English Men of Letters: Crabbe

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y respectable and diligent clergymen, but they had been often changed, and some of them had never resided within the parish; and he felt that the binding influence of a settled and permanent minister had not been withdrawn for twelve years with impunity. A Wesleyan missionary had formed a

a former gardener of Crabbe's had set up as a preacher of the doctrines of this fanatic, who was still attracting crowds in London. Then, too, as another fruit of the rector's long absence, strange stories of his political opinio

ears of age, was shortly to go up to Cambridge, and this fresh expense had to be provided for. To this end, a volume of poems, partly old and partly new, had been for some time in preparation, and in September 1807, it appeared from the publishing house of John Hatchard in Piccadilly. In it were included The Library, The Newspaper, and The Village. T

xcuse for his 'progress in the art of versification' being less marked than his readers might otherwise expect. He then proceeds to tell the story of the kindness he had received from Burke (who had died in 1797); the introduction by him to Sir Joshua Reynolds, and through him again to Samuel Johnson. He gives in

t obtain the sanctio

e confidence rely u

he discerning taste

f Doctor Johnson, w

equisite to form hi

the result of his

d fortune to obtain

so qualified, and a

een honoured by an

James Fox, some y

and being again wit

ld peruse any work

lication, and would

not think myself su

had collected some poe

honourable frie

mpire, and strugglin

t such time, upon suc

mind was, I coul

riticising verses;

ed an offer which though I had not pres

, now first publish

information from Lo

on to inform my rea

arish Register was

st enough by some of

is judgment upon th

r will readily beli

he disliked are to

uted, which I hope

taste of so admirab

ancholy satisfactio

ecially the histor

he second book) were

engaged and amuse

evolent mind of

ke of Devonshire's, at Chiswick. His last months wore of great suffering, and the tedium of his latter days was relieved by being read aloud to-the Latin poets taking their turn with Crabbe's pathetic stories of humble life. In the same preface, Crabbe further expresses similar obligations to

ore him, looks through the various entries for the year just completed. As name after name recalls interesting particulars of character and incident in their history, he relates them as if to an imaginary friend at his side. The precedent of The Deserted Village is still obviously near to the wri

ace, save one

ve, of liber

earies not, no

flow of rust

mansion frowns

unshine from t

old, intent on p

s life is hol

cenes like these!

fled, or unsta

orld subdued and

den can no m

his village in much the same tone, and with

where thrives th'

, and his gain, Screen'd from the

window and pro

ch the woodbine

blossoms to the

res is in that

aste untaught a

ted: there she

cture, all th

ls are heroes,

ows them and the

humble library that fills the deal shelf "beside the cuckoo clock"; the few devotional works, including the illustrated Bible, bought

give me comm

ep researches

ark and doubtf

glimmering tape

picture of the village home thus presented. And outside it, the plot of carefully-tended ground, with not onl

nday eve, when

oice a famil

ud, are happy

seem, and ga

tidious ears may

e none can teach; Where still t

stories are f

y that, bursting

tongue these no

e tones of glad

steps, that spark

ughs or runs or

l there looks an

d are those which had become dear and familiar to Crabbe during years of residence in Leicestershire and inland Suffolk. And yet at this very juncture, Crabbe's poetic consc

peace! ye migh

misery now de

ew from dwellin

ted Row we te

Bibles has its "slums," and on these slums Crabbe

bal, a dispu

t; the sot, the

ly heard:-the c

e, perverse i

hildren hold each

ife, and someti

irst-stol'n rags

ed not dress, are

lage and The Borough, are often eclectic, and that for the sake of telling contrast, he w

its full share of kindred instances in which the union in Church has only been brought about by pressure from the parish authorities. The

altar stood a

ng passions and

ak, hung loosely

, what all per

idegroom, shuffl

, and then exp

ernately wit

fused with mud

ammering he per

rage that rankl

lover inly c

appy, and made

tures take a

reaten for th

s, and lisp'd and

ad, and faintly

eech and humbled

embers of de

rant, frowning

rse, and sought

llowing in s

oully spent; Then to her fat

ove and comfo

tion, youth, r

ever; but I p

er than usual from many of Crabbe's eccentricities. It is marked here and there by his fondness for verbal antithesis, almost amounting to the pun, which his parodists have not overlooked. The second line indeed is hardly more allowable in serious verse than

happy, and made

d in the case of the story of Hetty Sorrel. The verse, alternately recalling Pope and Goldsmith, is yet impelled by a moral intention, which gives it absolute individuality. The picture presented is as poignantly pathetic as Frederick Walker's Lost

dren christened by the Latin names of his plants,-Lonicera, Hyacinthus and Senecio. Then we have the gallant, gay Lothario, who not only fails to lead astray the lovely Fanny Pric

austere,

virtue by her

spend her fortune in London, and leaves her tenants to the tender mercies of her steward

en stood

oors, the tap'st

hen's cheerless

t the long-close

orm that turns

shroud, and la

ath:-upon the

rieking woo'd his

splendid funera

awful, disma

stle moves the

objects tend

cold unmeaning

ng "some scholar" read the list of her titles

ds! why take su

marble soon in C

her gracious n

ved-the blessi

ll deplored t

uttered and wha

those which in

rubs on the st

ose which, ere sh

dy to our so

s, from a former parish-clerk of his father's at North Glemham. Coming to be past work through infirmities of age, the old m

ed the Workhou

here, for sudd

piring, at his

ence in the ho

eat, and sigh

hose white lock

polish of tha

wful glance on

neel and tremb

ngers, all in

shford soften

ek and supplian

th (to give it f

est, and I l

man, contente

g mainly on the seamy side of peasant and village lif

, it may be presumed, an imperfect reminiscence of Justice Shallow's friend). The speaker's thoughts are now directed to his old parish servant, and to the old man's favourite stories of previous vicars under whom he has served. Thus the poem ends with sketches of Parson Addle, Parson Peele, Dr. Grandspear and others-among them the "Author-Rector," intended (the

all, and every

gs defile m

-what say'st thou

everence, I beli

prop, nor have y

works as swell

on for my si

ness I would

at year. Four editions were issued by Mr. Hatchard during the following year and a half-the fourth appearing in March 1809. The reviews were unanimous in approval,

the note of a new development in her Castle Rackrent, not to mention the delightful stories in The Parents' Assistant, Simple Susan, Lazy Lawrence, or The Basket-Woman. Galt's masterpiece, The Annals of the Parish, was not yet even lying unfinished in his desk. The Mucklebackits and the Headriggs were still further distant. Miss Mitford's sketches in Our Village-the nearest in form to Crabbe's pictures of country life--were to come later still. Crabbe, though he adhered, with a wise knowledge of his own powers, to the heroic couplet, is really a chief founder of the rural novel-the Silas Marner and the Adam Bede of fifty years later. Of course (for no man is original) he had developed his methods out of that of his predecessors. Pope was his earliest maste

them and Crabbe's accompanying letter in a friendly reply, to which reference has already been made. After mentioning how for more than twenty years he had desired the plea

guess my sincere

rank in the public consideration whic

taste to find I h

rned and the critic

my gratulor among

have had from eve

ed myself of the fre

aim to be a mystery a

copy of a new poet

il, and I esteem myse

and to your goodn

ing me the opportuni

m. I am too proud

to affect to decl

parative view I ha

y assure you that no

of whose tastes an

solicitous, have ev

ave been our regula

ins to read well,

into the sentimen

an life. As for riv

ng those who know

ter things in the

one of the best of

ndship of those des

worth or their tale

do cocker themsel

ng that interferes

ir fame: but I shou

wn fingers into a w

aging such a feelin

ion bad health: tho

ment as well as the

evil. I hope, howev

ay permit you to

is own matter and manner was imitable, and that others were borrowing it. Many could now "grow the flower" (or something like it), for "all had got the seed." It was this persuasion that set him thinking whether he might not change his topics and his metre, and still retain his public. To this end he threw up a few tiny ballons d'essai-experiments in the manner of some of his popular contemporaries, and printed them in the columns of the Edinburgh Annual Register. One of these was a grim story of village crime called The Poacher, and written in avowed imitation of C

rough the unlatt

ate is asleep; Sunk 'mid yon

t, the plunderer

d, and prompt fo

ling-piece be

he hut are in

booty of his

fraud, resist

aw, the bludgeo

owder in yon n

lead the churc

he rector's co

ermon's dry, his

arbed, the sweep

heasant plumes,

ils, and wirin

ame from chase

onlight,[5] seen

spoils lie stowe

ociate higgler'

n in prose, came upon his long-lost fragment of Waverley and the need of conciliating the poetic taste of the day was at an end for ever. But his affection for Crabbe never waned. In his earlier novels th

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cant term for s