English Men of Letters: Crabbe

81

h for November. The Tales were twenty-one in number, and to each was prefixed a series, often four or five, of quotations from Shakespeare, illustrating the incidents in the Tales, or the character there depicted. Crabbe's knowledge of Shakespeare

thin their knowledge. The second in order of publication, The Parting Hour, arose out of an incide

brother, William, t

iards. He was carried to Mexico, wh

his increasing rich

consequence of which

obliged to aban

family; and was di

rgh sailor on the

to have found some

only person he had

anything about Alde

erplexity when he w

orge, was a clergy

he wanderer, 'he wa

s also the last, tid

rother William; and

is casual interview

lt thi

early in love with a child schoolfellow, for whom his affection never falters. When grown up the young man accepts an offer from a prosperous kinsman in the West Indies to join him in his busin

with wither'd

with woes, and bent

been taken by the Spaniards, and he had been carried a slave to the West Indies, where he worked in a silver mine, improved his position under a kind master, and finally married a Spanish girl, hopeless of ever returning to England though still unforgetful of his old love. He accumulates m

children, weepi

flee, he fled, and

ere his education finds him occupation as a clerk; and finally, broken with age and toil, finds his way back to England, where the faithful friend of his youth takes care of him and nurses him to the end. The sit

ere analysis of character. The style, moreover, has clarified and gained in dignity: there are few, if any, relapses into the homelier style on which the parodist could try his han

ssed condition to walk over from Aldeburgh to Beccles (some twenty miles distant), where his betrothed was occasionally a visitor to her mother and sisters. "It was in his walks," writes the son, "between Aldeburgh and Beccles that Mr. Crabbe passed through the very scenery described in the first part of The L

end, she tells

eans she to a

a story. The lover, joyous and buoyant, traverses the dreary coast scenery of Suffolk, and because he is happy, finds beauty and charm in the commonest and most familiar sig

receive but

fe alone does

ding-garment, o

the slight, real or imaginary, probably the latter, comes as such a rebuff, that during the "little more-how far away!" that he travels, the country, though now richer and lovelier, seems to him (as once to Hamlet) a mere "pestilent congregation of vapours." Bu

to show Crabbe's minute observation-in his time so rare-of flowers and bird

auteous, Nature

do: 'all that g

riate-bog, and

ning men; Here may the ni

hand adorns t

moss in secret

myrtle of the

ese that from t

th' attention

Laura will he

asures they aff

s. Crabbe's treatment of peasant life has often been compared to that of divers painters-the Dutch school, Ho

ountry was en

d has banks o

hollow on the

sy tribe their

ead, to catch

now their ear

oys just left th

ler with their p

ando held his

sister on h

rs old, demure,

orce of early

k of languor

ed apprehensio

t savage in he

features of he

ugh and roguish

nted in her yo

tent her elde

rbore to blame The young de

ity in the Tra

ather, who fr

e fuel for the

eeble blaze, and

just borrowed

nd of coarse

hwork neglige

ife, an infant

e some touch of

sied and of b

eyes on her

n'd, and seem'd h

tardy aid-he

te engross'd t

her look; with

ilk-maid's fort

s of life; assum

ow the steady

savage eye she

inches their i

up, the worn-ou

st, and livin

ed, his worthle

tected by th

rts him; he wi

ruffians who a

adness in his

rogress of the

nge course of mis

nder each unpr

grief, what pun

passions, must e

him approach t

e, a comfort,

o felt not; 'Ro

y rogues they be; They wander

laws-then let

ers; for the l

not, but I c

rtion from his

t seem'd happy

iliar theme. The scorn that "patient merit of the unworthy takes"; the misery of th

ant, the Patro

most agreeable time with his new friends. He lives for the while with every refinement about him, and the Squire's daughter, a young lady of the type of Lady Clara Vere de Vere, evidently enjoys the opportunity of breaking a country heart for pastime, "ere she goes to town." For after a while the family leave for their mansion in London, the Squire at parting once more impressing on his young guest that he will not forget him. After waiting a reasonable time, the young poet repairs to London and seeks to obtain an interview with his Patron.

Boy,' he cried,

praised, I've n

ye, sons! is

opes of what the

lays on his colours with no sparing hand, represents the heartless Patro

s through various

avour'd with such

ady cried, 'm

s have kill'd yo

aised can now

once inspired,

flush of anger

heek of conscio

' said she, 'the

udent dare the

ripling look ti

justly call th

ead? and am

ooks as those?' She spoke, an

ance, and curtsi

om the poet's

ected, for a

lordship, 'run

l I'm sorry

bt, th' obligin

usage help'd h

, I should have

ne have brighten

e me famed my w

ears with gra

he father hear

ortune-Yes! I'

rience of life at Belvoir Castle, combined with the sad recollection of his sufferings when only a few

ry can hardly enter. It displays the fine observation of Miss Austen, clothed in effective couplets of the school of Johnson and Churchill. Yet every now and

foggy morn, the

herry hung the

ever on the

ghty showers the floods: All green

played their m

holly with it

ss that o'er the

ale entitled The Gentleman Farmer is a striking illustration in point. Jeffrey in his review of the Tales in the Edinburgh supplies, as usual, a short abstract of the story, not without due insight into its moral. But a profounder student of human nature than Jeffrey has, in our own day, cited the Tal

ctical importance t

our freedom consis

e of a purely materia

eedom to be an illusi

hat has largely play

aggerated idea of hu

an idea which can on

ry dependence and li

brought home to us.

Crabbe's Tales ca

starts in life res

hodox clergyman, the orthodox physic

al bondage in differ

o he starts on a ca

ee

t he alone wa

of all represents h

k doctor, and a revi

alleg

elity to Human Nature even more attractive to him in advanced years than in youth. There is indeed much in common between Crabbe's treatment of life and its problems, and Newman's. Both may be called "stern" portrayers of human nature, not only as intended in Byron's famous line

man of aspiring gen

dent love of virt

conduct or opinion.

miable girl, who is

being too poor to m

me in the family of

o had recently marri

tue, and the honour of his friend. In

nd renounces him with

nce from the roma

eks the company of

health and fortune

in gaol and miserab

d traces the benefa

s he had so ill repa

ud spirit and shat

and his reason fai

ng maniac, and then

ble imbecility, whi

ty in the close

ue." Rather is he perfectly confident of his respectability, and bitterly contemptuous of those who maintain the necessity of

guides me, I sh

adier hand, or

ead of awful t

pirit and the

d by thoughts an

with grossness

proudly on th

overn, and whom

er had hitherto seemed so immaculate. The comparison thus suggested is not as felicitous as in many of Crabbe's citations. H

hat countest

g by the

not in a w

r want of s

iocy of a harmless kind, and the common playmate of the village children, is

des his boyish

ment fix'd an

mbling speaks,

oks; he listen

oice, th' harmon

nd, and for a

infant, who h

nal glance a g

t, the half-kno

conscious, at t

n, nor then unw

d, as if to h

n, he with im

ds, and shouts, an

peech with acti

leader, and h

top, or at thei

o'er it leap his

k, he acts the

hildren call h

in the strictest tenets of the sect. Her father has a widowed and childless sister, with a comfortable fortune, living in some distant town; and in pity of her solitary condition he allows his naturally vivacious daughter to spend the greater part of the year with her aunt. The aunt does not share the prejudices of her brother's household. She likes her game of cards and other social joys, and is quite a leader of fashion in her little town. To this life and its enjoyments the beautiful and clever Sybil takes very kindly, and u

amsel'

er for the part; For Sybil, fo

secret bias

s-and flattery

on gave her

world's goods. He calls his daughter home, that she may be at once introduced to her future husband, for the father is as certain as Sir Anthony Absolute himself that daughters should accept what is offered them and ask no questions. Sybil is by no m

'd his daughte

lose her, was o

Sybil to the

ave the shelte

g there lives a

sy they prefe

joys she once p

isits sprung, sh

matrons Sybil

tners and to s

uthful maid pr

t woman she was

rs, when she p

man to the

s and honours f

ell defined; She then reluct

onder o'er a

tree shade the

pensive gloom a

company reti

k, or read the

s her against the consequences of such levity. But as the little duel proceeds, each gradually detects the real good that underlies the surface qualities of the other. In spite of his formalism, Sybil discerns that her lover is full of good sense and fee

ught, but willi

father met th

he, 'I long, a

conduct-hath

d fretted by th

eace, betaken

s pure and mode

ks upon his s

ce?'-'All this

d! what labou

k!'-'I do not

(trifler!) insul

me to refrain.' 'Then hear m

?'-'My father's ch

race, and if

?'-'I might from

daughter, our d

it, if it b

hree plain words

is good youth?'-'

ollection, The Confidant, was actually turned into a little drama in blank verse by Charles Lamb, under the changed title of The Wife's Trial: or the Intruding Widow. The story of Crabbe's Confidant is not pleasant; and Lamb thought well to modify it, so as to