Crabbe gallantly keeps up appearances and
spirits, and yet he tries to preserve a show of good spirits in the
Journal to Mira, and continues to labour at his versemaking. Perhaps,
indeed, it may be regarded as a bad symptom that he is reduced to
distracting his mind by making an analysis of a dull sermon. 'There is
nothing particular in it,' he admits, but at least it is better, he
thinks, to listen to a bad sermon than to the blasphemous rant of
deistical societies. Indeed, Crabbe's spirit was totally unlike the
desperate pride of Chatterton. He was of the patient enduring tribe, and
comforts himself by religious meditations, which are, perhaps, rather
commonplace in expression, but when read by the light of the distresses
he was enduring, show a brave unembittered spirit, not to be easily
respected too highly. Starvation seemed to be approaching; or, at least,
the only alternative was the abandonment of his ambition, and
acceptance, if he could get it, of the post of druggist's assistant. He
had but one resource left; and that not of the most promising kind.
Crabbe, amongst his other old-fashioned notions, had a strong belief in
the traditional patron. Johnson might have given him some hints upon the
subject; but luckily, as it turned out, he pursued what Chesterfield's
correspondent would have thought the most hopeless of all courses. He
wrote to Lord North, who was at that moment occupied in contemplating
the final results of the ingenious policy by which America was lost to
England, and probably consigned Crabbe's letter to the waste-paper
basket. Then he tried the effect of a copy of verses, beginning:--

Ah! Shelburne, blest with all that's good or great,
T' adorn a rich or save a sinking State.

He added a letter saying that, as Lord North had not answered him, Lord
Shelburne would probably be glad to supply the needs of a starving
apothecary turned poet. Another copy of verses was enclosed, pointing
out that Shelburne's reputed liberality would be repaid in the usual
coin:

Then shall my grateful strains his ear rejoice,
His name harmonious thrilled on Mira's voice;
Round the reviving bays new sweets shall spring,
And Shelburne's fame through laughing valleys ring!

Nobody can blame North and Shelburne for not acting the part of Good
Samaritans. He, at least, may throw the first stone who has always taken
the trouble to sift the grain from the chaff amidst all the begging
letters wh