When they met in
later years at William Spencer's, Crabbe hurried to meet James Smith
with outstretched hand, "Ah! my old enemy, how do you do?" Again,
writing to a friend who had expressed some indignation at the parody,
Crabbe complained only of the preface. "There is a little
ill-nature--and I take the liberty of adding, undeserved ill-nature--in
their prefatory address; but in their versification they have done me
admirably." Here Crabbe shows a slight lack of self-knowledge. For when
to the Letter on _Trades_ the following extenuating postscript is found
necessary, there would seem to be hardly any room for the parodist:

"If I have in this Letter praised the good-humour of a man
confessedly too inattentive to business, and if in the one on
_Amusements_, I have written somewhat sarcastically of 'the
brick-floored parlour which the butcher lets,' be credit given
to me that in the one case I had no intention to apologise for
idleness, nor any design in the other to treat with contempt
the resources of the poor. The good-humour is considered as
the consolation of disappointment, and the room is so mentioned
because the lodger is vain. Most of my readers will
perceive this; but I shall be sorry if by any I am supposed to
make pleas for the vices of men, or treat their wants and
infirmities with derision or with disdain."

After this, Crabbe himself might have admitted that the descent is not
very far to the parodist's delightful apology for the change from "one
hautboy" to "one fiddle" in the description of the band. The subsequent
explanation, how the poet had purposely intertwined the various
handkerchiefs which rescued Pat Jennings's hat from the pit, lest the
real owner should be detected, and the reason for it, is a not less
exquisite piece of fooling:--"For, in the statistical view of life and
manners which I occasionally present, my clerical profession has taught
me how extremely improper it would be by any allusion, however slight,
to give any uneasiness, however trivial, to any individual, however
foolish or wicked." It might perhaps be inferred from such effusions as
are here parodied that Crabbe was lacking in a sense of humour. This
would certainly be too sweeping an inference, for in many of his
sketches of human character he gives unmistakable proof to the contrary.
But the talent in question--often so recklessly awarded or denied to us
by our fellow-creatures--is very variable