er 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 diminish the
gravity of the secret of which the malicious friend was possessed. There
is nothing but what is sweet and attractive in the little comedy of _The
Frank Courtship_, and it might well be commended to the dexterous and
sympathetic hand of Mr. J.M. Barrie.

CHAPTER IX

VISITING IN LONDON

(1812-1819)

In the margin of FitzGerald's copy of the _Memoir_ an extract is quoted
from Crabbe's Diary: "1810, Nov. 7.--Finish Tales. Not happy hour." The
poet's comment may have meant something more than that so many of his
Tales dealt with sad instances of human frailty. At that moment, and for
three years longer, there hung over Crabbe's family life a cloud that
never lifted--the hopeless illness of his wife. Two years before,
Southey, in answer to a friend who had made some reference to Crabbe and
his poetry, writes:

"With Crabbe's poems I have been acquainted for about
twenty years, having read them when a schoolboy on their
first publication, and, by the help of _Elegant Extracts_,
remembered from that time what was best worth remembering.
You rightly compare him to Goldsmith. He is an imitator,
or rather an _antithesizer_ of Goldsmith, if such a word may be
coined for the occasion. His merit is precisely the same as
Goldsmith's--that of describing things clearly and strikingly;
but there is a wide difference between the colouring of the
two poets. Goldsmith threw a sunshine over all his pictures,
like that of one of our water-colour artists when he paints
for ladies--a light and a beauty not to be found in Nature,
though not more brilliant or beautiful than what Nature
really affords; Crabbe's have a gloom which is also not in
Nature--not the shade of a heavy day, of mist, or of clouds,
but the dark and overcharged shadows of one who paints by
lamplight--whose very lights have a gloominess. In part
this is explained by his history."

Southey's letter was written in September 1808, before either _The
Borough_ or the _Tales_ was published, which may account for the
inadequacy of his criticism on Crabbe's poetry. But the above passage
throws light upon a period in Crabbe's history to which his son
naturally does little more than refer in general and guarded terms. In a
subsequent passage of the letter alre