So now—­pray write a very fair answer fairly, in fair hand, and to fair purpose.

My Susanna is just now come—­so all is fair with my dearest Mr. and Mrs. Lock’s F.B.

GEORGE CRABBE

1754-1832

TO MARY LEADBEATER[1]

The only survivors

Trowbridge, 1st of 12th month, 1816.

MARY LEADBEATER!

Yes, indeed, I do well remember you!  Not Leadbeater then, but a pretty demure lass, standing a timid auditor while her own verses were read by a kind friend, but a keen judge.  And I have in my memory your father’s person and countenance, and you may be sure that my vanity retained the compliment which he paid me in the moment when he permitted his judgement to slip behind his good humour and desire of giving pleasure.  Yes, I remember all who were present, and, of all, are not you and I the only survivors?  It was the day—­was it not?—­when I introduced my wife to my friend.  And now both are gone! and your father, and Richard Burke, who was present (yet again I must ask,—­was he not?)—­and Mrs. Burke!  All departed, and so, by and by, they will speak of us.  But, in the meantime, it was good of you to write, oh, very, very good!

But are you not your father’s own daughter?  Do you not flatter after his manner?  How do you know the mischief that you may do in the mind of a vain man, who is but too susceptible of praise, even while he is conscious of so much to be placed against it?  I am glad that you like my verses:  it would have mortified me much if you had not, for you can judge as well as write....  Yours are really very admirable things; and the morality is as pure as the literary merit is conspicuous.  I am not sure that I have read all that you have given us; but what I have read has really that rare and almost undefinable quality, genius; that is to say, it seizes on the mind and commands attention, and on the heart, and compels its feelings.

How could you imagine that I could be otherwise than pleased—­delighted rather—­with your letter?  And let me not omit the fact that I reply the instant I am at liberty, for I was enrobing myself for church.  You are a child of simplicity, I know, and do not love robing; but you are a pupil of liberality, and look upon such things with a large mind, smiling in charity.  Well!  I was putting on the great black gown when my servant—­(you see I can be pompous, to write of gowns and servants with such familiarity)—­when he brought me a letter first directed, the words yet legible, to ’George Crabbe, at Belvoir Castle’, and then by Lord Mendip to the ‘Reverend’ at Trowbridge; and at Trowbridge I hope again to receive these welcome evidences of your remembrance, directed in all their simplicity, and written, I trust, in all sincerity....

There was a Suffolk family of Alexanders, one of whom you probably mean; and as he knew very little of me, I see no reason why he should not give me a good character ...  If it means, as it generally does, that I paid my debts, and was guilty of no glaring world-defying immorality—­why yes!—­I was so far a good character....