I hope things will not be so black with you and us by the time this
Letter reaches you, but you may be amused and glad to have it from me.
Not that I have come into Suffolk on any cheerful Errand: I have come to
bury dear old Mr. Crabbe! I suppose you have had some Letters of mine
telling you of his Illness; Epileptic Fits which came successively and
weakened him gradually, and at last put him to his Bed entirely, where he
lay some while unable to move himself or to think! They said he might
lie so a long time, since he eat and drank with fair Appetite: but
suddenly the End came on and after a twelve hours Stupor he died. On
Tuesday September 22 he was buried; and I came from Bedfordshire (where I
had only arrived two days before) to assist at it. I and Mr. Drew were
the only persons invited not of the Family: but there were very many
Farmers and Neighbours come to pay respect to the remains of the brave
old Man, who was buried, by his own desire, among the poor in the
Churchyard in a Grave that he wishes to be no otherwise distinguisht than
by a common Head and Footstone. . . .
You may imagine it was melancholy enough to me to revisit the house when
He who had made it so warm for me so often lay cold in his Coffin unable
to entertain me any more! His little old dark Study (which I called the
'_Cobblery'_) smelt strong of its old Smoke: and the last Cheroot he had
tried lay three quarters smoked in its little China Ash-pan. This I have
taken as a Relic, as also a little silver Nutmeg Grater which used to
give the finishing Touch to many a Glass of good hot Stuff, and also had
belonged to the Poet Crabbe. . . .
Last night I had some of your Letters read to me: among them one but
yesterday arrived, not very sunshiny in its prospects: but your Brother
thinks the Times Newspaper of yesterday somewhat bids us look up. Only,
all are trembling for Lucknow, crowded with Helplessness and Innocence! I
am ashamed to think how little I understand of all these things: but have
wiser men, and men in Place, understood much more? or, understanding,
have they _done_ what they should? . . .
Love to the dear Lady, and may you be now and for time to come safe and
well is the Prayer of yours,