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 ^M'
 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OP 
 
 Sa.n ^iteo 
 
 ■i
 
 MEMORIALS 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 BY 
 
 HIS SON AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 FIVE COMIC ANNUALS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 WARD, LOCK & BOWDEN, LIMITED, 
 
 WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.G. 
 
 NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE.
 
 PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION. 
 
 Some years have elapsed since the appearance of the 
 first edition of the Memorials of Thomas Hood. The 
 rapidity with which that edition was exliausted might 
 perhaps be urged as an argument for the earlier 
 arrangement of the fresh issue. It was felt, however, 
 that the work, especially in that portion which treated 
 of Hood's earher life, was incomplete, and that there 
 was a probability of an accession of further materials 
 throwing a light on that period. 
 
 The justice of the conjecture has been proved by 
 the important additions now made to the information 
 about his early career. And if an excuse be needed 
 for the delay in the production of this issue, it will be 
 found in the fact that most interesting details have 
 been supplied, even while the sheets were going 
 through the press. 
 
 The abridgment of this edition consists only in tlie
 
 Vi PEEFACE TO THE NEW EDITION. 
 
 exclusion of passages wliicli touched on subjects com- 
 mon to letters addressed to different, correspondents. 
 Some notes, of no important bearing, have also been 
 omitted. But to balance these curtailments some 
 most characteristie bits have been added. 
 
 In order to render the edition complete, views of 
 places that are intimately connected with the Memoir 
 are given : and it is believed, that there is now little 
 or nothing to be added to this popular record of the life 
 of a Poet, who is so widely loved by English — and 
 Enghsh-speaking — people, as Thomas Hood.
 
 PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION. 
 
 In submitting the following memorials to the public 
 my sister and myself would wish, at the first outset, to 
 warn those, who think to find in them fine biographical 
 writing, that the book is not for them. We have seen 
 too many great men fail in that art, and we feel no 
 desire to emulate them. Our own part in this work is 
 small, being restricted to such explanations and ampli- 
 fications as were necessary to connect the letters, to 
 which we have added, here and there, characteristic 
 anecdotes, to which reference is made in them. 
 
 Our language we have endeavoured to render as 
 simple as possible. If, therefore, at any time, it warms 
 into a higher strain, it is solely at the promptings of 
 the heart, and not by artistic design. Indeed, any 
 such trick or premeditation could not have existed at 
 the same time with the feelings called up by a task, 
 how polemn, how sad, and how unutterably absorbing, 
 none can tell, who have not experienced a like sensation 
 of mingled pleasure and pain ; for, although the latter 
 predominate, there is some of the former 'n the per- 
 formance of such a labour of love.
 
 viii PEEFACE TO FIRST EDITION. 
 
 It is owing chiefly to this fact that the publication 
 of these volumes has been so long delayed. To us, to 
 turn over the MSS. for these pages — to consult the 
 letters, written in that well-known, clear hand — was to 
 recall to memory such a flood of recollections of dead 
 joys, of long past sorrows, of gentle, loving deeds and 
 words, that we may well claim to be excused if we 
 were slow in our progress, and lingered somewhat over 
 pages, that were often hidden from us by our tears. 
 
 Looking back now on my own emotion, while reading 
 over these memorials, I can scarcely think how I should 
 be so moved after the lapse of fifteen years, and I can 
 fully realise how intensely painful must the compila- 
 tion have been to my sister, who, as the elder, was 
 more intimately connected with, and has a clearer 
 memory of the events chronicled, than I. 
 
 We are well aware that there is considerable ground 
 for the popular objection to Biographies, written by 
 relatives ; but we are of opinion, that, in this case, the 
 advantages to be gained by the Editorship of some 
 leading literary man of the day, are more than balanced 
 by the intimate knowledge and understanding we have 
 of all the incidents and acts of our father's Ufe. 
 Although, as will be seen, he numbered among his 
 friends many distinguished writers, they can none of 
 them know, nor could we impart to them our percep- 
 tions (if I may use the term) of that inner private life, 
 which gave a stamp to the character his writings 
 claimed for him — that of a benevolent, loving, Christian 
 gentiei/iau. 
 
 We are the better enabled to prepare these memo-
 
 PEEFACE TO FIRST EDITION. ix 
 
 rials, because we were never separated, for any length 
 of time, from our parents, neither of us having been 
 sent to a boarding-school, or in our earlier years con- 
 fined to that edifying domestic Botany Bay — the 
 Nursery — where children grow up by the pattern of 
 unwatched, uneducated, hired servants. 
 
 How our father ever made of us companions, and 
 was ready in return to be our playfellow, will be men- 
 tioned elsewhere. 
 
 Having then undertaken this "labour of love" our- 
 selves, in preference, with all humility nevertheless, to 
 entrusting it to others, comparative strangers, however 
 distinguished ; we repose, hopefully, on the generosity 
 and consideration of the English people, with whom we 
 have ever found our father's name a passport to the 
 sympathies. 
 
 As regards the form and arrangement of these pages, 
 a few words only are necessary. Each Chapter, with 
 the exception of the first, contains the events of a year ; 
 that having appeared to us the most simple and natural 
 division. In the letters we have done our best to omit 
 everything approaching to a repetition. If we have 
 not, altogether, and at all times, succeeded, we can 
 only plead as an excuse the difficulties we have had to 
 encounter ; and the same must be said for any passage, 
 which may give unintentional pain to those mentioned 
 in it. 
 
 The illustrations consist, in the first place, of two 
 fac-similes ; the one of a sheet of the " Song of the 
 Shirt," as first written out, and the other of the sketch 
 for his own monument drawn by our father towards
 
 X PKEi'ACE TO FIRST EDITION. 
 
 the close of his last illness. The remaining vignettes 
 are from sketches rapidly clashed off by him for our 
 amusement. Many of them are from sheets of similar 
 oddities, which we used to find, to our huge delight, 
 lying on our pillows occasionally of a morning. He 
 had drawn them overnight, before going to rest, after 
 the long hours of his literary labour were done. They 
 may have perhaps too great a value in our eyes, but 
 we have added them to complete the memorials, as 
 indications, however slight, of the untiring humour, 
 and self-forgetful thought for the pleasure of others, 
 which could suggest and create them after the mental 
 and physical labour of a weary night's composition.* 
 
 My mother was a fitting companion for such a hus- 
 band : she shared his struggles, and soothed his sorrow, 
 and was so much a part of his very existence, that 
 latterly he could hardly bear her out of his sight, or 
 write when she was not by him. We have been fre- 
 quently obliged to omit large portions of his letters to 
 her — it would have been sacrilege to alter them, and 
 we did not feel it right to publish what was intended for 
 her eyes alone — the tender epithets, and the love-talk ; 
 60 fond, and yet so true. I quote here one passage, as 
 a sample of those, which occur so frequently in the 
 letters. 
 
 " I never was anything, dearest, till I knew you — 
 and I have been a better, happier, and more prosperous 
 man ever since. Lay by that truth in lavender, 
 
 * Another reason for their insertion is, that they will give a fairer 
 notion of his artistic skill, to which the cuts in the Comic Annuals did but 
 inadequate justice.
 
 TEEFACE TO FIRST EDITION. x\ 
 
 sweetest, and remind me of it when I fail. I am 
 writing warmly and fondly ; but not without good 
 cause. First, your own affectionate letter, lately re- 
 ceived — next the remembrances of our dear children, 
 pledges — what darling ones ! — of our old familiar love, 
 — then a delicious impulse to pour out the overflowings 
 of my heart into yours ; and last, not least, the know- 
 ledge that your dear eyes will read what my hand is 
 now writing. Perhaps there is an after-thought that, 
 whatever may befal me, the wife of my bosom will 
 have this acknowledgment of her tenderness — worth — 
 excellence — all that is wifely or womanly, from my 
 pen. 
 
 Throughout his long illnesses she was his constant 
 nurse, and unwearying companion, nor did she long 
 survive him. 
 
 I must not close this preface (although it has alieady 
 exceeded the limits I assigned it), without a grateful 
 reference to Miss Eliza Cook, and the originators and 
 promoters of the movement, which led to the erection 
 of the noble monument to my father in Kensal Green ; 
 a monument which has not its pair in England, whether 
 for the universal subscriptions which raised it, or for 
 the chaste and unique novelty of its design. 
 
 From the managers and furtherers of the under- 
 taking, or from the distinguished names on the sub- 
 scription lists, it would be ungTacious and invidious to 
 select any for special notice ; but a similar reason to 
 that, which led me to connect my father's slight sketches 
 with these memorials, induces me to select from the 
 humbler names on the lists such donations as the fol-
 
 xii PREFACE TO FIEST EDITION. 
 
 lowing : " trifling sums from Manchester, Preston, 
 Bideford, and Bristol — from a few poor needlewomen 
 — from seven dressmakers — from twelve poor men." 
 
 I should be wanting indeed in appreciation of the 
 people's love for my dead father, if I did not (by 
 incorporating them with this work,) endeavour to rescue 
 from oblivion these tokens of the gentle remembrance, 
 by the pooi", of the poet 
 
 ' Who sang the Song of the Shirt." 
 
 T. H. 
 
 Note. The Vignette on the title-page is a sketch of the arms, which 
 my father used to say he should adopt, if the Queen would give him a 
 grant — "a heart, pierced with a needle threaded with .silver tears," — 
 the motto, ' ' He Sang the Song of the Shirt. " 
 
 The crest was one he selected in jest, quoting Shakespeare — "The 
 ox hath his bow, sir ; the horse his curb ; and the falcon her bells ; " 
 so why shouldn't the Hood have his hawk ? 
 
 It is worth noticing that the little silhouettes of Animals, &c., inter- 
 spersed among the other vignettes, were drawn long before " Punch " 
 appeared with his spii-ited little black cuts.
 
 MEMOKIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 From 1799 to 1835. 
 
 Birth and Parentage — Apprenticed to an Engi-aver— Goes to Scotland for 
 Lis Health — Assistant Sub-Editor of "The London" — Acquaintance 
 with the Reynolds' Family — "Odes and'Addresses " — He marries Miss 
 Jane Reynolds — Robert Street, Adelphi — Bii-th and Death of first 
 Child— "Whims and Oddities "—" National Tales "—"Plea of the 
 Midsummer Fairies "—Edits "The Gem" — "Eugene Aram" — 
 Winchmore — Birth of second Daughter — Anecdotes, Fondness for the 
 Sea, &c. — "The Comic Annual" — Acquaintance with the Duke of 
 Devonshire — The Chatsworth Library Door — "TylneyHall" — Connec- 
 tion with the Stage — Is presented to his Majesty King William IV. — 
 Lake House, Wanstead — Anecdotes, &c. 
 
 The public record of Thomas Hood has been long before 
 the world — either in the quaint jests and witty conceits 
 that enlivened many a Christmas fireside ; or in the poems, 
 which were his last and best legacy to his country. All that 
 remains is the history of his private life — that "long disease," 
 as it was truly called, so long, and so severe, that it was only 
 wonderful that the sensitive mind and frail body had not 
 given way before. Fi'om his earliest years, with the excep- 
 tion of a few bi'ight but ti'ansient gleams, it was a hand to 
 hand struggle with straitened means and adverse circum- 
 
 VOL. X. 1
 
 xii PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION. 
 
 lowing : " trifling sums from Manchester, Preston, 
 Bideford, and Bristol — from a few poor needlewomen 
 — from seven dressmakers — from twelve poor men." 
 
 I should be wanting indeed in appreciation of the 
 people's love for my dead father, if I did not (by 
 incorporating them with this work,) endeavour to rescue 
 from oblivion these tokens of the gentle remembrance, 
 by the poor, of the poet 
 
 " Who sang the Song of the Shirt." 
 
 T. H. 
 
 Note. The Vignette on the title-page is a sketch of the arms, which 
 my father iised to say he should adopt, if the Queen would give him a 
 grant — "a heart, pierced with a needle threaded with silver tears," — 
 the motto, ' ' He Sang the Song of the Shirt. " 
 
 The crest was one he selected in jest, quoting Shakespeare — "The 
 ox hath his bow, sir ; the horse his curb ; and the falcon her bells ; " 
 so why shouldn't the Hood have his hawk ? 
 
 It is worth noticing that the little silhouettes of Animals, &c., inter- 
 spersed among the other vignettes, were drawn long before "Punch" 
 appeared with his spirited little black cuts.
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 From 1799 to 1835. 
 
 Birth and Parentage — Apprenticed to an Engi-aver — Goes to Scotland for 
 his Health — Assistant Sub-Editor of "The London" — Acquaintance 
 with the RejTiolds' Family — "Odes and'Addresses" — He marries Jliss 
 Jane Reynolds — Robert Street, Adelphi — BLrth and Death of first 
 Child— "Whims and Oddities "—" National Tales "—" Plea of the 
 Midsummer Fairies" — Edits "The Gem" — "Eugene Aram" — 
 Winchmore — Birth of second Daughter — Anecdotes, Fondness for the 
 Sea, &c. — "The Comic Annual" — Acquaintance with the Duke of 
 Devonshire — The Chatsworth Library Door — "TylneyHall" — Connec- 
 tion with the Stage — Is presented to his Majesty King William IV. — 
 Lake House, Wanstead — Anecdotes, &c. 
 
 The public record of Thomas Hood has been long before 
 the world — either in the quaint jests and witty conceits 
 that enlivened many a Christmas fireside ; or in the poems, 
 which were his last and best legacy to his country. All that 
 remains is the history of his private life — that "long disease," 
 as it was truly called, so long, and so severe, that it was only 
 wonderful that the sensitive mind and frail body had not 
 given way befoi-e. From his earliest yeai-s, with the excep- 
 tion of a few bright but transient gleams, it was a hand to 
 hand struggle with straitened means and adverse circum- 
 
 VOL. X. 1
 
 2 TklEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 stances. It was a practical illustration of Longfellow's noble 
 
 lines — 
 
 " How sublime a thing it is 
 To sufiFer and be strong. " 
 
 lie possessed the most refined taste and appreciation for 
 all the little luxuries and comforts that make up so much of 
 the enjoyments of life ; and the cares and annoyances, that 
 would be scarcely perceptible to a stronger and rougher 
 organisation, fell with a double weight on the mind over- 
 tasked by such constant and harassing occupation. He 
 literally fulfilled his own words, and was one of the " master 
 minds at journey-work — moral magistrates greatly underpaid 
 — immortals without a living — menders of the human heart, 
 breaking their own — mighty intellects, without their mite.'' 
 The income his woi'ks have produced to his children, might 
 then have prolonged his life for many years ; although, when 
 we looked on the calm happy face after death, free at last 
 from the painful expression that had almost become habitual 
 to it, we dared not regret the rest so long prayed for, and 
 hardly won. 
 
 His life, like that of most modern literary men, was very 
 barren of incident ; there is therefore little to relate, save 
 the ebb and flow of health and strength — 
 
 " As in his breast the wave of life 
 Kept heaving to and fro." 
 
 The reader must bear this in mind, if wearied with the 
 recurrence of the chronicle of sickness and suffering. With 
 the distinct and even minute foreknowledge of organic and 
 mortal disease, liable at any moment to a fatal and sudden 
 termuiation, it must indeed have been a brave spirit to bear 
 so cheeifully and courageously, as he did, that life, which 
 was one long sickness. He knew that those dearest to him 
 were dependent on his exertions, and his mental powers
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 3 
 
 were cramped and tied down by pecuniary necessity : 
 while his bodily frame was enfeebled by nervousness and 
 exhaustion. 
 
 My father's own joking account of his birth was, that as 
 his grandmother was a Miss Armstrong, he was descended 
 from two notorious thieves, i.e., Robin Hood and Johnnie 
 Armstrong. I have found his father's name mentioned in 
 " Illustrations of the Literary History of the Eighteenth 
 Century," by J. B. Nicholls, F.S.A. :— 
 
 '^ August 20th. — At Islington, of a malignant fever, origi- 
 nating from the eftects of the night air in travelling, Mr. 
 Thomas Hood, bookseller, of the Poultry. Mr. Hood was a 
 native of Scotland, and came to London to seek his fortune, 
 where he was in a humble position for four or five years. * * * 
 His partner, Mr. Vernor, died soon afterwards. Mr. Thomas 
 Hood married a sister of Mr. Vernor, junior, by whom he 
 had a large family. He was a truly domestic man, and a 
 real man of business. Mr. Hood was one of the ' Associated 
 Booksellers,' who selected valuable old books for reprinting, 
 with great success. Messrs. Vernor and Hood afterwards 
 moved into the Poultry, and took into partnership Mr. C. 
 Sharpe. The firm of Messrs. Vernor and Hood published 
 ' The Beauties of England and Wales,' ' The Mirror,' ' Bloom- 
 field's Poems,'* and those of Henry Kirke White. Mr. Hood 
 •was the father of Thomas Hood the celebrated comic poet." 
 
 The above account is tolerably correct, except that Mr. 
 Hood married a Miss Sands, sister to the engraver of that 
 name, to whom his son was afterwards articled. Mr, 
 Hood's family consisted of many childi'en, of whom two 
 sons, James and Thomas, and four daughters, Elizabeth, 
 
 * The firm behaved very generously to Bloomfield, making him when 
 the success of his poems had commanded a large sale, a handsome present 
 over and above the s\im stipulated for in the agreement.
 
 4 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Anne, Jessie, and Catherine, alone surviveil to riper age. 
 At his house in the Poultrv,* on the 23i\i of Mav. as 
 f;ir as we trace, iu the ve;u" 1799, was born his second 
 son Thomas, the subject of this memoir. The fii-st sou. 
 James, was supposed to be the most pi\>misiug, fond of 
 literature, and a good linguist, a more rare accomplishment 
 then than now. He drew exceedingly well in pen and ink, 
 imd water-colours, as tdso did one or two of the sisters. The 
 elder ilr. Hood was a man of cultivated taste and liteniry 
 inclinations, and was the author of two novels which attained 
 some popularity iu their day, although now their very names 
 ai-e forgotten. Xo doubt his fiwourite pm-suits and his 
 profession influenced in no smixll degree the aumsements 
 and inclinations of his children ; aud, for those days, they 
 must have been a very intellectual f\\mily. 
 
 James, showing eai-ly signs of consumption, waa sent to 
 his uncle Robert Sands' house at Sandhurst, for change of 
 air. It was in returninoj from a visit there to see him that 
 Mr. Hood, the elder, axught a violent cold from riding home 
 outside a coach, aud this proved the cause of his untimely 
 death, an event much regretted by the literaiy world of 
 those days, as he was an enterprising and strictly honoui-able 
 man. He was one of the very fii*st, if not tJie fii-st, who 
 opened the book trade with America. 
 
 After the sudden death of the father, the widow and her 
 children were left rather slenderly provided for. My fixther, 
 the only remaining son, preferred the drudgery of an en- 
 graver's desk to encroaching upon the small family store. He 
 was apprenticed to his uncle, Mr. Robert Sands, the engraver, 
 and plied the burin for some years under his guidance, being 
 subsequently transferred to one of the Le Keuxs. During 
 this period he staid for some time with his uncle, lUid on one 
 
 * Now, the Admiralty Chart Office.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 6 
 
 occasion, in joke, Vjound his own sisters, both good amateur 
 artists, and several of his cousins, apprentices to himself in 
 the same line. He drew up jocular indentures, still tradi- 
 tionally remembered, binding them to abstain from "bull- 
 baiting, cock-fighting, and such idle diversions," and 
 humorously rehearsing their duties. This they all signed, 
 after marching in grotesque procession, bearing the imple- 
 ments of their art. He was a most devoted and excellent 
 Bon to his mother, and the last days of her widowhood and 
 decline were soothed hy his tender care and affection. Her 
 death was, I have often heard him say, a terrible blow to 
 him. I have now in my possession a little sketch of his, 
 of his mother's face as she lay in her coffin. His sister 
 Anne did not survive her very long,* but I cannot ascertain 
 the date of either of their deaths. 
 
 My father's own health was very infirm from his earliest 
 years, and the sedentary employment of engraving was no 
 light trial to it. He was, therefore, soon sent for change 
 to some relations in Scotland, and his experiences there are 
 humorously related in the " Literary Reminiscences." The 
 following facts there omitted, however, occurred during his 
 stay. His aunt being a rigid Sabbatarian, and "unco gude " 
 woman, did not realise his love of fun, which evidently 
 manifested itself thus early. She was temporarily laid up 
 by illness, and debarred from attendance on her favourite 
 " meenister," when her chief solace was to perch her nephew 
 up at the parlour window, which commanded a good view of 
 the stream of worshippers on their way to the kirk. Then 
 
 * The lines entitled "The Death-Bed," (in the " Englishman's Maga- 
 zine,") and commencing 
 
 " We -watched her breathing through the night," 
 
 were written at the time of her death.
 
 6 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 something like the following dialogue would ensue : — " Tam- 
 mie, my man, keek out, — wha's that 1 '' 
 
 " That's Bailie So and So's daughter, aunt, and isn't she 
 making desperate love to young Somebody, who's walking by 
 her side ! " 
 
 "The graceless hizzie! I'd wauk her, gin / were her 
 mammie ! Keek out again, Tam." 
 
 " There's Mrs. Blank, aunt, and she's got on a grand silk 
 gown, and such a velvet mantle ! " 
 
 " Set us up, laddie ! She indeed ! the sillie wastrife bodie 
 — she'd far better pay a' she's owing. Wha's neist 1 " 
 
 And so they would go on, the crabbed auld Scotchwoman 
 little suspecting half the " stour " proceeded from the active 
 imagination of her " nevoy," to heighten the fun and draw 
 her out. The following letters were written to his friends 
 at home during his sojourn in Dundee * : — 
 
 Dundee, September, 1815. 
 Dear Aunts, 
 
 I again take the pen for a double purpose — to endea- 
 vour to amuse both you and myself by a description of what- 
 ever attracts my notice. I am principally diverted here 
 with the singular characters that come to lodge here in 
 succession. When I first came we had a kind of itinerant 
 minister, who loved his bottle, 
 
 " And oft would rehearse 
 In defence of bis custom this scriptural verse, — 
 ' Take a little wine for thy stomach's sake — ' 
 But in practice the little, but jolly divine, 
 Would oft substitute whisky instead of the wine ! " 
 
 * He was two years in Scotland, and made his first appearance in print 
 therein 1814— first in the Dundee Advertiser, then edited by Mr. Rintoul, 
 and afterwards in a local magazine. He did not however, he says, adopt 
 literature as a profession till long after. — T. U.
 
 s 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 7 
 
 Since then we have been enlivened by a French captain, 
 who possessed in an eminent degree the gaiety and pohtcnesa 
 peculiar to that nation ; and I have been particularly amused 
 with a pedantic Perth schoolmaster who went up to London 
 during the vacation, and resided a fortnight in Wapping, — 
 in order to improve himself in English ! and said he was 
 '* vary sure he wadna be takken for a Scotsman." At pre- 
 sent we have a Swiss, who appears to be an agi-eeable man, 
 but I do not know how he may be on further acquaintance. 
 The study of character (T mean of amusing ones) I enjoy 
 exceedingly, and have had an ample field for speculation, for, 
 independent of originality of character, their ideas are aL«o 
 frequently of the same stamp, as in the case of our hostess, 
 who thinks that fresh beef will keep better than that which 
 is salted— but you will perhaps think this notion took its 
 rise in economy, and not in originality of idea. 
 
 About a week ago we had a company of Tumblers, who 
 established a kind of lottery hero at Is. per ticket, and 
 the chief prize, a cow and calf, valued at seven guineas ! 
 Now it agreed very well with the Scotch notion of economy 
 to get seven guineas for a shilling, but on the other hand 
 they considered the chance they had of perhaps losing their 
 bawbees, and no doubt it cost a straggle before they deter- 
 mined on buying their tickets ; — but when the drawing 
 began, it was ludicrous to observe the whimsical effects of 
 disappointment in the faces of some of the multitude. It 
 was a scene indeed worthy the pencil of Hogarth ! In the 
 evenings it is a beautiful promenade before the barracks, 
 where part of the 77th are at present quartered, and as they 
 have a fine band which plays every evening, I am there almost 
 every night. This, with walking, swimming, drawing, &c., 
 constitute my principal amusements during my banishment. 
 When you have spare time enough to write a few lines,
 
 6 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I shall be happy to hear from you, and I am, with love 
 
 to all. 
 
 Your affectionate nephew, 
 
 TuoMAS Hood. 
 
 The smack I intended to send this by is detained, so that 
 I have yet time to add more. As I am to remain and take 
 my Christmas in the Land of Cakes, you will perhaps expect 
 me to return a complete Scot, — but to tell you the truth, I 
 approach it as yet in but a small degree. I sicken with disgust 
 at the sight of a singed sheep's head, and notwithstanding 
 the arguments of Lismahago and the preference of the mouse, 
 which I admit is some support of them, I cannot bring my- 
 self to endure oatmeal, which I think harsh, dry, and insipid. 
 The only time I ever took it with any kind of relish was one 
 day on a trouting party, when I was hungry enough to eat 
 anything. As to their dialect I have acquired rather more 
 than I could wish, through the broad brogue of our landlady, 
 whose blunders would do credit to an Hibernian. 
 
 Dundee, December, 1815. 
 My dear Aunts, 
 
 I duly received your agreeable letter, which had it 
 been an "Evening Lecture" would have come very ct propos, 
 as I received it on Sunday night. I received at the same 
 time your handsome present, for which I beg leave to return 
 you my best thanks. I am sorry to learn that my aunts, 
 Ruth and Cundee, have been so ill, but rejoice to hear of 
 their recovery, and hope that your roast beef and pudding 
 will restore them to a pei'fect state of convalescence. As 
 you seem to have some fears of submitting your letters 
 to my criticism, I must assure you that you need be under
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 9 
 
 no apprehensions on that head, my own. epistolary style being 
 very indifferent, and I should fear by criticising to lose the 
 pleasure of receiving your letters. Instead of giving you any 
 regular description of this irregular town, I shall give you some 
 extracts from my note-book, wherein I am endeavouring to 
 describe it after the manner of Anstey's Bath Guide, in 
 letters from a family (Mr. Blunderhead's) to their friends in 
 London. 
 
 The town is ill-built, and is dirty beside 
 
 For with water it's scantily, badly supplied 
 
 By wells, where the servants, in filling their pails. 
 
 Stand for hours, spreading scandal, and falsehood and tales. 
 
 And abounds so in smells that a stranger supposes 
 
 The people are very deficient in noses. 
 
 Their buildings, as though they'd been scanty of ground, 
 
 Are crammed into comers that cannot be found. 
 
 Or as though so ill built and contrived they had been, 
 
 That the town were ashamed they should ever be seen. 
 
 And their rooted dislike and aversion to waste 
 
 Is suffer'd sometimes to encroach on their taste, 
 
 For beneath a Theatre or Chapel they'll pop 
 
 A sale room, a warehouse, or mean little shop, 
 
 "Whose windows, or rather no windows at all, 
 
 Are more like to so many holes in the wall. 
 
 And four churches together, with only one steeple. 
 
 Is an emblem quite apt of the thrift of the people. 
 * * * * 
 
 In walking one morning I came to the green. 
 
 Where the manner of washing in Scotland is seen ; 
 
 And I thought that it perhaps would amuse, should I write, 
 
 A description of what seemed a singular sight. 
 
 Here great bare-legged women were striding around, 
 
 And watering clothes that were laid on the ground. 
 
 "While, on t'other hand, you the lasses might spy 
 
 In tubs, with their petticoats up to the thigh. 
 
 And, instead of theii- hands, washing thus with their feet, 
 
 "Which they often will do in the midst of the street, 
 
 "Which appears quite indelicate, — shocking, indeed, 
 
 To those ladies who come from the south of the Tweed !
 
 10 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Like a fish out of water, you'll think me, my dear, 
 When our manner of living at present you hear ; 
 Here, hy ten in the morning our breakfast is done, 
 When in town I ne'er think about rising till one : 
 And at three, oh how vulgar, we sit down and dine, 
 And at six we take tea, and our supper at nine, 
 And then soberly go to our beds by eleven. 
 And as soberly rise the next morning by seven. 
 How unlike our great city of London, you'll say. 
 Where day's turned into night, and the night into day. 
 But indeed to these hours I'm obliged to attend, 
 There's so very few ways any leisure to spend. 
 For they ne'er play at cards. Commerce, Ombre, or Loo, 
 Though they often are carding of wool, it is true. 
 And instead of "piany's," Italian, sonatas, 
 At their spinning wheels sitting, they whistle like carters. 
 « * * • 
 
 A poor man who'd been reading the public events. 
 Amidst prices of stock, and consols, and per cents, 
 Observed Omnium, and anxious to know what it meant 
 With the news in his hand to a Bailie he went. 
 For he thought the best way to obtain information, 
 Was by asking at one of the wise corporation. 
 Mr. Bailie hum'd, ha'd, looked exceedingly vnse. 
 And considered a while, taken thus by surprise, 
 Till at length the poor man, who impatient stood by, 
 Got this truly sagacious, laconic reply, — 
 " Omnium's just Omnium." 
 Then returning at least just as wise as before. 
 He resolved to apply to a Bailie no more ! 
 
 * « *   
 
 I have seen the Asylum they lately have made, 
 
 And approve of the plan, but indeed I'm afraid 
 
 If they send all the people of reason bereft. 
 
 To this Bedlam, but few in the town will be left. 
 
 For their passions and di-ink are so terribly strong 
 
 That but few here retain all their faculties long. 
 
 And with shame I must own, that the females, I think. 
 
 Are in general somewhat addicted to diink ! 
 
 • • * • 
 
 Now I speak of divines, in the churches I've been, 
 Of which four are together, and walls but between, 
 
 11
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. II 
 
 So as yoTi sit in one, you may hear in the next, 
 When the clerk gives the psalm, or the priest givea the text. 
 With respect to their -worship, with joy I must say 
 Their strict bigoted tenets are wearing away. 
 And each day moderation still stronger appears, 
 Nor should I much wonder, if in a few years. 
 The loud notes of the organ the burthen should raise 
 Midst the chorus of voices, the homage, and praise. 
 For I cannot conceive for what cause they deny 
 . The assistance of music, in raising on high 
 Our thanksgiving and psalms, as King David of old, 
 Upon numberless instruments played, we are told ; 
 Nor to music can theme more sublime be e'er given, 
 Than of wafting the strains of the righteous to heaven. 
 They've a custom, a little surprising, I own, 
 And in practice I think found in Scotland alone. 
 For in England for penance, in churchyards they stand 
 In a sheet, while a taper they hold in their hand ; 
 But here in the Church, if the parties think fit. 
 On a stool called the " Guttie," for penance they sit, 
 And, as though absolution they thus did obtain. 
 Go and sin, then appear the next Sunday again ! 
 Superstition as yet, though it's dying away. 
 On the minds of the vulgar holds powerful sway, 
 And on doors or on masts you may frequently view, 
 As defence against witchcraft, some horse's old shoe. 
 And the mariner's wife sees her child with alarm 
 Comb her hair in the glass, and predicts him some harm. 
 Tales of goblins and ghosts that alai-med such a one 
 By tradition are handed from father to son. 
 And they oft will describe o'er their twopenny ale 
 Some poor ghost with no head, or grey mare without tail, 
 Or lean corpse in night-cap, all bloody and pale ! 
 
       • 
 
 Some large markets for cattle or fairs are held here, 
 On a moor near the town, about thrice in a year. 
 So I went to the last, found it full, to my thinking, 
 Of whisky and porter, of smoking and drinking. 
 But to picture the scene there presented, indeed. 
 The bold pencil and touches of Hogarth would need. 
 Here you'd perhaps see a man upon quarrelling bent 
 In short serpentine curves, wheeling out of a tent,
 
 12 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 (For at least so tliey call blankets raised upon poles, 
 
 Well enlightened and aired by the numerous holes,) 
 
 Or some hobbling old wife, just as drunk as a sow, 
 
 Having spent all the money she got for her cow. 
 
 Perhaps some yet unsold, when the market has ceased, 
 
 You may then see a novelty, beast leading beast ! 
 * * « * 
 
 (No date. ) 
 
 Dear Uxclb, 
 
 Having heard from my aunts of the measles having 
 attacked your family, we are anxious to hear how you all 
 are, and 1 seize upon this opportunity to thank you for 
 sending my box, and for the kind expressions contained in 
 your last letter, but have been so variously engaged, besides 
 being unwell, that I have not had time to write till now. I 
 have the pleasure of informing you that my voyage to Scot- 
 land has done wonders for me, as, since my return, my neck 
 has altogether healed, and my leg has gained so much 
 strength that I have been enabled to walk several times to 
 the West End and back, without any injury, and I certainly 
 feel and look better than I have done for years, I now hope 
 to be able to look after business a little, and to do well, both 
 in that and in health. I did some things for Mr. Harris 
 before I went to Scotland with which he was very well 
 pleased, but have had no proofs, as I did them while H. was 
 busy on the Battle of Waterloo, and could not prove for me. 
 I desired him to send you a proof I did in Spring, which 1 
 suppose you have had. We had the pleasure of Mrs. Le 
 Keux's company to dinner while she was in town, and I was 
 happy to see that she looked much better than when I left 
 the country. I have seen some of your last works, which I 
 have greatly admired, and was much gratified by a sight of 
 the printed papers you sent to my aunt's, containing eulo- 
 giums, which, allow me to say, 1 think you justly merit, and
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 13 
 
 believe me, gave me great and unfeigned pleasure. We beg 
 that you will drop us a line or two by the first convenient 
 opportunity to let us know how you all are. As for ourselves 
 we are all well, and desire you will accept our love to you all. 
 I am, in haste, dear uncle, 
 
 Your affectionate nephew, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 I hope to hear also that your farming is in a thriving 
 condition. 
 
 My father must have returned to London about 1820. 
 While residing at Islington, he became acquainted with the 
 members of an Amateur Literary Society, and attended its 
 meetings at the house of a friend. I am indebted to Miss 
 Lawrence, whose historical works are well known, for this 
 information, and for copies of two " Addresses," which my 
 father wrote for the society, of which she is probably the sole 
 surviving member. The first address was subsequently pub- 
 lished, with alterations and additions, as " The Departure of 
 Summer," in the London Magazine. The following lines, 
 omitted in the revised poem, follow after " A welcome — nor 
 unbidden guest." I have thought as they were among his 
 earliest waitings that they deserved to be enshrined here. 
 The second address has not been before printed : it is headed, 
 "Address to the Social Literary Society, July, 1820." 
 
 And now the slipper strikes the ground, \ 
 
 And now the blind man's eyes are bound, > 
 
 They turn him round, and round, and round, ) 
 
 His horses are "black, white, and grey ;" 
 
 He cannot guess the fingers three, 
 
 Sure token that he cannot see. 
 
 So let him catch the wight he may. 
 
 Ah! now " pinch -spotted as the pard," 
 
 He asks them why they pinch so har<l ?
 
 14 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Now gaily claims the forfeit kiss 
 
 With eager lips, for blushing Miss 
 
 Must ransom silver thimbles so, — 
 
 And Time, as he goes laughing past, 
 
 Such eyes that shine, such cheeks that glow, 
 
 Regrets that he must fly so fast. 
 
 Now Winter joins a graver set. 
 
 Just met — perchance as we are met 
 
 In close divan — but not their parts. 
 
 So gravely ask if trumps be hearts ? 
 
 Or hearts be trumps ? spades, diamonds, clubs. 
 
 Or mourning fickle Fortune's rubs, 
 
 Sitting so wistfully and mute. 
 
 To trump, revoke, or follow suit. 
 
 'Tis theirs to speak of better things 
 
 Than e'en Court Honours, Knaves, and Kings — 
 
 Which, with the odd trick and the stake. 
 
 And all the rest, the Deuce may take — 
 
 'Tis theirs to ask if one may trace 
 
 The mind, the heart, within the face ? 
 
 Or whether Satire's venom'd sting 
 
 From Envy and ill-nature spring ? 
 
 If people fill the planets bright ? 
 
 And whence their life, and heat, and light ? 
 
 Then leave the skies, to ask, and show 
 
 The springs from whence ideas flow. 
 
 Or cut vile Prejudice in shreds. 
 
 To analyse the Hydi-a's heads. 
 
 And what is Taste ? and does the stage 
 
 Or pulpit most to mend the age ; 
 
 Or musing o'er the olden time. 
 
 Talk o'er its chivaliy sublime. 
 
 Or turn to Chymistry's deep page — 
 
 Then last, not least, they wisely ask, 
 
 What man himself — his moral nature ? 
 
 Or view their country's laws and task 
 
 The Flaws in Ci\'il Judicature. 
 
 Happy are those who thus can meet 
 
 And find such conversations sweet ! 
 
 Happy are those who thus can chuse 
 
 Such blameless themes, that oft amusa,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 15 
 
 And oft improve. No stories sprung 
 
 From Envy's heart to Satire's tongue, 
 
 No praise oblique that ends in blame, 
 
 No Scandal, loving to condemn 
 
 All virtue but her own — the gem 
 
 That's foil'd upon another's shame. 
 
 No Pride disdaining to resign 
 
 Its very errors for the right, 
 
 Nor Anger with more heat than light, 
 
 Nor Vanity that bums to shine. 
 
 Thus, then, we meet, and if ye bring 
 
 Wit, Beauty, Sense, and ev'ry thing 
 
 Ye took away— and Mirth, and Health, 
 
 That have more honey-sweets than wealth. 
 
 Welcome! thrice welcome ! — whether come 
 
 From Paris — Islington — or Rome, 
 
 Or even Como's far-famed lake, 
 
 A warm, and heartfelt Welcome take ! 
 
 ADDRESS, &c. 
 
 Nature, like man, her summer coat puts on, 
 Her mourning's over — and the Winter's gone. 
 The Serpentine is clear — Hyde Park is green, 
 And verdant trees, in Tothill Fields, are seen, 
 And summer's warm, and vegetative pow'rs. 
 Are seen in Covent Garden's fruits and tiow'i-s. 
 
 Now, rouse the swallows from their torpid sleepj 
 And thro' the air in wanton circuits sweep ; 
 The butterflies escape from winter cells. 
 And shine abroad— like other Beaux and Belles. 
 London's gay Ladybirds emerge in white, 
 And even City Drones prepare for flight. 
 Each busy Gad-fly her old plumage scours. 
 For "a-qu-a-tic trips," or dryland " tow'rs." 
 Some go to Bath, from mineral springs to sip. 
 And some in Nature's pickle-tub to dip. 
 Some, sick of London and of smoke, agiee 
 To go to Margate — and be sick at sea I
 
 16 MEMORIALS OF THOMAb HCOD. 
 
 Steam-boats and hoys are crammed with living freight, 
 
 Till Ocean groans, and grumbles at the weight ! 
 
 Pouring from these — a vast migrating host, 
 
 They swarm, like locusts, all along the coast. 
 
 Princes, and Pedlars — all pursue the same, 
 
 Hunters they arc, and Happiness the game. 
 
 Some look for Fortune in the fickle pack. 
 
 And some for Pleasure— on a donkey's back ! 
 
 Some go to advertise a pretty face, 
 
 And some to deal in Cognac and lace ; 
 
 Some seek for Husbands— some from Husbands run, 
 
 And some are done — "or done for" — "or undone." 
 
 Some sedentary souls, less given to roam, 
 
 Contented "ruralize" more near to Home. 
 
 In all those verdant meadows that abound 
 
 At Hackney — Islington — and all around, 
 
 Like sportive lambkins, or young calves at play. 
 
 They love to gambol in the summer hay. 
 
 That hay is fragrant, and the grass as green 
 
 As though Saint Paul's blue dome were quite unseen. 
 
 Or, luU'd by music, on the breeze that swells, 
 
 (The well-known harmony of old Bow Bells,) 
 
 They gaze, enraptur'd, on the prospect round, 
 
 A rural scene — with brick horizon bound ! 
 
 AU cockney beauties are to Cockneys sweet, 
 
 So Canonbury seems a country seat. 
 
 The pale New River is as bright a stream, 
 
 As mighty Tiber— the proud Roman's them& 
 
 Nor Italy's sweet groves are half so good 
 
 As that green labyrinth at Hornsey Wood ; 
 
 And say, what garden e'er was plann'd or pcnn'd. 
 
 Like that of Fleecy Hosey — at Mile End ? 
 
 Where painted garden -pots the alleys fill, 
 
 In flaming rows — like Volunteers at drill, 
 
 And all the ground in rich devices spreads 
 
 Of ovals, circles, squares — nay, diamond beds ! 
 
 But if in town predestin'd to remain, 
 
 To sigh ' ' Oh, Rus. , " but sigh, alas ! in vain, 
 
 The Cit invests a sum in Purple Stocks, 
 
 And from his window hangs his Country Box. 
 
 There strives the smells of London to forget. 
 
 Snuffing the fragrance of the Mignonette,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. H 
 
 And revelling in Fancy's airy food, 
 Enjoys a garden — in his hanging wood ! 
 
 So certain students to a town confin'd, 
 (All Nature's charms and scenery resign 'd,) 
 Enraptur'd, listened o'er their learned pages, 
 To grasshoppers that sung from paper cages ! 
 But chief of all the joys that Cockneys know 
 In summer days — is gipseying to go, 
 Oh how delightful ! underneath a tree 
 To sit, and sip — a rural cup of tea ! 
 All on the grass — for table there is none — 
 And taking tea — as Adam must have done ! 
 
 The Cit, uncoated sits apart to muse. 
 O'er Morning Chronicle — or Times, or News. 
 Silence ! ye little ones ! the mother cries, 
 And Granny chides, but with approving eyes, 
 E'en little Shock augments the merry scene. 
 In gambols with the urchins, on the green, 
 And William whispers to his Mary dear, 
 And Mary blushes, nor appears to hear. 
 With face averted, plucks a flow'r the while. 
 And strives to hide her blushes and her smile. 
 This, this is bliss ! the best that Cockneys find, 
 (When nought is lost —nor kettle left behind. ) 
 
 Such are the scenes, by Gipsey Parties made, 
 
 Such, Leslie's pencil hath of late pourtray'd. 
 
 Though Taste may smile at means, and modes of bliss. 
 
 Benevolence exults in scenes like this. 
 
 Not Italy's bright scenes could charm the eye. 
 
 If stained with Battle's sanguinary dye. 
 
 But, sure, that prospect will be counted bright. 
 
 Where hundreds roam, in innocent delight. 
 
 Where happy groups of fellow-beings throng 
 
 All blythe, and meiTy, as a Beggar's Song. 
 
 But whither. Muse, mvust Cockneys soon repair 
 For rural scenery — and country ' ' hare ? " 
 Where once were avenues of trees, so green. 
 Now dusty streets, and climbing bricks are seen. 
 "VOL X. 2
 
 18 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 On one sad field the teeming houses rise, 
 
 Another field, the fuming bricks supplies : 
 
 The chimneys smoke, where flow'rs were sweet before, 
 
 And (in a word) Moor Fields are fields no moi'e. 
 
 But not alone the giddy, and the gay, 
 
 Exult and frolic in the summer ray. 
 
 The grave philosopher — the hoary sage, 
 
 Resign the closet, and the mouldy page. 
 
 "Adieu, they cry — ye dusty tomes, adieu, 
 
 Lo, Nature's volume's opened to our view, 
 
 Lessons in every leaf shall then be ours, 
 
 And morals, gather'd from the simplest flowers. " 
 
 There will we gather, like the Bee, a store, 
 
 For Contemplation, when the summer's o'er. 
 
 Go, cries the Moralist — the fields invite. 
 Sip, while still young, each innocent delight. 
 Roam, like the Butterfly, from place, to place, 
 And gaze on Nature's ever-varied face. 
 Let Vision revel in her summer charms. 
 While glows the bosom, and the Fancy warms. 
 While day reviving — into splendour wakes 
 The vivid scenery of Western Lakes. 
 Or mark from Surrey's hills each fairy scene, 
 Or Windsor's Terrace — or delightful Sheen, 
 Where silver Thames, his winding waters leads. 
 Thro' fields of waving gold, and emerald meads. 
 Where snowy flocks, and browsing herds abound, 
 And clust'ring villages are scatter'd round. 
 Sacred to Peace, where honest hearts reside, 
 And Freedom dwells — the humblest peasant's pride I 
 There, mark the harmony of blended hues. 
 Of yellow, orange, purple, green, and blues. 
 Where light and shade, in partial streaks reflect, 
 And shed around the Magic of Efiect. 
 
 Such are the scenes, the frequent scenes, that smila, 
 
 And bind the Briton to his native Isle. 
 
 The country of the Good, the Wise, the Brave, 
 
 And, oh ! too beautiful to bear a slave ! 
 
 Whose lovely daughters in each charm excel, 
 
 The fairest shrines where Virtue loves to dwell !
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 19 
 
 Long, long, my country, may thy prospects shine ! 
 And all those blessings unimpaired be thine. 
 May honest industry its own obtain, 
 May Virtue triumph, Truth with Justice reign. 
 And Peace, with Freedom, flourish on thy shore, 
 Till thine, and Nature's charms, shall be no more ! 
 
 But some to other lands for Pleasure roam, 
 
 Cloy'd with the scenes that Nature lends at Home. 
 
 Helvetia's scenery the Painter fires. 
 
 And classic Italy the Muse inspii-es. 
 
 To holy Palestine few pilgrims stray. 
 
 While France allures whole coveys of the gay. 
 
 These shining novelties the giddy please, 
 
 And empty Vanity is quite at ease. 
 
 Here Folly has its day, and Fashion rules, 
 
 The potent sovereign — the Pope of Fools, 
 
 That can its many votaries control. 
 
 Like Pius's great self from head to sole, 
 
 Can place them Purgatory's pains within. 
 
 And grant Indulgences — and sanction sin ! 
 
 Yet, oh ! that these would ne'er forget the lot. 
 The want, and woe in many a British cot. 
 Where manly hearts distU the big, round, tear, 
 And bleed, in silence, like the stricken deer. 
 Shall gay, ungalled hearts, go bounding by, 
 And heedless Wealth its patronage deny ? 
 Sweep on, sweep on, ye citizens, nor look 
 On overflowing hearts, that swell the brook. 
 Seek other homes, on other pastures range. 
 And say, that Tyranny provoked the change, 
 Go, make your coward infamy your boast, 
 And fly, when Patriots are wanted most ! 
 
 For us — now leaving literary flowers 
 For those of Nature and her sxunmer bowers. 
 Our learned law, like ^sop's we unbend. 
 And in this rhyme our reasonings aU end. 
 We go, where Fate or Fortune may decree, 
 And Heav'n attend our path where'er it be !
 
 20 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 But when Dame Winter shall, in clogs, approach— 
 
 Wrapp'd in Bath Cloak, and calling ' ' Hackney Coacli ! " 
 
 When summer's swallows shall forsake our shore — 
 
 And painted butterflies shall fly no more — 
 
 When grubs retire their secret cells within, 
 
 And London's Ladybirds — but not to spin — 
 
 When jolly farmers their October brew — 
 
 Then, this Society shall meet anew. 
 
 Then Social Harmony shall take the Chair, 
 
 And Learning's votaries be welcome there, 
 
 And smiling Mirth shall mingle with the rest, 
 
 A welcome, nor an uninvited guest. — 
 
 Friendship, and Argument in league shall sit. 
 
 And sober Judgment shaking hands with Wit ; 
 
 And, as 'tis ours — and may be — ours alone 
 
 The charms of Female eloquence to own. 
 
 So thoughts shall rise, from Taste, and Feeling, sprung, 
 
 And set to music — on the Ladies' tongue. 
 
 Then Blackie shall exert his varied pow'rs. 
 
 And Barber's eloquence again be ours, 
 
 Lawrence shall lend his bucket for the well. 
 
 Where Truth, where naked Truth, is said to dwell. 
 
 Mackenzie, Harper, younger Lawrence, strive. 
 
 To draw her to the top, or else to dive, 
 
 And I — to occupy an idle time 
 
 May teach you all, as now — to prose in rhjine. — 
 
 Then hopes the Muse a merrier tale to tell, 
 
 Than now — when doom'd to finish with "Farewell ! " 
 
 The following letter was written some years later, during a 
 temporary stay in the country, though in what exact part 
 cannot be ascertained : — 
 
 8tk August, 1823. 
 My dear Betsy, 
 
 You did right to let me hear from you, as it was a 
 
 pleasure in addition to my being here — where I am picking 
 
 up a month's health iu a fortnight, so as to make me regret 
 
 that my stay here must be necessarily so short as it will be. 
 
 My purpose is, to return on Tuesday, on which night I expect
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 21 
 
 you will see me, if nothing occurs to prevent my departure 
 from here, which is not likely. I did not write to let you 
 know of my safe arrival, but took it for granted that you 
 would not suppose I was killed by the way unless you heard 
 from me to the contrary. I have found the place much 
 pleasanter and prettier than I expected, certainly much more 
 so than Sandhurst, perhaps on account of my company. It 
 is low and flat ; but there are trees enough to make it 
 agreeable to one who has lived two years in Dundee, and 
 then for a change I have a little nursing ! The baby comes 
 to me very cheerfully, and I can make shift to carry her up 
 and down the garden, without cramping her, or breaking her 
 limbs. Indeed I could pass a month of my life in my 
 present way very willingly, and I think it would make my 
 life a month longer, I eat, drink, and sleep so well. By the 
 way of this last particular, it will surprise you to know that 
 I rise amongst the first of the family, the maids excepted, 
 so that I can almost fancy myself, vide Humphrey Clinker, 
 the cock at Brambleton Hall. You will not have heard of 
 my trip to Norwich with Mr. L., who was summoned there to 
 the assizes. It is about 50 miles hence, and we drove it in 
 a gig, through a most pleasant country. I was exceedingly 
 amused for the four days we staid there. We went to the 
 Cathedral by chance, one morning, when by good luck there 
 was a grand Charity Musical Festival, as fine as an Oratorio. 
 Then we went to the theatre, (where Miss Holdaway now is, 
 and was, instead of playing Safie, as F. erroneously reports), 
 and last of all to Finch's Gardens, a sort of twopenny Vaux- 
 hall, where I laughed heartily at the ridiculous attempt to 
 rival Bish, <fec. Finally, I am here again, so you see I have 
 been in luck in coming just when I did, in all but one thing. 
 The account of Frankenstein is not mine, but F.'s. / should 
 have spoken more favourably of it, and Mr. Peake wiU take
 
 22 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD, 
 
 it ill till the matter is explained, that it is not more kindly 
 treated, for I understand it deserves no less. I sent him 
 a plot made up from Reynolds' account and the newspapers, 
 but for some reason he did not make use of it. I tried very 
 much at Norwich to find out E. G., alias Mrs. R, but after a 
 long hunt from street to street on the scent, I came at last 
 to a wrong old Mr. R., who looked very ill-pleased at being 
 called from his breakfast to a perfect stranger. I thought 
 it must be his son I wanted, and told him so. He said 
 he had no son, being an old bachelor ! Dispirited by this 
 unlucky result, I gave up the pursuit ; otherwise I should 
 have been happy to have brought to Mrs. R. an account of 
 E. and her little girl, but she must take the will for the 
 deed. Norwich is a very large place, and E. does not 
 sit on a steeple, so there was little chance of finding her 
 without her address. 
 
 I am glad to hear Kate is going back, for I was afraid she 
 would lose all her acquirements if she stayed much longer 
 at home. I should have been glad if the girls' holiday had 
 happened when I was at home. 
 
 Your hopes about weather have had no effect, at least 
 within our neighbourhood. It has been anything but 
 summer with us ; and heaven knows how the fruit is to 
 ripen, or the harvest, if the sun continues to bear this wet 
 countenance. I have taken a sketch or two — the church for 
 
 Mr. L., the rectory for , and the house here for Mrs. 
 
 Reynolds ; but if you should be in Little Britain before I 
 return, be " mum budget " as usual on this subject. I have 
 no news, of course you cannot expect any from a county 
 only famous for its turkeys. Jane is very well, the baby 
 improves very much and will soon toddle — besides having 
 four teeth, which is a great comfort to her victuals. 
 
 Pray give my kindest love to the girls at Brompton ; ask
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 23 
 
 them to come home on the Sunday after I come home, if you 
 be sending. Jane and Eliza desire their kind love, which 
 with my own " I wrap under one kiver," and am, dear 
 Betsy, 
 
 Your affectionate brother, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 After practising as an engraver for a short time, an opening 
 that offered more congenial employment presented itself at 
 last, when he was about the age of twenty-one. By the death 
 of Mr. John Scott, the editor of the "Loudon Magazine," who 
 was killed in a duel, that periodical passed into other hands, 
 and became the property of my father's friends, Messrs. 
 Taylor and Hessey. The new proprietors soon sent for him, 
 and he became a sort of sub-editor to the magazine. 
 
 I am exceedingly indebted to the kindness and courtesy of 
 Messrs. Taylor and Hessey (who have both survived almost 
 all their contributors) for several particulars relating to my 
 father s early life. From the latter gentleman's letter on the 
 subject I have ventured to quote largely. 
 
 " I remember," he says, " often having seen the late Mr. 
 Hood when he was a mere boy at the house of his father, 
 ■whom I had the pleasure of knowing intimately for many 
 years. He was, as far as I can recollect, a singular child, 
 silent and retired, with much quiet humour, and apparently 
 delicate in health. He was educated at a school in the 
 neighbourhood of London,* and at the age of fifteen or 
 
 • This school was at Clapham, and was kept by Dr. Wanostrocht — the 
 father of the well-known cricketer, Felix. I can remember my father's 
 pointing it out to me, while we were living at the latter place. At that 
 time it was converted into a naval school, I think. Of many schoolboy 
 tricks and adventures, related by him, I regret that I can recall only very 
 faint recollections, for they were very laughable, and might go among the 
 exempla minora to prove the rule "the child is father to the man." 
 Amongst other anecdotes, I remember one in which he was the instigator
 
 24 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 sixteen was articled to his uncle, Mr. Sands, as an engraver. 
 His health, however, beginning to suffer from confinement, it 
 was found necessary to put an end to that engagement, and 
 he was sent to a relation in Scotland,* where he remained 
 some years with great benefit. He returned to town about 
 the beginning of the year 1821. In that year the "London 
 Magazine " came into the hands of Mr. Taylor and myself, 
 after the death of the editor, Mr. John Scott; and Mr. Hood 
 was engaged to assist the editor in correcting the press, and 
 in looking over papers sent for insertion. This was his first 
 introduction to the literary world ; and here he first amused 
 himself by concocting humorous notices and answers to 
 correspondents in the ' Lion's Head.' His first original 
 paper appeared in the number for July, 1821, vol. iv. p. 85, 
 in some verses 'To Hope.' I find nothing more of his until 
 November of the same year, when his humorous ' Ode to Dr. 
 Kitchener' appeared in the 'Lion's Head' of that month ; 
 a poem, ' The Departure of Summer,' in the body of the 
 number, p. 493; and a 'Sentimental Journey from Islington 
 to Waterloo Bridge,' in the same number, p. 508. From 
 that time he became a regular contributor, and as many as 
 twenty-four more papers of various kinds appeared, the last 
 being 'Lines to a Cold Beauty,' in June, 1823, after which 
 time I find no further production of his pen. 
 
 " Mr. Hood's connection with the ' London Magazine ' led 
 to his introduction to om* friend Mr. Reynolds (and thi'ough 
 
 of a purely homoeopathic revenge upon tlie footman, who was permitted to 
 vend nuts, parliament, and marbles to the pupils. Monopoly of trade 
 induced the man to raise the price above the "outside" standard, whereon 
 characteristic retaliation was inflicted by raising the articles (that is the 
 desk in which they were kept) by four cords to the schoolhouse ceiling. 
 When the charges were lowered, the desk was permitted to follow their 
 example. — T. H. 
 
 * According to his own "Literary Reminiscences," he was for some time 
 clerk in a merchant's office^
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 25 
 
 him to his sister) and to the various contributors to the 
 work, Charles Lamb, Allan Cunningham, Hazlitt, Horace 
 Smith, Judge Talfourd, Barry Cornwall, the Rev. H. F. Carey, 
 Sir Charles A. Elton, Charles Phillips, Dr. Bowring, John 
 Clare, Thomas De Quincey, George Darley, the Rev. Charles 
 Strong, Wainwright, Hartley Coleridge, Bernard Barton, 
 Richard Ay ton, the Rev. Mr. Crowe, Rev. Julius Hare, Rev. 
 Dr. Bliss, John Poole, Esq., &c. &c. 
 
 " At the end of the year 1824 the magazine passed into 
 the hands of another person as proprietor and editor, and I 
 have no means of ascertaining who were then its chief sup- 
 porters; but I do not believe Mr. Hood contributed to it at 
 all. Mr. Reynolds continued to write in that work till the 
 end of the year 1824. 
 
 " My acquaintance with Mr. Hood ceased about the year 
 1823, till which time I had enjoyed the pleasure of constant 
 communication with him. Soon afterwards I went into the 
 country, and, I regret to say, I never saw him again." 
 
 My father's first acquaintance with my mother's family 
 must have commenced somewhere in 1821, through her 
 brothei', John Hamilton Reynolds. The fathsi', Mr. Reynolds, 
 was head writing-master at Christ's Hospital, and with his 
 family then resided in that very little Britain so quaintly 
 and well described by Washington Irving in his " Sketch 
 Book." Here, no doubt, many a cheerful evening was spent 
 among such a pleasant circle of friends and acquaintances. 
 John Keats, Edward Rice, and a Air, Bailey were all familiar 
 friends and constant correspondents of the young Reynoldses.* 
 I think however my father's intimacy dated rather later, for 
 
 * I have heard since the publication of this first edition, from Lady 
 Hill, the worthy -svife of Sir Rowland Hill, the author of the Penny Post, 
 that her father, Mr. Pearson, was an old and valued member of this 
 Society.
 
 26 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I do not tliink he was well acquainted with any of the above 
 mentioned trio. But about this time must have originated 
 his long-standing friendship with Mr. and Mrs. Dilke, who 
 were known to all parties. 
 
 John Hamilton Reynolds was himself a writer for the 
 " London Magazine," in which appeared several articles from 
 his pen under the signature of "Edward Herbert." He was 
 also the author of a small volume of poems, " The Garden 
 of Florence," which was favourably noticed at the time. To 
 him, my father, in a very friendly manner*, dedicated " Lycus 
 the Centaur." A congeniality of pursuits and likings drew 
 them together — a connection that was afterwards by my 
 father's marriage with his sister to be still further strength- 
 ened. It was a pity it did not survive to the end, for 
 on one side at least it was characteristically generous and 
 sincere. 
 
 It was " in the pleasant spring-time of their friendship," 
 and " with the old partiality for the writings of each other, 
 which prevailed in those days," that conjointly with my 
 uncle Reynolds, my father wrote and published, although 
 anonymously, "Odes and Addresses to Great People.'' This 
 had a great sale, and occasioned no little wonder and specu- 
 lation as to the author, as will be seen from the following 
 letter from S. T. Coleridge to Charles Lamb, It appears to 
 have been sent for perusal, as the copy I have is in my 
 father's handwriting. 
 
 My dear Charles, 
 
 This afternoon, a little, thin, mean-looking sort of a 
 foolscap sub-ootavo of poems, printed on dingy outsides, lay 
 on the table, which the cover informed me was circulating in 
 our book-club, so very Grub-streetish in all its exteriors, in- 
 ternal as well as external, that I cannot explain by what
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 27 
 
 accident of impulse (assuredly there was no motive in play) I 
 came to look into it. Least of all, the title, " Odes and 
 Addresses to Great Men," which connected itself in my head 
 with " Rejected Addresses " and all the Smith and Theodore 
 Hook squad. But my dear Charles, it was certainly written 
 by you, or under you, or una cum you. I know none of 
 your frequent visitors capacious and assimilative enough of 
 your converse to have reproduced you so honestly, supposing 
 you had left yourself in pledge in his lock-up house. Gill- 
 man, to whom I read the spirited parody on the introduction 
 to Peter Bell, the " Ode to the Great Unknown," and to 
 Mrs. Fry — he speaks doubtfully of Reynolds and Hood. But 
 here come Irving and Basil Montagu. 
 
 Thursday night, 10 o'c^c^.— No! Charles, it is you. I 
 have read them over again, and I understand why you have 
 anon'd the book. The puns are nine in ten good, many 
 excellent, the Neivgatory transcendant ! And then the ex- 
 emplum sine exemplo of a volume of personalities, and con- 
 temporaneities, without a single line that could inflict the 
 infinitesimal of an unpleasance on any man in his senses — 
 saving and except perhaps in the envy- addled brain of ths 
 despiser of your lays. If not a triumph over him, it is at 
 least an ovation. Then moreover and besides, to speak with 
 becoming modesty, excepting my own self, who is there but 
 you who could write the musical lines and stanzas that are 
 intermixed ? 
 
 Here's Gillman come up to my garret, and driven back by 
 the guardian spirits of four huge flower-holders of omni- 
 genous roses and honeysuckles (Lord have mercy on his hyste- 
 rical olfactories ! What will he do in Paradise? I must have 
 a pair or two of nostril plugs or nose-goggles laid in his 
 coflfin), stands at the door, reading that to McAdam, and the 
 washerwoman's letter, and he admits tlie facts. You are
 
 28 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 found in tJie manner, as the lawyers say : so, Mr. Charles, 
 hang yourself up, and send me a line by way of token and 
 acknowledgment. My dear love to Mary. God bless you 
 and your 
 
 Unshamabramizer, 
 
 S. T. COLERIDGK 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 On the 5th of May, 1824, the marriage of my father and 
 mother took place.* In spite of all the sickness and sorrow 
 that formed the greatest portion of the after-part of their 
 lives, the union was a happy one. My mother was a woman 
 of cultivated mind and literary tastes, and well suited to him 
 as a companion. He had such confidence in her judgment 
 that he read, and re-read, and corrected with her all that he 
 wrote. Many of his articles were first dictated to her, and 
 her ready memoiy supplied him with his references and quo- 
 tations. He frequently dictated the first draft of his articles 
 although they were always finally copied out in his pecu- 
 liarly clear neat writing, which was so legible and good, 
 that it was once or twice begged by j^rinters, to teach 
 their compositors a first and easy lesson in reading hand- 
 writing. 
 
 * I have reason to believe that the match was not entirely approved of 
 by my mother's family — not perhaps unreasonably, for it could not have 
 seemed very prudent : but the attachment was strong and genuine on both 
 sides, and so the course of true love at length reached its goal, though not 
 perhaps running very smoothly. The poems, "I love Thee," "Still 
 flows the gentle streamlet on," and several others, were written at this 
 time.— T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 29 
 
 There has been so much pleasant interest in the few- 
 letters of my mother's, which appeared in the first edition of 
 this work, that I am induced to print, in extenso, her first 
 letter as my father's wife, — a letter that I think, even in 
 these days, will be recognised as the sweet fresh letter of a 
 womanly young bride. 
 
 Hastings, 10«A May, 1824. 
 Mt dear Betsy, 
 
 Your brother is going to write to the three girls in 
 town, and so I have taken upon myself to give some little 
 account of our proceedings and adventures. We had a 
 lovely day for travelling on Thursday, though the morning 
 lowered upon i;s so : the rain had laid the dust, and the 
 sun came forth to cheer us immediately we left town. 
 We did not stop at Tunbridge, as our post-boy chose to 
 fix upon Woodsgate as our resting place to dine at. We 
 reached Hastings about half-past nine, and I was sadly 
 tired, as you may suppose. Our lodgings are very snug and 
 comfortable, and Mrs. Ferraor is a nice civil little woman ; 
 we enjoy the sea, the air, and our meals with all our might, 
 and if I go on as I have set out, your brother has got as idle 
 and gossiping a wife as you will find in the three kingdoms ! 
 The day after our arrival here, we went out for a sail in Tom 
 Woodgate's new boat, and were invited on board a man-of- 
 war, which had just come from Calais, where it had just 
 taken the Duke of Cambridge. I was whipped up in the 
 chair, and we were conducted over the vessel by as handsome 
 a young lieutenant as you would wish to see ! It was 
 unlucky I was married, as such an adventure to a single 
 woman would have been advantageous. We took wine and 
 biscuits in the lieutenant's cabin, and just as we were about 
 to leave the ship, the captain came on board. He begged we
 
 30 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 would not hurry away, but we found they were going to sail 
 immediately, and did not wish to be carried oflF to Ports- 
 mouth. Yesterday I was prevailed upon to take another 
 sail, and got myself wet through, and a little frightened into 
 the bargain, as we had a squall by way of a treat for me. 
 Indeed, 1 almost suspected that your brother took me out 
 with a hope that I should be washed overboard — and he 
 play the young widower on the beach ! 
 
 I am very much pleased with Hastings ; we have had some 
 beautiful walks, and have many more in store. I have not 
 yet reached the castle, nor Charles Lamb's little church,* but 
 the weather is very favourable to our little schemes, and we 
 have no fault to find, but that a week has flown like a day, 
 and we have only another to stay here. Your brother begs 
 I will tell you that the town is empty, and that he is the 
 handsomest man here ! For this reason he drags me over the 
 shingle every day, wearing out my shoes, that he may be seen ! 
 
 I have heard from home to-day. My mother seems to 
 have been very much fatigued after Thursday, and I am not 
 surprised, as her feelings must have been much tried, and 
 M.'s illness rendered the bustle greater than it would have 
 been otherwise.' I hope you all found the day as agreeable 
 as such a day could be, for I know what a sister's feelings are 
 upon such an occasion. But I hope you will all think that I 
 am your sister indeed, ever ready to show you the afifection 
 of one, and eager to be beloved by you all. The love I bear 
 for one you all love, and the happiness that I experience in 
 bemg his wife, will always make me look upon you with 
 affection ; and I think I should be very ungrateful if I did 
 not add that your kindness to me will be another motive 
 that I shall love you all. I am getting serious ; but you 
 
 • A fiction of Lamb's — see " My Literary Reminiscences" in "Hood'8 
 Own."
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. S\ 
 
 will forgive me, I hope, for my heart is very full, and if I 
 touch it the happiness will overflow. You will laugh at me, 
 perhaps, and talk about the honey-moon ; but your brother 
 and I have had many seasons of trouble and vexations that 
 have made our present enjoyment greater. I must say to 
 you all, get married as fust as you can ; but don't marry 
 unless you love the man, for then a married state must be 
 miserable. 
 
 I hope you will write to us before we leave here, and say 
 how the fifth went off, and if you liked our favourite, Edward 
 Rice ;* he read the marriage ceremony so beautifully that we 
 wish to have it over again. Did not Jessie admire his voice ? 
 James Rice was on his best behaviour; but he is generally 
 the terror of all single ladies, though a bit of a favourite 
 with the married ones. We are very fortunate in our 
 weather, only now and then a shower, which makes it fresher, 
 and cools the air. I almost long to bathe, but have not 
 courage. Yesterday, I had a bath without intending it, 
 when we sailed, and I found it not so pleasant to carry my 
 wet clothes home, especially as I had my habit on ; my Leg- 
 horn was really sopped, as your brother expresses it. But 
 nothing seems to trouble me here, for with idleness comes 
 this extravagant indifference I suppose. I wish to write a 
 few lines to your sisters on part of your brother's letter to 
 them, and so must conclude this. I fear I have written you 
 but a dull letter, but you must make allowance, only 
 
 believing me your affectionate sister, 
 
 Jane Hood. 
 
 Your brother sends his love to you ; his intentions are good 
 as to sending you a letter while here, but he is not settled 
 enough he says ; and is very diflBcult at taking to his pen 
 now. 
 
 * Subsequently Head Master of Christ's Hospital
 
 32 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Of late years my mother's time and thoughts were entirely 
 devoted to him, and he became restless and almost seemed 
 unable to write unless she were near. 
 
 The first few years of his married life were the most 
 unclouded my father ever knew. The young couple resided 
 for some years in Robert Street, Adelphi. Here was born 
 their first child, which to their great grief scarcely survived its 
 birth. In looking over some old papers I found a few tiny 
 curls of golden hair, as soft as the finest silk, wrapped in a 
 yellow and time-worn paper inscribed in my father's hand- 
 writing : — 
 
 " Little eyes that scarce did see, 
 
 Little lips that never smiled ; 
 
 Alas ! my little dear dead child, 
 Deatli is thy father, and not me, 
 I but embraced thee, soon as he ! " 
 
 On this occasion those exquisite lines of Charles Lamb's 
 *' On an infant dying as soon as born," were written and sent 
 to my father and mother. 
 
 I much regret that there is so little record left of the 
 pleasant days of this intimacy with Charles Lamb and his 
 sister. It was a very lively and sincere friendship on both 
 sides, and it lasted up to the time of Mr. Lamb's death. 
 When my father lived at Winchmore, the Lambs were settled 
 at Enfield, so that they were tolerably near neighbours. I 
 give, however, a brief extract from a book entitled " Pen and 
 Pencil,'' by Mrs. Balraanno. Tlie article is headed, " Lamb 
 and Hood," and is quoted almost in extenso, as the volume 
 being published in New York, may not be easy of access : — 
 
 Bound in the closest ties of friendship with " The Hoods,'' 
 with whom we also were in the habit of continually asso- 
 ciating, we had the pleasure of meeting Charles Lamb at
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 33 
 
 their liouse one evening, together with his sister and 
 several other friends, amongst whom was Miss Kellj, that 
 most natural and unrivalled of English comic actresses. 
 
 In outward appearance Hood conveyed the idea of a 
 clergj'man. His figure slight, and invariably dressed in 
 black ; his face pallid ; the complexion delicate, and features 
 regular : his countenance bespeaking sympathy by its sweet 
 expression of melancholy and suffering. 
 
 Lamb was altogether of a different mould and aspect. 
 Of middle height, with brown and rather ruddy complexion, 
 grey eyes expressive of sense and shrewdness, but neither 
 large nor brilliant ; his head and features well shaped, and 
 the general expression of his countenance quiet, kind, and 
 observant, iindergoing rapid changes in conversation, as did 
 his manner, variable as an April day, particularly to his 
 sister, whose saint-like good-humour and patience were as 
 remarkable as his strange and whimsical modes of trying 
 them. 
 
 But the brother and sister perfectly understood each 
 otliei', and " Charles " as she always called him, would not 
 have been the " Charles " of her loving heart without the 
 pranks and oddities which he was continually playing off 
 upon her, and which were only outnumbered by the in- 
 stances of affection, and evidences of ever watchful solici- 
 tude with which he surrounded her. 
 
 Miss Lamb, although many years older than her brother, 
 by no means looked so, but presented the pleasant aj^pear- 
 ance of a mild, rather stout, and comely maiden lady of 
 middle age. 
 
 Dressed with quaker-like simplicity in dove-coloui'ed silk, 
 
 witli a transparent kerchief of snow-white muslin folded 
 
 across her bosom, she at once prepossessed the beholder in 
 
 her favour by an aspect of serenity and peace. Her manners 
 Vol. X. 3
 
 34 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 were very quiet and gentle, and her voice low. She smiled 
 frequenth', and seldom laughed, partaking of the conrtesies 
 and hospitalities of her merry host and hostess with all 
 the cheerfulness and grace of a most mild and kindly 
 nature. 
 
 Her behaviour to her brother was like that of an admiring 
 disciple ; her eyes seldom absent from his face. And when 
 apparently engrossed in conversation with others, she would, 
 by supplying some word for which he was at a loss, even 
 when talking in a distant part of the room, show how 
 closely her mind waited upon his. 
 
 Mr. Lamb was in high spirits, sauntering about the room, 
 with his hands ci'ossed behind his back, conversing by fits 
 and starts with those most familiarly known to him, but 
 evidently mentally acknowledging Miss Kelly to be the 
 rara avis of his thoughts, by the great attention he paid to 
 every word she uttered. 
 
 Truly pleasant it must have been to her, even though 
 accustomed to see people listen breathless with admiration 
 while she spoke, to find her words have so much charm for 
 £uch a man as Charles Lamb. 
 
 Miss Kelly (charming, natural Miss Kelly, who has drawn 
 from her audiences more heart-felt tears and smiles than 
 ■perhaps any other English actress) with quiet good-humour 
 listened and laughed at the witty sallies of her host and 
 his gifted friend, seeming as little an actress as it is pos- 
 sible to conceive. 
 
 Once, however, when some allusion was made to a comic 
 scene in a new play then just brought out, wherein she 
 had performed to the life the character of a low-bred lady's 
 maid, passing herself off as her mistress, Miss Kelly arose 
 and with a kind of resistless ardour, repeated a few sentences 
 so inimitably, that everybody laughed as much as if the
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 35 
 
 real lady's maid, and not the actress, had been before them ; 
 while she who had so personated the part, quietly resumed 
 her seat without the least sign of merriment, as grave as 
 possible. 
 
 This little scene for a few moments charmed everybody 
 out of themselves, and gave a new impetus to conver- 
 sation. Mrs. Hood's eyes sparkled with joy, as she saw 
 the effect it had produced upon her husband, whose pale 
 face, like an illuminated coniic mask, shone with fun 
 and humour. Never was happier couple tlian " The 
 Hood's;"* "mutual reliance and fond faith" seemed to be 
 their motto. 
 
 Mrs. Hood was a most amiable woman — of excellent 
 manners, and full of sincerity and goodness. She perfectly 
 adored her husband, tending him like a child, whilst he with 
 unbounded affection seemed to delight to yield himself to 
 her guidance. Nevertheless, true to his humorous nature, 
 he loved to tease her with jokes and whimsical accusations, 
 which were only responded to by " Hood, Hood, how can 
 you run on so 1 " " Perhaps you don't know," said lie, 
 "that Jane's besetting weakness is a desire to appear in 
 print, and be thought a Blue." 
 
 Mrs. Hood coloured, and gave her usual reply ; then 
 observed laughingly : " Hood does not know one kind of 
 material from another, he thinks this dress is a blue print." 
 On looking at it I saw it was only a very pretty blue silk. 
 The evening was concluded by a supper, one of those elegant 
 social repasts which Flemish artists delight to paint ; so 
 fresh the fruit, so tempting the viands, and all so exquisitely 
 arranged by the very hand of taste, Mrs. Hood has fre- 
 
 * Lamb's letter, subsequently quoted, is addressed to "The Hoods, 
 Robert Street, Adelphi. "
 
 86 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 quently smiled when I have comphmented her on setting 
 out "picture suppers," — this was truly one. 
 
 Mr. Lamb oddly walked round the table, looking closely 
 at any dish that struck his fancy before he would decide 
 where to sit, telling Mrs. Hood that he should by that 
 means know how to select some dish that was difficult to 
 carve, and take the trouble off her hands ; accordingly, 
 having jested in this manner, he placed himself with great 
 deliberation before a lobster-salad, observing that was the 
 thing. 
 
 Mr. Hood, with inexpressible gravity in the upper part 
 of his face, and his mouth twitching with smiles, sang his 
 own comic song of " If you go to France be sure yovi learn 
 the lingo ; " his pensive manner and feeble voice making it 
 doubly ludicrous. 
 
 Mr. Lamb, on being pressed to sing, excused himself in 
 his own peculiar manner, but offered to pronounce a Latin 
 eulogium instead. 
 
 This was accepted, and he accordingly stammered forth 
 a long string of Latin words ; among which, as the name of 
 Mrs. Hood frequently occurred, we ladies thought it in praise 
 of her. 
 
 Tlie delivery of this speech occupied about five minutes. 
 On inquiring of a gentleman who sat next me whether 
 Mr. Lamb was praising Mrs. Hood, he informed me 
 that was by no means the case, the eulogium being on 
 the lobster-salad ! Thus, in the gayest of moods, pro- 
 gressed and concluded a truly merry little social supper, 
 wortliy in all respects of the author of "Whims and 
 Oddities." 
 
 Then comes the following letter from Lamb to Hood.* 
 
 * The letter was addressed outside to "The Hoods," etc. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. «7 
 
 Tuesday, 18th September, 1827. 
 
 Dear Hood, 
 
 If I have anything in my head I will send it to Mr. 
 Watts. Strictly speaking, he should have all my album 
 verses, but a very intimate friend importuned me for the 
 trifles, and I believe I forgot Mr. Watts, or lost sight at 
 the same time of his similar souvenir. Jamieson conveyed 
 the farce from me to Mrs. C. Kemble ; he will not be in 
 town before the 27 th. 
 
 Give our kind loves to all at Highgate, and tell them that 
 we have finally torn ourselves outright away from Cole- 
 brook, where I had «o health, and are about to domiciliate 
 for good at Enfield, where I have experienced good. 
 
 " Lord, wtat good hours do we keep ! 
 How quietly we sleep ! " 
 
 See the rest in the " Complete Angler." 
 
 We have got our books into our new house. I am a dray 
 horse if I was not ashamed of the indigested dirty lumber, 
 as I toppled 'em out of the cart, and blest Becky that came 
 with 'em, for her having an imstufFed brain with such 
 rubbish. We shall get in by Michael's mass. 'Twas with 
 some pain that we were evulsed from Colebrook. 
 
 You may find some of our flesh sticking to the door-posts. 
 To change habitations is to die to them ; and in my time 
 I have died seven deaths. But I don't know whether every 
 such change does not bring with it a rejuvenescence. 'Tis 
 an enterprise, and shoves back the sense of death's approxi- 
 mating, which, though not terrible to me, is at all times 
 particularly distasteful. My house-deaths have generally 
 been periodical, recurring after seven yeai-s, but this last is 
 premature by half that time. Cut off" is the flower of Cole-
 
 38 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 brook ! The Middletonian stx-eam and all its echoes mourn. 
 Even minnows dwindle. A parvis fiunt minimi. 
 
 I fear to invite Mrs. Hood to our new mansion, lest 
 she should envy it and hate us. But when we are fairly 
 in, I hope she will come and try it. I heard she and you 
 were made uncomfoi'table by some unworthy to be cared 
 for attacks, and have tried to set up a feeble counteraction 
 through the '' Table Book " of last Saturday. Has it 
 not reached you, that you are silent about if? Our new 
 domicile is no manor-house, but new ; and externally 
 not inviting, but furnished within with every convenience. 
 Capital new locks to every door, capital grates in every 
 room, with nothing to pay for incoming, and the rent £10 
 less than the Islington one. It was built a few years since 
 for £.500 expense they tell me, and I perfectly believe it, and 
 I get it for £35 exclusive of moderate taxes. It is not our 
 intention to abandon Regent Street and West End perambu- 
 lations (monastic and terrible thought ! ) but occasionally to 
 breathe the fresher air of the metropolis. We shall put up 
 a bedi'oom or two (all we want) for occasional ex-rustication, 
 where we shall visit, not be visited. Plays, too, will we see, 
 perhaps our own. Urban Sylvani, and Sylvanus Urbanuses in 
 turns. Courtiers for a sport, then philosophers, old homely 
 tell-truths, and learn-truths in the virtuous shades of Enfield. 
 Liars again, and mocking gibers in the coffee-houses and 
 resorts of London. And can a mortal desire more for his 
 biparted nature ? 
 
 " 0, the curds and cream you shall eat with us here ! 
 0, the tm-tle-soup and lobster-salads we shall devour with you there, 
 0, the old books we shall peruse here ! 
 0, the new nonsense we shall trifle over there ! 
 0, Sir T. Browne ! here ! 
 0, Mr. Hood, and Mr. Jerdan there ! 
 Thine, C. (Urbanus) L. (Sylvanus) (Elia Ambo)."
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 39 
 
 My father's " Literary Reminiscences," in " Hood's Own," 
 are almost the sole memorials left of his acquaintance with all 
 those, who form such a brilliant list in Mr. Hessey's letter,* 
 But few now survive, nor are there any written memoranda 
 upon which to found any chronicle of that period : living so 
 near, and being on such intimate terms with many of them, 
 was almost sufficient reason that but few letters remain to 
 throw any light on the subject. Had they lived in the time 
 of the penny post, there would probably have been a goodly 
 collection of " notelets " or *' chits," but in those davs of 
 heavy postage, a letter was a more serious undertaking. 
 
 In 1826 appeared the first series of "Whims and Oddi- 
 ties," which had a very good sale. 
 
 This first series took so well with the public, that a second 
 edition followed, — and some time afterwards, in 18:^7, a 
 second series appeared, dedicated to Sir Walter Scott. This 
 was followed by two volumes of " National Tales," a series of 
 
 * One of them— Wainwright— in the 7th vol. of " The London " (1823) 
 criticises my father's bent and style with such an accurate perception of 
 them, as to forestal all later critics. My father wrote occasionally under 
 the name of Theodore M . 
 
 "Young Thkodore ! young in years, not in power   Our new Ovid ! — 
 only more imaginative ! — Painter to the visible eje — and the inward ;— 
 commixture of what the superficial deem, incongruous elements ! — Instruc- 
 tive living proof how close lie the founts of laughter and tears ! Thou 
 fermenting brain — oppressed, as yet, by its own riches. Though melancholy 
 would seem to have touched thy heart with her painful (salutary) hand, 
 yet is thy fancy mercurial — undepressed ; — and sparkles and crackles more 
 from the contact — as the northern lights when they near the frozen pole. 
 How! is the fit not on ? Still is 'Lycus' without mate ! — "Who can mate 
 him but thyself ? Let not the shallow induce thee to conceal this thy depth. 
 * * * * As for thy word gambols, thy humour, thy fantastics, thy 
 curiously-conceited perceptions of similarity, in dissimilarity, of coherents in 
 incoherents, they are brilliantly suave, innocuously exhilarating ; — but not 
 a step farther if thou lovest thy proper peace ! Read the fine of the eleventh, 
 and the whole of the twelfth chapter of ' Tristram Shandy ; ' and believo 
 them, dear Theodore ! "
 
 40 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 stories, or rather novelettes, somewhat in the manner of 
 Boccaccio. These are now utterly out of print : they were 
 published by Mr. W. H. Ainsworth, then living in Bond 
 Street. 
 
 The "Plea of the Midsummer Fairies,'' a very favourite 
 poem of his, appeared in 1827, but it did not exactly suit 
 the public taste, and many copies remained unsold on 
 the publisher's shelf. My father afterwards bought up the 
 remainder of the edition, as he said himself to save it from 
 the butter shops. 
 
 In the winter of 1827-28, my father had a very severe 
 attack of rheumatic fever, and on his partial recovery he was 
 ordered to Brighton to recruit his strength. Sea air always 
 produced a beneficial effect on his health ; and for many years 
 he was in the habit of visiting Brighton, or his favourite 
 haunt, Hastings, for a few weeks. 
 
 At the time I mention he was so weak as to be obliged to 
 be lifted into the coach at starting, but the next day 
 refreshed by the first breath of the bracing air, be was 
 almost himself. At breakfast he offered to give my mother 
 a few hints on buying fish, adducing his own superior expe- 
 rience of the sea, as a reason for informing her ignorance as a 
 young housekeeper. " Above all things, Jane," said he, " as 
 they will endeavour to impose upon your inexperience, let 
 nothing induce you to buy a plaice that has any appearance 
 of red or orange spots, as they are sure signs of an advanced 
 stage of decomposition." My mother promised faithful com- 
 pliance in the innocence of her heart, and accordingly when 
 the fish woman came to the door, she descended to show off 
 her newly acquired information. As it happened, the woman 
 had very little except plaice, and these she turned over and 
 over, praising their size and freshness. But the obnoxious 
 I'ed spots on every one of them still greeted my mother's
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 41 
 
 dissatisfied eyes. On her hinting a doubt of their freshness, 
 she was met by the assertion that they were not long out of 
 the water, having been caught that morning. This shook 
 ray mother's doubts for a moment, but remembering my 
 father's porti-ayal ot the Brighton fishwomen's iniquitous 
 falsehoods, she gravely shook her head, and mildly observed, 
 in all the pride of conscious knowledge, " My good woman, it 
 may be as you say, but I could not think of buying any 
 plaice with those very unpleasant red spots ! " The woman's 
 answer was a perfect shout. " Lord bless your eyes, Mum ! 
 who ever seed any without 'em 1 " 
 
 A suppressed giggle on the stairs revealed the perpetrator 
 of the joke, and my father rushed off in a perfect ecstasy 
 of laughter, leaving my poor discomfited mother to appease 
 the angry sea-nymph as she could. This was a standing 
 joke for many years, in common with the story of the 
 pudding, which will appear hereafter. 
 
 He enjoyed playing off little harmless jokes on my mother 
 as before mentioned, who on her part bore them with the 
 sweetest temper, joining in the laugh against herself after- 
 wards with great good humour. She was a capital subject 
 for his fun, for her implicit belief and faith in him never 
 wavered, in spite of incessant tricks and continual assail- 
 ments. She vowed seriously each time she discovered the 
 deception, not to be deluded again, and seriously walked 
 into the next trap ! In his eyes her innocent face of wonder 
 and amaze added greatly to the zest of the joke. Mrs. 
 Balmanno says on this subject: — "Sometimes, perhaps, 
 the jest was pointed a little too heavily, but never did the 
 sweet face or gentle voice of Mrs. Hood betray anything 
 like cloud or exasperation even when put to tests that 
 would have proved eminently trying to the female patience 
 of many modern Griseldas 1 ''
 
 42 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 My father's attachment to the sea, as I remarked before, 
 was very great, and he seized eveiy opportunity of getting 
 
 within reach of it.* He was much amused when one of 
 his contemporaries, in a little sketch of his life, gravely 
 asserted that he was destined for the sea, but would not 
 cany out the intention, owing to his dislike of the great 
 ocean. The only ground he could imagine there was for 
 this assertion was, that in one of the comics he wrote a 
 sort of burlesque account of first going to sea, with all 
 its attendant horroi's, to a landsman, of storm and sickness. 
 But this I need hardly say was under a fictitious charactei', 
 and quite the reverse of his own opinions. Although his 
 life had twice been in danger owing to it, yet his love and 
 relish for the sea and all belonging to it partook almost of 
 yearning affection, which he has so beautifully expressed 
 in a sonnet published in the last collection of poems, com- 
 
 mencmg- 
 
 ' Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love ? " 
 
 * This exit was one of several sketches drawn by my father to teach his 
 wile the names, &c. , of the different craft at Hastings — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 43 
 
 The allusion here is to the fearful storm he encountered 
 in after years, when crossing to Rotterdam. But his first 
 peril was of a different kind, as I remember hearing the 
 story from his own lips. It occurred before his marriage, 
 but in what year I cannot ascertain. He was in the habit 
 of going frequently to Hastings, and there he enjoyed 
 boating to his heart's content, accompanied by his favourite 
 old boatman Tom Woodgate, whom he commemoi-ated in 
 a sea-side sketch. At this particular time my father had 
 just recovered from a severe illness, and after a few days' 
 stay at Hastings, he fancied a bathe in the open sea would 
 do him good. He had often bathed so before ; and being 
 a good swimmer he used to go out in the boat some way 
 from shore, and then undress and plunge in. This he 
 accordingly did, being still weak, and when he came up 
 from his first plunge he found himself under the boat. 
 Knowing the full extent of his danger, he exerted all his 
 remaining strength and dived again, when he succeeded in 
 coming up at some distance from the boat. He said he saw 
 water, " like a bubble" getting lighter above him ; he could 
 only compare it to the often described feelings of persons 
 rescued from di'owning, when the events of all their past 
 life seem to flash before them in a moment. He was so 
 uttei'ly exhausted when he came up that he could scarcely 
 support himself till the boat reached him. The boatman 
 told him afterwards he was dreadfully frightened, for al- 
 though the whole occurrence took place in perhaps less 
 time than it takes to describe it, the interval was quite 
 long enough for his experience to tell him that something 
 was wrong. Great was his relief to see my father come up 
 at a little distance, and lustily did he pull to his help. 
 He owned that he was speculating how he was ever to go 
 back to Hastings wnth the clothes and watch, as few would
 
 n MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 have believed his stoiy. Fortunately this tragical end wa? 
 averted, but it was a warning to my father ever after. He 
 perfectly understood the management of a boat, and would 
 often take the helm, but he never attempted bathing in the 
 open sea again. 
 
 During one of his visits to Brighton my father made 
 acquaintance with an old lieutenant in the Coast Guard, 
 a great oddity, who used to drop in of an evening for a 
 quiet rubber. From him my father learned a curious song ; 
 about the only one he was ever known to sing, and quaint 
 and characteristic enough it was. I give all the verses I 
 have been able to recover. 
 
 " Up jumped the mackerel, 
 
 With his striped back, — 
 Says he ' Reef in the mains'!, and haul on the tack, 
 
 For it's windy weather, 
 
 It's stormy weather, 
 And when the wind blows pipe all hands together — 
 For, upon my word, it is windy weather ! 
 
 " Up jumped the cod, 
 With his chuckle head, — 
 And jumped to the mainbrace to heave at the lead, 
 For it's windy weather, etc. 
 
 " Up jumped the flounder, 
 That swims by the ground, — 
 Crying, 'damme, old chucklehead mind how you sound,* 
 For it's windy weather, etc." 
 
 The verses, almost as numerous as the fishes in the sea, 
 wound up with the following, 
 
 " Up leapt the whale, 
 The biggest of all, — 
 Crying out, ' maintop -gallant sheet why don't you haul ? ' 
 For it's windy weather, etc. "
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 46 
 
 Now my father, curiously enough, with the most delicate 
 perception of the rhythm and melody of versifying, and 
 the most acute instinct for any jarring syllable or word, and 
 peculiarly happy in the musical cadence of his own poetry, 
 had yet not the slightest ear for music. He could not sing 
 a tune thi'ough correctly, and was rather amused by the 
 defect than otherwise, especially when a phrenologist once 
 told him his organs of time and tune were very deficient.* 
 My father used to say on the very rare occasions on which 
 he was ever known to sing, that he chose this particular 
 sons: because when he was out of tune no one could 
 detect him, especially as he made a point of refusing all 
 encores ! 
 
 During his residence at Brighton on this occasion, the 
 following two letters were written to Mr. Balmanno, and 
 the third to Sir Thomas Lawrence. These are quoted from 
 Mrs. Balmanno's book, " Pen and Pencil," named before. 
 
 25, King's Road, Brighton, 
 
 March 2\st, 1828. 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 We got down here safe, but heartily tired — I think 
 Jane the most fatigued of the two — and took up our 
 quarters for the night at the Norfolk. The next morning, 
 to my own astonishment and my wife's, I got out and 
 walked about a mile on the shingles, pai'tly against a 
 
 * Several people observed this in Mm, and one, who was just safe-landed 
 fi-om a rhapsody on music, in which he had indulged before my father, 
 who didn't sjinpathise, said — "Ah, you know, you 've no musical enthu 
 siasm — you don't know what it is ! " It was a dangerous thing to snul 
 my father, for he generally gave as good as he took. In this instance he 
 said — "Oh, yes, I do know it — it's like turtle soup — for eveiy pint of 
 real, you meet with gallons of mock, with calves' heads in proportion ! " — 
 T. H.
 
 46 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 strong wind which now and then had the best of me. 
 Here we are now settled in a nice Hvely lodging — the sea 
 frothing about twenty yards in front, and our side window 
 looking down the road westward, and along the beach, 
 where at about 100 yards lies the wreck of a poor sloop, 
 that came ashore the night we arrived — nobody lost. She 
 looks somewhat like the "atomies" in Surgeons' Hall, with 
 her bare ribs and backbones, and the waves come and spit 
 at her with incurable spite. We have had one warm 
 beautiful day quite like summer, with flies (the hack flies,) 
 all about too ; but to-day is cold — squally with rain. The 
 effect of the sea upon me is almost incredible. I have 
 found some strength and much appetite already, though 
 I have but sniffed the brine a single time. The warm bath 
 has removed all my stiffness— an effect 1 anticipated from 
 something that occurred in the coach. The approach to 
 the coast, even at half way, had such an effect on the claret 
 jelly* that it took away all its stiffness, and let it loose in 
 Mrs. Hood's bag. The "regal purple stream" has caused 
 some odd results. Made my watch a stop watch by gum- 
 ming up the works, glued Jane's pocket-book together ; and 
 fuddled a letter to Dr. Yates in such a style that I am 
 ashamed to deliver it. Pray don't let Mrs. Balmanno take 
 any reproach to herself for the misconduct of her jelly; I 
 Bu.spect it was so glad to set off" it did not know whether it 
 stood 0)1 its head or its heels. I rather think it was placed 
 for safety bottom upwards ; I forgot to say that the jelly 
 got into Jane's purse and made all the money stick to it, an 
 effect I shan't object to, if it prove permanent. Jane is 
 delighted .with Brighton, and wishes we could live there, 
 regretting almost that I am not a boatman instead of an 
 
 * A present from Mrs. Balmanno.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. .47 
 
 author. Perhaps when my pen breaks down I may retire 
 here and set up a circulating hbrary, like Horace Smith ; * 
 I shall deliver your credentials to that gentleman to- 
 morrow. 
 
 So far w^as written yesterday. 1 got up to-day, ate a 
 monstrous breakfast and took a walk, but could not fetch 
 up Horace Smith's, for I set out along the beach, which 
 being sldngle the fatigue was double. As yet I don't think 
 I have any ankles. I don't bore myself yet with writing 
 (don't tell Yates this !), but amuse myself with watching the 
 waves, or a seagull, or the jjrogress of a fishing boat — matters 
 trifling enough, but they afford speculation seemingly to a 
 score old smocked, glazed hatted, blue breeched boatmen 
 or fishermen before my windows, and why not to me ? 
 There is great pleasure in letting a busy restless mind lie 
 fallow a little, and mine takes to its idleness very com- 
 ]ilacently, Jane murmurs and wants books, (scandal !) lier 
 mind is so used to be idle it requires a change. She takes 
 to her victuals as well as I do, and has such a colour, par- 
 ticularly on her chin ! Here is a look out of our window,t 
 rao-ing main and all, — Jane made me draw it in my 
 best style for your satisfaction. I leave to her the flaps to 
 write upon, and subscribe myself with very best regards to 
 Mrs. Balmanno and yourself, my dear friend, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Brighton, 
 2Uh March, 1828. 
 
 Many thanks, my dear Balmanno, for your very 
 welcome letter — a treat even when letters are numerous, for 
 
 * This alludes to Mr. Smith's numerous publications. 
 + Here, in the original, is a drawing of a large French window openiag 
 on a balcony, with a view of the sea.
 
 48 MEMORIALS OF THOMA.S HOOD. 
 
 almost every house has a hill on the window. Along with 
 yours came a lot of others, like an Archangel mail just 
 thawed, and they served very much to relish my breakfast. 
 " Literary Gazette,'' too, was a godsend, particularly as we 
 afterwards exchanged it, or the reading of it, for the perusal 
 of the "Times," with our fellow-lodger. I had among 
 the rest an epistle from W. Cooke, and one from Acker- 
 man recommending me to try Mahomet's vapour-baths 
 here — that C. C certainly put him up to it. But I trust 
 I know better than to trust my carcase to the infidel. I 
 might get into his hot well and come out a muscle man ? 
 The hot brine of the Artillery Baths (so called, I suppose, 
 because they heat water for Perkins and his steam-guns) has 
 done more good for me ; taken the stiffness out of my limbs, 
 but my ankles still suffer from a very strong weakness. 
 Thank God, I have found out that I have a stomach ; from 
 the former state of my appetite, I seem now to have three, 
 like a camel ; and when the loaf comes up I take off a very 
 large impression. For example, I have eaten to-day for 
 dinner, a turbot, a tart, and a tough old fowl, that nothing 
 but a coast appetite woiild venture on. But on the beach 
 you may munch anything, even an old superannuated fisher- 
 man. I called on Horace Smith yesterday, but he was out ; 
 to-day I have had better luck, though he was out still, for 
 we met at his door, and I gave him your letter on the steps. 
 I was delighted with him and with her. He was all that 
 is kind and gentlemanly, and I shall break through my 
 resolution and take a family dinner with them, though I had 
 vowed to accept no such invitations. I hope that he and I 
 ai*e to be quite thick ere I leave, if such a stick as I may be 
 thick with anyone. Mrs. Smith is an invalid on the sofa, 
 and she and I regard each other, I believe, with fellow in- 
 terest on tha^ account ; I was taken with her very much.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 49 
 
 and with the little girl too, who seems destined to make 
 hearts ache hereafter. She has all the blossom of a beauty 
 about her. There were some grown-up Misses making a 
 call, so that we had not our visit all to ourselves, but Smith 
 and I contrived to gossip ; he calls here to-morrow. I 
 should have liked to make one at G.'s. Your account of it 
 is very amusing. Your meeting with Reynolds pleases me 
 much, and your liking of him, which I find is reciprocated ou 
 his part. I trust you will sometimes meet in Robert Street, 
 if there still be such a place. We are to be up at the G. 
 Square party, or rather I am to be up to everything on 
 Thursday, and we shall meet in the evening of that day. 
 Don't you think a crowded assembly may have the effect of 
 a hot air bath ? But the real thing is Brighton. C. C. did 
 not give it a fair trial, he was only sham-shampooed, and 
 dived not into the bath, but the bathos. The fact is he 
 mistakes his complaint ; he keeps his room and calls it 
 roomatism ; no man who pretends to such an afiiictiou 
 should lay claim to " Fairy Leg-ends." I am much amused 
 with a squad of mer-men before the window ; I observe they 
 never walk more than eight paces on end — and then " bock 
 agin," all things by turns, and nothing long. They seem 
 like old duellists, so accustomed to that measure of ground 
 that they can't help it. To-day has been beautifully fine ; 
 sunshine and a fresh breeze ; luckily all the winds have been 
 from south and west — great points in my favour, and quite 
 " equal to bespoke." I watch over the expanses, and gaze 
 over the expenses, so that I am more careless than cureless, 
 and enjoy myself as though there were no Jilts in being. 1 
 hear the waves constantly like " woodpeckers tapping " the 
 hollow beach, Jane says there is somethinsr solemn and 
 religious in its music, and to be sure, the sea is the Psalter 
 element. Besides my warm baths, in hobbling along the 
 
 VOL. X. 4
 
 50 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 beach, a great surge gave me an extempore /oam-entation of 
 
 the feet and ankles, so that I have tried a cold bath also. 
 
 But we have not had any Elizabethan sea, that is in the ruff 
 
 state, though we have violently desired to see a storm, and a 
 
 wreck, a pleasui'e admirably described by Lucretius — 
 
 " 'Tis sweet to staud by good dry land sun-ounded, 
 And see a dozen of poor seameij drownded ! " 
 
 In the meanwhile Jane has picked up three oystershells and 
 a drowned nettle as marine curiosities, also a jelly fish, but 
 she fears it will melt in her bag, and spoil more watches. 
 She enjoys everything akin to the sea, even our old moreen 
 curtains, and swears that Ossian's poems are nothing to 
 Ocean's. She is only astonished to find shee-p in the Downs 
 instead of ships. With great labour I have taught her to 
 know a sloop from a fr'gate, but she still calls masts masks ! 
 Pi-ay tell Mrs. B. that Mrs. H. will write to her to-morrow, 
 if the tide comes in — it is at present low water with her 
 ideas. The fact is she gets fat and idle, but she always was 
 idol-izedi. The "Fairy Legends," she has perused, borrowed of 
 Moxon, but pray don't send her any books here, as it will be 
 mere kindness thrown away. I have offered to get her 
 *' Whims and Oddities" at the library here, but she says she 
 wishes for something lighter and newer. She has over-fed 
 herself like the bullfinch, and I am persuaded can't read. 
 Pray give my kind regards to Mrs. Balmanno, with my best 
 thanks for all her good wishes, though she may sufier by 
 the fulfilment, as I am regaining my impertinence. The 
 tide is coming in, and the post going out, so I must shorten 
 sail. It is lucky for you we stay but a week, or you would 
 find our post quite an impost. Thanks for the /ran^niess of 
 yours ; we don't hold them cheaply notwithstanding. 
 I am, my dear Balmanno, yours very sincerely, 
 
 Thomas Hood.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 61 
 
 Brighton, November IQth, 1823. 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 There axe some sketches of Brighton (in Cooke's 
 copper), and I have undertaken to scribble some notes on the 
 margin of the sea. To this end I am enjoying the breezes 
 which I inh-a^e hke a sea-siJer, looking over a prospect that 
 in its calm, reminds me of a sea peace by Vandervelde, and 
 in its shingles of Beechy. It is now like royal Bessie in 
 its rough; and the wiad, that great raiser of waves, is 
 accompanied by a suitable lather on Neptune's face. It is 
 besides high water, or more properly high waiter, for the tide 
 serves at the Bar, and there is a great influx of the weeds 
 that grow in " the Garden of the Gull," i. e., Sea Gull. Afar 
 off, a lonely vessel is tumbling about, and observe there the 
 goodness of Providence, that the rougher the storm, the 
 better the vessel is pitched, while here and there in the fore- 
 ground may be seen w^hat Molicre with his French inversion 
 would call a tar-tough. The skeleton of a lost brig, like the 
 bones of a sea monster, hes at the extreme left. I am told, 
 by the Brighton people, that ship disasters are not un- 
 common here ; they have often had Georgius Rex. You will 
 understand, my dear sir, from this sample, that my guide 
 will be unserious chiefly ; but I contemplate a graver de- 
 scription of the Pavilion, provided I can gain entrance to 
 the interior, which I understand is more difficult than afore- 
 times. In a conversation with Mr. Balmanno, it occurred to 
 me, however, that you could put me in the way, for I do not 
 even know the proper quarter to apply to amongst the 
 Chain Piers, but, of course, not Captain Brown's. I have 
 spent some time in making up my mind to trouble you on 
 this subject or head, considering how many better ones 
 engage you. But pray frame some excuse for my freedom.
 
 62 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 which originates in my reliance on your kindly feeling to- 
 wards me. I have no doubt but that you can at any rate 
 direct me how to get access, and even that will accessively 
 oblige, my dear sir, 
 
 Yours very respectfully, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence, P.R.A., &c., &c., &c. 
 
 " Eugene Aram's Dream " first appeared in an Annual 
 called the " Gem " * of which in the year 1829 my father was 
 editor ; it was afterwards republished in a separate form, with 
 drawings by W. Harvey, an old and intimate friend of his. 
 
 In 1829 he left London for Winchmore Hill, where he 
 took a very pretty cottage situated in a pleasant garden. He 
 was very much attached to it, and many years afterwards I 
 have known him point out some fancied resemblance in other 
 places, and say to my mother, " Jenny, that's very like Winch- 
 more ! " It is a pretty neighbourhood, even now when the 
 great metropolis has encroached far on the " Green Lanes " 
 — in those days it was voted quite in the country. 
 
 An amusing incident took place during their removal from 
 town. A large hamper of china and glass had arrived from 
 town by the carrier one morning, and the contents being un- 
 packed were placed, pro tempore, on a dresser in the china 
 closet. This wooden shelf had been only newly mortared 
 into the wall, and when all this weight was put on it, of 
 course it came down with an alarming crash ! My father, 
 who was within hearing, soon came to the scene of action, or 
 rather fraction, and after coolly siurveying the damage, very 
 quietly sent the maid to her mistress with the message that 
 
 * It was chiefly illustrated by the late Abraham Cooper, and had there- 
 fore rather more than its share of horses and dogs.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 53 
 
 " the china which came up in the morning, had come doion in 
 the evening ! " This, to his great amusement, brought my 
 mother, in a state of utter mystification, to the scene of the 
 catastrophe. They were, however, both very cheerful people, 
 and the breakage (no light one), was borne with tolerable 
 philosophy on both sides. 
 
 At Winchmore Hill, my father must have resided about 
 three years, and here, in 1830, 1 was born. In the Christmas of 
 the same year, the first " Comic Annual " appeared, dedicated 
 to Sir Francis Freeling. A copy of this first volume was, I 
 believe, sent to the late Duke of Devonshire, and this I 
 imagine was my father's first introduction to him, as I find 
 his Grace's letter of thanks for it, dated February 8th, 
 1831. 
 
 London. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Accept my best thanks for the beautiful copies of 
 the " Comic Annual," which I have hsd the pleasure of re- 
 ceiving from you ; yon could not have selected a person whT 
 has enjoyed more the perusal of your works. 
 
 I am almost afraid of making the following request, 
 but perhaps it may be as amusing as it must be easy 
 to you to comply with it, in which case alone I beg you 
 to do it. 
 
 It is necessary to construct a door of sham books, for the 
 entrance of a library staircase at Chatsworth : your assist- 
 ance in giving me inscriptions for these unreal folios, quartos, 
 and 12mos, is what I now ask. 
 
 One is tired of the " Plain Dealings," " Essays on Wood," 
 and "Pei-petual Motion" on such doors, — on one I have 
 seen the names of " Don Quixote's Library," and on others 
 impossibilities, such as " Virgilii Odaria," — " Herodoti Poe- 
 mata," — "Byron's Sermons," — &c., ttc. ; but from you I
 
 54 MEMOEIALS OF TUOMAS HOOD. 
 
 venture to hope for more attractive titles — at your perfect 
 leisure and convenience. I have the honour to be, Sir, with 
 many excuses, 
 
 Your sincere humble servant, 
 
 Devonshire. 
 
 In accordance with this request my father, in April, sent 
 the following list of titles : — 
 
 TITLES FOR THE LIBRARY DOOR, CHATSWORTH. 
 
 On the Lung Arno in Consuinption. By D. Cline. 
 Dante's Inferno, or Desci-iption of Van Demon's Land. 
 The Racing Calendar, with the Eclipses for 1831. 
 Te Devill on Two Styx (Black letter). 2 Vols. 
 On Cutting off Heirs with a Shilling. By Barber Beaumont. 
 Percy Vere. In 40 volumes. 
 
 Galerie des Grands Tableaux par les Petits Maitres. 
 On the Affinity of the Death Watch and Sheep Tick. 
 Lamb's Recollections of Suett. 
 Lamb on the Death of "Wolfe. 
 The iTbptician. By Lord Famham. 
 Tadpoles ; or Tales out of my own Head. 
 On the Connection of the River Oder and the River Wezel. 
 Malthas' Attack of Infantry. 
 McAdam's Views in Rhodes. 
 Spenser, with Chaucer's Tales. 
 
 Autographia ; or Man's Nature, known by his Sig-nature. 
 Manfredi. Translated by Defoe. 
 Earl Grey on Early Rising. 
 
 Plurality of Livings, with Regard to the Common Cat. 
 The Life of Zimmermann. By Himself. 
 
 On the Quadrature of the Circle ; or Squaring in the Ring. By J. 
 Mendoza. 
 
 Gall's Sculler's Fares. 
 
 Bish's Retreat of the Ten Thousand. 
 
 Dibdin's Cream of Tar — . 
 
 Comaro on Longevity and the Construction of 74*s. 
 
 Pompeii ; or Memoirs of a Black Footman. By Sir W. GelL
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 55 
 
 Pygmalion. By Lord Bacon. 
 Macintosh, Macculloch, and Macaulay on Almacks. 
 On Trial by Jury, with remarkable Packing Cases. 
 On the Distinction between Lawgivers and Law-sellers. By Lord 
 Brougham. 
 
 Memoirs of Mrs. Mountain. By Ben Lomond. 
 Feu mon P^re — feu ma Mere. Par Swing. 
 
 On December the 22nd, 1832, my father sent His Grace 
 the following further instalment of titles, with the letter 
 which is printed after them : — 
 
 Boyle on Steam. 
 
 Rxiles for Punctuation. By a thorough-bred Pointer. 
 
 Blaine on Equestrian Burglary ; or the Breaking-in of Horses. 
 
 Chronological Account of the Date Tree. 
 
 Hughes Ball on Duelling. 
 
 Book-keeping by Single Entry. 
 
 John Knox on " Death's Door." 
 
 Designs for Friezes. By Captain Parry. 
 
 Remarks on the Terra Cotta or Mud Cottages of Ireland. 
 
 Considerations sur le Vrai Guy, et Le Faux. 
 
 Kosciusko on the Right of the Poles to stick up for Themselves. 
 
 Prize poems, in Blaiik verse. 
 
 On the Site of Tully's Offices. 
 
 The Rape of the Lock, with Bramai's Notes. 
 
 Haughty-cultural Remarks on London Pride. 
 
 Annual Parliaments : a Plea for Short Commons. 
 
 Michau on Ball-Practice. 
 
 On Sore Throat and the Migration of the Swallow. By T. Abemethy 
 
 Scott and Lot. By the Author of "Waverley." 
 
 Debrett on Chain Piers. 
 
 Voltaire, Volney, Volta. 3 Vols. 
 
 Peel on Bell's System. 
 
 Grose's Slang Dictionary ; or Vocabulary of Grose Language. 
 
 Freeling on Enclosing Waste Lands. 
 
 Elegy on a Black-Cock, shot amongst the Moors. By W. Wilberforce. 
 
 Johnson's Contradiction ary. 
 
 Sir T. Lawrence on the Complexion of Fairies and Brownies. 
 
 Life of Jack Ketch, with Cuts of his own Execution. 
 
 Barrow on the Common Weal.
 
 56 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Hoyle's Quadnipedia ; or Rules of All -Fours. 
 
 Campaigns of the British Arm : By one of the German Leg. 
 
 Cursory Remarks on Swearing. 
 
 On the Collar of the Garter. By Miss Bailey of Halifax. 
 
 Shelley's Conchologist. 
 
 Recollections of Bannister. By Lord Stair. 
 
 The Hole Duty of Man. By L P. Brunei. 
 
 Ude's Tables of Interest. 
 
 Chantrey on the Sculpture of the Chipaway Indiana. 
 
 The Scottish Boccaccio. By D. Cameron. 
 
 Cook's Specimens of the Sandwich Tongue. 
 
 In-i-go on Secret Entrances. 
 
 Hoyle on the Game Laws. 
 
 Memoires de La-porta. 
 
 Lake House, Dec. 22, 1832. 
 My Lord Duke, 
 
 I am extremely obliged to Your Grace for the kind and 
 early answer to my request concerning Lady Granville. With 
 my best thanks I have the honour of presenting a copy of 
 my " Anmial," and sincerely hope to have the same pleasure 
 for many years to come. 
 
 The enclosed titles were for a long time " titles extinct," 
 — being lost with other papers in my removal hither : or, as 
 Othello says, thro' " moving accidents by flood and field." 
 Some menaoranda subsequently turned up, but I feared too 
 late for use ; and besides I could not disentangle the new 
 from the old. 
 
 This has been matter of regret to me, but I have made up 
 my mind to send them to Your Grace on the chance of their 
 becoming of use, and that some secret door may yet open to 
 them, like those in the old romances. 
 I have the honour to be. 
 
 My Lord Duke, 
 Your Grace's obliged servant, 
 
 Thos. Hood.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 57 
 
 After this many communications passed between His 
 Grace and my fother. Until the time of my father's death 
 (I might add even after that time, when I think of his 
 generous subscription to the Monumental Fund) the Duke's 
 acts of considerate kindness never varied or foiled. The 
 "Comic Annual" of 1831 was dedicated to His Grace, and 
 that of 1832 to Lady Granville, by a permission hinted at in 
 the letter of Dec, 22nd. But his Grace's kindnesses were 
 not always minor ones. Assistance of great sei'vice was ren- 
 dered by him to my father in the shape of a volunteered 
 friendly loan, the benefit of which will be seen in the ensuing 
 letter : — 
 
 Lake House, August, 1833. 
 
 My Lord Duke, 
 
 It will doubtless appear to Your Grace that one 
 request brings on a second, as certainly as one Scotchman is 
 said to introduce another, when I entreat for my new novel 
 of " Tylney Hall " the same honour that was formerly con- 
 ferred on the " Comic Annual." 
 
 If a reason be sought why I desire to address a second 
 dedication to the same personage, I can only refer to the " on 
 revient toujours" principle of the French song; and no one 
 could have better cause so to try back than myself. 
 
 I hesitate to intrude with details, but I know the goodness 
 which originated one obligation will be gratified to learn that 
 the assistance referred to has been, and is, of the greatest 
 service in a temporary struggle — though arduous enough for 
 one of a profession never overburthened with wealth, from 
 Homer downwards. Indeed the Nine Muses seem all to 
 have lived in one house for cheapness. I await, hopefully 
 anxious, Your Grace's pleasure as to the new honour I solicit, 
 fully prepared, in case of acquiescence, to exclaim with
 
 68 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 the Tinker to the " Good Duke " of Burgundy, in the old 
 ballad, 
 
 " Well, I thank your good Grace, 
 And your love I embrace, 
 I was never before in so happy a case ! " 
 
 With my humble but fervent wishes for the health and 
 happiness of Your Grace, and one not so favourable to the 
 long life of the grouse, I have tlie honour to be. 
 
 My Lord Duke, 
 Your Grace's most obliged and devoted servant, 
 
 Thos, Hood. 
 
 Between 1831-2 my father had some connection with the 
 stage in the form of dramatic composition. It was probably 
 at this time he made the acquaintance of T. P. Cooke, and, I 
 think, Dibdin. 
 
 He wrote the libretto for a little English Opera, that was 
 brought out, I believe, at the Surrey. Its name is lost now, 
 although it had a good run at the time. Perhaps it may be 
 recognised by some old play-goer by the fact that its dramatis 
 personce were all bees. i*Iy father also assisted my uncle 
 Reynolds in the dramatising of Gil Bias, which, if my im- 
 pression be right, was produced at Drury Larie. One scene 
 was very cleverly managed, considering that stage-machinery 
 (which now-a-days is almost engineering) was then in its 
 infancy. It was a scene divided into two horizontally/, dis- 
 playing at once the robbers' cave, and the countiy beneath 
 which it was excavated. 
 
 It is much to be regretted that we have been unable to 
 discover any traces of an entertainment * which was written, 
 
 • Some of the Comic Melodies ■were among the songs introduced.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 69 
 
 Bome where about this time, by my father for the well-known 
 inimitable Charles Mathews the Elder, who was heard by a 
 friend most characteristically to remark, that he liked the 
 entertainment very much, and Mr. Hood too, — but that all 
 the time he wa.s reading it, Mrs. Hood would keep snufl&ng 
 the candles. This little fidgety observation very much 
 shocked my mother, and of course delighted my father. 
 
 He also wrote a pantomime for Mr. Frederick Yates, of the 
 old Adelphi Theatre, and on that occasion received the fol- 
 lowing quaint epistle, the writer being Mr. Yates's factotum, 
 and moreover machinist of all those wonderful Adelphi 
 pieces that made that tiny theatre famous, and delighted the 
 play-going public of those days. Mr. "William Godbee was 
 also, I think, the contriver and inventor of Mathews' trans- 
 formation dresses, for his entertainments, and especially 
 fiimous for manufacturing queer wigs and head-dresses for 
 him. He was a clever man but a great oddity, as the follow- 
 ing letter will show : — 
 
 Theatre Rotal, Adelphi, July 24, 1832. 
 Mr. Godbee's Respectfull Compliments to Mr. Hood, and 
 he begs leave to state that he have Received a Letter this 
 morning from Mr. Yates, who is in Glasgow, and he begs of 
 him to go Immediately to Mr. Reynolds of Golden Square, to 
 beg of him to Tntreat of Mr. Hood to Favour him'with a Coppy 
 of his Pantomime of Harlequin and Mr. Jenkins, for Mr. 
 Yates by some unfortunate circumstance have lost it, and 
 the Dresses and Scenery are of no use to him unless he had 
 the M.S. of the Pantomime. Therefore if Mr. Hood have it 
 by him, and would Send it Enclosed in a Parcel to the Stage 
 Door of the Adelphi Theatre, he would be conferring an 
 Everlasting Favour on him. Honoured Sir, if you should 
 not be so fortunate as to have it by you, Pray Ohlidge me
 
 60 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 with an answer by Post, as I dare not Send his Scenery and 
 Dresses without the M.S. to Glasgow. I trust your Goodness 
 of hert will Pardon me in thus troubling you. Permit me 
 to Remain 
 
 Your Humble Servant, 
 
 William Godbee. 
 
 P.S. Dear Sir, I shal wait with all anxiety as I can't write 
 nor send to Mr. Yates imtil I hear from you. 
 
 "Whether poor Mr. Godbee's anxiety was set at rest, and 
 the Pantomime found, is not now to be ascertained, but it is 
 to be hoped it was. 
 
 Of all my father's attempts at dramatic writiDg T can find 
 no trace, save one little song intended for a musical piece, 
 which was written to the air " My mother bids me bind my 
 hair." * 
 
 The " Comic Annual " of 1832 was dedicated by permission 
 to King William the Fourth, who received the dedication and 
 a copy of the work very graciously, and eventually expressed 
 a desire to see my father. He accordingly called upon his 
 Majesty by appointment at Brighton. My father was much 
 taken with his Majesty's cordial and hearty manner, and I 
 believe he was very well received. One thing I remember 
 is the fact, that on backing out of the royal presence, my 
 father forgot the way he had entered, and retrograded to the 
 wrong entry. The king good-humouredly laughed, and 
 
 * Vide "Complete Works." I hare also, by the kindness of Mr. 
 Benjamin Webster, become possessed of the original MS. of a farce "York 
 and Lancaster. " Mr. Mark Lemon has also been good enough to send me 
 a portion of another farce. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 61 
 
 himself showed him the right direction, going with him to 
 the door. 
 
 In 1832 he left Winchmore Hill, owing to some disagree- 
 ment with his landlord, who declined to make some neces- 
 sar}'^ alterations ; it was much to be regretted, and he always 
 spoke of it afterwards in that light. He was induced to take 
 a house in Essex, — Lake House, Wanstead. He was over- 
 persuaded to do so by some not very judicious friends, and 
 he ever afterwards repented it. It was, however, a beautiful 
 old place, although exceedingly inconvenient, for there was 
 not a good bed-room in it. The fact was, it had formerly 
 been a sort of banqueting-hall to Wanstead Park, and the 
 rest of the house was sacrificed to the one great room, which 
 extended all along the back. It had a beautiful chimney- 
 piece carved in fruit and flowers by Gibbons, and the ceiling 
 bore traces of painting. Several quaint Watteau-like pictures 
 of the Seasons were panelled in the walls, but it was all in a 
 shocking state of repair, and in the twilight the rats used to 
 come and peep out of the holes in the wainscot. There were 
 two or three windows on each side, while a door in the middle 
 opened on a flight of steps leading into a pleasant wilderness 
 of a garden, infested by hundreds of rabbits from the warren 
 close by. From the windows you could catch lovely glimpses 
 of forest scenery, especially one fine aspen avenue. In 
 the midst of the garden lay the little lake from which the 
 house took its name, surrounded by huge masses of rhodo- 
 dendrons. 
 
 In the early part of his residence at Wanstead, my father's 
 boyish spirit of fun broke out as usual. On one occasion 
 some boys were caught by him in the act of robbing an 
 orchard ; with the assistance of the gardener, they were 
 dragged trembling into the house. My mother's father 
 happened to be stayhig there, an imposing- looking old gen-.
 
 62 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 tlemau, who had not forgotten his scholastic dignity when 
 looliing on anything in the shape of a boy. A hint to him 
 Sufficed, and he assumed an arm-chair and the character of 
 a J. P. for the county. The frightened offenders were drawn 
 up before him, and formally charged by my father with the 
 theft, which was further proved by the contents of their 
 pockets. The judge, assuming a severe air, immediately 
 sentenced them to instant execution by hanging on the 
 chen-y tree. I can recollect being prompted by my father 
 to kneel down and intercede for the culprits, and my 
 frightened crying and the solemn farce of the whole scene 
 had its due effect on the offenders. Down on their knees 
 they dropped in a row, sobbing and whining most piteously, 
 and vowing never " to do so no more." My father, think- 
 ing them sufficiently punished, gave the hint, and they 
 were as solemnly pardoned, my father and gi-andfather 
 laughing heartily to see the celerity with which they 
 made off. 
 
 On another occasion two or three friends came down for a 
 day's shooting, and, as they often did, in the evening they 
 rowed out into the middle of the little lake in an old punt. 
 They were full of spirits, and had played off one or two 
 practical jokes on their host, till on getting out of the boat, 
 leaving him last, one of them gave it a push, and out went 
 my father into the water. Fortunately it was the landing- 
 place, and the water was not deep, but he was wet through. 
 It was playing with edged tools to venture on such tricks 
 with him, and he quietly determined to turn the tables. 
 Accordingly he presently began to complain of cramps and 
 stitches, and at last went in-doors. His friends getting 
 rather ashamed of their rough fun, persuaded him to go to 
 bed, which he immediately did. His groans and complaints 
 increased so alarmingly, that they were almost at their wits'
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 63 
 
 ends what to do. My mother had received a quiet hint, and 
 «yas therefore not alarmed, though much amused at the 
 terrified efforts and prescriptions of the repentant jokers. 
 There was no doctor to be had for miles, and all sorts of 
 queer remedies were suggested and administered, my father 
 shaking with laughing, while they supposed he had got ague 
 or fever. One rushed up with a tea-kettle of boiling water 
 hanging on his arm, another tottered under a tin bath, and 
 a third brought the mustard. My father at length, as well 
 as he could speak, gave out in a sepulchral voice that he was 
 sure he was dyii,^, and detailed some most absm'd directions 
 for his will, which they were all too frightened to see the 
 fun of. At last he could stand it no longer, and after 
 hearing the penitert offenders beg him to forgive them for 
 their unfortunate joke, and beseech him to believe in their 
 remorse, he burst into a perfect shout of laughing, which 
 they thought at first was delirious frenzy, but which ulti- 
 mately betrayed the joke. 
 
 Nor was I,* though a mere child, more exempt than my 
 mother from a few innocent pranks. I had a favourite 
 but very ugly wooden doll, combining all the usual features 
 of the race, a triangular nose, button mouth, and inverted 
 eyes. This lovely creature I left by some chance in the 
 dangerous precincts of my father's study. What was my 
 horror and amazement next morning to find her comely 
 visage thickly studded with bright pink spots ! For some 
 horn's I dared not go near her, as she lay extended on the 
 table, being firmly persuaded she had the measles, then 
 
   My sister was often the subject of such jokes. I myself was too young 
 for any more advanced pleasantry than a "booby-trap" of light pamphlets, 
 carefully disposed on the top of the study door, but I was often spectator of 
 little plots laid for my sister, such as a pinch of damp gunpowder plastered 
 round the -wick of a ca.-.dle, which she would light in order to fetch some 
 book, or go on some pretended errand. — T. H.
 
 64 MEilOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 very prevalent in the neighbourhood. My father was, of 
 course, the author of the mischief, and perceived the success 
 of his plan with infinite amusement. My fears, however, 
 were not allayed tiU poor dolly underwent a thorough 
 ablution, under which purification her few remaining charms 
 vanished for ever. 
 
 Though living at Wanstead, my father and mother still 
 visited the sea-side at intervals ; indeed my father seemed 
 always to yearn with a vague longing for the ocean, "his old 
 love" — ^just as dwellers in towns long for green fields. In 
 1833 he wrote the following letter to Wright from Rams- 
 gate. 
 
 Ramsgate, May 26, Wind E. N. E., Weather moderate. 
 Remain in the harbour the Isis, Snow, Rose, Pink, Daisy, 
 cutters ; Boyle, steamer ; John Ketch, powerful lugger. 
 
 In the roads, the Mc Adam, with Purbeck stone. The 
 Jane,* on putting out to sea, was quite upset, and obliged to 
 discharge. 
 
 'O' 
 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 It was like your lubberly taste to prefer the Epsom 
 Salts to the Ocean Brine, but I am glad to hear you do 
 mean after all to trust your precious body, as you have 
 sometimes committed your voice, to the " deep, deep 
 sea.'' Should its power overwhelm you, it will only be 
 a new illustration of the saying that "might overcomes 
 (W) right." 
 
 (Jack enters to say the wind and tide serve, so am after 
 a sail, which I hope, with respect to myself, will prove a 
 '• sail of effects.'') 
 
 * My mother.— T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. M 
 
 (3 P.M. Re-enter the Ann* with T. H,, his face well 
 
 washed, his coat dripping, collar like two wet dog's ears, and 
 his old hat as glossy as a new " 'un." He eats a biscuit as 
 soft as sopped gran-ite, takes a dram of whiskey, and theu 
 resumes the pen.) 
 
 vove ia(/ ^ ■.xfi'' "^ ^^^6 A .X,, brisk ; 
 
 
 Although they are prose, I defy a poet to write better 
 descriptive lines of the sea than the four last. 
 
 The Perby seems to have been highly creditable to 
 Glaucus and the rest of the favourites. Outsiders (and sea- 
 siders) for ever ! 
 
 There come over here boats from France laden with boxes 
 of white things, of an oval shape, the size of eggs ; I rather 
 think they are eggs, and I was much amused with an 
 energetic question which one of our local marines put to 
 one of the French ones, — " Where do you get all your 
 eggs 1" as if they had some way of making them by 
 machinery. For certain the quantity is great, and the 
 French hens must lay longer odds than mine. Please to 
 copy the following verbatim, and send it to Dilke per 
 post : — 
 
 Pencilled annotation on Prince Puckler Muskau, from 
 Sackett's Library, Ramsgate, p. 212, vol. i. 
 
 " What a lie, you frog-eating rascal ! What do you mean 
 by telling such a twister ? " 
 
 The weather is so fine, you will be a great Pump if you do 
 not come here sooner than you propose. 
 
 • A young lady, a friend of my father. — T.H. 
 VOL. X. ^
 
 66 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 When you talk of the middle of the week, you may as 
 
 well embrace the waist of the week, and come down here 
 
 at once by Tuesday's Margate steamer. Every hoxir will 
 
 do you good, so don't stick Thursday obstinately on your 
 
 back, like an ass ridden by Day. Seriously, I shall look for 
 
 you, and my doctor says all disappointments will throw me 
 
 back. Mind while you are on board, have a crust and 
 
 Cheshire and bottled porter for a lunch. The last is 
 
 capital ! No entire can match that which hath been 
 
 ripened and mellowed by voyaging. Even Ann Porter 
 
 is improved by crossing the Channel. Don't forget the 
 
 pig-tail, — that is the porter. And sit not with your back 
 
 to the bulwark, on account of the tremor of the engine. 
 
 The sound is as of a perpetual gallopade performed by sea 
 
 horses. Just go to the chimney and listen. There was 
 
 no illness whatever when I came down, — at least human 
 
 sickness. The only symptom I saw was the heaving of 
 
 the lead. 
 
 • * * » « 
 
 I remain, dear Wright, yours distantly, 
 Thos. Hood, R.N. 
 
 P.S. Wind has veered half a point. Forgot to say we 
 forgot my birthday on the 23rd, so are keeping it to-day ex 
 post facto, but not completely as usual, for I had no artillery 
 <o discharge at one o'clock. 
 
 While residing at Lake House, my father wrote his only 
 completed novel, " Tylney Hall," much of the scenery and 
 description being taken from Wanstead and its neighbour- 
 hood. This was dedicated to the Duke of Devonshire. 
 Here also was written a little volume containing a poem 
 called the " Epping Hunt," with illustrations by Cruikshank.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 67 
 
 The frontispiece was an admirable likeness of an old gen- 
 tleman who lived near us, a Mr. Rounding.* He was one 
 of the few surviving representatives of the genuine old fox- 
 hunting squires of other days, living in hospitable style in 
 their large old houses, and keeping packs of hounds. He was, 
 I believe, the manager of those Cockney Olympian revels, 
 the Epping Hunts, which, however, at that time were many 
 shades better than they are now. 
 
 * He was the landlord of the inn at Woodford, at this time. He had 
 Been better days, but though he had outlived his good fortune had not out- 
 lived the esteem and respect of friends and acquaintances. He was the life 
 and spirit of the Epping Hunt. 

 
 68 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 1835. 
 
 He is involved in Difficulties by the Failnre of a Firm — Birth of only Son 
 — Illness of Mrs. Hood — Acquaintance with Dr. Elliot — Goes to Ger- 
 many — Nearly lost in the "Lord Melville" — At Rotterdam — Letters 
 to his Wife — Joined by her and the Children at Coblenz — Letter from 
 Mrs. Hood to Mrs. Elliot — Acquaintance with Lieutenant de Franck 
 — Letters to Mr. and Mrs. Dilke, Mr. Wright, and Lieutenant de 
 Franck. 
 
 At the end of 1834, by the failure of a firm my father 
 suffered, in common with many others, Tery heavy loss, and 
 consequently became involved in pecuniary difficulties. 
 " For some months he strove with his embarrassments, but 
 the first heavy sea being followed up by other adversities, 
 all hope of righting the vessel was abandoned. In this 
 extremity had he listened to the majority of his advisers, 
 he would at once have absolved himself of his oblijxations 
 by one or other of those sharp but sure remedies, which the 
 legislature has provided for all such evils. But a sense of 
 honour forbade such a course, and emulating the illustrious 
 example of Sir Walter Scott, he determined to try whether 
 he could not score off his debts as effectually and more cre- 
 ditably, with his pen, than with the legal whitewash or a wet 
 sponge. He had aforetime realised in one year a sum equal 
 to the amount in arrear, and there was consequently fair 
 reason to expect that by redoubled diligence, economising, 
 and escaping costs at law, he would soon be able to retrieve 
 his affairs. With these views, leaving every shilling behind 
 him, derived from the sale of his effects, the means he 
 catried with him being an advance upon his future labours, 
 he voluntarily expatriated himself, and bade his native land 
 good night."
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 69 
 
 This is extracted from a letter of his own in which he 
 describes the whole course of his affairs. 
 
 To put the crowning stroke on all his sorrows and anxieties, 
 my mother was taken most dangerously ill after the birth of 
 their only son (Jan. 19, 1835), and for some time her life 
 was despaired of. Then was first laid the foundation of that 
 friendship with Dr. and Mrs. Elliot of Stratford, which only 
 terminated with my father's life. Under God's permission, 
 and thanks to the skill and care of their kind friend and 
 physician, my mother was once more restored to comparative 
 health. My father only waited to see her partially recovered, 
 and then, pursuing his plan, he started for Rotterdam in 
 the "Lord Melville," proposing to look out for some pleasant 
 and suitable town on the Rhine where he could settle. 
 
 My mother was to follow with her children as soon as 
 she was able to bear the fatigue of travelling. At that 
 time such a journey was no light undertaking ; in fact, it 
 required almost as much care and forethought as people 
 think necessary in these days to exert on going to Egypt. 
 My father's voyage was a disastrous one, for the fearful and 
 memorable storm of the 4th and 5th of March, 1835, came 
 on ; when eleven vessels, including a Dutch ludiaman, were 
 lost off the coast of Holland. To the mental and bodily ex- 
 haustion which attended this danger, my father attributed 
 much of his subsequent sufferings. 
 
 He finally fixed on Coblenz as the suitable place for a 
 residence, and from thence he wrote the following letter to 
 my mother. I have inserted it as a proof of his tender 
 and watchful care of her, and the affection that considered 
 even trifles worthy of attention when conducing to her 
 comfort.
 
 70 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 CoBLENZ, March IZth. 
 At last, my own dearest and best, I sit down to write 
 to you, and I fear you have been looking anxiously for news 
 from me. 
 
 In truth, I wrote a long letter at Nimeguen which I sup- 
 pressed, having nothing certain to say. I will now tell you 
 first that I am safe and ivell — which is the very truth — and 
 then I may relate how I got on. I had a dreadful passage 
 to Rotterdam : Wednesday night was an awful storm, and 
 Thursday morning was worse. I was sea-sick and frightened 
 at sea for the first time : so you will suppose it was no 
 trifle : in fact, it was unusually severe. I went up at mid- 
 night and found four men at the helm, hint enough for me, 
 so I went down again, and in the morning a terrific sea tore 
 the whole four from the helm, threw the captain as far as 
 the funnel (twenty paces), and the three men after him. 
 Had it not come direct aft, it would have swept them into 
 the sea, boat, skylights, and everything in short, and have 
 left us a complete wreck. Eleven others miscarried that 
 same night, near at hand, so you may thank the cherub I 
 told you of : but such a storm has seldom been known. It 
 was quite a squeak for the Comic for 1836. But when you 
 come the weather will be settled, and such a sea comes but 
 once in seven years. When you see four at the helm you 
 may be frightened, but mind, not till then. Steam, I think, 
 saved us, you ought to offer up a golden kettle somewhere. 
 You were given over and I was given under — but we have 
 both been saved, I trust, for each other, and Heaven does 
 not mean to part us yet. But it made me very ill, for it was 
 like being shaken up in a dice box, and I have had a sort of 
 bilious fever, with something of the complaint Elliot cured 
 me of, and coiild not eat, with pains in my side, &c., which I 
 nursed myself for as well as I could.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 71 
 
 I made two acquaiutancos on board — one gave me an 
 introduction to a doctor at Coblenz, whom I have not seen ; 
 the other gave me an introduction to his father here, where 
 I took tea to-night ; their name is Vertue, so you see my 
 morals are in good hands. 
 
 I got to Rotterdam only on Thursday night, and I supped 
 there very merrily with the young Vertue and two of his 
 friends. 
 
 On Friday night I stopped at Nimeguen, which is in a 
 state of war, and could proceed no further till Saturday, 
 which night I passed aboard, and on Sunday arrived and 
 slept in Cologne. Here I was detained on Monday by the 
 steamer having broken a paddle, but made myself agreeable 
 to an old general. Sir Parker Carrol, who took me with him 
 to see the lions. I gave him a bulletin to carry to Dilke. 
 Strange to say, the general once lived at their house. Also 
 made acquaintance with a Rev. Mr. Clarke, a gentlemanly 
 young man, and we started on Tuesday for Coblenz, where 
 we slept ; again, on Wednesday to Mayence, slept there, and 
 to-day he set off for Frankfort, and I returned here. At all 
 these starts I have had to rise at five, and was too worn out 
 and weak to undertake the walking plan I had concerted 
 with Dilke, so I went up and down by the boat instead. 
 Luckily, I got better on Tuesday, and that day and Wednes- 
 day and to-day being fine, I enjoyed it very much. From 
 Cologne to Mayence is all beautiful or magnificent ; I am 
 sure you will enjoy it, especially if, as I will try, I meet you 
 at Cologne. 
 
 I want you to see the cathedral. I am going to-morrow on 
 foot to look among the villages : but my impression is, from 
 what Mr. Vertue says, there will be some difficulty in finding 
 anything there ; but at all events there are lodgings to be 
 had in Coblenz, which is a place I admire much. I there-
 
 72 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 fore think you might start for Cobleuz at once, without 
 hearing further from me, when you feel able, letting me 
 know, of course, yoiu: day of sailing, for in case of my getting 
 anything at Bingen, &c., you would have to stop here, and 
 unless I meet with something to my taste above, I shall 
 make this our fixture. 
 
 Consult Dilke. For my part, if well enough, I think you 
 may safely come on the chance, as it would take you five 
 days : one to Rotterdam, one to Nimeguen, two to Cologne, 
 and one to Coblenz. I am writing but a business letter, and 
 you must give me credit, my own dearest, for everything else, 
 as I wish to devote all the space I can, to describing what will 
 be for your comfort.* You must come to Rotterdam by 
 " Der Batavier," which has female accommodations and a 
 stewardess. You may tell the steward I was nearly swamped 
 with him in the " Lord Melville," for he was with us, and 
 will remember it. * * *   You must expect some 
 nuisances and inconveniences, but they will do to laugh at 
 when we meet, and " Der Batavier" is a splendid and power- 
 ful steamer. * * * * With my dear ones by my side, 
 my pen will gambol through the Comic like the monkey who 
 had seen the world. We are not transported even for seven 
 years, and the Rhine is a deal better than Swan River. I 
 have made a great many notes. My mind was never so 
 free — and meaning what is right and just to all, I feel cheer- 
 ful at our prospects, and in spite of illness have kept up. 
 This will not reach you for four or five days, and then it 
 would take you as much more to come, during which I 
 should be sure to get a place, so do not wait to hear from 
 me again. * » * * Yq^ j^iaj reckon, I think, upon 
 settling at Coblenz : it is a capital and clean town, and does 
 
 • At the foot of the letter he added a list of fonetic French words, that 
 my mother would require during the journey. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 75 
 
 justice to Dilke's recommendation. I have already begun 
 some " Rhymes of the Rhine," of which the first is justly 
 dedicated to your own self. But to-night is my first leisure. 
 I have been like the Wandering Jew. How my thoughts 
 and wishes fly over the vine-covered hills to meet yours; my 
 love sets towards you like the mighty current of the great 
 Rhine itself, and will brook no impediments. 
 
 I grudge the common-place I have been obliged to write ; 
 every sentence should claim you, as my own dear wife, the 
 pride of my youth, the joy of my manhood, the hope of all 
 my after days. Twice has the shadow of death come be- 
 tween us, but our hearts are preserved to throb against each 
 father. I am content for your sake to wait the good time 
 when you may safely undertake the voyage, and do not let 
 your heart run away with your head. Be strong before you 
 attempt it. Bring out with you a copy of " Tylney Hall," 
 which I shall want to refer to. I want no others, but the 
 last Comic. If you are likely to be some time, treat me with 
 one letter. Dilke will tell you how to send it. I long to be 
 settled and at work ; I owe him much, and wish to do C. 
 Lamb while it is fresh. I hope Reynolds's spasms are gone. 
 They could not do better than come up the Rhine this 
 summer, it would not cost so much as Brighton — and such a 
 change of scene. I have had some adventures I must tell 
 you when we meet. I bought this paper all by telegraph of 
 a girl at Cologne. We could not speak a word to each 
 other, and the whole ended in a regular laugh throughout 
 the shop, when she picked out of the money in my hand. 
 Was not I in luck to meet the only two or three English 
 that were out, and make such friends with them. But I 
 really am getting a traveller, and am getting brass, and 
 pushing my way with them. I forget to say at Coblenz the 
 men frequent the Casinos, and the women make evening
 
 74 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 parties of their own, but I do not mean to give up my old 
 domestic habits. We shall set an example of fireside felicity, 
 if that can be said of a stove, for we have no grates here — 
 the more's the pity. God bless you ever. 
 
 Your own, 
 
 T. H. 
 
 CoBLENZ (at the Widow Seil's), 372, Castor Hop. 
 My own dearest and best Love, 
 
 The pen I write with — the ink it holds — the paper 
 it scrawls upon— the wax that will seal it — were all bought 
 by me ct la telegraph— except that I had the assurance 
 (impudence and ignorance go together) to look a pretty 
 young German lady in the face and ask her for the use of 
 her lips, not to kiss, but to translate for me, but she 
 couldn't. The purport of this is to tell you what I think 
 will give you ease and comfort — that I am fixed here in a 
 snug, cheap, airy lodging — thanks to the kindness of the 
 Vertues, who have taken great trouble for me. Lodgings 
 furnished are scarcely to be had here at all, and when the 
 Vertues came they had to stay at an inn seven weeks. 
 They say, and I feel, I am fortunate. There are three little 
 rooms, one backward, my study as is to be, with such 
 a lovely view over the Moselle. My heart jumped when 
 I saw it, and I thought, " There I shall write volumes ! " 
 My opposite neighbour is the Commandant, so it's a genteel 
 neighbourhood. To-day I visited the Church of St. Castor, 
 who is to be our patron Saint (vide address), and I saw a 
 bit of his bone. Seriously it is quite a snuggery, where I 
 should want but you and my dear boy and girl to be very 
 happy and very loving. I went up a mountain opposite 
 yesterday evening, commanding a magnificent expanse of 
 view, but the thought would come that you were not in all
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 75 
 
 that vast horizon. But it is splendid, and I'm sure it is 
 \vhat you would enjoy. The Vertues have been very kind. 
 I have just taken tea with them, and they will call to- 
 morrow to see me set in. Widow Sell is a woman of pro- 
 perty, and always aboard her own barges, travelling up 
 and down the Rhine, and her daughter is here keeping 
 house. She seemed wonder-struck this morning, and so 
 was I, to reflect how we are to get on, for she knows nothing 
 but German ; but to-night I have delighted her by telling 
 her in German (which I have poked out) to send to the 
 hotel for my bag and cloak. She said over and over again 
 " das is gude." I hope we shan't end in Eloisa and Abelard. 
 In the fullness of her approbation the maid fairly gave me 
 a slap on the back. You must know servants here are great 
 familiars. The waiters at the inns are hail-fellows with the 
 guests, and in truth but for them I must have foregone 
 discourse, for they generally speak French. I find my 
 French reviving very fast, and so I get on well enough. 
 
 I dine at a table d'hote, and sleep here and breakfast, 
 then coffee at the inn, and no supper. You can have your 
 dinner sent in here, I mean for us all, very reasonable and 
 without trouble ; and on the first of May I can have 
 Vertue's servant, for they are going to England. She un- 
 derstands English wants, and has a high character, so I 
 think I have provided for you tolerably well. 
 
 Tell Dilke I am highly pleased with Coblenz, and quite 
 confirm his choice — it is by far the best thing I have seen. 
 
 I do hope you will soon be able to come, and in the 
 meantime I will do everything I can think of to facilitate 
 your progress. * * * I should like a set of Comics for 
 Vertue ; and bring with you the bound up Athenaeums 
 and your own bound books. Get the steward of the 
 Batavier to see you ashore at Rotterdam, to the Hotel des
 
 76 MEMOKIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Pays Bas, and in case of any difficulty about customs, which 
 is very unlikely, send from the Hotel for Mr, Vertue, jun., 
 there. The English ladies will explain for you, and he will 
 lend his help, I feel sure. Let me know exactly when you 
 sail from London, and I will meet you at Cologne somehow. 
 Tell Fanny she may see soldiers here, if she likes, all day 
 long. They are always exercising ; it seems like — " A month 
 he lived, and that was March !" 
 
 If she behaves well on the voyage, and minds what you 
 say, I will show her wonders here. To-day has been beau- 
 tiful — quite warm — and the weather looks well set in for fine. 
 My little room has the reputation of being cool in summer. 
 
 I saw a vision of you, dearest, to-day, and felt you lean- 
 ing on me, and looking over the Moselle at the blue 
 mountains and vineyards. I long but to get to work with 
 you and the pigeon pair by my side, and then I shall not 
 sigh for the past. Only cast aside sea fears, and you will 
 find your voyage a pleasant one. Your longest spell will 
 be from Nimeguen to Cologne, when you must pass a night 
 on board, but then I shall meet you to take care of the 
 pair, and you will have a good night's rest. Get yourselves 
 strong, there is still a happy future ; fix your eyes forward 
 on our meeting, my best and dearest. Our little home, 
 though homely, will be happy for us, and we do not bid 
 England a very long good night. Good night too, my 
 dearest wife, my pride and comfort. 
 
 " And from these mountains wliere I now respire, 
 Fain would I waft such Blessing unto thee, 
 As with a sigh I deem thou now might'st do to me." 
 
 SuNDAT Morning. 
 The hens do lay in Coblenz, they are cackling rarely 
 under my window. I am located thus (here follows a 
 sketch). Dilke will understand how good the look out is,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS nOOD. 77 
 
 just at the junction of the Ehine and the Moselle, it is 
 almost the corner house of Coblenz. I am charged a trifle 
 extra because I eat two rolls at breakfast, so you see I 
 improve in my habits : the Germans eat great suppers and 
 little breakfasts. * * * For the sake of every one I keep 
 myself in fighting condition, and have brought myself to 
 look forward with a firm and cheerful composure of mind 
 that I hope you will share in. 
 
 The less treasure I have elsewhere, the more I feel the 
 value of those I have within my heart, and never could 
 your dear presence be more delightful and blessed in its 
 influence than it will be to me now. Our grapes, though 
 soiirish now, will ripen into sweetness by the end of the 
 year, and I shall work like the industrious Germans, whom 
 you will see labouring like ants on the face of their 
 mountains. Tell the Reynoldses they could not do better 
 than take a trip here in the summer, when it must be 
 delightful. It cost me, illness included, but about £10 
 to get here, including Mayence, and I lost something by 
 change in Holland. The Hotels, barring the first rates, 
 professing to be English ones, are moderate and comfortable. 
 My dear Fanny will enjoy herself here, there is so much 
 bustle, barges, steamers, soldiering, and children like dwarf 
 men and women. 
 
 Tell her I expect she will take great care of you and her 
 brother on the voyage, and not give you trouble. The 
 first thing I shall ask, when I see you, will be if she has 
 been good, and if so I will take her with you to see the 
 cathedral at Cologne, which with its painted glass, (fee, 
 will be to her like fairy land. * * * * You must bi'ing 
 blocks enough with you for the whole Comic, or more than 
 that will be better, as I may do the Epsom or something 
 else. Bring a good stock. * * • •
 
 73 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I hear that the Ostend steamers got well knocked about 
 iu our storm, and had some men washed overboard ; — my 
 head still reels occasionally, and the stairs seem to rock, 
 so you may judge what it was — the very worst for many 
 years. The " Batavier " is an excellent boat ; have porter 
 on board her, as you will get none after Rotterdam ; up 
 the Rhine take Cognac and water, not the sour wine. 
 Wrap yourself well up, and when the bustle of departure 
 is over you may be very comfortable, but up to Cologne 
 there is little worth seeing, except the towns, such as 
 Diisseldorf. From Cologne to Coblenz is superb, and I shall 
 enjoy it with you ; but mind, be sure to come when you 
 appoint, as I cannot stay long at Cologne. 
 
 Write to me " Poste Restante a Coblenz," as I go to the 
 post-office every day to inquire like Monsieur Mallet. You 
 would be quite in the fashion here with a silk bonnet, and 
 one of those cloaks with a deep cape to the elbows of plain 
 or figured silk, or stuff", such as I saw about the streets of 
 London before I left. It is very quiet here, except when 
 Mrs. Commandant gives a party opposite, when thei-e are 
 carriages. You get a glimpse of the Rhine in front — you 
 must not expect carpets here, and you will have stoves 
 instead of gi-ates, these are universal. By the bye Mrs. 
 Dilke told me to have my linen well-aired, I suspect it was 
 only her ignorance, and that she had taken what is up in 
 all the packets "Dampschiffe " for damp shirts. It signifies 
 steam boats, — not an unnatural mistake. My young land- 
 lady has paid me a smiling visit this morning, and we have 
 had a little conversation in German and English, which 
 neither of us understood. St. Castor has just dismissed 
 his congregation in various grotesque gaieties, the most 
 distinguished feature was a violet and pink shot-silk um- 
 brella I have also had a visit this morning from a strange
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 79 
 
 young gentleman, but for want of the gift of tongues he took 
 nothing by his motion. I am in fact a sort of new IrviTig, 
 with the girl here for a proselyte, she will hold forth, 
 understood or not. Yesterday I gave two groschen to two 
 little gh-ls like Fanny, on the top of the mountain. They 
 went apart, and after a consultation, one dispatched the 
 other to present to me, I guess, an address of thanks, or 
 to ask for more, I don't know which, but I think the former. 
 I found on the same eminence a good honest fellow, very 
 civil for nothing, and a good Christian no doubt, although 
 like Satan he thence pointed out to me all the kingdoms of 
 the earth. 
 
 Whenever my eyes leave the paper they see the Moselle 
 still gliding on, and my own verses* occur to me with a 
 powerful application of them to you, and my children, all 
 beyond the bluest of the blue hills. I shall give you good 
 measure, and shall cross this letter, though I do not pretend 
 yet to write letters worth reading, for my head is still con- 
 fused, and I am but just settled down. Otherwise I have 
 made many notes and memorandums, which I need not 
 write either to you, who will I hope see the things referred 
 to. The Vertues have called, and kept me beyond my 
 time. They have begged me to make their house my home, 
 and are very obliging. To-day being Sunday we dined in 
 state, with a band playing, and I indulged in a glass of wine 
 in which I drank your health. I have just bought with 
 much trouble an instantaneous light to seal this letter 
 with. I am become quite a citizen of the world, I talk 
 to every one in English, broken French, and bad German, 
 and have the vanity to think I make friends, wherever 
 I go. 
 
 Tell Dilke this, it will please him. Say to John I shall 
 • " Still glides the gentle streamlet on."— T. H.
 
 80 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD 
 
 ■write him a long letter as soon as I hear from London, ana 
 also to Dilke. I have seen to-day the whole troops on the 
 parade, governors, de mi-governors, <fec. Their bands do not 
 equal ours, some of 3ur drums would beat them lutllow, and 
 they have no good horses. * * * May God have all 
 those I love, or who love me, in His Holy keeping, is the 
 prayer of the subscribed, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 In accordance with the arrangements laid down by my 
 father, my mother, accompanied by my brother and myself 
 went on board the " Batavier" on the 29th of March, 1835, 
 and were joined by my father at Cologne. From thence we 
 proceeded to Coblenz. I have inserted the following letter 
 from my mother, as it describes better than I could do their 
 first settling in their new home. Her descriptions also of 
 what she saw are so evidently influenced and aided by my 
 father's observations, that they are almost as interesting 
 as his own. 
 
 372, Castor Hof, Coblenz, i2nd June, 1835. 
 My dear Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 * * * * J ^as fortunate in my voyage here 
 in having fair weather, and also in having the ladies' 
 cabin of the " Batavier '' to myself, with the exception 
 of a young lady about fifteen, who was coming to a 
 Moravian School at one of the villages on the Rhine. The 
 stewardess too was a very respectable woman, and very 
 attentive. We got to Rotterdam about six on Monday 
 evening, and then some of my troubles began. We were 
 to set off by the Rhine steamer at six the next morning, 
 and I desired them to call me at five ; but the stupid
 
 MEMORIALS OF TKOMAS HOOD. 81 
 
 chambermaid came and knocked at my door at twelve. I 
 did not find out the mistake until I had with difficulty- 
 roused Fanny from her bed, and got her dressed. From 
 being disturbed, when six came the poor child was so sick and 
 ill I was obliged to have her carried down to the steam-boat. 
 From Rotterdam to Cologne is very flat and uninteresting, 
 and a very slow passage, as it is against the stream. We 
 passed the night on board, wliich I should not have minded, 
 except for the children. I got some beds made up for them 
 in the cabin, and thought they would be tolerably com- 
 fortable. But at nine we stopped and took on board a 
 company of Prussian soldiers, with about twenty officers, 
 who all came clattering into the cabin, which was not very 
 large, and the tables were spread for their suppers. After 
 they had done eating, they played cards till three in the 
 morning, when most of them were put ashore at Diisseldorf. 
 We were to have arrived at Cologne at 12 o'clock, but to 
 accommodate the Prussian officers, our steam was made to 
 boil a gallop, and we arrived at 10 a.m. So that I got to the 
 Hotel du Rhin before Hood, who was killing time on the 
 parade. When he arrived I scarcely knew him, he looked so 
 very ill. He made me stay a day here to refresh, which 1 
 very much needed ; for my poor baby suffered much for want 
 of his usual comforts, and I felt the fatigue with the children 
 very much. Our stay allowed us to see the curiosities of 
 Cologne, which are well worth seeing ; the Cathedral more 
 especially ; at the least so much as is finished of it, for it 
 never will be completed unless the old days of Roman 
 Catholic power and glory should return. Tlie interior for 
 lightness and elegance is perfectly exquisite. Hood says if 
 the Loretto Angel had to carry away a Cathedral, he would 
 choose that of Cologne. We saw all its wonders and relics, 
 its golden shrine, inlaid with cameos and gems, and delicat,e 
 
 VOL. X. 6
 
 82 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 nosaic ; though some of the jewels, by a dishonest miracle, 
 are converted into coloui*ed glass. We saw the crowns of the 
 Three Wise Kings, and also some admirable sculptures in 
 ivory. I must not forget to mention the painted windows, 
 which are splendid, and the tapestries in the choir from the 
 designs of Rubens, which are quite in the style of the Car- 
 toons. There is also a curious picture, very old indeed, of 
 the Three Kings adoring the Virgin and Child— in parts 
 recalling RafFaelle to my mind. In the old church of St. 
 Peter, where Rubens was baptised, we saw one of his master- 
 pieces — the martyrdom of the patron saint — they make you 
 stoop and look at it, with your head downwards (like the 
 figure of the martyr) to show the expression of the face, 
 which is truly marvellous. From the church — what a next 
 step ! — we went to the masquerade room, which is of vast 
 dimensions, supported by a range of pillars in the middle, in 
 the shape of gigantic champagne glasses, out of which seem 
 to issue a quantity of painted masquerade figures nearly 
 covering the ceiling. The idea is better than the execution. 
 German wit and humour. Hood says, are like yeast dumplings 
 a day old. 
 
 We arrived at Coblenz about six, and really the place 
 justifies our friend's recommendation. The houses are good, 
 the streets wide, airy, and clean, with here and there a bit of 
 pavement in the English style, which I always found attracted 
 my weary feet as if it had been a loadstone. The walking in 
 Cologne was very rough. Hood calls it a stone storm, and 
 says if a certain place is paved with good intentions, Cologne 
 nmst have been paved with the bad ones. The very horses 
 
 are compelled to wear high-heeled shoes to prevent slipping. 
 ***** 
 
 As for Hood, he was in a wretched state of health, he had 
 been sadly overdone before he left England, and the storm
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 83 
 
 he was out in completed the mischief, otherwise he is fond of 
 and used to the sea : but they were very nearly lost, eleven 
 other vessels were wrecked the same night, in the same 
 storm, in or near the mouth of the Maes. 
 
 Hood got worse day by day, but we could not prevail on 
 him to have advice, though Mr. Vertue strongly recom- 
 mended Dr. B who had attended his family while they 
 
 were here. At last we were compelled to call him in, for 
 Hood was seized with most frightful spasms in the chest. I 
 cannot express how wretched, and terrified I was, for he said 
 himself it was like being struck with death. His counte- 
 nance was sunk and his eyes too. He was seized first at 
 
 night, and Dr. B remained with him for two hours, and 
 
 then left him somewhat easier, but the pain lasted, at 
 intervals, all night, and left him next day as weak as a child. 
 After this he had many similar attacks, but slighter ones. I 
 wanted faith in our physician, but of course did not say so ; 
 their practice is so different to the English, they won't hear 
 
 of calomel. However Dr. B certainly brought Hood 
 
 round, and for the last fortnight he has got on rapidly, for 
 
 which I cannot be too thankful. Dr. B recommends his 
 
 going to Ems, for a little change, but he is too busy to spare 
 time for it. 
 
 Last Thursday was Corpus Christi day, and the host was 
 carried in great state and pomp. They erected an altar over 
 a public conduit at the end of our street, the said conduit 
 having been prematurely erected by the French as a trophy 
 of their coming triumph over the Bussians. It is most 
 laughably inscribed. 
 
 "Memorable par la Campagne centre les Russes, sous la Prefecture de 
 Jules Douzan. Anno 1812." 
 
 " Vu et approuve par nous, Commandant Russe de la ville de Coblenz le 
 ler Janvier, 1814."
 
 84 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 So much for the Foreign department, and now for the 
 Home ! You will be glad to hear the children have thriven 
 recently to my heart's content. Fanny is very well and 
 happy, my baby is a healthy little creature, and so 
 " bronzy '' * with brown and red, his Papa declares that at 
 our first party he shall hold a wax-candle. He is as fat and 
 hard as a German sausage, and so merry you would pick him 
 out, as Dr. Kitchener recommends you to choose lobsters, 
 namely as "heavy and lively." N.B. Paternal vanity is 
 answerable for the last sentence. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The coffee here is really a sort of evening brown stout. It 
 is roasted, or as they say here " burned " at home ; and 
 whatever be the cause, it is so different a beverage that Hood 
 says, he suspects with Accum that the English coffee is made 
 from horse-beans. Tea is bad, and dear here. You may 
 judge how good the coffee must be when I say that I do not 
 regret it ; besides the leaves are not in request here, as there 
 are no carpets. Hood says amongst the " Bridgewater Trea- 
 tises,'' they might have instanced this as a manifestation of 
 a Providence. 
 
 I have heard of German cousins, but I am sure we are not 
 relations, or we should be more upon speaking terms. 
 
 " We are only on tcdkmr/ terms with the Butcher, an Anglo- 
 Prussian officer, and the Doctor {all in the hilling line), but 
 Hood manages to get on with a little bad French, which, as he 
 lived at Wanstead, he veryprobably inched up at '■Stratford atte 
 Bow^ notorious, as Chaucer declares, for such a jargon. All 
 our dinners are ordered per dictionary, but we still get onions 
 
 * This is an allusion to two handsome bronze figures of children reading, 
 mounted as candlesticks, which used to stand on the drawing-room mantel- 
 piece, and were familiar to all his friends, so that the joke was a domestic 
 one.— T.H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 83 
 
 sometimes for turnips, and radishes for carrots. It sounds 
 farcical but it^s true, that I sent for a fowl for my dear inval- 
 uable invalid (/ mean Hood), and tJie servant brought back tu'O 
 bundles of goose-quills ! '' 
 
 I need not make any remark on the foregoing sentence 
 which has been written in my absence, but I must confirm 
 
 the feathery fact. 
 
 ***** 
 
 My baby has been vaccinated here according to law, as we 
 should have been fined for omitting it ; though where the 
 original cow-pock comes from is a mystery, as well as the 
 milk, for you never see a cow but once on a time in a cart : 
 and good reason why, as peas, beans, corn and clover, run all 
 into one, without hedges or fence of any kind. 
 
 It surprises me that we get sweet milh, the Germans have such 
 a turn for everything sour. The wine is soiw, they preserve 
 plums in vinegar, the very spring water at Ehrenbreitstein is 
 acid, and called Sour Water ! However, as a set-off, they picMe 
 their walnuts with sugar and cloves. But the vinegar made of 
 Hock or Moselle is superb, almost a wine of itself. I am 
 picJding some cucumbers that I expect will be superlative. 
 
 That is Hood's again, for my letter is written by snatches 
 as " my occupation isn't gone " like Othello's, but come. For- 
 tunately my baby is fond of Gradle, and will go to her, which 
 relieves ray fatigue. 
 
 " / should have said, carries off a good deal of my Fat 
 Teague ! " 
 
 Hood again ! I will not quit this letter again till I have 
 finished it, he has " interpret himself so.'' 
 
 Our greatest present annoyance is, that if we poke out a 
 short sentence of broken German, they give us such credit 
 for our progress that they fancy we can return a whole volley 
 of paragraphs. I regret very much that I cannot converse
 
 86 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 with one of our landlady's daughters, she has such a sweet 
 voice, so pretty a face, that Hood is quite in love with her, 
 but fortunately he can't declare himself. Female beauty, or 
 even prettiness, is a rarity at Coblenz. A miller's daughter, 
 a mile off, is the paragon. Hood calls her the " Flour," they 
 say she is well educated too ; I mean, if possible, to walk out 
 and see her ; strange to say she is still single. 
 
 " Joe Miller says, because there are two dams to ask instead 
 of one /" 
 
 We heard of her through a young English officer in the 
 Prussian service here. He introduced himself to us, during 
 our evening walk, being attracted by our King's English, and 
 we were equally by his, as well as by his dog, which seemed 
 7wme made ; for you must know the Coblenz dogs are remark- 
 ably ugly and naturally like foxes, but after the first warm 
 summer day, they were all converted, by clipping the hinder 
 parts, into mock lions. He seemed determined to know us. 
 First he told Fanny, who was not at all timid, to have no 
 fear of his dog, who was not at all ferocious. As that failed 
 to lead to an introduction, he walked back after us, and 
 introduced himself In truth we were equally glad to give 
 him change for his English, which he declared he had had by 
 him till it had become burdensome. He has since called : 
 he has been fourteen years in the Prussian service, but his 
 heart seems to yearn after England and his family ; his 
 mother is an Englishwoman. He is a very nice unassuming 
 young man ; as he is stationed at Ehrenbreitstein he has 
 offered some day to help us to scale that impregnable 
 fortress. ***** 
 
 While Hood was ill I felt very depressed and out of spirits, 
 of course my own weak health rendered me but a poor nurse 
 to him. I thought there was no end to my troubles, and 
 felt as Ptosaliud says, "how full of briars is this work-a-day
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 87 
 
 world." But I am now iu much better spirits, and we get 
 on better altogether. The comforts the English miss are not 
 very portable, or they might bring them out, for instance, — a 
 four-post bed, a Rumford stove, a kitchen range, and a carpet. 
 But use reconciles, we almost feel native, and "to the manner 
 bom," so don't pity us, for we don't pity ourselves. * * 
 Hood bids me describe a scene with Miss Seil, the land- 
 lady's daughter. I wanted some egg-cups, and in illustration 
 I showed her the eggs, and she guessed so near that she 
 snatched up a saucer and broke the egg into it, evidently 
 wondering in her eg-otism that having eggs we did not know 
 where to lay 'em. When I shook my head, she looked at me 
 in despair, and seemed to say, " What a pity that broken 
 German and broken English should break good eggs ! '*■ 
 Talking of eggs, you find them in the market of the gayest 
 colours ; and Hood says, " Twigg would wonder what co- 
 loured hens they are that lay them.'' I took the purple ones 
 for egg-plums. They have apples now of last year's growth, 
 and bring them to market, and put them in water to plump 
 them out ; and I can believe Head's story of the tailor 
 eating a washhand-basin full of fresh Orleans plums, after 
 seeing the countrymen eat the apples only half un-\fizened 
 out of the tub. The potatoes are small, and Hood says he 
 was nearly choked by some sliced up and fried, as he found 
 afterwards, in the same pan which had cooked some bony 
 
 Prussian carp the day before. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The foregoing letter presents a fair specimen, here and 
 there, of the dictations and suggestions, but more especially 
 of the interpolations and additions, with which my father 
 delighted to embellish my mother's letters. Whenever she 
 left a half-finished letter anywhere in his reach, she was sure, 
 on her return to find " notes and queries " inserted, often
 
 88 MEMOHIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 much opposed to her original meaning, and frequently tend- 
 ing to the utter mystification of the recipient of the letter. 
 Her handwriting was, although legible, rather peculiar, and 
 he delighted in making it more so, — altering o's and a's, and 
 changing t's into d's, to the utter confusion of her meaning. 
 On one occasion this led to an absurd mistake. She had 
 written to a friend to procure her some good Berlin patterns 
 for slippers, &c. ; but during her absence, my father got hold 
 of her note, and, in his favourite fashion, altered and touched 
 up the words. Some time after, she received a reply from 
 her friend, asking what new English article it could be that 
 was dignified by the name of " dippers ! " 
 
 From the time of their arrival at Coblenz, my father's 
 health continued very bad ; and the necessity for constant 
 work still continuing, there was little chance of amendment. 
 Still his happy flow of spirits never failed him, as may be 
 seen by his letters. 
 
 The first summer of my father's residence at Coblenz was 
 pleasantly varied by his making acquaintance, as mentioned 
 by my mother, with a young Prussian officer, M. de Franck. 
 After their meeting during a walk by the Rhine, my father 
 wrote him the following note : — 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I regret that I had not a card about me to offer 
 
 to you in acknowledgment of a rencontre so agreeable. I 
 
 beg leave to enclose one, lest you should suppose me infected 
 
 with that national shyness, which makes foreigners so apt to 
 
 consider us as a grand corps de reserve. 
 
 I have the honour to be. Sir, 
 
 Yours obediently, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 Lieutenant db France, 
 19th Polish Regiment, Ehrenbreitstein,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS nOOD. 85 
 
 My father found in M. de Franck a very pleasant and 
 agreeable friend, and a great help in all difficulties of German 
 usage and language. He was his constant companion in all 
 his fishing rambles and excursions, and used to drop in, in a 
 quiet friendly way, of an evening, and play cribbage with my 
 father and mother. They made the merriest and cosiest 
 little party imaginable, generally finishing with some small 
 treat of English cookery for supper. During my mother's 
 enforced absences to superintend the cooking of these little 
 edibles, the " two knaves " took the opportunity of changing 
 her cards, moving her pegs, &c., secretly delighted at her 
 puzzles and wonderings on her return. On these occasions 
 my father generally kept them in a continual laugh by his 
 flow of witty anecdotes and jokes. 
 
 The following is a letter to Mr. Dilke, the then editor of 
 the " Athenseum," and one of my father's early friends : — 
 
 CoBLENZ, May Gth, 1835. 
 
 My dear Dilkb, 
 
 You ought to have heard from me before, but I 
 was loth to inflict upon yovi bad news in return for your 
 very kind letter, for every syllable of which I thank you, and 
 instead of quarrelling with what you have said, I thank you 
 for the meaning beyond. The truth is I have been un- 
 changed from the hour I left you, my mind has not faltered 
 for an instant, but though the spirit is willing, the body is 
 weak. My health broke down under me at last, after a series 
 of physical, as well as mental trials, and I am not a-Gog 
 corporeally, witness my experiments in your night-gowns. 
 " Tylney Hall,'' the " Comic," Jane's illness, and the extreme 
 exhaustion consequent thereon, disappointment, storm and 
 travel, came a pick-a-back, and I am not a Belzoni to carry 
 a dozen on each calf, two on my head, &c. I broke down —
 
 90 MEMOKIALS OF THOMAS HOOD 
 
 not but that I fought the good fight, like a Widdrington, 
 with a good heart, but I was shorn of my physical powers. 
 The storm was a severe one. What pitched over, literally, 
 stout mahogany tables, where eight or ten may dine, might 
 derange anyone ; and the change of climate, which is really 
 considerable (we had hotter suns in March than in England 
 during May), had its effect. The safe arrival of Jane with 
 my darlings all better than I had hoped for, did me a world 
 of good. * * * * 
 
 I assure you sincerely as to my personal feelings, with a 
 decent state of health, I could be very happy and contented ; 
 the presence of a very few friends would make my comfort 
 complete. But I now suffer mentally, because my health 
 will not keep pace with me. I have at last reluctantly called 
 in medical aid ; the whole system here seems based on San- 
 grado's practice, bleeding, blistering and drastics. I had the 
 prudence to mitigate his prescriptions, which in the propor- 
 tion of two-thirds almost made me faint away. They do 
 not recognise our practice here, or I could doctor myself. 
 But according to Sir F. Head in " The Brunuens," Germans 
 require horse medicines. I think I never in my life felt such 
 a prostration of physical power, I can hardly get up a laugh, 
 and am quite out of humour with myself. If I were Dick 
 Curtis I could give myself a good licking, I mean my body 
 for not being more true to me. The "Athenseum" has been 
 a great delight to me — it costs me here only two groschen, 
 about two pence. Is it not singular that a fortnight ago, as 
 the 07ily exception to the rule, it cost me four or five groschen. 
 I understand that throughout the Rhine, everything within 
 the last two years has risen nearly fifty per cent, from the 
 great influx of English, Notwithstanding this, many of the 
 necessaries are very good and cheap, but their bread, &c. I 
 am going to make a calculation whether home cookery will
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. Ul 
 
 not be the cheapest, though we have hitherto dined at the 
 hotel, pour voir le monde. 
 
 I was going to resume this, but was prevented by what 
 soldiers call a night-attack. On going to bed I was seized 
 with violent spasms in the chest, which after some time 
 compelled me to send for the Dr. at midnight. I could 
 only bx'eathe when bolt upright, and rarely then, at the 
 expense of intense pain; I thought every breath would 
 be the last. My Dr. certainly does me good, and, though 
 a Jew, does not repeat his visits unnecessarily, but " waits 
 till called for;" he talks a little English, and as Pope 
 says I feel assured, " a little learning is a dangerous 
 thing." 
 
 Jane said to him, " I wish you could give to Mr. Hood 
 some strengthening medicine ; " to which he replied, "who is 
 that physician you speak of?" But a more whimsical mis- 
 take arose out of my lay-up, which I must give you dramati- 
 cally. Our servant knows a few words of English too, her 
 name is Gradle, the short for Margaret. Jane wanted a 
 fowl to boil for me. Now she has a theory that the more 
 she makes her English un-English, the more it must be 
 like German. Jane begins by showing Gradle a word in the 
 dictionary. 
 
 Gradle. " Ja ! yees — hiihn — henne — ja ! — yees." 
 
 Jane (a little through her nose), " Hmn — hum — hem — 
 yes — yaw, ken you geet a fowl — fool — foal, to boil — bile — 
 bole for dinner 1 " 
 
 Gradle. " Hot wasser 1 " 
 
 Jane. " Yaw in pit — pat — pot — hmn — hum — eh ! " 
 
 Gradle (a little off the scent again). " Ja, nein — wasser, 
 pot — hot — nein." 
 
 Jane. "Yes — no — good to eeat — chicken — cheeken — 
 checking — choking — bird — bard — beard — lays eggs — eeggs
 
 92 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 — buue, beine — bin — make cbeekin broth — soup — poultry — 
 peltry — paltry ! " 
 
 Gradle (quite at fault). " Pfeltrighchtch ! — nein." 
 
 Jane (in despair). " What shall I do ! and Hood won't 
 help me, he only laughs. This comes of leaving England ! " 
 (She casts her eyes across the street at the Governor's 
 poultry-yard, and a bright thought strikes her.) "Here, 
 Gradle — come here — comb hair — bran— hum — look there — 
 dare — you see things walking — hmn, hum, wacking about — 
 things with feathers — fathers — feethers." 
 
 Gradle (hitting it off again). " Feethers — faders — ah hah ! 
 fodders — ja, ja, yees, sie bringen — fedders, ja, ja ! " 
 
 Jane echoes " Fedders — yes — yaw, yaw ! " 
 
 Exit Gradle, and after three-quarters of an hour, returns 
 triumphantly with two bundles of stationer's quills ! ! ! This 
 is a fact, and will do for Twigg. 
 
 * * * * I will now write as well as I can a descrip- 
 tion, which may serve to extract for the "AtheuBeum." The 
 boimd volumes were, though only a Dilke-send, like a God- 
 send. You cannot think how well they read here, where 
 there is nothing else to read. There's a compliment for you, 
 worthy of our Irishman. On the first of May here, when I 
 was wondering what would replace the roimc/elays of the 
 London sweeps, the deficiency was kindly supplied by a 
 whirlwind, which made a great many sundries dance in its 
 vortex. I was gazing from the window of the Belle Vue 
 Hotel opposite the bridge, when my attention was excited 
 by a great cloud of German dust, waltzing after the German 
 fashion, to the great embarrassment of some untaught crows 
 or rooks, who were flapping about quite bewildered in its 
 mazes. It came from the direction where the Moeelle 
 mingles with the Rhine. The dust cleared off in about a 
 minute, and the whirlwind itself became distinctly visible.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 93 
 
 travelling diagonally across the Rhine, at a leisurely pace, 
 and showing to great advantage against the rock of Ehren- 
 breitstein, at that time bright with a gleam of sun, and 
 strongly brought out, by a mass of ink-black clouds. Of 
 a grey colour— slender, of equal width throughout — bellying 
 before the wind, with a curve equal to that of the longest 
 kite-string, and moreover towards the top, serpentining in 
 tliree or four undulations, as if from various currents of air. 
 The phenomenon presented the appearance of a narrow but 
 long ribbon let down from the clouds. It apparently rose to 
 a great height — I should guess a mile — and terminated 
 above in a sort of ragged funnel of scarcely twice the dia- 
 meter of the tube. I could not detect any circular motion, 
 in fact I repeat it looked like a ribbon. On reaching the 
 opposite side of the river it raised a surge on the bank, as 
 well as a wash of linen which lay there, and which, after a 
 few pirouettes, disappeared — of course it got a good wring- 
 ing. I have since learned that it also made free with some 
 skins from the leather manufactory situated near the 
 Moselle, and carried them almost to Ems — I suppose to be 
 cured. The whirlwind itself disappeared between Ehrenbreit- 
 stein and its neiglibouring height, following apparently the 
 road to the batns, as if to get rid of its dust. 
 
 But mark the truth of the proverb "one good turn 
 deserves another," the first had scarcely vanished, when 
 looking upwards, I discerned over head a second, but 'parallel 
 with the earth, in the shape of a long black cloud, slowly 
 revolving, and pointing in the direction which its predecessor 
 had travelled over. It had the wind, as the sailors say, right 
 fore and aft, and was somewhat shorter and lustier than the 
 vertical one, ending obtusely towards the wind ; but at the 
 other, terminating in a long fine point ! I could not help 
 exclaiming as I saw it, " there's a screw loose in the sky ! "
 
 94 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 for which evea the Germans who knew English were little 
 the wiser. 
 
 In expectation of seeing you this summer I have made a 
 rough sketch of the thing, however incompetent, for a whirl- 
 wind especially demands a Turner. 
 
 My illness has been a sad hindrance to me in the 
 "Comic," as to the executive, but I have collected some 
 materials. I think I can hit off a few sketches like 
 Head's as to the Germans. I have seen many funny 
 things here. 
 
 Jane is evidently much better, and has walked up the hill 
 to Ehrenbreitstein ; and the children, thank God, thrive 
 apace. The baby, Tom junior, has been vaccinated according 
 to law here ; he gets on well and is very good, giving as 
 little trouble as a baby can. Fanny seldom walks out but 
 with some little Germans walking parallel before and after, 
 and wondering at her to her great amusement. She is quite 
 a model here, for " strange yet true it is " all the children 
 here are bandy-legged ! You never saw such a set of legs as 
 go to school daily down our street. But the people here are 
 very stupid; mere animals; they take no interest in Science, 
 Literature, Politics, or anything I can find, but eating and 
 drinking. 
 
 The " Athenseum " which I one day read at the table 
 d'hote before dinner, has I fear stamped me a pedant. Pray 
 did you ever taste '^ Mai Drank" or May Drink; if not, you 
 have a pleasm-e to come. I look forward to your advent 
 with great joy, and hope some of you at least may come. 
 For my own part, if God would but grant me a stomach, I 
 have heart enough to stay here a couple of years. I only 
 want health and strength. But those will come and the rest 
 with them. 
 
 Thanks to Dr. B , who acted as dragoman or inter-
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 96 
 
 preter, Jane has got her fowls at last ! Ouly an old woman 
 brought them alive and crowing ! It so happened that to- 
 day two hens have appeared for the first time, and the 
 moment Jane saw them she thought we were still at fault 
 and that we were supposed to want to keep them fowls. But 
 the real ones have come home at last, dead and plucked, and 
 we have hopes of one to-morrow, having been thi*ee days in 
 getting it. 
 
 Oh ! how I wish I wrote for A. K. Newman, and lived near 
 Leadenhall Market ! Mon perruque ! how we are to get it 
 boiled is a mystery yet unsolved. I guess Jane or I must 
 just parboil ourselves by way of making signs. I only wonder, 
 in my illness, when Jane sent for a doctor, Gradle did not 
 bring me a bootmaker! But as Jane says, "there is a cherub 
 up aloft for us." 
 
 I dined to-day on bread and Swiss cheese. I have no 
 appetite, and German cookery is "rank — it smells to heaven !" 
 Salt fish they wash till it is fresh, and what is fresh they just 
 make sour enough for you to think it is turned. What ought 
 to be sour — pickled walnuts — are siveet, tasting of cloves — 
 you never know where to have 'em ? 
 
 There are but few roofs in England under which my 
 thoughts find a pleasant resting-place. So Coblenz would 
 be a sort of Noah's Ark to me, but for the olive branch at 
 9, Lower Grosvenor Place. Jane sends her love to Mi-s. 
 Dilke and will write by the next post. News is scarce here 
 both ways. A raft the other day carried away part of the 
 bridge about half a mile ; and though the Rhine is not so 
 rapid now, they were about forty hours getting it back again ! 
 No great credit to their mechanical powers. God bless you 
 all, if the benediction from an Anti-Agnewiiehe worth liaviug.
 
 96 MEMORIALS OP THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Kind regards to all friends. Rogers's Reminiscences to every 
 one who cares to remember, 
 
 My dear Dilke, 
 
 Yours ever faithfully. 
 
 T. Hood. 
 
 19fA May, 1835. 
 
 My dear Dilke, 
 
 I did not expect to write to you again so soon, bxit 
 having to send the above, I do so. 
 
 • * • • 
 
 I have had a fresh attack of the spasms, — scarcely so 
 severe as the first, but longer ; they have left me so weak I 
 can hardly walL But the weather is favourable, and I try 
 to get out, and take exercise and fight it off. The worst is 
 over I think now, but it has been a sad hindrance to me. 
 Next month we are going to alter our arrangements, and dine 
 at home ; with our own kitchen, (fcc, it will be much better 
 and cheaper, and these one o'clock table d'hote dinners cut 
 up my mornings terribly. Thank God ! Jane appears to get 
 on in her health, as well as her fatigues will let her, and 
 Fanny is hearty and happy. But the babe is necessarily 
 poorly from vaccination — he thrives otherwise famously. The 
 air here seems very good and pm-e, and the country is beau- 
 tiful now with the spring greens. We have heard the 
 nio-htincale once, singing beaiitifuUy. Neither the Rhine 
 nor Moselle, however, is very blue yet, — mud-colour rather, 
 we have had so much wind and wet; but the "arrowy river" 
 is fine anyway, what a rush it makes, as if there were some- 
 thing very good at the end of its course : here I could mora- 
 lise, but I won't. I am washy and spiritless, and should 
 degenerate into twaddle. 
 
 The " Athenaeum,'* by special request, when I have done
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 97 
 
 with it, goes to the Hotel, for the benefit of the English who 
 come there. They are not numerous yet, but must be 
 coming, when they do come, in shoals. I was diverted with 
 one young fellow who came up to go to some clerkship at 
 Mayence, a true Cockney. He thought his " dampschiffe " 
 billet was a passport, so left the latter at Cologne, and came 
 on here. He got me to explain the money to him, and after 
 all was done, exclaimed in a real Bow-bell voice : " Well, 
 arter all, there's no phice like Lonnon ! " 
 
 I also met at a shop here with a Parisian cockney — of 
 whom I shall make a sketch a la Sterne — a cobbler's bov ! 
 He told me he came from Paris several times ; asked me 
 whence I came, — "from London." *"Ah, Monsieur, est-il 
 pres de Paris ? " 
 
 Pray tell Mi-s. Dilke one of the last little table displays 
 I have seen here. At the table d'hote, the English are fond 
 of copying foreign customs and manners. First pull out 
 the crumb of your roll, about half of which roll up, and 
 TTork between your fingers (if snuffy the better) into little 
 balls as big as marbles. They will not look exactly like 
 Wordsworth's "Wkite Dough," but rather dirty putty. 
 When you have used yoiir quill toothpick, stick it up, bolt 
 upright, in one of these dirty balls, a little flattened 
 beneath, as you may have seen candles stuck in extempore 
 clay candlesticks at an illumination. Should it (the tooth- 
 pick) want cleaning, furbish it up with one of the other dirty 
 bread balls ; then it will be ready for further use ! This 
 I should think a very polite piece of manners, for I had it 
 from a gentleman who wears a black velvet great-coat, and 
 a ribbon at his button-hole, and who evidently does not 
 think small beer of himself, or vin ordinaire, as I ought 
 to say here. Mind, don't extract this in the " Athenseum " 
 or 'twill be recognised. It is dangerous writing to the 
 
 VOL. I. ^
 
 98 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS flOOl>. 
 
 editor of a paper, so in want of original extracts ! Shall I 
 write you weekly a foreign letter here, as your correspondent 
 from Munich 1 There are no fine arts, or literature, or 
 scieutifics or politics here, but I can make them. Have 
 you heard of our young sculptor, Hoche 1 his group of 
 Goethe supported in the arms of Charlotte and Werther 
 is just put up, but the pedestal is too low. Professor 
 Swaltz's " Essay on the Architecture of the Catti " has made 
 a great sensation here, and has quite filled all mouths, 
 which a week ago were occupied with the project for having 
 a new pump in the Rhein Strasse, and enclosing the parade 
 with posts and rails. Nous verrons. In my next, I shall 
 give you an account, of the grand party at Prince Pfaffi's, 
 <fcc., (fee, &c. I could make you a double number of veri/ 
 Foreign intelligence. Or shall I send you some free trans- 
 lations from the German 1 They translate from me, and 
 I ought to show my gratitude. If I may choose, I should 
 like to make my first experiment on Kant's Transcen- 
 dentalism. I have been to the Hotel of an evening, and 
 got a good notion of German philosophy, — perhaps you 
 are not aware that it is laid on with pipes, like the gas in 
 London ! I have tried to draw some of them, but a real 
 smoker beats the pencil. It is a mistake, by the way, to 
 say " he is smoking," he is not active but passive, — " being 
 smoked ! " How they suck their pipes, like great emblems 
 of second childhood, so placid, so innocent, so unmeaning 1 
 " Mild as the moonbeam ! " * * 
 
 My kindest regards to Mrs. Dilke and TVentworth, and 
 believe me ever, my dear Dilke, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Tnos. HoO0.
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 99 
 
 The followiug letter was addressed to John Wright, Esq., 
 of the firra of Wright and Folkard, wood engravers of 
 Fenchurch Street. This gentleman undertook the arrange- 
 ment of the " Comic " during my father's absence, correcting 
 the proofs, and superintending the more mechanical part of 
 the work. 
 
 372, Castor Hof, Coblenz, Sept. 12th, 1835. 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 You will be glad to hear that I cannot write at great 
 length to you, because I am busy, and able to be busy. 
 You may imagine what a delight it was to us to see the 
 Elliots, — they are so very kind and friendly. Besides, it 
 was a comfort to have his opinion about me, though I am 
 much better. I almost growl at feeding-time if the dinner 
 is not ready. We dine at a very genteel hour — two o'clock, 
 which is also the Governor's time. The universal people 
 take it at one. But I find the difference more striking 
 mentally than corporeally even ; and ideas now come of 
 themselves without being laboui'ed for — and in vain. In 
 fact, I know that I have a mind, or according to the famous 
 form, " Cogito, ergo sum." I believe that's something like 
 the Latin for it, but I forget, for I had a Latin prize at 
 school/ As I find a positive pleasux'e in the power, its 
 exercise must be equally pleasant, and I think I shall get 
 on rapidly; indeed, some evenings I have been quite 
 delighted with my comparative fertility of thought. I have 
 been so unwell, I am down, and difl&dent as to what I do. 
 I shall have some more Sketches on the Road, and some 
 German stories, so I have not been quite idle even in bed. 
 I did hope to be earlier this year, but, as all philosophers 
 must say when it comes to be impossible, "it can't be 
 helped." I am only too happy to exclaim, like the poor
 
 100 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 scullion in "Tristram Shandy," "I'm alive." But some day 
 I hope to make my account even with the storm ; for there 
 were some Eugene Aram-like verses rambled through my 
 brain as I lay for the first night alone here — I believe a 
 trifle delirious, but I remember something of their tenour, 
 and I have a storm by me to work them \ip with. You 
 see I am cutting out work for the winter. * * I am 
 sorry about Gilston Park. It would have turned all my 
 hares white in one night, and then such a herd of deers. 
 I have only three here, Jane, Fanny, and Tom ; but they 
 make a strong ring fence about me. What a lot of 
 Tremaines he must wi-ite to get it back again. We authors 
 are an unlucky set — freehold, copyhold, or copyright. 
 
 Kind regards to alL God bless you, and send you bright 
 days, that we may meet in 1855 like two Rothschildren just 
 come of age and into our fortunes. 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 P.S. — " Yallnuts* is in, and thrippins an underd, and will 
 be lowerer !" Think of that ! 
 
 In the latter part of September, or beginning of October, 
 our friend left with his regiment for Posen, and the fol- 
 lowing letter was written by my father as if from M. de 
 Franck to himself, as a quiz upon the bad memory of the 
 latter. It is a curious jumble of wilful mistakes, and the 
 changes are rung through every variety that can be 
 thought of 
 
 * My father had a great fondness for nuts, which his doctors ■were very 
 loth to allow him. On one occasion my mother kept a quantity of them in 
 a chiffonier, and used to lock the door that he might not get too many. 
 He committed an amiable amateur larceny by taking out the drawer, and 
 fishing the nuts out of the cupboard through the aperture. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. • 101 
 
 Poses, October 30<^, IS 35. 
 My dear Mr. Wood, 
 
 The departure of a friend for Coblenz affords me 
 an opportunity of wiiich I avail myself with much ple;isure, 
 and especially as it ei ables me to prove, in spite of your 
 facetious hints of my inconstancy, that I am not unmindful 
 of my absent friends. On the contrary, I assure you that 
 on our march hither my thoughts often wandered back to 
 Coblenz, and rested on you and your amiable wife and in- 
 teresting family. Xay, although I am now quartered in 
 a city of infinitely more bustle and gaiety, and have besides 
 more multifarious military duties, stUl I can honestly 
 declare, as this letter is a proof, that, in spite of such 
 numerous avocations and distractions, my memory has never 
 failed to recur to the many pleasant evenings I parsed at 
 your apartments in the Rhein Strasse. Indeed, I may 
 almost say that I find Posen itself rather dull for want of 
 such hours and companionship, and especially that of your 
 lively little girl, whose remarks used to please me so very 
 much. I never hear the name of Maria [Georgiana] but I 
 think of her and her merry dark eyes, not forgetting her 
 little brother Peter [William], Sometimes I wonder whether 
 Lina (you see I do not furget anyone) gets more intelligible 
 to her mistress, and I often wish my German could be again 
 tasked to interpret between her and Mrs. Good. These are 
 delightful reminiscences to me, and I shall cherish them to 
 the last moment of my life. Let time rob me of what it 
 may, it can never efface these traces of real friendship — even 
 if I did not possess such a souvenir to remind me of you as 
 the " Comic Manual " [" Chemical Annals "], which you 
 were so kind as to present to me as a keepsake. I assure 
 you, my dear Mr. Woodthorpe, I value it very much, and 
 I did not forget it, and leave it behind me at a little wine-
 
 102 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 house on the right-hand side of the road between Pfiiffendorf 
 and Hocheim. The landlord's name, I think, was Steibel. 
 Your story about "Was the other Dead Man a Beggar?** 
 runs in my head as much as ever, and often sets me 
 thinking of you ; which always ends in the wish that I could 
 say here to my servant, as I used when I was quartered at 
 Ehrenbreitstein, "I am going to Mr. Blood's!" Even Juno 
 seems to miss your indulgence ; she looks melancholy, and, 
 I dai'e say, longs in her heart to have another romp with 
 your little boy, or a race with Miss Sarah round your 
 garden. Poor Juno ! I never take a walk with her of an 
 evening without regrets at our separation. I assure you I 
 have marked as a lucky day in my calendar the one on 
 which I first met yourself, Mrs. Woodroffe, and little 
 Margaret, on the banks of the Rhine. I can only comfort 
 myself with the hope that I am allowed to live in your 
 remembrances as you do in mine : in my mind's eye I see 
 you all plainly at this moment, seated in that little room 
 which looks on the Mosel bridge. As for little Caroline, 
 I picture her, of course, suirounded with her dolls, or play- 
 ing with her old favourite cart and horse. I suppose, by 
 this time, through running about under a German sun, her 
 little brother is as brown as she is ; but there is no harm 
 in that, for one is not very solicitous about having fair boys. 
 If my memoiy serves me, the complexion of her other 
 brother was very dark. It is very singular, but when I 
 arrived at Posen, I did not find any old friends. You will 
 say, of course, that I had forgotten them ; but I will leave 
 my defence to Mrs. Wedgwood, who used to stand my friend 
 in such cases when you ran me so hard, and promised me 
 a slice of bread and butter for a keepsake. The faithfulness 
 and minuteness of my recollections in this letter ought also 
 to speak for me. I can only say, if it should please Fortune,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 103 
 
 even twenty years hence, to throw us again together, you 
 will find that neither your features nor the name of Wood- 
 ley have escaped my memory, which was always reckoned 
 a very good one. But we shall meet, I trust, in a much 
 shorter intei'val than a score of years. I am tantalised here 
 sometimes with rumours of our returning to Coblenz early 
 in next spring. Should we do so, I suppose I shall hardly 
 know Miss Flora again, for by that time her pretty black 
 hair will be long enough to tie into tails, as the German 
 little girls dress their heads. Pray give my love to her, 
 
 and ask her if she remembers Lieut, von F and his 
 
 dog Juno, There is a little girl here, thirteen or fourteen 
 years old, just about her height of figure, and talking a 
 little French also, who reminds me vividly of my little 
 friend in Coblenz. She has the same black eyes and hair, and 
 is equally fond of skipping-rope and swinging. If I remember 
 rightly, those were little Katherine's favourite pastimes. 
 
 And now my dear Mr. Goodenough my time of duty warns 
 me to conclude. It will give me sincere pleasure if you 
 should think this letter worthy of a return in kind, in whicl 
 case I beg you will be particular in giving me every inform? 
 tion of yourselves and your family. Pray take care of your 
 health, and do not neglect my advice about currents of air. 
 I remember you had a discoloration under the eye as if from 
 a severe blow thi'ough sitting in a thorough draught. You 
 must not prosecute your medical mathematical studies too 
 closely. By this time I trust Mrs. Woodbridge is quite well, 
 
 and has no further occasion for the services of Dr. B . 
 
 I sincerely hope she will feel no more ill effects from the 
 dreadful storm she encountered in coming from England. 
 Have the kindness to present my respectful regards to her, 
 with my best wishes for her health and welfare, and a happy 
 and a safe return in due time to Northamptonshire [Scot-
 
 104 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 land]. I thiuk you told me you came from Edinburgh, 
 indeed I remember you had the Northern accent, and which 
 no doubt enabled you to pronounce the German so correctly. 
 Pray give my love to Miss Anne, and tell her I hope she 
 does not neglect her pianoforte. I remember all the airs she 
 used to play to me. Her brothers, I fear, will have forgotten 
 me, otherwise I should desire to be named to them with 
 kindness. I shall eagerly expect every post to hear from 
 you ; and let me again beg of you to mention every one 
 belonging to you, even your dog. You could not afford me a 
 greater gratification ; and if little Charlotte would add a P.S. 
 in her own hand, for I remember she wrote vei-y well, my 
 pleasure would be complete. 
 
 Accept my kindest regards to you and yours, and pray 
 believe me, 
 
 My dear Mr. Woodgate, 
 Your veiy sincere friend and well-wisher, 
 
 Philip de Franck. 
 
 P.S. I shall watch the newspapers for announcements of 
 your new works. I ho{)e that some day you will publish 
 another novel like your Tilbury House [Hall]. 
 To James Wood, Esq., Coblenz. 
 
 372, Castor Hof, Coblknz, Nov. Zrd, 1835. 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 I had yours with great delight, for I was very anxious 
 about the fate of my box. I have made some inquiry and 
 suspect the cause of the delay was that they were thinffs 
 never sent before ; and that when examined at the frontiers 
 between Prussia and Holland, they did not know what to do 
 or to charge. I think such a delay not likely to happen 
 again, but shall take every precaution. I had declared here 
 what they were, and will in future get them sealed by the
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 105 
 
 Doiiane here if I can. The MS. I will send post after post 
 as I write it. I am glad what I sent made so much. Before 
 this you will have found out what was to be done. * * * 
 I am glad you liked Doppeldick. If I can only travel a bit 
 in the spring here I will make " sich a Comic as never vos." 
 
 I know nobody here now but R , a teacher of languages, 
 
 who drops in every Sunday. The last I had such a long 
 palaver with him in French ; and I really believe I must be 
 to him as Horara the Son of Asmar, or one of the relators of 
 the Arabian Nights — though only in giving him an account 
 of England — of which he asks me such questions as " have 
 we any oaks ?" almost if " we have any sun or moon." I 
 make him stare with truths sometimes. And though he is 
 polite like all foreigners nearly, he almost constantly has an 
 involuntary shake of the head. 
 
   * • * 
 
 A shopkeeper, who also spoke French, one of the few I am 
 on speaking terms with, died the other day of " nervous 
 fever," being swelled like a man with dropsy ! Verily I 
 have no faith in the doctors here — we are sure to see a 
 funeral every day — the population being only 20,000, includ- 
 ing troops. I heard the other day of a man having fifty- 
 jive leeches on his thigh ! My wig ! why they out-Sangrado 
 Sangrado ! One of their blisters would draw a waggon. If 
 I should be ill again I will prescribe for myself. 
 
 I will conclude with a Coblenz picture. Jane in bed, 
 smothered in pillows and blankets, suffering from a teri'ibly 
 inflamed eye. In rushes our maid and without any warning, 
 suddenly envelopes her head in a baker's meal-sack hot out 
 of the oven ! prescribed as a sudorific and the best thing in 
 the world for au inflamed eye by the baker's wife (there's 
 nothing like leather !). What between the suddenness of the 
 attack and her strong sense of the fun of the thing, Jane lay
 
 10(5 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 helplessly laughing for awhile and heard Gradle coax off the 
 children with " Coom schbu babie — coom schone Fannische 
 — mama kranke !" Encore ! I sent a pair of light trousers 
 which were spotted with ink to be dyed black ; after six 
 weeks they came back like a jackdaw, part black, part grey. 
 I put my hands in the pockets like an Englishman, and they 
 came out like an African's. I think seriously of giving them 
 to a chimney-sweep who goes by here ; full grown, long 
 nosed, and so like the devil I wonder Fanny has never 
 dreamed of him. There were two ; but the other was 
 stoved to death the other day at our neighbour the general's. 
 
 They lit a fire under him when he was up. Our Dr. B , 
 
 who was sent for, told me gravely, that he could not revive 
 him, for when he came, the man was " hlacJc in the face ! " 
 
 I forgot to tell you that when Gradle first proposed the 
 hot flour prescription of the baker's wife, Jane had flattered 
 herself that it was only a little paper bag of hot flour : and 
 it was only when she was tucked in that she began to feel 
 what a cahe she was ! I wonder what they do for rheuma- 
 tism ! God bless you ! 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 T. Hood. 
 
 P.S. Fanny sends her love, " not forgetting Jemmy and 
 Freddy," and how they would like to come to Coblenz and 
 see all the soldiers, and the generals. There is a man of the 
 general's who rides upon a horse with a helmet on his head. 
 I can almost talk German, I shall be glad to come back to 
 England. Tommy has grown and is very fat. He has two 
 sharp teeth, and he bites my fingers when I put them in his 
 mouth. I am very happy here, because I can see the band 
 go into the general's, I can say how many months make a 
 year, and how many weeks make a month. I can write 
 upon my slate A. B. C. and figures. And oh! I have a great
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 107 
 
 house for my dolls, and three rooms in it ! and 1 can't say 
 any more for my head aches, and I have a great many tea- 
 pots and mugs, and I have got a cold, and a kitchen ! Good 
 night and love to you and Jemmy and Freddy. 
 
 ** All of this stuff is Fanny's, every line, 
 
 For God's sake, reader, take them not for mine ! " 
 
 CoBLENz, 31«( Dec, 1835. 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 Your letter arrived yesterday evening to my great 
 relief, for I began to get very anxious, supposing the book 
 would be published on the 15th, and feel sure I shall be 
 pleased with it, when I see it. All parties appear to have 
 done their best, and for your own share I can only say that 
 I feel you have done for me, as I would for you — your very 
 best ; so accept my best thanks accordingly. And now you 
 will laugh to be told that I am this evening going with 
 De Franck to a grand ball at the Casino, where will be 
 all the rank, beauty, and fashion of Coblenz ; of course not 
 to dance, but at De Franck's advice, who says that the 
 German New Year ceremonies are worth seeing, and I mean 
 to see all I can, and turn it to account. I expect to commit 
 myself by laughing aloud, for when the clock strikes twelve 
 I shall find myself all of a sudden the only unkissed, un- 
 embraced individual in the room ; Franck dined with us on 
 Christmas-day, and by his help in the evening we had a 
 pretty German celebration to the high delight of Fanny; 
 but thereof no more, as we hope some day to introduce it in 
 England.* Our weather is variable, generally frosty — we 
 have a little while had cold enough in all reason, the oil 
 froze in the night light and the pound of butter in the 
 
 • This is in allusion to a Christmas tree, — these pretty things being 
 then quite unknown in England. — F. F. B.
 
 108 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 middle, and as Katchen made a pudding in the kitchen the 
 crust froze. The Rhine and the Moselle are full of ice, and 
 the bridge being taken away, Franck for a month to come 
 cannot stay with us later than nine in the evening, for he is 
 quartered at Ehrenbreitstein on the other side, and must 
 boat it across. He is really a treasure to us, thoroughly 
 English, unpresuming, gentlemanly, and full of good sense, 
 fond of a joke withal. Between him and the children it is 
 quite a m^itual flame ; on their side, sometimes, so as to be 
 laughable. One night after his long absence I hung him up 
 in effigy as a deserter, and he came in and found Fanny 
 crying at it as if breaking her heart. 
 
 N.B. My thunder and lightning waistcoat is come ! so I 
 must go and dress for the ball. To you who know my liahits 
 all this must seem very funny, as it does to myself, I expect 
 to be highly amused. 
 
 Jane is going to curl my hair, and I am going to comb 
 and brush it, more attention altogether than hair generally 
 gets here. I drink, in a glass of holiday hock, to you and 
 all friends, wishing many new years happier than the happiest 
 you have ever known or unknown. 
 
 To-morrow I set in for a new year with many serious 
 thoughts, a few sad ones, but some hopeful ones. I will 
 make play and fight the good fight, never fear me. Remember 
 
 me kindly to , but tell him I mean nothing short of 
 
 payment in full — no composition I The example of De Foe 
 is before me. Somewhat widely is known, and honourably 
 and honestly shall be known if I live the name of 
 Yours, dear Wright, 
 Ever sincerely, 
 
 Thouas Hood.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 109 
 
 Tlic followinsr amusinp; letter to Mrs. Dilke is without date, 
 althougli from many circumstances it was evidently written 
 in the latter part of 1835; 
 
 372, Cast-him-off, God bless, 1835. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Dilke, 
 
 I write to you instead of the D because I am sick 
 
 of him as a correspondent, as a countryman of Taylor s said, 
 *• who would go out with a fellow, that when you fire at him 
 with a blunderbuss only returns it with a pocket-pistol?'' 
 even so have I sent Dilke huge letters full and crossed, 
 enough to drive him blind and stupid, and give him a chronic 
 headache ; and what does he send in answer but a little 
 letteret that cannot do anybody any harm? I suppose some 
 day I shall come to, " T. H. is received " at the fag end of 
 the Athenreum, amidst the mis-called Answers to Corres- 
 pondents. 
 
 In short, I resent, as people resent who know the world, — 
 that is, cut him when he is making advances. You shall 
 have this, who will put it amongst the haujhti/graiplis you are 
 most proud of, instead of telling me coolly that my " account 
 of the whirlwind at Ehrenbreitstein, and the story of the 
 tooth-pick, you had mislaid, and had never been able to lay 
 your hand on it since." It is long since he wrote so ; but I 
 can harbour malice quite as well as Margate pier. I scorn 
 his paltry excuses for brevity without wit, and am astonished 
 that he could have the face to plead "the disturbance of the 
 gentleman overhead," whose noise he confessedly slept 
 throiigh. As for his cock and a bull about " Mr. Pap, who 
 was burnt at Nottingham," I am of Jane's nursery opinion, 
 that "pap oughtn't to be burnt," and that is a sutiicient notice. 
 
 Regarding his whole 'pistle, in reality but a pocket 'pistle 
 candour compels rae to say, I cannot conceive how any man 
 alive could write a duller, "with Liston on one side of him,
 
 no MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 and Miss Kelly on the other." You see I do not spare him; 
 but I have heard that in England it is a sort of genteel flir- 
 tation with the wife to abiise her husband to her face, so I 
 mean to go my lengths. Poor dear wretched woman I I can 
 well conceive your perplexity with him at those Kentish cliffs, 
 for as you say " change of air will bring out any corwplaint 
 that is hanging about." I can fancy him complaining that 
 all the chalk was not cheese, and then the cheese not all rhine, 
 in his megrims. Editors, as you say, are but bad travelling 
 companions, and as Taylor would say, they are but bad 
 visiting companions, or before this he would have left his 
 card at our door ; but he preferred Margate, and I can only 
 say, de disgustibus, &c. 
 
 I don't wonder you " prefer divines" as I do, especially if 
 they are not attached to any particular church or chapel ; in 
 token of which I last week gave a trifle to two Catholic 
 priests towards buildiug a new St. Castor's ; being perfectly 
 persuaded that the money would never be applied to its 
 ostensible use. I hope all stiff" and back-bone Protestants 
 will be satisfied with this my apology. 
 
 They were veiy modest, and would take anything they 
 could get, even copper, so I gave them a very small feather 
 for the tail of the weather-cock. 
 
 If I recollect rightly your style of singing, you were also 
 in favour of "tollol"eration ; besides one of the priests allowed 
 too that " toils les hommes sont des hommes,^' and I felt obliged 
 to pay him for being converted so far into a Protestant. If 
 Mr. Dilke exerted himself, he might get me a missionary 
 stipend. The man's a brute, and I'll prove it by his own 
 contrarieties ; for if, as you state, his only wish on the coast 
 was to " avoid the sea," why on the same principle of logic 
 did he take you with him, but to get rid of you ] Jane feels 
 for you, and so do I, and indeed so do Fanny and Tom when
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. Ill 
 
 you describe taking him by the fin, and hauling him up 
 "all along shore there" to the fish-market, only to hear 
 him complain like a porpoise on land that he couldn't "get 
 enough fish." As to lugging him up to the Fort, you ought 
 to have recollected how little your own -pianoforte used to 
 interest him. 
 
 By your leave what you did with him was an error of 
 judgment; you should have stuck him on a high stool at 
 the parlour window, and made him pay every man in a blue 
 jacket and trousers one and threepence ha'penny. Besides, 
 you forget his travels. Was it likely that a man who had 
 crossed the Simplon, would care to cross a donkey 1 or that 
 he who had seen St. Peter's at Rome, would give one of St. 
 Peter's pence to see St. Peter's in Thanet ? 
 
 You must have forgotten that he had been at Venice, when 
 you took him to " Snobs' watering-place." 
 
 To get him into plain " yellow shoes and a pepper-and- 
 salt dressing gown," must have been a mere Margate miracle 
 after the outlandish nightcaps with no hole to 'em, but like 
 tasselled rainbows I used to find on the pillow of the spare 
 bed at number nine. Even at Coblenz, here, and he recom- 
 mended Coblenz, — a plum-coloured coat, sky blue pantaloons, 
 and a waistcoat of patchwork in silk is the costume. When 
 he does make a holiday in future, pray make him look more 
 like an Editor, that is to say, clothe him in all the "miscel- 
 laneous articles " you can muster. Judging by this costume, 
 I suspect a good many of the Germans here are editors, and 
 
 that accounts for D wandering in this direction. But 
 
 you will do well to egg him on in this fancy, for then, next 
 year I may see you, and in the interim I will look out for 
 
 Gei-man J. C , S and Mrs. C to meet you, — 
 
 not forgetting a Mrs. Pap, who (D says in his coufideur,ial 
 
 letter to me) is " a very sociable, good-tempered woman."
 
 112 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I am sure lie means her, though he cunningly lays it on 
 Mr. P. He says " Mrs. Pap, whose husband was burnt at 
 Nottingham — the latter is a very sociable," tfcc, &c. But 
 don't be blinded so grossly. 
 
 Thank God you will have left ere this ; a little longer 
 and you would perhaps have been left, like Ariadne, on 
 the shingles, looking at your husband gone off in a Pap-boat. 
 
 But "henuff hov'im," as of course you used to say at 
 Margate. * * * * Tom, Junior, who came to Cologne 
 a little " shabby, flabby, dabby babby," has grown a young 
 Kentuck, who can lick his father — as hard as nails, and as 
 brown as rusty ones. For his temper, only fancy mine 
 "with sugar." So unlike Jane's "warm without." Then he 
 is already so good on his legs. I wonder he ever required 
 D. " to stand for him," and as to talking he can say papa 
 when he likes. I have no doubt he only don't cut his teeth 
 because he don't choose. In bulk, he is really a double 
 number, but a good deal more amusing. 
 
 His love for Gradle is more beautiful than its object, for 
 she is like a plain Chinese ; but he will know better as he 
 grows up. 
 
 Your Godchild is well and very good, but from seeing pro- 
 cessions, (fee, is half a Catholic, so if you please, you will 
 come next year, and, according to your vows, teach her High 
 Church. 
 
 I think we could make you very comfortable, — at least 
 you would not need to lie in bed, and eat split peas as you 
 did in Paris. Jane can cook a little. She had the honour 
 of making the first pie ever seen in Coblenz, and the baker 
 so admired it that he abstracted half of the contents — green- 
 p'ases. Gradle can cook in the English style too, but she 
 will not eat what she has so cooked, and yet I imagine it 
 must be a good style, for a poor woman comes for "the
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 113 
 
 broth the bam was boiled in," but Jane suspects that it is for 
 a night-light, — being nothing but water and oil. You shall 
 try it when you come. If you liked Tivoli, we have dozens 
 of such tea-garden places. Mozelweis, Schonbonilust, the 
 Salmiac hut, <fec., &c. I took the Elliots to the first by 
 moonlight, and gave them punch, but nothing to eat was 
 to be had save some cold plum-tart. We are not too refined 
 here to go to German White Conduits and Bagnigge Wellses. 
 In the garden of Schonbornlust (which reminded me, by the 
 way, of some of the shrubberies of Lake House), we saw the 
 lady of our opposite neighbour, the general commander-in- 
 chief of the Rhenish Provinces, or as Fanny calls her, Mrs. 
 Generous (pro general). 
 
 His Excellency is much taken with our brats, and often, 
 as he rides by, gives Fanny what she calls a "laughish 
 smile." But the admiration of the Castor Hof is Tom, or as 
 Fanny says, " all the boys that traverse the street call him 
 Timmus,'' (she got the fine word out of the lesson-book). 
 He quite takes after his godfather Dilke, in eating every- 
 thing he can get, and plenty of it, and he is as stout accord- 
 ingly — not fat but solid. 
 
 This has been a gi-eat blessing, and altogether we are as 
 comfortable as need be. Our lodgings are very commodious 
 and pleasant. A sketch I send Dilke will show our look-out 
 at the back : and we have a tiny kitchen — but it does — it 
 does. We shall be able to give the Elliots a dinner on their 
 way back. 
 
 I am writing in a little study with a bookcase and a sofa 
 in it, so you see I am not without my luxuries ; Fanny has 
 a little bed-room next ours ; Tom has regularly outgrown 
 his cradle. 
 
 Thank God, Jane and I have stopped growing, for as it ia 
 1 cannot stretch at full length in the bed, except diagonally ; 
 
 VOL. X. 8
 
 114 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 because of the head and foot boards. The Prussians are 
 universally shortish and the beds are in proportion, I ought 
 to call them cribs. Ours is like " a coffin for two." So you 
 may suppose we shall have no difficulty in finding spare beds 
 for you when you come. Dilke must sleep upright in a cup- 
 board. Mind you must not expect to be saluted when you 
 arrive, it is not the fashion here, we have had many greater 
 personages, and they did not get a single gun. Queen of 
 Naples, Princess of Beira, Prince Frederick of Prussia — not 
 a pop — at last came the King of Wurteraberg, and as no- 
 body else did, he saluted himself with some tiny guns from 
 his own steamer. 
 
 But you may get kissed a few ; Lieutenant Franck told us 
 that when the third battalion of his regiment came here, he 
 had to be kissed by about thirty officere of it. It has a very 
 droll effect to see these moustached veterans embracing each 
 other, like boarding-school misses. 
 
 Franck, who is an Englishman, cannot bear it, and un- 
 luckily he is rather short. Allan Cunningham might escape 
 it. I saw a young couple, lovers or newly married, kiss on 
 separating in the steamboat, and, after going a few paces, 
 the lady turned back and had another ! The gent by this 
 time had got amongst a party of English, for whom the 
 scene was too funny to withstand, and as the lady's " second 
 thought " took effect in the midst of us, we all burst into a 
 general roar. The King of Prussia will not allow his officers 
 to marry unless, independent of pay, the couple have be- 
 tween them about £80 per annum. I have some thoughts 
 of writing a pretty little romance on the subject, only faucy 
 the distress of a jiii. jf such turtle-doves £5 short ! 
 
 Imagine them getting up to £79, and then the captain 
 obliged to sell out 10s. a year for a new uniform. Sitting 
 in the stocks can be but a flea-bite to it. I should not like
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 116 
 
 to be a father with money, for fear Wilhelmiiia or Carlotta 
 should take it into her head to imitate Miss Blandy, 
 
 To be sure the king has some right to look after the 
 officers' matches, for he pays their debts, (I wish I was in his 
 service,) and altogether he seems to be very kind and con- 
 siderate towards them. What I hear of his Majesty I like, 
 and am therefore pro tempore his loyal subject, and drank 
 his health on his birthday. Yesterday we toasted " the 
 Snobs" in Horcheim wine, it only costs id. a bottle, and was 
 quite good enough for such a pledge. I cannot help think- 
 ing your Margate trip has a little let you down, and you 
 will want a jaunt up the Rhine to restore you to gentility. 
 But pray cast off your Margatory manners and costume ere 
 you come. One night there was such an English party at 
 the gardens of the Weissen Ross, that Franck in horror told 
 his brother officers they were French people. 
 
 " It warn't hus," we are among the respectables at present, 
 and one comfort is, that when Jane has worn out her bonnet 
 and all her caps, if we can't afford new ones, it's very 
 fashionable for ladies to go bare-headed in the street. 
 
 Then for me a blue smock frock is a sort of sporting or 
 pedestrian dress for gentlemen, (and though I can't walk 
 much, or shoot, I can make believe,) when I have worn out 
 my best brown and my old black. 
 
 I bought a cap to save my hat, and when I wear it I am so 
 thin withal, you would take me for a jockey who had been 
 overtrained. But I hope to fill up again, for I am going to 
 dinner with an appetite far sharper than our knives, which 
 you may set your heart upon without hurting it. I feel quite 
 a gourmand now, after going for months without dining, 
 indeed it appears to have been a joke agaiusit me at the hotel, 
 that I went to the table d'hote not to eat. 
 
 Now, I scold so, if the dinner is not ready at two ! Jane
 
 116 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 likes nothing less than to hear me exclaim, " slow coach ! " 
 which means that oui" household affairs are not going on nt 
 the proper pace. 
 
 That will sometimes happen, for plain as she is, our Gradle 
 has a lovyer (perhaps more), and goes out gallivanting. I 
 wonder she has not lost him, for the departure of some five 
 thousand troops to the reviews, must have left many of the 
 Coblenz servants at a loss what to do with their hearts. 
 Comparatively we are as a city of the plague, and the streets 
 appear deserted ; the officer and men off duty were always 
 lounging about them. Dinner and turn-out is as common 
 here as tea and ditto in England. 
 
 We often see a party of a dozen officei's in full twig, go to 
 dinner at two, and hop the twig at five or sooner, over the 
 way. I cannot quite get out of my habit of sitting up tC' 
 write at night, and when I am going to bed at eleven oi 
 twelve, and look out of the window, all Coblenzers are in 
 bed : the only living thing is the sentinel at the general's. 
 At noon the whole town literally smells of dinner; the shops 
 are all locked up ; and great is the consumption of grease 
 and garlic. Dilke, who is anything but peaking and delicate, 
 will laugh, and say he never met with anything h^ couldn't 
 eat ; but, upon my " davit,'' I saw a starved-looking dog in 
 the steamboat refuse to touch a plate of scraps set before 
 him by the steward. On looking over .Jane's letter, for fear 
 we should jostle on the same subject (you know we don't 
 agree very well), I see she has given you a description of 
 Gradle's dinner ; so I refrain from mentioning it, and will 
 only say that a knife, not without reason in Germany, is 
 called a messer. As for Dilke (to recur to him), you know his 
 infatuation about everything outlandish. Doesn't he send to 
 the further end of the Edgware Road (or where is it 1 ) for 
 German mustard — only because it looks dirtier than the
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 117 
 
 English ! I'll be bound, if it would give him time, he 
 would give an elaborate panegyric on Prussic acid, because 
 it is Prussian, Ouly try him 1 We would give a trifle 
 here for a good Margate whiting for all his skits on that 
 very delicate flavoured fish, at this distance almost too 
 delicate. 
 
 I should like to have all the skate and flounders he 
 refused; and if I possessed but a brill (that " workhouse 
 turbot '' ), I almost think I should venture to ask his excel- 
 lency to dinner ; at a pinch we could enjoy sprats. I hear 
 we can have oysters here in the season, rather stale-ish, that 
 is to say they come like all other travellers, all " open- 
 mouthed," as if they were looking at our lions. They eat 
 them with vinegar and lemon, and Franck says you cannot 
 eat them without ; for though you have them in their shells, 
 they taste a little too corpse-like ; I t'link I could even eat the 
 great big horse oysters with their beards on, that we used to 
 leave to the coal porters and draymen about London. We 
 have had those lobsters of Lilliput — small crayfish — we 
 thought we must have bargained well when we got 25 a 
 penny, but when Franck supped iipon them with us in the 
 evening, he said we ought to have got a hundred ; perhaps 
 we ought to have got a dozen for nothing. But the poor 
 rich English are very much imposed upon! A maitre d' hotel 
 (a very good authority), told me candidly on coming up, that 
 there were three tarifis for the English 
 
 French 
 Dutch 
 
 He stood in the middle predicament, and I have found his 
 statement perfectly true. The good honest Germans are as 
 great cheats as atxy, though I confess they look honest, they 
 are so stupid-like, and perhaps honesty is stupidity. I had 
 some shirts made here, aud they not only changed the cloth 
 
 I
 
 118 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I had bought of them, but sent me home sonie shirts so 
 laughably short, I could only make shift with them ; this 
 was a respectable shop, Franck says he interfered once (he 
 has a good national spirit about him), when he found some 
 English deplorably fleeced at an Inn. The fact is, though 
 ■we pay three times as much as the natives, it is still so cheap 
 in comparison with England, " dear, dear " England, that one 
 is blinded to imposition. In my last letter to Wright I ven- 
 tured to conjecture that there would be a revolution in Eng- 
 land, if it were from so many English coming up the Rhine, 
 and finding what a deal they can get for their money ; not 
 that they would wish to remove their hing, but that they 
 would wish their sovereign to go farther. 
 
 Only think how you may be charitable on next to nothing 
 by giving a pfenning, the third part of a farthing ; and in 
 this blessed country there is something to be bought even 
 for that low denomination. I wonder what you can get in 
 England for a farthing, for the "little farthing rushlight" is 
 only a fiction. Only fancy Fanny coming to me when 
 Gradle is going to market, for a shilling to dine the whole 
 household. 
 
 We have not tried, but I really believe you might have a 
 snug little evening party for half a guinea ! I suspect you 
 never enjoy the sensation of fulness in the only place where 
 repletion is a pleasure, in the pocket ! 
 
 You might here go out of an evening with your bag full 
 of money ; and such is the nature of the coin, it would only 
 suffice to pay for a lost game or two at shilling shorts. For 
 example, fancy yourself the mother of a dozen strapping 
 Wentworths (father or son they are both of a bigness), and 
 even so does a little dumpty shirt-button-mould of a groschen 
 (a penny), expand by changing into twelve goodly pfennings 
 — each almost a ha'penny — whilst for a dollar (3 shillings),
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 119 
 
 you get 6 pieces, each as big as the old eighteenpeanj tokens. 
 You might fell an ox with a long purse that had a pound 
 translated into Prussian at the other end of it; I wonder 
 Mrs. Fry never came here, one might do such a deal of good 
 ostentatiously for a shilling a week. For my own part, I 
 have not gone further in contemplation than a little feast to 
 the poor children in Coblenz, as I used to see the orphan 
 school regaled in the avenue at the back of dear One-Tree 
 Hill at Wanstead. 
 
 It would be a pretty sight in the Castor Hof ; and fruits 
 being cheap, only think that, buying wholesale, I could for 
 three shillings give a hundred little ones nine greengages 
 a-piece. 
 
 This would be as good as dining them ; for you may read 
 in the " Bubbles " of a tailor and his son who lived in the 
 season on plums. If you would like to join in the enter- 
 tainment, you might make all the parents drunk for about 
 fourpence a head, with music ad libitum for eighteenpence, 
 I assure you I was in doubt at the hotel at a table d'liote 
 whether I could offer a penny farthing to a nice lady-like 
 young woman who had been so obliging as to sing, accom- 
 panied by her harp, all dinner-time. However, as the coin 
 was neither silver nor copper, I managed not to be vulgar 
 altogether, nor yet extravagant. You will be surprised to 
 hear that nothing at all seemed to be very genteel, and some 
 of the gentlemen gave it with a smirk and look as if they 
 expected a salute in return. Never mind Dilke, I say Ger- 
 mans are not liberal (of course only speaking from the sample 
 here), and yet we have an instance of liberality under our 
 eyes enough to redeem a nation. How munificent are the 
 poor to the poor, casting into shade the most splendid bene- 
 factions of princes ! 
 
 Next door to us (a tavern) there lives a poor maniac j the
 
 120 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 house is her own property, and therefore the charitable 
 lunatic asylums are closed against her. Her brother and 
 Ikeir ill-treats her, and is supposed almost to starve her, for 
 the sake of the freehold ; and the poor wretches at the back 
 tenements, weavers and other famished human weazels 
 (the woman who begs our ham-broth amongst the rest), 
 thrust up to the poor mad creature, on the points of sticks, 
 fragments of bread and food, of which, God knows, to look 
 at them, they are scant enough themselves. This I call 
 charity ; and it makes me so pleased with the givers, that I 
 wish I were but that King of Hams, the King of West- 
 phalia, to allow them ham-broth to swim in if they so 
 pleased. 
 
 And now, having given you this pretty episode to sweeten 
 my asperities in my letter, I will leave you with an agree- 
 able impression of human nature and myself. I have 
 written a long letter, because I thought your kindness 
 would be pleased with it, being a cheerful one, after some 
 anxiety on ray account. Besides, I write to you (I hope 
 Dilke won't be jealous) con amore, seeing that we have been 
 always very good friends, and have never disagreed but at 
 secondhand. I mean when I could not put up with your 
 pickled oysters, and you could not endure my preserved 
 sprats. So I heartily reciprocate your " God bless " — which, 
 I remember, when only females were in the case, used to be 
 followed by a sort of smack that might have been heard 
 from No. 9 to Pimlico palace. I do not know whether I 
 ought — but the Germans do — and I'd rather you than 
 Dilke; and besides, I recollect how you sobbed and cried 
 
 when Doctor S   went away without offering . So 
 
 here goes— consider it enclosed! On second thoughts 1 
 have judged it better to keep up appearances with your 
 husband by writing to bin. So that while I get you to
 
 MEMOKIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 121 
 
 remember me kindly to William and Wentworth and Taylor 
 and Ciiorley and Holmes, and all other friends, I can get 
 Dilke to forget me kindly to all the rest, which, I feel sure, 
 he will punctually fulfil. He must have forgot himself when 
 he went to Margate. I only wish when he goes to the 
 coast again " may I be there to sea." Of course you did 
 not dip him, for he is more than a mould already. Fanny 
 asked, in her innocent way, " Did Mr. Dilke go about with 
 a basket and pick up shells 1 " I told her " No ; but he used 
 to take a ride out on a donkey with you behind him on a 
 pillion." I don't wonder at the child's wonder. In the 
 name of Earl Goodwin (who i-ented the famous Sands), 
 what did you do with his appetite ? He is not a man to 
 go about picking shrimps and teazing periwinkles out of 
 their shells with crooked pins. As the sea air is sharpening, 
 I wonder he did not eat you, who are as plump as a 
 partridge, with Mrs. Pap by way of bread-sauce. Then the 
 hot weather you both talk of must have made him open 
 his coat wider than usual, that the wind might get down 
 the arms. I think I see him courting the sea-breeze. 
 " Upon my soul, Maria, this is a delightful place ! So like 
 Coblenz ! So you call this Margate, do you, my beauty ] 
 Well — " (a grunt like a paviour's) " and I suppose you call 
 that the fort — humph ! Considering we might have stood 
 before Ehrenbreitstein instead of it — hah ! " (a sigh like an 
 alligator's). " My God ! — that we could be so insane ! — 
 now any Christian being could stay a month in it ! — why 
 I should hang myself in ten days, or drown myself in that 
 stinking sea yonder ! There is not one thing worth looking 
 at — not one ! I know what you are going to say, beauty ; 
 but because the Crosbys and the Chatfields are such donkeys 
 and the Lord knows who besides, is it any reason because 
 they don't act like common rational beings i liut
 
 122 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 come along !" (no offer to stir though) "let's go up to the 
 market and look at the fish, for I suppose you know there 
 is none to be had here, because it is so near the coast. To 
 be sure, says you, there is whiting — and so there is at 
 Billingsgate ! If ever I go again to a watering-place — I 
 believe that's what you call it, Maria — it shall be Hunger- 
 ford Market. My God ! it is a madness — a perfect madness 
 — to leave home and come down here to see — what 1 a 
 parcel of yellow slippers and pepper-and-salt dressing-gowns." 
 Here he draws down his mouth, and hoists up his shoulders, 
 till his coat-collar hides his ears. " Well, it's too late now 
 to listen to common sense. It serves me right for being 
 such an ass. By the time my holidays are over, I shall 
 know how to spend them ! But perhaps yow like it better 
 than I do, for there's no disputing of tastes. 
 
 "There maybe something to recommend even Margate, 
 though an angel from heaven couldn't find out what it is. 
 I know I can't, unless it's having a drunken noisy vagabond 
 overhead to keep you awake all night long. But I forget, 
 my darling, you don't sleep so light as I do— so much the 
 
 better for you ! Then there's his sister that Mrs. what 
 
 d'ye call her, Tops-and-Bottoms, with her infernal bobbings 
 and curtseyings and over-civility. Damme if I know how 
 to answer the woman ! I suppose according to Margate 
 manners, we ought to ask her to Grosvenor Place. But 
 mind, Maria, when she does, I'm at Somerset House ! Come 
 along" (not a stump stirred yet). " I suppose we must see 
 what isn't to be seen in our salt-water Wapping. All / have 
 seen is 'London butter,' — just think of that, Maria, — 'Lon- 
 don biitter may be had here.' Why so it may in London 
 without going sixty miles by sea for it ; and you, my 
 darling, as sick as a dog ! Spasms ! I don't wonder you've 
 had spasms ; I've almost had them myself. It's the cursed
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOM^iS UOOD. 
 
 123 
 
 negatives of the place, rather than anything positive, — 
 the utter bleakness and desolation of the country against 
 the stinks of the sea-shore. Lord ! that a man with a nose 
 on his face should come here ; and here too one has to 
 remember that there are such places as Coblenz ; and such 
 a river as the Rhine. I'll tell you what, Maria !" Here he 
 tells yoxi nothing ; but stooping over his base, like the 
 leaning tower at Bologna, he takes a very long pinch of 
 snufF, and then anathematising, shakes the dust off his 
 fingers against all Margate and all its inhabitants, present 
 and future. 
 
 There ! isn't that a portrait of him to the life — a cabinet 
 picture — a gem ! Pray take care of it, to be a comfort to 
 you when you are a widow. Perhaps I shall send him a 
 sketch of you as a companion picture, for I can fancy you 
 quite as vividly. If I recollect rightly you were at Margate 
 before and liked it amazingly. Between your raptures and 
 
 <4t 
 
 cin/Uj lAoyy^^ JuJJXJo't-t^uoS^ 
 
 his disgusts I suppose you got up a quan-el, for I observed 
 you say in your letter that "you are both getting a little 
 more reconciled." He must have been awful — and 1 guess
 
 124 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 it was his splenetic attacks on the donkeys to vent his 
 humane notions that originated the notice to visitors 
 about " wanton cruelty." Take my advice, if ever you 
 get him to Margate again put him up to be raffled for. 
 And now as the Germans say "a due!" or as you would 
 say " a do." 
 
 " If these pages should be the happy means of exciting 
 one virtuous impression, or confirming one moral or religious 
 principle, or lightening one moment of human suffering, or 
 eradicating one speculative error, or removing one ill-founded 
 prejudice, the writer will have his reward, and will not have 
 written in vain." 
 
 I am, 
 
 My dear Mrs. Dilke, 
 
 Yours ever very truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 P.S. I dined well to-day on such a haricot ! that I 'm 
 persuaded Jane is the best cook in Coblenz. So I have done 
 the handsome thing and riz her. She had nothing a-year 
 before, and I have doubled it. We got a Westphalia ham 
 against the Elliots' return, at five pence a pound. It is 
 the finest I ever tasted ; such a flavour, quite answerable 
 to its odour, which is as unique in its kind as that of 
 the best Eau de Cologne ! They call it here the " ranch," 
 answerable to the Scottish reek ; but I will say no more 
 here about edibles or you will compare me to Matthews, 
 who began with writing "The Diary of an Invalid," and 
 ended a Gourmand. I should like to send you a real West- 
 phalian, but then the duty ! You ought to take one back 
 
 with you, as Miss M did her sweetmeats from India ; 
 
 she brought a large box of them— preserved Lord knows
 
 MEM0EIAL3 OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 12.5 
 
 what — but the customs demanded so much that instead of 
 bringing them ashore she went and ate them all up on hoard 
 
 herself. I had this from Dr. E , who was called in to 
 
 her after " the Gorge." 
 P.S. God bless. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1836. 
 
 At CoLlcnz — Letters from Mrs. Hood to Mrs. Elliot — Letter to Mr. 
 Dilke — Accompanies the 19th Polish Infantry in their March to 
 Berlin — Letters to his Wife — R turns to Coblenz — Illness— Letters 
 to Lieut, de Franck, Mr. Wright, and Mr. Dilke — Conunencea " Up 
 the Rhine." 
 
 At the beginning of this chapter, I have inserted the 
 following letter from my mother to her friend Mrs. Elliot, 
 not only as interesting in itself, but also as giving a correct 
 history of the "trussing" of the Christmas pudding, to 
 which such frequent allusion is made by my father in his 
 subsequent letters to Mr. de Franck.
 
 126 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 872, Castor HoF, Coblbnz, 28th Jan., 1836. 
 
 Ml DEAR Mrs, Elliot, 
 
 Your welcome letter arrived with many others in a 
 parcel on New- Year's eve. 
 
 We are all well now except Hood, who every now and 
 then has a slight return of illness and weakness, which 1 
 trust when the spring comes he will get over. * * * * j 
 have recovered the use of my eye in spite of all mismanage- 
 ment, but I suffered great pain. I had three spots on the 
 white, or rather the red of the eye like seed-pearl. You will 
 recollect that the people here are most of them troubled 
 with weak eyes. Hood says they are generally brown, but 
 border on red. I forgot to tell you in its proper place, that 
 is to say round my eye, that I was ordered leeches, which 
 were applied by a sort of barber-surgeon, an official not now 
 known in England. Hood desires me to make known the 
 best pai-t of his practice, namely, put the leeches for five 
 minutes into a basin of tepid water, which makes them 
 lively, and eager to bite ; obviating the tediousness and 
 trouble of the English method. And fortunately Hood in 
 his candour ventured to approve of the plan, and drew upon 
 himself the retort of "Now, Sir, you may write to England, 
 and tell them how to put on leeches." But the Germans do 
 not know where to put them, for he put one in the corner of 
 my eye. We have since had the following bill : " To his 
 Lady to put blood-suckers at your eye, six shillings," which 
 charge, translated into English, according to the relative 
 value of money, would be twelve shillings for merely putting 
 them on, exclusive of the "blood-suckers;" but Hood thinks 
 the method is worth attention, and I only mention the 
 charge as a warning to any friends who may be coming up 
 the Rhine, as a sample of what we find too siu-ely obtains
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 127 
 
 throughoiit as regards the English ; this man never receiving 
 more than a third from the natives. 
 
 Hood is so disgusted with their iHiberality in this respect, 
 that he hkes to puVjhsh it as much as he can, especially as 
 the English are the greatest benefactors to the Rhenish 
 towns. I am not sure whether I shall be able to restrain 
 Hood from going to the steam-packets, when they arrive 
 with the English, to say, " Take care of your pockets." 
 
 I will now give you a pleasanter subject — Hood's descrip- 
 tion of the ball at the Casino on New- Year's eve. I made 
 him sit by me and dictate it. " My ticket to meet all 
 the rank, beauty, and fashion of Coblenz cost only twenty 
 groschen, and it was well worth every shilling of the money. 
 His Excellency General De Borstell, commander of all the 
 Rhenish provinces, was there, and so was my tailor, and 
 the man of whom I bought my black stock. To be sure, 
 although in one room, there was a West End. The rank 
 particularly occupied the top corner ; so the right-hand and 
 the left corner next the door seemed to be the favourite 
 with the snips and snobs. To do the latter justice, they 
 behaved with much more decency and decorum than would 
 have prevailed in such a motley assemblage in London. 
 How would you stare, too, in London, to see at a ball a 
 score or two in the uniform of common soldiers oflFering their 
 partnership to the ladies ! But the fact is, as everybody 
 must be a soldier in Prussia, there is no purchasing com- 
 missions : some of the common soldiers are the sons of 
 barons. The dances were waltzes, gallopades, and contre- 
 danses, the last like our quadrilles. They mostly danced 
 well, especially the waltz, which is such a favourite, that I 
 saw girls stand up for it — steady -looking, decidedly serious 
 as a Sunday-school teacher — whom I should as soon have 
 expected to see whirl otF with a young man round the room
 
 128 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 after sixty other couples. They made my head spin at last 
 with looking at them. But the music was beautiful — 
 excellently played. I think / could at least have Jlounced 
 about in time to it myself. The instruments were many and 
 various. They seemed never to tire of the whirligig ; and 
 De Frauck says, they often waltz upon those polished floors, 
 similar to the Duke of Orange's you saw, where we can 
 hardly walk without breaking a leg, as the Duke of York 
 did. I was amused to see De Franck and a young lady each 
 pull out a card or little book, and register something in the 
 Tattersall style of betting ; it was an agreement to each 
 other to dance together at a certain ball, perhaps a month 
 to come. From time to time, the company refreshed them- 
 selves in a suite of rooms laid out with tables, each company 
 paying for its own. For my own part, I got on pleasantly 
 enough amongst a party of Franck 's brother officers, one of 
 whom instantly tendered to me a glass of Cardinal, i.e. 
 Bishop (only cold), with wine, sugar, and the rind of a small 
 green orange they grow here, of the size of a cotton ball, and 
 which has the peculiar property, that a little too much of 
 the rind in the mixture will infallibly give you the head- 
 ache ! I wish I could say much for the beauty of Coblenz ; 
 but there were only, to my taste, three or four with any 
 pretensions. The great favourite was a Miss Nasebeck. The 
 officers hardly reckon it a ball without her. Yet she is not 
 handsome; her nose is decidedly plain— snubby even ; but 
 she seems clever, which is rare enough here, I guess. I had 
 also a young wife of sixteen pointed out to me as interesting, 
 but she looked too like a school-girl. As to dress, I always 
 pet scolded because I could never describe if Miss A, or 
 Miss B. was in blonde or bombazeen. So you must excuse 
 the milline)y, especially as, being of all grades, they wore all 
 sorts of fashions.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 129 
 
 " At last came the dance I had come to see ! Exactly 
 at twelve, bang went a minor cannon in an adjoining 
 room, and the waltz instantly broke up, and the whole 
 room was in motion, everybody walking or running about 
 to exchahge salutations, and kisses and embraces with 
 all friends and acquaintances male and female. Such 
 hearty smacks and hugs, and hand-shakings to the chorus 
 of "Prosit neu Jahr ! Prosit neu Jahr!" Some of the 
 maidens methought kissed each other most tantalisinglv, 
 and languished into each other's arms, I am afraid because 
 so many nice young men and gay officers were present 
 to see it ; but then the fathers and mothers were as 
 busy kissing and be-kissed. With some of the older 
 folks it was quite a ceremony ; and I should think the 
 demand on the sentimentals was very great And there 
 all the while stood your humble servant — the poor English 
 creature — the disconsolate — the forsaken — the dummy — 
 and looker-on — and what you will — with my lips made 
 up and my arms empty — a lay figure — while the very 
 fiddlers were hugging ! Of course I could not kiss my tailor, 
 or embrace the man I bought the black stock of. But 
 luckily I recognised two young ladies I have met at the 
 Vertues'. (You see I stuck to the Virtuous though Jane 
 was not present.) We had never been on speaking terms, 
 as they did not like to own to French far from the best 
 quality. However I convinced them mine was no better, 
 and we complimented each other with a good deal of " bad 
 language." So I went and looked a salute at them, which 
 made them smile, and then the officer who had presented 
 me the glass of Cardinal, came and shook hands with me ; 
 and even this, which was my all, comforted me. It was 
 really a fanny scene, and if you will give a large party on 
 New- Year's eve, and have plenty of beauty and fashion, I 
 
 VOL. X. 9
 
 130 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 will introduce the custom on my return. I mean to try and 
 draw it." * 
 
 So much for Hood's New-Year's eve. I must now tell you 
 my story about the Christmas pudding. The Lieutenant was 
 with us on Christmas day, and enjoyed my plum pudding so 
 much, that I promised to make one for him. Hood threat- 
 ened to play some trick with it — either to pop in bullets or 
 ten-penny nails ; and I watched over my work with great 
 vigilance, so that it was put in. to boil without any mis- 
 fortune. 
 
 I went to bed early, telling Gradle to put it, when done, 
 into the drawing-room till the morning. Hood was writing, 
 and says, it was put down smoking under his very nose, 
 and the spirit of mischief was irresistible. I had bought a 
 gi'oschen's worth of new white wooden skewers that very 
 morning. He cut them a little shorter than the pudding's 
 diameter, and poked them in across and across in all direc- 
 tions, so neatly, that I never perceived any sign of them 
 when I packed and sealed it up the next day for De Franck's 
 man to carry over to Ehreubreitstein. He came to thank 
 me and praised it highly. I find that while I was out of the 
 room Hood asked him if it was not well trussed, and he 
 answered " Yes " so gravely that Hood thought he medi- 
 tated some joke in retaliation, and was on his guard. At 
 the ball the truth came out — he actually thought it was 
 some new method of making plum puddings, and gave me 
 credit for the woodwork. He had invited two of his brother 
 officers to lunch upon it, and Hood wanted f to persuade 
 
 * This forms one of the illustrations of "Up the Rhine." — T. H. 
 
 + And nearly succeeded in doing so, innocently assisted by the oflBcer in 
 question, with whom the pudding had not altogether agreed. Aa he did 
 not know English, and my mother was not yet up in German, a panto- 
 mime ensued on his part expressive of indigestion, but construed by my 
 father as descriptive of the agonies of an internal skewer. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 131 
 
 me that the " Cardiual " officer had swallowed one of the 
 skewers ! Now was not this an abominable trick 1 
 
 We have had very severe weather, and at first suffered 
 much from the cold, for the stoves are dreadful and unsatis- 
 factory substitutes for a good English fire. The Rhine 
 bridge was taken up, and the people crossed the river to and 
 fro in boats. This has been hiconveuient to the officers who 
 live at Ehrenbreitstein, as the private and public balls are 
 numerous at this season, and crossing the Rhine through 
 broken ice in an open boat at twelve, one, and two iu 
 the morning, after dancing, is not very agreeable. They 
 attempted putting up the bridge again two days ago, after 
 a week's complete thaw, and got it a quarter over on each 
 side, but yesterday there came with a storm of wind large 
 masses of ice fi'om other rivers that flow into the Rhine, and 
 tore up the fastenings, crushing the boats, and breaking 
 them into pieces. They have, however, got it up to-day 
 again partly, and if fresh ice does not come it will all be up 
 by eleven or twelve to-morrow. The week before last we 
 read an account in a Coblenz paper that the ice had stopped 
 at the Lurlei (I dare say you recollect that singular and 
 picturesque rock above St. Goar), and that it was " moun- 
 tains high," not having been so before in the memory of 
 man. We found from De Franck everybody was going to 
 see it, and we nobodies wished to join them. It was a briglit 
 day, clear and frosty, and I who had not before been above 
 Coblenz, enjoyed the scenery greatly. We left here at half- 
 past nine, and arrived at St. Goar to dinner at half-past one. 
 We set off after dinner to see the ice, which, we were told, 
 extended far beyond what we could reach that evening, 
 having to return here. The Germans, who are apt to 
 exaggerate, had talked of icebergs not to be found, but still 
 the sight was well worth seeing. Sujiposing you have not
 
 132 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 forgotten the Lurlei, imagine that narrow passage blocked 
 up with a storm of ice ; for the immense pressure had 
 heaved it up in huge waves and furrows, eight or ten feet 
 high, each ridge composed of massive slabs of ice tossed 
 about in all directions. At every bend of the river there 
 had been a dreadful scuffle, and the fragments were thrust 
 upwards end-ways. But the mighty river would not be 
 dammed up — you saw it now and then in a narrow slip 
 rushing like a mill stream — then it plunged under the ice 
 and boiled up again a hundred yards farther on. At one bend 
 of the river a green orchard was covered with great blocks 
 liurled over the bank, one could not suppose how. There 
 were some ridges, or rather ruts, so straight and evenly 
 shaved down, that one flincied some giant of the mountain 
 had driven his car through the middle of the ice, and that 
 his wheels had left these traces and deep furrows. But on 
 considering it, Hood discovered that the middle ice had 
 moved, while that on the sides was stationary, and the 
 friction had worn it as smooth as if cut with a knife. We 
 went to Oberwesel, part of which was under water. We had 
 not time to proceed farther, though we both agreed that we 
 could have gone on, and on, and on, to see more. We hear 
 that higher up a church was surrounded with masses of ice 
 so that only the steeple was perceptible. The Moselle ice 
 carried away a youth of sixteen, who was playing on it, and 
 a similar and somewhat romantic incident occurred on the 
 Rhine. On the island just above the bridge resides the 
 
 Countess of P , who walking out by herself to see the ice 
 
 floating down, managed to fall in ; perhaps she was pushing 
 the loose bits of ice as the children do. Heaven knows what 
 foolish process brought her to do it — but in she plumped ! 
 As Hood says, " some German cherub that sits up aloft " 
 brought » willow bough to her assistance, and there she
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 133 
 
 hung, well preserved in ice, a good long spell — till a yoiing 
 man, the son of one who had been at law with the Count, 
 her father, about some hundreds of thalers, came in a boat 
 and rescued her. There has been much speculation whether 
 the lawsuit would be dropped by the old gentleman, out of 
 gratitude to the preserver of his daughter. However, I have 
 not heard the result. Unfortunately the young lady is not 
 a beauty, or even interesting ; being very short and stout, 
 with a coarse red complexion, and tow-coloured hair. Our 
 friend says she attends the balls, and although always 
 elegantly dressed with a jewelled order of crown and cross 
 on her bosom, all agree she looks like some peasant-girl from 
 the mountains — and one of the plainest too ! Hood foretells 
 she will give her preserver a lock of her tow-coloured hair, 
 and advise her father to proceed with the law-suit. This is 
 his splenetic idea of German gratitude. 
 
 On the 11th February, the Carnival commences, but they 
 seem to think it will not be a good one this year, it was so 
 expensive on the last occasion, though I think to the sober 
 English, the best is but mere trumpery and folly; it is well, 
 however, to see all these novelties before settling again at 
 our dear English fireside, which I look forward to with all 
 hope and comfort. Hood promises himself the pleasure of 
 wanting to Dr. Elliot, to whom he feels much indebted for 
 even his flying advice, as it has done him much permanent 
 good. The steel wine appeared to be of such benefit that he 
 really missed it when he chanced not to take it, and he has 
 had no return worth mentioning of his complaint. He says 
 he has entirely to thank the Doctor, that in medicine he is 
 not an Infidel, and that here, for once, he has no double 
 meaningless meaning, the double practice upon himself and 
 his better half : he hopes the Doctor will not accuse him of 
 presumption that he intends to practise here himself, — but
 
 134 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 only upon himself, and he prays God earnestly that he may 
 not have need of such bad advice. 
 
 How we missed you ! Though it could scarcely be called 
 a glance : as the packet went smoking down the Rhine, we 
 felt as if left upon a desert island, and walked back to look 
 at our untouched luncheon, sad and silent. We then said to 
 each other, " What shall we do ? " and both agreed we must 
 " go out a-pleasuring," — so off we set to take coffee at a 
 roadside wine-house at Mettemich ; we walked up a steep 
 hill through a pretty wood, and took by surprise a beautiful 
 plot of large purple wild crocuses, which covered an open 
 space at the top ; they seemed out of place and season, and 
 so did we. We brought home all our handkerchiefs full, 
 and they lasted in water very long, as if for a souvenir of 
 the day, — that was our last excursion from home, till we 
 went to the Lurlei ; for Hood, getting better, set to work — 
 it was then "all work and no play,'' but I do not recollect 
 seeing him get through it better — he finished with good 
 spirits, and boiled over afterwards with some droll sketches 
 for the work I told you of. Talking of boiling, T must, in 
 self-conceit, say that I am improving decidedly in my cook- 
 ing, having started several things lately " in the fancy line." 
 Yesterday morning I set to work very seriously to make 
 some potted beef, and succeeded, little thinking what un- 
 grateful jests I should draw upon my poor head from Hood. 
 
 Being proud of my own fabrication, I produced it at tea, 
 when De Franck came, and then commenced the jokes of the 
 good-for-nothing. He asked with apparent interest, how it 
 was made, and I said, " I pounded it in a pestle and mortar." 
 *' But, then, dear, we have not got one, you know." 
 
 In short, he insisted that, like the Otaheitan cooks, I had 
 cheived it small ; and as I happened, having the face-ache, to 
 put my hand to my jaw at the time, it seemed a corrobo-
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 135 
 
 ration, of which he made full use. Upon this hint, he 
 huddled joke upon joke, till we were convulsed with laughter, 
 and to-day Franck declares he laughed in the middle of the 
 night. Hood called it " Bullock jam," and when I asked 
 him what he would eat, he replied " what jou chews." To 
 be sure, an ox here, after he has been in his time, a plough- 
 horse, a dray-horse, and a horse of all-work, might give an 
 Ogress the face-ache. I have also attempted a mince pie on 
 a large scale, which was so relished that the baker abstracted 
 half the contents before it was baked. Talking of mince- 
 meat, the Lieutenant tells us a very active poison has been 
 discovered in German black-puddings, of course from the 
 blood being in a bad state. There have been several martyrs. 
 This bit of information is aimed at the Doctor, — Hood hopes 
 
 it would hit him in the stomach. 
 
 « • • * • 
 
 Hood desires me to say he will write to you without 
 expecting you to be a correspondent, but there is at present 
 no news worth postage. He is busy collecting materials, 
 which Head has let slip out of his head. * * * Did you 
 ever hear of bathing in malt ? It is a German remedy. You 
 see written up here, " Beer Brewery, and Bath House," 
 Hood will have it they bathe in the beer. As you recom- 
 mend porter sometimes, he sends you this hint, and of 
 course, as Head insists, the patient will take care "to put 
 the head under," with the mouth open ; pray prescribe it, 
 perhaps an object that went in white and meagre, would 
 come out " brown stout ;" he thinks little children may be 
 done in the small beer. 
 
 Dr. B. is going to London in the summer, he said to me 
 when my eye was bad, " In Germanee we do cure every- 
 thing, all but Death, that is the divine law." We asked 
 him how they cured the> typhus fever,^ and he said, " Oh ! to
 
 136 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 be sure with cold water ! " De Frauck says, some time 
 back, they prescribed the same remedy for everything, and 
 every pump in the place was an apothecary. 
 
 Pray accept our best thanks, and kindest regards, and 
 believe me, 
 
 My dear Mrs, Elliot, 
 
 Yours very sincerely, 
 
 Jane Hood. 
 
 The steam-packets commenced coming up the Rhine to 
 day, and the bridge is up again. One seems more com- 
 fortable at these signs of better weather, though it may be 
 long ere the Dampschiffe bring any friends to us, and seldom 
 that we cross the bridge. Hood and De Franck are talking 
 of wonders they are to do in the fishing line (not meant for 
 a pun). The perch are very fine, and at St. Goar we saw the 
 salmon jump, and they say they are to be caught with a 
 line. I think Hood is laying out for more than he will have 
 time for : he must, if he has health, travel for his new book ; 
 and then the other Comic will have to come out earlier if 
 possible. We often speculate what we shall do on our return 
 to England. 
 
 Hood's is rather a greedy style — he says he will stop at 
 some coffee house directly he lands, and have some bread and 
 cheese and porter, and, then he will call at Williams' noted 
 shop at the Old Bailey for boiled bee£ This is shockingly 
 John Bullish, is it not ? My dear little boy splutters out 
 with much anger Cradle's washing of bones, with fried onions 
 and potatoes, which she calls soup. 
 
 Think of this and of the poor exiles, and write, write, write 
 to far Cermany. I mean to be so gay as to go to the play 
 here, which is three times a week. They play an opera 
 called the " Zampfer " which is very fine music, they say ;
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 137 
 
 and they finish early which is very pleasant for me, who 
 cannot depend upon Cradle's care of the children. 
 
 I must conclude, as the post-time nears. Please give our 
 compliments to Mr. Maiden. God bless you all. The best 
 wishes of the season to you. 
 
 Believe me ever, my dearest Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 Jane Hood. 
 
 At Herr Deubel's, 
 752, Alten Graben, Coblenz, June 20th, 1836. 
 
 My dear Dilke, 
 
 Many, many thanks for your letter, and the kind 
 interest and trouble it evidences on my behalf. They are 
 such as I might have expected from the best and last friend 
 I saw in England, and the first I hope to meet again. 
 
 We are in much better lodgings, at the same cost, though 
 our address, literally translated, is at " Mr. Devil's, in the 
 Old Grave." We are now near the Moselle bridge, in a 
 busy, amusing street, but out of the town in three minutes' 
 walk. 
 
 We did not part with Miss Sell without some serio-comic 
 originality in her struggles between extortion and civility. 
 One moment she kissed Jane like a sister, and the next 
 began a skirm.ish. First came Suspicion that, as we left a 
 little before the time agi-eed on, we would not pay up to 
 it. Satisfied on that point, Content fell to kissing. Then 
 Memory suggested we had broken two or three old chairs 
 and a glass, but finding we had replaced or sent them to be 
 mended ourselves, she fired a fresh salute. Away we went, 
 and then Avarice prompting, she sent a volley of chairs, «tc., 
 we had not broken, to be repaired, and requested the use of
 
 138 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 the rooms. That promised so soon as we should have cleared 
 out and cleaned up, she fell to compliments again ; but 
 sniffing that she meant to whitewash, repair, and brush up 
 at our cost, we were obliged, in self-defence, to hold the 
 keys. Thereupon she had the locks picked, and set to work, 
 and hinted she would favour me with the bills. So I entered 
 into the correspondence, and as she had sent Jane a quantity 
 of notes in German, I thought it only fair to give her one in 
 English, which I knew she must carry half over the town to 
 get translated, and then, I fear, it will not be veiy flattering. 
 I pointed out to her that she had no right to both rooms and 
 rent, and as picking locks is a grave offence in Prussia, she 
 must have, and had, presumed on a foreigner's ignorance of 
 its laws. This has shut her mouth, and stopped the bills, 
 and also the hilling. Gradle marched on the 1st of March 
 (military again), and, I am sorry to say, made a bad end. 
 First, as Tom didn't at all want physic, she showed, or le' 
 him find his way (whilst his mother was out) to the cup- 
 board "wot holds the honey-pot." Secondly, having " vained 
 de Bibi," she did her best to unvain him again, and set him 
 roaring all at once after his " Mutter." Thirdly, as Fanny 
 had the face-ache, she opened all the windows directly our 
 backs were turned, and, having taken a fit of cleanliness, she 
 was busy one day brushing down the dust from the ceiling 
 and walls over Missis's gowns. She had warning for the 1st 
 of March, but, as Jane is as unlucky as " Joe," * this of all 
 years was leap year. It is too cei-tain the dear departed 
 made a percentage on everything she bought for us. I 
 declined to sign a certificate of honesty Vertue had given 
 her, so she cast her eyes on Joseph, the carpenter, whom she 
 got to marry her, induced by the fortune of a " Bibi " two 
 
 * " Unlucky Joe," is tte best character in my father's novel, " Tylney 
 HaU."— T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 189 
 
 years old, and 150 dollars saved out of the 60 she had 
 received from Vertue and us. Joseph's mother, whom he 
 partly supported, dying opportunely the day before she left 
 us, the wedding was fixed for the fortnight after the funeral ; 
 but, owing to some mysterious interdict of the priest, did 
 not take place till a fortnight later. 
 
 We have now a servant with a seven years' character, and 
 the consequence is everything is much cheaper, albeit she is 
 not a good bargainer. Of course, though we do not quarrel, 
 we have plenty of misunderstandings. We have changed our 
 butcher, and gained a penny per pound ; ditto laundress, 
 and saved nearly a dollar a week. In short, Jane, whatever 
 be her political principles, is a practical reformer ; and I 
 look on with a Conservative eye, lest the spirit of change 
 should go on madly too far, and I be Skeltoned like the rest. 
 
 As for " chimney ornaments " (except a very tall, long, 
 nosed gentleman in black, remarkably like our English 
 " devil," who sweeps for all Coblenz), we have not even a 
 chimney-piece. The climbing boy here is really one of the 
 finest men in the place. He sweeps the chimney, — the long 
 iron pipes of the stoves are cleared by a live Friesland hen, 
 a sort of fowl which has its feathers turned back the -wrong 
 way. When she is in the pipe a fire is made, and the heat 
 forces her to make her way into the chimney with the soot 
 among her ruffled feathers. She then cries " grauch- 
 schlacht !" which is the German for "all up !" and this is 
 at least as true as some bits of Von Raumer. 
 
 I am writing this gossip partly to amuse Mrs. Dilke. The 
 barber-surgeon I settled with thus : He wrote that in con- 
 sideration that I might not be able to afford it, he consented 
 to take one dollar instead of two. To which I replied, that 
 I merely resisted an imposition, and should hand over the 
 difference to the poor. This I did to the poor of Arzheim,
 
 140 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 near Ehrenbreitstein, where 280 have sufiFered from scarlet 
 fever ; and a subscription was opened by public appeal from 
 the over-burgomaster of Coblenz, and is now closed, after 
 two months' collection, having raised twelve pounds ! — a 
 smallish amount for a city containing a governor-general, 
 two commandants, over and under-presidents, ditto burgo- 
 masters, and about twenty-five to thirty carriage families, 
 and many rich tradesmen : but these are anything but the 
 honest, conscientious, liberal, orderly, warm-hearted, intel- 
 lectual Germans we give the country just credit for. The 
 Coblenzers have other attributes. To return to my leech- 
 gatherer. I do not intend to want again either physician or 
 apothecary. I am no believer in astrological conjunctions, 
 but I must insist on a sinister aspect in that case ; — a Jew 
 doctor playing into the hands of his brother-in-law, the 
 apothecary, who has been described beforehand by " Gil 
 Bias," viz. : " He goes strictly to mass, but at the bottom of 
 his heart he is a Jew, like Pilate, for he has become Catholic 
 through interest." 
 
 As Jews must not be apothecaries here, and Hebrews do 
 not forgive apostacy in their own brothers even, I fear their 
 good understanding must be allowed to be ominous. Now 
 for a bit of farce in one of the same tribe. He came to me 
 to draw up an advertisement for him in English, on the 
 strength of which, I suppose, he has set up here as Professor 
 of Philosophy and English. Franck knows an officer who 
 has learned, and he cannot understand his English at all. 
 The officer will have his revenge when he has to drill the 
 Professor ! We are now more au fait here, but we have to 
 fight every inch. I am now in health and spirits and do 
 not mind it ; but I wish, for the sake of the lovely country 
 I am now able to enjoy, I could come to other conclusions. 
 1 am not writing from spleen or prejudice, or resentment at
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 141 
 
 the loss of money, but to give you my cool and deliberate 
 impressions for your guidance ; and a resident has peculiar 
 opportunities for observation. Prejudice be hanged ! and 
 I will help to pull its legs. But I want fair play for my 
 countrymen, against whom there is much illiberal feeling, 
 which is the more annoying, because Germans from other 
 parts, who think well of us, are surprised to find opinion 
 against us on the Rhine where it would be presumed we are 
 so well known. As a sample of what I mean, there is 
 Schreiber's sketch of "Die Englander in Baden" referred 
 to in your No. 431 of the "Athenasum," which I wish had 
 fallen to my lot to review. I would have answered him with 
 facts. The charge that the rectitude of many of the English 
 is not to be uniformly depended upon is a grave one, on 
 which I might retort fairly from my own experience as equi- 
 valent to his; and choose for my motto, in a new sense, 
 " Beware — for there are counterfeits abroad." With few 
 exceptions, judging from those I have had to do with, I 
 should put them in two great classes, — Jew Germans, and 
 German Jews. It may seem a harsh verdict, but it is forced 
 upon me. As for the English quarrelling about coachmen's 
 fares, &c., it is hardly worthy a traveller to squabble about 
 petty over-charges, but extortions may become too gross and 
 palpable to put up with. There is all along shore here, now- 
 a-days at least, a sharking, grasping appetite, which growing 
 by what it feeds on, has become ogre-like ; and knowing the 
 English to be rich, they have not known where, prudently, 
 or with good policy, to stop. There was a colonel here, the 
 other day only, crying out, naturally, at being charged in 
 this cheap country five shillings for a bed ; the landlord of 
 the hotel in question, chose at the Carnival to burlesque an 
 English family travelling : he has told me, the Enghsh are 
 by far his best customers, but the ridicule was congenial to
 
 142 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 the spirit of the inhabitants. The truth is, we are marked 
 for plunder ; and laughed at, for the facility with which we 
 are plucked, as if it were a matter of difficulty to cheat 
 those, who in some degree confide in you — for we do gene- 
 rally set forth with a strong prepossession in favour of 
 German honesty. I believe in it myself, but not here, where 
 the very peasantry (whom I like) seem to lose it. The other 
 day a woman, who used to sell us a sort of curd cheese, 
 taking advantage of Fanny, who carried the money, took 
 six instead of three groschen, and has never since put in an 
 appearance. Again, a man, who left a flower for Jane's 
 approval, who declined it, called for it over night quite 
 drunk, took it away, brought it back next morning, and 
 made her pay for it because a bud was broken ! these two 
 are withhi ten days. Schreiber taunts residents like our- 
 selves with " a petty and ridiculous economy," but it is mere 
 resistance to extortion directed pointedly against the English. 
 I never will concede that the rule, that we are to be robbed, 
 only because we are, or are supposed to be, rich, is anything 
 but a brigand feeling. Yet so it is. There is a separate 
 tariff, well-understood, and tacitly acted upon, so that you 
 shall see an English and German gentleman sitting at the 
 same table d'hote, eating the same dinner, and drinking the 
 same wine, but at very different costs ! It is quite a free- 
 masonry, and the very figures in the carte stand for several 
 amounts. One night we sent for a bill of fare for supper, 
 and De Franck pointed out to me roast beef (in English), 
 four groschen, and directly under it, the same dish (in 
 German), three groschen. These things are somewhat repul- 
 sive to those who happen to be their guests, should they 
 chance to find besides that their character is attacked as 
 unfairly as their purse. I hiow that they retail stories about 
 us, which have falsehood on the face of them, such as the
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS EOOD. 143 
 
 Bible story in Schreiber, which is altogether out of keeping. 
 As to our getting into rows and trespassing, I used to watch 
 the steamer's airival, and never saw a disturbance, but with 
 a Geiinan lady, accused by the steward of secreting a spoon. 
 But that Englishmen might get into rows I think very pos- 
 sible, and natural ; I expect it myself. The lower class, not 
 mere thieves and vagabonds like Londoners, but appren- 
 tices, workmen, and boys almost well-dressed, are black- 
 guardly disposed. 
 
 Fishing has brought me in contact with them. I have 
 never been without annoyance, and it is positively unsafe to 
 stand within pelt of the Moselle bridge. Those officers, who 
 have taken to it after our example at Ehrenbreitstein, have 
 positively had to post men to defend them from large sticks 
 and stones. I hope, as the clown says, here be /ads. Good 
 or bad politically, the making all men soldiers serves to lick 
 these cubs into human shape ; it makes them cut their hair, 
 wash themselves, and behave decently, in fact as Puckler 
 Muskau says, the men, who have served, and those who 
 have not, are different animals indeed. I wish I could with 
 honesty write more in the tone of Mrs. Trollope, whose book, 
 by the way, I have just read ; but although, so treacley, it 
 does not please the natives. Heaven knows why, for she 
 does not object to one thing in Prussia, but the smoking. 
 She is, however, wrong there in one point, as may be gathered 
 from the pretty strong sentiments she puts into the mouths 
 of the German girls against pipes. A likely matter when 
 they have been used to snifl" •' haclcy " from the father, who 
 took them first on his knees, to the brother they played 
 with. 
 
 Ou the contrary, and quite the reverse, they embroider 
 tobacco bags for presents to the young gentlemen, as English 
 girls knit purses. But so Anti-English a writer as Mrs. T.,
 
 144 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 who never omits an opportunity of letting down her country- 
 men, might be expected to be blind to the Anti-English 
 feeling abundant in these parts. There is no doubt of its 
 existence, I manage to read their papers, and the tone is 
 the same. 
 
 Extracts, for example, headed, "Distress in Rich England." 
 Like " the haughty Isle of shopkeepers," a phrase made use 
 of by Schreiber. 'Tis the mark of the beast ; they covet 
 our riches, they resent our political influence, and perhaps 
 are jealous of the distinction shown to the English in some 
 of the highest quarters. In spite of Raumer (a jewel by the 
 way) I think the spirit enters into our commerce. 
 
 The merchant here I had your wine of, said he did not 
 hope for any reduction of our duties on their wines, because 
 the Prussian Tariff is so very unfavourable to us. Our 
 goods are in request, so that even they simulate English 
 labels, &c., &c., but I think their introduction is not coveted 
 by the powers. My little package was detained some time 
 at the frontier, on the frivolous pretext, that the weight of 
 every article, a fish-hook for instance, was not specified. I 
 believe the tariff is also averse to French and Italians ; all 
 I know is, many of their products are bad and dear : say, 
 oranges from two pence halfpenny to 3c/. a piece ; salad oil 
 dear and execrable, <fec., <fcc. And now to Schreiber again ; 
 I take this for my text-book, because he represents the mass. 
 Their usual ridicule of our habits, (kc, might fairly and with 
 interest be retaliated. For instance, an Englishman with 
 coat-pockets " big enough to hold a couple of folios" is no 
 more ridiculous a figure than a German with ditto capacious 
 enough for a pipe and a bag of tobacco ; but this far from 
 unusual sneer at our literary and reading propensity is some- 
 what misplaced in Intellectual Germany, the country of Goethe. 
 A book here seems a bugbear. I think I told you of the
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 145 
 
 remark of the Jew Doctor on seeing a " Times " paper ; in 
 the same style my new Doctor took up the "Athenseum," 
 supposing it to be a monthly. 
 
 When I said, weekly, he threw up his hands and eyes, and 
 ■wondered how we found time for it. Time, however, is the 
 thing least wanted here, for they do not live at our rate, 
 and consequently have more leisure ; but it is not " learned 
 leisure," from simple want of will. They prefer the Virginian 
 to other leaves, and volumes of smoke. The " Rlieiu und 
 Mosel Zeitung" supply them with abundant reading, and its 
 standing articles, probably therefore favourite ones, are on 
 beet-root, sugar, and rail-roads. Their talk is of thalers, 
 thalers, thalers, except when they smoke in the hotels of a 
 night, or at the Casino, and then the Quakers could not hold 
 a more silent Conversazione. 
 
 Galignani is prohibited, and the only English papers 
 allowed are the "Globe," "Courier," and the "Albion" or 
 some such name. So much for the Intellectuals. Person- 
 ally I cannot complain, for a Colonel has translated my 
 " Eugene x\ram " for his wife, having heard of it through 
 Bulwer's novel : Bulwer (who is a demi-god here) and the 
 Pfennig Magazine, and native works on medicine and mecha- 
 nical arts, are the main bulk advertised here, but I guess 
 not much sold. Another fact, and I quit the subject. The 
 extorting spirit is known, and admitted by some of the 
 better class — Jane, at request from the other side, has 
 
 formed a very agreeable intimacy with a Miss von B , 
 
 ■who was educated at Nieuwied, and speaks tolerable English. 
 She volunteered to accompany Jane to buy anything, saying 
 she knew the English were imposed on, aud informed her, 
 
 that her late father, a lieutenant-general, paid Dr at 
 
 the rate of ten silber groschen or a shilling a visit. He 
 
 charged me forty-five, or four shillings and sixpence a visit, 
 VOL. X. 10
 
 146 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 for being an Englishman. What follows is, I think, conclu- 
 sive as to what I have said of a sort of freemasonry, (fee. 
 I happened to doubt whether the majors and captains here 
 could afford to keep up such equipages on their pay, when 
 
 F referred me to another officer (of ancient Polish 
 
 family) I have met, and he frankly told me that they could. 
 But supposing a major with family, (kc, to make a certain 
 appearance, and live in a certain style on his pay, 2000 
 dollars, I must at once for the same things set down 1000 
 more for being an Englishman. 
 
 It follows that tradesmen, inn-keepers, all who have to do 
 with the English, exact a profit of 33 per cent, extra, and 
 yet cannot be pleased with their customers. Suppose some 
 English Schreiber, in inditing a sketch of the German 
 watering-places, were to adopt the portentous text of " take 
 care of your pockets." Suppose he were to end his book 
 with a sarcastic hint of Sir Peter Teazle, " I must go, but 
 I leave my character behind me 1 " I give you the facts, 
 because in the "Athenaeum" you are sometimes called upon 
 as a judge, between the natives of both countries, as in 
 Schreiber's case. I do not want, like Jonathan in England, 
 " a war, and all on my own account," nor Irish-like to 
 whiten the English by blackening the Germans. Above all, 
 I speak only of what I have seen and know, or have heard 
 from good witnesses, and my locale is Coblenz ; though the 
 same thing may prevail on the other routes of the English, 
 pro ex. Baden. It is for you that I have set it down, and 
 I beg you to believe, in no spite, or resentment, or prejudice ; 
 but to put you on your guard, and prepare you for perhaps 
 a very altered state of things on the Rhine, not belonging 
 more to the natives than to human nature, except in degree. 
 But I wished justice for my countrymen, and disclaim per- 
 sonal vengeance, though I confess to have felt irritation.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. K7 
 
 The toue of my book will be quite otherwise, I know it is 
 unwelcome to read as to write such passages, and especially 
 to introduce such actors on such a stage, with the Rhine and 
 its mountains for the scenery. And moreover there is good 
 and beautiful and whimsical to discourse of pleasantly, so 
 pray read the foregoing in the same spirit that its author 
 writ, and then hand over the substance of my remarks to 
 the censor to be used " as occasion may require." Fair play 
 is a jewel, and I like to see it set in the "Athenseum." 
 Besides I do not know your Editor personally, but I suspect 
 him of a little overleaning towards the Germans. I picture 
 him with " an awful fell of hair," and a serio-comico-meta- 
 physico-romantico visage, moulded in brown bread made 
 rather heavy, a big body made dropsically corpulent by 
 fattening on thin wine, and a pair of stout legs of no 
 particular shape, on which he partly walks, partly marches, 
 having been drilled when a student. Like Pope and Cowper, 
 and others of the learned, he wears a cap ; but with a con- 
 ceited cock on one side, and hangs a tassel from its apex. 
 Ou his forefinger, a huge ring with an engraved stone or 
 
 glass, that might serve Mrs. von D at a pinch for a 
 
 jelly mould ; and he has chains enough on his bosom to 
 hang him in. His waistcoat seems cut out of the train of 
 Iris's court-dress, set off by a snuff- brown coat, and sad- 
 gi-een breeches — a sort of hybrid between a peacock and 
 Minerva's fowl — grave and gaudy. When he eats, he prefers 
 after soup the meat that was boiled in it — a mere residuum 
 — like the patent ginless bread of Pimlico. He seasons it 
 with mud-coloured mustai-d. He drinks a wine so sharp, 
 that like the "Accipe Hoc^" of the Templar, it pierces your 
 very vitals. When he is awake he dreams, when he is 
 asleep he snores music, that, as Zelter says, by its very noise 
 " reminds you of the universal silence ! " If he look pensive
 
 148 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 it is because he cannot fathom the immeasurable, grasp the 
 infinite, or comprehend the incomprehensible. Should he 
 be a little cracked he writes — when he gets purblind he 
 paints, and you have the portrait of his mistress the Muse, 
 as a little old woman with red toads dropping out of her 
 mouth. Poet or Painter, he tries to be sublime, and makes 
 a monster a " most ridiculous monster," or rather a herd of 
 monsters, and makes them act monstrously, like the fan- 
 tastic shadows in Carpenter's microscope, supposing you had 
 mixed their drop of water with a ditto of brandy. If he 
 smiles, it is with the idea of " reading much, learning much, 
 and dying young ! " by a horse-pistol with a leaf out of 
 Bettine for wadding. Whilst he smokes he pastoralises ; 
 drunk, he moralises ; sober, he romanticises ; mad, he philo- 
 sophises. There Wolfgang vou Dilke there's a rally d la 
 Randall, in return for your fighting me up into a German 
 corner. By the bye, your notices made me long to read Yon 
 Raumer's England. It must be a capital book, but me- 
 thinks he is apt to make azure of Prussian blue. Yet when 
 I spoke of him here to our doctor, he seemed not to like 
 him, and said he was considered a Jacobin. For example, 
 too much credit is taken as to their contented and tolerant 
 clergy. For instance, here, this is a Catholic province ; the 
 magistrates and a few more Lutherans must tolerate per- 
 force a whole population nearly of unrefomaed. Pi'ussia is 
 formed of many provinces, some oughts, and some crosses, 
 like the old game on the slate, and to be intolerant would 
 be only to set one province against another, " hey dog — hey 
 bull ! " so that it would be dangerous for one party to tyran- 
 nise over the other. 
 
 A thing occurred here the other day, that made a great 
 sensation ; the priest or cure refused to bury a drawing- 
 master, who professed, but had not attended his church for
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 149 
 
 many years. He said he was forbidden by the rules of the 
 Council of Trent. The Lutheran minister was appUed to, 
 who buried him at once, and as it is usual to preach a 
 funei'al sermon for each defunct, the following Sunday his 
 church was crowded with Catholics, Jews, and all denomina- 
 tions, who were eager and curious to hear how he would 
 treat the subject. He preached a good temperate sermon 
 on the text "Judge not, that ye be not judged," which 
 made a great impression. The plan here, which is good, is 
 that of both religions the ministers are paid by the King or 
 State, an aiTangement I should like for England and Ireland, 
 or let every one pay their own, as in America. As to Educa- 
 tion, I think our Government does wisely not to interfere 
 too rashly. Something may be left to the sense of the 
 people. The infamous boarding-schools of former times are 
 dying or dead, and replaced by proprietary ones without 
 Government intei'ference. If they meddle, let it be to 
 reform Oxford, and the like ; and, least of all, let us have 
 the School a dependant on the Church, — with a Parson- 
 Usher in each, preaching and teaching German philosophical 
 "spiritualism," and "illumination and sauctification," which 
 " reaches far beyond steam engines and hydraulic presses." 
 
 But even Von Raumer is not reliable. Come lay your 
 Frankfort hand, just above your Heidelberg or Darmstadt 
 stomach, on your Dresden heart, and tell us with your 
 Miinchen mouth, do you really believe the stoiy of the 
 factory boy's lament for pigs and poetry ? Did you ever 
 with your Ingelheimer eyes, on the Royal birthday in 
 London, see the innumerable children with flowers and flags, 
 or hear with your Langen Schwalbach ears their chorus of 
 "God save the King"? Again, did you never hear with 
 your Berlin auriculars, that row of street blackguard boys 
 notorious througliout Germany, and characteristic of the
 
 150 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Prussian capital, which Von R. with his natural taste for 
 music calls " the prattle of little children"? 
 
 As for his quizzes on our cookery (Mrs. Dilke, I am 
 appealing to you and your old cook, who went away and is 
 come back again), is English soup so sloppy that it must 
 hide its weakness by a covering of pepper and spice 1 Lord 
 help the man ! he has been souping with the Sick Poor ! I 
 never saw any soup or broth in England but when cold was 
 a perfect jelly, "as you might chuck over the house." As 
 for his pepperless rice soup, chacun a son gout, but was not 
 Bedreddin Hassan capitally sentenced for not putting pepper 
 in a cream-tart 1 What does he mean by the " monotony 
 of our roast beef, roast mutton, roast veal" 1 Why should 
 not roast beef be roast beef, and always roast beef, like "the 
 bill, the whole bill, and nothing but the bill " ? I like that 
 decided style. Is it any better for being, as here, roast horse, 
 or, with rank oil, and turned butter, sometimes like roast " sea 
 liorse " ] Is Williams' boiled beef any the worse for being 
 07ili/ boiled beef ; is it better for being here like land stock 
 fish ? Is our roast veal worse than theirs ? — how they roast 
 it is a culinary miracle, unless on a lark spit. Their seven- 
 day calves, and seven-year porkers ought, according to 
 Lamb's celebrated wish about his sister, to "throw theii 
 joint existences into one common heap !'' I defy you to ea' 
 their roast mutton here, without scriptural reminiscences of 
 rams and burnt offerings. And then for his sauce about 
 our one sauce, for fish, don't they make pickled salmon of 
 everything with scales, fresh or salt, with vinegar, vinegar, 
 vinegar ? As for his twaddle about Phidias and Praxiteles 
 being French cooks, and his comparison of our joints to 
 " an Egj^ptian divinity in simple dignified repose, with arms 
 and legs closely pinioned in the same position !" (he has 
 mistaken a trussed turkey for a »-ound of beef or a fillet of
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 151 
 
 veal), I will only say a village jobbing carpenter would be 
 ashamed of such a style ! Egyptian indeed ! don't they 
 poison everything with garlic, and consume Egyptian wages 
 (onions) enough to build a new set of pyramids 1 Now for 
 his Linnseus and Jussieu, if our vegetables do " appear in 
 puris naturalibus," is it not better than if they were in " im- 
 puris naturalibus," full of " snips and snails,'' and the huge 
 red slugs that crawl about here, in size and shape looking 
 like live German sausages ! How do thet/ dress vegetables 1 
 Why make salads of them first, and then boil them, or vice 
 versd. I do believe the " Devil sends cooks," and they are 
 German ones. The French are artists, the Germans are 
 daubers in cookery. They are (in all that is grub-berly) 
 lubberly, blubberly, and in regard to cleanliness, not over 
 scrubberly ! Wasn't I nearly choked once by fishbones 
 amongst a dish of fried potatoes 1 'Tis fact, and didn't I 
 Bee a starved dog refuse to take the place and portion of a 
 German gentleman unexpectedly absent from his accustomed 
 place at the table d'h6te ? Von Dilke be hanged ! Catch 
 him having a German cook at the Clarence ! Haven't their 
 own doctors discovered that their sausages contain an active 
 poison, and is not every one of their messes a slow one ? I 
 will stand up for our English Kitchen, especially now Jane is 
 a cook in it. Vive Dr. Kitchener ! if he isn't dead ; and an 
 
 echo responds from Diisseldorf, very like Mrs. L 's voice, 
 
 "Vive Dr. Kitchener!" When she last wrote to Jane she 
 was watching a hash with one eye, according to his " oracle." 
 Ask Head about German cookery, he says their sauces are 
 either always sour or greasy, but I have gone a step beyond 
 his experience, they can be sour and greasy too. And now 
 for a triumphant clincher as to the respective merits of 
 German and English cookery. There is a sort of mesalliance 
 that occurs in England sometimes ; uay I know personally
 
 152 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 of an instance, for W. C. married the woman that dressed 
 his dinner, but I have now before me " Der Preussische Staat, 
 in alien seiuen Beziehungen," an authentic work, and I can- 
 not find one instance of a German, who married his cook. 
 This is not prejudice but statistics ! But don't let this 
 frighten you, Mrs. Dilke, from coming here, lest you should 
 have to feast on pommes de terre /rites. Jane can stew, and 
 boil, and roast, and bake. You should hear her battering 
 her beefsteaks, as if they were the children, or see Tom walk 
 in with his little wig powdered or floui'ed, from his mother- 
 sick fit having interfered with her fit of pigeon-piety. You 
 should hear De Franck congratulating her on her high 
 health, or Miss von B. on her rosy English complexion, when 
 the real secret is fried chops. So I speak not complain- 
 ingly, but critically only, of the national cuisine. 
 
 You must come to the grand manoeuvres (end of August), 
 which will be well worth seeing. Better to see than be born 
 to, say you. De Franck amused us much with his descrip- 
 tion of drilling the Dominies. Every man here must be a 
 soldier, and two years is the rule ; but the schoolmasters 
 have the indulgence of only six weeks of it. But then in 
 those six weeks they are expected to become as proficient as 
 the '' two year olds," and accordingly they ai-e hard at it, 
 soldiering " from morn till dewy eve " — the poor sedentaries ! 
 Franck described them drawn up with round shoulders, bent 
 thighs, and other pedagogical attributes, so weak, and so 
 bewildered ! Sometimes an unluckly Dominie mounting 
 guard, has even to put up with the gibes, nay missiles, of 
 his quondam scholai*s, whom he cannot, for once, punish. 
 
 Is it nut laughable to picture to oneself? What a subject 
 for me ! I must make a new revolution at Stoke Pogis, 
 and let the mayor, having been up tlie Rhine, attempt to 
 form a Landwehr. Ycu know the place, Dilke ; just fancy
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 153 
 
 Dominie Sarapsou, with a musket on his shoulder, standing 
 at ease on Ehrenbreitstein. 
 
 Pray tell Mr. Reynolds* what he has escaped by being 
 born, as Dr. Watts says, in a Christian land. He is an 
 excellent Blue, but would not turn up well with Red. What 
 a "six weeks' vacation 1" What a march of mind for the 
 schoolmasters abroad ! It must seem to them like a night- 
 mare dxeam, till assured of the reality, by feeling instead 
 of the long flowing locks, affected here by the student, the 
 bald regulation nape. The situation must seem as be- 
 wildei-ing as Dr. Pangloss' with a tulip-eared bull puppy 
 between his knees. Fancy Westminsterian Braine learning 
 
 the "brain-spattering art." Imagine Dr. G mounting 
 
 guard at the Mint, or Principal standing sentinel by 
 
 the Regent's bomb, whistling " Lawk a mercy on us, sure 
 this be not I," with a pantomime change in the distance, 
 of the London University into Sandhurst College. Our 
 doctoi-'s son is doing duty as a private in De Franck's 
 regiment, so is the son of another M.D., and they are 
 under no slight apprehension of having to carry a knapsack 
 at the review. How shoiild you like a taste of that same ? 
 Imagine yourself wanting to march in tlwee divisions, in 
 
 request by Lord Hill, H , and Mr. Jack Junk, at the 
 
 same time. Fancy Wentworth dancing at one of his 
 mothei-'s genteelest parties in the uniform of a private of 
 the Tower Hamlets. And what a review you would make, 
 mind, not a criticism. Yourself, with your eye-glass in the 
 Rifles ; Cunningham in the Grenadiers ; Chorley in the 
 
 band ; H in the Artillery ; T a Lancer ; the stout 
 
 C in the "Light Bobs;" and John F a "worthy 
 
 Pioneer." Alas ! for the " Athenaeum," Mrs. Dilke would 
 
 * My grandfather, head -wTiting-master at Christ's Hospital. — T. H.
 
 154 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 have to be a suttler ! By the bye, we got our present lodg- 
 iiigs in spite of the captain of the — th, who would have 
 given five dollars a year more ; but his wife, a termagant, 
 was w^ell known as the " suttler," (her nickname amongst 
 the military), and our landlord would not have her at any price. 
 I hope Jane won't lower his rent still further. • * * * 
 
 There are some here, in appearance to the eye, anything 
 but gentlemen, in the best sense of the word. You cannot 
 mistake them. 
 
 Perhaps they have got the worse attributes of the French 
 Revolution, a nominal equality/, which puts the low, base, 
 vulgar, and rich on a false level with " God Almighty's 
 gentleman," which rank I do seek with all my heart ; and 
 endeavour that the English character shall not suffer at mr 
 hands ; and though I resent, on public grounds, what I meet 
 with, I am content to be a dweller here, whose character is 
 to be judged by its own merits. But I feel the question 
 gravely, and recommend it to your consideration. / may be 
 
 prejudiced, but F is a good witness. Give me credit 
 
 for honesty, when he tells you he as readily fights, what you 
 may call my prejudices, as those of the Germans. After all, 
 cui bono, what I write ? Why, after all, I appeal to the 
 " Athenseum," because it is as free from party and from pre- 
 judice as myself, and no more. There's a hit for you, Big 
 Ben, in answer to your " right-hander." 
 
 Besides it has, and must have, an influence from its 
 honesty, impartiality, and ability, and therefore, with all my 
 humble three dittos, I endeavour to give it the benefit of 
 my views. 
 
 W , the other officer, says the same thing of the 
 
 Pthenishers. 
 
 He calls them "m^chant," and says they are a much better 
 sort of people elsewhere. He says, moreover, that some
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 165 
 
 Germans, lately returned from Switzerland, have made the 
 observation, that the people there are corrupted and dete- 
 riorated, in the same way as I judge them to be partly here. 
 Tliere are two subjects which form handles against us, and 
 are rather fiivourite topics here, — Ireland, — and the Duke 
 of Wellington's remarks on the discipline of the Prussian 
 arnay, — which have provoked much angry discussion. 
 
 As for Ireland, I am glad to see there is a chance of 
 righting her at last, but what a sorry figure do some of the 
 Peers cut ? 
 
 I have just got the ** Athenaeum" containing Raumer. He 
 is very flattering to us in some things, but his true picture of 
 Ireland gives one pain, abroad, — to think what foreigners must 
 conceive of our wisdom or government. I doubt, however, of 
 the wisdom of retui'ning for a remedy to the good old times 
 when "mendicant monks imparted their goods to the poor." He 
 learnt to hull in Ireland, seemingly. Again, I do not clearly 
 understand whether the " unhappy nation that has been for 
 four-and -forty years seeking for liberty in all directions," 
 refers to France or England. But, in either case, I do not 
 agree with this prescription of " moderation, contentedness 
 and humility," by which I understand a sort of waiters on 
 Providence, gaping for "a thrice happy Prussian's'' condition, 
 a "free proprietary peasantry, — a contented and tolerant 
 clergy, and well educated youth," at the hands of the Tories 
 or their equivalents. But I, perhaps, misunderstand him, — 
 the issue being to be Murrayan, gave me the impression. 
 The two countries are widely different ; what a good, absolute 
 King can do here, cannot be done with us. If our peasantry 
 were free and proprietary, I think they would work as hard 
 and be as contented as the Germans. But the English 
 labourer, labour as he may, can but be a pauper ; and it 
 seems a little unreasonable to require him to sit at Hope's
 
 156 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 or Content's table, eating nothing^ with the same cheerful- 
 ness and gaiety as the barber's brother at the Barmecide's 
 feast. 
 
 They have just canned by, in procession, with boys, two 
 and two, a dead schoolmaster ! Poor fellow ; have they 
 drilled him to death, or is he a deserter by anticipation ? 
 What a new translation they have of "cedant arma iogce T^ 
 How would Othello's pathetic f\\rewell to arms read to a 
 Prussian Pedagogue? Methinks he would have the black 
 boy well horsed for it. Well ! poor * * * * is gone, and, 
 parodying Coleridge's apostrophe on the death of the 
 Dominie, " May he be wafted to heaven by disembodied 
 
 spirits that are no Corporals ! " 
 
   *   • 
 
 We have had several little excursions. One to the Laacher 
 Zee, amongst the volcanic mountains. We went on Whit- 
 Monday, but it ought to have been Js/i-Wednesday, con- 
 sidering the soil of the road we went through. Their proper 
 scavengers would have been Cinderellas. The walls and 
 houses thereabouts are built with lava, and the lake itself is 
 supposed to occupy an extinct crater. What a lovely, little, 
 secluded lake it is, embosomed in trees, and perched on the 
 crest of a mountain ; not like an eagle's nest, but a water 
 " Roc's." It is said to be, in the middle, 200 yards deep, 
 and the water is supernaturally clear. We fished, but of 
 course could catch nothing, though there be huge Jack and 
 Perch ; in truth, as I could see my line from the top, of 
 course they could see it at the bottom. There is a decayed 
 church and cloisters, and the monkery and gardens afford 
 delightful residence. There is also a referendarius here who 
 does not care for it, what a taste ! He is seldom there. It 
 is a delicious spot. I honour the olden monks for the taste 
 with which they pitched their tents. Methought as I
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 157 
 
 walked in their cloisters I could have been willingly a Bene- 
 dictine myself, especially when I saw a pair of huge antlers 
 over one of the doors, — like a sign of " good venison within." 
 We have booked this place for you to visit, when you come. 
 Indeed, we thought of you, at our " champetre," and drank 
 your healths in our wine, for as the " hospitallers " have 
 quitted, we had to carry our cold baked meats with us. The 
 return was through a country reminding me of some of the 
 romantic parts of Scotland, but on a larger scale and more 
 diversely wooded. Through mountain-passes, and by rapid 
 winding trout-streams, we suddenly came to Tbnneusteiu ; a 
 little Brunnen in a lovely glen. I asked the priestess, (a 
 buxom young damsel (in a Cologne cap, which you know is 
 somewhat like a muslin soup-plate) very gravely whether the 
 water was good for a man " with a wife and children," and 
 she replied as gravely in the affirmative, handing me a glass 
 of bubble without squeal'. "With wine and sugar, it drinks 
 like champagne, but it is good neat. But, Lord ! what an 
 effervescing, gunpowder plot of ground do we Germans live 
 upon ! I scarcely seem safer than your brother at Chichester, 
 Every spring beneath us seems boiling hot, or boiling cold. 
 And if I was a freeholder, I should feel some quakings in 
 reckoning all between the sky and the earth's centre as my 
 own. I should certainly content myself with tilling the 
 upper crust of the soil instead of being too curious in 
 mining. Bless us all ! should our Teutonic Terra be seized 
 with active inflammation in her stomachic regions, instead of 
 the evident chronic one she sufFei-s under ! If we have any 
 living Saurians, below, as the Rev. Kirby opines, they must 
 be salamanders. How little do the infant Germans, with an 
 eruption on all their heads, dream of another that may 
 happen under their feet. We have been once or twice to 
 Lahnstein, a favourite resort here, on the river Lahu, where
 
 158 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 we have obtained the credit of fishing with "a spell," on 
 account of our success ; when the old native anglers had 
 failed, simply because we fished at the top and they at the 
 bottom. They have no notion of fly-fishing. The only 
 attempt we ever saw was a Captain of Engineers gravely 
 fishing in the Moselle with a hackle^y and a worm, at once ; 
 but the infancy of his art may excuse the tops and bottoms. 
 For the sake of Mrs. Dilke, I must relate two adventures at 
 
 Lahnstein, the first almost as laughable as Mr. L 's. 
 
 Whilst we were fishing, — all of a sudden I missed De Franck, 
 but spied him at last up to his neck in the middle of two 
 rocks between which he had slipped in jumping from one to 
 another. He made a strange figure when he came out, — 
 the best lay figure for a River-god imaginable, — for German 
 sporting jackets have an infinity of pockets, and there was a 
 separate jet of water from every one, as well as from his 
 sleeves, trousers, and each spout of his drowned moustachios 
 (N.B. they're very long). He did not seem much improved, 
 when, having gone to the Inn, he returned in a suit of the 
 landlord's, who, though twice as tall, was not half so stout. 
 However, we did not care for appearances, for we thought 
 nobody would notice him, as it was not a holiday, and there 
 was no company. But we were mistaken. The landlord's 
 dog snifi'ed a robbery, and knowing his master's clothes 
 again, insisted on stripping the counterfeit, and was obliged 
 to be pulled off vi et armis. The landlord was very much 
 distressed, and made a thousand apologies : and, to do him 
 justice, was a very obliging, honest, reasonable fellow, and 
 certainly deserved to be paid better than with his own money, 
 out of his own waistcoat pocket, by De Franck, as we dis- 
 covered afterwards. This was the comic part, now for the 
 tragic. In the meanwhile, Jane, whose legs are not so ele- 
 phantine as they were, you will readily suppose, made shift 
 
 I 
 
 I
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 169 
 
 to scramble, with Miss Von B , up to the ruined castle 
 
 of Lahn-eck. 
 
 Having seen everything on its old ground-floor, female 
 curiosity prevailing over female fear, tempted them up a 
 dilapidated staircase to one of the mouldering attics ; and 
 then, how unfortunately fortunate ! some half-dozen of the 
 topmost stairs caught the contagion of curiosity, and paid 
 a visit to the cellars. You may imagine the duet that 
 ensued in a very high key— but as you know I am deaf and 
 De Franck was more intent on the perch below, than on the 
 perch above, it was, consequently, a long hour (Jane says six) 
 before they were rescued, heartily sick, you may be sure, of 
 the local and the vocal. They swear they will never ascend 
 any more old ruins again, so I suppose the next time we 
 shall have to hoist them out of some old. subterranean. 
 
 However, the event has supplied a new lay or legend of 
 the Rhine — only in my version, after a lapse of half a 
 century, two female skeletons were found on the battle- 
 ments, with their mouths wide open.* 
 
 These excursions have done me good every way, and 
 joined to a rule of going out every practicable evening to 
 fish in the Rhine or Moselle by way of exercise, have restored 
 me to some strength. I have prospered in health ever since 
 the great effusion of blood — in fact, had I been well bled at 
 first, all would have been saved. My friends may now be 
 easy about me — and all the rest are well. Jane and Fanny 
 mean to bathe at a bath-house on the Rhine bridge. It is 
 very healthy and pleasant, only the tow-rope of a barge took 
 off the whole roof, and so frightened the female dippers, that 
 some of them ran out and fainted on the bridge. 
 
 * My father subsequently worked up this incident into a very thrilling 
 fcketch in the "New Monthly," entitled "The Tower of Lahneck," see 
 'Complete Works."— I. H.
 
 160 MEMOKIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 The bath man and bath woman, concerned for their sub- 
 scribers, very wisely restored them by carrying them all in 
 again — one by one. 
 
 I am glad you liked the wine, but you must come here for 
 the next. You may drink my improvement in Art with all 
 my heart — but as to my sketch, the distinctness you object 
 to is characteristic, and peculiar in Spring. 
 
 I am as clear as to that, as the atmosphere. De Franck 
 and I verified that you could see the smoke of a pipe beyond 
 the Moselle. De Franck made the remark the other day, 
 that it was like " seeing through a glass." In fact, I have 
 once or twice neglected my spectacles from not feeling the 
 want of them. You must see it to believe it, I grant. Why 
 I almost fancy myself an eagle, or at least a Dolloud, as I 
 look along the mxOuntainous horizon with the minutest 
 shrubbery defined on it. I recollect, especially last year, 
 when T came up the Rhine, I felt almost tliat I had seen 
 gnomes and fairies — the people at work on the face of the 
 mountains, looked so distinct and yet so small, they appeared 
 literal dwarfs — for want of that medium mistiness which 
 ordinarily signifies distance. The only conviction you had, 
 sensually, of their being so remote was from the silence : 
 you saw, but you could not hear, the blows of their pick- 
 axes, (fee. The effect is really miraculous. My eyes seemed 
 well washed with fairy euphrasy ; methought, what a pure 
 element it must be that we German fishes now swim in ! as 
 good for the lungs as the " Lung Arno." Some of us find it 
 too pure if taken neat, and so mix it with smoke. 
 
 N.B. The defunct, lately carried by with " dirges due," 
 was not a schoolmaster, but a butcher, whose widow had 
 borrowed the boys to give eclat.. The Spanish general, 
 Spinola, died " of having nothing to do," and I suppose Lent 
 killed the Flesher. That same Lent was a hoiTid invention.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 161 
 
 at least for inland towns. I hope it is not the bad fish, but 
 
 they are dying here on all hands, — two or three children a 
 
 day. Thank God, we seem in a little Goschen, all well ! 
 
 But we have had an omen, at least equal to a raven on the 
 
 chimney-pot. The children are just come in from a walk, 
 
 and a strange doctor stopped Fanny, and talked to her iu the 
 
 street ! 
 
 * • • • 
 
 I have never had any of the vulgar insane di-ead of the 
 Catholics. It appears to me too certain that they are 
 decaying at the core, and by the following natural process : — 
 men take a huge stride at first from Catholicism into Infide- 
 lity, like the French, and then by a short step backwards in 
 a reaction, attain the juste milieu. You see I philosophise, 
 but it is in the air of Germany ; only I do not smoke 
 with it. 
 
 I cannot help agreeing with Von Raumer about English 
 music; I am deaf and have heard as little good as he; but 
 why sneer at our buying better 1 if we purchased Italian, we 
 paid lately the same compliment to the German. I believe 
 in their " real music,'' but as for their " real song" I have a 
 creed that the "sickly sentimentality" is as much a cha- 
 r: cteristic of the best German as the worst English. As for 
 our painters, whom he despises, let him show me a German 
 Turner (except of the stomach), a Stanfield, an Etty, a 
 Stump, a Gump. They are as unheard of as our musicians, 
 except a notorious German, who daubed for George the 
 Fourth. But when were the German artists pictorially 
 great with pen or pencil ? Fuseli represented both classes. 
 In their sublimest they introduce the ridiculous, whereas a 
 rale genuine Kentuckian in his ridiculous approaches the 
 sublime. I would rather, as to style, prefer the last. Fair 
 play's a jewel : if you want examples, I'll give them to you 
 
 VOL. X. 11
 
 ^62 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 out of Goethe himself. We had a specimen of their fine 
 arts yesterday, on a flag carried before a funeral : on one 
 side was a Virgin and Child, both dark, mulatto, as if in- 
 clining to Lord Monboddo's theory that Adam was black, or 
 half-and-half — whereas, on the other side was a bishop, in 
 pontificalibus, blessing three little children in a literal wash- 
 ing tub,* washed as fair as an English mother could desire — 
 as Jane, for instance. This is fact, and it is as fair to judge 
 from it as from the drawings of lap-dogs and poodles at our 
 Society of Arts, an imbecility long since marked down as a 
 subject for the " Comic " — with that void Aiken, at his head 
 or tail, whom Coleridge used to compare to an " Aching 
 void !" Apropos of Art, in the palace here ; in the concert- 
 room, there was to have been a series of frescoes from the 
 "Last Judgment" of Rubens, very appropriate supposing 
 the orchestra all trumpets. But as the laws of acoustics only 
 had been neglected, the concert-room was abandoned, and it is 
 now devoted to the sittings of assize when the frescoes would 
 be of some relevance, and accordingly they are not there. 
 I have this on the authority of Schreiber, the guide-man, 
 noticed shortly before Raumer, to whom I owe a grudge and 
 will pay it. As the Americans say, if they poke their fun at 
 me, I will poke again. 
 
 • This was a representation of St. Nicholas restoring to life the "Three 
 Young Men of Noble Family," who got into a literal pickle, vide legends 
 passim. St. Nicholas was the favourite saint with us children, for, on the 
 eve of his day, we used to put our shoes outside the bedroom door, and his 
 Reverence was believed to have filled them in the night with the toys, &c. , 
 we discovered in them the next day. I believe, but won't confess to any 
 experience, that a child who had been naughty, generally found a rod in 
 his slipper in lieu of the toys. It is almost to be wished that the German 
 tree had brought over the St. Nicholas' day custom with it as a branch. — 
 T. H. 
 
 '
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 163 
 
 I am hard at work at my " Comic," somewhat puzzled for 
 Bubjects, as most of my foreign ones must go to the German 
 book, which I want to make as good as possible. 
 
 I do get the " Athenaeum,'' though somewhat more tardily 
 than formerly, and it is a great treat. It ought to be very 
 successful. We admired much the articles on Talfourd's 
 "Ion," and Taylor's political book: my mind misgives me 
 they are yours. Pray write as often as you can. Jane 
 desires me to say she longs for Mrs. Dilke's promised letter. 
 As for myself, you will not soon have some more last words. 
 But I do live in hope of meeting you bodily this autumn, 
 and would write a whole "Athenaeum" (a double one) to 
 help you out. 
 
 Methinks fat as most of the company would be, we should 
 almost talk ourselves into consumptions. Mind, no more 
 Margate ! If I chalk all along the dead wall in Grosvenor 
 Place, it would be, " Ask for Cobleuz," « T17 the Rhine," 
 " Beware of Dublin," " Inquire for Alten Graben !" 
 
 We often fancy ourselves in your family circle, and wish 
 you could take a stick to it and trundle it over here. Pray 
 remember us kindly to everybody, to William and Went- 
 worth, and the rest of the family, '• by hook and by Snook." 
 Desire Fanny Staunton to add moustachios to my portrait, 
 and put a pipe in my mouth. 
 
 Jane goes aU lengths with me in her love, and so does 
 Fanny, and so would Hood, jun., if he could, as he should. 
 The manoeuvres will begin the last week in August, and then 
 the King will be here ; so, dear Mrs. Dilke, mind you keep 
 Dilke in marching order. I have only post time to add God 
 bless you all in my more serious style, which some prefer to 
 my comic, and Jane says Amen religiously, though she has 
 fished of a Sunday. She denies it, and I believe it is an 
 en'or — she only went to an equestrian play.
 
 164 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Mind the address— us the quacks say — of, Dear Dilke, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 I forgot to mention that the soldiers have an odd sounding 
 mode of suicide. As ball is hard to get at, they sometimes 
 shoot themselves with water, — which blows the head to 
 atoms worse than shot. Now for something in the grand 
 style. One fellow in the true spirit of the German sublime, 
 did it with a forty-eight pounder, and went off with eclat. 
 How proud some Charlotte must have been of such a 
 Werter ! 
 
 752, Alten Graben, 12th July, 1836. 
 
 My dear Dilke, 
 
 You will wonder at hearing from me so soon again, 
 but it is a broken day, and an epistolary one, as I have 
 other letters to write — and perhaps the French letter will 
 be worth the postage ; and, above all, I have a positive 
 pleasure in writing to, as well as receiving letters from you. 
 You see I can make as many good excuses for writing, as 
 others for their silence. But the truth is, I have not many 
 correspondents, nor many conversibles ; so that I select you, 
 both to write to and to talk to on paper— for fear I should 
 die of that most distressing of complaints, a suppression of 
 ideas. I do not, however, though I am in Germany, pretend 
 to open a regular account of debtor and creditor, and expect 
 you to liquidate every letter of mine, as if it were a foreign 
 bill of exchange, by an equivalent on your own side. I 
 know your time is too valuable to be so drawn upon, and so 
 is mine too ; but, then, for me to write to you is matter of 
 recreation. You have too much of that of which I have too 
 little — society : so that if I choose to call on you, or leave
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 165 
 
 my card, i.e. letter, I do not peremptorily expect your 
 returning my visits. Now we understand each other ; and 
 sliould you ever tire of my billets, you can give me a genteel 
 cut, by returning my last under cover, which ought to be 
 equivalent to " not at home ; " or you can get Mrs. Dilke to 
 make spills of them, for I hate my writings to be of no use 
 to anyone. A case, I believe, peculiar to my " Plea of the 
 Fairies : " I had, I remember, to bid myself for the waste, 
 for fear of their going to the book-stalls. So you can 
 publish my letters if you do not like them, and trust to my 
 buying up the remainders. 
 
 We are all well — as well as the heat, that is to say, will 
 let us be. But we never had, as apparently all the world 
 has had, a stranger season. First, a long, cold, wet spring ; 
 and then, all at once, out of the ice-pail into the frying-pan, 
 like preserved fish. Our powers of contraction and expan- 
 sion were well tried. I am, as you may guess, not strong, 
 and wonder I did not become literally friable. At mental 
 work I sat in a room (always in shade) with the glass at 80 ; 
 and at bodily work at a true African heat. 
 
 We went one day to see the Royal Iron-works at Sayn, 
 and really, with all the great furnaces and the ladlefulls of 
 glowing red liquid metal, the process going on under a roof, 
 the sun seemed to heat the fire, without any great bellows. 
 
 One day, while fishing at Lahneck, De Franck and I 
 pursued a trout stream till it ended in what I have several 
 times observed about here, where there is water. There 
 was a sort of earthy cauldron sloping down, almost a regular 
 circle, till you came to a level surface of meadow and water, 
 as the Laacher Zee. The whole country is volcanic — tre- 
 mendously so, if you think of all the hot springs — a real 
 Solfaterra. Extinct crater, or not, I felt hailed dry in it 
 till I longed to plunge into the clear little stream before
 
 166 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 me, so cool, so clear ; but probably it would have been my 
 death ; for, do you know, trout live here in rivers too cold 
 for any other fish, and we caught nothing but trout, nor 
 has anybody else. However, in this beautiful picturesque 
 bottom I almost devilled myself, without curry or cayenne — 
 in spite of a queer brown holland smock-frock, garnished 
 (as the Germans cannot do even simplicity without a flourish) 
 with a flowing brown holland frill ! It was one of their 
 sporting costumes, lent me by De Franck ; and whilst 
 wearing this, and he in another like thereunto, we had 
 deposited our ordinary coats at a house in the village. And 
 here note, for I wish to be just, that the conservatives of 
 our said coats would not, without the greatest difficulty, 
 accept a doit — I ought to say a groschen — for their trouble, 
 although Germans, and Jews. I had, perforce, to give it 
 to a poor sick boy, as an excuse for leaving it, whom I 
 singled out with a sort of Irish philanthropy, to prove we 
 are all Christians. I wish I could hope to give him another 
 little piece of had silver (you know, of course, the waslied, 
 or rather apparently unwashed face of Friedrich Wilhelm on 
 our Prussian coinage), but he seemed destined to abstract 
 a unit from the gross sum of the twelve tribes at present in 
 existence. Set this off against my last picture of the people 
 of these parts, and lament with me that you must go from 
 the Rhine to meet with natures that correspond with its 
 natural beauties. Perhaps I am wrong ; I know you think 
 I am prejudiced, but I think I am not. Eveiy day fresh 
 facts, not fancies, corroborate my views. You will find a 
 new one in my notice of M. The imposition, I know, was 
 made light of, and made a joke of even, as against the 
 English. 
 
 I could quote political reasons for this jealousy, which 
 certainly does obtain, besides more private ones. Namely
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 167 
 
 under the heads of free trade, probable union of France, 
 Belgium, and England against the H-oly Family, alias Huly 
 Alliance, which I guesa is a main head and front, besides 
 avarice and envy, and most exaggerated notions of our 
 wealth. 
 
 I am translating a serious tale, illustrative of England, 
 from the " Zeitung," where a lady of Euston Square 
 offers X50,000 per annum, a mine in "Cornwales" and 
 £20,000 in " East India Actions " (? shares), as a reward 
 for finding her lost child. The lady dies — the King's 
 carriage and all the nobility go to the funeral ; the will 
 bequeaths all her property to the finder, and nothing to the 
 child ; and the said child is eventually found by a dog 
 called " Fog " ! Imagine a London fog finding anything ; 
 And these are " Sketches of our Manners " gravely written 
 and read on the Rhine — one of our thoroughfares ! ! It will 
 make a good chapter in my book as a German exercise ! 
 
 752, Alten Graben, Coblenz, 2^th October, 1836. 
 My dear Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 You will be surprised to hear that Hood is at this present 
 writing, at, or near Berlin — from thence he goes to Kiistrin, 
 Frankfort-on-the-Oder, Breslau, Dresden, Frankfort-on-the- 
 Maine, and then back to Coblenz. Mr. De Franck's regi- 
 ment, the 19th, has been ordered from here to Bromberg, 
 
 » 
 
 * In the beginning of October, the 19th Polish Infantry were ordered to 
 march to Bromberg, and my father was induced, by the invitation of his 
 friend Franck (and indeed of all the officers of the regiment), to march 
 ■wdth them. My mother's letter is put a little out of date here, in order 
 not to interfere with the continued narrative of my father's letters. This 
 was almost the last of my father's days of health, and henceforward — 
 although there have been occasional mentions of illness before — the letters 
 will record a gradual but sure decline of health. — T. H.
 
 168 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 and he proposed Hood's joining their march as a friend of 
 liis. As it was his intention to travel for his German book, 
 this aflFords the best opportunity. He would see parts of 
 the country which are not common to travellers ; he would 
 have the advantage of very pleasant companions, and the 
 help of Mr. De Franck's German, who speaks it as well as 
 a native — and Hood therefore very gladly accepted the 
 invitation. The regiment marches fifteen or twenty English 
 miles per day for three days, and then rests one. Mr. De 
 Franck advised Hood to buy a horse to go with them, and 
 when he wished to return, he could sell it and come back by 
 diligence. He was so fortunate as to meet with a good one, 
 with new saddle, bridle, and all, for seven pounds, ten 
 shillings ! As he could not start with them, Mr. De Franck 
 took the horse with him, and they arranged to meet at or 
 near Eisenach. 1 must tell you that all the officers very 
 politely expressed much pleasure at his going with them. 
 The Captain desired the Quartermaster to arrange quarters 
 for him with De Franck. The Colonel, who has translated 
 his " Eugene Aram " into German and is a very clever man, 
 sent him a handsome message and invitation. Knowing 
 that Mr. Dilke could not leave London for longer than five 
 or six weeks, it had been settled that I should go with Hood 
 as far as Eisenach, and they would not suffer us to alter 
 this ; so leaving them here, Hood and I left for Frankfort 
 on the 11th of October, and reached Eisenach on the 13th. 
 We stayed a night there, and went to Langen Seltzers the 
 next morning, expecting to find Mr. De F., but his bat- 
 talion was quartered in a village near, and we had to go on 
 there. We found him in the house of a Saxon peasant, or 
 rather farmer, for they seemed well to do and had five 
 or six fine cows. We had their two best bed-rooms — good 
 sized and nicely furnished — only we were obliged to go
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 169 
 
 through one to the other. The first had two beds for 
 Mr. Franck and a brother officer, and the inner one, which 
 •was also the sitting room, had one for tis : this was rather 
 unpleasant, but if I had been a princess I could not have 
 commanded any better, so I treated it in the best manner 
 I could. Our friend had been out and shot a brace of 
 partridges in the morning, and the Polish officer, his com- 
 rade, undertook to superintend the cooking them for supper. 
 I had brought tea with me, but had some difficulty to find 
 a substitute for a teapot, and the luxury of teaspoons was 
 quite unknown, and Hood * carved one out of a bit of pine 
 wood. For supper, they brought us a brown dish of pota- 
 toes, boiled in their skins, another dish of boiled eggs, some 
 butter, and a large brown loaf, so the birds were a nice 
 
 • My father was very ingenious in this way, and had a knack of ' ' cut- 
 ting and contriving," of which we possess many evidences. While in 
 Germany, he bought a small toy theatre for us, and then (and subsequently 
 at Camberwell, during an illness) drew, painted, and cut out the charac- 
 ters and scenery for a tragedy (Paul and Virginia), a spectacle (St. George 
 and the Dragon), and a pantomime. The figures were very clever, and the 
 groups and procession capitally arranged — and the dragon was a dragon ! 
 Some of the scenery, such as the planter's house, and the cottages of 
 Margaret and Madame de la Tour, are gems of effect and colour. Two 
 moonlight scenes were very good too — the grave of Paul and Virginia, and 
 the Palace in St. George, where a (tinsel) torchlight procession by water 
 wound up the play. The whole, however, cannot be described, and must 
 be seen to be appreciated. On high days and holidays this theatre used 
 to be brought out, and my father used to perform the pieces to the delight 
 of the little friends (and big ones too) who were present. He used to 
 extemporise the dialogue, which was considered by the elders, who were 
 better judges than we children could pretend to be, very lively and apt. 
 His stage management, properties, and machinery were capital, and I can 
 Btill remember the agony with which I used to see the wreck in Paul and 
 Virginia break up by degrees, and the bodies of the lovers washed in over 
 the breakers. In addition to these means of evening entertainment he had 
 a magic lantern, for which he painted a number of slides, some humorous, 
 and some pretty ones — a flight of doves and swallows with a hawk, and a 
 little cottage in the snow, with a "practicable" regiment marching over 
 abridge.— T. H.
 
 170 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 addition. After supper, the host and his wife came to 
 inquire if we had been comfortable — they were unused to 
 entertain such people, but they had done their best. The 
 man then produced a bottle of spirit (very like Scotch 
 whiskey, with a peat flavour even, made from rye), and 
 offered a glass to each, first shaking hands all round. The 
 wife, in the course of the evening, had brought her baby in 
 txQX arms, and a beautiful little fat thing it was ; and Hood 
 desired Franck to tell the father how much we admired it — 
 that it was so fat, we could not ask for all, but would like 
 to have a part of it. We thought the man's answer ve^y 
 ready : " Tell the gentleman, that I speak like the mother 
 to King Solomon, I cannot suffer him to take a part, I 
 would rather present him the whole of it ! " As you may 
 suppose, this was all very new and amusing, and we were ver^ 
 merry, only Hood complained at times of pain in the side ; 
 still we thought he would be better in tiie morning, aud 
 that it proceeded from over-fatigue. But his night was 
 very restless, and when he rose, the pain was so great, that 
 we found he would not dare to venture on horseback; so 
 we made a fresh arrangement, to go and stay at Saxe Gotha, 
 at a quiet inn we had called at on our way, and that he 
 should again meet the regiment on the next Tuesday at 
 Halle, supposing him to be better for care, rest, and nursing. 
 This all turned out to our wish ; the pain proceeded from 
 cold in the muscles of the chest, and he was soon well. 
 
 On Sunday, at twelve, I left him to return here, for I was 
 to have been with the Dilkes at Coblenz, on that day. He 
 saw me off from Saxe Gotha — but when the diligence 
 arrived there, it was full, and as six passengers were there 
 who had taken places, the conductor placed us " extras " in 
 two " post" waggons '' as they call them, and Hood went 
 away quite pleased at my going so comfortably. But alas '
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 171 
 
 this was not to continue ; after two stages, they brought 
 out an old, old diligence, in which they placed five gentlemen 
 and myself. At Vach, where we supped, having quickly 
 finished mine, I went out to get into the coach, and found a 
 smith mending the wheels, and listening with all my German 
 ears, heard the conductor ask if he was sure it was strong. 
 This was enough for me — but I was too timid to communi- 
 cate all this in bad German to the others ; so I sat nursing 
 my fears *' to keep them warm," in most profound silence — 
 suffering a womanly martyrdom. Of course I was not sur- 
 prised, though dreadfully frightened, when the crash came. 
 About eleven o'clock, when we had got to the top of a 
 steep hill, and so, fortunately, were going slowly, the wheel 
 came off" and we were turned over 1 The young man oppo- 
 site me scrambled out (we were uppermost) at the window ; 
 he did not tread upon me, but this was my luck, not his 
 care, for he evidently only thought of himself. As soon as 
 he was out, some one looked in at the window, and holding 
 up my hands, I begged him to help me, but I soon repented 
 this ; for, seizing hold of my wrists, he began to pull me 
 out "by force of arms" in spite of my entreaties, which 
 being in English of course he did not understand. I really 
 thought he would break them, for my whole weight was 
 hanging and I could not find anywhere to fix my feet 
 against at the side. At last he dragged me out upon the 
 top, and there I seemed likely to remain, for he went to 
 help out the rest, and I stood trembling, bruised, and crying 
 in the utmost distress, when I heard a voice in the road 
 say, " Don't be alarmed, let me assist you down." " Thank 
 God! that's English," I said, and I was almost ready to 
 jump into the gentleman's arms for very joy, as I was after- 
 wards compelled to do for very help, for it was only by his 
 lifting me from the edge, that I could reach the ground.
 
 172 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 He then ■went to search for my bag, which held my pas8>- 
 port and my shawl. It was, most fortunately, a lovely 
 moonlight night : darkness would have added much to my 
 horrjr. I found I had a blow on the back of the head, and 
 ore on my right shoulder, but I came off better than 
 others ; one poor man was sadly cut about the face and 
 head, and another had his arm vei-y much hurt. My 
 English friend now having found my bag and shawl, pro- 
 posed placing me in a britzka, in which a German and his 
 valet were travelling, but who had stopped to assist. But 
 the old gentleman did not, or would not understand, and T 
 said very proudly in German, that I would rather stand 
 there than trouble him. Upon this he was very pressing 
 and insisted on my getting in, but the diligence being near 
 in which the Englishman was a passenger, I very soor. 
 exchanged my seat for the only vacant one there was in it, 
 and went all the rest of the way in it to Frankfort. The 
 other unfortunates were taken on in post waggons, and 
 were twice overset again — not arriving at Frankfort until 
 four o'clock — we got there by one. 
 
 I went from Frankfort to Mayence that evening, and on 
 Tuesday morning came in the steamboat down the Rhine. 
 It was a beautiful day ; and though too rapid, I think the 
 Rhine is much finer to come down — ^you see it with better 
 
 effect than to go up it. 
 
 *     * 
 
 You of course have heard of our grand review. There 
 were such preparations for it, and so much talk beforehand, 
 and every village round Coblenz as well as the Stadt itself, 
 80 crammed with military chat we did expect something 
 " prodigious," but the weather was miserable, and we were a 
 leetle disappointed ; still it was such a sight as I never 
 witnessed before, and shall not again. Tlie Lager, or Camp,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOCD. 173 
 
 was erected at the end of August ; but the three or four 
 grand days were about the middle of September. The 
 Crown Prince was here three days to review them ; but I 
 thought the two days' "sham fights" after he left by far 
 the most interesting. The Camp was erected on the large 
 plain on the other side of the Rhine and Moselle, between 
 here and Andernach. There were booths for the sale of 
 fancy goods, for refreshment, and for dancing, theatres, 
 horse-riding, &c., and one large one called the Officei-s' 
 Booth, where they dined always. In front of these tents 
 was a range of kitchens for the soldiers at short distances 
 from each other, a quarter of a mile in length. Behind 
 these were the tents for those troops who could not be 
 disposed of in towns or villages. To those who had only 
 seen at a theatre the representation of a "tented field," 
 this was a beautiful sight, and the lovely green hills that 
 bound the plain on all sides added to the fine effect of the 
 scene. 
 
 We engaged a carriage early, knowing the Dilkes were 
 coming, and were so lucky that we paid for the four days, 
 what others paid for one ; but poor Mr. Dilke's illness 
 quite spoiled the enjoyment, though they insisted on our 
 going, as we had promised to take a young lady with us. 
 It was unfortunate, too, that what we had reckoned on as 
 an amusement, viz., that we live in the street that leads to 
 the bridge, turned out a source of annoyance to our po(jr 
 friend, on account of the noise of the carriages and troops 
 going in and out. On the last day but one. Hood and I 
 and Fanny went to see the taking of Bassenheimer, a 
 village seven or eight English miles off. The stupid people 
 of Coblenz having seen the troops reviewed in order, and 
 the Crown Prince, did not care to go to see this, so ours 
 was the only party present. We followed what seemed the
 
 174 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 successful and advancing army, but on gaining the brow of 
 a hill our troops began to retreat, and we saw the enemy 
 coming out of a dark fir wood, and steadily marching up the 
 ascent. Our situation was very advantageous for seeing 
 the manoeuvres, so we drew a little to one side and allowed 
 them to pass us : it gave me a very excellent notion of a 
 battle, the tramp of the feet, the measured beat of the 
 drums, and the firing of the skirmishers was truly exciting. 
 I wish Hood was here to give you a description,* fijr on 
 talking it over with Franck, he was astonished to find how 
 clearly he had seen it all, and pointed out how one side lost 
 the vantage ground, and ultimately was conquered by that 
 oversight. 
 
 We have great hopes of returning next year to England, 
 if it please God to continue Hood's health, which of course 
 so much depends on, indeed, all of comfort and success ! 
 The hope of seeing my dear friends and native land again, 
 renders the prospect of the next winter here not quite so 
 cheerless. I fear we shall miss our friend Franck very 
 much, both his society, and his many friendly acts, and also 
 his assistance in speaking German, for we are both of us 
 rather dull in acquiring it. I quite pine after English books, 
 
 * This review, no doubt, -was tte origin of the game of militai-y ma- 
 ncEuvres my father made for us. He got some common wooden toy soldiers, 
 and painted them in proper colours, putting feathers, epaulettes, and all 
 other necessary accoutrements for officers, band, and privates, with colours 
 and tents for each regiment. The whole formed two armies, which acted 
 against each other by certain rules, not unlike chess, and the game was 
 ■won by the general who took the best position. The two armies were 
 supplied with cannon and caissons, baggage -waggons, and all requirements. 
 The field was supplied with bridges, churches, villages, and forts— all 
 little models. The game was a most ingenious one, and afforded us much 
 amusement, and was greatly admired by my father's friends who saw it. 
 This is another instance of the trouble and time he spent in finding amuse- 
 ment for his children. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 175 
 
 and fear when I return I shall feed too greedily, like a 
 famished man, and so not benefit till time gives me a more 
 healthy appetite. What a loss the musical world has 
 suffered in the death of poor Malibran ! I was very sorry to 
 hear of it, she was a beautiful singer, and an admirable 
 actress. Hood has been to the Opera at Berlin, and saw 
 " Undine ; " it was very well done he says, and all the 
 Royal family wex-e present. The theatre here is wretched, 
 and the actors too bad to laugh at even. 
 
 With best love to you all, believe me to be ever, my 
 dearest Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Jane Hood. 
 
 The following are extracts from my father's letters to his 
 wife, during the march. 
 
 GoTHA, 18th October, 1837. 
 
 My own dearest and best, 
 
 I send you a packet for B — : the "Love Lane" 
 is longer by some verses, so send the present copy ; so much 
 for business, and now for the pleasant. 
 
 We parted manfully and womanfully, as we ought. I drank 
 only half a bottle of the Rhine wine, and only the half of 
 that, ere I fell asleep on the sofa, which lasted two hours. 
 It was the re-action, for your going tired me more than I 
 cared to show. Then I drank the other half, and as that 
 did not do, I went and retraced our walk in the Park, and 
 sat down in the same seat, and felt happier and better. 
 Have not you a romantic old husband 1 To-day I had 
 some pain, but I had written hard, and. I resolved at dinner, 
 out of prudence, and to set you at ease, to ask for advice, 
 when good fortune engaged me in English conversation with
 
 17« MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 a young German physician, a capital fellow ; and over a 
 bottle of champagne between us I frankly asked his advice 
 and stated my symptoms. He jumped at once at the cause, 
 and asked if I had travelled long in one position, &c. I 
 gave the history of our journey, and he said it was nothing 
 but what I had supposed, a cold in the pectoral muscles 
 from that night in the coach. I am to wear flannel on the 
 chest, and that is all ; there is nothing to apprehend. As 
 this coincides with my own views, I hope it will set you quite 
 at rest on the subject, and that you will thank me for putting 
 it out of doubt. He was a nice fellow and we are to meet 
 again at Berlin. I go off to-night at seven, and have little 
 time. I think you will like the " Desert Born.'' 
 
 I hope you got home safe and well, and found all so. 
 Kiss my darling Fanny and Tom for me over and over. 
 Kindest love to the Dilkes if they are with you. I have a 
 world to say to them and you (my next will not be so 
 hurried). I must keep my terrestrial globe of talk to some 
 other time. Take care of yourself. 
 
 Kiss the dear children for me, and believe me, 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 23rd October. 
 My own dearest and best Jane, 
 
 I feel quite happy, and more for your sake than 
 my own, that I have nothing but good news to communicate. 
 I got to Halle yesterday rather late, four or five in the 
 afternoon. There was a strict examination of passports at 
 Erfurt, and mine was refused a vise or frizze as Heilman 
 calls it; I believe because it was in French, — the Dumm- 
 kopf ! I found Franck domesticated (I ought to say quar-
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 177 
 
 tered, but it would sound like ciUting up) in Butcher Street, 
 the very place for filling one's cavities. After some good 
 beer, bread and cheese, by way of dinner, and a rest, we 
 \7ent and settled all the passport affair right, and then went 
 to head-quarters. My reception was very gratifying indeed, 
 they all seemed really glad to see me, and Franck's captain 
 was particularly friendly ; and I quite regret my loss of 
 German, as he is very merry, and likes to talk. There were 
 some gentlemen from Merseberg, who had known some of 
 the officers when the battalion was formerly quartered there, 
 and all was jollity. They were very friendly too, and I felt 
 quite at home, and moreover, supped on the famous Leipsic 
 
 larks, things that Martin of Street would lick the lips 
 
 of his heart at. Finally, I packed up my trunk, <tc., w^ent 
 to bed, and slept soundly and dreamt (don't be jealous for 
 we cannot command our dreams, I wish I could !) but it 
 was of little Tom, God bless him. I rose with the larks, 
 was well up to my time, marched to the muster, mounted 
 my nag, and here I am, at a quarter past one, writing to 
 you, after completing not only my first march, but a hearty 
 dinner. Luck turned at last, for I rose without any pain, 
 for the first time, and consequently in good spirits. I am 
 delighted with my nag, Franck has got him into such 
 excellent order ; I was only oft him twice, but thank good- 
 ness without hurting myself, as it was merely dismounting 
 according to the regular mode when we halted. Tell Fanny 
 he walks after Franck and knows him like a dog; I expect 
 to be equally good friends with him, by feeding him with 
 bread. Fanay herself might ride him, and I only fear 
 I shall be sorry to part with him at last. I rode so well 
 as to pass muster for a trooper, and did the turnpikes. At 
 one village a man said, " There goes the doctor ! " The 
 morning was beautiful, the road good and straight as a line 
 
 VOL. X, V i^
 
 178 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 over the immense plains near Leipsic, where so many a 
 battle has been fought. For some distance 1 rode between 
 the captain and a gentleman in plain clothes; it turned out 
 he had formerly been a soldier in the battalion, and is now 
 a Professor, and there was I the author turned soldier ! I 
 did wish you could have gone with us : the first halt was 
 very amusing, such miscellaneous breakfasting, and a boy 
 with a large tin of hot sausages, sold all off in a minute 
 to his surprise, and regret that he had not brought a 
 whole barrow full. The colonel passed in a carriage ; I did 
 not see him, but he stopped Franck to ask if I was there, 
 and sent his compliments. Tell Fanny I was introduced to 
 Minna's father. Minna is not going to leave Coblenz yet, 
 so that she can have her with her sometimes, before she 
 goes. I assure you I found myself getting better every 
 mile, and when we got here about ten, felt so fresh, indeed, 
 not even stiff, that I could not believe the march was over. 
 
 From Gotha to Halle was somewhat tedious in a hei 
 wagen — without any adventure save one. At supper, fur 
 we did nut leave till nine, there were two gentlemen ; one of 
 whom talked with me a good deal in my bad German ; but 
 to n)y surprise when we had gone some miles he addressed 
 me in English. We sat together in the coupe and gossipped 
 nearly the whole night on England, Bowring, Campbell, &c. 
 He told me he had been an emigre from Germany on account 
 of his politics which had brought him into great trouble, 
 and had held an office at the London University ; but having 
 settled his diffei'ences with Government, is now a Professor 
 at some College in Prussia. Perhaps Dilke will know who 
 he is. I have had good quarters as yet. Bill of fare 
 to-day : roast pork, ditto goose, with apples, good soup, 
 good beer, pickled cherries, celery roots in slices, as large 
 and round as turnips, lamb's milk cheese stuck full of
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 179 
 
 caraways. I should like to see your face at the last article. 
 I have no more to say in the victualling line except that 
 Franck caught Heilman ramming matches into his cayenne 
 pepper by mistake for a fire buttle. 
 
 And now, dearest, it delights me to hope and think that 
 whilst I am writing, you are at home safe and well, and are 
 just now sitting down to dinner, or ought to be with the 
 pretty little pair ; perhaps with the pretty big pair too. 
 You know who I mean ! It was fine weather for you, and 
 it was in favour of your impatience that you would travel 
 quickest, nearest home, I hope you enjoyed the Rhine 
 from Mayence. I shall long eagerly to know about you all, 
 whether the Dilkes have left, and how he was, &c., and you 
 bore your solitary journey. I have thought of you con- 
 tinually, and enjoy by sympathy beforehand the comfort 
 you will feel in reading this, a true and not a flattering 
 picture of my mind, body, and estate. I feel really as well 
 as I say, and have now no doubt of getting very much 
 better if not quite restored by this trip, with other advan- 
 tages to boot. (There is a bunch of comforts for you, like 
 the posies chucked in at a coach window.) We drank your 
 health in beer (excuse the liquor). I ramble on how I can, 
 having to take a sleep, and then go in the evening to meet 
 the others, perhaps to play at whist, half-penny points. We 
 are in a pretty little village, and among people the reverse 
 of Rhinelanders. The sudden change from marching soldiers, 
 &c., is qiiite laughable ; look out of window, and there is not 
 a trace of military, not even a cap ; all are indoors snoozing, 
 &c. In the evening we shall swarm like bees. 
 
 Franck will write to you next, as I shall be busy, but I 
 determined to show you to day by a long letter how well 
 I was after my march. I shall also write a few Hues at the 
 end of this to Fanny, who I hope helps and pleases you as
 
 180 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 much as she can. If the Dilkes are not gone, give my love 
 to them and say all that is kind. I left in a sad hurry, and 
 had not even time to thank Mrs. Dilke, without whom I 
 should never have been launched. Tell her I shall be as 
 grand over my march, as if I had crossed the Simplon. If 
 you write of your journey faithfully to your mother, the 
 break down and all, I suspect it will be ** vardict sarve 'em 
 right ! Hood and Jane are both gone mad together ! " The 
 ofiBcers who were in love seemed reconciled to their fate. I 
 have found " my own Carlovicz " again — only time to shake 
 hands, but expect him this evening. Wildegans is well 
 again, but gone forward two hours further than us. He was 
 with me all the way nearly. It will be our turn next I 
 guess for a long spell, but I could have gone much further 
 to-day than we did. I have promised the captain to get fat 
 under his command. 
 
 I fear you will have no more long letters till the " Comic " 
 is done ; but am I not good for this one 1 I am quite 
 repaid by the anticipation of your pleasure in it. I fear you 
 will have to copy what I send you of MSS., for fear of their 
 miscarrying. I sent you a packet from Gotha. 
 
 My dear Fanny, 
 
 I hope you are as good still as when I went away 
 — a comfort to your good mother and a kind playfellow to 
 your little brother. Mind you tell him my horse eats bread 
 out of my hand, and walks up to the ofiBcers who are eating, 
 and pokes his nose into the women's baskets. I wish I 
 could give you both a ride. I hope you liked your paints ; 
 pray keep them out of Tom's way, as they are poisonous. 
 I shall have rare stories to tell you when I come home ; but 
 mind, you must be good till then, or I shall be as mute as a
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 181 
 
 stockfish. Your mama will show you on the map where 
 I was when I wrote this ; and when she writes will let you 
 put in a word. You would have laughed to see your friend 
 Wildegans running after the sausage boy to buy a " wurst : " 
 there was hardly an officer without one in his hand smokhig 
 hot. The men piled their guns on the grass, and sat by tlie 
 side of the road, all munching at once like ogres. I had a 
 pocketful of bread and butter, which soon went into my 
 " cavities," as Mrs. Dilke calls them. I only hope I shall 
 not get so hungry as to eat my horse. I know 1 need not 
 say keep school and mind your book, as you love to learn. 
 You can have Minna sometimes, her papa says. 
 
 Now God bless you, my dear little girl, my pet, and think 
 of your 
 
 Loving Father, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 EXTRACT. 
 
 Potsdam. 
 
 From having gone through woods, full of old stumps and 
 roots of trees, without a fall, I begin to pique myself on my 
 horsemanship; but yesterday got into a bit of a caper. I 
 was anxious to inquire at the post-office of Belitz, so had to 
 get before the others, which I all but effected, when just 
 entering the town in a narrow street I was obliged to wait 
 with my horse's nose just against the big drum, which he 
 objected to pass ; but I contrived to keep him dancing 
 between the band and the regiment. I was more lucky 
 than a captain in Coblenz, whose horse ran away with him 
 slap through the band, all of whom he upset, breaking their 
 instruments to the tune of 300 dollars damages. I am glad 
 I did not know this at the time. 
 
 We rise at four, and march about five or half-past. It is
 
 182 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 moonlight earlier, but then becomes dark, so I march till 
 I can see the road, and then mount ; after about three 
 quartera of an hour we halt for a quarter of an hour, and 
 then on again to the general rendezvous, overtaking or 
 passing other companies on the road, for we are quartered 
 sometimes widely apart. At the rendezvous we halt and 
 breakfast — a sort of j)icnic — each bringing what he can. If 
 I had been searched yesterday they would have found on 
 me two cold pigeons, and a loaf split and buttered. I have 
 learned to forage, and always clear the table at my quarters 
 into my pockets. 
 
 It is an amusing scene when we sit down by the roadside ; 
 some of the officers, who have had qvieer quarters, bring 
 sketches of them ; one the other day had such a ruinous 
 house for his, that his dog stood and howled at it. At the 
 
 I 
 
 inn at Kremnitz, I had dinner, supper, bed and breakfast for 
 7 good groschen, about 11 pence ! Think of that, ye Jewish 
 Rhinelanders. Many of them, moreover, returned the com- 
 mon soldiers the five groschen the king allows for their bil- 
 leting, and gave them a glass of schnaps besides. They are 
 a friendly, kind people, and meet you with the hand held out
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 183 
 
 to shake and say "welcome " T like the Saxons much. Then 
 
 we marched to Wiltenberg, where a Lieut. J , an old 
 
 friend of Franck's, made us dine with him at the military- 
 Casino. He spoke French, and I found him very intelligent, 
 and somewhat literary; so we got on well. He asked me if 
 we English had not a prejudice against the Germans, and T 
 assured him quite the reverse. 
 
 He seemed pleased, and said, " To be sure we are of the 
 same race " (Saxons). He took me over the town, famous 
 as one of Luther's strongholds. His statue conveyed the 
 very impression I had from a late paper in the " Athenaeum, ' 
 a sturdy friar, with a large thick-necked jowly head, sensual 
 exceedingly, — a real sort of bull-dog to pin the pope's bull. 
 From thence we went to Pruhlitz to our quarters, which were 
 queerish ; Franck was put in a room used as the village 
 chiirch, and I in the ball-room ; we were certainly transposed. 
 Our second quarters were at Nichel, near Truenbreitzen. We 
 arrived after a march of eight hours and a half, think of that 
 for me ! and I came in all alive and kicking. We got it 
 over wide barren heaths, and plenty of deep sand. Our billet 
 was on the Burgomaster, or schulize, and his civic robe was 
 a sheepskin with the wool inward, the usual wintry dress in 
 those bleak parts. The lady mayoress a stout, plump, short- 
 faced mutterkin, with a vast number of petticoats to make 
 amends for shortness. I told my host I was an English 
 burgomaster, so we kept iip a great respect and fellowsliip 
 for each other. You would have laughed to see Bonkowski 
 hugging and kissing the Frau — it is reckoned an honour — 
 and the husbands stand and look on ; we shook hands all 
 roimd, and then dined ; I was not too curious about the 
 cookery, and ate heartily. Every time T came to the window, 
 a whole group in sheepskins, like baa-lambs on their hind 
 lews, pointed me out to each other, and took a good stare ; so
 
 184 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I suppose Englanders are rarities. At leaving, the Burgo- 
 master inquired very anxiously about me, and being as he 
 thought in the way to get information, he said he had heard 
 of Flanders, and wanted to know if it was money YiVe florins ! 
 
 There was a Worship for you ! 
 
 * « * * 
 
 We had but two beds ; one for me, and one for Bonkowski, 
 and Franck was on the straw. 
 
 Thence we went to Schlunkendorf (what a name !) near 
 Belitz : quartered at a miller's, very clean and wholesome, 
 but only two beds, so Franck was littered down again. I 
 wanted the host to give him corn instead of straw, by mis- 
 take, and then come and thrash them both out together. I 
 forgot to say the little captain called on me at Pruhlitz to 
 see how I was, and took tea with us. Last night I called on 
 Bonkowski, who was opposite to us ; I found him flirting 
 with the Frau. I told her I had come 50,000 miles, was 
 married at 14, and had 17 children; and as I was in yellow 
 boots, and Mrs. D.'s present of a robe, and really looked like a 
 grand Turk, she believed me like Gospel. We made a Welch 
 rabbit for supper, and then played loo till bed- time for 
 pfennings ; I had a young officer for our third instead of 
 Bonkowski. This morning I rode over from Schlunkendorf 
 to Belitz, Heilman taking back the mare, where I found your 
 welcome letter, and started by diligence to Potsdam where 
 I am, having just eaten a capital dinner — chiefly a plate of 
 good English-like roasted mutton — and a whole bottle of 
 genuine English porter. I am to brush up here to see them 
 parade before the king to-morrow morning. 
 
 Then a day's rest here, and then to Berlin. After the 
 parade, a party of us are going to Sans Souci and so forth, 
 sight-seeing. Franck hopes to introduce me to the Radzi- 
 wills at Berlin. I have no pain, and really wonder how I
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 185 
 
 march. But I had made up my heart and mind to it, and 
 that is everything ; it ke^ps me, I think, froni falhng off 
 my horse, I am so determined to stick to him, and keep my 
 wits always about me : in fact, I quite enjoy it, and only 
 wish I could return so, 'tis so much better than being jammed 
 up in a diligence, and, says you, " less dangerous ! " 
 
 Pray tell my dear, good Fanny, that at Schlunkendorf 
 there was a tame robin that killed all the flies in the room, 
 hopped on the table, and the edges of our plates, for some 
 dinner. I am delighted with her keeping her promise 
 to me. 
 
 My project is to go with the 10th Company to Custrin, 
 and then home by Frankfort on the Oder, Breslau, Dresden, 
 Frankfort-on-the-Maine, Mayence, Coblenz, where God send 
 I may find you all well. 
 
 Tlie country round Berlin, the Mark of Brandenberg, is 
 bitter bad, deep sand almost a desert. I don't wonder the 
 Great Frederick wanted something better. Some parts of 
 our marches, through the forests, with the bugles ringing, 
 were quite romantic, and the costume of the villagers, when 
 they turned out to see us pass, really picturesque. I have 
 now made five marches, and am not fatigued to speak of I 
 am sworn comrade with most of the officers ; one rough- 
 looking old captain told me, when he got to Berlin he should 
 have his Polish cook, and then he should ask me to dinner, 
 promising me an " overgay " evening, which I shall take care 
 to get out of. By-the-by, when we were at the burgomaster's, 
 I saw said captain, striding up and down in a great fume 
 before the house ; it turned out he was to sleep in the same 
 room with a man, his wife and seven children ! which he de- 
 clined. Finally, I believe, he was put in the school-room in 
 an extempore bed. We are often short of knives, spoons, 
 and forks; but the poor creatures do theb- best and cheer-
 
 186 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 filly, so that it quite relishes the victuals. T shake their 
 hands heartily, when we part. Yesterday I had a nice des- 
 sert of grapes, sent over to me by Bonkowski, and they are 
 scarce in these regions. 
 
 Carlovicz one night got no quarters at all : it is quite a 
 lottery. You should have seen Wildegans riding on a 
 baggage waggon between suttlers ! Tell Tom that Franck 
 comes to pat my horse, and she spits all over him sometimes, 
 for she has rare yeasty jaws ; and yesterday I had the pru- 
 dence to take myself to leeward after spangling the captain's 
 cloak all over ! She eats rarely, and will sell well, I dare 
 say; but I shall be sorry to part with her. When I find 
 myself on horseback, riding through a long wood with the 
 regiment, it seems almost like a dream ; your mother will 
 no more believe it than your upset. You have subjects 
 enough now for the Elliots with a vengeance, and so shall I 
 have ! I wish I could wish the Dilkes may be comfortably 
 in Coblenz by my return. As they are not wanted, they 
 would see the vintage ; God bless them any way, and say 
 everything kind for me. I really think they might stay 
 longer in Coblenz, quiet and cheap enough, and recover 
 thoroughly, against their winter campaign of company. I 
 long to see them again ere they cross the sea. 
 
 I have rambled on to amuse you, and left little room to 
 
 say all I could wish to yourself; but you will find in your 
 
 own heart the echo of all I have to say (rather an Irish one, 
 
 but a truth teller). 
 
 * »     
 
 I seem to have scarcely had an inconvenience, certainly 
 not a hardship, and it will ever be a pleasant thing for me 
 to remember. I like little troubles; I do not covet too 
 flowery a path. By-the-by, I have some dried flowers 
 for my flower-loving Fanny, gathered at odd out-of-the-
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 187 
 
 way places. I will show her where on the map when 1 
 return. 
 
 It was singular in the sheepskin country, whilst the men 
 were all so warmly pelissed, to see the women in the short 
 petticoats, their legs looking so cold. I suspect I pass for 
 very hardy, if not foolhardy, I slight the cold so ; but it seems 
 to me a German characteristic, that they can bear being sugar- 
 bakers, but can hardly endure what I call a bracing air. 
 » * * * 
 
 Bless you, bless you, again and again, my dear one, my 
 only one, my one as good as a thousand, to 
 
 Your old Unitarian in love, 
 
 T. H. 
 
 P.S. If Desdemona loved Othello " for the dangers he had 
 passed," how shall I love you ? With my utmost diligence, 
 or rather so much more than my heart can hold, that it 
 must get a bei wagen I And with that earnest ioke, good 
 bye. 
 
 Berlin, October 29<A. 
 
 My dearest Love, 
 
 Here I am safe — but my march is over ! The 
 Prince Radziwill has invited Franck to stay two or three 
 weeks here, so he of course stays. As he was the pretext 
 for my journey, I cannot well go without him; but had 
 planned to return by Dresden and Leipsic. To-day, how- 
 ever, it snows ; and for fear of bad roads, <fec., I think I shall 
 come direct. Moreover, owing to the hurry, I have none of 
 my papers or lists with me, so that I find it difficult to do 
 anything with the " Comic." You may look for me, there- 
 fore, in a fortnight from the date of this. I hope the Dilkes
 
 Itre MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 will not be gone. I shall not write again. I am very well, 
 and busy going about. I saw the Cadet school here yester- 
 day morning. I swig away at good London porter. Don't 
 you envy me 1 
 
 Last night I was at the opera — "Undine" — the whole 
 royal family present ; it was very well done, and I really 
 longed for Tibbie,* it was so full of fairy work. Nearly the 
 whole of the 19th were there, and Wildegans says he regrets 
 not to have heard the comments of the men. I have been 
 with him to the exhibition of pictures this morning. Then 
 we took leave, and it made me quite down to say Good-bye 
 to so many, and probably for ever. He desired me to say 
 everything that is kind to you, Fanny, and Tom. I was 
 introduced to the Colonel last night, at the opera. We have 
 a great joke amongst us : half the officers, having a day or 
 two's leave, stay here behind the regiment; they lunch 
 with me sometimes, and we call it " eating the horse." I 
 suppose I shall get rid both of him and his price before I 
 leave. 
 
 I have met with no disagreeables here, which will please 
 you, and shall reserve all stories for our tete-a-tetes. In a 
 fortnight you may expect me. 
 
 Tell my dear Fanny I was very much pleased with her 
 letter, and so was her friend Franck. I gave her love to 
 Wildegans and Carlovicz. I parted with Wildegans yester- 
 day, about two o'clock. I reckon I shall never see him 
 again. He desired everything kind to be said to you, and 
 said he should never forget us, and spoke of the children, 
 " Heine Tom and Fannie la petite.^' 
 God bless you all three, dear ones ! 
 
 * A pet name for his daughter.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 189 
 
 Berlin, November 2nd, 1836. 
 
 My own dearest and best Love, 
 
 I do not know whether this will reach you on your 
 birthday, but I hope so. 
 
 I have been very busy sight-seeing, and very gay. The 
 day before yesterday Franck brought me an invitation from 
 Prince William Radziwill, the head of the family, to dine 
 with him at three o'clock. I was run for time, having to 
 get dress-boots, &c. ; and to crown all, a coach ordered at 
 half-past two did not arrive till three, nor could I make them 
 understand to get another. Thank heaven, the dear Prin- 
 cesses were long in dressing, for it would have been awful to 
 have kept them waiting. 
 
 They say no man is a prophet in his own country, and 
 here literature certainly came in for its honours. The 
 Prince introduced me himself to every one of his familv, 
 who all tried to talk to me, most of them speaking Englisli 
 very well. Some spoke French, so I got on very well, save 
 a little deafness. The Prince placed me himself next to him 
 at dinner, on his right hand, and talked with me continually 
 during dinner, telling me stories and anecdotes, (fee, and I 
 tried to get out of his debt by some of mine. There were 
 present Prince William, Prince Boguslaw Radziwill, Prince 
 Adam Czartoriski, Prince Edmund Clary, Count Wildenbruch 
 (whom I had met before). Count Lubienski, Councillor Mi- 
 chalski, Hofrath Kupsach, Captain Crawford, R.N., Princess 
 Cliiry, Princess Felicia Clary, Princess Euphemia Clary, Pj-in- 
 cess Boguslaw Radziwill, Princess Wanda Czartoriski, and 
 Miss von Lange, lady-in-waiting. So I was in august com- 
 pany. (Franck was obliged to dine at the Duke of Cumber- 
 land's.) I was quite delighted with the whole family; they
 
 190 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 are all excellent. I stayed till seven. We were very merry 
 after dinner, Frauck came in, and the Princes kept telling 
 me sporting anecdotes about themselves and him. Prince 
 William proposed to call on me and see my sketches, but I 
 told him I had none, and then begged his acceptance of my 
 books, which I am to send. The Princesses asked me to 
 send them this year's " Comic." Both the Prince Radziwills 
 shook hands with me at parting. They (the Princes) have 
 since spoken of visiting me, but Franck declined it, on the 
 plea of my being so far off; for the place was so full, not a 
 bed was to be had when I arrived at that end, and I am in 
 quite a third-rate hotel, at the opposite quarter. 
 
 I have more particulars to tell you when we meet, but I 
 knew you would be pleased to hear of this. The Duke of 
 Cumberland asked Franck who " that gentleman was who 
 marched with his regiment," and was surprised to hear it 
 was me ; he had been told it was an officer. Prince George 
 spoke in such very handsome terms of me that I left my 
 card for him. As he regretted not having had the last 
 " Comic," Franck presented one of his. It was a sad pity, 
 but the Prince is quite blind ; a fine young man, and very 
 amiable. I do not know whether I shall see any of the 
 Princes again before I go, but I expect I must call to take 
 leave. They had even read " Tylney Hall ! " 
 
 Since writing the above, I have been unwell, and could 
 not meet Franck as I promised at the Exhibition. I think 
 principally it arose from a sudden change in the weather, 
 from really severe frost to rain. Only yesterday we were 
 walking in the fish-market, where the huge tubs of jack, 
 carp, (tc, were almost frozen hard, but to-day the streets are 
 covered with genuine London-like mud. I have seen Franck, 
 however, at the cafe where I dine, and he told me Prince 
 William called on me yesterday, and the other Princes to-
 
 M±:MU1UALS of THOMAS hood. 191 
 
 day, also Count WilJeubruoh. This is really most flattering 
 attention. I sent to-day to one of the Princes a written 
 account of Franck's tumble into the Lahn, which I expect 
 will make them laugh, as I had highly embellished it. 
 Franck is gone again to-night to the Duke of Cumberland's. 
 We only meet by snatches. He and a young lieutenant, 
 Von Heugle, are all I see now of the 19th. Tiie latter and 
 I are very good friends — he is quite yo^ug, and having leave 
 as lung as Franck's, and more leisure, we go about together 
 a good deal. You should hear the lamentations of Franck 
 and myself, that you are not here, — it is really amusing. 
 
 Yesterday I was in the Musee, and saw some wonderful 
 pictures : the " Titiau's Daughter," for instance. I should 
 like to be one of the attendants for a month. There were 
 some curious antique pieces I will describe when we meet. 
 Altogether I have had a most happy time of it, and in health 
 and every respect have reason to be highly gratified. I am 
 now all right — a little good port wine, which aU the officers 
 here recommended me to take to-night, has cured me, and 
 here I am writing to you with the spirits of a lark, in the 
 hope that after a couple or three days, every hour will bring 
 me nearer to all that is deai'est to me on earth. 
 
 The following letter was written after my father's return 
 from Berlin to his friend Lieut, de Franck, who was then with 
 his regiment at Bromberg. My father missed him sadly on 
 many accounts, and indeed 1 think, after he left, Coblenz 
 became very dreary and tedious to him. They were fellow 
 disciples of Izaak Walton in the " gentle art of angling," and 
 after his friend's departure, my father found his pleasant 
 fishing rambles had lost their greatest charm. They had 
 spent so many happy days with rod and line at Lahneck, 
 and by the side of the Mozelle, ifec, that the old haunts
 
 1S2 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 seemed very lonely and deserted after Lieut, de Franck left. 
 The frequent address of " Tim says he " between them, arose 
 from the following dialogue which my father had picked up 
 somewhere.* The characters were supposed to be a thought- 
 less Irishman in difficulties, and his more prudent servant, 
 and the conversation ran thus : — 
 
 " Tim ! " says he. 
 
 " Sir ! " says he. 
 
 " Fetch me my hat," says he, 
 
 " That I may go," says he, 
 
 " To Timahoe," says he, 
 
 " And go to the fair," says he, 
 
 " And see all that's there ! " says he. 
 
 " First pay what you owe ! " says he. 
 
 " And then you may go," says he, 
 
 " To Timahoe," says he, 
 
 " And go to the fair," says he, 
 
 " And see all that's there ! " says he. 
 
 " Now by this, and by that," says he, " — Tim, hang up 
 my hat ! " says he. 
 
 This so tickled their fancies that " Tim says he " was a far 
 more frequent preface and salutation than their own proper 
 names. The origin of the nickname " Johnny," I have not 
 been able to trace. 
 
 752, Altkn Gtkaben, Coblenz, Dec. 2nd, 1836. 
 
 Tim, says he. 
 
 It was odd enough I should have my accident too, 
 as if to persuade me that German eilwagens are the most 
 dangerous vehicles in the world — but about four o'clock on 
 the third morning after " a great leap in the dark," the coach 
 turned short round, and brought up against the rails at the 
 • Vide " Sir Jonah Barrington's Memoirs."
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 193 
 
 roadside ; luckily they were strong, or we should have gone 
 over a precipice. There we were on the top of a bleak hill, 
 the pole having broken short off, till we were fetched by bel 
 wagens, to the next station, where a new pole was made ; but 
 it delayed us six hours. Here I got the first of my cold, for 
 the weather and wind were keen ; the night journey from 
 Frankfort to Mayence in an open coupe confirmed it. T 
 could not help falling asleep in it from cold. So I came 
 home looking well, and as ruddy as bacon ; and the very 
 next day turned white with a dreadful cough, which ended 
 in spitting blood ; but I sent for the doctor, was bled, and 
 it was stopped ; but I am still weak. To make things better 
 I had not sent enough for the " Comic," and was obliged to 
 set to work again, willy-nilly, well or illy. I have not been 
 out of doors yet since I came home, but shall in a day or 
 two. The Rliine and Moselie are very high — the Castor 
 Street is flooded — the weather being very mild — but I guess 
 cold is coming, for I saw a fellow bring into the town to-day 
 a very large wolf on his shoulders. He was as fat as a pig. 
 I found all well at home. Tom stared his eyes out at me, 
 almost, and for two days would scarcely quit my lap. He 
 talks and sings like a parrot. I should have liked to see 
 your Grand Hunt (a Battue), but for sport I would rather 
 take my dog and gun and pick up what I could find. The 
 night procession must have looked well. Poor Dilke went 
 away very unwell, but the last account of him was better. 
 I did not get home soon enough to see him. I am going to 
 give him a long account of my march. I think the horse 
 sold very well, but cannot fancy what you will do with the 
 saddle, unless you put it on a clothes-horse when you want 
 to ride. Don't forget in your next to let me know the fa*^e 
 of the cheese. I guess it got " high and mity " enough to 
 deserve a title. Oh ! I do miss the porter at Berlin ! Schu- 
 
 VOL. x, J3
 
 194 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 macher's is to let again, and the beer we get is "ex-crabble?" 
 I hope next winter to taste it in London, but can form no 
 plans till my health clears up more. I must beg you in 
 your next to give me the list of the ofl&cers. I was to have 
 had it before we parted, as I begin my German book with 
 the march. How do you find your quarters 1 Are there 
 
 any Miss A s at Bromberg] By the bye, I undertook a 
 
 letter from Lieutenant B to deliver here, and sent it by 
 
 Katchen, who says the mother came in and made a bit of a 
 row. But I cannot well understand what she said in German. 
 Perhaps there has been a cat let out of the bag, the young 
 lady having left the letter lying on the table in view of the 
 mamma. 
 
 How is Wildegans ? and do you ever see him and Carlo- 
 vicz 1 My kind regards to both, and most friendly remem- 
 brances to all you see, not forgetting my captain. How you 
 will delight in settling down to your drill duties and parades 
 after so much gaiety ! I quite envy you : a few raw recruits 
 would be quite a treat ! You do not tell me whether you 
 had any trolling with Prince Boguslaff : all our old fishing- 
 stands by the Mosel are under water. I hope to get you 
 out a " Comic " early in the spi-ing, and the books for 
 Berlin ; but I shall not know how to get anything over 
 befoi-e, as I guess land-carriage cometh very dear, and they 
 must come vid Ostend till the Rhine-boats run again. 
 Perhaps my painter will come out early, as Jane has told 
 you I am to be " done in oil." I have now no news — how 
 should I have? for I have at least been room-ridden. I 
 shall take to my rod again as soon as the season begins ; 
 but I shall miss you, Johnny, and your " wenting in." * I 
 
 * Mr. Franck had so forgotten his English as to make little mistakes at 
 times, and once said he " wented in " somewhere. Of course this gave mj 
 father an opportunity for inwenting endless fun. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 196 
 
 must promise you a better letter next time. This is only 
 a brie/ from 
 
 Dear Johnny, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 JOUNNT. 
 
 Fanny and Tom send their little loves. 
 
 CoBLKNZ, December 15th, 1836. 
 My DEAR Wright, 
 
 I shall soon begin on my German book with *' wigger." 
 I have material prepared. Minor adventures on the march 
 I have not given, as you will see them there. I pique 
 myself on the punctuality of my brief military career. I 
 was never too late, and always had my baggage packed by 
 my own hands ready for the waggon. It was almost always 
 dark at setting out, and I had to lead my horse till I could 
 see. After half an hour, or an hour, we took generally a 
 quarter's rest, foi: a sort of after-breakfast ; then made for 
 the general rendezvous, where we piled arms, and all fell to 
 work on our victuals, — a strange picnic, each bringing what 
 he could ; and we made reports, and some showed sketches 
 of their last night's quarters. On the whole, I was very 
 fortunate. Some were regularly hovelled, in pigeon-houses 
 or anywhere. It was a lottery. On the march I rode by 
 turns at the head or the tail of the companies, talking with 
 such of the officers as could speak French, They were, one 
 and all, very friendly, and glad of my company. I almost 
 wondered at myself, to find that I could manage my horse 
 so well, for we had queer ground sometimes, when we took 
 short cuts. 
 
 I assure you sometimes I have almost asked myself the 
 question, whethr" I was I, seeming to be so much out of
 
 196 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 my ordinary life, — for example, on horseback, following, or 
 rather belonging to, a company of soldiers ; the bugle ring- 
 ing through a vast pine wood to keep us together, or the 
 men perhaps singing Polish songs in chorus, for this is a 
 Polish regiment chiefly. 
 
 About a year ago I had a military cloak, at the contractor's 
 price, from Berlin, but without any idea of a march. Thanks 
 to it, and my horse having been a captain's of engineers, with 
 its saddle-cloth, &c., I cheated the king of all the road- 
 money, for they let me pass all the toll-houses as an officer. 
 I was taken alternately for the chaplain and doctor of the 
 regiment. It did me a world of good, but the finish marred 
 all again. I was disappointed at not going to the end with 
 them, but as De Franck stays, I could not well proceed ; 
 and I have since heard he has been stopped three weeks 
 more, to go on a grand hunting party into Austria. I am 
 going to set to work to leani Gei'man during this winter, as 
 I know I shall be able to turn it to account. I am reading 
 the papers, but they are not worth reading. 
 
 I shall be very happy to see Mr. L and show him all the 
 
 countenance I can in Coblenz as a portrait painter, by letting 
 him take my own, but, for my part, I never got any good 
 of my face yet, except that it once got me credit for eighteen 
 pence at a shop, when I had gone out without my purse. 
 If he has not yet seen the Rhine, he will find the " face of 
 nature" very well worth his attentions, and I shall ha\e 
 much pleasure in offering him such hospitality as we have 
 here, — for it is not quite English in its fare, this good town. 
 But a change is sometimes agreeable. I had a change of it 
 on the march, and I cooked our supper of Welsh-rabbits 
 one night, but though it was good Stilton cheese, no less, 
 the two German officers we invited express, wouldn't eat it. 
 It ran a near chance of being thrown away, because it was
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 197 
 
 turning blue. I must tell you of a good joke. I sent De 
 Franck's servant with my passport to a countiy Burgomaster 
 to be vise, — he brought it back with a message that " I 
 could not be 'frizze,'' without coming in person ! " Encore. 
 They use little fire bottles very much here, — one morning 
 at four o'clock we were an immense time getting a light, 
 the bugle had sounded long ago, — at last we found him with 
 a bundle of about fifty phosphoric matches, trying them all 
 by turns in our little phial of Cayenne, very much bothered 
 that they would not catch fire. And now, dear Wright, 
 adieu, with kind regards, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 752, Altkn Graben, Coblenz, 2^ih Dec, 1836. 
 My dear Dilke, 
 
 I intended to write to you long ago, but, as usual, 
 I have been laid up in ordinary, a phrase you must get some 
 Navy Pay Officers to translate, it ought to be Le Fever. 
 My marching, in fact, ended like Le Fevre's, in a sick 
 bed — my regiment came to a regimen ! Oh, Dilke 
 what humbugs of travellers you and I be now, that we 
 caimot compass a few hundred miles, but the leech must be 
 called in at the end ! I came home, looking ruddy as a 
 ploughboy, and, excepting some signs of my old local weak- 
 ness, better apparently than since I have been here ; but 
 almost the next day after my return, I turned white, with a 
 most unaccountable depression, which ended in a fit of 
 
 spitting blood as before. Dr. S was immediately sent 
 
 for — I was bled, and there was no return. 
 
 Now I cannot believe that such a poor crow as I can have 
 too much blood. I suspect this time it was a touch on the 
 lungs, which were never touched before, being indeed my
 
 198 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 strongest point. I attribute it to our unlucky accident of 
 the coach— at four o'clock of a cold, windy morning. How- 
 ever, I am nearly right again, but weak and low — rather : 
 your kind letter has just arrived with its good news, quite 
 equal to three cheers, one for Dilke, one for the " Comic," 
 and one for myself. I was afraid the first would be worse 
 for his homeward journey. I must and will think you set 
 off too soon, and as a prophet after the fact, you had plenty 
 of mild fine weather before you, for it only snowed here for 
 the first time yesterday, Christmas Day ! I am heartily 
 glad to hear of so much decided improvement, but it will be 
 a weak point always and require great care ; — even at the 
 expense of having a fell of hair like a German. 
 
 If he cannot get it cut at home, he deserves to have his 
 head shaved for that last expedition. What would Dr. 
 
 S say, only I can't tell him. I hope you, Mrs. Dilke, 
 
 preached a good sermon on it, and you will do well to read 
 him daily a moi-ning lesson out of the Bible, showing how 
 Samson lost all his strength by going and having his hair 
 cut. What an epitaph must I have written, if he had died 
 through that little outbreak of personal vanity : — 
 
 " Here lies Dilke, the victim to a whim, 
 Who went to have his hair cut, but the air cut him." 
 
 I certainly do not agree any more than Dr. Johnson as to 
 his being a Cys^ercian ; from the great tenderness, the evil 
 did not seem to me to be so deeply seated as Dr. B. sup- 
 posed, but nearer the surface ; I have now great hope of 
 him— barring barbers — and especially that leaving Somerset 
 House ; the change will perhaps add to his years, and let 
 him live a double number, provided always he don't come up 
 the Rhine again. I am always happy to see friends — but 
 really I do wish you had not come, for now we have nothing
 
 r 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 199 
 
 BO agreeable to look forward to, and not mnch at present to 
 look back upon ! I wonder if the visit will ever be returned 
 — shall I ever go down the Rhine and drop in at Lower 
 Grosvenor Place ] 
 
 1 live in hope of the first part at least ; I try to fill up 
 my own cavities instead of the sexton's by every care I can 
 take ; for instance, I am sailing on Temperance principles. 
 I drank your health, and the compliments of the season to 
 you yesterday, in a glass of Jane's ginger wine ; and at 
 night, being Christmas, indulged in a glass of — lemonade ! 
 As for you, Maria, having lost your sides, you must expect 
 to be always middling, but no more spasms ! So huzza for 
 us all — who knows but our united ages may become worthy 
 of a newspaper paragraph, some forty years hence ? 
 
 I am glad you relish the " Comic " so well : indeed I 
 always try that it shall not fall off, whatever its sale may 
 do — that the fault may be the public's, not the private's. 
 But it seems doomed never to be early — thanks to that 
 slug-a-bed, Katchen, and her German phlegm, it was some 
 three weeks after it should have been out. 
 
 In the meantime, I will give you some particulars of my 
 excursion. You have heard how well I got through my first 
 day's ride— it was a fine morning, and we crossed part of 
 that flat which surrounds Leipzig — what an immense flat it 
 is ! An ocean of sand literally stretching beyond the reach 
 of the eye. It seems to have been intended for the grand 
 armies of Europe to decide their differences on. That is to 
 say, if Natui-e or Providence ever intended to form con- 
 venient plains for wholesale butcheries, of which I have some 
 doubt. 
 
 However, it is classic ground to the soldier, as several 
 great battles have taken place in the neighbourhood. The 
 next morning, I packed up and started at four, and after
 
 200 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 rather a longer spell got to Brenha, where I found my 
 quarters at a sort of country inn and butcher's shop rolled 
 into one. I only breakfasted at Brenha — spending the rest 
 
 of my time at a chateau of Baron B 's, with De Franck 
 
 and the Captain — the old Major-domo, the image of a 
 Scotchman, doing the honours. He sent down to invite me, 
 and thenceforward I boarded at the chateau, and only slept 
 and breakfasted at the inn. I had the prettiest girl in the 
 place for my waitress — and told her I was a prisoner of 
 state on parole with the regiment, which interested her in 
 my favour, I suppose : anyhow it brought up the mother — 
 dram bottle in hand — who sat herself down, teCe-ct-tete, at 
 the table, and seemed determined to hear all the rights of 
 it : but 1 grew very strong in English, and her curiosity could 
 get nothing out of me. At the chateau we lived like fighting- 
 cocks, and drank a very good wine, made on the estate, as 
 good as much of the Rhenish. 
 
 We had a sort of under-steward for our host, and for our 
 waiting-maid an ugly, grisly female, with the addition of an 
 outlandish head-dress, and a huge frill — stiff, and fastened 
 behind to her cap, so that she was in a sort of pillory. The 
 pretty girl at the inn did not get half so much of my atten- 
 tion. The fare — poultry, jack, carp, beetroot, neat's tongue. 
 I saw in the farm-yard some very fair pigs — one with a stiff 
 neck — his head regularly fixed on one side ; some excellent 
 Polish fowls ; and in a long stable a range of fine-ish cows, 
 with a long solid bench before them, where each had a cir- 
 cular hollow sc(joped for it like a bason. I have seen tables 
 for human beasts, in Berkshire, with the dishes and platters 
 scooped out in like fashion — not a bad plan for sea-faring 
 furniture — not over cleanly, perhaps, but fast and not break- 
 able. There was also a garden and a fish-pond in it. 
 
 The next day being a rest, we spent at the same place, and
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 201 
 
 we went trolling, the steward giving us leave, in a mill-stream, 
 where we only caught one little jack before dinner, who had 
 tried to swallow the bait, a carp as broad as himself. We 
 brought both into the house, as they were, by the way of a 
 curiosity, but leaving tackle and all in the passage, during 
 dinner, we hooked the favourite cat to boot, who had taken 
 the bait too. Our bad sport in the moruing procured us 
 leave for the afternoon, in the garden pond, a sort of preserve, 
 where we immediately hooked a good large jack. As soon 
 as the line went off under the weeds, I pulled out my watch 
 to give the fish eight or ten minutes to pouch the bait, while 
 De Franck stood still as a statue with the rod ; the captain 
 up at his window wondering what solemn operation was 
 going on. At last we got him, a good jack ; then a second, 
 a third, and a fourth, the face of the steward lengthening at 
 each catch in the most laughable manner. He evidently 
 thought we should " distress the water," as it is technically 
 termed. Jack are much esteemed, you must know, in Inland 
 Germany, and the old man was quite glad when we packed 
 up our tackle. He was comforted at last to find, three were 
 80 little hurt, that they might be thrown in again. But he 
 told us half in joke, half in earnest, when we came again he 
 should set a watch over all his ponds. 
 
 Three years since there were four thousand trees blown 
 down on the estate by a storm, they stopped all the roads 
 iu the neighbourhood, which took fourteen days in clearing ; 
 and some of the trees are not yet removed. 
 
 They must have bad some such treats in Germany else- 
 where, I guess, during the late hurricanes. At the inn I 
 had one dinner, one supper, bed twice, and two breakfasts, 
 for ten groschen, or one shilling. But these bye-places are 
 poor, and a little money goes a great way. Here I not only 
 found soap for the first time in Germany, but a place in the
 
 202 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 bason expressly for holding it. The Saxons seemed generally 
 good sort of people. Our next march took us across the 
 
 Elbe to Wittenberg. A Lieutenant J , an old crony of 
 
 De Franck's, met us on the bridge, and insisted on our 
 dining with him, so we got leave, dined at the Casino, and 
 J showed me the lions of the place. 
 
 As to Luther's statue, I could not help thinking of Friar 
 John, in Rabelais, as a brother of the same order. Thinks T 
 to mj'self, so I am to thank that fellow up there for being a 
 Protestant ! I had remarked at Wittenberg the peculiar tall 
 glasses, a full foot high, with a glass cover (no stems), and 
 afterwards at Berlin I saw Luther's drinking-cup, or vessel, 
 
 made after the same jolly fashion. J showed me his 
 
 residence, now a College, where he said a good deal of mysti- 
 cism prevails. J— drove with us, in a hired carriage, to 
 
 our quarters, about an hour's ride through deep sand to 
 Pruhlitz, a very tiny village. We passed, by the way, a well 
 miraculously discovered by Luther when he was dry, by a 
 scratch of his staff in the sand — he looked more like the 
 tapper of ale barrels. In our quarters I had for a wonder, a 
 four-jwst bed with the old feather beds below and above, and 
 as the bed was made at an angle of thirty five degrees, I 
 slept little more than I should have done on a " Russian 
 mountain," always sliding down^nd getting up again. Here- 
 abouts this slant was quite the fashion. Partridges are so 
 plentiful about Leipsic and Wittenberg, as to be three 
 groschen the brace. Next morning we got to the Mark of 
 Brandenburg. 
 
 When we arrived here, the whole population had turned 
 out to see us, as military do not often appear in such parts. 
 The females look very picturesque — for the single wear black 
 head-dresses, the married red ones, quite a game of rouge et 
 now. I don't think Cook could have been more wondered
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 203 
 
 at by the Sandwichers, than I was by the Nichelites. A 
 party waited in front of the house, and pointed me out 
 whenever I came to the window, and stared with only the 
 glass between us, as heartily as if they had really been sheep 
 and not merely skins. The Captain of the 11th Company 
 (mine was the 10th) called politely to see how I was lodged. 
 * * * I was much amused in the evening to see the 
 gaunt hogs trotting home of their own accord, from I know 
 not where — each going into his own quarters as regularly as 
 we did — and the geese the same, though some next door 
 houses were infinitely to appearance more selectable than 
 their neighbours, 
 
 I saw a goose wait for a long while at a house, where no 
 door happened to be open, till at last she was admitted. I 
 will give you a recipe for our dinner. First make some 
 rice-milk rather watery, and strew in a few raisins. Then 
 cut a fowl in pieces, six perhaps, and make a broth with it. 
 Pour the first dish and the second together, and the mess is 
 made. We had two beds for three ; so De Franck slept on 
 the straw. Next morning we got to Belitz ; from here we 
 rode across to Schlunkendorf, quartered with De Franck and 
 another at a miller's. Miller's by the way, are the best 
 quarters everywhere, though we got but two beds, and so 
 De Franck was littered down. I went out after dinner, and 
 could see nothing but a sandy waste with a windmill. In 
 my yellow boots, and figured robe (Mrs. D.'s present), I was 
 not at all out of costume, fbr such an Arabian-like scene. 
 Next day being a rest, I took advantage of it to push on to 
 Potsdam to see all I could. Here ended my actual marching 
 with the regiment. For the next morning the king came to 
 Potsdam to review it. He was much pleased ; but as an 
 instance of his love for military minutiae, and correct ear, 
 when they were giving him cheers, the huzzas and the drums
 
 204 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 did not time exactly together, and he exclaimed " What 
 beating is that 1 " 
 
 Everything about Potsdam smacks of the Great little 
 Frederic, but nothing is more striking than the superabund- 
 ance of statues. They swarm ! — there is a whole garrison 
 turned into marble or stone, good, bad, and indifferent. 
 They are as numerous in the garden as the promenaders ; 
 there is a Neptune group, for example, without even the 
 apology of a pond. The same at Sans Souci — in fact, every- 
 where. The effect, to my taste, is execrable, or ridiculous. 
 Solitude and stillness seem the proper attributes of a statue. 
 We have no notion of marbles mobbing. I saw, of course, 
 all the apartments and relics of Fredenc. The chairs torn 
 by his dogs, his writing-table, &c. The Watteaus on the 
 walls, containmg the recurring belle Barberini, pleased me 
 much ; he seems to give a nature to courtliness, and a court- 
 liness to nature, that make palace-gardens more like fairy- 
 land, and their inhabitants more like Loves and Graces than 
 I fear they be in reality. I was much interested by a portrait 
 of Napoleon when consul (said to be very like), over a door 
 in the palace. It had a look of melancholy as well as 
 thought, with an expression that seemed to draw the heart 
 towards him. There must have been something likeable 
 about him, to judge by the attachment and devotion of 
 some of his adherents ; but I could not help believing 
 before the picture, that when younger, he had been of a 
 kinder and more benevolent disposition than is generally 
 8uj)posed. 
 
 One of the other curiosities was the present king's bed — a 
 mere crib. I visited the Peacock Island, of which I thought 
 little ; and two of the country-seats, the Crown Prince's and 
 Prince Charles's. The first in the style of 'an Italian villa, 
 with frescoes, in the medallions of which are introduced
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 205 
 
 portraits of personal friends, (fee. ; but tlie German phy- 
 siognomy does not match well with the Italianesqne. The 
 public are admitted into the gardens — even when the Prince 
 is enjoying himself in them with his parties : this is very, 
 almost ultra-liberal ; but it seems to me a German taste to 
 enjoy nothing without this publicity. At Prince Charles's 
 (he is attached to the sea, and wished to be a sailor) I saw 
 some annuals on his table, and an English caricature ; also 
 English prints and pictures hung in the rooms. He is partial 
 to us, and I entered my name in a book he keeps to know of 
 his visitors. I saw some fine pictures in the gallery — Titians ; 
 a most miraculous luing hand of flesh and blood, as it seemed 
 to me to be, in one of them. 
 
 I entertained some of the oflBcers here to luncheon ; they 
 dined by invitation with the Guards, who gave them a 
 dinner, first for the king, and secondly for themselves. 
 I saw here the Russian colony, living in cottages d, la 
 Suisse. I saw, of course, the famous mill that beat Frederic 
 in a battle, like Don Quixote ; and I sat down at Frederic's 
 table where he worked, with a statue of Justice in sight 
 through a window at the opposite end of the room — "a 
 conceit ! a miserable conceit !'' — that he might always keep 
 justice in view. An acted pun ! As his favourite dogs were 
 all buried with a tombstone apiece, very near Justice's feet, 
 there ought to have been some meaning there, too ; but I 
 could not find or invent it, unless that Justice had more to 
 do with dead dogs than with living ones. 
 
 The garrison church, externally, looks like an arsenal, 'tis 
 so be-stuck with helmets, flags, and military trophies, carved 
 in stone ; but in the interior it is worth one's while to go 
 into a dark narrow tomb, just under the organ, only to 
 reflect on the strange chances of finding Frederic and his 
 father so near, and yet so peaceable, as they lie side by side
 
 206 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 not " lovely and pleasant in their lives, but in their deaths 
 
 not divided." 
 
 # » * * • 
 
 And now, my dear D., with kind regards to Mrs. Dilke, 
 
 Believe me ever 
 
 Your faithful friend, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 On returning from Berlin, my father settled down to com- 
 plete, as far as possible, the matter and drawings for his 
 German book. In one of my mother's letters to England, 
 she says, " You will be glad to hear Hood intends seriously 
 to study German during the winter, and I don't mean to let 
 his purpose cool. He talks of seeing more of Germany in 
 tlie spring." (Here my father seems to have been at his old 
 tricks again of embellishing my mother's letters, for there 
 follows in his own handwriting.) " At present Germany has 
 seen him. As at Berlin there was London porter, reasonable 
 Cheshire cheese, to say nothing of caviare, smoked goose 
 breasts, and other relishes, he says he regularly ' tilled his 
 cavities.' After the discipline his stomach underwent in 
 such villages as Schlunkendorf and Nichel it is so much 
 improved in its tone, that I have very little of my old 
 trouble, and it was a trouble, in suiting it. He swears that 
 he eats ' wiirst ' even with a relish. I wish he had marched 
 a year ago, and almost regret with Mr. Dilke that he 
 is not in the army. I mean to make him a present of a 
 walking-stick on New- Year's day, and to make him trot 
 out on en-ands." 
 
 The German book "Up the Rhine," progressed favour- 
 ably, the "Comic Annual" coming out as usual. I can just 
 recollect the actual finish of the latter. My fatlier always
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 207 
 
 wrote most by iii[;ht, when all was quiet and the bustle of 
 the day and the noise of us children stilled in sleep. This 
 year I recollect being waked by hearing my father and 
 mother in the next room, packing the little box of drawings 
 and MSS. to send off by steamer to England. When they 
 found I was awake my mother came in apd rolled me up in 
 a huge shawl, installing me in an arm-chair; we then finished 
 up with a merry supper, though it must have been nearer 
 morning than night, my father, relieved from the anxiety 
 and worry of his work, brightening up through all his fatigue, 
 and joking and laughing quite cheerfully. Each following 
 year did these finishing suppers take place, to celebrate the 
 completion of the " Comic Annual" 
 
 ^r _^ _)1 
 
 'Vi/-t/-^-o 
 
 i>i<^A^y /3i'r-d. 
 
 CL'n^vj^ 
 
 Jo/^ yu ^i^CO^
 
 208 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS ROOD. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1837. 
 
 A.t Coblenz — Letters to Mr. "Wright, Lieut, de Franck, and Dr. Elliot — 
 Leaves Coblenz— Settles at Ostend — Letters to Mr. Wright, Dr. Elliot, 
 and Mr. Dilke. 
 
 In the beginning of 1837 my father finally made up his 
 mind to leave Coblenz. Among other reasons, the difficulty 
 of sending backwards and forwards was really serious. " A 
 month to come, and a month to go," as he writes to 
 Mr. Wright, " makes a serious difference in time to me, 
 and throws out all my plans." In these days of easy railway 
 locomotion, when there is even a line almost over those 
 primitive wilds he travelled through on his march, this time 
 seems fabulous. It is curious to think how all these increased 
 facilities for travelling must have civilised those remote 
 places, — such as Schlunkendorf and Nichel, — and trans- 
 formed, I will not say improved, the Schultz and his fellow- 
 villagers of the sheepskin robes into very ordinary German 
 peasants, with fewer outlandish characteristics, and with 
 possibly less honesty. 
 
 752, Alten Graben, Coblenz, IZth Januari/, 1837. 
 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 I have no doubt but the Count you are doing some 
 cuts for, is the same that Prince Radziwill mentioned to me, 
 as engaged on a work on modern German art. The Prince 
 alluded to the excellence of our wood-cutting* You would 
 do well to send the Count some of your best specimens ; I 
 
 * Those who remember the rudeness of the Comic cuts, or even those of 
 " Up the Rhine," will smile at this. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 209 
 
 saw some wretched German woodcuts in the BeiHn ex- 
 hibition. I think the name I recollect was something like 
 Raczynski. I should not be surprised if seeing the Comic 
 had suggested you to him as good wood-engravers. The 
 Germans cannot cut ; and if they could make fine cuts, 
 couldn't print them. And yet Albert Diirer, a German, was 
 the founder of the art. I am hard at work at my German 
 book. You will soon have a box. Some of the subjects are 
 larger than usual, and must be printed the long way of 
 the page. 
 
 I have no time to write more, except to present all good 
 wishes and seasonable compliments to yourself and Mrs. W. 
 Pray remember me kindly to all friends, not forgetting poor 
 Ned Smith. Did I name a book for Harvey 1 But I trust 
 to you, who know my wishes, to rectify all casual mistakes 
 and omissions. 
 
 I am, my dear Wright, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 I shall write a chapter on German Draughts (of Air), and 
 their invention of cold-traps. I have a stiff neck, that goes 
 all down my back, and then comes up the other side, thanks 
 to their well-staircases and drying-lofts in the attics. 
 
 752, Alten Graben, Coblenz, April 23rcZ, 1837. 
 
 My dear Johnny, 
 
 Aren't you glad to hear now that I've only been ill 
 and spitting blood three times since I left you, instead of 
 being veiy dead indeed, as you must have thought fi-om my 
 very long silence. I began a letter, indeed, a long while 
 ago ; but, on hearing of the setting ofi" of the box, I waited 
 
 VOL. X. 14
 
 210 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 for its arrival, and a precious wait it was. Only a month 
 and three days, and my box was still longer in going to 
 London. Hurrah for German commerce ! It must thrive 
 famously with such a quick ti'ansit ! One might almost as 
 well be in America. 
 
 I had a sharp brush with the Customs' officers after all, for 
 they wanted to unpack it at the office, which I would not 
 stand. I think I scared Deubel, I was in such a rage ; but 
 I gained my point. You know last year they offered to send 
 an officer to the house, and even declined to see it at all ; so 
 I told them. There was a full declaration of every article, 
 and I was charged for *' plumbing" by which I understand 
 the putting of leaden seals on, but there was no trace of any- 
 thing of the kind. To make it worse I have since ascertained 
 that the scoundrels had already opened it at Emmerich. 
 This has been such a sickener to me that I have made up my 
 mind to leave this place, with no very pleasant recollections 
 of its courtesy towards strangers. 
 
 However, I shall have my revenge : the materials of my 
 book are in London, and so let the Rhinelanders look out for 
 squalls. I hope you will like the tackle; it all came safe ; 
 and Wright assures me it is the very best made, and at the 
 wholesale price. I send the Prince's and Wildenbruch's at 
 the same time. The bad weather for fishing hitherto will 
 make the delay of less consequence. Did you ever know 
 such hot and cold, such snow and rain ? It has been killing 
 work ; we were all well " gripped ; " and a nasty insidious 
 disease it is, leaving always its marks behind it. I have got 
 all my books (save one, which is out of print) for the Prince, 
 in the newest fashion of binding. 
 
 Tim, says he, I laughed heartily at your description of the 
 fishing at Brombcrg, for you seemed in a whimsical dilemma 
 enough ; and so, after wishing with all your heart, soul, and
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 211 
 
 strength to be within reach of salmon, you were frightened at 
 them when you had them at hand ! 
 
 I should be rather nervous for my tackle myself. It 
 
 would have been no use writing to R , who knows no 
 
 more about it than I do ; nor have I any practical salmon- 
 fisher of my acquaintance — they are chiefly Scotch and Irish. 
 But I am pretty certain of this point, that there is nothing 
 peculiar in it from other fly-fishing, but that all use stronger 
 tackle, larger bright flies, big as butterflies, and that you 
 must play with the fish a wonderful deal more, — say half or 
 three-quarters of an hour, — to wear them out. There is a 
 famous winch and line coming with this. If I were you, 
 I would get up some sort of a German rod extempore, put 
 this winch on it, and make the experiment before risking 
 your good rod. For myself, Johnny, I must give up all 
 hope of ever wetting a line at Bromberg ; not only are my 
 marching days over, but I fear I shall never be able to travel 
 again. I am now sure that this climate, so warm in summer 
 and so cold in winter, does not suit my English blood. 
 Inflammatory disorders are the besetting sin of the place. 
 
 Witness poor Dilke. And at my last attack Dr. told 
 
 me he saw the same thing every day. The man who bled 
 me, and there are several bleeders here, told me he had 
 attended eighty that month. Moreover, I had been not 
 merely moderate, but abstemious ; at one time only drank 
 Jane's ginger-wine, and at my last attack was actually only 
 taking two glasses of this wine a day. We even get good 
 English porter now at the Treves Hotel, and I dare not 
 touch it I 
 
 This low diet does not at all suit me. When I was a boy 
 I was so knocked about by illness, and in particular by a 
 scarlet fever so violent that it ended in a dropsy, that as 
 I grew up I only got over by living rather well Besides,
 
 212 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 as all doctors know, studious pursuits exhaust the body 
 extremely, and require stimulus at times, so I have made up 
 my mind to decamp. My present idea is per Cologne and 
 Aix to Ostend or Antwerp, when I shall be able to get over 
 to England in a few hours at any time, if necessary ; and 
 should I get strength to travel, I can see something of 
 Belgium and France. I rather incline to Ostend on account 
 of the sea air, which always does me great good. I shall regret 
 the children not completing their German here ; but the 
 difficulty of intercourse (which neutralises all my efforts to 
 be early with my books) and the climate forbid it ; and, in 
 addition, I have quite a disgust to Coblenz, or rather its 
 
 inhabitants. I have begim German myself, through L , 
 
 but that must be at an end. I find him as a German Jew 
 better than the Jew Germans of the place. I have not seen 
 the General, " cos why ? " I have only crossed the door three 
 times, perhaps six, since I carae from Berlin. But I shall 
 call some day before I go. Wlien my plan is once arranged 
 I shall go at once. Towards the end of this month, I 
 suppose, I shall trouble the chub again for the last time. 
 I have some famous large chub flies by the box — some like 
 small cockchafers. I am not sure whether ray chest will 
 stand the casting. It is miserable work, Tim, to be such 
 a shattered old fellow as I am ; when you, who are in years 
 my senior, are gallivanting and like a boy of nineteen ! The 
 artist who is coming out to take my portrait will have a nice 
 elderly grizzled head to exhibit ! What ! that pale, thin, 
 long face the Comic ! Zounds ! I must gammon him, and 
 get Some friend to sit for me. Apropos, I sent up two 
 months ago a box full of sketches of my Rhine book ; and 
 
 I had managed such a portrait of D in a llhenish spare 
 
 bed ! I have drawn, too, the captain who gave me leave to 
 make use of his jolly red nose, Mr. Schultz, Mrs, Schultz
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 213 
 
 and all, not forgetting the maid in the pillory-ruff at Burg- 
 Kremuitz. D'ye know, Johnny, I half suspect the Rhine- 
 landers opened my box going down, and were not best 
 pleased at my sketches of some of the dirty dandies here- 
 abouts, which perhaps makes 'em so uncivil. Should all 
 happen that I have wished to the Coblenzers iu general, and 
 the Douane in particular, during the last ten days, they will 
 be far from comfortable. Only imagine that I blessed 
 everything for them down to their pipes ! They have the 
 worst of the French character without the best of the 
 German. I have no news to tell you about them : how 
 should we pick up any, for we are not on speaking terms 
 with any one in the place, save the two teachers 1 Nor have 
 I been to the Military Casino, so that I cannot answer your 
 inquiry how the young ladies take the loss of the 19th. 
 
 I have just asked L if there is any local news. He 
 
 knows nothing except that this last winter there have beien 
 more balls and parties than usual, so that the ladies have 
 not kept their faith to the 19th. 
 
 As to the breaking off the verlobhing with Von B. we have 
 not heard one word about it. How should we 1 Perhaps it 
 is not true, but has only been reported to quiz you, and 
 make you fancy you have a chance again. But I will drop 
 that subject, or I shall make you as savage as you were one 
 night with me and Wildegans, and even with yourself, till I 
 expected you would call yourself out. Oh, Tim, she enjoyed 
 hitting you over the heart, like the man who had a donkey 
 with " a bit of raw." 
 
 She is learning English, of course for your sake says you — 
 but I forget ! I see you in fancy twisting your moustaches 
 and pouting. 
 
 Since writing the foregoing, Tim, I am a little better ; but 
 wasn't I in luck, after spitting blood and being bled, to catch
 
 2U MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 the rheumatism in going down-stairs. I ordered leeches on 
 my foot, and the wounds bled all night, so I was uncommonly 
 low, as you may imagine. I suppose I shall get out some 
 day. This morning I was going to have a ride for the first 
 time, but it clouded over, and I gave it up. What a precious 
 season we have had — eight mouths' winter. But now the ice 
 will be broken up, and you wiU be blessing me for not sending 
 your tackle. 
 
 What do you think, Tim, of a black man, who, by dancing 
 and singing one little song called "Jim Crow," has cleared, in 
 London and America, 30,000Z. ! There's one string to your 
 bow for you ! I never heard of the history of the bit of 
 Stilton that went on to Bromberg. The Cheshire we send 
 makes Welsh rabbits well — don't forget to try it. Also you 
 will find some ginger for ginger-beer. I send a box of 
 lozenges for " Ganserich,'' for the cold drill mornings. 1 
 shall always be glad that I saw you as far on your road as 
 I could ; but when I look back and think how very little I 
 have stirred out of the house ever since I came from Berlin, 
 that march seems to me a dream. 
 
 I do not think that the book about it will come out before 
 the next Comic. I have been so delayed, the spring season 
 for pubHshing is over. You'll be sure to have it. I have 
 drawn you just as you came dripping out of the Lahn, and I 
 mean to try some way or other to commemorate Wildegans. 
 Tom Junior does not forget any of you. The other day he 
 pointed to that old fat major or colonel of the 29th, who 
 walks about with a thick stick, and laughed, and said : 
 " There is Franck." 
 
 He says "Franck brought Bello— Bello is Tom's dog"— and 
 he always toasts " Vildidans and Tarlyvitz" when he gets a drop 
 of wine. He talks a strange jumble of English and German, 
 and English according to the German Grammar. " That is
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 215 
 
 hims," " There is you's chair," " Will you lend it for me," 
 &c., &c. Fanny is very well again, and very good ; Jane is 
 as usual ; she is now drinking porter, at which I look half 
 savage. Only think, porter and Cheshire cheese, and I 
 daren't take both ! I mustn't even sip, and I long to swig. 
 Nothing but water. I shall turn a fish soon, and have the 
 pleasure of angling for myself. I am almost melancholy, for 
 I never had any serious fears about my health before ; my 
 lungs were always good. But now I think they are touched 
 too. I've had a sort of plaister on my chest, which will not 
 heal; but I won't bother you with my symptoms. In spite 
 of all this, I oi'dered this morning a new fishing-jacket — a 
 green one : so you see I mean to show fight, and keep on my 
 legs as long as I can. But one must reckon the fishing 
 calendar a month later ; those that used to spawn in May 
 will do it in June, I expect. Of course they woiild not 
 come out while there was snow. I meant to have got some 
 gudgeons this month, which is the prime, or, ought lo be the 
 best, season — but this is all gone by. I have such difficulty 
 in writing, I cannot send you so long a letter as I should 
 wish ; it is some exertion to me at present to think of any- 
 thing ; I am obliged to keep myself quiet. 
 
 I cannot give more particular messages, for the names are 
 very difficult to spell — but I trust to you not to omit my 
 compliments to every officer of my acquaintance in our regi- 
 ment. I must, however, especially name my own quarter- 
 comrades Von Bonkowski, and Von Heugel, of whose atten- 
 tions I retain a grateful impression, often recurring in 
 memory to Hagelstadt, Burg Kremnitz, Nichel, and Schlun- 
 kendorf. Pray give me all the regimental news when you 
 write. I shall not leave here till June — and, at all events, 
 you shall hear from me before I move. We have our 
 lodgings till 15th July, but shall not stay so long as that;
 
 216 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 and now, old fellow, God bless you, and send you all sorts of 
 luck, and happiness, and sport, and promotion — everything 
 you wish. May you pull out salmons, and may salmons pull 
 you in, but without drowning you. I say, Tim, says he, if I 
 was at Bromberg wouldn't we have fun ; but that's over. 
 So as Mahomet said to the mountain — " why if I can't come 
 to you, why you must come to me." Farewell and Amen, 
 says, my dear Johnny, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Rather better to-night. 
 
 Your box leaves here with this — acknowledge receipt 
 of all. 
 
 752, Alten Gkabkn, Saturday, 29<A Api'U, 1837. 
 My dear France, 
 
 I quite forgot to ask in my letter for what I 
 wanted. If you can spare it then, not otherwise, please to 
 send me the book the old clergyman gave you on the march, 
 of military songs, 
 
 I mean that where he says his sweetheart is his belt, his 
 knapsack, his firelock, &c., &c. ; if you have it not, tell me 
 the name of it. 
 
 So we are going; that's decided — on the 1st of June — a 
 week earlier if we can get all our arrangements made. I 
 am better, and feel quite pleased with the thought of 
 leaving Coblenz, of which I am heartily sick — for it has 
 nothing now to make us regret it, but the mere beauty of 
 the scenery. We shall go to Ostend for the sea, if we do 
 not like it to Bruges, Ghent, or Brussels, for as I do not 
 expect to come to the Contuient agam, I mean to see a little 
 of Flanders and France, should I be strong enough, whik
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 217 
 
 there ; and then we are so near we can pass over to England 
 in a few houcs whenever we like. 
 
 Dilke says he will not swear he worit come over to see us, 
 tliough he had such bad luck in his visit to us here. There 
 is a gentleman coming out shortly with the Comics, so I will 
 send you one, and one for Prince Charles, if you like to send 
 it. By the time you receive this I hope you will have your 
 box quite safe. Don't forget to toast some of your cheese, 
 it makes famous Welsh rabbits. We sup on them four 
 nights a week. I suppose, Johnny, all my fishing will 
 "suffer a sea change," and I must adapt my tackle for 
 flounders, soles, whiting, cod, and mackerel. 
 
 As to wittles and di-ink, Cobleuz is worse than ever. 
 There is no Bavarian beer now, and no Westphalian hams ! 
 Deubel pulls a very long face at our going, and no wonder, 
 for there are lists of " lodgings to let " as long as your arm. 
 I never saw so many before. I am riding out every fine 
 day to gain strength, and bid good bye to the views. We 
 don't take Katchen with us, who has been trying hard to 
 go, as well as to be made residuary legatee as to all our 
 things here — modest impudence ! 
 
 And now, old fellow, God bless you. I will write again 
 with the " Comic " when it comes. The Dilkes desire kind 
 remembrance to you ; so does Jane, and Fanny ditto, and 
 Tom ditto ditto. Don't forget me to all the 19th, including 
 the stafi", and believe me, from my top joint to my butt, 
 
 My dear Tim, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood.
 
 218 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 752, Alien Graben, Coblentz, April 29th, 1837. 
 My dear Doctor, 
 
 Many thanks for your kind letter; it positively 
 did me good. But you seem seldom to put pen to paper 
 without that- effect, whether in letters or prescriptions. I 
 wrote a very brief notice of the state of my health to 
 Mr. Wright. 
 
 The Germans drink low sour wines, and have a horror 
 here of anything that heats them in the way of drink, such 
 as Spanish wine, &c. Yet, iu spite of this care, they are 
 subject to inflammatory attacks very commonly. The grippe 
 here took that character very decidedly. 
 
 Fanny was obliged to have leeches on her face. Tom's 
 was highly inflamed, and had a great discharge from his 
 nose and behind his ear, which were very sore. Mr. Dilke's 
 attack here was attended with strong inflammation. We 
 have heard only yesterday of an English lady obliged to 
 have leeches ; in fact, there are standing advertisements in 
 the town papers where leeches are to be had cheap. I know 
 of three barber-surgeons who bleed ; there may be more. 
 The one who bled me in February is only just set up, and 
 he told me he had bled eighty that month ; one may say 
 two hundred and fifty, between the three operators, with 
 safety. Inflamed eyes are extremely common here, and 
 there is a peculiar inflammation of the whole face called the 
 "rose." I dare say the causes may be found in the very 
 great changes of temperature here, both abroad and at home. 
 The sun is very much warmer than in England, and the 
 winds are much colder. 
 
 It is dangerous to pass from the sun into the shade. Then 
 in the houses their mode of building is the worst possible.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 2ift 
 
 This one is a fair sample. Below, a passage right tlxrough 
 the house, "with front door to the street and back door to 
 the yard, always open till after ten at night. From the 
 middle of this passage a well-staircase right up through 
 the house, terminating in the garrets, where the high roofs 
 are full of unglazed windows or holes, for the special purpose 
 of creating draughts for drying linen. On this stair, or 
 on open landings, all your room-doors open ; so that you step 
 out of a close stove-heated room into a thorough draught of 
 the street air. I tried it once by thermometer : the room 
 was 60°, and outside 45°. The winters are very cold, and 
 doubly so in these comfortless buildings. I used to fancy 
 the Germans never cut their hair, by way of defence against 
 cold in the head ; but I saw two fight the other day, and the 
 hair was of the greatest feminine use, namely, to pull at. 
 My last attack of spitting blood came on the moment after 
 going down the stairs ; and the first time I came up them 
 again I caught the rheumatism, and had leeches on my 
 foot, which bled all night. So I am somewhat reduced, and 
 the diet here is anything but nourishing. Take for example 
 the present bill of fare : no fish ever, no poultry now, no 
 game of course, never any pork, veal killed at a week old, 
 beef from cart-cows, and plough-bullocks, which when cold 
 is as dry and almost as white as a deal board. The very 
 bread is bad, poor wheat mixed with rye and inferior meals. 
 The people are poor, and the ground is wretchedly over- 
 cropped. It is a beautiful country indeed to the eye, but I 
 shall not regret leaving it. There are no books within 
 reach, and no society, which I need not to care about, for 
 the torpidity or apathy of mind in these people is beyond 
 belief. German phlegm is no fable ; but you will have a 
 book about them next half-year, with plenty of sketches. 
 The communication, too, with London is so vexatious and
 
 220 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Blow (it takes above a month) as to be a serious evil to me. 
 I had resolved on a change on this account alone, when ray 
 last illness clenched my decision. We are going to Ostend, 
 where I shall be not only within reach of England, but hope 
 to be benefited by the sea-air, which always did me the 
 most marked good. I have tried in vain to master German, 
 partly from its difiBculty, and partly from having only the 
 intervals between my attacks for all I had to write or draw. 
 But Fanny talks it fluently, and Tom understands it per- 
 fectly, as well as English. Fanny is very well now ; and 
 Tom a fine hearty fellow, full of fun, which his motley jargon 
 makes very comic. The " /ane," too, wears very well. For 
 myself, I keep up my spirits on my toast-and-water, which 
 is all I drink, save tea and coffee, and seem rallying again. 
 I have a sort of appetite, too, if there were anything worth 
 eating. 
 
 I really cannot do as the invalids do here. Mrs. Deubel, 
 our landlady, as the first luxury on recovering from the 
 grippe, comforted her inside with a mess of dried bullaces in 
 sour wine ! Head only tells half the truth, for instance, of 
 the breeches maker, who ate a bowl-full of plums; but he 
 doesn't hint that he swallowed all the stones. I know that's 
 their way of eating cherries ! I could tell you some strange 
 stories. The mortality here has been great, but of young 
 children it is painfully so all the year round. And no 
 wonder — the other day a mother called in a barber-surgeon 
 to save expense. The child had a rash — he put ice on the 
 head — turned the red spots blue and black, and it died. 
 
 When we are at Ostend you will perhaps be tempted to 
 come over, and see us, and the country. 
 
 The cities in Belgium are interesting, and all within easy 
 reach. I think I shall make a strange sitting to an artist, 
 who wants my portrait for next year's exhibition!
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 221 
 
 I look more like the Rueful Knight than a Professor of 
 
 the Comic. 
 
 Pray tell Mrs. Elliot that the man at Moselweis, whither 
 we went by moonlight, who had only a bit of plum tart in 
 his house, failed subsequently, as might be expected, but 
 another has taken the gardens, and they are as popular as 
 ever. I hope it has not given her a taste for White Conduit 
 House, and the like. But it was a sample of our German 
 manners and amusements, 
 
 I have not learned smoking yet ; but hate it worse than 
 ever, since I see its effects on the mind and the person. 
 However, should I leave Germany, I have introduced anghng, 
 and am the Izaak Walton of the Pthine, Moselle, and Lahn. 
 
 I shall write a less selfish egotistical letter when I get to 
 Ostend, to tell you how it agrees with me, as well as some 
 little anecdotes, &c,, I have not now time or space to get in ; 
 besides being a little weary of holding my pen. I flag at 
 times rather suddenly, of course from weakness. Jane pro- 
 mises to write, too, when settled, in answer to Mrs. E.'s kind 
 letter, to whom she sends her kind regards with mine; and 
 Fanny begs to mingle — not forgetting Willy. 
 
 I am, my dear Doctor, 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 I was ordered lately a sort of slow blister on the cliest, 
 which would only stick on by help of strips of adhesive 
 plaister. 
 
 752, Altkn Graben, Coblkntz, May Uh, 1837. 
 Mt dear Wright, 
 
 As regards " Up the Rhine," I am glad you liked 
 the drawiugs; you are right about them, they will require
 
 222 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 engrmnng, and I should like them well done. They are not 
 like the Comic cuts, mere jokes; but portraits and fac- 
 similes of the people, &c., and should be correctly done. I 
 hope to make it altogether a superior book. I shall have 
 another set of good ones to send you; which you may show 
 to Harvey if you like. I have a rare bother about the box 
 with the Customs, It had been opened at the frontier; and 
 they wanted to open it again here. But I had them — some 
 wet had got in, and the blocks were almost wet, and one of 
 the bindings was a little stained by damp. I admire the 
 style of the Prince's books. I did not venture any more 
 than you to open the Prince's things, they seemed so well 
 packed, but sent them off as they were. 
 
 My fancies now are rather piscivorous, — I am thinking of 
 skate, brill, turbot, dabs, and flounders, and even what Jane 
 once resented so, a red-spotted plaice. I have at times 
 quite longed for oysters, fancying they would agree well 
 with me — they are considered so nourishing. Dilke would 
 call me a humbug if I say there's little nourishment on the 
 Rhine, but so it is, and it gets worse. Last year Bavarian 
 beer was to be had, none this ; Westphalian hams ditto. 
 And yet, oh yet when I look at the PJiine, it is a lovely 
 country, and I love the beautiful. I shall see all I can 
 before I go, as I can carry all the scenery vividly in my 
 mind. 
 
 • * •     
 
 I am glad to hear you liked my letters an copyi-ight: I 
 have got the '* Athenscum " with the second part. I think, 
 
 remembering T- , I let off the booksellers pretty easily. 
 
 I was glad at having such a subject in the " Athenseum:" 
 when I get nearer I hope to be in print there more fre- 
 quently; for here, things I should like to have my say on 
 are gone by before I can come at them. Ostend will be
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 223 
 
 next best to being in Loudon. I have some thoughts of 
 beginning a new series with next Comic if I can hit on any 
 novelty to distinguish it. I have a dim idea of one in my 
 head. 
 
 The heat here is sudden, and would try us all if we stayed 
 through June. Jane, who has conquered a little German 
 for household use, will have to learn a new jargon. They 
 talk, I believe, bad Dutch and French, and I expect English 
 also. The cities are very interesting, and easy to get to — 
 famous pictiu-es to be seen ; so, if you contemplate coming, 
 I will reserve my visits to them for your company. I have 
 lots of funny things to tell you. When Dilke was here I 
 did not get a single gossip with him, he was too ill to talk 
 or be talked toj and when better I was away at Berlin; so 
 I should also stand some chance here of dying of a sup- 
 pression of ideas. Jane is hearty in health now: Fanny 
 very good, reads a good deal, and remembers it to good 
 purpose. As for Tom, he is a fine, funny, spirited fellow, 
 with a good temper, and very strong. Yours that I remem- 
 ber must be getting into big boys. My godson ain't much 
 the better for his godfather's Christian looking-after, is he ? 
 And mine are away from their godparents among Roman 
 Catholics and Jews. Fanny makes crosses of wax, and Tom 
 is very fond of Passover cakes. Our maid is a Roman 
 Catholic, but the easiest one I ever saw. She confesses only 
 once a year, and very seldom goes to mass, from sheer 
 indolence. She is the most phlegmatic being I ever saw. 
 
 ** Should the whole frame of Nature round her hreak. 
 She unconcerned would hear the mighty crack — " 
 
 provided it did not hurt herself; a fig for German philosophy 
 — it's all selfishness. 
 
 Pray give our kindest regards to Mrs. Wright, and the
 
 224 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 same to yourself. I do now live in hopes to see you before 
 long, and so remain, 
 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Pray don't forget to remember me to E. Smith, and 
 recommend to him, in my name, to hold his shoulders 
 instead of his sides when he laughs. Did I ever tell you 
 that there is a young man over the way so like you we call 
 him "John Wright." N.B. I will try to fatten my face up 
 for Mr. Lewis against he comes ! " 
 
 •"o" 
 
 At this time we finally quitted Coblenz, travelling down 
 the Rhine by successive day's stages. The railroad was then 
 only just commencing, which has since afforded such increased 
 facilities of speed and comfort. It is to be regretted that 
 so little was known of Germany and Belgium in those days. 
 My father's constitution was as unfitted for the miasmatic 
 swamps and mists of Ostend, as for the alternate extremes 
 of heat and cold at Coblenz. But for his exile to these 
 countries — an exile which he underwent for the faults of 
 others — he might still be delighting the world with the later 
 fruit of a genius that had barely attained its maturity at the 
 time of his death. 
 
 39, Rue Longuk, Ostknd, June 28<A, 1837. 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 You will see from the above address that we are 
 not only safe here, but settled, after a prosperous but slow 
 journey ; so that it was luckily performed, with the advantage 
 of fine weather to boot. Our exit from Coblenz was worthy 
 et the entrance : the farce did not, like many modern ones,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 225 
 
 fall olf at the end. We had a famous row with our landlord. 
 He rushed up his own stairs, and shouted from the top, 
 *' Dumme Englauder ! " And then Jane had a scrimmage 
 
 with him. R i played the Italian traitor to both sides 
 
 all the time. Finally, just on the gunwale of the packet, as 
 it were, they gave us a finishing touch ; for Jane called to 
 pay a bookseller on the road, and he made her pay for a 
 number more than she had had. 
 
 As for Katchen, she cried at the parting point — partly, I 
 suppose, because we did not take her with us (for she told 
 all her friends she intended it), and partly because she was 
 bidding farewell to good wages and to enough to eat — a case, 
 by her own account, rather uncommon with servants in 
 Coblenz. We had a fine trip down to Cologne, lodged com- 
 fortably, and took a coach to Liege, with an old coachman, 
 oddly enough, of the very family we were going to visit. 
 Next night at Imperial Aix, and the following one, after a 
 long pull, and a fine, but tremendously hot day, at M. Nagel- 
 macher's at Liege. He has a beautiful country-seat an 
 hour's drive from the city; but I was so exhausted with heat 
 and fatigue I could scarcely speak, and kept my room all 
 the evening, but rested there, and enjoyed the two next days 
 exti-emely. 
 
 There are beautiful grounds, rhododendrons, hill, wood, 
 and all quite to my taste, with a superb view. Moreover, 
 one of the most amiable and accomplished families I ever 
 met with. The lady paints in oils beautifully. I really 
 took them for good Dutch pictures. A delightful, sweet girl 
 about twelve made Fanny very happy, and Tom raced about 
 like a young Red Indian, till he was half baked in the sun. 
 
 The Nagelmachers all speak French except Mademoiselle, 
 so that Jane had to sit very like the matron of the Deaf and 
 Dumb School ; but she made up for it with our friend Miss 
 
 VOL. X- 15
 
 226 MEMOHIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Moore. We parted sworn friends with the Nagelmachers ; 
 ate and slept wretchedly at a dirty inn at Tklemont; and 
 the next night reached Brussels, where we rested the Sun- 
 day, too tired to stir out, except the children, who went to 
 see St. Gudule. Besides, it was wet weather. We started next 
 day with a new coachman for Ghent. Slept at Ghent, and 
 thence by trackshuyt (or barge) through Bruges to this 
 place, where we arrived at seven in the evening in good style 
 rather as to fatigue, after such a long pull with children, 
 luggage, and bad health. I ventured to drink a glass of 
 porter on leaving Brussels, which helped me up amazingly, 
 as for four or five months previously I had not positively 
 touched wine, beer, or spirit, till that hour. I then thought 
 I might have held the curb too tightly, but there was no 
 more porter to be had all the rest of the way. Jane, of 
 course, is fatigued very much, but no moi'e than was to be 
 expected. 
 
 To do poor Fanny and Tom justice, they were models for 
 grown travellers, ate and drank whatever came before them, 
 slept when tu*ed, waked all alive, talked and made friends 
 with everybody — waiters, maids, coachmen, and all — so much 
 so, that the coach was loaded with large bouquets of purple 
 and white lilac, and other flowers : got into no scrapes except 
 from exuberant fun, and came in at the end as fresh as larks, 
 though almost roasted from sitting in the coach with their 
 backs to the sun and no blinds. 
 
 Give my remembrance to all, and come as soon, and stay 
 aa long, as you can, Jane begs to say ditto, as I feel sure it 
 will do me good, body and mind, to see friends. 
 
 Yoiu's, ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 227 
 
 39, Rue Lonoub, Ostbnd, ZOth June, 1837. 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 We have now been here a week, and 1 have exposed 
 myself to the sea-breeze to judge of its powers ; and, as it 
 has had no evil effect on my lungs, I begin to hope they are 
 not very unsound, and that in other respects for sea-side 
 enjoyment there cannot be a better place. 
 
 The Esplanade is very fine, and the sands famous for our 
 brats, who delight in them extremely. We munch shrimps 
 morning and night, as they are very abundant, and quite 
 revel in the fish. I have dined several days on nothing else, 
 and it is such a comfort to think of only that strip of sea 
 between us, quick communication by packets, and posts four 
 times a week, that I feel quite in spirits as to my work, and 
 hopeful as to my health. I am very weak, but otherwise as 
 well as can be expected from such repeated attacks. 
 
 But I have moved only just in time, for I feel convinced 
 the Rhine was killing me, between hurry, worry, delay, 
 tedium, disgust, the climate, and tlie diet, and the conscious- 
 ness, with all these disadvantages, of no very great improve- 
 ment besides in health. I write a long letter by this same 
 post to Dr. Elliot, with further particulars that I may have 
 the benefit of his advice, how to live and keep alive. 
 
 I have now the comfort of thinking, that whatever I may 
 Jo will not be long in reaching you, whether blocks or MS. 
 It will even be possible here to see the proofs ; not that I 
 undervalue your kindness in that respect, but the German 
 book would have unusual difficulties as to names, words, &c. 
 I shall see some of the Germans here, as some come for 
 bathing ; and I propose, if strong enough, to take a trip, by- 
 aud-by, through the old Flemish cities, which are well worth
 
 223 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 seeing. Perhaps we may get together to one or two of them, 
 as the communication is easy. 
 
 Bring with you such of the German cuts as are engraved, 
 and arrange for as long a stay as you can, as it will do me 
 good to converse a little about old times. The fii'st news we 
 had on arrival here was of the King's death, a kind old 
 friend of mine. I do not mourn for him visibly, for it is too 
 hot for blacks ; and the English here, who are all blacked at 
 top, or bottom, or in the middle, no doubt take me for an 
 extreme Tory or Radical. The King and Queen of Belgium 
 come here in a fortnight ; so that I shall be the neighbour 
 of royalty, as they will live in our street, only three or four 
 doors off. I am rather tired from writing at length to Elliot; 
 and, moreover, feeling you are to come soon, I do not care 
 to pen what I would rather say personally. So, with kind 
 regards to Mrs. W., in which, with love to yourself and the 
 boys, Jane and Faimy join, not forgetting my godson in 
 particular. 
 
 I am, dear W., 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 Tom,* whom I have told of your hand, expects you, and 
 even anticipates your appearance. You would laugh to see 
 him walk with one arm trussed up like a fowl's wing, as he 
 expects to see you. 
 
 • This is an allusion to an accident which happened to ilr. Wright's 
 hand while he was out shooting. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 229 
 
 39, RnE LoNGUE, Ostend, 13^^ July, 1837. 
 
 My dear "VVrtght, 
 
 * * * * 
 
 We find ourselves very comfortably settled now. 
 If you come there is a spare bed for you, and another for 
 the Dilkes ; so that if you should come together there is 
 room for all. I am looking anxiously for your coming, as I 
 think it would do me good, and give me spirits to finish off 
 in style the books for this year. There are four mail packets 
 come every week, and one Company's steamer. We have 
 had famous weather, not one unfair day since we came ; but 
 if you prefer bad weather you can wait for it, though I think 
 it will be late this year. 
 
 I cannot make up my mind to write any particulars to 
 you, as I look forward to the pleasure of telling them. I 
 get the "Athenaeum" regularly here on the Wednesday; 
 and have been introduced to two people here, Colley Grattan 
 and — but the other 1 will show you, and then surprise you 
 with his name. 
 
 I wish I could end here without having worse news ; but 
 our debut here has not been in all respects lucky. Poor 
 Jane has had a terrible sore throat, so much so, that I was 
 obliged to call in a doctor ; who gave her two grains of 
 calomel only, but which seemed to revive all she had taken 
 in her former illness, and in consequence she had her mouth 
 in a dreadful state. A warm bath will carry this off, and 
 we have one within a door or two ; but she has had a 
 relapse with her throat, probably from coming down too 
 Boon. I am assured it is not an affection belonging to the 
 place, which they say is very healthy, and the people look 
 so. Grattan has been here some years, and speaks well of
 
 230 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 it too. Poor Tom has had a most severe pinch with the 
 street door, and has lost the nail of his finger; but let's hope 
 this is all the footing we have to pay here. 
 
 And now, my good fellow, come as soon and stay as long 
 
 as you can ; and tell B not to make me quite such an 
 
 Ernie of Hearin. And mind do not write to me any of your 
 poste restante, but to the address at the head of this. It will 
 save postage if you bring your next yourself. I cannot help 
 thinking that perhaps, as the French say, you are here next 
 Saturday, in which hope I sign and resign myself, dear 
 AVright, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 I am contemplating an ode to Queen Victoria for the 
 " Athenaeum." You may tell Dilke I think Janin's last 
 paper a capital example of political criticism. I own I am 
 curious to see T. Tegg's " Remarks on Copyright ; " so don't 
 forget it. Pray poke up Dilke ; and should he have any 
 qualms about coming, scrunch them in the shell ! You 
 would do me a world of good among you ; and I have never 
 had a palaver with him yet. And it would not hurt him. 
 Besides, he went to Margate some summers back, and it 
 " ain't to compare " with this for selectness and sea. I 
 suppose, and hope, he is tolerably well. Unless you come 
 soon, let me have a bulletin, rather clearer than those about 
 the King. Why can't the Queen make me Consul here ? I 
 don't want to turn anybody out, but can't there be nothing- 
 to-do enough for two 1 The King and Queen of Belgium 
 are coming here. I rather think the Dilkes, who are very 
 fashionable, are hanging back till they hear the Court is 
 here, which makes Jane and me jealous. Mrs. Dilke need 
 not bring a bit of soap with her, as they use it here ; it is
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 231 
 
 quite a treat to Bee the clean faces and hands. I could kiss 
 the children here about the streets — and the maids too. I 
 think the German men kiss each other so because, thanks to 
 dirt, there is no fair sex there. Flemish contains many 
 words quite English to the eye. Over the taverns here, you 
 see " Hier verkoopt Man Dranh." As we entered here, just 
 under the words " man drank," sat a fellow with a tremen- 
 dous black eye, quite as if on purpose to prove the text by 
 illustration. But I am forestalling our gossip, so good-bye. 
 Pray attend to the business part of this letter, and do not 
 neglect the pleasure part either. 
 
 Pray congratulate Moxon for me on having an article on 
 his sonnets in the " Quarterly," where I never had a line 
 though I write odes ! 
 
 39, EuE LoNODE, OsTEND, Saturday, \Oih Sejpt, 1837. 
 Mt dear Wright, 
 
 I received yours this afternoon. Your account of 
 your brother's family, and still more of the funeral, is very 
 gratifying, and contains all the comfort that one could have 
 under such affliction : it must have soothed your feelings 
 very much to witness such an unusual demonstration. A 
 man is not all lost who leaves such a memory behind him. 
 I am heartily glad your reflections have such a scene to rest 
 upon, connected with him, to set-off against some of the 
 bitterness of the deprivation. 
 
 You may be at ease about me, my health has not delayed 
 the Comic ; but I was so forward with the cuts, I thought it 
 worth while to wait to send them all at once instead of by 
 detachments ; and accordingly I shall despatch them to you 
 next week. What a comfort to think that they will not 
 have to be six weeks on the way ! It makes a vast differ- 
 ence. I except the frontispiece. Did I understand you that
 
 232 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Harvey would do one'? His pencil is -worth having — that 
 thera may be something artist-like ; but if any doubt of 
 delay say so at once, as I should in that case prefer knocking 
 one off myself. I do not know of anything more we want 
 per parcel, unless you have a spare copy of the " Tower 
 ^Menagerie." Do not forget two or three copies of " Eugene 
 Aram " unbound, one or two of last Comic. But you had 
 better see the Dilkes, for we have strong hopes of their 
 coming out, and they would perhaps bring what we want. 
 
 Don't think of any beer, we get good here now. The 
 poem in the " Athenaeum " about Ostend confirmed us in 
 our hopes. I suspect it is written by Sir Charles Moi'gan 
 (Lady Morgan's hub.), who has heard them talking of it. I 
 wish they may come, as there is a chance now of their en- 
 joying themselves ; and I should like to talk over German 
 matters with him. 
 
 * * * For my part I say hang party ! There wants a 
 true country party to look singly to the good of England — 
 retrench and economise, reduce taxes, and make it possible 
 to live as cheap at home as abroad. There would be 
 patriotism, instead of a mere struggle of Ins and Outs for 
 place and pelf. Common sense seems the great desideratum 
 fur governors, whether of kingdoms or family. I suspect the 
 principles that ought to guide a private family would bear a 
 pi-etty close application to the great public one ; their evils 
 are much of the same nature — extravagance, luxury, debt, &a 
 Thanks for your recipe, I may try it some day, but I am shy 
 of stimuli. I do not suffer either under lowness of spirits ; 
 now and then I feel jaded rather, and indulge perhaps twice 
 in a week in a single glass of sherry : my appetite is better 
 than it used to be. I always eat breakfast now; so if I can 
 but conquer the lung-touch, or whatever it is, I shall do. I 
 think I have got a fair set of cuts, and have some good
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 233 
 
 stories for the text of the Comic; so that I am going on 
 quite " as well as might be expected." 
 
 Are the other German cuts done ? I have a hint to give 
 Tou about the cutting the Comic, — not to cut away my 
 blacks too much, as they give effect. I am not sure whether 
 some of the German cuts do not want black, but perhaps 
 they print up more. I am so pleased with your ideas of the 
 f ibles, I think I shall do them next after the German book, 
 with nice little illustrations. 
 
 Jane is getting dozy, and so am I, for it is twelve o'clock ; 
 so I must shut up. Tom is very well, and talks of " Mr. 
 Light and Jim Co." Oysters are in here ; that is to say, 
 they send every one of them up to Brussels. I think I'll 
 petition the King about it. My swallow seems disposed to 
 migrate on that account to the capital. 
 
 Hang their shelfishness ! confound their grottoes ! I own 
 I did look forward to the natives, but one cannot have every- 
 thing in this world. As the 'prentices say, " I'm werry con- 
 tent with my wittles in this here place ! " Our kindest 
 remembrances to yourself and all yours. God bless you» 
 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Tiios. Hood. 
 
 39, Rue Longue, \&ih October, 1837. 
 Mt DEAR WRIGnT, 
 
 According to promise to B , I sit down to write 
 
 to you to day. 
 
 * * » * 
 
 On the subject of my health, I feel somewhat easier, as it 
 seems to give me better eventual hope. God knows ! It has 
 been a great comfort to me, and gone somewhat towards a
 
 234 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 cure, to feel myself within distance, and have such posting 
 and sending focilities. The receipt of the Comic cuts in 
 three or four days actually enchanted me. Altogether, in 
 spite of illness, I have done more this year. I feel I only 
 want health to do all. I do not lose time when I am well, 
 and am become, I think, much more of a man of business 
 than many would give me credit for. 
 
 Now for your main subject ; I wish with you, we could 
 talk it over instead of writing. There are so many points I 
 should like to know something about. Such an idea as a 
 periodical would have been impossible at Coblenz to entertain 
 for a moment. Indeed some months back I should at once 
 have rejected the notion from sheer mistrust of my health. 
 But I have now wore hardihood on that score, and shall 
 turn it well over in my mind. I have no doubt in the world 
 that such a thing well done would pay handsomely, but I do 
 not yet see my way clear. For instance, it is hardly pos- 
 sible for the first of January, seeing that the Comic and the 
 German book have to be done. Then there must be two 
 numbers of the new work, for I would not start without a 
 reserve in case of accidents, or the whole craft would be 
 swamped in the launching. Moreover, the idea is yet to 
 seek, as much, indeed all, would depend on the happiness 
 of that. There is no end of uphill in working with a bad 
 soil. Now I am not damping, but one must look at the 
 probabilities and possibilities, and count chances. As for 
 coming often before the public, — as I mean to do that any- 
 how, it goes for nothing. Nor am I afraid of its running 
 the Comic dry, fragmentary writing being so difi'erent, that 
 what is available for one will not do for the other. So I 
 shall seriously keep my eye on it, in the hope of some lucky 
 thought for a title and plan. Such an inspiration would 
 decide me at once perhaps. In such a case we must have a
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 236 
 
 consultation somehow, as writing not only is unsatisfoctory, 
 but takes up so much time. 
 
 Please God I be well the year next ensuing, the Comic will 
 take up but one quarter of my time, and I must have some 
 work cut out for the rest. T fancy the fables for one thing, 
 but that would be light. I do not think I fall off, and have 
 no misgivings about over-writing myself; one cannot do too 
 much if it be well done ; and I never care to turn out any- 
 thing that does not please myself. I hear a demon whisper 
 — I hope no lying one — I can do better yet, or as good as 
 ever, and more of it; so let's look for the best. Nobody 
 ever died the sooner for hoping. I do not know that I can 
 say more on the subject; it must be vague as yet. Of course, 
 January is the most important; but if it cannot be done, I 
 have no dovibt of February, health being granted. But I 
 would a thousand times rather talk over all these things 
 instead of writing of them. I am glad to get rid of the pen 
 and ink if I can, out of school-hours, and there is a sort of 
 spirit and freshness about viva voce that on all joint affairs is 
 much more invigorating than scribbling. 
 
 And now, my dear fellow, I must close, for I am so tired I 
 slian't add anything but Good night. 
 
 Yours ever, 
 
 T. Hood. 
 
 21st November, 1837. 
 Mt dear Weight, 
 
 In a hasty note to B , I made an angry piece 
 
 of work, which yours received to-day does not serve to un- 
 pick. I complained that, for want of reporting progress, I 
 was at a loss to adjust ray matter to the finis, and behold 
 the fruit
 
 236 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Had I known that the " Song from the Polish " and 
 " Hints to the Horticultural " made some twenty-two pages 
 instead of sixteen (as I reckoned by guess), I should hardly 
 have written two unnecessary articles. 
 
 They were, in fact, the drop too much that overbrims the 
 cup. But for them I should have come in fresh; but 
 through those, and, above all, the nervousness of not even 
 knowing if the two articles before had been received, I half 
 killed Jane and half killed myself (equal to one whole 
 murder) by sitting up all Saturday night, whereby I was so 
 dead beat that I could not even write the one paragraph 
 wanted for preface, whereby five days are lost. 
 
 I suppose there was a gale at Dover, for what you had on 
 Saturday ought to have reached on Friday. I guessed the 
 "Hit or Miss" well enough, as I can coimt the lines in a 
 poem, but prose beats me, having to write it in a small 
 hand unusual to me. 
 
 Of course my sending a short quantity would cause a fatal 
 delay, and I was hardly convinced even with the two super- 
 fluities that I had done enough. It is a nervous situation 
 to be in, and I do not think you allow enough for the very 
 shaky state of health that aggravates it. I am getting 
 over it by degrees; but at times it makes me powerless quite. 
 It is physical, and no effort of mind can overcome it — I 
 could not have written the end of preface to save my life. 
 Indeed, Sunday I was alarmed, and expected an attack. 
 
 I am rather vexed the " Concert " will not be in as I like 
 it. I think such sliort things are good for the book. Had. 
 it been in the palmy days of the " Comic," I should have 
 given an extra half sheet; but now I can't afford anything 
 of the kind. However, I am not sorry to have two articles 
 to the fore. Should the re-issue be decided on, the 
 " Concert " will do for the first number, with a prose article
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 237 
 
 I have partly executed. I think it is a very hkely spec, 
 and the best that can be done under circumstances. There 
 is a tarnation powerful large class, who can and would give 
 one shilling a month, and cannot put down twelve shillings 
 at once for a book. I know / can't, and you would 
 hesitate too. 
 
 You will understand '* Potent, Grave, and Reverend 
 Signors " to face the opening of preface, as if addressing 
 them. 
 
 Take care of your cough lest you go to Coughy-pot, as I 
 said before; but I did not say before that nobody is so 
 likely as a wood engraver to cut his stick. 
 
 It is only fair as I have abused you that I should thank 
 you for seeing the " Comic " through the press at all, I 
 forgive all your errors beforehand, as I know mistakes will 
 happen. Pray accept, then, my sincere and earnest thanks 
 for the more than usual trouble I fear I have given you, for 
 I could not guide you much in the cut-placing. God 
 bless you- 
 
 Youjs, dear Wright, 
 
 Ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 89, Rue Lonqite, Ostende, 2nd December, 1837. 
 Mt dear Doctor, 
 
 I have sevei-al times been on the point of writing 
 to you ; but firstly came a resolution to try first the effect 
 of the place on me; secondly, the Dilkes; and, thirdly, the 
 " Comic." Indeed, an unfinished letter is beside me, for 
 (some time back) there seemed to be a change in the aspect 
 of my case, to which I can now speak more decidedly.
 
 238 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I have done the " Comic " with an ease to myself I cannot 
 remember before. 
 
 We are also very comfortable here. Fanny is quite 
 improved in health, getting flesh and colour, and Tom is 
 health itself. Mrs. Hood, too, fattens, and looks well. I 
 have got thi'ough more this year than since I have been 
 abroad. I wrote three letters some months ago in the 
 " Athenseum " on Copyright, which made some stir, and I 
 
 have written for a sporting annual of B 's. Also in 
 
 January I am going to bring out a cheap re-issue of the 
 " Comic " from the beginning, so that my head and hands 
 are full. I know it is rather against my complaint, this 
 sedentary profession ; but in winter one must stay in a good 
 deal, and I take what relaxation I can ; and, finally, •' neces- 
 sitas non habet leges." I am, notwithstanding, in good 
 heart and spirits. But who would think of such a creaking, 
 croaking, blood-spitting wretch being the *' Comic 1 " At 
 this moment there is an artist on the sea on his way t© 
 
 come and take a portrait of me for B , which I believe 
 
 is to be in the Exhibition ; but he must flatter me, or they 
 will take the whole thing for a practical joke. Of course I 
 look rather sentimentally pale and thin than otherwise just 
 at present. I must take a little wine outside to give me a 
 colour. I have a little very pure light French wine, uithout 
 hrandy, which I take occasionally. I got it through Black- 
 wood, but do not drink a bottle a week of it — certainly not 
 more. One great proof of its being genuine is, that it 
 is equally good the second day as when first opened. French 
 wiu;e is cheap here; it only costs me, bottles and all, under 
 fourteen pence per bottle. 
 
 We had an agreeable fillip with a visit from the Dilkes, 
 accompanied by his brother-in-law and sister, who have a 
 relation at Bruges. It put us quite in heart and spirits, for
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 239 
 
 we are almost as badly off here as in Germany for society. 
 Not but that there are plenty of English — but such English 
 — broken English and bad English — scoundrelly English! 
 
 There is also a possibility of seeing an English book now 
 and then. Nay, there is a minor circulating library two 
 doors off, but Jane and I had such reading appetites, we got 
 through the whole stock in a month, and now must be 
 content with a work now and then — say once a month. But 
 we go on very smoothly and as contentedly as we can be 
 abroad. Almost every Fleming speaks English more or less, 
 and our lodgings are really very convenient, and our land- 
 lord and lady very pleasant people. 
 
 He is not an old man; but was a soldier, and marched to 
 Berlin, and he is a carpenter hy trade, but paints, glazes, 
 and is a Jack of all trades. I have in my own little room a 
 chamber organ, and I discovered the other day that he had 
 made it himself, and he quite amuses me with his alterations, 
 contrivances, and embellishments of the premises. He dotes 
 too, on children; and Tom is very fond of him, and of his 
 wife, too, but declares he will not dance any more with 
 Madame, because " she fell down with him in the gutter, 
 and kicked up her heels." 
 
 He gets a very funny boy with a strange graphic faculty, 
 whether by a pencil or by his own attitudes and gestures, of 
 representing what he sees. I have seen boys six years old, 
 untaught, with not so much notion of drawing, and he does 
 it in a dasning off-hand style, that is quite comical. His 
 temper also is excellent, and he is very affectionate, so that 
 he is a great darling Fanny goes to a day-school, and is 
 getting on in French, and improving much. So that I only 
 want health at present to be very comfoi'table, and for the 
 time being I am better where I am than in London. I have 
 as much cut out for me as I can do; and am quiet here, and
 
 240 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 beyond temptation of society and late hours, living well 
 and cheaply to boot. I seem in a fair way of surviving all 
 the old annuals — most of them are gone to pot. My sale is 
 nothing like the first year's, but for the last three or four 
 it has been steady, and not declined a copy, v?hich is some- 
 thing. The re-issue promises well. 
 
 If I were but to put into a novel what passes here, what 
 an outrageous work it would seem ! 
 
 This little Ostend is as full of party and manoeuvring as 
 the great City itself — or more in proportion. I verily 
 believe we have two or three duels per month. There have 
 been not a few about the minister at the Church — both 
 parties having a man to support — and one gentleman 
 actually fought three duels on the question. Some of us 
 are very dashing, too ; but it is a very hollow Ostend-tation. 
 But I like the natives, they are civil and obliging, and not 
 malicious, like the Rhinelanders. The English benefit them 
 very much, and they seem in return to try and suit them. 
 Indeed, the prevalence of speaking English amongst the very 
 lower class does them credit, and reflects disgrace on the 
 "Intellectual Germans" of the Rhine, who do not even 
 speak French, which here is very general also. I believe 
 this to be a very prosperous, happy, and well-governed 
 country. 
 
 And now I take warning to close. Jane is very anxious 
 to explain to Mrs. Elliot that she has not been unwilling, 
 but unable to write. I have written you but a stupid 
 desultory letter, but hope you will get the Comic about the 
 same time, and that it may prove more amusing. 
 
 I am still rather languid, and have had to write besides 
 on business ; but having a spare hour or two, and something 
 decided to say on my health, would not defer longer. I am 
 unfeignedly glad to hear of your professional success, and
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 'i41 
 
 also fiud from Dilke's report that I have to congratulate you 
 
 on your brother's connection with Mr. C . 
 
 Pray give our kindest regards to Mrs. Elliot, and Fanny's 
 love and Tom's, which is always overflowing to "Willie," 
 and God bless you all as you deserve. 
 
 I am, my dear Doctor, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 A Mlfj-huSS 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 1838. 
 
 At Ostend— Dlness — " Hood's 0-\vii" — Jlrs. Hood to Mrs. Dilke — Portrait 
 Painted by Mr. Lewis — Letters to Mr. Wright, Lieut. De Frauck, and 
 Mr. Dilke. 
 
 I INSERT the following letter from my mother to Mrs. Dilke 
 as an example of the illness and harass under which most of 
 my father's works were completed. 
 
 VOL. X. lt>
 
 242 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 89, Rue Lonque, Ostend, Feb. 24, 1838. 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 
 I write a few lines, for I am sure you have all been 
 sadly vexed and uneasy at the last account I sent to Wright, 
 and the non-appearance of anything for " Hood's Own." On 
 the Wednesday morning we sent for Dr. B., in hopes that he 
 might suggest something serviceable. All Tuesday Hood 
 had been in such an exhausted state he was obliged tq 
 go to bed; but I was iip all night, ready to write at his 
 dictation if he felt able ; but it was so utter a prostration of 
 strength, that he could scarcely speak, much less use his 
 head at all. The doctor said it was extreme exhaustion, 
 from the cold weather, want of air and exercise, acted upon 
 by gi-eat anxiety of mind and nervousness. He ordered him 
 port wine, or said he might safely drink a bottle of Bordeaux, 
 but this would not do; and the shorter the time became, the 
 more nervous he was, and incapable of writing. I have never 
 seen Hood so before; and his distress that the last post was 
 come without his being able to send, was dreadful. When it 
 was all over, and since, I have done ell I can to rouse him 
 from vain regrets, and to-day he is better. 
 
 I will not attempt to describe our harass and fatigue from 
 days of anxiety, and nights of wakefulness and sitting up. 
 
 I have nothing to tell you new, and am, with love to all, 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Jane Hood. 
 
 After the post was gone — and the pressure therefore 
 removed— my father recovered, as will be seen in the fol- 
 lowing letter.
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 243 
 
 89, KuK LoNQOK, F<^. 28, 1838. 
 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 The books per Stewardess arrived iu port Monday 
 night, but are not delivered yet, thanks to that folly the 
 Carnival, which plagues other houses besides the Customs. 
 In Coblenz it was kept up by the tradesmen. Here it is the 
 Saturnalia of the lowest class. Neither Germans nor Flemings 
 ought to Carnivalise — though the Germans have one advan- 
 tage. I have heard very good singing in parts from the 
 common people about Coblenz, but never did I hear such 
 howling and croaking as here. They beat our ballad-singers 
 in London all to sticks. 
 
 Now I think of it, was there ever a Flemish singer of any 
 celebrity? I do not recollect one. How Rooke would enjoy 
 " Amalie's " popularity in Ostend ! Shall I send him over a 
 Flemish Rainer Family ? It would be at least a novelty. 
 Murphy seems done up lately; but his very style, full of long 
 mazy sentences, is quackish, and seems purposely mystified. 
 I have thought of two cuts for him. Low Irish, with pots 
 and sacks, looking out for a " shower of Murphy's;'' and 
 "the prophet a little o«i," i.e. caught in a shower without 
 his umbrella. I think he doesn't understand the Four Laws. 
 
 No local news, only another bloodless duel at Bruges. 1 
 have hopes our frost has gone — I noted some wild geese yester- 
 day going back to the " nor'ard," and every one of them is a 
 Murphy. Give my kind regards to everybody — I can't stop 
 to enumerate, my head is so full of " My Own." Take care 
 of yourself, and when you dine, don't leave off hungry — leave 
 off dry, if you like. I am, dear Wright, 
 
 Youi-s very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood.
 
 244 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 In this spring Mr, Lewis came over to paint the picture 
 which forms the frontispiece to "Hood's Own." The hke- 
 ness was an excellent one. 
 
 OsTEND, April 5, 1838. 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 I have just received " Hood's Own," and it looks 
 like a good number. The cuts come capitally, including 
 Scott's, which is a great acquisition. I am satisfied in print 
 with the Elland article and Grimaldi. I had partly written 
 some verses for the latter, but luckily did not risk going on 
 with them, or all might have hitched. It was not my fault 
 but my misfortune, for I had been finishing the Elland article 
 all night in bed, and was copying out the Murphy when the 
 last minute arrived for the mail. I did afterwards hope you 
 would guess the case, and " take the very bold, daring, 
 presumptuous liberty," perhaps, of getting the ghost of the 
 stage as you could. I have read of one, that would not go 
 off, being hustled away by the performers. But bygones 
 must be bygones; it might have been worse. There are 
 better than two sheets of a " Comic Annual." I was shocked 
 to see no more advertisements, and parodying a note of 
 
 B 's, I might write " I am not the man to say Die." 
 
 But, by the Lord Harry, you must get me fresh advertise- 
 ments ; that will give me fresh vigour to work on the letter- 
 press and cuts ! By the way, as you say, the notices get 
 very frequent and favourable ; they ought to be saved, as it 
 might be advisable to print them some day in an advertise- 
 ment, as they did formerly with the Athenaeum. A thing 
 that gets frequent and favourable notices ought to move, 
 
 if properly pushed. Has B done anything abroad 1 
 
 Brussels is particularly full, — Paris, — America. — There are 
 plenty of English to buy cJteap books, and with so many
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 245 
 
 cuts, it cannot be pirated. I do not think the field has been 
 even yet properly beaten, and a one-shilling book is the very 
 thing where a twelve-shilling one would not do. 
 
 For the next Number, I propose " Hieroglyphical Hints," 
 — a paper on the dismissal of the yeomanry with the old 
 " Unfavourable Review," that you had a hand in turning 
 into a libel on Mrs. Somebody and her close carriage. I think 
 of writing something from a black footman on the Emancipa- 
 tion question. 
 
 * *     • 
 
 I get my papers very irregularly. For instance, I have 
 not yet had last Sunday's " Dispatch." This is bad, and 
 might be very unfortunate, as in the charge against me of 
 
 plagiarism. Pray tell B to blow up that " d d boy 
 
 that puts papers in the wrong box," and please then desire 
 said boy to row his master for sending wrong advertise- 
 ments. I mention this for B 's sake, as well as my 
 
 own, because he must be badly seconded in other cases as 
 well as mine. 
 
 I am quite satisfied and pleased with your arrangement 
 of No. 3, and only regret, my good fellow, I have to give 
 you so much extra trouble. Do go out of town and refresh ! 
 Poor Rooke ! How Amalie's nose is put out of joint ! for of 
 course you will now sing nothing about Herts, Essex, Middle- 
 sex, and Kent, but " This is my eldest daughter, Sir ! " 
 Take care of her now you have got her, at last. Some 
 infants are squatted on, like the " spoiled child." * Mind, 
 and whenever Mrs. Wright looks fatigued and sedentary, 
 take care to hand her a chair. Now and then, a child is 
 turned up with a bedstead, but that could not happen, if the 
 maids slept in hammocks. Mind how you nurse her your- 
 
 * One of the cuts in "Whims and Oddities," engraved by Wright. — 
 T. H.
 
 246 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 self. Never toss her tip unless you are quite certain of 
 catching her; a butter-fingered father might become wretched 
 for hfe in a moment. Don't let her go up in your study 
 among the wild joxing men. What do you think of her for 
 our Tom ? Don't give her a precocious taste for lots o' daffy; 
 or a box at the Opera. You ought to know better than 
 di'eam of operatising, yourself such an invalid. I have never 
 d d or t d out since at Ostend, and am going, to- 
 morrow, for the first time ; but only to my doctor's, and if 
 anything happens, he will be at hand. 
 
 How do all the boys like the Gal ? Poor things ! I never 
 knew a dozen brothers, but one sister managed to tyrannise 
 over 'em all. Have you got a dictionary name yet ? If I 
 might propose, I should say christen her " Mary Wollstone- 
 craft," as the supporter of Female Wrights I 
 
 You must not be out of heart about your cough, — of late 
 years the spring has brought an almost certain influenza in 
 England as elsewhere. Easterly damp winds are the cause. 
 I have been teazingly coughing, and Jane is wheezy, but 
 what proves it to be influenzial, is that Tom, Junior, is as 
 hoarse as a crow. How should we weak ones hope then to 
 escape ! For he is a young horse for strength, and, indeed, 
 has adopted from " Nimrod's Sporting," the name of " Pleni- 
 potentiary ! " 
 
 There is a genteel blot, as the clerk said, on my scutcheon. 
 That comes of foreign paper. Jane, at the other side of the 
 table, is grumbling at it too. Thanks for the fishing-tackle, 
 — all right, — and gone to Bromberg. I wish the Prince 
 Radziwills would go to the Coronation and bring Franck 
 with them. But, no ! Prussia, and Ptussia, the two great 
 enemies of England, are to colleague together in a family 
 party instead. There is a great conspiracy there, or Fm 
 mistaken, but it will fall through, — say I Murphy'd it. For
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 247 
 
 Mrs. Wright's benefit, I must tell you now, the finis of our 
 maid, Mary. She insisted on two whole nights' leave at the 
 Carnival, as being customary, and came home each morning 
 between seven and eight, so done up she could hardly stand. 
 At last, one evening there came by a jolly, roaring, set of 
 Camivalites that quite set her agog the moment she heard 
 the singing, if it might be called so ! She tooTc leave in- 
 stanter, came home next morning, jaded to death, and had 
 occasion to tahe some soda ! Of course we paid her off on the 
 spot, and have since learned she used to persecute a waiter we 
 called Cheeks (ask Lewis about him), and go out on the sly, 
 and drink brandy-and-water with him. She was seen at the 
 Carnival with petticoats up to her knees, bare-legged and be- 
 ribboned, in the character of a broom-girl. Won't Mrs. Wright 
 bless her stars there is no Carnival in England ? Greenwich 
 fair is next to it as performed here. And even the respect- 
 able people join in it, the tradespeople and all, and the 
 children of the gentry go about in character, — some of the 
 bankers here did, for example. By the bye, did I ever tell 
 you of an incident the other day 1 There was going to be a 
 grand religious procession, and a fine gilded car, or chariot 
 containing a figure of the Virgin, which was to be fiUed with 
 angels, represented by children with spangled wings, &c., and 
 our landlord, who was engaged in preparation for it, came to 
 borrow Tom for an angel I Just fancy Jane's great horror 
 and indignation, — I could hardly appease her by suggesting 
 that it was a compliment to his good looks. 
 
 And now, I must shut up. I will send as much and as often 
 
 as I can. Give my comps. to B , and tell him to get a 
 
 whole No. of advertisements. Seriously, we must both stir 
 our stumps, and I do my best. What would he say, now the 
 Copyright Bill is coming on again, to reprinting my letters as 
 a pamphlet, as proposed before ?
 
 248 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 What wouldn't T do if I had health and bodily strength ? 
 Pray for that when you pray for me, for without it, what a 
 clog to one's wheel ! 
 
 And now, God bless you and yours, including Miss Wright 
 — only think of a mile of daughters, there is a family of 
 Furlongs coming to live here, whereof eight are daughters — 
 8 furlongs = 1 mile. 
 
 Give my kind remembrances to all friends of ours, and 
 believe me, 
 
 Dear Wright, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 Two more commissions ! What a bother I am; but would 
 you let somebody inquire where to get it, and send me two 
 packets of vaccine matter by the stewardess next Saturday, 
 and a German grammar for Fanny, with plenty of exercises 
 for young beginners; and pray thank E. Smith kindly for 
 the seeds he was sow kind as to send. Is anybody coming 
 out a- Maying ? 
 
 39, KuK LoNQUE, July 3, 1838. 
 My dear Wri'^ht, 
 
 I was disappointed at not receiving the "Hood's 
 Own" per Liverpool, not from eagerness to see the dear 
 original's reflection, but I was anxious to see how the Intro- 
 duction read. I am struggling to get early this month with 
 my matter, so as to give you as little trouble as possible. 
 The weather has been up to to-day very so-so. I have had 
 only one sail, and it did me such manifest good, that I quite 
 long to get to sea again, but either there is no wind, or raiu 
 with it. You will be glad to hear I am getting better 
 slowly. I wish, my dear fellow, you may be able to give as
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 24V 
 
 good an account of yourself. Pray send me a full and par- 
 ticular bulletin. And, in the meantime, please to present 
 my best thanks to Mrs. Wright for the cane, and tell her it 
 
 is quite a support. I seem to walk miles with it. 
 * *     
 
 Did I give you the history of a steamer built at Bruges ? 
 They quite forgot how she was to get down the canal, and 
 they will haye to take down the brickwork of the locks at a 
 great expense — some 1500 francs instead of 2o', all along of 
 her width of paddle-boxes. Well, the other day, 10,000 
 people assembled to see her launched; troops, band, muni- 
 cipals, everybody in their best; and above all, Mr. T , 
 
 the owner, in blue jacket, white trousers, and straw hat. So 
 he knocked away the props and then ran as for his life, for 
 she ought to have followed ; but, instead of that, she stuck 
 to the stocks as if she had the hydrophobia. Then they got 
 200 men to run from side to side, and fired cannons from 
 her stem, and hauled by hausers, but " there she sot," and 
 the people " sot," till nine at night, and then gave it up. She 
 has since been launched somehotv, but in a quiet way quite; 
 she looked at first very like an investment in the stocks, and I 
 should fear her propensity may lead her next to stick on a 
 bank. The only comfort I could give, was, that she pro- 
 mised to be very fast. To heighten the fun, the wine was 
 chucked at her by a young lady who thought she was going; 
 I know not what wine, but it ought to have been still cham- 
 pagne. 
 
 And now, God bless you and yours ; take care of yourself, 
 and mind and send us an account of how you feel, and what 
 your doctor says of you. The vicissitudes of such weather 
 try us feeble ones. I am anxious to know whether you 
 think your new doctor's course has produced any marked 
 €fi"ect. Don't B mean to come, or don't he not 1 If he
 
 250 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 and Mr. S would make the trip together, it might be 
 
 pleasauter, and we have accommodation for two, and espe- 
 cially a tall one for B , for whom an accommodation bed 
 
 ought to be like an accommodation bill — the longer it runs 
 the better. When you see Rooke, pray thank him hand- 
 somely in my name for " Amalie " — though I do not quite 
 find the airs suit my compass. What Jane has said about 
 
 F please to make me a partner in — and tell E. Smith 
 
 that our Sandy soil has Scotched the flowers, so that he 
 wouldn't know them for his seedlings. But Jane is very 
 proud of them, as they are very good for Ostend. Our 
 festival of Kermesse has begun, and will continue for a fort- 
 night, and then we are to have the King and Queen next 
 month, when your royal gaieties are over and gone. What 
 does Dymock think of being cut out of the pageant 1 I 
 suppose he will pretend that he " backed out." I shall try 
 if I cannot have a verse or two about the Coronation. I 
 want to know if any distinction was shown to Art, Science, 
 or Literature, on the occasion. Was the P. R. A. there ? 
 Had the live Poets admissions to the Corner? What be- 
 came of the V. R. at the Prussian ambassador's 1 He seemed 
 only to compliment Frederick William with initials. How 
 wondei-fully well the mob behaved; but then, to be sure, 
 they are not Tories ! I am glad they cheered Soult. 
 And now I must shut up, and believe me, dear Wright, 
 
 Yours ever very sincerely, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 C9, Rue Lonque, a Ostend, July, 3, 1838. 
 I SAT Tim, 
 
 If you are dead, write and say so; and if not, pray 
 
 let me hear from you. Perhaps you were killed at the 
 
 taking of Spandau — or are you married — or what other
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 251 
 
 mortality has happened to yoii 1 or have you had the worst 
 of a duel — or taken a fancy to the Russians and gone to 
 St. Petersburg? Perhaps some very great "Wels" has 
 pulled you in — or have you been to Antonin 1 
 
 The chief purport of this letter is to inqiiire about you, 
 so you must not look for a long one — but we are getting 
 uneasy, or rather too uneasy to bear any longer your silence 
 — fearing that in the unsettled state of Prussian and Belgian 
 relations, the intercourse may have become precarious. 
 
 We are going on as usual. I am getting better, but 
 slowly. My monthly work, and the very bad season, having 
 been against me. I shall be better when I get to sea, but 
 till last week I have been unable to boat it ; we have had 
 fires within the last ten days. Springs are, I suspect, going 
 out of fashion with black stocks. Jane and the ' kin ' were 
 on board with me, and I wish you could have seen the faces 
 and heard the uproar they made. It was an ugly, long, 
 narrow craft enoiigh for a short sea; three lubberly Flemings 
 for a crew and myself at the helm. Jane groaned and 
 gi'imaced, and ejaculated, and scolded me, till she frightened 
 the two children, who piped in chorus. Tom, like a parish 
 clerk, repeating after his mother, with the whine of a charity 
 boy in the litany, " Oh, Lord ! " &c. &c., and then very 
 fiercely, " Take me home — set me ashore directly ! Oh, Til 
 never come out with you again ! " and so forth. So we have 
 parted with mutual consent, so far as sailing is concerned, 
 which is very hard, as I cannot take out any other ladies 
 without Jane, the place being rather apt to talk scandal, — 
 and one of our female friends here is very fond of boating. 
 For my own part, I have been lucky enough to get a capital 
 little boat, built under the care of an old English shipmaster, 
 and his property — all snug, safe, and handy — so that I mean 
 to enjoy myself as a marine.
 
 252 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 In the meantime, Jane has made a voyage to England and 
 back, which I shall let her relate. She had fair weather out 
 and home, and prefers a dead calm to a living storm. I 
 suppose I must take to sea-fishing, as there is some fresh- 
 water fishing, but the canals are too much of thoroughfares 
 to my taste, who enjoy the contemplative man's recreation 
 — only with one companion. I sometimes wish for the 
 Lahn. 
 
 It was odd enough — but on our return from Bruges fair 
 in the barge, an English family came with us on their way 
 from Coblenz, where they settled in the Scbloss Strasse just 
 before we left. He gave the same account of the people as 
 I do, and was a fisherman — but caught nothing but dace. 
 
 England is all alive now with the Coronation. Why did 
 you not egg on one of the Prince Radziwills to visit Her 
 Majesty vid Belgium, with yourself in his stoeet. I read the 
 other day that soms of the 30th were come to Luxemburg. 
 When ovur railroad shall be finished, it will only be two days' 
 post from Cologne to this — and I have just taken my lodg- 
 ings for another year — Verbum sap. 
 
 We still have an undiminished liking to the place, which 
 suits our quiet " domestic habits," though it is notorious as 
 dull, amongst the notoriously gay. 
 
 We know enough to be able to get up a rubber when we 
 
 feel inclined, besides " taking our thi-ee." I get excellent 
 
 Bordeaux here, and bought a cask with my Doctor, only 
 
 thirteen or fourteen pence English per flask, whereof on the 
 
 last 23rd May, I did quaff one whole bottle out of a certain 
 
 Bohemian Goblet* to my own health, not forgetting the 
 
 donor of the said vessel, which has a place of honour in my 
 
 sanctum. 
 
 • This is a large Bohemian glass goblet, the gift of Franck, who brought 
 it from Bohemia. If I remember rightly he purchased it of the gipsies, 
 who engraved the flowers. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS Of THOMAS HOOD. 253 
 
 What a bore it is, Johnny, that you are not in the Belgian 
 service ; most of its garrisons are near, it would be but a 
 holiday trip to come and see you. Were I as I once was, 
 strong enough for travel, I should perhaps beat you up even 
 at Bromberg vid Hamburg. But I shall never be strong 
 again — Jane got the verdict of our friend Dr. Elliot, that 
 the danger of the case was gone, but that as I had never 
 been particularly strong and sturdy, I must not now expect 
 to be more than a young old gentleman. But I will be a 
 boy as long as I can in mind and spirits, only the trouble- 
 some bile is apt to upset my temper now and then. We are 
 all a little rabid at present, for after having fires far into 
 June, the weather has just set in broiling hot, and the 
 children do not know what to make of it. 
 
 The faces of Tom and Fanny are like two full-blown 
 peonies, or two cubs of the brood of the Red Lion. Tom is 
 a very funny fellow. The people of the house try to 
 talk to him, and as they speak very bad English, he seems 
 to think that they cannot understand very good ditto, and 
 accordingly mimics them to the life. You would think he 
 was a foreigner himself when he is talking to them, Fanny 
 is learning German and French, and makes up by her quick- 
 ness for some idleness. 
 
 She is very much improved, and gets stouter, as she was 
 too thin, whilst Tom gets thinner, as he was too fat; as for 
 Jane, all my London friends said she had never looked 
 better, so that I doubt the policy of walking out with her, 
 for it makes me look woi^se than I am. 
 
 You will judge when I send you a proof of my portrait, 
 which is to be in the next number of " Hood's Own," on the 
 1st July, It is said to be very like, 
 
 I have no news to give you; but there are plenty of 
 rumours. Of course you were at the grand review at
 
 254 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Berlin. Tell me all the particulars you can, and of your 
 fishing, in which I take great interest, though now but a 
 sleeping partner. I quote at the end of this a few words about 
 Salmon. I expect a friend out here on a visit, who is very fond 
 of the rod. By the bye, I must not forget to tell you, that 
 the other day, which proves thei-e must be some sort of 
 fishing, my Doctor was called out of his bed in the morning 
 by an Englishman, who mumbled very much, and on going 
 to the door, found him with a hook, and not a little one, 
 through his own lip. He had been tying it on by help of 
 his teeth, and by a slip of the line had caught himself, genus 
 fiat fish. Being a Belgian hook, like the German, with the 
 shoulder at one end and a barb at the other, it would not 
 pull through; but had to be cut out. Lucky he had 
 not gorged it. My leaf is full,* so God bless you says, 
 
 Yours, Tim, 
 
 Ever very truly, 
 
 Johnny. 
 
 Kind regards to Wildegans. 
 
 Tom, Junior, sends his love to you and Carlovicz and 
 Wildegans. He said to his mother this morning, " I love 
 you a great way;" so he can love as far as Bromberg, It 
 has just occurred to me, that there may be a reason for 
 your silence I never thought of before. You are promoted 
 and in the first pomp of your captainship, and too proud to 
 own to us privates. If that is not the reason, I can think 
 of no other with all my powers of imagination. Perhaps it 
 is your D — doiiane that always bothered my own packages. 
 I hate all Customs, and not least the Prussian. I wish all 
 the officers would confiscate each other. Sometimes this 
 
 * The other leaf waa left for my mother to write on. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 255 
 
 hot \i eather, I shoiild like a glass of Rudesheimer, one of 
 the few things I care for that is Rhenish — Bow, wow, wow ! 
 
 The next letter is to Mr. Franck, who had been laid up 
 with illness at Posen, and had had his head shaved. 
 
 OsTEND, August 20, 1837. 
 
 My dear Franck, 
 
 I have been laid up again, but this you will say is 
 no news, it happens so often. A sort of bastard gout, with- 
 out the consolation of being the regular aristocratic malady, 
 as if I were an aristocrat. By the way, I almost rejoice 
 politically in the results of your own illness, you were always 
 an abominable Tory, but now must needs be a moderate wig. 
 But ajB Gray says : 
 
 " To each tteir evils — all are men 
 Condemn'd alike to groan. " 
 
 You (to speak as a fisherman) complain of your hair line, 
 and I of my gut, which I fear has some very weak lengths 
 in it. I hardly go ten days without some disagreeable 
 hidigestion or other, which is the more annoying as here the 
 victuals are really good. Moreover, I am, in a moderate
 
 256 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 way, a diner-out; for instance, the day before yesterday at 
 the Count de Melfort's, whom I had known previously by 
 his book, the only one that ever coincided with my views of 
 the Rhine. 
 
 In fact in spite of keeping quiet, I am a little sought after 
 here, now I am found out. A friend of Byron's wanted to 
 know me the other day, but I was laid up in bed ; and now 
 Long Wellesley (Duke of Wellington's nephew), my old 
 landlord is hei'e, and asking after me. Luckily, there are so 
 many lame men here I am not singular in my hobble, for 
 though I have got rid of the rheumatism these ten days, the 
 doctor gave me a lotion with cantharides therein, that has 
 left me a legacj of blisters. Then again what an abominable 
 swindling season! The winter embezzled the spring, and 
 the summer has absconded with tha autumn. 
 
 A fig for such seasoning, when the summer has no 
 Cayenne, and in July even you wish for your ices, a little 
 mulled. I have only managed to keep up my cii'culation 
 by dint of sheiry, porter, and gin and water ; and nine times 
 out of ten, had it come to a shaking, I should have given 
 you but a cold right hand. That is one of my symptoms. 
 In the meantime the Belgians are bathing daily, but I 
 observe they huddle together, men and women, for the sake 
 of warmth, at some expense to what we consider decency. 
 As for Jane she is very willing to believe that winter is abso- 
 lutely setting in, as an excuse for wearing her sables.* 
 They are very handsome, but no thanks to you on my part, 
 considering a hint that I have had, that it is a dress only 
 fit for a carriage! I don't mean, however, to go so fur as 
 to set up a wheelbarrow. Many thanks, however, for your 
 
 * Mr. Franck had sent my mother a very handsome set of sables. After 
 her return to England, she was so unfortunate as to lose all that were not 
 stolen, within an incredibly short space of time. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 257 
 
 views of our old piscatory haunts, which cannot lead one into 
 any extravagance, for here there is no fishing. It is another 
 Posen in that respect — but mind do not go and marry foi 
 want of better amusement. Talking of aquatics, a prettj 
 discussion you have got me into by your story of the 
 beavers on the Elbe. I have repeated it, and been thought 
 a dupe for my pains — indeed I began to believe you had 
 hoaxed me, but only this very afternoon I have found a 
 Confirmation of the Baptism in a book of Natural History. 
 
 In the Berlin Transactions of the Natural History Society, 
 1829, is an account of a family of beavers, settled for 
 upwards of a century on a little river called the Nuthe, 
 half a league above its confluence with the Elbe, in a 
 sequestered part of the district of Magdeburg. There ! To 
 be candid, I always thought you mistook for beavers the 
 Herren Hutters, or gentlemen who always wear their 
 castors. But why talk of keeping on one's hat to a man, 
 who can hardly keep on his own hair 1 Methinks instead of 
 sables you ought to have bought of the Russian merchant a 
 live bear, to eat up the little boys that will run after you, 
 as they did after Elisha, crying " Go up, thou baldhead ! " 
 Of course the Radziwills, who made you so retrench your 
 moustaches, will be quite content with you now; but I hope 
 you will not slack iu your con-espondence in consequence, 
 although I must expect to have more balderdash out of your 
 own head. As for Wildegans, he will forget that you ever 
 had any hair, and will take you for some very old friend of 
 his father's, or perhaps for his grandfather. 
 
 For my own part as promotion goes by seniority in your 
 service, I do hope you may have an opportunity of taking 
 off your hat to the king, who cannot make anything less 
 than a major of such a veteran. In the meantime you 
 cannot be better off than in the 19th, which has so many 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 2S|r MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Pules to keep yours in countenance; you see how little sym- 
 pathy I profess, but having fancied you killed, wounded, or 
 missing, in some riotous outbreak, I can very well bear the 
 loss of your lochs as you are upon the key vive ! 
 
 Moreover sickness is selfish, and invalids never feel acutely 
 fur each other. 
 
 The only feeling I have on hearing of another patient in 
 the town, is a wish, that, whilst about it, he would take all 
 my physic. When I can make up a parcel worth sending 
 yuu, you shall have a copy of my face, to hang on the 
 gallows for a deserter, if you like. Tim, says he, either I 
 shall get over this liver complaint, and be a portly body, or 
 the liver complaint will get over me, and I shall die like a 
 Strasbourg goose. How lucky I should have a decent 
 interval of health for that march to Berlin ! I often recall 
 it, Tim, trumpet-call and all, and wish you were one of our 
 military. 
 
 I do not know how the Belgian question goes on, but 
 would not adviise you to attack us, for in case of a reverse, 
 your Khinelanders are not the firmest of friends to fall back 
 upon. Your Posen Bishop is a donkey for his pains ; a 
 Needle, if it enters a piece of work, ought to go through 
 with it. For my part I like fair play. I would have every- 
 body married, and blessed, how they please. Christian or 
 Jew. Privately I really believe marriages between Jews and 
 Catholics would make capital half-and-half, one party be- 
 lieving too much, and the other too little. 
 
 1 wear no mitre, but if you should wed a Polish Jewess, 
 you shall be welcome to my benediction. But there has 
 been a precious fuss about nothing. You say the Bromberg 
 ladies, old and young, were very kind during your Uluess 
 and sent you nourishing food. You have omitted to men- 
 tion whether they considerately masticated it beforehand.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 259 
 
 Yes 1 Of course you will have some fishing at Antonin. 
 Pray present my best respects to the princes. Were I as 
 young as I am old in health, I would come and beat up your 
 quarters at Posen, but my travelling is over, in spite of steam 
 and railroads ; so, if we are to meet again in this world, 
 I am the mountain, and you, Mahomet, must come to it. 
 
 My domestic habits are very domestic indeed ; like Charity 
 I begiu at home, and end there ; so Faith and Hope must 
 call upon me, if they wish to meet. And really Faith and 
 Hope are such ramblers, it will be quite in their line, so with 
 all faith in your friendship, and a hope we may some day 
 encounter in war or in peace, 
 
 I remain, my dear Johnny, 
 
 Your true friend, 
 
 Tim. 
 
 Tom, Junior, sends his love and says, " if you will come 
 he will give you a kiss, and teach you to draw." Vanity is 
 born with us, and pride dies with us ; put that into German 
 by way of metaphysics. Give my love, when you see him, 
 to the King of Hanover, and God grant to those he reigns 
 over a good umbrella. I have many messages in a different 
 spirit, which you'will be able to imagine, for my old comrades 
 for instance, Carlovicz. You do not mention " Ganserich," 
 has he forgotten to exist ; say something civil — as becomes 
 a civilian — to the rest of your militaires on my behalf ; 
 you will see the colonel, I guess, or are you the colonel 
 yourself 1 It would be fatal now to your hair to have many 
 go over your head. Have you ever tried currant jelly to it 1 
 Thank Heaven you require no passport, or how as Heilman 
 said, would you get " frizze 1 " Shall we send back that 
 hair lock you gave to Mrs. D. ? No news except local, and 
 you would take no interest in our abundant scandal, as
 
 260 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 you do not know tlie parties. To me it is very amusing, 
 there is so much absurdity along with the immorahties ; 
 it is hke an acted novel, only very extravagant. You 
 know that this is one of the places of refuge for English 
 scamps, of both sexes. But the parson and I do not 
 encourage such doings, we are almost too good for them. 
 
 Saturday, 6 p.m., Oct. 10, 1838. 
 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 For myself you will be glad to hear that I am at 
 last takiug a change I think for the better : partly from 
 better weather, but greatly I think from the occasional use 
 
 of a warm sea-bath, and partly, B says he thinks, I am 
 
 wearing out the disease. Time I did, says you, or it would 
 have worn me out. 
 
 Something perhaps is due to a slight change of system, 
 but I almost flatter myself, there is a change for the better. 
 I have done without my doctor for an unusually long time, 
 partly from being better, and partly from knowing how to 
 manage myself; I have left off Cayenne and Devils, and such 
 
 stimulants recommended by B . I begin to think as 
 
 they are supposed to be bad for liver complaints in India, 
 they ought not to cure them in England, and referred to 
 Elliot, who said " No," very decidedly. 
 
 But I have no great faith in the principles of my doctor 
 here, though some in his skill, but without the first, the last 
 goes for little. He shook my opinion lately when I had 
 rheumatism, by giving me cantharides in lotion, which 
 favoured me with a sore foot for weeks. It looked like 
 making a job. I now eat well and have much less than 
 before of those depressions, though hurried and well worked. 
 The baths I do think very highly of. Should you see Elliot, 
 ask him ; you might run over here for a fortnight, they are
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 261 
 
 almost next door and cost little. Think of this seriously. 
 I Iiave not felt so well from the 1st January, as during 
 the last ten days : accordingly I am getting on, and, at the 
 present writing, have a sheet of cuts, besides those sent, and 
 some tail-pieces drawn. I expect next packet (on Tuesday), 
 to send you a good lot; they promise to be a good set, and 
 I find the pencilling come easier, which is lucky, as they are 
 to your mind too. So I am throwing up my hat, with hope 
 of making a good fight. 
 
 I doubt whether the first article will be on the Coro- 
 nation, which is stalish, but seem to incline to " Hints for 
 a Christmas Pantomime, personal, political (not party), and 
 satirical." 
 
 I hope to send with this "the Reminiscences," but if not 
 they will be certain to come with the cuts on Wednesday; 
 I am so full-swing on the drawings, I hardly like to leave off 
 to write. You say you are short of prose, but there is all 
 " Doppeldick." We heard to-day from Franck : he is well, 
 and back, to his great joy, at Bromberg and his fishing; he 
 has at last caught a salmon of eleven pounds. He tells me 
 a sporting anecdote of a gentleman he knows, that will 
 amuse you, as it did me. He was shooting bustards, of 
 which there are plenty near Berlin. They are shy to excess, 
 but do not mind country people at work, &c.; so seeing a boy 
 driving a harrow, he went along with him, instructing him 
 how to manoeuvre to get nearer. At last, wishing to cross 
 to the other side of the harrow, he was stepping inside of the 
 traces, as the shortest cut, when at that very instant the 
 horses took fright, and he was obliged to run, with the gun 
 in one hand, taking double care between the horses' heels, 
 and the harrow, which occasionally urged him on with short 
 jobs from the spikes. It might have been serious, but just 
 && he was getting tired out, the horses stopped at the hedge;
 
 262 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 the gentleman, besides the spurring, having his breeches 
 almost torn off by the harrow. Franck wants me to draw 
 it, and truly a flogging at Harrow School, would hardly equal 
 it for effect. 
 
 Wellesley went back to Brussels to-day; I declined dining 
 with him, but he sent me venison twice, some Wanstead 
 rabbits, birds, and a hare. We have been up the railway to 
 Bruges in forty-six minutes, Brussels in six hours for nine 
 
 francs ! Tell B to think of this. Count Edouard de 
 
 Melfort wrote a book, " Impressions of England ; " he is a 
 cousin of the Stanhopes, the family are to stay here the 
 winter, and as we like him and her, and they seem to like 
 us, they will be an acquisition for the winter. They some- 
 times drop upon us, as he calls it, and we drop upon them. 
 As to local news, lots of scandal, as usual; I could fill a 
 whole Satirist with our own town-made. I think the idea of 
 " Tlie Heads " a good one, but do not like the specimen 
 either as to the head, or the style of the writing; and now 
 God bless you. I must to work again, and leave Jane to fill 
 up the rest. Kindest regards to Mrs. W. from 
 
 Your ever, dear Wright, 
 
 Very sincerely, 
 
 Thomas Hood, 
 
 N.B. My hand aches with drawing, I am going to bed for 
 a change. 
 
 Pray put in again the advertisement of Harrison's Hotel 
 m "Hood's Own," and keep it standing to the end; kind 
 regards to everybody all round my hat. We had a complete 
 wreck, close to the mouth of the harbour, such "a distribu- 
 tion of effects," no lives lost, but such a litter, as Jane would 
 call it. The cook's skimmer was saved, at all events, for 
 I saw it.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 263 
 
 There was a soldier shot to death at Franck's last review 
 — putting stones in the guns ! The confusion on our rail 
 is great, one may easily go on the wrong line ; two of our 
 party at Bruges were actually in the wrong coaches, but 
 were got out in time ; I shall make some fun of this. We 
 have had the Nagelmacher family from Liege, and Miss 
 Moore, lodging for a fortnight on the floor below, but they 
 are gone again. How goes on the Amaranth, or off rather 1 
 And have you seen the Bayaderes ? Our new opposition 
 steamer is come — " The Bruges " — a very fine boat. But how 
 will the fish like the railroad? Seeing they now have such 
 facilities for going by land, there will be many more fish out 
 of water; who can calculate the results in future, of rail- 
 roads to bird, beast, and fish — besides man 1 We have 
 begun fires in my little room, quite snug. Tom is going 
 into trousers for the winter, and is very proud of it. He 
 complained the other day that " Mary washed all the flavour 
 off his fiice." 
 
 Well, I must shut up ; T have done a good day's work, and 
 leave off not very fagged, but rather cocky, as the tone of 
 this will show. Give me but health and I will fetch up with 
 a wet sail, (but not wetted with water). Who knows but 
 some day Jane will have a fortune of her own, at least a 
 mangle. Has your mother sold her mangle 1 I admire 
 Harvey's "Arabians" extremely. 
 
 Nmember 22, 1838. 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 I have no immediate occasion for writing, but 
 
 hoping that my chance letters may be as agreeable to yon 
 
 as yours are to myself, I sit down partly for your sake and 
 
 partly for mine own, as it is pleasant to exchange the pencil 
 
 for the pen. I have just sent you off nine more principal 
 
 cuts : in my list I have put "Ofi'by Mutual Consent" and
 
 rZ64 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 " All Round my Hat " as principals, and so you can make 
 them, should I not send you others in lieu by the packet 
 that leaves here on Saturday, when I hope to send you all 
 the drawings, tail-pieces and all; exclusive of frontispiece, 
 which I should be really glad if Harvey would do for me, 
 however slightly, I sending an idea for it, as I am very short 
 of time. The effect of "Hood's Own" has been to somewhat 
 hinder the " Comic," by preventing that quiet /orethinking 
 which provided me with subjects, but I have done wonders 
 on the whole. 
 
 The " Comic " is always a lay miracle, and done under very 
 peculiar circumstances; perhaps being used to it is some- 
 thing, though the having done it for so many years, and 
 having fired some 700 or 800 shots, makes the birds more 
 rare, i.e. cuts and subjects. But somehow it always is done, 
 and this time apparently by a special Providence. God knows 
 what I did, for the " Hood's Own " was the utmost I could do. 
 Sti-ange as it may appear, although little as it is, it amounts 
 probably on calculation to half a " Comic," as to MS. But I 
 literally could do no more, however willing; the more's the 
 pity for my own sake, for it was a very promising spec. For 
 the rest I feel precisely as you do about " My Literary Remi- 
 niscences," but the fact is all I have done, I hoped to do in 
 one or two numbers. For instance, the very last time I was 
 thus thrown out. 
 
 As usual, I had begun at the end, and then written the 
 beginning; all that I had to do was the middle, and breaking 
 down in that you had but a third of what I had intended. 
 It was like a fatality. Moreover i never wrote anything with 
 more difficulty, from a shrinking nervousness about egotism. 
 
 But although declining to give a life, I thought it not out 
 of character to give the circumstances that prepared, edu- 
 cated, and made me a literary man — which might date from
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 265 
 
 my ill-health in Scotland, &c. Should I be as well as I am 
 now, I hope to fetch up all arrears in Nos, 1 1 and 1 2 : and 
 it may be advisable to give a supplement, as, after December, 
 I shall be free of the " Comic," and it may help the volume 
 of " Hood's Own," with literary letters from Lamb, &c. &c. &c. 
 This is my present plan, and perhaps the 13th No. would 
 partly help to sell up the whole. But advise on this with 
 
 B , &c. In the meantime you will have a good batch 
 
 for next No. : allowing me as long as you can, perhaps the 
 whole first sheet, and more afterwards. This I know to be 
 
 mine own interest — I would not have B lose on any 
 
 account, much less on mine. With letters, &c., I could fill a 
 good deal when I am once clear of the " Comic " — about 
 which I am in capital spirits. I think I have a good average 
 set of cuts, and some good subjects for text. But above all, 
 as the best of my prospects, and for which I thank God, as 
 some good old writer said, " on the knees of my heart," is 
 the, to me, very unexpected improvement in my health, 
 which I truly felt to be all I want towards my temporal 
 prosperity. The change has been singularly sudden for a 
 chronic disease. I wish I could hear as good news of 
 Mrs. Dilke as this, which I beg of you to convey to them. 
 Pray say that as far as I can judge, a radical change for the 
 better has taken place. I have some thoughts, as a finisher 
 and refresher after the " Comic" (both for body and mind), 
 of dropping in on them for three or four days — in which case 
 you will not have further advice. I want to talk over the 
 German book with him, which I shall most assuredly soon 
 get through, health permitting, in the course of February or 
 March. 
 
 I do most seriously, comically, earnestly, and jocosely tell 
 you that " Richard is himself again," and therefore you need 
 not, Hibernically, have any fears on Tom's account : which
 
 266 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 last word reminds me of jour kindness in going through all 
 mine — for which I thank you as earnestly, as I know you 
 have been engaged on the work. You must occupy yourself 
 much on my behalf, and I can make you no return but to 
 say that I feel it, which I do, very sincerely, or I should not 
 take so much to heart as I do, the good effects of Prussic 
 acid on your complaint, and wish the three drops which 
 would kill any one else, could render you immortal, at least 
 as long as you liked to be alive. But it does seem, or sound 
 an odd remedy, like being revived by the " New Drop." 
 
 I am writing a strange scrawl, but my hand is cramped by 
 drawing. Otherwise, " I am well, considering^' as the man 
 said, when he was asked all of a sudden. Sometimes I feel 
 quite ashamed of these bulletins about my carcase, till I 
 recollect that it is too far off to be of interest merely as 
 a subject. Seriously I believe I am better, and if I enforce 
 it somewhat ostentatiously on my friends, it is because I 
 have achieved a victory unhoped-for by myself ! 
 
 To allude to the battle of Waterloo, I should have been 
 glad to make it a drawn game, but I think I shall escape the 
 Strasbourg pie, after all. 
 
 The above was written some time back, and given up from 
 sleepiness. I have now yours of the 19th. Glad you like 
 the cuts — I think they are a good set. To-day, or to-night 
 rather, have sent off three more large, which if you take in 
 " Off by Mutual Consent," will make up the six sheets. 
 Also three more tail-pieces, in all forty-eight and eleven. 
 A dozen more tail-pieces will do. I wish Harvey would do 
 the frontispiece, I am so very short of time. Methinks 
 the lines, 
 
 " Mirth, that wrinkled care derides, 
 And Laughter holding both his sides," 
 
 would supply a subject. The "E<3miniscences" I must send
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 267 
 
 you on Saturday by the "Menai;'' our post comes and goes 
 so awkwardly. 
 
 Thank God I keep pretty well, — a day or two back rather 
 illish, but took a warm bath and am better, wonderfully, 
 considering my " confinement." After the Custom-house 
 stoppage, no fear for some time of any hitch. It only cost 
 three shillings, as the woman says. 
 
 I hope Mr. C. will not forget the books I wrote for, by 
 next Saturday's boat. Pray send me proofs, rough or any- 
 how, of all the cuts you can, as they help me in writing. 
 Do not forget this. Bradbury's proofs will do. It is getting 
 very wintry, and I and the fires are set in — in my little 
 room. You talk of a grand Christening Batch —but what 
 is to be the name of " my eldest daughter, Sir ? " Tom 
 exclaimed pathetically this moming, "I wish I had none 
 teeth ! " He is cutting some that plague him ! He draws 
 almost as much as I do, and very funny things he makes. 
 He picks up both Flemish and French. "We went to a 
 French play the other night, and I was much amused by an 
 actor very much d. la Power. It set me theatrically agog 
 again. Perhaps— who knows? — I may yet do an opera with 
 Rooke ! In the meantime, I shall some day send you the 
 piece that was accepted by Price, with a character for Listen, 
 for you to offer to Yates. Jane is going to write, so I make 
 over to her the other flap. We were much rejoiced to hear 
 good news of Mrs. Dilke, as we had not had a word. Praj 
 tell Dilke how much better I have been, and take care of 
 yourself, and believe me, with God bless you all, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 What a capital fish a dory is ! We had one for dinner 
 t'other day. Good — hot or cold.
 
 268 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 OsTEND, Dec. 17, 1838. 
 Mt dear Mrs. Dilke, 
 
 As I always came to your parties with a shocking 
 bad cold, I now write to you with one, which I have had for 
 three days running. But it was to be expected, considering 
 the time of the year and the climate, which is so moist that 
 it's drier when it rains than when it don't. Then these 
 Phlegmings (mind and always spell it as I do) — these Phleg- 
 mings are so phlegmatic, if it's a wet night, your coachman 
 won't fetch you home, and if it's a cold one, your doctor 
 won't come; if lie does, ten to one you may forestal his 
 prescription. If it's a sore, a carrot poultice; if an inward 
 disorder, a carrot diet. I only wonder they don't bleed at 
 the carotid artery ; and when one's head is shaved, order a 
 carroty wig. The only reason I can find is that carrots grow 
 here in fields-fulL 
 
 Well, my book is done, and I'm not dead, though I've had 
 a " warning." The book ran much longer than I had con- 
 templated, and I've left out some good bits after all, for fear 
 of compromising Franck and my informants. It has half as 
 
 much writing again as the "Uomic,"and I told B to 
 
 consult Dilke about the price, as it has five sheets more 
 paper and print than the Annual. 
 
 We thought this week's " AthensDum " much duller than 
 the one before it; it hadn't such a fine hock flavour. I read 
 the review six times over, for the sake of the extracts; and 
 then the extracts six times, for the sake of the review. If 
 that isn't fair play between author and critic, I don't know 
 what is. I have been prophesying what will be Dilke's next 
 extracts. 
 
 I heard of two young men obliged to fly from the troubles 
 at Hanover; but it turns out that they have robbed or
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 269 
 
 swindled a Chatham Bank. So we don't improve. A 
 Colonel B. has done W. out of 100^., and an English lady, 
 in passing through, did thp banker here out of 78?. Then 
 an Englishman shot at his wife the other day with an air- 
 gun; and Mrs. F. will not set her foot in our house again, 
 because I gave her a lecture on scandal-mongering; and the 
 doctor has done Captain F, in the sale of some gin; and the 
 Captain talks of calling out the doctor for speaking ill of his 
 ■wife ; and the De M.s are gone ; — a fig for Reid and Marshall, 
 and their revolving hurricanes ! We Ostenders live in a 
 perpetual round of breezes. 
 
 I must now begin to nurse poor Jenny, who has had no 
 time to mend and cobble her own health for soldering up 
 mine. The children, thank God, are very well, and very 
 good, and " so clever ! " The other day, Jane advised Fanny 
 
 to talk to C (about her own age) to subdue her temper. 
 
 * Oh," said Fanny, " she is so giddy, it would be like the 
 Vicar of Wakefield preaching to the prisoners ! " Tom has, 
 taken to his book con amove, and draws, and spells, and tries 
 to write with all his heart, soul, and strength. He has 
 learned of his own accord to make all the Roman capitals, 
 and labels all his drawings, and inscribes all his properties, 
 TOM HOOD. He is very funny in his designs. The other 
 day, he drew an old woman with a book : " That's a witch, 
 and the book is a Life of the Devil ! " Where this came 
 from. Heaven knows. But how it would have shocked Aunt 
 ' Betsy ! The fiict is, he pores and ponders over Retsch's 
 " Faust," and " Hamlet," and the like, as a child of larg-:r 
 growth. But he is as well and jolly a ad good-tempered as 
 ever; and as he is so inclined to be busy with his little head, 
 we don't urge him, but let him take his own course. So 
 much for godma and godpa.
 
 270 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I cannot write more at present, as Mary is iu the room, 
 and she is a great listener. God bless you all ! 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 P.S. — I shall thank Dilke for the two vols, of the " Athc' 
 naeum" when I write to him, which will be after the tail of 
 my review. The discovery at Treves, &c., is stale — I mean 
 the window story — six years old at least. Puff of the K. of 
 P. to gull John Bull of some money. 
 
 P.P.S. — I forgot to mention that I had a little duel of 
 messages with my "scandal-mongering" acquaintance* the 
 other day. " Pray tell Mr. Hood," says she, " that I have 
 no doubt but his complaint is a scurrilous liver " (schirrous). 
 So I sent her my compliments and begged leave to say that 
 was better than a " cantankerous gizzard ! " 
 
 * My father mortally oflfended tLe elderly maiden afterwards, by a mis- 
 chievous peace-offering of those brown, wizzened, stony apples which go 
 by the uncharitable title of "medlars."— T. H. 
 
 <^^-^^> c{cc/<S. uTlxcib a. Qoose !
 
 MEMOEIALS OF TflOMAS HOOD.' 271 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 1839. 
 
 Ai Osiend — Visits England for a short time — Letters to Mr. Wright and 
 Lieut, de Franck — Mrs. Hood visits England — Letter to her — Letters 
 to Mr. Dilke and Dr. Elliot—" Up the Rhine" published. 
 
 In the beginning of 1839, my father paid a short visit to 
 
 England, making Mr, Dilke's house his quarters for the time 
 
 being. The following was written part before and part after 
 
 the visit. 
 
 RcE LoNQUE, OsTEND, Christmas Day, 1838. 
 
 " Tim," says he ! " hier ist ein brief mit my own 
 hand geschrieben at last ! " " Time it was," says you, — and 
 so think I, considering our old comradeship; but I am not 
 going to plead guilty to wilful neglect, or mahce prepense. 
 You know how my time is divided,— first 1 am very ill, then 
 very busy to make up for lost time, — and then in conse- 
 quence very jaded and knocked- up, which ends generally in 
 my being very ill again. Neither of the three moods is very 
 favourable for writing long, cheerful, friendly letters; ergo, 
 you will conclude that I am at this present writing neither 
 ill, busy, nor very jaded, which is precisely the case. 
 
 Your letter came while I was in bed, fuU of rising ambi- 
 tion, so I read it before I got up, — and how nicely the fellow 
 timed it, thought I, to arrive on this very morning of all 
 the days in the year ! so I sit down to try whether I cannot 
 hit you with mine on New Year's-day. You will like to 
 hear all about me, so I shall make myself Number One. In 
 health I am better, and in better hope than of late, for a 
 complete revolution has taken place in my views on the sub- 
 ject. Hang all Rhinelaud, except a bit between Ehrenbreit-
 
 272 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 stein and Pfaffendorf, and all its doctors. Old S , the 
 
 Catholic, I verily believe knew no more about the case than 
 
 the Jew B ! but he is more taken up with the sort of 
 
 little Propaganda there is in Coblenz, for converting Pro- 
 testants, and getting Roman Catholics to leave their property 
 to the Church, and walking in Corpus Christi processions 
 than with medicine or its ministry. For I hear he is a 
 notorious bigot even in Coblenz, and I hate all bigots, 
 Catholic or Lutheran. He told me my complaint was in 
 the lungs; and I described the symptoms to Elliot, who 
 rather concurred iu his opinion ; but of course from what he 
 was told only, so I never touched wine, beer, or spirits, for 
 several months, and in consequence ran it so fine, that on 
 the journey here, when I got to Liege, I could scarcely speak. 
 At Brussels 1 began to find out I had gone too far in my 
 temperance, by the good eff'ects of some bottled porter; and 
 now here I am on a moderate allowance again, and even 
 ordered to drink a little gin-and- water. So won't I toast 
 you to-day, my old fellow, in a brimming bumper ! 
 
 The doctor here is an experienced old English army sur- 
 geon, besides being used to London practice ! and he said 
 from the first he could find no pulmonary symptoms about 
 me. The truth is, my constitution is rallying, as the Prus- 
 sians did after Quatre Bras, and is showing fight, the sea air 
 and diet here being in my favour. You know what the 
 Rhineland diet is, even at the best, while here we have meat 
 quite as good as English, good white wheaten bread, if any- 
 thing better than English, and the very finest vegetables I 
 ever saw. The consequence is I eat heartily good break- 
 fasts, with fish, &c., and ample dinners : in fact, we have left 
 off suppers simply from not caring about them in general. 
 Sometimes we have a few oysters, and we eat shrimps, Tim, 
 all the spring and summer through !
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 273 
 
 All this looks well, but by way of making surer, and for 
 the sake of Elliot's advice, in which I have justly such con- 
 fidence, I am on the point, Tim, of a visit to England, as 
 Elliot's practice will not let him come to me. It must blow 
 very great guns on Wednesday morning, or I leave this in 
 the Dover mail on a flying visit to the glorious old island ! 
 It is a rough season, and Jane is a wretched sailor; and 
 besides, cock and hen cannot both leave the nest and chicks 
 at the same time, so I go solus. But she will go to see her 
 mother, I expect, in the spring or the summer : for we have 
 made up our minds to stay here another year, and perliaps 
 two. It will be some time before I shall be strong enough 
 to live a London life ; and being rather popular in that city, 
 I cannot keep out of society and late hours. At all events 
 I am close at hand if wanted for a new ministry. Jane savs 
 she should not like me to be a place man, for fear of red 
 
 spots. • 
 
 • • • * 
 
 Since the above I have been to England. I spent there 
 about three weeks, and am just returned, full of good news 
 and spirits. Elliot came to me, and after a very careful 
 examination, and sounding every inch of mo by the ear, and 
 by the stethoscope, declares my lungs perfectly sound, and 
 the complaint is in the liver. He altogether coincides with 
 my doctor here, both as to the case and its treatment, and 
 my own feelings quite confirmed their view ; so that at last 
 I seem in the right road. But what long and precious time 
 I have lost — I only wonder I have survived it ! You must 
 be a great lump of sugar, indeed, to sweeten such Rhenish 
 reflections. The ignorant brutes ! 
 
 The main reason why Elliot wanted to see me was because 
 this place would be bad for the lungs, but it quite suits the 
 real case as 1 must have much air, and cannot walk or ride 
 
 VOL. X. 18
 
 [2U MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 much, or exert myself bodily. So sea air is good, and sail- 
 ing, my old amusement, Tim, at which I was an adept, and 
 shall soon pick it up again. I mean therefore to sail, and 
 fish for my own dinner. So I have made up my mind to 
 stay here for one or two years to come. We like the place, 
 though it is called dull by gay people and those in health. 
 But that just suits me, who am not strong enough for society; 
 it is so near that those we care about do not mind coming, 
 and as we have four posts a week, business goes on briskly. 
 It is as good as English watering-places in general, so I 
 should gain nothing by going over. To tell the truth, I was 
 not at all sorry to come back, for I have never been in bed 
 before one or two in the morning the last three weeks. Of 
 coiurse we are very happy, for my death-warrant was signed 
 if such blood spitting had been from the lungs : it is not 
 dangerous in this case. 
 
 Between friends and business I had a regular fag in 
 London, for there were such arrears: for instance, among 
 other things, all my accounts with my publishers for three 
 years to go through. They turned out satisfactory, and 
 besides established the fact, which is hardly conceivable by 
 those who are experienced on the subject, that the "Comic" 
 keeps up a steady sale, being, if anything, better than last 
 year. All other annuals have died or are dying. Of course 
 this is quite a literary triumph, and moreover I had to pre- 
 pare a re-issue of all the old ones, which will come out 
 monthly in future ; you shall have them when complete at 
 the year's end. Moreover, my German book is to come out 
 in the course of the year. I send you proofs of some of the 
 woodcuts which are finished — you will recognise some of the 
 portraits. Then I propose to begin a Child's Library,* so I 
 have cut out plenty of work. 
 
 * Of all the projected works, which were never to be finished, I regret
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 276 
 
 We shall have plenty of visitors in the summer. How I 
 wish it was not so far from Bromberg ! But we shall have 
 railroads, and all the world will go this way to the Ehine 
 instead of Rotterdam. It is a nice little kingdom, and I 
 like the people ; they take very much to the English, and 
 adopt our customs and comforts, and almost universally 
 speak our language in this part. So you see, had the 
 Luxembourg afiair come to a head, I must have wished you 
 a good licking. What fun, if your 19th had been ordered 
 down, and you had been taken, Johnny, with me for your 
 jailor, and answerable for your parole ! As to the Cologne 
 affair, I think your king is perfectly right. Fair play is a 
 jewel, and an agreement is an agreement; but he is placed 
 in a critical position, very — at all events a very troublesome 
 one. It quite agrees with my prophecies. You know I 
 don't meddle in politics, but I will give you my view of 
 affairs. There will be a row in Hanover : it will not suit 
 your king to have popular commotions so near home, so he 
 will interfere to put it down, and finally hold Hanover for 
 himself Then, as to Luxembourg, the French long to pay 
 off the old grudge on you Prussians. If you should get a 
 
 this most of all. My father had a knack of inventing children's stories, 
 and was always a great favoiirite with little folk. There are many — not 
 little folk now — who remember his gentleness and kindness in amusing 
 them. He used to tell stories, illustrating them with sketches made as he 
 told them — of these, alas, only the illustrations remain. With myself and 
 my sister he was very fond of playing — suggested games to us and pointed out 
 the " properties " that would suit them. He was very fond of Dr. Elliot's 
 children, to whom he frequently wrote, and sent paper animals, etc. , cut 
 out very cleverly. During his last illness a very beautiful miniature of 
 four of these little favourites lay on his bed, and he used to take much 
 pleasure in contemplating it. Some lettei-s, in another part of this work, 
 written to them, will prove how well he would have written such a Child's 
 Library as he here speaks of. Critics, in reviewing "Precocious Piggy," 
 have remarked how capitally its metre and rhyme are adapted for nursery 
 memories. — T. H.
 
 276 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 beating at the beginning, I should fear Catliolic {French in 
 heart) Rhineland will rise; but if you Prussians like, you 
 will keep Luxembourg to repay you for defending it for the 
 Dutch. So the best thing for all parties is to keep the 
 peace : and whatever j-ou hot-headed young soldiers may 
 wish, I think your king's prudence will keep us from war; 
 and so long life to him ! As for England, we Liberals must 
 beat sooner or later; the money and commerce interests will 
 beat the landed, who have too long had it their own way ; 
 and then no more corn-laws ! * Then, if you Prussians be 
 wise, you will encourage free-trade, and take o\ir manufac- 
 tures for your timber and corn, whereby we shall both 
 profit. 
 
 But you abroad have a plan, on the supposition that the 
 Tories will come again into power — so they may, but will 
 never keep it, nor the Whigs either ; there is a third party, 
 not Radicals, but a national one, will and must rule at last, 
 for the general and not private interests. I do not meddle, 
 but look on, and see it quietly getting onwards towards a 
 consummation so devoutly to be wislied for, 
 
 Leopold, whatever you may hear, is popular, and justly 
 60, in this country, which is a more wealthy one than is 
 generally supposed. 
 
 Bruges is a delightful little city, for any one with an 
 artist's eye. It is only fourteen miles off, and you can get 
 there by the barge for a franc and a half. It is quite a gem 
 in its way. 
 
 By the bye, I am going to try to paint a bit in oil : t the 
 
 * It will be observed (as in the next paragraph) that at times my 
 father's prophecies were marvellously correct. — T. H. 
 
 + This idea was not, I believe, put in operation till many years later in 
 England. We possess a most curious and effective oil-painting in brown 
 and white, — oil-sepia painting, so to speak — that suggested "The Lee 
 Shore." The fisherman's cottage in the back-grouad^ ^ivh its lighted
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 277 
 
 artist, who took my portrait, has set me up for materiel. 
 He has taken an excellent likeness of me, which is going to 
 be engraved for the re-issue, so that I shall be able to send 
 you a copy of my copy. Jane is quite satisfied with it, 
 which is saying all in its favour. I am going to try to 
 paint Tom's likeness, as we have Fanny's already. As I 
 know nothing of the rudiments I expect to make some 
 awful daubs at first, — may I say like Miss A 's 1 
 
 Jane told you of some articles I have written for a sporting- 
 book, but we are not able to get the letter-press. The 
 plates you will receive next parcel as a present from Jane. 
 They are very good, and I know they will hit your taste. 
 The plates I wrote to were the donkey-race, and of course 
 the fishing. When I was in London I learned that Bond, 
 our tackle-maker, has just wound up his line of life, leaving 
 a good sum behind him. I inquired if there is extra strong 
 tackle ; so let me know what you want directly, and all shall 
 come to you in one parcel, " Comic," sporting-plates, and all. 
 You are at a distance that makes me cautious of carriage, 
 or I would send the latter articles now. 
 
 I sent a " Comic " to the Prince, vid Hamburg, in a parcel 
 of Count Raczinski's, or some such name, — the same who is 
 publishing a gallery of German art. 
 
 You talking of my having " a box out in the spring ! " 
 
 •window, under a struggling moon, and a huge wave filling up the fore- 
 ground, foam-crested, and in the centre a great gull flapping its white 
 wings. This I held to be the ghost of the drowned seaman, at my father's 
 prompting, who signed it — "The Seaman's Dream." We have too the 
 unfinished sketch in oils of a group illustrative of a poem, to be called 
 "Death and the Little Girl." The picture represents the conventional 
 Death, with a child sitting on his knee in a churchyard. The sketch of 
 the poem, as I recollect it, was, that the child, crossing the churchyard, 
 fell in with a stranger, who conversed so pleasantly with her that she was 
 induced to bring him (Death) home, where her sick father was lying. The 
 outlines of the painting and poem are all I can give. How the master- 
 hand would have filled them in, is not to be solved here. — T. H.
 
 279 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Why, man alive ! the stewardess of our London packet 
 fetches and carries hke a spaniel every week between me and 
 my publisher. Your lost gorge-hook tickled me as much as 
 it poked its fun into you. You must have rare sport, and 
 of course do not regret the Rhine, Moselle, and Lahn. Do 
 you ever drop in now ? I should like to Bralce roj tackle 
 with some of your large fish ; but I am a prematurely old 
 man, Tim, and past travelling, except on a short stage. I 
 had fears I should perhaps disgrace my seamanship by being 
 sea-sick, my stomach having become so deranged, but I held 
 out ; to be sure I had fine passages, although one fellow, a 
 fox-hunter, was very ill. England seemed much the same 
 as when I left it, but I was astonished by some of the hotel 
 charges on the road, being positively less than on the Rhine. 
 The Dilkes dined with me ; he is as well as ever, and they 
 all desired their kind remembrances to " Mr. Franks." 
 
 Old H is still dying. He sometimes gets my friend 
 
 W to write at his dictation to Richard D , when he 
 
 is on a journey, in this style: — "Dear Richard — By the 
 time you receive this, your poor brother will be no more. 
 
 I died about noon on ," and then W breaks in, 
 
 " Why, my dear sir, but you are not going so soon ? " 
 " Ah, so you think, but a pretty set of fools you will look 
 
 when you see the shutters up. Send for Dr. S 
 
 directly ! " And so forth ; and in an hour or two afterwards, 
 he is in his chaise at a coursing meeting ! * It is quite a 
 farce, and W imitates him capitally. Now I do verily 
 
 * This gentleman is evidently the original of a character in "Up the 
 Rhine," wherein he figures somewhat in the style of "Mr. Bramble" in 
 "Humphrey Clinker." I believe one secret of the success of my father's 
 humorous writing was, that he read " Humphrey Clinker, " "Tristram 
 Shandy," and " Tom Jones," and caught their style, without catching that 
 something far more infectious, which occasionally breaks out in their ad- 
 mirers. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 279 
 
 believe that I am only alive, on the contrary, through never 
 giving up. With such a wife to teaze, and such children to 
 teaze me, I do not get so weary of life as some other people 
 might — Lieutenants at Bromberg, for instance, in time of 
 peace. Moreover, I am of some slender use. In the spring 
 I wrote and published three letters on the state of the Law 
 of Copyright, which made a stir in the literary world of 
 London, and an M.P. borrowed my ideas and made a 
 flourish with them in the House. Moreover, a fellow 
 attacked me and some others for our infidelity, &c., where- 
 upon I took up the cudgels in a long poem, which delighted 
 an old gentleman so much that he called it " Hood's 
 Sermon ! " * You will hear of me next in orders, as the 
 Rev. Dr. Johnny. 
 
 As for the Comic, I did it this year with such ease, and at 
 such a gallop, that I sent MSS. faster than they could 
 acknowledge the receipt thereof. I never did it so easily 
 before. The fact is, provided my health should clear up, 
 and I get strong, I am but beginning my career. For the 
 fun of the thing I must tell you that there has been a short 
 memoir of me published. You will judge how well the 
 author knows me when he says, " we believe his mind to be 
 more serious than comic, we have never known him laugh 
 heartily either in company or in rhyme." But my methodist 
 face took him in, for he says, " the countenance of Mr. Hood 
 is more solemn than meiTy." The rest is a great deal 
 handsomer than I deserve, and a proof how unfounded the 
 notion is of envy and spite among literary men.t 
 
 • The "Ode to Rae Wilson." -T. H. 
 
 + My father seems to have been "almost persuaded," by the popular 
 demand on him for fun rather than serious writing, that he was not 
 possessed of a serious, as well as a comic Vein. / fancy the latter was 
 more of an Art-ery than the former— witness " The Bridge of Sighs," and 
 " The Lay of the Labourer." My father's testimony to the real good-feeling
 
 280 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 And now I think I liave told you everj'thing about myself. 
 Jenny is as thin as she has been for a long time ; my last 
 illness frightened her ; indeed we have both had a fear we 
 kept to ourselves, but of course she will now laugh and get 
 fat. There is a treat too in store for her, for when the 
 weather is fine enough, she is going over to see her family, 
 three years' absence is a trial to such a heart as hers. 
 Luckily, she has no longer the dinner anxieties, and tlie 
 wish and prayer for a new " animal " that so worried her in 
 Coblenz ! I get nothing now that i cannot eat, and as to 
 drink, I am quite a Temperance Society, though I am now 
 allowed a little wine. To be sure she still sticks to her old 
 fault of going to sleep while I am dictating, till I vow to 
 change my womannensis for amanuensis. And moreover 
 she took the opportunity during my absence of buying a 
 plaice tvith red spots — could not eat it after all — verdict, 
 " Sarve her right," when we can get plenty of turbot. Do 
 you know one of our first freaks on coming here 1 There is 
 a little library two doors off, and we sat down and read all 
 its stock of books slap through. The bill came in. " To 
 reading 155 volumes — francs ! " 
 
 Don't you wish you had been one of the francs, as you 
 complain so of want of reading? We get newspapers, but 
 have no society, save what we import, such as the Dilkes'. 
 There are lots of English here, but many of them outlaws ; 
 this is like Calais, Boulogne, &c., being a sort of city of 
 refuge for gentlemen, who won't or can't pay their debts. 
 
 We have plenty of military, and are consequently treated 
 with abundance of duels. 
 
 Our doctor knows and tells us all the news and scandal 
 of the place. Fanny has been at a day school, but we have 
 
 between men of letters came from his heart, I know. I do not think he had 
 an enemy, although the line of some writers was repugnant to him. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 281 
 
 taken her home again, as she was being taught French in 
 French, and consequently learnt nothing but an unknown 
 tongue. I -wish you could see Tom ; to-morrow is his 
 birthday (Jan. 19th), and he will "take his three."* He is 
 very good-hearted and affectionate also, and quite a young 
 "Comic" for fun and droll mischief. He has a famous 
 notion of drawing for such a shrimp, and the other day came 
 with his thumb and finger opened like a pair of compasses 
 to measure his ma's nose to take her portrait. He is as 
 strong too as a little horse, and always well. He makes us 
 roar sometimes with his imitations ; but one the other 
 night was beautiful. He saw Fanny at her prayers, quietly 
 slipped away, knelt down by his bed, clasped his little hands, 
 and said gravely, " my love to pa, and my love to ma, and all 
 my friends in England." 
 
 I wish it might please one of the Princes to want a com- 
 panion in a trip to England vid Ostend, that you might see 
 us all. I think we are set in here for at least another year. 
 
 It must be something very tempting to make me go to 
 London as yet ; it would kill me in a month. Indeed I am 
 better already for being back. Even the pleasure is bad for 
 me, as all excitement tends to urge the circulation, and 
 cause palpitation. What do you think, Tim ! Dr. Elliot 
 says that my heart is rather lower hung than usual ; but 
 never mind, you shall always find it in the right place. 
 
 Tim, says he, tell me in your next all about my brothers 
 in arms, — I guess I puzzle some people here with my Prussian 
 officer's cloak. Suppose they seize me for a Luxembourg 
 spy ! But Apropos of my old comrades, who does not 
 remember Wildegans, t himself excepted ? I saw some very 
 
 * An allusion to the old three-handed cribbage at Coblenz, for which 
 truth suffered — I was /our. — T. H. 
 
 + Poor Wildegans, as some of our readers must have concluded already,
 
 282 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 long lines of his family flying southwards over the sea some 
 two months back, and prophesied (and it is come true) 
 some severe weather. Does he still feel kindly towards us, 
 or have they cut off his breast, heart and all, to smoke, as 
 they do thereabouts ? Does he sometimes drink our health 
 in, the waters of oblivion ? I am wicked enough to enjoy 
 his being put over your head after all your tricks upon him ; 
 BO pray congratulate him on his promotion. We remem- 
 bered him at Christmas, over our pudding ; Jane wished you 
 both a slice, and I wished you a skewer. I suspect you do 
 not often see *' Carlo," but give our kind remembrances 
 when you meet, also " Von Heugel," and " Von Bontonkon- 
 kowski," as Jane says when she attempts his name. That 
 march is often a march of mind in my memory, and I am 
 again at the Burgomaster's, or at Wittenberg, or Schlunken- 
 dorf, not forgetting the Chateau, and the jack fishing. I do 
 hope my kind captain is as well as when he overlooked our 
 sport from the window. 
 
 I have taken him of the nose, at his word, and drawn him, 
 I think the sketches will prove how vividly I have remem- 
 bered that frolic. I have made some of my friends laugh 
 over it in description. I do not like to ask who may be 
 gone, like the poor Major ! You must not forget my respects 
 to the Colonel 
 
 was troubled with a short memory, an absence of mind — and an abundance 
 of "chaff" in consequence. On one occasion, at Coblenz, Franck could 
 not find his sword to go to parade. What was to be done ! The bugle 
 was sounding ! — when he chanced to look out of his window, and saw the 
 solemn Wildegans marching off with two swords, one on each side ? On 
 another occasion, soon after the break-up of the frost (during which the 
 bridge of boats is removed), he was found, pacing up and down, before the 
 restored bridge, waiting for the ferryboat to take him over to Ehrenbreit- 
 stein. I need hardly say, his name Anglicised is Wildgoose, whence the 
 German nickname, Ganserich (goosey), given him by his brother officers. — 
 T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 283 
 
 I fear to ask about the translation of " Eugene Aram," it 
 was in the most difficult style possible to translate into 
 German ; plain, almost quaker-like, whereas the German 
 poetical style is flowery almost to excess. 
 
 We are suffering from quite Bromberg winter here ; it is 
 like our first winter at Coblenz. On resuming my letter 
 this morning, I found my ink friz in the stand. But we 
 have good coal fires and grates, though I almost scorch 
 myself in getting warm. I told you of two children being 
 frozen here, and this morning I heard that three more, all 
 in the same bed, have been frozen to death at Bruges. 
 I suppose, poor things, they had only an " ofen," not a 
 grate. 
 
 I do not approve of your Private Plays. Officers ought 
 not to be privates : but perhaps you play in such a style, 
 that the privater the better. Of course mein lieb-freund 
 Wildegans bothers the prompter. I would give a trifle 
 to be within a hiss of your performance, to see how fiercely 
 you would curl those moustaches of yours, which the Prince 
 60 properly made you dock. Jane and I agree, that in a 
 sentimental, heroical, tearing, German part, you would be 
 capital, remembering what a fine passion you were in once 
 with Miss A. and at me and Wildegans. 
 
 Jane and I try to fancy a performance something as fol- 
 lows : — A house, pretty well lighted up, but with something 
 of the look of a riding-school. In the centre box a stiff old 
 governor, like a soldier preserved in ice. About seventeen 
 ladies, in plenty of fur, and with rather blue noses, attended 
 by fifty-one officers, twenty-five of them all in love with the 
 same face. No gallery, but a pit full of fellows with a bit of 
 yellow on their collars, and a fugleman, that they may 
 applaud in the right places. Scene — the Brake ; a gentle- 
 man fishing. Then enter a lady — to commit suicide by
 
 284 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 drowning. The angler humanely dissuades her, because 
 she would frighten the fish, and they fall into argument on 
 the romantic idea of suicide. The angler becomes enamoured, 
 and requests the lady to hold his rod, while he kneels down 
 and lays his hand on his heart. He protests he was never 
 in love but seven times before, but had often been fallen in 
 love with. The lady listens, and seems not averse to the 
 match ; but in striking awkwardly at a salmon, she snaps 
 the top joint, and that breaks oft' eveiything. 
 
 Scene the second. The angler in his room, smoking. A 
 friend comes in, takes down a pipe from the wall, and smokes 
 in company. 
 
 Scene the third. A pathetic interview between a lady 
 and a lover with two swords on : she asks him if " he can 
 ever forget her 1 " and he answers " yes." 
 
 Scene the fourth. A duel between the angler and his 
 best friend, because the lady had broken his rod. They are 
 parted by the lady's mother, who asks the angler to dinner, 
 and promises him more brawn than she can eat. 
 
 Scene the fifth. A ball, with only one gentleman who 
 can dance. He waltzes with them all in turn, and then 
 drops down a corpse. 
 
 Scene the sixth. The ghost of the dancing gentleman 
 appears : he forgets that he is dead, and is fetched by three 
 little black boys with horns and long tails. 
 
 Scene the seventh. The angler at dinner with the old 
 lady and the brawn. The old lady seems to admire him, 
 and says " he has good teeth ! " 
 
 Scene the eighth. A gentleman comes on to sing a song, 
 but can't, because he has parted with his " hello." * 
 
 • This was Carlovicz, who gave me a little spaniel called Bello, men- 
 tioned in earlier letters. The two swords point to the forgetful Wildegans. 
 Scene the tenth, refers to the ill-luck of Frauck, whose juniors were
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 286 
 
 Scene the ninth. The Brake. The lady and the angler 
 meet by appointment. He offers her his heart and a fine 
 salmon, and she accepts the salmon. 
 
 Scene the tenth. A lieutenant in a rage because he is 
 not a captain. He throws a set of somersets in trying to 
 promote himself over his own head. 
 
 Scene the eleventh. The nine o'clock trumpet, and the 
 play is snapped off like the top joint. The angler veiy 
 crusty, because there was an embrace in scene twelve, and the 
 young lady to be in love with him. 
 
 Talking of love, just imagine the following httle dialogue 
 after reading your last letter : 
 
 " I wonder," said Jane, " if he has ever lost his heart 
 agam ? 
 
 " I don't know," says I ; " but he complains he has lost 
 some lengths of his line." 
 
 The salmon that won't take a bait must be a puzzler. 
 My doctor is an Irishman, and if I see him before I close 
 this, I will ask him if he knows anything on the subject. 
 You know they have salmon in the Liffey, and many other 
 rivers. 
 
 You see I was right, after all, about the beavei-s in 
 Germany — they are otters ! But what a goose you are to 
 shoot them ! Otter hunting is capital sport, I believe, with 
 dogs and spears. There is an account of it in one of Scott's 
 novels — I think in " Hob Roy." So there is a new variety 
 of sport open to you. I will see if I can get any informa- 
 
 Uways being promoted over Lis head, probably owing to his not having, aa 
 in Englishman, any interest at Head-Quarters. Scene the seventh, refers 
 to an old story invented about the time of the "beef jam." It was some- 
 thing about an old lady, with imperfect organs of mastication, some tough 
 brawn, and a young lieutenant with irreproachable ivory. With the 
 addition that " what you chews ! " was the point of the story, I leave my 
 readers to fill up the details as they choose. — T. H.
 
 236 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 tion about that, too. In the meantime, whenever you 
 write, do not fail to give me any anecdotes as to fishes, 
 fishing, or sporting in general, as well as any new jokes of 
 your locality. 
 
 Whilst I was in London, the Royal Exchange was burnt 
 down to the ground. A great sensation was caused amongst 
 the spectators by the chimes in the tower of the Exchange 
 striking up in the midst of the flames with the very appro- 
 priate air of " There's nae luck about the House." To make 
 the coincidence more curious, there are half a dozen other 
 tunes they play by turns through the week. 
 
 I hope the Bank will take no advantage of it when people 
 go there for the money, for the cashiers might now say, 
 " We have got no 'Change." Another practical joke was that 
 Wilson, the Radical bookseller, was the only Conservative, 
 his shop being the only one that was at all left standing. 
 
 Sad news from Canada of revolt and fighting. I earnestly 
 hope that a timely redress of grievances, and they seem to 
 have some, will prevent a struggle that would end, like the 
 American war, in their loss to England. The Spaniards 
 seem to have acted like all other foreign states towards 
 England, when money was concerned, — the legion broken 
 up for want of pay, which the Spanish government coolly 
 cheats them of. That massacre of English prisoners by the 
 Carlists was a brutal affair. When we came here we 
 travelled with a very nice, gentlemanly, elderly Irishman, 
 whom we liked very much, and he took very much to xis. 
 I found out that he was a Catholic priest, very high in the 
 Irish church. He had been to Rome, and spoke with dis- 
 gust of the little that religion had to do with the civil wars 
 in Spain — that it was purely political, and, in fact, Protestant 
 princes patronised the Carlists. Ainsi va le monde ! And I 
 am very glad that I have had nothing to do with politics,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 287 
 
 though they try hard to identify me with some party or 
 other. So, as I am no " sidesman," but only a " meiry- 
 thought," the leading reviews. Whig and Tory, have care- 
 fully abstained from noticing me or my works. This is 
 funny enough in professedly literary reviews, and shows they 
 are practically political ones. And the result is, I am going, 
 T understand, to be reviewed by the Radical review, and, I 
 hear, favourably. 
 
 Some weeks ago some fellow or other on the Tory side 
 wrote a poem against the ministry, and forged my name to 
 it, and I had a skirmish on the subject. The fact is there 
 is a set, who try to write down and libel all, who are not 
 Tories, neutrals like myself included ; it is too bad, but they 
 will sink of themselves at last from sheer want of character 
 and principle. I am not afraid of them, and do not think 
 they will care to attack me, as I am apt to get the laugh on 
 my side. I was the more annoyed at the forgery, because it 
 was addressed to the Queen. Are we not in luck, Tim, to 
 have such a nice young girl to be loyal to 1 She is very 
 popular, and does good by frequenting the theatres, &a 
 Her mother is very much respected, and has done her duty 
 both to her daughter and to the nation, in a manner that 
 deserves a statue at the hands of the English ladies. But I 
 must pull up or I shall have no room for the messages. 
 Tom sends his love to " Fank, Vildidans, Tarlevitch, and 
 Towski," Fanny joins in chorus, and Jane sends her kindest 
 regards, and says she has no chance of learning French here, 
 there is so much English. There is plenty of Flemish too, 
 but I can't learn it; and so must tell you in the mother 
 tongue, that I am, my dear Franck, your friend ever, and 
 in all sincerity, to the end of the line, and without a weak 
 length in it. 
 
 Thomas, Tim, Johnny Hood. 
 
 ^o"-
 
 288 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 P.S. Should you see " Hood's Own" advertised in any of 
 your northern papers, it is not my wife, but the re-issue of 
 the Comic. It is intended to be sent into Germany, a? it 
 will be as cheap as foreign editions. I will send you the 
 inscriptions you desire in the parcel. When you write to 
 the Princes, pray make my respects to them. I am very 
 glad Prince Czartoryski had such sport, but you are all well 
 off in that particular — whereas, in Britain, we have fished at 
 them, till fish are scarce and shy. There is perch-fishing to 
 be had here in the moat, and I should think jack, somewhere 
 in the cuts from the canals. I shall try next summer, and 
 also at the sea fish, as a pot-hunter; there are good turbot 
 and capital John Dory ofi" the coast, and I suspect smelts in 
 the harbour; they do angle for flounders a little. What is 
 that fish you tell me of with a nob on his nose ? Send me 
 the German name, if you know it. And what fish is a wels ? 
 I can't find it in the dictionary — a sort of sturgeon perhaps. 
 Many thanks for the Lieder Buck. We have had a good 
 laugh over " Ach Gretchen viein tauhchen." Tom took a 
 fancy to it at first, and used to sing it. How Dr. Weiter- 
 hauser would stare to see my use of it ! 
 
 What will your poor Germans do for victuals and drink 1 
 First, the doctors found out that your wiirst was a slow — no, 
 active poison; and now a Diisseldorf chemist discovers that 
 all your " schnaps " and liqueurs are deleterious from being 
 made from bad potatoes. Then the Westminster Medical 
 Society has proved that your German candles are arsenicated 
 and poisonous ; and were there not edicts against your painted 
 sugar-plums that poisoned the children 1 Not that I should 
 care if all the Rhinelanders poisoned themselves or each 
 other; they are not fit for their beautiful country; but I 
 should not like it to spread further, as I hke the other 
 cousins, for example the Saxons. In justice to myself, I
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 289 
 
 must say we have heard several English speak in our own 
 style of Rhenish diet and the people, but they are not true 
 Germans, only mongrels. 
 
 And now, Tim, have I not written you a long letter at all 
 events? It will be as good as extra drill to read it all 
 through at once. I fear I shall not soon be able to write so 
 amply again, for I have great arrears of work, and shall be 
 as busy in my little bureau as a Prime Minister, or at least 
 a Secretary for the Home Department. 
 
 Our severe weather continues ; we all but stir the fire with 
 our noses, and sweep the hearth with our shoes. I wish you 
 would keep your own sort of winter at Bromberg; you are 
 used to it, but I am not, and am sitting in the house in my 
 snow shoes. 
 
 Now then farewell, Tim. God bless you, and may you 
 have good luck even in fishing. Take care of your liver, my 
 old boy, in peace-time, and in war-time of your bacon ; and 
 always take a spare pair of breeches with you to the Brake 
 for fear of falling in ! Should you ever have thoughts of 
 marrying, let me know, and I will give you some good 
 advice. I have strong misgivings that those private thea- 
 tricals will lead to something of that sort. As the children 
 say, " you may begin in play, and end in earnest." Perhaps, 
 whilst I write, the knot is tied, and you are in the honey- 
 moon with it all running down yoxir moustache ! For any- 
 thing I know. Carlo and Bonkowski have written to me to 
 use my influence to prevent your chucking yourself away. 
 I will go and get them translated to-morrow, and then per- 
 haps you will hear from me again. You were always dying 
 for somebody; but " Philip ! remember thou art mortal ! " 
 
 I have just heard that the London Packet (not a mail) is 
 gone ashore. I wish she was wrecked at once, she is such a 
 wretched craft. My portrait-paiuter was three days in. 
 
 VOL. X. IS>
 
 
 290 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 coming over here— besides I hate her very name, for re- 
 minding me of my own unseaworthiness, the lAver-TpooW 
 Whilst 1 was in London, all of a sudden there broke out 
 here in Ostend, several attempts at robbery, that quite 
 alarmed our quietude. A servant girl was knocked all down 
 stairs by a fellow secreted in a room above. At Bruges 
 there were several other attempts; some fellows I suppose 
 from London or Paris. I have accordingly put night-caps 
 on my detonators, and I believe we have an extra military 
 patrol. I wish they would rob me of my liver complaint : I 
 would not prosecute. Good bye for the last time, this is 
 the end of my news, till we grow some more. 
 
 39, Rue Lonqdk, Ostend, March 16, 1839. 
 
 My dear Wright, 
 
 I was very glad to have a few lines from you of 
 cheering import, of which I have much need. I never had 
 so little alacrity of body or mind, but you need never urge 
 me, for it is only needlessly spurring a willing horse ; I only 
 wish that my power equalled my wish, but I have been 
 almost "lower than plummet e'er did sound," — like the 
 weather, far below zero. I am now better, but by means so 
 foreign to my recent habits, that like the little old woman I 
 can hardly believe that I is I, for by medical advice I am 
 drinking port wine daily. I am glad you like the Grimaldi 
 cut, as I did myself, and I shall do as much as I can in that 
 style as I prefer it, and it is less trouble when I can do it. 
 
 But I am not always in the cue, I have found more diffi- 
 culty in inventing than in executing, my state allowing of 
 the mechanical, but not of the imaginative, yet I have had 
 some gleams. By the Stewardess you will receive another 
 cut and tail-piece, the subject Female Spouting ; I think I 
 shall be able to make a pleasant paper too on Grimaldi, an
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 29i 
 
 " Ode to Murphy, or Moore's Ghost," and the " Beny Book." 
 Be satisfied that for my own sake I will do all I can, ami 
 supposing you can wait till Monday, I do not despair of 
 doing something worth while. In the meantime I will give 
 you a selection to set up in type as before. 
 
 I am glad you are not out of heart, as I am not; there 
 has been hardly time to get the thing well, i.e., universally 
 known, and from this point it will go on improving, as I 
 shall myself in health. By the bye, as an instance of a 
 curious faculty I seem to possess, that I can hit off a likeness 
 aftei-wards, though not if a person were to sit to me ; I made 
 such a resemblance * of our servant's face when Grimaldi 
 called, that Jane recognized it, but unfortunately I blotted 
 it out accidentally with a drop of ink, and could not get it 
 again. 
 
 Thank goodness the weather is better, and I can, and do, 
 
 get out ; I am mending, and hope to rattle off the next No. 
 
 as I did the "Comic." Why don't you come here instead of 
 
 going to Cheshunt, and we will take a trip to Bniges 1 Take 
 
 care of yourself. I am vexed to trouble you so, but it won't 
 
 last long. 
 
 1 am, my dear Wright, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 * Besides this likeness, my father in "Up the Rhine," in the cut of 
 "A Spare Bed," achieved a very good caricature of Mr. Dilke, who was 
 as much amused at it as my father. He was often lucky in this way. 
 Apropos of a pencil sketch of De Quincey, who died some years ago — the 
 l;x8t, I believe, of the "Old London" contributors — he says, "Unable to 
 make anything ' like a likeness ' of a sitter for the purpose, I have a sort of 
 Irish faculty for taking faces behind their backs. But my pencil has not 
 been guilty of half the personalities attributed to it ; amongst others, of a 
 formidable likeness of a 'Lombard Street Banker.' Besides that one 
 would rather draw on h banker than at him, I have never seen the gentle- 
 man alluded to, or even a portrait of him, in my life." This was Rogers,
 
 292 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Apropos I want to patronise a poor self-taught wood-cutter 
 here, in a very humble line ; he only cuts butter stamps and 
 moulds for ginger-bread; but when you send a parcel, if you 
 have any worn-out gravers or tools it would be a charity. 
 
 This last little trait of kindness is one of many unknown 
 acts of a similar description performed by my father in an 
 unostentatious Christian charity, which might have been 
 with advantage imitated by some, who were in their denun- 
 ciation of him as noisy as the trumpets they blew before 
 them every time they " did an alms." 
 
 39, Rue Longue, Ostend, March 31, 1839. 
 My dear Doctor, 
 
 I fully intended to have had the happiness of 
 spending an evening at Stratford before my departure from 
 London, but thanks to a number of vexatious and unjustifi- 
 able delays in business, I was at last obliged to cut and run 
 to save time, leaving all the pleasures I had promised myself 
 to the future. 
 
 For instance I longed to see all your children, but I fear 
 now they will all be a year older should I meet them. But 
 it was very kind of you to come to Pimlico; and I rejoice at 
 it, as I think you and Dilke will know and like each other. 
 Pray tell Mrs. Elliot that I acknowledge my debt, and owing 
 her a visit, will pay it for my own sake the very first oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 I was fortunate in a veiy fine passage across, but have 
 been very poorly since my retui'n; the voyage to London 
 
 and the picture was in "Whims and Oddities," but in other instances my 
 father often hit off fair resemblances of persons he did not know, and 
 seemed, in "drawing" on fancy, to have hit on a well, where Truth 
 happened to be found. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 293 
 
 did me very great good, so much so that my foot healed two 
 or three days after my arrival. But — I need not tell you 
 how — I was well worried when in town (all booksellers are 
 alike), and my foot got worse, and at this present writing is 
 as bad, or nearly, as ever; my great anxiety to get my foot 
 healed is for the sake of air and exercise, and besides I shall 
 have to work pretty hard ere Midsummer. Unluckily we 
 have such a bad coast, bad boats, and bad boatmen, I cannot 
 sail, but I mean to take a trip to Dover and back now and 
 then, or perhaps to Havre, as there is a boat from here just 
 begun running. Poor Jane has not been very well through 
 fatigue and anxiety ; Fanny is pretty well, but Tom has 
 been troubled a little in cutting his back teeth. 
 
 He was very delighted to see me back, but I suppose I 
 did not romp with him quite equal to his expectations, for 
 after a day or two as I was sitting reading, he said with 
 an arch look at his mother, " I do wish my pa would come 
 home." 
 
 I was a good deal fatigued by my night journey in the 
 Dover mail, and no doubt looked invalid enough. So the 
 cabin boy placed a basin at my feet at starting, and I caught 
 him watching me intently throughout the passage, evidently 
 not a little wondering that only " the sick gentleman " 
 wouldn't be sick. To make the case more marked, a very 
 fierce looking foreign officer well moustached, was pitiably 
 " reduced to the lowest terms," and had all the fight, as well 
 as everything else, taken out of him. These are strange 
 constitutional differences — my own viscera for instance have 
 been so long deranged, I cannot imagine how they could be 
 proof against the malady. By the bye, did I ever tell you 
 of my Italian teacher at Coblenz and his emetic 1 He took 
 it over night, but after an hour or so, feeling very comfort- 
 able, he began to get very uncomfortable, so he drank a
 
 294 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 quantity of tea in hopes of " tea and turn out," which staid 
 with the emetic ; still more uncomfortable because he was 
 so comfortable, he then took warm water at intervals which 
 made him as comfortably uncomfortable as ever. 
 
 Then, getting a little nervous, he took some wine, no dis- 
 comfort, except the comfort. Then warm water again, still 
 only mentally uncomfortable, till finally, despairing of the 
 case he went to bed with his " corporation unreformcd," and 
 having spent the night in this manner, he comfortably took 
 his breakfast, which acted as the sailors say, " like a stopper 
 over all." That was a stomach to delight Franklin, for a? 
 poor Robin says, 
 
 " Get what you can, 
 And what you get, hold." 
 
 I wonder none of the quack doctors have got up an in- 
 Mlible nostrum against the sea malady. 
 
 It would be sure, one would think, of a sail. One can 
 almost fancy a little dialogue. 
 
 Passenger. " Well, Doctor, I have tried your sea-sick 
 remedy." 
 
 Doctor. " Well, — and how did it turn out?" 
 
 Thank heaven, the twenty-four articles are signed and we 
 are at peace. I have no desire to move again, except to 
 England. 
 
 My prospect of that coast is somewhat clearer, as my 
 health seems radically better, and, in the meantime, I have 
 learned to like even Ostend. It seems to agree with me in 
 spite of my foot. Moreover, as I learned when in town, I 
 am far from fit yet for a London life. Summer is before me, 
 and I do not mean to throw it away by late hours and dissi- 
 pation, but to try, by a regular system, to get a little a-head 
 in health. I am not desponding, but such annoyances ag
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 295 
 
 the present, weaken, and lower, and worry me, particularly 
 as I have as much to do as a strong person could get 
 through. 
 
 And now, God bless you all, and prosper you in every 
 way. Pray give our kindest regards to Mrs. Elliot. Mrs. 
 Hood, alias Jane, shall, and will write some day, but she is 
 so much of a nurse that, like her patient, her pen is obliged 
 to leave undone many things that should be done, — for in- 
 stance, the last Number of " Hood's Own.'' 
 
 I am, my dear Doctor, 
 
 Yours ever, very faithfully, 
 
 Tuos. Hood. 
 
 Have you read the account of Photogenic drawing or 
 Lithography ? Moore saw " History write with 'pencil of 
 light" but now light itself draws without any pencil at all. 
 'Tis a mercy light does not write, but perhaps even that will 
 be done hereafter, and Phoebus will not only be a patron 
 of poets, but a poet himself, and deal, like me, in Light 
 literature. 
 
 Jane, who has some maternal vanity, when she heard of 
 the sun drawing pictures, said, '' so does my son ! " 
 
 May 23, 1839. 
 To Lieut, de France, 
 
 Tim, says he, I am only able to write at short 
 
 length, having more work for my pen and less time to do it 
 
 in than ever. I have had a sad nine or ten months of it, 
 
 almost always ill, and then having to do everything in haste 
 
 by day and night. I think my liver complaint is tolerably 
 
 cured, and I have not spit any blood for a very long while, 
 
 but the curing has half killed me. I am as thin as a
 
 296 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 lath and as weak as plaster. Perhaps I have no blood 
 left to spit. 
 
 As to my leanness, look at the portrait. Tim, says he, 
 I was over in England about three months ago at Dilke's, 
 where I spent three weeks; but though I am quite at home 
 there, I came back to Ostend very willingly; late hours 
 and company do not agree with me yet. Will they ever ? 
 God knows. 
 
 Another year will set me up, or knock me down, — the 
 wear and tear of my nerves, «fec., cannot last longer. By the 
 bye, this very day I am forty, — and you will have to drink 
 my health out of a certain Bohemian Goblet, given to me on 
 a certain birth-day. As you cannot pledge me in it yourself, 
 I will cheerfully be your proxy, provided the wine be good. 
 As Beranger sings — 
 
 " Dans un gr^nier qu'on est bien k vingt ana ! " 
 
 But then I am two score, and sometimes am ready to call 
 them the Forty Thieves, for having stolen away all my youth 
 aud health. 
 
 Look at the picture, Tim, I do not quite look so ill as 
 then, but I am as weak as gin-and-water without the gin. 
 
 Since Jane wrote, I have found your list and procured 
 what tackle you wanted. But, moreover, I have had the 
 good luck to meet with some Jiere, which I jumped at, and 
 send, good or bad, with some flies and hooks I had by 
 me. For fear of plunder, I send a list signed by me, in 
 the box. 
 
 All the tackle you will be so kind as to accept from me — 
 with my best wishes towards the fisherman, and the worst 
 towards the fish— except the gentle-boxes, which Tom junior 
 (I will not call him my " son and heir," as you have neither 
 son nor hair) is desirous of sending you. He says, "The
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 29? 
 
 gentles have not only a little house, but a yard to walk 
 about in." I did not expect an improvement in a gentle-box, 
 but you see there is a little tray to roll them into and select 
 from, I guess you will enjoy the Pickwick — it is so very 
 English. 
 
 A longer letter next time from, 
 
 Dear Johnny, 
 
 Yours ever very truly, 
 
 Tim. 
 
 Saturday, Oct. 21, 1839.* 
 My owx Dearest and Best, 
 
 You will have wondered at not hearing from me, 
 and still more as a packet went to Bradbury, all of which 
 I have to explain. It is a mingled yarn I must spin of good 
 and bad. I was getting on so well, that, knowing its import- 
 ance at present, on many accounts, and as Mrs. D was 
 
 writing, I would not hinder myself; for it is not always I 
 have the power to compose, which I was enjoying. In fact, 
 I was rejoicing in my progress; and the only reason I did 
 not send a packet was this, that what I had written was 
 farther on in the book, and wanted some previous matter to 
 connect it; and as the Bradburys had a sheet to go to press 
 with, and half a sheet besides set up, I was afraid of locking 
 up their type. The last thing I did was the story of the 
 
 * About this time my mother went over to England to visit her family, 
 after an absence of four or five years. While she was away my father was 
 taken very ill, as will be seen in the following letter, which, however, is 
 very cheerfully written for fear of alarming her. My father was now 
 becoming aware of the fact that the Belgian climate did not suit him 
 better than the German. Only the native air of his own England suited 
 him. From that, his misfortune — and the faults of others, rather than 
 his own — excluded him. In spite of this, nevertheless, he kept up a 
 brave heart, and struggled against illnesses, which an attentive reader will 
 see were increasing in number and character every year. — T. H.
 
 298 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOIj. 
 
 man who overhears the devil repeating the fatal word. This 
 was finished on Wednesday night, but not posted, for the 
 above reason. And so I went to bed about eleven, well 
 pleased with my work ; but no sooner in bed than I had one 
 of my old rheumatic attacks in my foot. A sudden change 
 to very cold weather, I think, brought it on. You know 
 what those attacks are. Your desire that I should wish for 
 you, and not wish for you, literally came true. I missed the 
 comfort, but was hardly sorry you were not present to be 
 distressed by sufferings you could not relieve. I groaned all 
 the night through in agony, without intermission ; and on 
 Thursday morning, about ten, put on leeches, which relieved 
 me a little. Soon after, from sheer exhaustion, I fell asleep; 
 but almost immediately woke up again with a most violent 
 cramp in the same leg. The only remedy is to walk about 
 on it ; but with my foot all swelled and inflamed, I could not 
 put it to the ground, and could only wait till the cramp went 
 away of itself You may suppose the double anguish was 
 intolerable — in fact, it quite convulsed me; and when the 
 cramp was over, I had the pain all day, with only one short 
 doze. At night, it was worse than ever, and I got no relief 
 but by repeatedly putting it in hot water, and then only for 
 the moment. It was so dreadful, I made Maiy sleep in the 
 children's room, for I thought I should be delirious. It 
 abated a little in the day, but I was so weakened, I was less 
 able to bear it, but got a little sleep in the evening and in 
 the night. The pain only left me this morning, and I still 
 cannot move my foot freely. But it is so far over and gone, 
 though I am suffering from exhaustion. I waked several 
 times in the night quite in a dew of pei'spiration. To- 
 morrow I shall be up, I expect, in my own room. Mary 
 nursed me very attentively, aud the children were very 
 good. Poor Tibby made herself very useful, and Tom did
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD 299 
 
 his best at nursing, though it consisted in cuddling up one 
 of my hands and keeping it warm with everything he could 
 wrap round it. 
 
 I seem doomed to have the trial once a year, — thank God, 
 it only comes like Christmas. But I am not out of spirits, 
 for, in other respects, I have been unusually well, and getting 
 on. I am glad the Dilkes like the book, and have hopes of 
 it myself. I shall make it 12s., and it will have nearly, if 
 not quite, double the letterpress of the "Whims," and as 
 many cuts. 
 
 I do beg you will see Elliot, it is of as great concern as 
 anything else, and you are apt to forget yourself, dearest, 
 when other matters are in hand. Don't over-fatigue your- 
 self, but use those little flys. Come back to me well, and 
 you will find me so, or make me so, my best. We shall do 
 well yet, and weather the point, if my health keeps as it 
 promises. I shall go out to sea again. Trolling is over, 
 and long-line fishing begun. Backer does not stay out all 
 night, but goes one day and puts down his lines, returns, 
 aud goes and takes them up the next day. That would suit 
 me very well. Thank you, dearest, for the hemngs, they 
 were excellent. 
 
 I feel so much better that I shall go to work again this 
 evening. It will not hurt me, as getting on is the greatest 
 comfort I have. The children, bless them, are so good, aud 
 
 agree so well, it is quite delightful. Mrs. D takes them 
 
 out eveiy fine day. They both send love, and kisses, in 
 abundance. Tom has drawn me with the leeches on, and 
 says I roared like Dilke. You may tell Mrs. Dilke I mean 
 to lay up " my uncle "* in earnest at Coblenz, and let Franck 
 go on his march, whilst the old gent recovers. How useful 
 
 * My uncle and Franck, are two of tte characters in " Up the Khine. " 
 — T. H,
 
 300 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 " them Dilkes " are to me as suggestions ! It does me good 
 to hear of them, or from them. Pray give my love to them 
 and say, I now do hope we may all meet on this side of 
 heaven. Also the Elliots, and ask his consent to the Dedi- 
 cation. Remember me kindly to W. Dilke if you see him. 
   • * * * 
 
 God bless you my own, enjoy yourself as much as you 
 can, you may be easier about me now this is over than 
 before. It was cruel suffering; but I could not describe, 
 without laughing, that cramp, for I was pirouetting about 
 on one leg, and the other drawn up in such a twist, as only 
 Grimaldi used to effect. Or remembering I was only in my 
 shirt, I must have been like Oscar Byrne in his short tunic, 
 and making as many grimaces. Luckily I was alone, for 
 I must have bundled out of bed, had Hannah More been 
 present ! Don't tell Mrs. Dilke, or she will never lend me a 
 spare bed again. Mary has brought me up a two-fold supper 
 on one plate ; on one side a roasted apple, on the other some 
 nondescript "strips" (tripe).* I ate the apple, and looked at 
 the tripe, Verbum sap. She is very attentive, so bring her 
 something. God bless you again, I am going to settle, it's 
 half past ten. 
 
 I forgot to say I shall want four " Hood's Own " (in the 
 vol.), you had better send them per stewardess, as I suspect 
 you will be loaded. 
 
 N.B. Dories are coming in, tell the Dilkes. The other 
 day I, Tom, and Fanny had a little one a piece. 
 
 I must wait for Sydney Smith till I'm richer, — perhaps 
 they will reprint it at Brussels. Mrs. R. has not sent my 
 books yet— I bide my time. As to the Farce, the best way 
 will be by a note to try Matthews' mind, — it was accepted 
 
 * The Dutch servant's idea of the English word " tripe."— T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 301 
 
 by Price, but stopped by his stoppage. (Bulletin) Husza ! 
 I cau move my toes ! _ 
 
 OsTENP, November 7, 1839. 
 My dear Dilke, 
 
 * * »     
 
 As regards Boz, his morale is better than his material, 
 though that is often very good ; it is wholesome reading : the 
 drift is natural, along with the great human currents, and not 
 against them. His purpose sound, with that honest indepen- 
 dence of thinking, which is the constant adjunct of true- 
 heartedness, recognising good in low places, and evil in high 
 ones, in short a manly assertion of Truth as truth. Com- 
 pared with such merits, his defects of over-painting, and the 
 like, are but spots on the sun. 
 
 For these merits alone, he deserves all the successes he 
 has obtained, and long may he enjoy them ! As for Jack 
 Sheppard, the test of its value is furnished by the thieves 
 and blackguards that yell their applause at its slang songs, 
 in the Adelphi. Can the penny theatres so unceremoni- 
 ously routed, produce any effects more degrading and demo- 
 ralising? From what I have heard of their pieces, they 
 were comparatively mere absurdities to such positive Moral 
 Nuisances. 
 
 The Inland Navigation was also interesting. I like to see 
 scientific theories thus justified by practice. Brains are 
 
 better than brute force after all ! 
 
 * * * * » 
 
 I am very glad you like my German book so far. I think 
 I have kept old Orchard true to himself; but I fear it is 
 vastly unlike the character of that pig-headed, purblind, 
 bigoted being, an English agricultural country gentleman; 
 a species identified with com laws, no popery, " Bible, Crown,
 
 302 MEMOEULS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 and Constitution," and all other creeds and opinions that are 
 
 sown by narrow instead of broad cast. However a man with 
 
 Death constantly before his eyes, would probably be more 
 
 honest, and tolerant. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Talking of Germany, I have just heard from Franck, who 
 desires his remembrances to you and Mrs. Dilke. He is now 
 in Silesia making, or at least superintending the manufacture 
 of guns. Possibly Russia and Prussia have some joint war 
 game in view, with a very blind reliance on bayonets, by 
 number, and a gi-eat ignorance of their own real position. 
 The death of the King, made prudent by reverses, if it were 
 to happen at this juncture might precipitate the denoue- 
 ment. But with a plot in his army, and the Circassians, I 
 should think Nicholas had enough to do at home. The 
 moral effect of that brilliant affair iu India at this crisis will 
 be great. " If England to herself would be but true," if 
 Englishmen would but seek their own good in the national 
 welfare, instead of the reverse ; if instead of attributing her 
 past greatness to old systems of misrule and corruption, 
 because they were contemporaneous, they would but see 
 that she flourished in spite of them I But alas ! like the 
 blind young gentleman in the " Tatler," the more you couch 
 them, the more they will blunder and mistake one thing for 
 another. He took the cook, didn't he % for his sweet-heart, 
 and the postman for his father. 
 
 Apropos to Germany how very C — ish are the letters from 
 Berlin andLeipsic ! How he jumps from the Tui'k's turbans, 
 by a Yolti subito, to the crotchets and quavers. 
 
 " With rings on his fingers and (bells on his toos ?) 
 We shall have music wherever he goes ! " 
 
 I defy you, editor as you are, to make a more apt and
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 403 
 
 characteristic quotation; poor dear editors, when the new 
 postage begins, how you will be pelted by penny letters ! 
 
 Tom and Fanny are quite well, poor dear things, they are 
 the only comforts I have in my goutiness, namely, by making 
 them sit still because I can't walk about ! And that is such 
 a comfort, (if you ask the philosophers) to crusty people. 
 My poor legs ! I must go and stick them in the sands, as 
 the piles are, to get mussels to 'em ! By the bye I am going 
 to have some for supper; they don't swell me, as they did 
 your Mussulman, and they would only improve my figure if 
 they did. Poor Mary, she tries to nurse and suit me, only 
 when I had no appetite, the weakest stomach, and worst 
 digestion, she brought me a bullock's liver to tempt me. 
 But she does her best, which is more than Lord Camel- 
 ford did. 
 
 My landlord has just sent me up a prospectus he has 
 I'eceived from Frankfort, inclosing shares of a lottery for the 
 grand estate of Gross Zdekau, in Austria ! To gull John 
 Bull I reckon. I guess they won't get much out of the 
 close-fisted Belgians. I remember such a lottery before for 
 a pi'incely estate somewhere in Germany, and the prince won 
 it himself ! How very lucky ! But you know, Dilke, the 
 Germans are so honest ! For instance I read this day in 
 the " Life of Holtz," 
 
 " It occurred to me to give lessons in Greek and English, 
 for the purpose of earning something, and taking the burthen 
 off my father; I gave daily five lessons; but I have not been 
 paid by half my pupilf?. Some have gone away, and others 
 show no intention of paying !" Mind that's a German's own 
 account of German honesty, and not mine, Von Dilke ! But 
 what an ungrateful dog I am ! The first thing Franck saw 
 in a Silesian circulating library was " Tales from the Works 
 of Thomas Hood, translated by Gustavus Sellen, Leipsic,"
 
 304 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 (seven of the "National Tales"). " Now I am sure," says 
 Franck, " you never wrote them, firstly because I never 
 heard you mention them, and secondly they are not at all 
 like you, they are much too sentimental, and as high- 
 flown and flowery as the Germans generally write their 
 novels ! " That's what I call translation, not merely done 
 into the German language, but into the German style, and 
 German feeling. 
 
 The first thing I have found do me any good, was a bottle 
 of porter, so I have continued it, three glasses per day, 
 eschewing all other drinks, luckily it's very gettable here, 
 and I think it helps me to fetch up my long arrears of 
 sleep; in case I don't, I have little Tom for a bed-fellow till 
 Jane returns; only the sick, and sleepless, and spiritless can 
 know the comfort, the blessing of a familiar voice in the 
 long dreary night. Mind I don't wake him up on purpose, 
 but, even if I did, his good temper would excuse it. Being 
 waked in such a way is a sure test of temper, if ever you 
 want to try Mrs. Dilke's. / rouse up very well, and patiently, 
 particularly about ten in the morning. I am living in a sort 
 of world before time. Tom has managed to stop the works 
 of my watch, the Black Forest clock* has stopped of itself, 
 and there's a Dutch clockmaker's over the way but it's dark, 
 • — I guess it's about half past ten, but it may be two in the 
 morning, so I'll shut up. My kindest regards to Mrs. Dilke, 
 (I shall write next to her,) to Wentworth, and to William if 
 in town. God bless you all, saith, 
 
 Dear Dilke, 
 
 Yours ever very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 * A little eccentric German clock, a " striking " favourite of my father's, 
 who purchased it in the Schwarzwald. Mrs. Dilke bought one at the same
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 805 
 
 P.S. Mrs. Dilke, if you are a happy woman, and don't 
 want to be a widder, read all Dilke's letters and notes first. 
 
 The Count de la P will call him out, but don't let him 
 
 go out any more than his Arnott's stove. If anybody en- 
 quires after the editor, say " Mr. C 's in Germany, but I 
 
 don't exactly know where, — it begins with a B ! " Good bye. 
 " God bless." 
 
 You need have no remorse about this letter. You would 
 not have had such a long one if I had not actually despatched 
 a packet by this very night's steamer for Bradbury. As the 
 boys say from school to their fathers, " I am getting on very 
 well in my writing ! " and at this j)resent somewhat ahead of 
 the printer. 
 
 La Rhetorique, Rub St. FRAN901S, Nov. 18, 1839. 
 
 Dear Dilke, 
 
 I should think C would not part with his auto- 
 graph, but I think it very probable that M appropriated 
 
 one. After the "Gem" was done, a silver cup, or something, 
 was sent to Sir Walter, and there may have been a letter 
 springing out of that to me, as editor. I feel sure I have 
 kept all mine. I should like to know the fact. 
 
 You were quite right about mj advertisement, but it was 
 a difficulty I have not yet got over. I am toiling hard for 
 the 25th, but it is such weather ! It's a wretched climate 
 in spring, autumn, and winter : such damp, unwholesome 
 fogs. Our paved yard has been sloppy wet the last week, 
 without a drop of rain. Plenty of low fever and dysentery in 
 the town : yet it is better than inland, for we have the sea. 
 
 time, and unfortunately some of the works of the two got transferred from 
 one to the other, and they never went well in consequence. This is the 
 origin of the jokes made by my father in his letter to Mrs. Dilke, about 
 their having one another's " insides." — T. H. 
 
 VOL. X. 20
 
 306 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I am so glad you haven't seen the Bruges casket yet. I 
 would get Jane to copy out a criticism on that, too, but there 
 isn't room. Besides you threaten to print, — wherefore I shall 
 send nothing but cutting-up strictures on the " Athenseum " 
 in future, which you may extract in it if you like. 
 
 You talk of my being meant for a painter, — Tom is ; 
 t'other day he cut a great notch out of his hair. " How 
 came you to do that?" asked his mother. Says Tom, as 
 grave as a judge, "for a paint-brush!'''' There's early bias 
 for you ! Now I must go to work again. It will be my 
 waking dream, our Belgian Tour. Kind regards to Went- 
 worth, and love to all. 
 
 Ever, dear Dilke, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 My DEAR Mrs. Dilke, 
 
 I owe you a letter ! 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 P.S. — Eleven at night. 
 
 La Rhetorique, Rue St. FxANgois, a Ostknd, 
 November 23, 1839. 
 My dear Doctor Elliot, 
 
 I ought to have written to you before, but I am 
 terribly hurried in getting out my book, having been thrown 
 back by the weather of this uncertain climate. The truth 
 is, I cannot quite make out yoiu" meaning, or your wish in 
 your note to Mrs. Hood about the dedication. If you mean 
 to imply that I should look out some more illustrious j^er- 
 sonage, or great man, who might have patronage, T have no
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 i>07 
 
 hopes or desires of that nature, but prefer inscribing my 
 books to parties I respect and esteem, or have a regard for, — 
 such as yourself. 
 
 But perhaps you are averse to having your name brought 
 before the pubhc in that way; in any case, do not scruple at 
 once to object, lijonfeel any objection, and I will not be too 
 inquisitive about your reasons. May I beg your answer hy 
 return of post — a few lines will suffice, as I know how your 
 time is occupied with business. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 ?Eg.cr.
 
 308 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1840. 
 
 At Ostend — Letters to Dr. Elliot — Goes to England — Is taken seriously ill 
 at Stratford— Letters to his Wife — Mrs. Hood joins him at Stratford 
 — Letter to Mr. Dilke — Returns to Ostend — Final settlement in Eng- 
 land, at Cambei-well — Mrs. Hood to Lieutenant de Franck — Letter to 
 Dr. Elliot — Discovers the misconduct of his Publisher — Commences 
 a law-suit against him — Engaged on The New Monthly — "Miss 
 Kilmansegg. " 
 
 llth March, 1840. 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 I feel deeply obliged in the lowest depth, and 
 
 deeper still, for your prompt and kind letter. I have just 
 
 translated it to one of the Belgian Consultation, and hasten 
 
 to give you the result. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Now here was a striking proof of the ill eflfect of the 
 climate. Though the weather looked so beautiful, the earth 
 was in one of its cold sweats : at three o'clock the whole 
 place was wrapped in a white mist, and our paved yard as 
 wet as after rain. It is quite curious to watch the pheno- 
 menon. Fi'om the yard a flight of about twelve or fifteen 
 steps leads to the second floor. You literally see the damp 
 ascend, step by step, till the whole flight is wet. To natives 
 and residents in health this may not prove so obviously 
 injurious ; but to invalids, and especially coming into it at 
 this season, its effects are very marked. I have just heard 
 of a case like mine. 
 
 Moreover, Mr. D , a strong man, returned from fox- 
 hunting in England last Friday, and is now taken with a
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 309 
 
 sore throat, and unwell, and attributes it altogether to the 
 same cause. As to myself, I am a perfect hygrometer, and 
 for a wager could tell, by my feelings alone, whether the 
 stones in our yard were wet or dry. I can perfectly, I 
 think, understand the peculiar effect of the air on me as on 
 Sunday. * * * However, whether the lungs be touched 
 or not, I shall follow your instructions as if they were ; 
 though I could hardly help smiling at a part of them — 
 where I was " to be mum and very still ; " it sounded so 
 much like an exhortation from a Friend to turn Quaker. 
 But, in reality, I find no difference in my voice, it is as 
 strong as usual, and I read aloud your letter from end to 
 end without the slightest inconvenience. In the Walcheren 
 low fevers (akin to the effects of this air), bark I believe was 
 the great specific : and in the same way the tonics may do 
 me good. * * * 
 
 Till I get over the blood-spitting, I sit wholly in my bed- 
 room ; it looks to the west and is better secured. My own 
 room is not very air-tight, and the windows front the east, and 
 in spite of fire I feel its evil influence. The ground-floor is 
 
 uninhabitable — it drips with damp ! 
 
 ***** 
 
 Without all these means and appliances (hot bottles, 
 baths, &c.), I find great difficulty in keeping warm extre- 
 mities. I even cover my hands, and, like Sir Roger de 
 Coverley's literary ancestor in the picture, write sonnets 
 with my gloves on. For, alas ! I cannot follow up one of 
 your rules, and give up all work. Throughout I have been 
 obliged to puzzle through very ill-kept and tardily-rendered * 
 
 • My father was a good arithmetician. Many of his rough MS3. were 
 covered with sums in the neatest of figures. One of the games, which (aa 
 I have mentioned) he invented for us, was a truly British game of mer- 
 chantmen. Boxes rigged with paper sails represented our traders, and
 
 310 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 accounts — a harassing job enough — and I know its ill effects 
 on me ; but necessitas non habet I But I leave all such 
 matters to talk over with you by word of mouth some day. 
 Really I was half-inclined to come across by to-day's packet 
 to see you, feeling it a serious case if I should happen not to 
 be in the right course. But I gave up the idea as very 
 inconvenient just now, and in some respects a risk. I was 
 obliged to leave London suddenly, or I should most cer- 
 tainly have come to Stratford, as I had planned. If I did 
 not write from Grosvenor-place, it was only from fear of 
 taxing your kindness, remembering the great distance, and 
 how you are engaged. I was exceedingly disappointed that 
 I could not drop in on you, and show you my boy ; he is a 
 fine healthy fellow, very good, and almost reads.* He 
 behaved most manfully on his travels, by sea and land, and 
 was quite a gallant in London, as perhaps the Dilkes told 
 you. Fanny is more delicate, but very good and very 
 clever. With tolerable wealth I could be very happy, for 
 my prospects are far from hopeless, indeed far otherwise — in 
 fact, looking up. Poor Jane does not mend much ; but her 
 anxiety and fatigue about me are against her, probably the 
 climate also. But I hope in autumn to quit Ostend, that 
 is to say, I must; for another winter would assuredly 
 kill me. 
 
 I was amused by a remark of old Dr. Jansen's (for he is 
 
 ■were freighted with different articles of commerce, to be bartered at various 
 "ports" in different parts of the room. For this game our father used to 
 make us out miniature "bills of parcels, and freight," and merchants' 
 accounts, which I only regret were not preserved, as they were remarkable 
 for neatness and accuracy. — T. H. 
 
 * We have thought it best not to omit any of these frequent mentions of 
 his children, as to those who knev him the letters would lack a cha- 
 racteristic, and to those who did not know him, would fail to show the 
 warmth of his domestic affections, if these passages had been struck out. — 
 T. H.
 
 MEMORLiLS OF THOMAS HOOD. 311 
 
 quite a veteran). I said my sedentary profession was 
 against me. And when he understood it was literary 
 " Ah ! " said he, with a glance at a thin, yellowish face, " a 
 serious writer, of course." Akin to this, I one day ovei-heard 
 a dispute between Tom and Fanny as to what I was. " Pa's 
 a literary man," said Fanny. " He's not ! " said Tom : " I 
 know what he is." " What is he, then ? " " Why," says 
 Tom, " he's not a literary man — he's an invalid." They 
 have made me an honorary Vice-President of the African 
 Institute at Paris. Oddly enough, the day afterwards two 
 black gentlemen came here in a ship on their way to 
 Havannah. They caused some speculation in the town, so I 
 gave out that they were a black deputation to bring my 
 diploma. 
 
 I must now follow your rule, and go to bed. Our Carnival 
 is fortunately over (the maskers of the lower class were 
 dreadfully noisy), and we can sleep o' nights. 
 
 God bless you all. My wife's love to Mrs. Elliot and my 
 
 kind regards along with it. Your united healths in a 
 
 tumbler of Vitriolic ! As I know your time is precious, do 
 
 not trouble yourself to answer this, as there seems nothing 
 
 of consequence to reply to ; and, in the meantime, I shall 
 
 follow your rules. 
 
 I am, dear Doctor, 
 
 Yours ever very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 P.S. Can my spitting blood have ceased because I have 
 none left 1 What a subject for a German romance, " The 
 Bloodless Man ! " 
 
 What a droll notion of a Greek lately applying to the 
 Tribunal at Athens to move for a new trial in re Socrates ! 
 The Court refused to enter on the matter. It might have
 
 312 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 reversed the verdict on the philosopher, but who could 
 unpoison him 1 
 
 La Rhetorique, Rue St. FRAN5013, X Ostend, 
 March 29th, 1840. 
 
 My dear Doctor, 
 
 Many thanks for your very kind letter. I am 
 happy to tell you, that I have had no return of the blood 
 since I mentioned. I am more than ever convinced the 
 great evil is the climate ; and it appears to be characteristic, 
 as of Holland, <fec., that when once the climate gets hold of 
 you in such a way, there is no remedy but to leave it. It is 
 my belief, that this place, the height of summer excepted, 
 cannot be good for any one ; but that for any peculiar com- 
 plaint or predisposition, it is one of the very worst that could 
 be selected. 
 
 I perfectly understand your description of my case, and 
 have not the slightest doiibt of your being right. What J 
 mean to say is, there is no lung disease, i. e. original. This 
 mischief is in the stomach or liver : and I can imagine how 
 that may affect the lungs, or any other neighbouring part, 
 as an embarrassment or stoppage hi the Strand would affect 
 bridges or any other laterals. 
 
 Your kind invitation is a very tempting one in every way. 
 For the mere benefit of your opinion, I was half tempted to 
 run across for a week : but, in reality, the voyage and 
 change of air always do me so much good, and so promptly, 
 that, instead of seeing me indisposed, you would be almost 
 inclined to think half my complaint must be hyp — or sham. 
 I almost suspect it is the belief of some of my non-medical 
 friends. For instance, how well I was at Dilke's ! You 
 know better ; but still, you could not see an attack. 
 
 I never had even an inclination to spit blood in London. 
 Then at Dilke's I used daily to let the fire go out ; whereas
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 313 
 
 here I am perpetually scorching my boots to keep my feet 
 warm, and cannot keep my hands out of my pockets for cold. 
 Moreover, my mind always derives benefit from the change 
 of scene, and a little society ; and altogether I am better 
 always for a trip to England. But there are too many lions 
 in the path for me to think of it at present. In the mean- 
 time, I will follow your rules as closely as possible, and if I 
 can but hold on till the fine weather sets in, I hope I shall 
 get over these attacks whilst I have to remain at Ostend. 
 
 My principal suffering at present is that after dinner, 
 however light, — a bit of fish, for instance, whiting or haddock 
 — I feel a great discomfort, not easy to describe, a compoimd 
 of sinking and yet oppression : sometimes a little drowsiness, 
 languor, lassitude, and a craving, not for wine in particular, 
 but some assistance, either stimulus or warmth. I longed 
 for my tea, for example, but find coffee still more comforting, 
 and have it directly after dinner. It seems to me to be that 
 the first process of digestion is so weak. I take no other 
 liquids save toast or barley-water. 
 
 So God bless you all. With kind regards from us to 
 
 you both, 
 
 I am, dear Doctor, 
 
 Yours ever very truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 In accordance with Dr. Elliot's wish and invitation, my 
 father went to England, where he was seized with a very 
 severe attack of spitting blood at Dr. Elliot's house, as the 
 following letters to my mother describe : — 
 
 Stratford, April 15th, 1840. 
 My own Dearest and Best, 
 
 I could not write yesterday to you, nor can much 
 to-day. I came here on Monday evening, and fortunately
 
 314 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 for me, for iu the evening, or rather at uight, I had a very 
 bad attack, spitting more blood than ever at once, except 
 the first time at Coblcnz. The Doctor watched it, and 
 meant to bleed me, but it went off. Tuesday morning it 
 returned ; and, by way of saving blood, he took some from 
 my arm, till I was rather faint. I am now better, but am 
 obliged to keep silence and remain in bed. It will be a 
 comfort to you, dearest, to know I am here with all skill 
 and help at my hand, and every comfort and care. A 
 brother and sister could not be kinder to me than they are ; 
 only one other could nurse me more tenderly and affec- 
 tionately. So pray do not be anxious on my account. I 
 am now better, body and mind. The Doctor says he has 
 now no doubt on my case, that I am as he expected to find 
 me, and the affection is what he supposed it to be, aggravated 
 by the largeness of my heart. The more to give to you, 
 
 love ! 
 
 ***** 
 
 The weather is fine, but with a cold east wind, though I 
 
 do not suffer from it under an English roof in an English 
 
 bed. I am hoping you had fine weather for your Bruges 
 
 trip, which would do you all good. Dilke, if he can, is to 
 
 come here to-day to see me. Poor Mrs. D. wrote me such a 
 
 storm of wind, to account for my not hearing from you on 
 
 Wednesday, thinking I was worrying myself. I have written 
 
 to quiz her on her hurricane, as there was no post. 
 
 ***** 
 
 I quite regret that I was prevented from bringing Tom 
 here ; he would have been so happy. There is a little 
 fellow, full of fun, about his own age, and a little girl, so 
 like what Willie was, it struck me in an instant. They are 
 all very well. I am a sort of melodramatic mystery, I 
 suspect, to some of the boys, associated with many basons
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 315 
 
 and blood ! The two little ones have visited me iu my 
 
 room, and this morning brought me in the Comic Annual to 
 
 amuse me ! To the little things I must look a very odd 
 
 personage, for I have been unshaved since last Saturday, and 
 
 am almost a sapeur. But I avoid all exertion, and keep iu 
 
 bed in hope of discounting the attack. 
 
 It is rather trying to my patience to be so laid up — 
 
 passive, when I ought to be active. 
 
 ***** 
 
 They have a nice garden here, and a paddock. I take a 
 look out of my window sometimes, and invariably find my 
 eyes resting on Shooter's Hill. A blue hill is a novelty after 
 our flats. Then the quiet is quite delicious. I do not hear 
 a sound. Now the Rue St. FranQois is almost as noisy as 
 Cheapside, with railway-trucks and fish-barrows. I feel very 
 English-like here j that is as good as saying I feel very com- 
 fortable ! 
 
 The young D s are expected back soon ; they are at 
 
 Henley-on-Thames. They are to live in Sloaue Street. We 
 have had a deal of fun, Mrs. Dilke and I, about the haste of 
 the wedding, that the cake was put in a veiy quick oven, 
 (fee. I told Mrs. Dilke they ought to have put it in the 
 papers thus : — " Suddenly, on such a day, at St. Luke's, 
 Pimlico." 
 
 Mrs. Elliot has just looked in, and desires her love to you, 
 I know you will give them credit for all kindness, but it is 
 really delightful, and I am so very comfortable ; it must help 
 my getting well, for it soothes my mind, which else has 
 enough to fret about. But I turn my thoughts into the 
 pleasantest channels I can, none more so than yourself and 
 the children. I think of you continually, and, however well 
 ofi", must pine and long for your faces and kisses. God bless 
 you all, again and again ! Do let me hear from you soon
 
 316 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 that you are better, and let us get well, body and mind 
 together. I long to write more, but am forbidden. 
 ***** 
 
 Stratford, April 18th, 1840. 
 My own dearest Love, 
 
 As you seem so anxious about me, I write, though 
 it should prove but a few lines, to make you more easy. 
 You have no doubt been alarmed by my writing from bed, 
 where I still am ; but not from inability to rise, but as a 
 sort of precaution. But I have had no fresh attack since 
 the bleeding in the arm. I suspect had I been bled at first 
 at Ostend instead of lingering on for fourteen days, it would 
 have averted all this; but the Doctor says they probably 
 thought I had no blood to spare, and he only bled me to 
 save blood in the end. He seems to think that the great 
 cause is in the heart itself, and that in future I must live 
 very quietly : * as free as possible from mental agitation or 
 annoyance. Alas, how difficult for any of us to escape ! He 
 is very eaniest for my returning to England, as the best 
 climate for both mind and body, and at this moment, there 
 are many inducements literally before my eyes. It is a lovely, 
 sunny day. Imagine me in bed, with the window open, 
 looking over their garden across the country, so green with 
 its meadows and hedges, and Shooter's Hill so beautifully 
 blue in the distance. It looks lovely and yet " my heart's 
 in the foi«;lands — my heart is not here," and I feel how many 
 other conditions are necessary to my living in England. In 
 the meantime let it console you, that I am enjoying English 
 comforts; my bed, even when it could not be made for 
 
 * My mother was always careful to keep my father free from any 
 anxiety and worry that she could, and we children were brought up in a 
 sort of Spartan style of education, and taught the virtues of silence and 
 low voices. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 317 
 
 two or three days, was more comfortable than my Utter- 
 ing down abroad. My great misery is to lie here, doing 
 nothing in the way of work, or arrangements, for I am not 
 allowed to speak enough for business matters. 
 
 ***** 
 But by the present sacrifice of time, as of blood, I hope to 
 save in the end, by avoiding any risk of relapse. You are 
 right about my cravings, I do long for the old familiar faces 
 — and the young ones, too — and the dear sweet voices and 
 loving kisses. " There's no place like home," especially for 
 the sick or sorrowful. Yet is this the very next to one's 
 own house ; and in one respect better, and in that we must 
 both take comfort. I have great hope the extreme care and 
 skill I am treated with, must do me permanent good. The 
 kindness and attention of both the Doctor and Mrs. Elliot 
 are delightful; she brings me everything herself, and fore- 
 stalls all my wants and wishes. I have daily visits, too, 
 from the children. Willie, now a fine lad, likes to come and 
 talk a little. 
 
 I find if I close shortly it will go off to-day, so I must 
 finish. Of course I have no news, had I tune, beyond what 
 I have told you of myself. I am grieved to hear of your 
 bad cold, but of course it was from the early journej^, but 
 the jaunt would cheer you up a bit. As you cannot nurse 
 me take all good care of my other self, and above all do not 
 fret about me, but let us meet again, well and happy on both 
 sides. I wish I could write to my dear good children. Kiss 
 them fondly for me, I know what a comfort they must be 
 to you. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The Doctor has just been up, and he says I am going ou 
 very welL I promise you faithfully to let you know should
 
 318 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I be worse, so that when you do not hear from me you may 
 bo at ease. 
 
 Stratfoud, Good Friday, April, 1840. 
 
 My own Dearest, 
 
 Recollecting that you would not otherwise hear till 
 1'nesday, I cannot deprive you so long of what I know will 
 be such comfortable news for you, as my being much better. 
 Fortunately the weather has been beautiful. On Tuesday I 
 had my bed-room window open nearly all day ! On Wednes- 
 I came down stairs, for the first time, and took a turn in the 
 garden. Yesterday I was out in it for a still longer time, 
 and the fresh air really seems fresh life to me. Good air 
 acts as potently on me as bad. I do not feel so weak as I 
 expected, from the loss of blood and low diet. I take no 
 meat, only light puddings, with tea, coffee, and the vitriolic 
 lemonade as drinks. Oranges, and lemonade made with 
 isinglass, biscuits and sponge cakes. There you have my 
 diete. The rigour of my silence is relaxed a little, and I am 
 beginning to make acquaintance with the " kin." William, 
 George, and Gilbert are nice boys — then little Dunsterville, 
 about Tom's age, Jeanie a year older, and the baby, a girl. 
 They all look so well and happy it is a pleasure to be amongst 
 them. Such regrets that I could not bring Tom here, last 
 time ! Dilke has talked of him to them a good deal. By- 
 the-bye, it seems to me, being fine, and a holiday, I may 
 possibly see something of the Dilkes to-day, as she talked of 
 coming. Tell Tibbie and Tom, being Good Friday, I break- 
 fasted to-day on regular hot-cross buns. I shall long for 
 their letters, as I have done for their dear faces and gossip; 
 and you may suppose I have had many lonely hours in bed, 
 for being forbidden to talk, it was better to have no one to 
 sit with me. But now comes the hardship. As I get better.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 319 
 
 my mind gets anxious, and I long to be doing. Whilst it 
 was impossible I submitted; by dint of reading, I kept my 
 mind quiet, and have been tolerably patient; but now that 
 I am able to get down and walk out, though but a little, all 
 the urgency of my affairs returns on me in spite of myself; 
 but I must banish them, or I shall be thrown back again. 
 
 I am sitting opposite my open window, and by help of 
 Shooter's Hill can tell which way lies Ostend. I seem to 
 have the pigeon's sight, but wish for the pigeon's flight along 
 with it, towards home. My hope is that this attack may 
 enable the doctor to judge, and put me on a good plan for 
 the future. But I had rather my liver had been worse, and 
 my heart better, as I know I am fore-doomed to wear and 
 tear, and that is worst for the last. I must not write a 
 great deal now, or I shall lose my lounge in the garden. I 
 have got to dress, and the post goes from here at three. I 
 dine between one and two. 
 
 I mean to try and write a ballad or something, whilst 
 I am here; but my mind, as well as my body, as yet feels 
 very languid. Every comfort but seeing you, I have here, 
 and all that kindness can do, or think of. There is no 
 country like England, no people like the English after all. 
 
 I am not surprised at B 's wanting to go to New 
 
 Zealand ; there are simple savages there to take in and 
 plunder. 
 
 You must not take fright at my scrawl; it is the best 
 I can manage, unless the vitriol water I have put in mends 
 my ink. My pen ought to run to say all I feel towards 
 yoii, for I think of you incessantly, and it helps to make 
 me well. 
 
 Now that I'm off your hands, I do hope you will take care
 
 320 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 of yourself; it will be no use my getting well, if you don't : 
 it will be like a paralysis of one side. 
 
 I can see the smoke of the steamers going up and down 
 the river, and it sets me longing. This time I hope to come 
 home direct, and not through Dover. 
 
 But for the " world's gear," how happy could I be in spite 
 of ill health ! I half suspect the sickness of my heart has 
 been from hope deferred. But time and the tide wear 
 through the roughest day ; so pluck up your spirits, dear 
 one, and let us hope still ; it is better, at all events, than 
 despairing. If you were but as near as you ai'e dear to me, 
 I think I should find little ailing. If it but please God to 
 spare me you and my bairns sound and well, I will not 
 repine at the rest. 
 
 Stratford, Ajaril, 1840. 
 I am very sorry, my own dearest and best, to have 
 been the cause of disappointing you; but I only told you 
 what my own impression was on the subject of your coming. 
 I must confess I almost wished afterwai'ds that you should 
 come, in spite of it; your good heart so seemed set upon it. 
 I do not either undervalue tlie comfort you would be to me, 
 though I hardly see how you could well help me in business 
 matters; and I should be anxious about the "kin" in the 
 absence of both of us. 
 
 As regards myself, I am mending, though very slowly. I 
 have not deceived you about my state : I do not spit even 
 stale blood now ; but I am very weak and languid, often low 
 and nervous, as you may suppose, as up to this I have never 
 eaten any animal food, or had any drink save tea or coflfee. 
 But the Doctor thinks it the best and safest course, and 
 evidently proceeds very cautiously, as I have no doubt a
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 321 
 
 relapse now would be very serious. I could (but don't) fret 
 a good deal at the delays and loss of time; and, in spite 
 of all my efforts, at times am much disturbed to think that 
 nothing is doing. I try to write a trifle, but cannot, from 
 prostration of mind and body. Up till now, indeed, I have 
 been sadly troubled with beatings and noises in the head ; 
 I am getting better, but it takes time. Yesterday I had 
 a ride out for the first time, with the doctor, past Lake 
 House, as far as old Rounding's and back. It did me good. 
 The weather is still good, luckily, and is all in my favour ; 
 but I have not yet been to town, nor do I yet feel equal to 
 business. My nerves are shaken, and my spirits are low 
 generally, though I keep as tranquil as I can. But it frets 
 my heart to remain thus passive; in fact, I cannot go on so 
 much longer, but must exert myself at all hazards. I have 
 received your letter by post, but not the children's, which 
 I hope to have in the course of the day. I will answer them 
 both ; and am going to send down to Thames-street for the 
 Sardines. 
 
 Mrs. Elliot (the doctor is out) has begged me to give you 
 the warmest invitation. I do not know what to say ; if I 
 were merely selfish, it would instantly be " Come." I must 
 leave it to your own resolve whether you can come comfort- 
 ably, and can feel .secure about the children ; for I see you 
 are fretting yourself ill about me. Perhaps you could save 
 me some trouble in inquiries, (kc; at all events, I will try to 
 think so, and I know you will try to make it so. But all 
 must depend upon your own feelings of what you are equal 
 to, and how you can manage. 
 
 If it would but help to shorten my stay here in England, 
 I would say " come at once," that I may the sooner return 
 with you ; for, in spite of all the kindness and comfort here, 
 the constant sense that I ought to be elsewhere and active, 
 
 VOL. X. 21
 
 322 MEMORIALS OF TUOMAS HOOD. 
 
 makes it like being bed-ridden. You will understand what I 
 mean, for I have every care and comfort under this roof. 
 
 Of course, if you come, you will come here first. I have 
 no notion when you will arrive. My dinner is coming, so I 
 have only time to say, God bless you all ! 
 
 I bore the sight of Lake House very well till passing the 
 front and looking up at that bed- room window ; * the recol- 
 lection of so much misery suffered there came over me like a 
 cloud. It is all doing up smart. How beautiful it looked 
 over the Chigwell Hills ; but a great deal of timber is cut 
 down in the Park, and the church stands out bold and ugly. 
 
 Pray, if you do come, be particular about the children. I 
 shall long to get back again. God bless you all ! Kind 
 regards to the Major. I am glad my news got first. I 
 suppose it will be in the next "Athenseum." 
 
 Stratford, 2Uh April, 1840. 
 
 In consequence of this last letter, my mother left Ostend 
 at once, and proceeded to London, going on to the house of 
 their kind friends the Elliots; whence the letter, from which 
 the following is an extract, was written to Mr. Dilke by my 
 father. 
 
 Stratford. 
 " Jane has been busy in a mercantile way — a perfect Tim 
 Linkinwater in petticoats : I have been as useless as Mother 
 
 * It was at Lake House, during the alarming illness of my mother, soon 
 after my birth, that the first blow was struck at my father's prosperity. 
 No wonder the sight of the house was the origin of sad recollections. I 
 remember, on a later occasion, when we all went a pic-nic on the Forest 
 with the Elliots, that my father spent a long time by himself silently 
 looking at the old place. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. - 323, 
 
 Nickleby in trousers. I have been very low ; but how can 
 one have any animal spirits without animal food 1 Of course 
 I have not fattened, except that some calomel flew to my 
 face and gave it something of the shape of William the 
 Fourth's. I am become a Pythagorean, not only in my diet, 
 but my feelings, and wonder how anyone can eat meat. For 
 instance, Jane has just lunched on a piece of cold beast. I 
 therefore beg leave to thank you all the same for your wish 
 for me at your dinner on Monday, but I don't eat bullock or 
 hog. Not but that some ladies, and even delicate ones, 
 make a ' Long Lane ' of their ' red ' ones — that is to say, a 
 thoroughfare for the cattle out of Smith field. But though I 
 am not exactly in Paradise, my feeding is more consistent 
 with that of our innocent first parents. Then, for drink, I 
 taste the pure rill, and not the juice of squashed grapes^ 
 that Germans have danced in up to their hocks. In short, 
 I have left off being carnivorous, and am nice as to my 
 liquids." 
 
 The following extract from a letter of my mother's to 
 Mr. Franck, will best explain the reasons that existed fox 
 their leaving Ostend, and settling eventually in England : — 
 
 Camberwkll, August IBtJi, 1840. 
 
 " Immediately on settling in our new lodgings at Ostende 
 
 Hood had to set to work on his Rhine book, which was tc 
 
 have come out directly; but his health was a sad hindrance 
 
 to his endeavours. At this time he began to see but toe 
 
 plainly that he was not done justice to by B . * * * « 
 
 Of course this was a most painful business, and worried him 
 much. In October I was obliged to come to London, for 
 Hood "was busy writing, for Wright was very ill — indeed 
 dying (he did die before my return to Ostend), and he had
 
 324 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 hitherto acted for Hood. On my return in the beginning of 
 November, I found Hood very much altered, from a severe 
 attack he had during my absence; and from this time he 
 went on, one illness after another, till January, when he came 
 to London to get his accounts. He was five weeks at Dilke's, 
 and then, with much trouble, he returned with only a part. 
 ' Up the Rhine ' had come out before Christmas, and the 
 first edition of 1500 went off in a fortnight. 
 
 "Added to other evils, bad air, and damp house, all this 
 told lamentably on poor Hood's already bad health. The 
 doctors there evidently did not understand or know what to 
 do. Hood wrote a statement to our friend Dr. Elliot, who 
 directly wrote back to ask him to come and stay with them ; 
 adding, that they had just moved into a larger house, and 
 could accommodate us, our children, and servant, very well, 
 and should be very glad to see us. In the beginning of 
 August, Hood left Ostende alone to go there, as we could 
 not directly leave the place, having engaged om* lodgings for 
 a year. He stayed a week at Dilke's; but, feeling an attack 
 coming on, set off to Dr. Elliot's, where he was on the first 
 night seized with a very bad attack of spitting blood. The 
 Doctor was up till two in the morning with him; and 
 finding that the hemorrhage did not abate the next day, 
 took blood from the arm till he fainted. This, the Doctor 
 afterwards told me, was a very dangerous attack. Finding 
 he was very ill, I got extremely anxious to be with him, and 
 wrote off to beg he would let me come. At last he con- 
 sented; aiid, at a few hours' notice, leaving the dear children 
 in care of our friend here, I set off to London in the middle 
 of May. Our friends the Elliots welcomed me most kindly, 
 and I found that Hood had been so carefully and tenderly
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 325 
 
 nursed by them, that my coming could add but little to his 
 comforts. Indeed, they have been, and are, the most invalu- 
 able friends. On my arrival in town, I had to do my best in 
 business matters, which Hood was too ill to do. * * * * 
 Hood has been forced to enter actions for his own books; 
 and by doing this, the sale of the second edition of ' Up the 
 Rhine' is ruined just at the season, all being locked up till 
 the actions come on in November. * * * * j)j.. Elliot 
 gave his opinion that Hood would never be so well as in 
 England, so we made up our minds to come and reside here 
 again ; but having much to arrange, we could not return for 
 the children till about a month ago, which you, who know 
 us, will suppose we gladly did, having been longer absent 
 from them than we had ever been before. I confess I am 
 very glad to be settled once again in my native land, and 
 Hood is better too. Dr. Elliot has a brother near us here, 
 also a medical man, clever in his profession, and a nice, 
 friendly, sensible man. He takes much interest in Hood's 
 health, which is certainly improved under his care. Hood 
 is working very hard now, as all his anticipated means are 
 locked up for the present. He is now engaged to publish 
 with Mr. Colburn, and is writing articles in the ' New 
 Monthly Magazine,' which are then to be collected in a 
 volume. It has been gratifying to him to see the way in 
 which all the public journals have welcomed his appearance 
 there; and if it please God to grant him health, he will go 
 on well here, far better than abroad. He needs English 
 comforts, though I must tell you that he has not tasted 
 beer, wine, or spirits, for six or seven months, and for three 
 months never tasted meat. I believe the strictness, with 
 which he attended to Dr. Elliot's advice in this, has saved 
 his life — the complaint had got a-head so very much in that 
 bad climate.
 
 326 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 " Hood has -written two articles on fishing in the new 
 ' Sporting Magazine,' in which he has introduced some hints 
 from your letters about those new fish you have described : 
 indeed he places his fisherman on the banks of your Brom- 
 berg river. He will send them when he has an oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 * * * * » 
 
 " Tim, says he, — Hasn't the English mail been overdue at 
 Bromberg 1 But I couldn't help it. I have worked harder 
 than a horse, for lie does nothing with his head but eat and 
 drink. I shall be all right now, health and everything. I 
 have made a capital arrangement with Colburn. But I shall 
 suffer from that Flemish climate for years." 
 
 The last paragraph is an interpolation of my father's. It 
 will be seen that they had now settled at Camberwell, not 
 far from the Green. 
 
 Camberwell, Nov. 19, 1840. 
 My dear Doctor, 
 
 We were very much disappointed at not seeing 
 you on Monday, but could easily divine the cause; some- 
 thing akin to what keeps us from Stratford — except that 
 your time is essential to the lives of others, and mine to my 
 own living. We have, however, been seriously intending to 
 come over : for I felt sure you woiild be pleased to find me 
 so much improved physically, if not morally, in spite of 
 adverse circumstances — the long run of wet weather for one. 
 I only mention hard work — which, like virtue, brings its 
 own reward — as something besides, that my health has to 
 get over — and then the season of the year — and yet it seems 
 steadily to improve ! Your brother appears to have hit 
 upon some medicine very congenial, if it be not that the
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 327 
 
 very sight of liim does me good (the ouly doubt I have of 
 your medical sldll), for an "Elliot" has always been one 
 of the best exhibitors to a heart out of order. I will not 
 enter on details, which probably your brother has given; 
 but to me there appears to be a decided change for the 
 better. And in return for the general interest you take in 
 me, you deserve to know that matters are looking up — there 
 is, and will be, a struggle of course ; but from every quarter 
 they say that I am writing better than ever, and I get 
 on very comfortably with Colburn. Perhaps you saw my 
 
 skirmish with B in the Athenaeum; the exposure of 
 
 my private affairs was on his part malicious, but being 
 falsely given, has only ended in his own discomfiture and 
 dishonour. He could not answer my charges, and did not, 
 which people will understand. The final settlement of this 
 affair is all that is necessarj'- to clear up ray mental weather. 
 For the rest, I may suffer with what is called society, 
 because, like many others, I do not pretend to be a rich 
 man ; but as I never sought the herd, they are welcome to 
 shun m^!, as they did the bankrupt stag in the Forest of 
 Amiens. After all, " As you like it," is the great secret, and 
 I like it w^ell enough as it is. 
 
 N.B. I mean to come to Stratford for all this moralising; 
 and as all my complaints have a periodical character, most 
 probably between this " New Monthly " and a new " New 
 Monthly;" or from the 24th of this to the 1st of next 
 month. But you had better prepare Willy for my coming 
 in a common-place way, not so melodramatically as when 
 I seemed to have been committing suicide with your assist- 
 ance.* 
 
 * He was ushered in to see my father, during the bleeding spoken of in 
 the letter dated April the ISth.— T. H.
 
 328 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 If I were such a centaur as George is, I would oftener 
 mount myself and trot over to see him ; but Willy is much 
 more of a locomotive than I am ! What a frisky engine he 
 would be on the Eastern Counties railway ! 
 
 Dunnie and Jeanie will have grown like two cucumbers 
 into q\iite another species, and May into a May-pole. Give 
 my love to them all: my own "population" are very well, 
 and now having filled my half I give up the pen to Jane, 
 that she may write to Mrs. Elliot, to whom please to give 
 my kindest remembrances, and say that, having taken again 
 to meat, I am more stoutly than ever 
 
 Yours and hers very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Owing to the confused and imsatisfactory state of his 
 accounts, and the undeserved shipwreck of " Up the Rhine," 
 which ought to have paid well, my father's affairs were in 
 anything but a flourishing condition. He had reasonably 
 calculated that a work, on which he had bestowed the labour 
 of so many painful hours, would have retrieved his expenses, 
 and enabled him to go on easily enough. Instead of this, his 
 health had been still further reduced by a dangerous illness 
 aggravated by anxiety and mental toil ; and a tedious law- 
 suit for the fruits of his hardly earned labours (as he truly 
 observed often "attested, literally, with his blood") was 
 commenced, fated to drag on its attendant care and harass 
 to the end of his short life, and then remain unfinished. 
 With all this, and with a weakened body, which, owing to 
 the peciiliar character of his disease, he dared not recruit 
 with ordinary stimulants, he was then obliged to write hard, 
 and, during the intervals of pain and languor, to procure 
 the necessary means of existence. On his departure from
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 329 
 
 Ostend, the only copyright he ever parted with, that of 
 " Tylney Hall," he sold to Mr. Bentley, and the proceeds 
 enabled him to bring over his family and settle in England. 
 He then engaged to write periodically for Mr. Colbum in 
 the " New Monthly Magazine," at that time edited by Theo- 
 dore Hook. In this periodical he wrote a series of *' Rhymes 
 for the Times," and his famous poem of " Miss Kilmansegg." 
 This remarkable production was written under all these 
 adverse circumstances, in his modest, almost humble, 
 lodgings at Camberwell, appearing part after part. A little 
 of the gold, scattered so richly through it, converted into 
 real coinage of the realm, might have prolonged his life, and 
 would at any rate have alleviated the incessant wear of his 
 mental powei-s. The only wonder is that mind and body 
 held out so long as they did. And yet, though never 
 through his life, even in the smallest meaning of the term, a 
 rich man, never was there a more liberal hand or heart 
 than his. He practised to the full that charity, of which he 
 recognised the beauty in these touching words : " How kind 
 are the poor to the poor ! What are the best of our gifts, 
 the parings of our superfluities, or even the * Royal and 
 Noble Benefaction' written up in letters of gold, to the 
 generous donations of the humbler Samaritans, who having 
 so little themselves are yet so willing to share it with those 
 who have less 1 As I have read somewhere, ' The Charity 
 which Plenty spares to Poverty, is human and earthly; but 
 it becomes divine and heavenly when Poverty gives to 
 Want ! ' " 
 
 Surely that was a feeling beyond mere common charity, 
 which induced him to assist from his scanty store, so pre- 
 carious, and so hardly, and painfully earned, many w^ho 
 applied to him for help : — a help that was readily given by 
 his generous heart, open to sorrow and pain, under any
 
 330 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 shape, or of whatever kind, not ostentatiously, for none but 
 my mother knew of it. It is only by mere chance perhaps, 
 that years afterwards, I have discovered traces of kindly 
 deeds, and timely help to those in sorrow or want ; shillings 
 often given, when shillings were scarce, and always, at least, 
 kind and sympathising words. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 1841. 
 
 Camberwell — Letter to Dr. and Mrs. Elliot — "Eugene Aram" ti-anslated 
 into German — A Copy sent to His Royal Highness the Prince Consort 
 with a Letter — Letter to Lieutenant De Franck — First Appearance of 
 "Punch"— Call of a "Pious" Lady— " My Tract "—Mrs. Hood to 
 Mrs. Elliot— Letters on the subject of the "New Monthly" — He is 
 appointed Editor on the Death of Theodore Hook. 
 
 Ii^ the December of 1840, and the January of 1841, my 
 father was far from idle, and far from well, as will be seen 
 from the ensuing letter. At this time he changed his 
 lodgings. 
 
 2, Union Row, High Street, Camberwell, 
 Feh. 1, 1841. 
 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 I am able at last to sit down to write a few lines 
 and report progress. For, at last, I have killed her, instead 
 of her killing me; not my wife, but Miss Kilmansegg, who 
 died very hard, for I found it difficult to get into the tone 
 and story again after two months' interruption. 
 
 I am pretty well again, and, as a proof, walked to town 
 and back yesterday with Tom and Fanny, but feel to-day as
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 331 
 
 if I had for the second time been learning to walk, which 
 had become a strange exercise to me. But I liope to put 
 myself on my feet if this weather should continue. Now 
 for news. 
 
 You will be gratified to hear that, without any knowledge 
 of it on my part, the Literary Fund (the members of the 
 Committee having frequently inquired about my health, and 
 
 the B business of Dilke), unanimously voted me £50, 
 
 the largest sum they give, and, setting aside their standing 
 rules, to do it without my application. I, however, returned 
 it (though it would have aiForded me some ease and relief), 
 but for many and well-weighed reasons. 
 
 I am, however, all the better for the offer, which places 
 me in a good position. It was done in a very gratifying and 
 honourable manner, and I am the first who has said " no." 
 But I am in good spirits, and hope to get through all my 
 troubles as independently as heretofore. 
 
 We have much more comfortable lodgings, and the buses 
 pass the door constantly, being in the high-road 50 or 100 
 yards townward of the Red Cap, at the Green. I have a 
 room to myself, which will be worth X20 a-year to me, — for 
 a little disconcerts my nerves. 
 
 Jane, if not literary, is littery, — in the midst of two years' 
 " Times," and " Chronicles," and sixty volumes of " New 
 Monthlys," cutting out extracts towards a book of Colburn's. 
 Pray otfer this as her excuse for not writing to Airs. E. 
 We all send our loves to you all. If the weather lasts, I 
 shall hope to come over some day to see whether Duunie 
 and Jeanie have learned to cry yet. Jane is not over well 
 (if there be such a state), for she has had a great deal of 
 fatigue lately, the moving being in a hurry. The rest well 
 or weller. Jane will have some small adventures to tell 
 Mrs. Elliot when they meet. I shall only say that one was
 
 332 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 at a Court of Requests, and the other at the Houpe of Cor- 
 rection. God bless you all. 
 
 From, dear Doctor, 
 
 Yours ever, A^ery truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 You must have thought me very ungrateful (which 
 indeed I am not), that I have been silent, and not long ere 
 this written to thank you for your kindness. 
 
 The filter, &lc., has arrived safe, and we are very much 
 obliged. Hood says he never thought what a small house 
 we are living in till the filter came, — it would not filter 
 through the house, and was as difficult to place as the family 
 picture in the Vicar of Wakefield. It will be a great com- 
 fort to Hood, he says, because he is too thin to drink thick 
 water. We looked for you very eagerly on Monday, and 
 though you were prevented from coming, we had the pleasure 
 of enjoying the good and kind intention. You will be glad 
 to read Hood's favourable account of his health. He is 
 certainly much better in spite of all his drawbacks.* But 
 he and I could not agree to be well together. I have been 
 almost an invaUd, and last Sunday took ill, and went to bed 
 ■with an idea that I was going to keep it, but I am now much 
 better. I hope you are all quite well. Give my love to the 
 dear children, and with the same to you and the Doctor, 
 
 Believe me, ever and ever. 
 
 Yours aff'ectionately, 
 
 Jane Hood. 
 
 * A note is here inserted by my father — " Does she mean blisters ? I 
 have not liad any on ! Jane is not very well. I suspect from an antidote 
 she has taken against the Chinese * poisoned tea.' " — T. H.
 
 MEMOrJALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 833 
 
 While residing at this latest residence in Camberwell, my 
 father received a parcel from his old friend, Mr. de Franck, 
 containing two copies of a German translation of his poem of 
 " Eugene Aram's Dream " into German. Mr. de Franck had 
 rendered the poem into German prose, and Herr von Riihe 
 had versified it, both as literally as was possible. It was 
 published in Bromberg in 1841. 
 
 My father was very much pleased with this proof of the 
 appreciation of his works among the really cultivated Ger- 
 mans. I have said there were two copies of the works 
 enclosed, one by special request accompanied by a letter 
 from Herr Riihe, was sent by my father, to His Royal High- 
 ness Prince Albert, with a letter, the copy of which was 
 found among his papers. 
 
 May it please Your Royal Highness, 
 
 The greatest literary honour that can befal a poem 
 is its translation into a foreign language, particularly the 
 German. That such a distinction had been conferred on 
 any verses of mine has only just been made known to me 
 by the receipt of a volume from Bromberg, with a request to 
 me, to forward the copy, which accompanies this, to its high 
 destination. 
 
 Under other circumstances I should have shrunk from 
 such an intrusion ; but being thus unexpectedly brought 
 under your Princely notice, let me crave permission to offer 
 the respectful homage and loyal congratulations of the Eng- 
 lish author of " Eugene Aram." 
 
 I have the honour to be, itc, 
 
 TuoMAS Hood.
 
 334 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Cambkrwell, Sureet, April 13, 1841. 
 " Tim," says lie, " I thought you had hung up your hat," 
 says he, and in fact / have nearly done so, once or twice, on 
 the everlasting peg ! 
 
 Long as it may seem to you, dear Franck, since I have 
 written, the time has been short enough for all I have had 
 to do in it. I do not remember ever having so many events 
 crammed into the same space. Between law, literature, and 
 ilhiess, I have been living in such a hurry that, often and 
 often, for repose of body and mind, I have wished myself 
 fishing again, with the other " chubby " fellow, on the banks 
 of the quiet Lahn ; so I have thought of you, Johnny, if I 
 have not thrown a line at you, for which I have always 
 wanted either leisure, or health, or spirits, for it were un- 
 gracious to write merrily for the public, and vent the blue 
 devils on my private letters. Moreover, I have had so little 
 of pleasant to communicate; but I will waste no more time, 
 or space, on explanations. We really have not time to play 
 at cribbage ; and Jane, I suspect, has quite forgotten how to 
 " take her three." I suppose she told you of the serious 
 attack I had at Stratford ; since then I have had two attacks, 
 one a bad one, for I lost altogether about fifteen ounces: 
 indeed I feel sure another month in Belgium would have 
 done for me. 
 
 Ostend and the sea-air are healthy enough in summer 
 but the rest of the year it is an unwholesome place, espe- 
 cially in the spring. The easterly winds, which then prevail, 
 bring the malaria from Walcheren, and the Dutch swamps. 
 It is ascertained that if you have once been affected by 
 malaria, it will give an agueish and intermitting character 
 to your future complaints. Of this I am a living instance,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 335. 
 
 for I have regular bad days (Tuesday and Friday), with an 
 extreme sympathy with wet weather, when I give hke an old 
 salt basket; this pleasant tendency I shall most likely enjoy 
 for the rest of my days. 
 
 But the English air has so braced the fibres, that the 
 blood-spitting now stops at once ; whereas in Belgium it kept 
 returning every second or third day. But mine is a compli- 
 cated case, and there is affection of the heart. Luckily I am 
 excellently off for advice, as Dr. Elliot's brother, who is also 
 a physician, resides within a quarter of a mile, and visits me 
 two or three times a week to watch the case ; if not cured, I 
 think the progress of the disease is stopped. Camberwell is 
 the best air I could have. 
 
 Oh ! Johnny, after all my Utopian dx-inking schemes of 
 London porter, and sherry, I have not drunk a glass of wine 
 for twelve months, and as for porter, have been disapwiied of 
 even a pint of England's entire ! ! ! not even a glass of small 
 single X, vulgarly called "swipes." Y or four months I never 
 tasted animal food ! Zounds ! as I used to say on cattle days, 
 one thing would now make my misfortunes complete — to 
 be tossed by an ungrateful beast of a bullock ! 
 
 But I have now returned to beef and mutton, and how 
 delicious they are here ! What a taste of the fresh green 
 English pasture ! None of your German " bif sticks," with 
 no more gravy in them than walking sticks, but real rump- 
 steaks out of Smithfield oxen, that have never ploughed or 
 dragged a cart, (don't you call it the speise cart ?) juicy as 
 the herbage, and done to a turn on the gridii'on by " neat- 
 handed Phillis." Jane and I are just going to have one for 
 supper on purpose to tantalise you; can't you fancy it in 
 your land of fried saddleflaps 1 You would like a bit, I guess, 
 even after the old lady, (you remember the old lady and the bit 
 of brawn,) but I won't set you against your apple soup and
 
 336 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 goose sausages ; so no more about English suppers, or all the 
 
 other good things in tljis land of untrussed plum puddings. 
 
 Glad am I to be back in it ! For your sake I will not regret 
 
 Germany, but I do bitterly repent having staid so long in 
 
 Belgium ; it was a serious loss of time, health, and money. 
 • *   * * 
 
 I am now engaged to write some " Rhymes for the Times," 
 and then think of a two volume novel. Afterwards, if I get 
 strong enough, I shall begin a new series of the " Comic 
 Annual." I have never been able to send you my book 
 called " Up the Rhine;" it has been reprinted in English at 
 Leipsic, and is sold on the Rhine, I understand ; some day I 
 must send you a box. I suppose " to Hamburgh " will be 
 the best way. My literary reception on my return has been 
 very gratifying. They say I am as well as — or better than 
 — ever. 
 
 By-the-bye, I made one or two articles out of your sporting 
 information, especially the Pirsch Wageniug, and had the 
 drawings engraved. You shall have them also. Didn't you 
 enjoy Pickwick 1 It is so very English ! I felt sure you 
 would. Boz is a very good fellow, and he and I are very 
 good friends. 
 
 So much for literary news, and now for domestic. My 
 health requiring me to live very quietly, and regularly, we 
 are no gayer than at Coblenz. But then for the soberness 
 indoors what a bustle without ! London was always a place 
 pre-eminent for business, to which is now added bussiness. 
 BuLS (plural buses) is the short for omnibus, which is any- 
 tliing but a short stage, for it carries twelve inside and four 
 out. We live on the high road, — fancy some fifty of these 
 vehicles running backwards and forwards all day long. The 
 same in the other suburbs. A bus goes as fast, Tim, as ten 
 droskys, and will take you three or four miles for sixpence,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 337 
 
 which is cheaper riding than at Berlin. To be sure, omni- 
 buses, I suspect, kill horses, but the droskys kill time! 
 Everything in England goes at a pace unknown abroad : I 
 think even the clocks and watches ! The very butchers 
 seem riding trotting matches against time. When I first 
 came to England I thought everybody's horse was running 
 away. But there is a vast increase of smoking shops since I 
 left, and that may eventually make us slower. Well, it may 
 be a cockney taste, but I like Lunnon where everything is to 
 be had for money, and money is to he made, which gives it some 
 advantage over even cheap places. Besides living quietly as 
 we do, positively we do not spend more than we did abroad, 
 where some things are cheaper, but others are dearer than in 
 England. And then the tax (universally levied on the English) 
 brings the countries to a par. The English I think are find- 
 ing it out. I have tried to open their eyes. As to myself, 
 I scarcely go to town above once a month — we are about three 
 miles from St. Paul's, so that it is a walk for the children, 
 and then we bus back, after a stroll to look at the shops, 
 which are as good as an Exhibition. Very rarely I dine out 
 — they dine too late for me at seven, and a cold ride through 
 night air lays me up for a month. I am grown, Tim, quite 
 an old man, and an invalid for good, and am as thin as two 
 Wildeganses, Jane is thinner, and not so strong, but is not 
 like me a teetotaller. "Dam my blood," as I say to the 
 doctor, when I want it stopped — I wonder where it all comes 
 from ! I seem to be like those little red worms they bait 
 with for gudgeon, with only blood and skin. And for all 
 my temperance nobody gives me a medal. One hot evening 
 last summer as I walked home I could have murdered an 
 old fish- woman who stood drinking a pot of porter out of the 
 cool pewter ! why couldn't she drink it in the tap-room, or at 
 the bar, out of my sight ] I fully expect next dog-days to 
 VOL, X. 22
 
 338 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 have the Hydrophobia. But enough of myself. Have you 
 heard yet in your remote out-of-the-way parts of the 
 Daguerreotype 1 How I wish by some such process I could 
 get a picture of us all — the family group just as we are 
 — to send you, then you would have me quite as ill-looking 
 as my portrait, and dressed for warmth in a pea jacket and 
 blue trousers (my Ostend boat-costume). Jane as usual, but 
 
 / ^J^^^. 
 
 IjinU^ TT^plTr^a. nee. 
 
 looking rather less puzzled than when she had to contend 
 with foreign money and German cookeiy. Don't you per- 
 ceive it 1 Fanny tall and fair, Tom tall and dark, a good 
 deal like a squirrel without a tail. He has fagged very hard 
 at his books with his Ma till he can master the fairy work of 
 " Midsummer's Night's Dream," and is particularly delighted 
 with Bottom the weaver. It's very funny to hear him read-
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 839 
 
 ing to himself, and laughing. Having some dim notion of 
 mythology, he stopped short in the middle of a frisk to ask 
 " Is there a god of romps 1 " Fanny is very literary too, 
 so that I have two critics, of ten, and six years of age. I 
 have been writing to prove that the rum and tobacco that 
 Robinson Crusoe drank for his ague would have poisoned 
 him, -whereupon Tom told me that if I killed Robinson 
 Crusoe, he wouldn't praise my works ! The other day he 
 talked of a lady in Italics (hysterics), and at cards called 
 out, "now, we must make a puddle!" {i.e. a pool). He 
 and Fanny are full of odds and ends, fairy tales, and plays, 
 and travels, and in their games it all comes working out like 
 beer from a barrel. We are all going to the play on Saturday 
 and shall have, I expect, plenty of after-pieces in consequence. 
 Tom knows something of Scripture too, for we have a figure 
 of Joan of Arc, and he says she is the wife of Noah of Ark. 
 
 As to the books, in the beginning, I thought that you had 
 perhaps drawn up a manual of Infantry manoeuvres, then 
 that the Princes at Antonin had edited some work on hunt- 
 ing, or fishing, and next that your father had composed some 
 rules for the management of large families. Jane would 
 have it that you had written a play for the Bromberg 
 theatricals, and Fanny guessed that you had written a novel, 
 something like Charlotte and Werter. In short, we supposed 
 a dozen different works from as many authors, even going so 
 far as to imagine that Wildegans had been putting into 
 verse his " Recollections of the Rhine." Even the sight of 
 the book did not set me right, for I exclaimed, " Oh ! 
 
 Colonel G 's book," but " I thought a lie." And now 
 
 how can I express my delight at knowing the whole truth 1 
 Jane says I looked as if I was turned to red and white with 
 pleasure ! I am sure she turned from red and white to all 
 red, and looked as happy as if I had been transported in-
 
 340 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 stead of translated. But the next moment I was hon-ified, 
 for I saw your name " Von Franck," as one of the transla- 
 tors ! No fear had I on account of my friend Mr. Riihe, 
 his habits qualified him for the work, but " odds triggers, 
 and blades !" (as Bob Acres says) a Lieutenant of the 19th 
 Infauterie regiment ! Oh ! Jane ! (here I fairly groaned to 
 think of it,) Oh ! Jane ! We know from Dr. Weitershausen's 
 book what sort of work a P7-ussia7i soldier will make of 
 poetry ! Zounds ! he will put Eugene Aram into " parade 
 breeches." Yes, he will make him march up and down (see 
 verse 7) " rechtsum und linlsum," the bludgeon will be the 
 stick of a heerpaul; and the booty regularly packed in the 
 tornistor. Confound him ! it will be no more like Eugene 
 Aram than Coramis-brod to muffins and crumpets, — all 
 Brown Tommy and Brown Bess ! I actually cried dry, for I 
 was too shocked to shed tears at the picture. 
 
 But this comes, said I, of your young whiskered Sword- 
 Blades that sigh so for war, and because it is peace, and no 
 other butchery stirring, they must go and murder Eugene 
 Aram, as well as Daniel Clarke ! For he knows, the Blut 
 Egel, that in spite of all his swagger and curling his mous^ 
 tachios, there is not going to be any ^^ Krieg" except, 
 perhaps, between the New Zealanders and the Esquimaux. 
 And sure enough when 1 looked into the German version, in 
 the veiy beginning, I found the game of cricket turned into 
 Ball Spiel; which I suppose means playing with bullets or 
 cannon balls, or as we call it, Ball-Practice. If I had under- 
 stood German, that confounded military verse would have 
 deprived me of all courage to read further ; but luckily I 
 recollected Mr. Riihe, who would make the matter more fit 
 to be read by cmYised people. He had not been educating 
 his ear for rhythm and musical verses by manufactoriug 
 and proving muskets, carbines, and blunderbusses. A
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 341 
 
 " Neisse " way of getting a nice ear for harmony ! He is not 
 a man of blood (as the Quakers call soldiers) and will not 
 make every verse like a " hlut-wiirst," as if it had been written 
 in East India, namely at Barrack--^ove. He, Mr. liiihe, will 
 know better than to make Eugene Aram a blue and red 
 usher at the military school in Berlin, just because Von 
 Franck was drilled there, and, wliat is better, he will make 
 the repentant murderer read his Bible instead of his " Scharn- 
 horst," or "Aster on Fortifications." He will model the 
 verse on something more musical and varied than that ever- 
 lasting Rub-a-dub-dub below the walls of Ehrenbreitstein. 
 In short, thank Heaven, Mr. Riihe will translate, and not 
 recruit me into the German service, and leave me to be 
 tried by a jury of critics instead of a court-martial ! Such 
 were my misgivings when I saw your name in the muster- 
 roll (I beg your pardon, the title page), though Jane, from 
 her dealings with French money in Belgium, thought at first 
 it was the price of the book in francs. When I explained it, 
 she literally screamed with surprise, and exclaimed, " What, 
 Franck turned literary ! Then take my word for it. Hood, 
 he has married Bettine the authoress," And she was as 
 frightened as I was for Eugene Aram, though for a different 
 cause, namely your extravagant passion for fishing, " Franck 
 must be very much changed," she said, alluding to the first 
 verse, " if he leave you one of the ' troutlets in the pool.' " 
 And in point of fact, on referring to your German, you do 
 make them jump here and there as if, at least, you had 
 Iwoked them. Lord knows what you have made of my 
 "Calm and Cool Evening," but I suppose instead of one 
 solitary beetle as in " Gray's Elegy," there is a whole flight 
 of cockchafers, because they are such good baits for chub. Of 
 one thing I can judge, for I have measured with a straw, 
 and some of the lines are rather long, as if you had thrown
 
 342 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 them as far as you could. Moreover, I asked Fanny, who is 
 the best German scholar in the family, to give me an account 
 of the thing, and she said, that Eugene Aram "played" with 
 the old man before he killed him, and then struck tdl he 
 broke his top-joint. That when the body was full of gentles 
 it was thrown into the stream for ground-bait, but imfortu- 
 nately the water dried up, and so the body was put into a 
 heap of bran, and the wind blew away the bran, &c. But I 
 cannot depend enough on Fanny's acquaintance with the 
 German language to feel sure of such a translation ; perhaps 
 it may not turn out quite so fishy as she represents. Mind, 
 however, that should it not prove to be full of ram-rod and 
 fishing-rod I shall attribute that merit to your coadjutor, for 
 even Tom asked when he heard that you had been trans- 
 lating it, " Did Mr. Franck do it with his sword, and his 
 schako, and his moustaches on 1" (as if the last ever took 
 off" !) I am quite convinced that he thought you were doing 
 some exercise. Tom inquired too, why your version had not 
 the pictures, and I told him it would not suit your way of 
 telling the story. But a truce to banter, I v/ill now be 
 serious at turning over a new leaf : seriously then, dear 
 Franck, I feel sure that your part in the business has been a 
 *' labour of love ;" and I could not but be pleased to see our 
 two names, as Winifred Jenkins says, under the same 
 " Hver." The highest literary honour that a poem can re- 
 ceive is its translation into a foreign language, particularly 
 the German, You may therefore, estimate how much I feel 
 myself indebted, as an author, to Mr. Riihe. Of the close- 
 ness of his version I can judge, but the beauty of it I must 
 unfortunately only relish through the testimony of yourself 
 and others. Yet it is a droll fact, Tim, that I understand 
 twice as much German as I did in Germany; perhaps what 
 I cropped there, has become digested after rumination, as
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 343 
 
 the cows become more intimate with the cud. Howerver, 
 the fact is plain. 
 
 I have always felt it as a reproach that I, a literary man, 
 had not mastered that literary language ; but such an illness 
 as mine dissolves more than it resolves — it even impairs my 
 memory, and particularly as to names, dates, and techni- 
 calities, in which I am at times a perfect " Wild-goose." 
 Still there is another point on which I am able to speak — 
 the "getting up," as we call it, of your little work; and 
 really, as to typography and papei', it seemed the very best 
 specimen of the German press that I have met with. The 
 binding, too, has been much admired, and especially pleased 
 me by a sort of outlandish look, that made me feel, at a 
 glance at the outside merely, that I was translated. To-day 
 being Good Friday, and therefore the postal arrangements 
 more early, will not allow me the pleasure of writing to Mr. 
 Rtihe, which I shall do next week. In the meantime, I 
 will keep shaking the friendly hand, which he extends to me 
 so handsoraelj, and drink his good health in the strongest 
 beverage that is allowed to Tea Hood. Pray tell him this 
 from me, and that I really rejoice in the accession of such a 
 member to the Freimdschaft. 
 
 By the bye, I will send you here a joke I lately made on 
 Prince Albert's breaking in through the ice when skating, Her 
 Majesty pulling him out again with her own royal hands: — • 
 
 ON A RECENT IMMERSION. 
 
 " Long life and hard frosts to the fortunate Prince, 
 
 And for many a skating may Providence spare him ; 
 !For surely his accident served to convince 
 
 That the Queen dearly loved, tho' the ice couldn't bear him. " 
 
 " Tim, says he," I shall set about getting your fishing 
 tackle or making you up a box, vid Hamburg; but you
 
 344 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 cannot have the tackle by the time you propose, for look 
 you, to-day is the 9th (your precious almanack says the 
 90th, and I suppose with your regiment it is the 19th). As 
 to the two last " Comics," Tim, you have had them, for there 
 have been none since. " Up the Rhine " was in lieu of one 
 of them, and there has been no other. I shall be most 
 happy to send my face and the " Eugene " in English for 
 Mr. Riihe, and some other trifles besides ; but there will be 
 
 some delay; for, thanks to that B (would he were tried 
 
 at Bailey Senior, as we genteelly call the Old Bailey !), every- 
 thing is locked up at law, even my mock countenance. He 
 has almost un-Christianised me, for at times I have been on 
 the point of cursing him in the terms of the awful curse of 
 Ernulphus — for which you must consult Tristram Shandy. 
 
 Amongst other things, you shall have the Pirsch Wagening 
 article, and two piscatory dialogues — one on the Netze, and 
 the other on the Brake — which I made out of your letters, 
 and have really sketched the places very like the originals, 
 considering that I have never been there ! As all English 
 reading will be welcome, you shall also have my New Monthly 
 Magazines; but N.B. with my articles cut out for reprinting; 
 which you will get some day in a volume. Jane is horrified 
 at my sending out " Up the Rhine ; " she says it contains so 
 many quizzes on the Germans. But, as you know, I quiz by 
 preference my best friends, and it is in favour of the Ger- 
 mans that they can afi'ord to be quizzed. It may seem a 
 paradox, but only respectable people are quizzable; nobody 
 dreams of quizzing good-for-nothings and blackguards : and 
 if " age commands respect " (you remember your copy-book), 
 BO it commands quizzing. Nothing is more common thfui to 
 hear of an Old Quiz — generally a very respectable elderly 
 gentleman or gentlewoman, but something eccentric. Long 
 life to you, Tim, and when you are sixty, look out for a good
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 345 
 
 share of quizzing ! I shan't be ahve to do it, but I '11 be- 
 queath you, Tim, as a good subject to some first-rate hand 
 iu the line. 
 
 This reminds me to wonder what you are going to be put 
 out of the army for, for that is the way that we in England 
 interpret the threat of a young officer's retirement. Have 
 you been di-inking Moselle out of a black bottle, like Captain 
 Reynolds of the 11th Hussars? Jane thinks the 19th have 
 been ordered to shave off their mosquitoes (she means 
 moustachios), and you won't submit to it ; and Fanny 
 supposes you are weary of wearing a " cap " without " tain " 
 to it. For my part, I can only guess at militaiy feelings, 
 and should think it would be very disagreeable to leave the 
 army without having killed anybody ; indeed, I think it is a 
 reflection very likely to lead to suicide, or killing yourself 
 A civilian, indeed, would point with great satisfaction to a 
 sword that had never hurt man, woman, or child, since it 
 became a blade ; but a warrior's sentiment, I presume, 
 must be the very reverse — more in the style of Korner. 
 Mind, I'm not wanting you to go and kill anybody, that I 
 may write another poem about murder, but only speculating 
 philosophically on the different feelings of civilians and 
 uncivilians. 
 
 Apropos of fighting, are you not sorry, Tim, to find that 
 the knife has come so much more into vogue among our lower 
 ordei'S : there seems to have been a sort of vulgar chivalry 
 about pugilism, after all, when a man struck another fairly, 
 as the Irishman said, " with nothing in his hand but his 
 fist." But I suppose all sorts of fighting are coming in, for 
 Quakerism is clearly going out. Few of the second genera- 
 tion in Quakers' families are friends. You had the great 
 Mrs. Fry at Berlin. Well ! none of the junior Frys are 
 Quakers. There is a great deal of humbug about them —
 
 346 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 one fact is admitted, by a very clever writer of their own 
 body, that they are particularly worldly — a money-getting 
 and money-loving people. I rather think if the law would 
 allow them to refuse taxes, to serve in the army, &c., &c.^ 
 ■we should have plenty of Quakers, I have lately been 
 quizzing them a little, and am at open war, as I have been 
 ■with all canters, here called saints, and there is an unusual 
 quantity current of pious cant or religious bigotry. 
 
 The Tories got up in England, for party purposes, fana- 
 ticism against the Catholics, and a cry of "the Church in 
 danger " ; now, what is called " High Church of Eng- 
 landism," the higher it is carried, the nearer it approaches 
 to Popery. I predicted the result, that it would end in 
 making a sort of Pope of the archbishop of Canterbury, and. 
 now there is actually a schism in the High Church party at 
 Tory Oxford, a Popish-Protestant section writing in favour 
 of celibacy, images, &c., &c. But we have no fear of your 
 turning a Protestant monk. Perhaps, when Amanda comes 
 to Bromberg, you will get by degrees (of comparison), to 
 think that Miss Besser is Miss Best, and if you once think 
 that, you are safe from Puseyism, i.e. celibacy. Pray give 
 my love to her, if we were nearer I might choose another 
 word, but at this distance, even her Mamma could not 
 object to the affection, — Jane don't ! And now, in spite of 
 her remonstrances, I must tell you what happened last 
 night, after I had -written most of this letter. I was looking 
 out of the window, at nearly dark, when a female figure 
 stepped out of a coach, ran about six yards like a crab, i.e., 
 sideways, and then fell flat, what the wrestlers call a fair 
 back-fall. If you have ever seen any mosaic, you can fancy 
 a figure inlaid, as it were, in a dark ground. 
 
 It was Jane just returned from her mother's. You will 
 be glad to hear that her fall was broken by an inch or two
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 347 
 
 of Camberwell Road mud, after a providential sho-wer of 
 lain. I suppose it was the same feeling tliat induced Eve 
 to make poor Adam as begrimed as herself, but the moment 
 I appeared, Jane threw hei-self into my arms, and took care 
 to make me quite as dirty. She was not hurt, though 
 shaken. As she came home in the dark, so as not to see 
 the steps of the coach, I pronounced the usual verdict, — but 
 perhaps you have not heard of that story — an inquest on 
 the body of a woman, who had been killed by her husband. 
 She was a notorious cat, and when the coroner asked the 
 jury for the verdict, the foreman gave it in these words, 
 " Sarved her right ! " 
 
 And now, Tim, hoiv's your mother? I must be thinking of 
 shutting up this letter, donH you wish you may get it, but I 
 must ask you before I close has your mother sold her mangle ? 
 which I suppose will puzzle you and no mistake ! * 
 
 I shall lose the post if I do not stop at once, so God bless 
 you Johnny, alias Tim ; what suspicious characters we should 
 be for the Old Bailey with so many names. 
 
 The horn is blowing, and the eil wagen is going out of 
 the yard, and my stomach is full of parsnips, hot-cross-buns, 
 salt fish and egg-sauce, but my heart tells me that I am. 
 
 Dear Franck, 
 
 Your loving friend, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 It was some time early in this year that my father made 
 acquaintance with tlie first number of " Punch." He walked 
 
 * I have no doubt that, whether with the maternal cognizance or no, 
 poor Franck was considerably "out" in his endeavours to make head or 
 tail of this paragraph, into which my father has purposely imported all the 
 slang sayings in vogue at tue time. — T. H.
 
 348 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 out with me one fine Saturday evening till we came nearly 
 to Walworth. It was getting rather dusk, so that the shops 
 were beginning to light up. On one side of the street a 
 man was standing by a little table, with a Chartist petition 
 lying on it for signature, to which he was drawing the 
 attention of the passers-by. He accosted my father, to his 
 no small amusement, but as a rough-looking mob were 
 gathering round, and it was getting late, he would not stop. 
 We accordingly stepped aside into a little bookseller's shop, 
 till the crowd had abated, or passed on. My father turned 
 over the papers and periodicals lying on the counter, and 
 struck by the quaint little black cuts, picked up the first 
 number of " Punch," hereafter to be so famous. It was 
 then, I believe, in different hands, and my father was 
 no little astonished to see his own name paraded in it, in 
 the coolest manner possible, without his having even known 
 of the existence of such a periodical.* 
 
 During his residence at Camberwell, a lady called on my 
 father, who had been acquainted with him many years 
 before. He had no very agreeable recollections of her, 
 chiefly owing to having been annoyed by her unasked 
 obtrusion of her religious opinions upon him. Her call, 
 therefore, was not productive of any very friendly mauifesta- 
 
 * Not very long after this, it pa.ssed into the hands of my father's old 
 friends, Messrs. Bradbury and Evans, and he really became an occasional 
 contributor. Through it he became acquainted with many of its stafiF. 
 With Mr. Leech I believe he was already acquainted, and also ■nith Mr. 
 Kenny Meadows. In the number here alluded to — the first — my father's 
 name appeared on the second page, in large capitals, in an announcement, 
 whereby "Mr. T. Hood, Professor of Punmanship, begs to acquaint the 
 dull and witless, that he has established a class for the acquirement of an 
 elegant and ready style of punning." The whole thing is in bad taste — 
 indeed it is rather hard to discover whether it is not intended as a squib 
 against my father, the advertisement ending thus — " *^* A good latu/her 
 wanted J "—T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 849 
 
 tion on his part, and after sitting stiflaj, and being replied 
 to rather coldly and ceremoniously, she took her leave. 
 The same week, however, she wrote him a most unjustifiable 
 attack on his writings and religious opinions. She enquired 
 with a kind of grim satisfaction what good his " Whims 
 and Oddities " would do his soul 1 and how he would recall 
 his levities in literature upon his death-bed 1 My father 
 was pretty Avell used to attacks of this sort, but this 
 was really going a little too far, and accordingly she received 
 a copy of the following, which he ever after entitled " My 
 Tract." 
 
 It is well woi'thy of separate publication with the " Ode 
 to Rae Wilson," in any collection of " Really Religious 
 Reading." 
 
 MY TRACT. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 I have received your pious billet-doux, but have 
 little leisure, and less inclination for a religious flirtation, 
 and what (according to our Law and Police Reports) is its 
 usual issue — a decidedly serious intrigue. How else, indeed, 
 am I to interpret the mysterious "object " of your late visit, 
 which you significantly tell me, was defeated by your being 
 unintentionally accompanied by a friend ? — how answer for 
 her designs on a man's person, who can take such liberties 
 with his soul 1 The presence of a companion could not of 
 course stand in the way of your giving me a tract or a letter 
 or anything proper for a modest woman to offer ; but where 
 can be the womanly modesty, or delicacy, or decency of a 
 female, who intrudes on a man's private house, and private 
 con-espondence, and his most private affairs, those of his 
 heart and soul, with as much masculine assurance as if she 
 wore Paul Pry's inexpressibles under her petticoats 1 Perhaps 
 I have to congratulate myself, as Joseph Andrews did on the
 
 350 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 preservation of his virtue from that amorous widow, Lady 
 Booby! But whatever impropriety you intended to commit 
 has been providentially frustrated, it appears, by the intru- 
 sion of the young lady in question, to whom, therefore, I 
 beg you will present my most grateful and special thanks. 
 I am as you know a married man, and do not care to forget 
 that character, only tliat I may be able to say afterwards, as 
 you suggest, "/ have gone astray, but now I have learned 
 thy righteous law." 
 
 The cool calculations you have indulged in on my desperate 
 health, probable decease, and death-bed perturbations must 
 have afforded you much Christian amusement, as your 
 ignorance must have derived infinite comfort from your 
 conviction of the inutility of literature, and all intellectual 
 pursuits. And eveu your regrets over the "Whims and 
 Oddities, that have made thousands laugh " may be alle- 
 viated, if you will only reflect that Fanaticism has caused 
 millions to shed blood, as well as tears ; a tolerable set-off 
 against my levities. For my own part, I thank God, I have 
 used the talents He has bestowed on me in so cheerful a 
 spirit, and not abused them by writing the profane stuff 
 called pious poetry, nor spiritualised my prose by stringing 
 together Scriptural phrases, which have become the mere 
 slang of a religious swell mob. Such impieties and blas- 
 phemies I leave to the Evangelical and Elect; to the 
 sacrilegious quacks, who pound up equal parts of Bible and 
 Babble, and convert wholesome food, by their nauseous 
 handling, into filthiest physic ; to the Canters, who profane 
 all holy names and things by their application to common 
 and vulgar uses ; and to the presumptuous women, who I 
 verily believe with the Turks, have no souls of their own to 
 mend, and therefore set themselves to patch and cobble the 
 souls of the other gender.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS nOOD. 351 
 
 It is, I know, the policy of your faction to decry literature, 
 which they abhor as the Devil hates Gospel. And for a 
 similar reason. For all the most celebrated authors, the 
 wisest, and most learned in the ways of mankind, Scott, 
 Fielding, Smollett, Sterne, Crabbe, Addison, Butler, Pope, 
 Moore, Burns, Byron, Moliere, Voltaire, Boileau, and a host 
 of others, have concurred in denouncing, and exposing 
 Tartuflfes, Maw-worms, Cantwells, Puritans, in short sancti- 
 monious folly and knavery of every description. Such 
 writers I know would be called scoffers and infidels ; but a 
 Divine Hand, incapable of injustice, has drawn a full length 
 picture of a self-righteous Pharisee ; and Holy Lips, prone 
 to all gentleness and charity, have addressed Their sharpest 
 rebukes to Spiritual Pride and Religious Hypocrisy. Are 
 the sacrilegious animals aware that in their retaliations they 
 ai'e kicking even at Him ? 
 
 In behalf of our literature I will boldly say that to our 
 lay authors it is mainly owing, that the country is not at 
 this hour enthralled by Priestcraft, Superstition, and, if you 
 please, Popery, which by the bye, has met with more 
 efficient opponents in Dante, Boccaccio, and Rabelais (profane 
 writers, madam), than in all the M'Neils, M'Ghees, and 
 Macaws, that have screamed within Exeter Hall. 
 
 As for literature " palling on my soul in my dying hour," 
 — on the contrary it has been my solace and comfoit 
 through the extremes of worldly trouble and sickness, and 
 has maintained me in a cheerfulness, a perfect sunshine of 
 the mind, seldom seen on the faces of the most prosperous 
 and healthy of your sect, who, considering that they are as 
 sure of going to Heaven as the " poor Indian's dog," are 
 certainly more melancholy dogs than they ought to be ! 
 But what else can come of chanting " pious chansons " with 
 hell-fire burthens, that to my taste, fit them particularly for
 
 352 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 contributions to the Devil's Album 1 Some such verses you 
 have sent me, and I could return you othei's quite as re- 
 ligious — but unfortunately written by a minister, who, 
 after being expelled in disgrace from a public foundation 
 in London, went and robbed a Poor Savings Bank in the 
 country. 
 
 Such literature may indeed appal the soul at the hour of 
 death, and such an author may justly dread an Eternal 
 Review. Again, therefore, I thank God that ray pen has 
 not been devoted to such serious compositions, that I have 
 never proftmed His Holy Name with common-place jingles, 
 or passed off the inspirations of presumption, vanity, or 
 hypocrisy, for devout effusions. My humble works have 
 flowetl from my heart, as well as my head, and, whatever 
 their errors, are such as I have been able to contemplate 
 with composure, when, more than once, the Destroyer 
 assiimed almost a visible presence. For I have stood several 
 times in that serious extremity both by land and sea— yet, 
 for all my near approaches to the other world, I have never 
 pretended to catch glimpses of its heaven, or of its hell, or 
 to have had intimations of who, among my neighbours, were 
 on the road to one place or the other. Such special revela- 
 tions are reserved, it seems, by a Wisdom, certainly inscru- 
 table, for the worst or weakest of the weaker sex, such 
 
 cackling hen-prophetesses as its S s, its G s, and 
 
 its L s. 
 
 And verily if they be the Righteous, I am content to be 
 the Lefteous of the species. 
 
 It has pleased you to picture me occasionally in such 
 extremities as those just alluded to, — and, no doubt, with 
 regret that you could not, Saint-like, beset my couch, to try 
 spiritual experiments on my soul, and enjoy its excruciations, 
 as certain brutal anatomists have gloated on the last agonies
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 353 
 
 ol mutilated dogs and rabbits. But we will now turn, if 
 }'ou please, from my death-bed to your own— supposing you 
 to be lying there at that awful crisis, which reveals the 
 depravity of the human heart as distinctly as the mortality 
 of the human frame. And now, on that terrible, narrow 
 isthmus between the past and the future, just imagine your- 
 self appealing to your conscience for answers to siich solemn 
 questions as follow. And first, whether your extreme de- 
 votion has been affected or sincere, — unobtrusive or osten- 
 tatious, — humble to your Creator, but arrogant to His 
 creatures, — in short, Piety or Mag-piety? Whether your 
 professed love for your species has been active and fruitful, 
 or only that flatulent charity, which evaporates upwai'ds in 
 wind, and catechises the hungry, and preaches to the naked 1 
 And finally, how far, in meddling with the spiritual concerns 
 of your neighbours, you have neglected your own ; and, con- 
 sequently, what you may have to dread from that Hell and 
 its fires, which you have so often amused yourself with 
 letting off at a poor Sinner, — just as a boy would squib a 
 Guy? These are queries important to your "eternal 
 destiny," which ought to be considered in time ; whereas, 
 from the tenor of your letter, it appears to me that you 
 have never entertained them for a moment, and I am sorry 
 to add that, judging from the same evidence, whatever may 
 be your acquaintance with the letter of the New Testament, 
 of its spirit you are as deplorably ignorant as the blindest 
 heathen Hottentot, for whose enlightenment you perhaps 
 subscribe a few Missionary pence. 
 
 I implore you to spend a few years, say twenty, in this 
 self-scrutiny, which may be wholesomely varied by the exer- 
 cise of a little active benevolence ; not, however, in sending 
 tracts instead of baby-linen to poor lying-in sisters, or in 
 
 volunteering pork chops for distressed Jews, or in recom- 
 voL. X. 23
 
 854 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 mending a Solemn Fast to the Spitalfields weavers, or iu 
 coddling and pampering a pulpit favourite, but in converting 
 rags to raiment, and empty stomachs to full ones, and in 
 belping the wretched and indigent to " keep their souls and 
 jodies together!" 
 
 And, should you ever relapse and feel tempted to write 
 religious Swing letters, such as you have sent to me, let 
 me recommend to you a quotation from a great and wise 
 writer. It runs thus, — " I find you are 'perfectly qualified 
 to make converts, and so, go, help your mother to make the 
 gooseberry pie." 
 
 Still if you will and must indite such epistles, pray ad- 
 dress them elsewhere. There are plenty of young single 
 " men about town " (and of the very sort such saints are 
 partial to — namely, " precious " sinners) who no doubt 
 would be willing to discuss with you their " experiences," 
 and to embrace jou and your persuasion together. But on 
 me your pains would be wasted. I am not to be converted 
 except from Christianity, by arrogance, insolence, and igno- 
 rance, enough, as Mrs. Jarley says, "to make one turn 
 atheist." Indeed the only effect of your letter has been to 
 inspire me, like old Tony Weller, with a profound horror 
 of widows, whether amorous or pious, for both seem 
 equally resolute that a man shall not " call his soul his 
 own." 
 
 And now. Madam, farewell. Your mode of recalling 
 yourself to my memory reminds me that your fanatical 
 mother insulted mine in the last days of her life (which was 
 marked by every Christian virtue) by the presentation of a 
 Tract addi-essed to Infidels. I remember also that the same 
 heartless woman intruded herself, with less reverence than a 
 Mohawk Squaw would have exhibited, on the chamber of 
 death; and interrupted witli her jargon almost my vety
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOB. 355 
 
 last interview with my dying parent. Such reminiscences 
 warrant some severity. 
 
 I am, Madam, 
 
 Yours with disgust, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 In the August of 1841* Mr. Theodoi-e Hook died, and 
 Mr. Colburn sent to ask my father to replace him. This 
 intelligence was speedily communicated to the Elliots by a 
 joint letter. 
 
 August 31, 1841. 
 Dear Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 Mr, Colburn's Mr. S has been here to offer 
 
 Hood the editorship of the " New Monthly" ! There's good 
 news. I have scarcely wits to write to you; but you, our 
 kindest and best friends in adversity, must be the first to 
 rejoice with us at better prospects. Perhaps you may not 
 have heard of Mr. Theodore Hook's death, which happened a 
 week ago. We have had some anxiety whether Mr. Colburn, 
 with the disadvantages of Hood's having been of late unable 
 to do anything for the Magazine, would consider him com- 
 petent. I have thought of it night and day, and truly 
 thankful am I to God for the blessing. I cannot settle my 
 thoughts to write, for the messenger of good has only just 
 left, and I am in what the servants call a " mizzy maze." 
 Hood, with all the proper dignity of his sex, is more calm 
 
 * I may mention, apropos of Mr. Hook's name, that, in "The New 
 Spirit of the Age," published by Mr. Home in 1844, that gentleman by a 
 mistake of a single letter gave to Mr. Hood the pages descriptive of Mr. 
 Hooi. My father was no little amused to discover that he was a ' ' diner- 
 out and a man about town," and that he had given the world "unfavour- 
 able views of human nature." Mr. Home afterwards corrected the error, 
 and wrote to my father in explanation. — T. H.
 
 356 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 and sedate upon the subject; and begs, as all is not yet 
 settled that you will not mention it to any one. 
 Love to you alL 
 
 Your ever affectionate 
 
 Jane Hood. 
 
 Mt dear Friexds, 
 
 It was ordy a semi-official visit of S 's. Still a 
 
 veiy good chance — perhaps having spitten so much blood 
 away, I am not quite so sanguine as Jane, Time will show. 
 Seriously it would be comfort at last, and, I think, go far to 
 cure me of some of my ailments. Should I get appointed, be 
 sure the editor will come and show himself at Stratford to 
 receive your congratulations. God bless you all ; kisses for 
 all my little dear friends, and love to the big boys. 
 
 Yours most truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 S^t. 2, 1841. 
 My dear Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 All is settled, and Hood is to be the editor of the 
 "New Monthly!" We were, until this morning, on "tenter 
 
 hooks," and so it seems was S , who understood he was 
 
 to hear from Hood when he had made up his mind, but not 
 hearing, came over to know why. I saw Mr. Dilke yester- 
 day, who could not tell us what Hook had. So Hood has 
 accepted it on the understanding he is to receive the same 
 
 as he did. S , in an awkward way, said he knew he 
 
 might say 200Z. ; but he saw by his manner that it had been 
 more. So Hood stuck to his test of the same as Mr. Hook, 
 and of course it will be so, for I see they are eager to have 
 him, and Mr. Dilke says that Hood's name will be a good 
 card for them.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 367 
 
 The prospect of a certainty makes ma feel " passing rich." 
 Poverty has come so very near of late, that, in the words of 
 Moore's song, " Hope grew sick, as the witch drew nigh." I 
 know how delighted you will both feel that it is now a cer- 
 tainty. Hood was poorly yesterday, but it was the delay and 
 uncertainty : to-day he is pretty well, and getting on with 
 his writing. He says you may now suppose the Magazine 
 on his lap : and really thinks, considering the circumstances, 
 that he ought to be allowed his porter. As a beginning, 
 Dr. Robert has promised him a spicy article * on Mustard 
 
 and Pepper, and Miss B a political essay on Russian 
 
 Influence over British Infants. 
 
 This is a most disgi-aceful letter for the wife of an editor, 
 I must say; but you must make allowance for me — I am in 
 a dream, and my sentences and my expressions have all the 
 obscurity of that twilight state. 
 
 Hood and the children unite in love to you all. Kisses 
 for the dear little " shining faces" that go to school. God 
 bless you all. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Jane Hood. 
 
 Monday Evening, Sept. 17, 1841. 
 Dear Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 This very evening it is settled that Hood is to be 
 
 the editor at 300Z. a year, independent of any articles he 
 
 may write, which are to be paid for as usual. Since we saw 
 
 you, we have had much anxiety about it, as there has been 
 
 great delay, Mr. Colburn being at Hastings, and wishing 
 
 * The name of a favourite thoroughbred Dandie Dinraont terrier belonging 
 to Dr. R. Elliot. Miss B. was British-bom, but reared in Russia. Her 
 sister was married, and had, at that time, one baby, to which Miss B. 
 performed the part of the most affectionate of aunts, and the most inde- 
 fatigable of nurses. — T. H.
 
 358 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 to get him to take 200^. However, it is now quite settled, 
 and we look forward with cheerful and thankful hearts. 
 Hood continues very well for him, and threatens you very 
 soon with an onslaught. Dr. Robert was to have driven him 
 over, but happens to have a lady patient in the way, and 
 declines killing her to suit that purpose. Hood has been so 
 much better lately, that he has been able to write both for 
 his volume and for the magazine, which is lucky, as the 
 month is so far gone. Of course he is anxious to make his 
 first appearance as editor with eclat. One great advantage is, 
 it will give him a certain standing. There have been a great 
 many applications for it, and it is pleasant he did not 
 apply. Hood begs me to say you must expect an alteration 
 in him, as, like other editors, he must be very mysterious 
 and diplomatic. 
 
 I hope, in the leisure of the early part of next month, that 
 we shall be able to give our children the treat of coming; to 
 see you and yours. They look forward eagerly to it, and 
 send their love, in which Hood and myself unite. It's so 
 dusk, I can hardly see to finish; but in all, or any, lights, or 
 shadows, 
 
 Believe me ever, dearest Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Jane Hood. 
 
 At the end of this year my father removed from Camber- 
 well, and took lodgings in Elm-Tree Road, St. John's Wood, 
 overlooking Lord's cricket-ground.* 
 
 * After his removal to St. John's Wood, my father used to have little 
 modest dinners now and then, to which his intimate friends were invited. 
 Though the boards did not groan, sides used to ache, and if the champagne 
 did not flow in streams, the wit sparkled to make up for it. Quiet at large 
 parties, at these little meetings my father gave full rein to his fun, and
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 359 
 
 many will sigh over this note when they think of the merry dinners they 
 used to have. On one occasion, to my mother's horror, the boy fell up- 
 stairs with the plum-pudding. The accident formed a i)eg for many jokes, 
 amongst others, a declaration that the pudding, which he said was a Stair, 
 not a Cabinet one, had disagreed with him, and that he felt the pattern of 
 the stair-carpet breaking out all over him. At these times, too, he would 
 often set every one laughing by his apt misquotations of Latin, none of 
 which can be now remembered unfortunately, for he had a rare facility for 
 twisting the classics. We "kin" were allowed to share in the fun of 
 
 these meetings, and can remember Mr. 
 
 sitting with his handkerchief 
 
 across his knees, crying, chuckling, and laughing, until the fear of having 
 a coroner's inquest in the house, and a verdict of " Unjustifiable Gomicide," 
 made my father stop and give his victim time to recover. — T. H.
 
 360 MEMORIALS OF TEOMAS HOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 1842. 
 
 Removal to St. John's Wood — Elm Tree Road — Letter to Lieut. De Franci 
 — Mrs. Hood to Lieut. De Franck — Letters to Dr. and Mrs. Elliot, 
 Mr. Charles Dickens, and Lieut. De Franck — Continued illness. 
 
 The beginning of this year the King of Prussia visited 
 England, and it was almost expected by my father that Mr. 
 Franck would accompany him. But it was not to be, and in 
 consequence my father wrote the following letter to his old 
 friend, who was now stationed at Hamburg. 
 
 Febriuiry 20, 1842. 
 Tim says he, 
 
 Yon can't be a Jew or you wouldn't live in Ham. 
 
 I made cock-sure of you when you did not answer our last 
 letter, that you were coming with the king; why didn't you? 
 I think it will make me disloyal to Frederick that he didn't 
 bring you. 
 
 However write soon, and I will send to you what has long 
 been made up, and let me know what tackle you want. I 
 have a " Comic" for you, and for Mr. Riihe, with a letter, 
 and one for Prince Piadziwill, to your care. It has come 
 meanwhile to a second edition. 
 
 As editor of the New Monthly Magazine, I stand higher 
 than ever; there was great competition for it, but I did not 
 apj)ly, and was therefore selected. If yoii can give me any 
 genuine German information at any time, it will be very 
 serviceable, anything new. You will find in the " Comic " 
 your account to me of the stag shooting at Antonin, (fee, the
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 361 
 
 Harrow Story, and so on; so that if you can give me any 
 more sporting, it will be acceptable. I shall be highly 
 honoured by any from Their Highnesses; you will also re- 
 ceive " Up the Rhine," wliich you have perhaps seen already, 
 as it was reprinted at Leipsic. This is such a short month 
 for editors I must not write more. 
 
 I believe, thanks to our dear Dr. Elliot, I have got over 
 the blood-spitting, but England has a capital climate after 
 all, as is proved by the life tables. 
 
 Mind, come and see us, and won't we have some fun? 
 God bless you Tim says. 
 
 Your faithful friend, 
 
 (in great haste), Thos. Hood, E.N.M.M. ! ! ! 
 
 P.S. — There are several very nice young English ladies in 
 this country quite disengaged; I do not know how many 
 exactly, but will answer for five or six. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM MRS. HOOD'S LETTER. 
 
 " We have had a splendid summer, and Hood has been 
 
 out of town a few days at a time, which has been of great 
 
 benefit to his health. He certainly is better (if it will but 
 
 last!) than I have known him for several years, and if there 
 
 was no east wind he would be almost well. But both he 
 
 and Fanny were so possessed with the malaria at Ostend, 
 
 they are most sensitive to east winds, and damp or misty 
 
 weather. Tom and his papa spent a week at Twickenham, 
 
 where the Dilkes have got a cottage for the summer months; 
 
 they fished in the Thames, and came back as brown as 
 
 gypsies. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 "Hood says he supposes that now you're in the 'John
 
 362 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 d'Armerie, in the excess of your new zeal you have appre- 
 hended yourself, or that you have been burned with the rest 
 of the rubbish in the conflagration of Humbug (Hamburg) ; 
 only that he makes sure you would not have gone near 
 enough to the fire to scorch those beautiful moustachios of 
 yours." 
 
 Here follows an interpolation of my father's. 
 
 '■^Hood will copy at the end the direction to be sent on the 
 box. I am pretty well, much the same as Hood, but my wife is 
 not overstrong, neither is Jane, and Mrs. Hood seems to be no 
 better than she is, but I hope she will mend and so does Hood. As 
 to Johnny, he is as well as can be expected, but Hood does not 
 expect he shall ever be very strong again ; so we must all make 
 the best of it, the Editor and all, who seems to sympathise in his 
 ailments tvith me, and Hood and Johnny; but he cannot expect 
 to be better than we are, for he and we have the same complaint, 
 a sort of monthly eruption which we think is better ' out ' than 
 in; my wife, Jane, and Mrs. Hood call it the ^Magazine.' It 
 is a sort of black and white literary rash of a periodical 
 nature, chiefly affecting the head ; as yet none of the children 
 have caught it." 
 
 "What a rigmarole Hood has written during my absence 
 but you are used to his tricks." 
 
 The following letter was written by my mother to Franck. 
 The words in brackets were written in by my father over 
 the words, which precede them in print, and were intended 
 to mean that they were clear copies of my mother's writ- 
 ins, to enable Franck to come at the sense of her com- 
 munication.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 363 
 
 17, ELM TREE ROAD, 
 
 ST. JOHN'S WOOD, 
 
 REGENT'S PARK, 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 [Jane don't write plain — so mind my version. — T. H. 
 
 Mt dear Franck, 
 
 We quite wonder at not hearing from you. I 
 wrote to you at Ham (Hum), very soon after we were 
 settled here, and begged (bagged) you to let us know the 
 source (sauce) for sending you the " Comic," (chronic) also 
 to inquire what fishing (flirting) tackle you wished to have, 
 or if the needles (noodles) would be too late. I repeat all 
 this in case (cake) you may not have received my letter 
 (butter). As you did not write we began to speculate on 
 the chance of your coming (coursing) over with His Majesty, 
 and on the day of his arrival, and for one or two after, we 
 expected you to walk in. Hood even saw a Prussian 
 (Parmesan) cloak (maggot) come down the road (mad) and 
 made (snake) sure you were the man in it. We will not be 
 cut off with a fortnight, remember. Hood bid me say we 
 don't make " happorths " (papporths). We spent a veiy 
 delightful Christmas (mizmaze) at the Elliots, for they are 
 such kind friends and so pleasant, and we had our dear 
 (damd) children with us so that we could not fail to enjoy 
 ourselves ; I hope you spent a merry (muzzy) one too. We 
 have been gay for us lately, going to several dinner parties, 
 one this week at the Elliots, and one next week, a literary 
 dinner, given (queen) by Mr. Colburn. Soon after that he 
 is going to give a large evening party (pasty). We took the 
 children to the theatre to see a pantomime (Jacobin), and 
 they were in ecstacies, though Tom had been to Covent
 
 364 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Garden (gander) before, when he came from Ostend (Astoria) 
 
 to London. 
 
 If I don't lock up my letter in my desk, this is a specimen 
 
 of the way it is commented on, but you know of old how ill 
 
 I am treated in these matters. Mrs. Elliot was saying the 
 
 other day that strangers would think "Jane" a most 
 
 extraordinary person from the odd stories that Hood tells of 
 
 her. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 17, Elm Tree Road, St. John's Wood, May 11, 1842. 
 Tim says he, what a dreadful fire ! The English 
 will sympathise strongly with the Hamburgers, who are 
 their old commercial allies. The city must be a long time 
 in recovering from such a calamity. I sincei-ely hope no 
 friends of yours have suffered. I got all the fishing tackle six 
 wrecks ago; along with it I have sent two glass baits, the last 
 invention and novelty, one of which is for yourself, and the 
 other please to present for me to the Prince. The little 
 leaden caps are to put on the line at the head of the bait, 
 as without the cap the fish would not spin. 
 
 Yesterday a sporting clergyman dined with me, and I was 
 glad to hear him say that he has tried the glass bait, and it 
 is very killing. I also send for yourself an imitation gold 
 fish. It appears that there is something in the colour or 
 taste of the gold fish, that renders it irresistible to other 
 fish, as a bait. They are quite mad after it. It appears to 
 me to be intended to be sunk with a weight, and pulled 
 about under water, or else to float on the top ; but they 
 say it is taken in any way. I send two Comics (one for 
 Mr. Riihe), and the " Up the Rhine " for yourself. If you 
 can easily get me a copy of the German Edition of " Up the 
 Rhine," published at Leipsic, you can bring it when you 
 come. Thank God I seem to have got over my old com-
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 365 
 
 plaint ; but I have suffered much from rheumatism. It 
 has been very general amongst people here, the east wind 
 having blown inveterately for a whole month. I was quite 
 disabled, but luckily I had a whole magazine in print before- 
 hand, what you would call in reserve. I congi'atulate you on 
 your promotion, and the success of your application to the 
 King ; of course you will now marry for want of something 
 to do. And now, Johnny, I must say good bye, for I am 
 crippled with the right arm, as well as right foot. To aggra- 
 vate these evils our drawing room overlooks Lord's Cricket 
 ground, and I see the fellows playing all day, add to which, 
 once or twice a week, a foot race for a wager. But it is of 
 the less importance, that I can only write a short letter as 
 we are to see you this summer. Your best way would be 
 by Hamburg packet direct to London. God bless you, Tim, 
 
 says he, 
 
 Your faithful friend, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 The very taking gold-fish bait, described in the letter was, 
 with the directions for its use, the sole invention of my 
 father. It was carved in two halves, out of deal, and joined 
 with gum, so that after a short immersion one half would 
 detach itself and float away, leaving the other, attached to 
 the line, and inscribed (by an encaustic process, with a hot 
 knitting needle) with the words — " Oh ! you April fool ! " 
 that month being the season when it would probably be 
 first used. 
 
 The result of the hoax was never heard, but it struck my 
 father afterwards that the generous Franck would most 
 likely present the unique bait to one of the Princes ! Many 
 a time did he laugh at the horror Franck would feel, in 
 having been made an accomplice, after the fact, in such a 
 practical joke on Royalty.
 
 366 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 17, Elm Trkb Road, Monday, July 11, 1842. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 Here we are again — the babes in the Wood of St. 
 John — all safe and sound. Jane having successfully "bussed" 
 her children all the way home ; but a little fatigued from 
 getting her " baggage" so far without any " porter. ^^ 
 
 You will be pleased to hear that, in spite of my warnings 
 and forebodings, I got better and betterer, till by dining as 
 the physicians did on turtle soup, white-bait, and champagne, 
 I seemed quite welL But I have always suspected the 
 doctors' practice to be better than their precepts ; and par- 
 ticularly those which turn down Diet Street. The snug one 
 dozen of diners however turned out to be above two (in 
 fact twenty -seven) — two others, Talfourd and Macreadj 
 being prevented. Jerdan was the Vice, and a certain person, 
 act very well adapted to Jill a Chair was to have occupied 
 the opposite Virtue, but on the score of ill-health I begged 
 off, and Captain Marryat presided instead. On his right, 
 Dickens, and Monckton Milnes, the poetical M.P. ; on his 
 left. Sir John Wilson, T. H., and for my left-hand neighbour 
 Doctor Elliotsow, which seemed considerately contrived to 
 break my fall from Stratford. The Kelso man was supported 
 by Foster, and Stanfield the painter. Amongst the rest 
 were Charles and Tom Landseer. Tom two stone deafer 
 than I am, and obliged to carry a tube. Father Prout and 
 Ainsworth ; these two men at paper war, — therefore some 
 six, including a clergyman, were put between them. Proctor, 
 alias Barry Cornwall, and Barham, otherwise Ingoldsby, 
 Cruikshank, and Cattermole, a Dr. Gwynne, or Quin, and a 
 Rev. Mr. Wilde, who greatly interested Dr. Elliotson and 
 myself : a tall, very earnest-looking man, like your doctor, 
 only with none of his Sweet-William colour, but quite pale ;
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 3C7 
 
 and the more so for long jet-black locks, either strange 
 natural hair, or an unnatural wig. He was silent till he 
 sang, and then came out such a powerful bass voice fit for a 
 Cathedral organ — to a song of the olden time, that between 
 physiognomy, costume, vox, and words, the impression was 
 quite black-letterish. I had never seen him before, but 
 seemed to know him traditionally, somewhere about Crom- 
 well's time. Nevertheless some of his reading had been more 
 modern and profane, for when we broke up, he came and shook 
 hands with me, to my pleasant surprise, for I seemed to have as- 
 cended to antiquity, whilst only aiming to descend to posterity. 
 Well, we drank " the Boz" with a delectable clatter, which 
 drew from him a good warm-hearted speech, in which he 
 hinted the great advantage of going to America for the 
 pleasure of coming back again ; and pleasantly described 
 the embarrassing attentions of the Transatlantickers, who 
 made his private house, and private cabin, particularly 
 public. He looked very well, and had a younger brother 
 along with him. He told me that two American prints have 
 attacked me for my copyright letters in the " Athenaeum," 
 so I shall procure them as a treat for "Jane." Then we 
 had more songs. Barham chanted a Robin Hood ballad, 
 and Cruikshank sang a burlesque ballad of Lord Bateixian ; 
 and somebody, unknown to me, gave a capital imitation of a 
 French showman. Then we toasted Mrs. Boz, and the 
 Chairman, and Vice, and the Traditional Priest sang the 
 " Deep deep sea," in his deep deep voice ; and then we 
 drank to Proctor, who wrote the said song ; also Sir J. Wil- 
 son's good health, and Cruikshank's, and Ainsworth's ; ana 
 a Manchester friend of the latter sang a Manchester ditty, 
 so full of trading stuff, that it really seemed to have been 
 not composed, but manufactured. Jerdan, as Jerdanish as 
 usual on such occasions — you know how paradoxically he is
 
 aes MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 quite at home in dining out. As to myself, I had to make 
 ray second maiden speech, for Mr. Monckton Milnes proposed 
 my health in terms my modesty might allow me to repeat to 
 you; but my memory won't. However, I ascribed the toast 
 to my notoriously bad health, and assured them that their 
 wishes had already improved it— that I felt a brisker circula- 
 tion — a more genial warmth about the heart, and explained 
 that a certain trembling of my hand was not from palsy, or 
 my old ague, but an inclination in my hand to shake itself 
 with every one present. Whereupon I had to go through 
 the friendly ceremony with as many of the company as were 
 within reach, besides a few more who came express from the 
 other end of the table. Very gratifying, wasn't it ? Though 
 I cannot go quite so far as Jane, who wants me to have that 
 hand chopped off, bottled, and preserved in spirits. She was 
 sitting up for me, very anxiously, as usual when I go out, 
 because I am so domestic and steady, and was down at the 
 door before I could ring at the gate, to which Boz kindly 
 sent me in his own carriage. Poor girl ! what would she do if 
 she had a wild husband instead of a tame one. 
 
 In coming home Dickens volunteered to bring Mrs. 
 Dickens to see us on Tuesday or Wednesday, but I shall be 
 obliged to put them off till next week, as I shall be at 
 Wantage. So that it seems probable I shall be able to fix 
 them for an evening, and then of course you will come, 
 unless you should happen to be at " Don't Want"-age. 
 
 The children stuffed with happy remembrances of Stratford 
 Le Beau, send their loves wholesale and retail, and as Jane 
 and I can unite in that, we do. 
 
 I am, 
 My dear Mrs. Elliot, 
 Yours and the Doctor's very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. S69 
 
 We hope Dr. Robert will dine with us at the H 's to- 
 morrow. If he does, won't we quiz him about the new 
 carriage, and exhibit a wife, " to be taken," as the medicals 
 say, "in an appropriate vehicle." He ought not to have 
 that great Cupid's hand with a dart in it on his harness for 
 nothing. God bless you all. — T. H. 
 
 17, Elm Tree Road, St. John's Wood, Monday. 
 
 My dear Dickens, 
 
 Only thinking of the pleasure of seeing you again, 
 with Mrs. Dickens, on Tuesday or Wednesday, I never re- 
 membered, till I got home to my wife, who is also my 
 flapper (not a young wild duck, but a Remembrancer of 
 Laputa), that I have been booked to shoot some rabbits — if 
 I can — at Wantage, in Berks. A reverend friend, called 
 " Peter Priggins," will be waiting for me, by appointment, 
 at his railway-station, on Tuesday. But I must and can 
 only be three or four days absent ; after which, the sooner 
 we have the pleasure of seeing you the better for us. 
 
 Mrs. Hood thinks there ought to be a ladies' dinner to 
 Mrs. Dickens. I think she wants to go to Greenwich, seeing 
 how much good it has done me, for I went really ill, and 
 came home well. So that occasionally the diet of Gargantua 
 seems to suit me better than that of Vdnxi^-griiel. Well, — 
 adieu for the present. Live, fatten, prosper, write, and draw 
 the mopuses wholesale through Chapman and Haul. 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 17, Elm Tree Road, Oct. 12. 
 Dear Dickens, 
 
 Can you let me have an early copy of the " Ame- 
 rican Notes," so that I may review it in the " New 
 Monthly ? " Is it really likely to be ready as advertised ] 
 
 VOL. X. n.
 
 370 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I aim this at Devonshire Place, supposing you to be re- 
 turned, for with these winds 'tis no fit time for the coast. 
 But your bones are not so weather unwise (for ignorance is 
 bliss) as mine. I should have asked this by word of mouth 
 in Devonshire Place, but the weather has kept me indoors. 
 It is no fiction that the complaint, derived from Dutch 
 malaria seven years since, is revived by Easterly winds. 
 Otherwise I have been better than usual, and " never say 
 die." Don't forget about the Yankee Notes, I never had 
 but one American friend, and lost him through a good crop of 
 pears. He paid us a visit in England; whereupon in honour 
 of him, a pear tree, which had never borne fruit to speak of 
 within memory of man, was loaded with 90 dozen of brown 
 somethings. Our gardener said they were a keeping sort, 
 and would be good at Christmas ; whereupon, as our Jona- 
 than was on the eve of sailing for the States, we sent him a 
 few dozens to dessert him on the voyage. Some he put at 
 the bottom of a tnuik (he wrote to us) to take to America ; 
 but he could not have been gone above a day or two, when 
 all our pears began to rot ! His would, of course, by sym- 
 pathy, and I presume spoilt his linen or clothes, for I have 
 never heard of him since. Perhaps he thought I had done 
 him on purpose, and for sartin the tree, my accomplice, never 
 bore any more pears, good or bad, after that supernatural 
 crop. 
 
 Pray present my respects for me to Mrs. Dickens. How 
 she must enjoy being at home and discovering her children, 
 after her Columbusing, and only discovering America ! 
 
 I am, my dear Dickens, 
 . Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Do you want a motto for your book ? Coleridge in his 
 I'autisocracy days, used frequently to exclaim in soliloquy,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 371 
 
 " I ■wish I was in A.-me-ri-ca ! " Perhaps you might find 
 something in the advertisements of Oldridge's "Balm of 
 Columbia,'^ or the "American Soothing Syrup'" — query, Gin 
 twist ? 
 
 17, Elm Trek Road, Sr. John's Wood, 
 
 Saturday Evening, Nov. 12, 1842. 
 
 Deab Doctor, 
 
 I have but just heard from Dickens, who has been 
 out of town, I suspect, hunting for a locahty for his next 
 tale. At least, he was twice in the country when I called 
 lately. I am sony to say his interest at the Sanatorium has 
 
 been pre-engaged. It appears to me that Mrs. K has 
 
 come rather late into the field, and Dickens implies that the 
 candidates are very numerous. Here follows his answer : — 
 
 " I can't state in figures (not very well remembering how 
 to get beyond a million) the number of candidates for the 
 Sanatorium matronship, but if you will ask your little boy 
 to trace figures in the beds of your garden, beginning at the 
 front wall, going down to the cricket-ground, coming back to 
 the wall again, and ' carrying over ' to the next door, and 
 will then set a skilful accountant to add up the whole, the 
 product, as the Tutor's Assistants say, will give you the 
 amount required. I have pledged myself (being assured of 
 
 her capability) to support a near relation of Miss E 's ; 
 
 otherwise, I need not say how glad I should have been to 
 forward any wish of yours." 
 
 In the meantime, I have written to Dilke, on the chance 
 that he may know some of the Sanatorium committee ; and 
 Jane is writing to your brother, to know if he has any voice 
 in the new CamberweU Church organ — that is to say, in the 
 commission. Nothing but canvassing — which reminds me 
 of Berlin wool-work, and that recalls Mrs. Elliot. Pray tell 
 her Jane has some new patterns.
 
 S72 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 She commissioned Franck to send her some for slippers, 
 but wrote the word so badly that he asked what new 
 English articles were " dippers." However, the patterns 
 came, at least as far as the front gate, by the parcels-cart, 
 and then went away again for, not living near any shop, we 
 sometimes run quite out of change, and in the whole house 
 could not muster 3s. GcZ. for carriage and duty. However, 
 she has obtained them at last, and I really think her head 
 
 has been M'ooZ-gathering ever since I suppose your 
 
 brother's accident happened during his idleness at Chelten- 
 ham, or was it about the date of the new family vehicle ? 
 When I told Jane of it, she directly said, " I have a great 
 mind to go over and see him about the Camberwell Organ," 
 for which read the Organ of Curiosity ! The 6th was her 
 birthday, and we had a few young friends, and performed 
 two charades, so we are pretty well. 
 
 Give our love to all, including the new Grammar School 
 boy. 
 
 Of course he can tell now what mood " May " is in. 
 Jeauie, I know, is the Potential, 
 
 I am, dear Doctor, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 \^'^ 
 
 iff. 
 
 ^ ^ (Pl4y<} M- ^^^^
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 373 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 1843. 
 
 Elm Tree Road — Letters to Dr. Elliot — Letter to the Secretaries of the 
 Manchester Athenaeum — Letter to Mr. Dickens — Death of Elton and 
 Benefit at the Haymarket for the Family — He writes an Address for 
 it, to be spoken by Mrs. Warner — Letters to Lieut. De Franck and 
 Mr. Dickens — He takes a Trip to Scotland— Letters to his Wife — 
 Dundee and Edinburgh — Letters to Mr. Dickens and Dr. Elliot — "The 
 Song of the Shirt "—"Punch "—"Pauper's Christmas Carol"— 
 Prospectus of " Hood's Magazine and Comic Miscellany." 
 
 17, Elm Tree Road, St. John's Wood, 
 Thursday, April 13, 1843. 
 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 Accept our heartiest congratulations. "We were 
 delighted to see your note, for we were getting very anxious, 
 but did not like to write on that account ; I am not made 
 Laureate, or I would write an ode on the occasion. 
 
 Jane will come as soon as Mrs. Elliot is well enough to see 
 her. She is servant-hunting, so I am obliged to be, what 
 she calls, her " manuensis." 
 
 I did go last night to W ^"s, being in fact, pretty well, 
 
 in spite of the east winds. I have been working hard with 
 pen and pencil, besides some extras on my hands, such as 
 
 Lord L and B . I must not write more, except 
 
 that we all join in love to you all, and Jane says its beau- 
 tiful weather for babbies, only they can't walk out ; and the 
 printers will keep Easter holidays, and the editors can't in 
 consequence. 
 
 What is the title of the new article in your Magazine 1 
 
 If you find him de trop, there is a chance for you in Boy's 
 distribution. Baffles are epidemic. So are monomaniacs.
 
 374 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 The comet is an intermittent. The aerial carriage is flying 
 gout, a lame affair ! The income tax will be chronic : and 
 I am, 
 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 Thursday night, 1843. 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 We did not forget the wedding day, but drank the 
 
 health of the pair, with earnest wishes for their long and 
 
 lasting happiness ; of course they are now in the midst of 
 
 " honey and B's : " Bliss, Brighton, Baths, Billows, and 
 
 Beach. 
 
 I thank you for your congratulations on my gout, but fear 
 it is " no such luck." I am more likely to have the cold 
 agueish rheumatism. I have got rid of the " agony point " 
 of the game, but the progress seems very slow — in accord- 
 ance with other sluggish characteristics, my foot continues 
 swelled, and so tender I can hardly put it to the ground ; 
 I don't believe therefore it can be a long-standing complaint 
 like the gout. 
 
 You do not say how Mrs. Elliot got over her fatigue, so 
 we hope it was not worth mentioning. Give all our loves to 
 all, and pray tell Dunnie and Jeanie they will hear from 
 me as soon as I can write a good foot. 
 
 I am. Dear Doctor, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 The next letter is addressed to Dr. Elliot's eldest son, who 
 was being educated as a civil engineer. My father had sent 
 him a book on the Steam Engine, forwarded to him in his 
 editorial capacity, which was an incapacity, as he says, as far
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 375 
 
 as reviewing it went. The Flying Fly alluded to was an 
 aerial machine, projected (but not far from the earth) by 
 some speculators. The Dover Engineering mentioned was 
 the driving of the railway tunnel through Shakspeare's cliff. 
 
 17, Elm Tree Road, St. John's Wood, April 21, 1843. 
 
 Dear Willie, 
 
 You owe me no thanks, the book is in better hands 
 than mine. I have not the organ of constructiveness, and 
 made sure that by the help of the sledges at the foundry, 
 you would hammer more out of the volume than I could. 
 
 Till lately, such was my ignorance, I thought the Engi- 
 neers were the Fire Brigade. 
 
 And even yet I do not rightly understand what you make, 
 at those factories along the river side, except a noise, enough 
 to render the Thames fishes deaf, as well as dumb. Of what 
 use then could such a book be to me, who have no more 
 notion of engineering than a Zoological monkey of driving 
 piles? I hastily read a few pages, but understood little, 
 except about fastening cross beams with two ties, which 
 being like a counsellor's wig, seemed to me the legal way. 
 The railroad matter was quite beyond my comprehension, 
 especially the necrological mode of laying down sleepers, 
 which T should have thought belonged to medical practice. 
 I hope you have no hand or finger in the construction of the 
 Flying Fly at Blackwall; some people insist, rather incon- 
 sistently, that it wnll never ascend because it is a bubble, 
 but you engineers know best. By the bye, your operations 
 at Dover do the profession great credit, you beat the doctors 
 hollow. Give your father as much Dover's powder as he 
 pleases, and see if he can mine into a gouty foot, and blow 
 out its chalk. I rather think I have au engineer amongst 
 my correspondents. He signs himself Screw-tSitor, constantly
 
 87.6 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 quotes from Dr. Lever, and speaks of carrots and turnips as 
 wedge-ahles. He even dines, I am told, at a French house, 
 that he may ask for a pulli/ instead of a chicken. 
 
 Good night ! I would write more, but I have scienti- 
 fically lighted my candle, and am going mechanically to bed. 
 
 Yours, dear Willie, 
 
 Very truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 Talking of Engineering, it is strange that Brunei never 
 calculated on one great use of the Thames Tunnel, namely, 
 to give the Cockneys at Easter a hole holiday. I forget how 
 many thousands of Londoners had a dry dive under the river. 
 Some day, I predict, the tunnel will become a great water- 
 pipe. And I'm a prophet. 
 
 I foretold, in last month's Magazine, that the Comet would 
 blow up the Waltham Abbey Powder Mills. 
 
 The following letter from my father, was in answer to one 
 from the Secretaries of the Bazaar Committee for the benefit 
 of the Manchester Athenaeum. These gentlemen desired 
 leave to place his name on the list of their patrons. My 
 father's letter was printed and sold at the Bazaar. 
 
 (From my bed.) 
 17, Elm Tree Road, St. John's Wood, July 18, 1843. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 If my humble name can be of the least use for 
 your purpose, it is heartily at your service, with my best 
 wishes for the prosperity of the Manchester Athenaeum, and 
 my warmest approval of the objects of that Institution. 
 
 I have elsewhere recorded my own deep obligations to 
 Literature — that a natural turn for reading, and intellectual
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 377 
 
 pursuits, probably preserved me from the moral shipwreck, 
 so apt to befal those who are deprived in early life of the 
 paternal pilotage. At the very least my books kept me 
 aloof from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the saloons, 
 with their degi-ading orgies. For the closet associate of 
 Pope and Addison, the mind accustomed to the noble, 
 though silent discourse of Shakspeare and Milton, will 
 hardly seek, or put up with low company and slang. The 
 reading animal will not be content with the brutish wallow- 
 ings that satisfy the unlearned pigs of the world. Later 
 experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing 
 that literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow : 
 how powerfully intellectual pursuits can help in keeping the 
 head from crazing, and the heart frcm breaking ; nay, not 
 to be too grave, how generous mental food can even atone 
 for a meagre diet ; rich fare on the paper, for short commons 
 on the cloth. 
 
 Poisoned by the malaria of the Dutch marshes, my 
 stomach for many months resolutely set itself against fish, 
 flesh, or fowl ; my appetite had no more edge than the 
 German knife placed before me. But luckily the mental 
 palate and digestion were still sensible and vigorous; and 
 whilst I passed untasted every dish at the Rhenish table 
 d'hote, I could still enjoy my " Peregrine Pickle," and the 
 Feast after the Manner of the Ancients. There was no 
 yearning towards calf's head a la tortue, or sheep's heart ; 
 but I could still relish Head ck la Brunnen, and the " Heart 
 of Mid-Lothian." Still more recently it was my misfortune, 
 with a tolerable appetite, to be condemned to Lenten fare, 
 like Sancho Panza, by my physician, to a diet, in fact, lower 
 than any prescribed by the Poor-Law Commissioners, all 
 animal food, from a bullock to a rabbit, being strictly inter- 
 dicted, as well as all fluids, stronger than that which lays
 
 378 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 dust, washes pinafores, and waters polyanthus. But the 
 feast of reason and the flow of soul were still mine ! 
 
 Denied beef, I had Bulwer and Cowper; forbidden mutton, 
 there was Lamb ; and, in lieu of pork, the great Bacon, or 
 Hogg. Then as to beverage ; it was hard, doubtless, for a 
 Christian to set his face, like a Turk, against the juice of the 
 grape. But eschewing wine, I had still my Butler, and in 
 the absence of liquor, all the Choice Spirits from Tom 
 Browne to Tom Moore. Thus though confined physically to 
 the drink that drowns kittens, I quafied mentally, not merely 
 the best of our own home-made, but the rich racy, sparkling 
 growths of France and Italy, of Germany and Spain ; the 
 champagne of Moliere, the Monte Pulciauo of Boccaccio, the 
 hock of Schiller, and the sherry of Cervantes. Depressed 
 bodily by the fluid that damps everything, I got intellec- 
 tually elevated with Milton, a little merry with Swift, or 
 rather jolly with Rabelais, whose Pantagruel, by the way, is 
 equal to the best gruel with rum in it. 
 
 So far can Literature palliate, or compensate, for gastrono- 
 mical privations. But there are other evils, great and small, 
 in fhis world, which try the stomach less than the head, the 
 heart, and the temper; bowls that will not roll right, well- 
 laid schemes that will " gang aglee," and ill winds that blow 
 with the pertinacity of the monsoon. Of these Providence 
 has allotted me a full share ; but still, paradoxical as it may 
 sound, my burthen has been greatly lightened by a load of 
 books. The manner of this will be best understood by a 
 feline illustration. Everybody has heard of the two Kil- 
 kenny cats, who devoured each other ; but it is not so gene- 
 rally known, that they left behind them an orphan kitten, 
 which, true to its breed, began to eat iteelf up, till it was 
 diverted from the operation by a mouse. Now the human 
 mind, under vexation, is like that kitten ; for it is apt to
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 379 
 
 jyrey upon itself, unless drawn oflf by a new object, and none 
 better for the purpose than a book. For example, one of 
 Defoe's ; for who in reading his thrilling " History of the 
 Great Plague," would not be reconciled to a few little ones 1 
 Many, many a dreary weary hour have I got over — many 
 a gloomy misgiving postponed — many a mental and bodily 
 annoyance forgotten by help of the tragedies, and comedies, 
 of our dramatists and novelists ! Many a trouble has been 
 soothed by the still small voice of the moral philosopher; 
 many a dragon-like care charmed to sleep by the sweet song 
 of the poet ! For all which I cry incessantly, not aloud, but 
 in my heart, " Thanks and honour to the glorious masters of 
 the pen, and the great inventors of the press ! " Such has 
 been my own experience of the blessing and comfort of 
 Literature, and intellectual pursuits ; and of the same mind, 
 doubtless, was Sir Humphry Davy, who went for " Consola- 
 tions in Travel " not to the inn, or the posting-house, but to 
 his library and his books. 
 
 I am, Gentlemen, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 17, Elm Tree Road, St. John's Wood, Wednesday. 
 Mt dear Dickens, 
 
 Make any use you can of my name, or me, for the 
 purpose you mention. I would add my purse, but unluckily 
 
 just now there is nothing in it, thanks to B . 
 
 Many years ago, when I wrote theatrical critiques for a 
 newspaper, I remember pointing out a physiognomy, which 
 strongly prepossessed me in favour of its owner, as indi- 
 cating superior intelligence. It was that of poor Elton,* 
 
 * My father wrote an address for the performance got up for Elton's 
 cliildren, see Complete Works. — T. H.
 
 380 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 who was then undistinguished amid a group of dramatic 
 nebulae. The name brought hira vividly to my memory, 
 along with the scene of the tragedy which is familiar to me. 
 In fact I once passed in very calm weather between the two 
 Fern Islands, on one of which was a lighthouse, and the man 
 in charge, possibly the father of Grace Darling, waved his 
 hat to us. 
 
 How touching that description in the newspapers of the 
 two children, prattling unconsciously of trifles, whilst the 
 vessel was going down under them ! 
 
 I have been intending to write to, or call on you, but 
 
 besides B v. Hood I have been ill, and in consequence, 
 
 my article for this month is not yet finished. That will be 
 a sufficient excuse with you for my non-attendance to-night 
 at the Freemasons' Tavern. But it is of the less consequence 
 as my feelings being so entirely in unison with yours in this 
 matter, you will be able to speak not only your own, but 
 those of 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 17, Elm Tree Road, August 14, 1843. 
 My dear Johnny, 
 
 What a noise you have made about my silence. Why 
 didn't you write in the interval ? You, you, you, who have 
 half-pay for doing nothing, whereas I am only half paid for 
 doing everything. Besides I have to write, till I am sick of 
 the sight of pen, ink and paper ; but it must be a change to 
 you to scribble a bit after your fishing, shooting, boar-hunt- 
 ing, and the rest of your idle business at Antonin. Besides 
 you know what leisure is, I don't. Why for one half the 
 month I have hardly time to eat, drink, or sleep, to say 
 nothing of twiddling my moustaches, if I had any, or sucking
 
 MEMOlilALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 381 
 
 myself to sleep with a German pipe. How unlike you, who 
 have so much time that you can hardly know how to kill it, 
 you, who however you may wish for war, can lie, sit, or 
 stand, yawn, and snore, in such profound peace, that if you 
 are not all overgrown with duck-weed like a stagnant pond, 
 it's a wonder. 
 
 What indeed ! why couldn't you write to yourself in my 
 name? which would have improved your hand and your 
 mind, and kept your English from getting rusty. For you 
 have no correspondence, you know, like mine, with dozens of 
 poetical ladies, old and young; and prosaic gentlemen : and 
 if you do write articles, the Editors have refused them, for I 
 have never met with any in print. But it all comes from 
 your ignorance, and your living in that calm phlegmatic 
 country, called Germany, where you travel through life in 
 slow coaches, with the wheels locked, and have no notion of the 
 railway pace at which we wear ourselves out here in England, 
 or at least in London, and then go off, Bang, by apoplexy, like 
 dry gunpowder, whilst you die fizzing and whizzing at leisure 
 like " Devils." I don't mean Satans or old Nicks, but the 
 wildfire so called at school, if you can remember so far back, 
 or if you ever " wented " to school, of which your strange 
 grammar sometimes suggests a doubt. Seriously, my dear 
 Johnny, you cannot imagine the hurry I live in, like most of 
 my contemporaries, but aggravated in my case by frequent 
 illness, which makes me get into arrears of business, and 
 then, as the sailors say, I have to work double tides to fetch 
 up my lee-way; or, I might have said, to scratch my figure- 
 head with the cat-harpins by way of splicing the mainbrace, 
 for, you know, you inland lubbers know nothing about ships 
 or nauticals. I could show you a German engraving of a 
 ship with four masts, not set up in the middle, but along the 
 side ; the vessel by way of finish sailing stern foremost, at
 
 382 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 ten knots an hour. Sometimes at the end of the month, I 
 sit up three nights successively, Jane insisting on sitting up 
 with me, so that we see the sun rise now and then, as well as 
 you early birds in Germany. Then we are obliged to visit 
 and be visited, which we shun as much as we can ; but must 
 to some extent go through, as I am a sort of public man. 
 Mind this does not mean keeping a public house, as you may 
 think from the sound, and your oblivion of English. My 
 position therefore entails on me some extra work ; for 
 example this last month I was made a patron of the Man- 
 chester Athenaeum, and wrote for them a long letter on the 
 benefits of literature, which has been printed ; and on the 
 back of that job, a poetical address delivered at the Hay- 
 market theatre, at the benefit for the seven children of an 
 actor, just drowned in the wreck of a steam ship. But of all, 
 the hardest work is writing refusals to literary ladies, who 
 will write poetry, and wonH write it well. I wish you would 
 come and marry a few of them, which would perhaps reduce 
 them to prose. 
 
 Well, besides all these labours, I have had on my hand 
 two law-suits, one at law, and one in equity or Chancery, 
 which will be decided at the end of the year. So you see, 
 Johnny, I have not been silent through idleness. 
 
 In reality, I have begun one or two letters, but could not 
 finish them while they were fresh, besides which we have had 
 dreams of seeing you : so that, one morning, when your king 
 was over here, I did say to myself, " there is Franck ! " for a 
 Gog, about your height, in a Prussian military cloak, actually 
 came down the hill opposite; and, as we do not live in a 
 thoroughfare, we supposed you must be coming to the house. 
 A grave figure that followed I guessed was Mr. Riihe ; but 
 you were not you, and Riihe was not Riihe. As the dra- 
 matist says, " I had thought a lie." Well, I suppose you
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 383 
 
 will come some day, when Jane is a palsied, blind, old 
 woman, and I am in my second childhood, sucking a lolly- 
 pop, and " upwards of ninety." At present, we are only in a 
 ripe middle age ; but she wears best, as you may suppose, 
 when I tell you that, only this spring, we had a party at 
 which she danced ; and what is more, with the Sheriff of 
 London for her partner (whose official duty it is, you know, 
 to supei'intend all " dancing on nothing"), and he said that 
 she danced very lightly, considering that she was not hung. 
 
 So, you see we are alive, if not kicking, which will com- 
 fort you for the present ; in a post or two, you will have 
 a longer and more particular letter : in the meantime, we do 
 not ask for your reasons for not coming, which "ve suppose 
 to be as good as our own for not writing. We give you 
 credit for the best intentions, and shall live in hopes of seeing 
 you long before you are a colonel. 
 
 Fanny is very well, and so is Tom junior, and both send 
 their love to you. My messengers being absent, they are 
 going with great alacrity to carry this to the post, having 
 read your melancholy letter, and being persuaded that you 
 were going into a consumption beyond the cold water cure. 
 
 Jane is gone to town, or she would have had a finger in 
 this ; but she will have a hand in the longer epistle, of which 
 this is the avant courier. But, mind, it will not be quite so 
 big as to come by that heavy after-post-wagen that carries 
 packages instead of packets. In the meantime she sends her 
 love to you. 
 
 I have but a moment more before post time ; and then 
 when I have done, I shall go and take a look out of the 
 drawing-room window at Lord's Ground, where the Eton and 
 Harrow scholars are playing their annual match at cricket ! 
 Does not that sound English to you, old fellow 1 or have you 
 forgotten that thei-e are such things in the world as bats and
 
 384 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 stumps ? I should like to knock your bail off with a ripping 
 ball ! I tried to make a match up the other day, but had 
 two doctors in my eleven, who had so many patients to bowl 
 out that they could not come to the scratch — if you know 
 what that is ! 
 
 I am much flattered by the kind remembrances of the 
 19th. Pray offer my respects to their officers, with my 
 thanks for the honour they have done me in their memories. 
 God bless you ! and 
 
 Believe me, my dear Franck, 
 Yours ever very truly (but rather rheumatically), 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Dundee, Friday morning, Sept. 15, 1843.* 
 
 Here we are safe and sound, red and brown, my 
 own dearest, after an excellent passage ; Tom tolerably sick 
 most of the first day and night, and I too, once ! but am 
 much better for it. I was very much out of sorts when I 
 left, and we had a very rolling swell, added to which, about 
 a steamer there is a smell of oil and smoke mixed, which 
 particularly offends my sense. We saw little, being obliged 
 to go outside of Yarmouth Roads in the night, so that yester- 
 
 * At this time, my father set off, taking me with him, for a short trip 
 to see his relatives in Scotland. My recollections of the visit are tolerably 
 vivid, especially when aided l>y a note-book, in which I took very rough 
 sketches of the scenery. The incident of the mad gentleman I most dis- 
 tinctly remember, and don't expe t to forget while I live. My father waa 
 received with open arms by the Scotch ; and, having a little Scotch blood 
 in him, was not s'ow in meeting their advances. He used at hotels always 
 to go into the public coffee-room, where his genial disposition and courtesy 
 invariably got him a good reception. I dare say there are many still 
 living, who remember that thin, serious-looking gentleman, who often set 
 tbe table "on a roar " by an unexpec'ed turn or a dry remark, and who 
 was so fond of a certain brown-skinned urchin, much given to the devouring 
 of books.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 385 
 
 day morning we were out of sight of land, and only got a 
 distant view of Flamborough Head. 
 
 Luckily there was a whale blowing, to Tom's great delight. 
 We have made a very good passage, arriving here about 
 seven this morning. 
 
 But imagine yesterday, while finishing our dinner, down 
 came into the cabin a gentleman we had never seen before, 
 announcing, " Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know whether 
 you are aware of it, but we are all in imminent danger : the 
 fires are out, and the captain don't know where we are ; the 
 ship is sinking, and you will be at the bottom in a few 
 minutes." At first I was a little alarmed, not hearing what 
 he said, for I had left Tom on deck, who was too squeamish 
 to come below, but thinking, when I heard better, that he was 
 some fool who had got frightened, I went up, brought Tom 
 down, and said with a laugh to the passengers, " then my 
 boy shall go down in good company !" — for some looked 
 scared. Luckily the prophet of ill-luck did not go into the 
 ladies' cabin, where many of them were sick, or we should 
 have had screams and hysterics. It turned out that he was 
 insane. 
 
 I remembered seeing the man rather mysteriously brought 
 on board at Gravesend, and shut into the captain's private 
 cabin on deck. It seems, after a day there, he got violent, 
 and insisted on coming out. All the rest of the evening he 
 did nothing else but go about addressing everybody, and 
 particularly the captain, in a style that shocked weak nerves : 
 — " We are all going (throwing up his hands), you will be 
 all at the bottom in a few minutes, and no one left to tell 
 the tale. She is settling fast forwards ! Captain, captain, 
 do you know where you are 1 Are you aware that the fire is 
 out ] Look, look forward there, she is going down. Good 
 Heavens ! and nobody seems aware of it, (to me,) and j/ou 
 
 VOL. X. 2&
 
 386 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 won't care about it, till you are making a bubble in the 
 water ! Good Heavens ! what day is it, sir ? (to another), 
 Thursday ! no such thing, sir, it is Saturday, but no matter, 
 it is your last day ! And what a destruction of property, 
 this fine vessel and all her cargo ! " 
 
 He harped a good deal on this, for it was said he had lost 
 his own property, the steward meanwhile dogghig him all 
 over the ship, lest he should jump overboard ; but in the 
 sveuing they got him in again, and locked him up, and he is 
 safe landed. 
 
 You may tell T>r. Elliot that he would have charmed a 
 phrenologist, for whenever he was not waving his arms, or 
 holding them up in despair, the fingers of both hands were 
 behind his ears on the organ of destructiveness, i. e. the 
 wreck. This is not a joke, but fact : it was a very remark- 
 able action. 
 
 We have put up, pro temiyore, at an hotel ; we have had 
 
 breakfast and a ramble. I could not find R. M , but 
 
 left my card at the G s : it was so early they were not 
 
 visible. We shall go down by a train to the North Ferry, 
 cross by the boat to the South Ferry, where there is an Inn, 
 at which I shall put up. In the mean time, if you write on 
 the receipt of this, direct " Post Office, Dundee." 
 
 I will let you know directly my plan is formed, how long I 
 shall stay here, or at the Ferry. Tom has been veiy good 
 and happy, and looks a good deal better already ; I feel very 
 much better, and those on board, who remarked my illness, 
 congratulated me on the change, so it must be visible at all 
 events. 
 
 Dundee, at first sight, was much altered in one respect, 
 owing to the march of manufacture. To the east a remark- 
 ably fine crop of tall chimneys had sprung up in lieu of one, 
 — all factories. But I suspect they have been going too
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 387 
 
 fast. The harbour much improved, otherwise much as 
 before ; filthy morning gutters, and plenty of bare legs and 
 feet. Luckily the Post Office is next door, so that you will 
 be sure to get this in good time. The boat was very hand- 
 somely and commodiously fitted up : a number of separate 
 little rooms, in each two beds ; Tom and I had one to our- 
 selves ; it contains window, lamp, washstand, towels, water 
 at will from a cock, in short very different to the "Liver- 
 pool " and the like. And we were all very sociable, so that 
 the time did not seem long. 
 
 I did not go to bed, as I like my head high, and slept 
 both nights on one of the sofas. 
 
 You may now make yourself quite easy about me, I feel 
 that I shall be much better for it ; I sadly wanted a change, 
 and this is a complete one. I have banished all thoughts 
 of bookery, and mean to take my swing of idleness, not 
 always the root of all evil. As soon as I get settled at the 
 Ferry, however, I shall finish the article on Temperance by 
 the help of whiskey toddy, but that need not be put in the 
 paper. 
 
 The weather promises to be fine, in which case we shall 
 spend as much time as possible out of doors. 
 
 I am glad to see Tom looking quite himself again, he is 
 quite a Spaniard already, red and brown. He sends his 
 love to Ma and Fanny, and promises plenty of drawings, 
 for he began on board with his sketch book. God bless you, 
 my own dearest. Do not fail to drink your port wine. 
 Love to dear Tibby. 
 
 Your own ever, 
 
 Thomas Hood.
 
 388 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 September, 184S, 
 My own Dearest, 
 
 I received yours the day before yesterday, having 
 had to send for it to Dundee, On Friday we came here, to 
 the Ferry, and I engaged a bed, but my Aunt would not 
 hear of it, and made me come to her house at once, where 
 we have been ever since. It is a very nice house and garden, 
 and we are made much of, and are very comfortable. Tom 
 is as happy as can be, and they are much taken with him. 
 We are living on the fat of the land. Tom has milk-porridge 
 for breakfast, — "baps," "cookeys," jelly, &c., and I have 
 good ale and whiskey — and both are much the better, — 
 greatly so in looks. I shall go by a steamboat from here 
 to Leith, some day this week, so you must not write again to 
 Dundee, but to the post-office, Edinburgh. 
 
 On Sunday, I went with my aunt to hear her minister, — 
 one of those who have seceded. He preaches in a large 
 school-room, but at the same time through a window into 
 a large tent adjoining; a temporary accommodation, whilst 
 a new church is building, in opposition to the old one, — 
 something in the spirit of the old Covenanters. The minis- 
 ter and family take tea here, at six, which will shorten this. 
 He and I got on very well. I write very hastily, expecting 
 every miniite to be summoned. I am looking at a hill (out 
 of a back window) covered with sheaves, for it is the middle 
 of harvest. Tom is off, — the minister's two boys are coming, 
 and he has made a crony of one ali-eady. My aunt and 
 uncle take kindly to him ; they admire his reading and his 
 spirit, though they have of course, some misunderstandings 
 between English and Scotch. My aunt has given him a 
 pencil-case of her brother Robert's, who was a " scholar at 
 College." I expect to be delighted with Edinburgh, and 
 shall probably go from here Friday next.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 389 
 
 And now, God bless you, my own dearest. Kiss my 
 Tibbie for me. I shall send to Dundee to-morrow to see 
 if there are any letters, but from this side the boats are not 
 frequent, and the ferry opposite Dundee is three miles off, — 
 a long pull there and back. Be sure and take your wine, 
 and drink the health of 
 
 Your own, affectionate, 
 
 Taos. Hood. 
 
 Wednesdai/, 
 Ferry Port-on-Craio, bt Cupar, Fife. 
 
 DoNDKE, Friday Mornijig. 
 My own Dearest, 
 
 We parted with my aunt and uncle this morning, 
 
 — they came with us in an open fly to the ferry, where we 
 
 separated on the very best terras. I dine to-day with Mr. 
 
 G , (he has lost his wife years ago) — sleep to-night in 
 
 Dundee, and to-morrow, per steamer, to Leith. 
 
 I think I shall leave Leith for London to-morrow (Satur- 
 day) week- 
 
 You must not come to meet me it is too uncertain, the 
 hour of arrival. I am very much better, and Tom visibly 
 fatter, and both in good spirits. I must shut this up as 
 
 Mr. G dines early. Love to Fanny. God bless you, 
 
 my own dearest and best. I have got slippers and all, and 
 am sending them off to the ferry. I shall have much to tell 
 you when we meet. 
 
 Your own, affectionate, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Edinbro', Wednesday Morning, 27th. 
 I HAVE not been quite able to make out, my own 
 dearest, about my letters to you ; it appears to me that one 
 of them has missed.
 
 390 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 I wrote from Dundee, then from the Ferry, and then from 
 Dundee again. I have not been able to write from here till 
 now, there is so much to see, and so much ground to be got 
 over. In one thing I have been unlucky, that it is the Long 
 Vacation, and most of the lions are out of town ; Wilson 
 thirty miles off, Napier gone too. I left my letter for him, 
 and also for Lord Jeffrey, who has just sent me an invita- 
 tion to dinner to-morrow at his seat, three miles hence. 
 Otherwise, I was partly resolved to return by to-day's 
 steamer, instead of Saturday's, which will now be the one. 
 Do not write again, therefore, lest I miss it. I went to 
 Chambers's and saw William ; Robert, the one I knew, lives 
 at St. Andrews, thirty miles off. Mrs. W. is in bad health, 
 but I drank tea with them. He showed us all over his 
 establishment ; everything, binding, &c., done on the pre- 
 mises ; and sent a younger brother, a very nice fellow, to 
 show us about. We went up to the Castle, saw the very 
 little room where James L was born, — half the size of my 
 room, or even less, — from the window the house where the 
 Burking was perpetrated ; he led us to some of the back 
 slums, and Tom saw the shop where the rope was bought to 
 hang Porteous ; still the same family in the same line in the 
 shop. 
 
 Saw the Advocates' Library, Old Parliament House, and 
 the anatomical museum of the Surgeons' Hall. I am de- 
 lighted with the city, — it exceeds my expectations. You 
 must go with me to the Edinbro' panorama when I return. 
 Yesterday we took a cold dinner at three, and then drove to 
 Musselburgh, as Blackwood said Moir was not likely to come 
 to Edinbro' shortly. 
 
 Such a kind welcome and delightful people — he and she ; 
 nice children. Tom and the boys got very sociable. About 
 Bix miles from here — staid three hours with them — took
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 391 
 
 very much to each other. We are in comfortable quarters. 
 For the sake of society we live in the travellers' room, and 
 dine at the ordinary. As one of the results, on Sunday 
 there dined a very strange man, — long beard, matted hair, 
 &c., — but spoke English, Thought he was the Hebrew Pro- 
 fessor at the College — turns out to be Alexander Groat, the 
 proprietor of John o' Groat's, with about X700 a-year — a 
 great oddity. But he has been very civil to me, given me 
 an order to see the Antiquaries Museum, (fee. I save one of 
 his orders for an autograph. We live on the best of Scotch 
 victuals; baddies breakfast and supper, whiskey- toddy, <fec., 
 &c. Tom enjoys it very much. I shall not fail to bring 
 home some sweeties for the Elliots and others. The weather 
 is beautiful, and I mean now to ramble all day, and see all I 
 can; so you must not expect me to write again. I look 
 longingly up at Salisbury Crags, and Arthur's Seat, but 
 " who can tell how hard it is to climb 1 " I don't think I 
 shall manage it, but mean to try some cool evening. 
 
 I am sleeping better again, but wish I had brought my 
 pills. I went to one shop, and the man was, he said, out of 
 galbanum. Went to another who said he had it, but gave 
 me something else. However, I am much better from the 
 constant air and exercise. I do not find, however, that I 
 can settle to write, but am growing ideas I suppose. I shall 
 perhaps write something about my trip to Edinburgh in my 
 book. I think I could make a funny burlesque of Willis' 
 pencilling style, only the characters visited to be imaginary 
 Professors, &c, &c. They would enjoy it here. I think of 
 looking to-day at the Canongate, Holyrood, and Heriot's 
 Hospital 
 
 Tom saw a cannon ball, that was fired at the Highlanders 
 from the Castle, sticking in the wall of a house. He has 
 almost filled his sketch book after his own fashion. I am ia
 
 392 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 good spirits, and hope to have some fun before I go; but I 
 am disappointed about Wilson, and think he will be sorry 
 too. Last night we had a party of travellers at the hotel, 
 singing Scotch songs, &c., to Tom's great amusement. It ia 
 much better this public room, than moping in a private 
 parlour. 
 
 A bookseller in the town, with a famous collection of 
 autographs, has sent to ask for mine, so I am going to call 
 on him this morning. If I do but keep as I am now, I shall 
 get on; the bracing air does me infinite good. I have in- 
 deed been surprised to find how far I can walk, being on my 
 feet gi-eat part of the day. I shall reserve a bit of room in 
 case of a letter from you when the post comes in, and 
 therefore stop for the present. Give my kind love to Mrs. 
 
 D . I should have liked to have seen her, but for this 
 
 invite of Lord Jeffrey's, but feel now that I ought not to 
 leave. 
 
 Give my love to Tibbie ; and Tom sends his, and kisses to 
 you all. 
 
 God bless you 
 
 My own dearest and best, 
 
 Your own affectionate, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 extracts from a letter to c. dickens, esq., after 
 return to london. 
 
 " Good bye, hope you are all too well, as usual ! We are 
 just so well, that we might be better, which is very well for 
 
 us. I am aware of all your kindness about C . Some 
 
 day, I don't know when, we will meet, I don't know where, 
 and go through, I don't know what, on that subject ! In 
 the meantime, Good-bye and God bless you all, and hang all
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 393 
 
 the aristocrats, French or Enghsh, who do not prefer Charles 
 Dick — to Charles Dix. 
 
 Mrs. Hood has gone to the Girlery (pronounced gallery) of 
 the Freemasons' Hall, to hear, see, and eat and drink all she 
 can. I cannot spare time or money for the arts, though I 
 love them and their professors, and particularly Stanfield, 
 for coming uninvited the other night. I shall believe here- 
 after in godsends and windfalls. Is he really a son of Mrs. 
 Inchbald's 1 She, who produced, you know, " Nature and 
 
 Art!" 
 
 # * * • 
 
 I called on my return from Scotland, but could not catch 
 
 you. I was delighted with Edinburgh, but unluckily it was 
 
 vacation time, and the professors Napier and Wilson were 
 
 absent. But I had the pleasure of dining with Lord Jeffrey 
 
 (at Craigcrook), who sent his love to you; and spent a very 
 
 happy evening with Moir, — delighted with him. Tom Junior 
 
 accompanied me. I am much better for my trip in various 
 
 ways. 
 
 * • * • 
 
 Towards the close of this year my father had been turning 
 over frequently the project of starting a magazine of his own, 
 but was anxious, and doubtful of such a bold step. Some 
 little difference about the "New Monthly" at length brought 
 him to the determination of risking it. As the result proved, 
 there was little reason for hesitation. Unfortunately, as will 
 be seen, even this success was not unalloyed by disappoint- 
 ment, — the partner with whom he embarked on the under- 
 taking, turning out rather to be an adventurous speculator, 
 than one of " those who have a sum of money to invest in, 
 etc."
 
 S91 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 17, Elm Tree Road, St. John's Wood, 
 Tuesday Night, Nov. 8, 1843. 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 I have been meaning to come down to Stratford 
 with my Scotch news for you and Mrs. Elliot, and my 
 sweeties for Jeanie and May, but I have been in quite a 
 whirlpool of business, which has kept me revolving round 
 home. First, my two volumes from the " New Monthly" to 
 prepare for the press, with tedious waitings on Colburn ; and 
 finally, negociations about to close for a new periodical — 
 " Hood's Magazine " — to come out on 1st January ! ! ! So, 
 I cannot keep the news from you, but write to tell you at 
 once what is likely to be. 
 
 My fortunes seem subject to crises, like certain disorders. 
 On or about Christmas, I am to dine with you, turn out, 
 
 and get a new house, come to issue with B , and start 
 
 with a periodical under my own name. N. B. — There are 
 folks with money to back it. I shall have a future share if 
 the thing becomes a property. 
 
 Yesterday I had an offer to write for " Jerrold's Maga- 
 zine " on my own terms, the project having got wind. This 
 looks well : so do I, people say, for Scotland did me good in 
 various ways. I think, if I could live in a monument on the 
 Calton Hill, I should keep pretty well. 
 
 There is a sort of rage for periodicals in our Row — at 
 least, Jane, who has been engaged for the last three years in 
 writing one " Childish " article, is thinking of starting a 
 Monthly Juvenile. You may safely take it in, for it won't 
 take you in beyond two or three numbers. It's very in- 
 nocent ! I have read one little bit, and can truly say it 
 wouldn't hurt the babby. I only hope it may not prove 
 one of the Fallacies of the Faculties. Mine is sure to do ;
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 395 
 
 and Jane feels hen-sure of hers. But who would have 
 thought of her keeping " a public ! " 
 
 She sends her love, and means to get to Stratford " as 
 soon as she is out ; " whether she means bodily or bookily I 
 
 cannot tell. I suspect she has a plot to ask M H 
 
 to write for the " rising generation." 
 
 Tom and Fanny have given her some hints how children 
 ought to be brought up ; and, of course, Dunnie, Jeanie, and 
 May, have some notions of their own on the same subject. 
 
 God bless you alL Tliese here all unite in love to those 
 there with, 
 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Jane desires me to say she hopes she may put down your 
 name among her prescribers. I suspect she means sub- 
 scribers, but must refer you to her prospectuses in print. 
 Pray tell Mrs. Elliot to tell Thomas not to send away any 
 hawkers with books in numbers — it may be lis. Excuse 
 boluses.* 
 
 In the Christmas Number of " Punch "+ for this year 
 
 * Blots. 
 
 t " Punch " had now reached his fifth volume, and the commencement 
 of his third year, having passed some time into the hands of Messrs. 
 Bradbury and Evans. In the commencement of the fifth volume, on the 
 second page, I think I recognise a cut of my father's — " The Lady in the 
 Lobster." The picture of a specimen of the "Cock-and-bull" genus at 
 page 213 of that volume I know to be his, though "why it was signed B., I 
 am at a loss to say. At page 223, appears a poem by my father, entitled 
 a ' ' Drop of Gin, " accompanying Kenny Meadows' illustration. The only 
 other contribution of my father's to "Punch," which I have been able to 
 trace, is a poem entitled " The Dream," apropos of the state trials in Ire- 
 land, and the Fair Maid of Pei-th, alluding to the ' ' Fighting Smith " in 
 either case. I hav.e strong suspicions that the following cuts in VoL IT.
 
 396 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 appeared the famous " Song of the Shirt." It was of course 
 inserted anonymously, but it ran through the land like wild- 
 fire. Paper after paper quoted it, and it became the talk of 
 the day. There was no little speculation as to its author, 
 although several, I believe Dickens among the number, 
 attributed it at once to its right source. At last my father 
 wrote to the " Sun " and acknowledged it. He was certainly 
 astonished, and a little amused at its wonderful popularity, 
 although my mother had said to him, when she was folding 
 up the packet ready for the press : " Now mind, Hood, mark 
 my words, this will tell wonderfully ! It is one of the best 
 things you ever did ! " This turned out a true prophecy. 
 It was translated into French and German ; and even I 
 believe into Italian. My father used often to laugh and 
 wonder how they rendered the peculiar burdea 
 
 " Stitch, stitch, stitch ! " 
 and also 
 
 " Seam and gusset and band ! " 
 
 It was printed on cotton pocket handkerchiefs for sale, and 
 has met with the usual fate of all popular poems, having 
 been parodied times without number. But what delighted, 
 and yet touched, my father most deeply was, that the poor 
 creatures, to whose sorrows and sufferings he had given such 
 eloquent voice, seemed to adopt its words as their own, by 
 
 were also by my father: viz., "Animal Mag.," "Take Care of the Speci- 
 men," "Pots," and " A Fancy Portrait of Oliver Twist." In this volume, 
 at p. 106, " A Police Report of a Daring Robbery," was, I suspect, partly 
 suggested by my father, who was much interested in the case, and, I 
 believe, first discovered the robbery to the ' * Athenaeum. " The piracy was 
 a literary one by the noble author of the " Tuft Hunter," a novel, which 
 said more for the research and reading of its compiler than for his inven- 
 tion or writing. The paper in "Punch" is worth referring to for the 
 clever likenesses of the various persona concerned. — T.H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 397 
 
 singing them about the streets to a rude air of their own 
 adaptation. In the same Christmas Number of "Punch" 
 appeared another contribution of my father's, the " Pauper's 
 Christmas Carol," but it was overlooked, shadowed by the 
 merits of its great companion.
 
 398 MEMOKIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 1844. 
 
 Removes to Devonshire Lodge, Finch'ey Road — " Hood's Magazine " — 
 Mrs. Hood to Dr. Elliot — Hon. Member of the Graphic Club — Letters 
 to Mr. Phillips, Mr. Douglas, and Miss May Elliot— Difficulties with 
 the Co-proprietor of the Magazine — Letter to Dr. Elliot— Mrs. Hood 
 to Dr. Elliot — Illness much increased — Letters to Mr. Dickens, and 
 Dr. Elliot's three Children — Goes to Blackheath for two months to 
 recruit his health — Letters to Dr. Elliot and Mr. Phillips — Second 
 Letter to the Secretaries of the Manchester Athenteum — Continual 
 Illness — Mrs. Hood to Lieut, de Franck — "The Lay of the Labourer" 
 — Letters to Dr. and Mrs. Elliot— Letter from Dr. Elliot to Mrs. 
 Hood, describing her Husband's Illness— The Pension— Letter to Sir 
 Robert Peel — Sir Robert Peel's Answer — Letter to Dr. Elliot — Letter 
 from Sir Robert Peel and Answer — Letters to Dr. Elliot. 
 
 Just after Christmas, 1843, my father removed from the 
 Elm Tree Road, to another house iu the same neighbour- 
 hood. In January, 1844, the first number of " Hood's 
 Magazine " appeared. It seemed to meet with very great 
 success ; my father had worked very hard, knowing how 
 much depended on the first start. I find he contributed the 
 following to the opening number : 
 
 The Haunted House, 
 
 A Tale of Temper, 
 
 Mrs. Burrage, A Temjierance Romance, 
 
 An Irish Rebellion, 
 
 A Song for the Million, 
 
 Misapprehension, 
 
 Skipping, A Mystery, 
 
 A Discovery in Astronomy, 
 
 Real Random Records, 
 
 A Dream by the Fire, 
 
 "The Mary," a Seaside Sketch.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 393 
 
 Altogether eleven articles, forming forty-six pages, not count- 
 ing epigrams, and a further nine or ten pages of reviews ; 
 in fact, more than half the number. At this time I find a 
 letter of my mother's to Dr. Elliot : — 
 
 " Hood has desired me to send you his book, which he 
 will write in when he comes to Stratford on Monday. He 
 is now staying in the Adelphi to be out of the bustle of 
 moving ; and in spite of fatigue of mind, and great excite- 
 ment, seemed well this evening, when I saw him, for every- 
 thing with regard to the magazine is going on to his great 
 satisfaction. I enclose a ' Punch ' paper, though you may 
 have seen Hood's ' Song of the Shirt,' as it was in the 
 ' Times ; ' I think he has scarcely ever written anythmg 
 that has been so much talked of as this song. We hear of 
 it eveiy where, and both morning and evening papers have 
 quoted it, and spoken of it. To-day I received a note from 
 Mrs. S. C. Hall, offering to send him occasional sketches for 
 his Magazine, stipulating to name her own terms, the pay- 
 ment to be ' the pleasure she will feel in assisting, however 
 humbly, in the success of his periodical : as a tribute of 
 veneration to the author of the Song of the Shirt.' " 
 
 It was during this year that my father was elected an 
 Honorary Member of the Graphic Club, which, I believe, 
 then held its meetings at the Thatched House. He 
 attended one or two of the soirees. The President of 
 the Royal, Society, the late Marquis of Northampton, also 
 honoured him with a card of invitation to his first conversa- 
 zione, but he was unfortunately too unwell to avail himself 
 of it. 
 
 My father having wearied of publishers (no wonder, con- 
 sidering some he met with), had determined to bring out 
 the Magazine at an oflBce of its own at No. 1, Adam Street, 
 Adelphi. This plan (which was afterwards found to produce
 
 400 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 much inconvenience, and was therefore abandoned), caused 
 some opposition on the part of the trade, and rendered my 
 father very anxious at the time. 
 
 The following letter was addressed to the late Samuel 
 Phillips, with whom my father became intimate through 
 Mr. Phillips' having been occasionally a contributor to the 
 Magazine. Mr. Phillips had just lost his wife. The letter 
 accompanied the first number of the magazine. 
 
 1, Adam Street, Adelphi, Jan. 1, 1844. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I cannot tell you how much your letter shocked 
 and grieved me ; for being strictly a domestic man myself, 
 finding my comfort for many evils in the bosom of my 
 family, I can the better imagine and sympathise with such 
 a bereavement. 
 
 The only comfort I can offer to you, is the one which I have 
 found most consolatory under the loss of dear relatives, the 
 belief that we do not love in vain; that so surely as we must 
 live, having lived, so must we love, having loved, and that 
 after some term, longer or shorter, but a mere vibration of 
 the great pendulum of eternity, we shall all be re-united. 
 In the meantime let us endure as bravely as we can for the 
 sake of others. 
 
 You may guess by the number, which comes with this, 
 how I have been occupied, writing very hard with the pros- 
 pect of fighting very hard, for there is every appearance of a 
 trade combination against us. But the first number seems 
 very well liked. The plate * I may commend as very beau- 
 tiful, knowing something practically of engraving. I need 
 
 • The plate mentbned in this letter was an illustration of the "Haunted 
 House," engraved from a picture, which, I need only say, was by Creswick, 
 to convince the reader of its beauty. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 401 
 
 not say, when you feel well enough to resume your pen, how 
 happy I shall be to receive a paper from you. We have 
 agreed not to have any serials (as, not being booksellers, we 
 can do nothing afterwards with the copyright), but each 
 article independent of another. 
 
 I would not trouble you with this, but that, without any 
 selfish view, I would earnestly recommend you, from my own 
 experience, to resume your pen. I have had my share of 
 the troubles of this world, as well as of the calamities of 
 authors, and have found it to be a very great blessing to be 
 able to carry my thoughts into the ideal, from the too strong 
 real. 
 
 I am writing hastily, which you will, I know, excuse ; for 
 you must be well aware of what a Christmas month it has 
 been for editors, and the 31st on a Sunday ! And I have 
 another short one before me with only twenty-eight days ; 
 I hope I shall survive it. Thank God my blood keeps witliin 
 bounds. 
 
 Mrs. Hood desires her kind regards, and believe me to be, 
 my dear sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 My new home is at* Devonshire Lodge, New Finchley 
 Road, St. John's Wood, where I shall be most happy to 
 see you; it is just beyond the "Eyre Arms," three doors 
 short of the turnpike. The Magazine Office is 1, Adam 
 Street, Adelphi, and I am sometimes there of a morning. I 
 just see I have made a mistake about twenty-eight days, I 
 was thinking of the No. for February. 
 
 * My father gave the house this name in rememhrance of the exceeding 
 generosity and kindness, which, as has been mentioned, he received from 
 the late Duke of Devonshire. — T. H. —   
 
 VOL. X. 25
 
 402 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 The following extract from a letter from my mother to 
 Dr. Elliot describes the troubles that further beset the un- 
 lucky magazine, in spite of the hard labouring of its editor, 
 and its popularity with the reading public. 
 
 " You will be sorry to hear that Mr. , the proprietor 
 
 of ' Hood's Magazine,' has engaged in the speculation without 
 sufficient means to carry it on — having been tempted by the 
 goodness of the speculation, and hoping to scramble through 
 it. Hood is obliged of course to get rid of him, and find 
 some one else. The first alarm we had, was his quarrelling 
 with Bradbury and Evans, the printers, about payment. 
 This was on the 27th of January ; he then got another man 
 in February, who could not manage it ; and on the 12th, he 
 engaged another, who had new type to buy, and could not 
 begin to print until the 16 th — this in the shortest month 
 of the year. The worry laid Hood up ; and all these things 
 of course prevented the Magazine coming out in time. It is 
 
 doing well. B told Mr. Phillips he never before heard 
 
 of such a sale as 1500 for a first number; and, having been 
 well advertised, it does not now want much to carry it on ; 
 BO there will be no difficulty in getting another partner. 
 
 Hood will be obliged next week to compel Mr. to pay 
 
 him — he owes him nearly £100. Of course it has been a sad 
 blow to us, and crippled us for the present. This man's 
 behaviour has astonished us, having started apparently with 
 such plenty. His house is his own, and brings him in, let oflf 
 in chambers, £400 a-year ! Hood dines to-day at Dr. 
 Bowring's, in Queen's Square. He knew him well years ago 
 in the 'London Magazine ;' and he wrote a few days ago to 
 ask Hood to meet Bright and Cobden on business. / think 
 to engage him to write songs for the League. I augur good 
 from it. This comes of the ' Song of the Shirt,' of which 
 we hear something continually."
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 403 
 
 The next and three subsequent letters were written to 
 three of Dr. Elliot's children,* especial favourites of my 
 father's. 
 
 17, Elm Trek Road, St. John's Wood, 
 Monday, Apnl, 1844. 
 My dear Mat, 
 
 I promised you a letter, and here it is. I was sure 
 
 to remember it ; for you are as hard to forget as you are soft 
 
 to roll down a hill with. What fun it was ! only so prickly, 
 
 I thought I had a porcupine in one pocket, and a hedgehog 
 
 in the other. The next time, before we kiss the earth we 
 
 will have its face well shaved. Did you ever go to Greenwich 
 
 Fair? I should like to go there with you, for I get no 
 
 rolling at St. John's Wood. Tom and Fanny only like roll 
 
 and butter, and as for Mrs. Hood, she is for rolling in 
 
 money. 
 
 Tell Dunnie that Tom has set his trap in the balcony 
 
 and has caught a cold, and tell Jeanie that Fanny has set 
 
 her foot in the garden, but it has not come up yet. Oh, how 
 
 I wish it was the season when " March winds and April 
 
 showers bring forth May flowers ! " for then of course you 
 
 would give me another pretty little nosegay. Besides it is 
 
 frosty and foggy weather, which I do not like. The other 
 
 night, when I came from Stratford, the cold shrivelled me up 
 
 so, that when I got home, I thought I was my own child ! 
 
 * They have been mentioned before in the notes, as pets of his ; and the 
 letters will prove how admirably my father could adapt his style to chil- 
 dren. It is much to be regretted that a plan he entertained for writing a 
 Bet of children's books was not carried out. We have however the MS3. 
 of some short pieces written by him for the "Juvenile Magazine" (see 
 letter to Dr. Elliot, Nov. 8, 1843), which my mother meditated, and of 
 which we have a good deal of the matter by us. The allusion at the com- 
 mencement of this letter is to an accidental tumble and roll, which befel 
 my father and little May, while at a pic-nic in the forest. They rolled 
 down a bank, and landed in a furze bush at the bottpm. — T.H.
 
 404 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 However, I hope we shall all have a merry Christmas ; I 
 mean to come in my most ticklesome waistcoat, and to laugh 
 till I grow fat, or at least streaky. Fanny is to be allowed a 
 glass of wine, Tom's mouth is to have a hole holiday, and 
 Mrs. Hood is to sit up to supper ! There will be doings ! 
 And then such good things to eat; but pray, pray, pray, 
 mind they don't boil the baby by mistake for a plump 
 pudding, instead of a plum one. 
 
 Give my love to everybody, from yourself down to Willy,* 
 with which and a kiss, I remain up hill and down dale, 
 
 Your affectionate lover, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 During my father's editorship of the " New Monthly 
 Magazine," he became personally acquainted with one of his 
 contributors, a young naval surgeon,* Mr. Robert Douglas. 
 He wrote several papers under the signature of a " Medical 
 Student," which evinced much talent, although of a rather 
 original and peculiar kind. When my father started his 
 
 * "Willy," at that writing, being very tall for his age, and May, his 
 youngest sister, not very tall for her age. — T. H. 
 
 + Mr. Douglas was a very kind friend to me, and presented me with a 
 knife given him by a Spaniard, on some of the wild Sierras, for bleeding 
 his wife, who was dangerously ill. He also gave me a small Brazilian 
 monkey, which latter gift was the cause of some merriment. My mother 
 hearing that he was going to bring me "a monkey," had visions of 
 quadrumana very different from the reality (a pretty squirrel-like creature), 
 and wrote to entreat Douglas to spare her the infliction of such a pet : 
 having occasion at the same time to writ« to Mr. Lemon about ' ' Punch, " 
 she put the letters into the wrong envelopes. The result was, that Mr. 
 Lemon was accused of meditating a monkey he had never heard of, while 
 Douglas was puzzled with directions about "Punch," with which he was 
 far less acquainted, than "three-water grog." Uf course my father did 
 Bot spare this. I remember that Mr. Douglas was tlie only person who 
 ever persuaded my father to smoke. He recommended it as an assistance 
 to digestion, but I do not think my father took to the prescription to any 
 extent — not beyond the "exhibition " of two or three whiffs. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 405 
 
 own Magazine, Mr. Douglas, with one or two others, including 
 the late Mr. W. J. Broderip, F.R.S., author of " Zoological 
 Recreations," and Mr. Frederic Hardman, author of the 
 "Student of Salamanca," followed him and wrote for the 
 new periodical. My father frequently corresponded with Mr. 
 Douglas, and suggested alterations or curtailmeuts of hisMSS., 
 and in his last letter to him in 1844, spoke of his tempo- 
 rary rallying from illness, but his knowledge, also, that it 
 was but a passing amelioration. Indeed he said it was 
 probable that, when Mr. Douglas returned from his next trip, 
 he might not find him alive ; to this letter I find among 
 other matters the following reply: — 
 
 " I am glad to hear that you are so well, and would recom- 
 mend you, professionally speaking, not to indulge in those 
 pleasing anticipations of seeing the other world, but to be 
 content with the one you are in, for a day or two ! " 
 
 My father's forebodings were however curiously realised, 
 but not in the manner he prophesied. His next news of his 
 friend was the announcement, by a stranger, that Mr. 
 Douglas had been suddenly taken with an infectious fever, 
 and being comparatively a stranger at Devonport (where he 
 had been awaiting his appointment to a new ship), he had 
 been taken to the hospital, where he died ; and was buried 
 before his family, residing in Scotland, could reach him. 
 
 In the month of May my father was again taken ill, 
 partly from the hard work, occasioned by a new periodical, 
 and partly from anxiety owing to some doubts as to the sol- 
 vency of his co-proprietor of the speculation. How little 
 could those, who carelessly passed an idle hour perhaps over 
 this amusing periodical imagine what the toil was, that created 
 their passing amusement; a toil now fearfully aggravated by 
 frequently recurring attacks of a mortal disease. 
 
 On the 22nd of May I find my mother writing to Dr. Elliot :
 
 406 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 " Hood cculd not give up the hope of getting the maga- 
 zine out till last night, for it is quite a sin to let what might 
 be so good, fall to the ground. Could he have got a pubhsher, 
 it might have been done, but now it's too late. 
 
 " Last night he fretted dreadfully, and, at one this morn- 
 ing, was seized so suddenly with short breathing, and fullness 
 
 of the chest, I thought he could not live. 
 
 ***** 
 
 " He lies veiy quiet reading in his bed, not speaking, but 
 I fear he is very ill. I do not write this to ask you to come, 
 my dear Dr. Elliot, for what can be done to relieve his poor 
 mind, which feels cruelly this failure of a work, he has 
 laboured at night and day, and which would have been a 
 good property if carried on. I dare not write more, or I 
 shall be unfit to do my best for him." 
 
 In the midst however of this sickness and distress, my 
 father's friends rallied round him. Mr. F. 0. Ward installed 
 himself as unpaid sub-editor, and corrected proofs, ana 
 arranged matter for the press. 
 
 May 23, 1844. 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 Put on six leeches yesterday, on the pit of the 
 
 stomach (my stomach ought to be all pit by this time) : the 
 
 bites bled a good deal. I slept at night but was very exhausted. 
 ***** 
 
 Great noises in the chest when I swallow, as of renewed 
 
 action. Heart quiet, and pulse stronger ; beat equal and not 
 
 too fast. I think it is a turn for the better ; but I am 
 
 dreadfully reduced. I find brown bread and honey a good diet. 
 
 Yours ever affectionately, 
 
 T. Hood. 
 
 P.T.O. A pleasant party to you. To-day is my birthday — 
 forty-five— but I can't tell how old I feel; enough to be your
 
 MEMOKIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. <07 
 
 grandfather at least, and give you advice ! viz., don't ovcr- 
 polka yourself. 
 
 EPIGRAM ON DR. ROBERT ELLIOT, 
 
 OF CAMBERWELL. 
 
 Whatever Doctor Robert's skill be worth, 
 One hope within me still is stout and hearty, 
 
 He would not kill me till the 24th, 
 For fear of my appearing at his party ! 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, New Finchlet Road, St. John's Wood, 
 
 Monday. 
 
 My dear Dickens, 
 
 I cannot say how delighted I was to learn from my 
 friend "Ward that you had promised me a little " bit o' 
 writin" to help me to launch afloat again. It has been a 
 cruel business, and I really wanted help in it, or I should not 
 have announced it, knowing how much you have to do, I 
 
 am certainly a lucky man and an unlucky man too — for S 
 
 is far better than the promise of . 
 
 By the bye, I have heard one or two persons doubt the 
 reality of a Pecksniff — or the possibility — but I have lately 
 
 met two samples of the breed. is most decidedly a 
 
 Pecksniffian; as Ward says, he is so "confoundedly wViworts." 
 After telling two parties he was going to fail, his brother 
 corroborating, — after excusing himself from giving me up 
 the stock for debt to me, as he had promised, because it 
 would be preferring one creditor, — he turned round, and 
 said, he was not only not going to fail, but had never said so ! 
 On the back of this he now says if all will not take a compo- 
 sition, there will be a friendly fiat ! He cried to Ward, and 
 begged him to get him a situation, of only a guinea a-week, 
 as he was a ruined man ; and then served a ivrit — not a 
 summons — on Ward for eighteen copies he had had of the
 
 408 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 back stock ! less than £2. And then when Ward went to 
 
 settle this, said, Pecksnifi&shly, " Now, Mr. Ward, let 
 
 me ask, in the whole of our intercourse in this business, have 
 I behaved in any way inconsistent with what you think is 
 right and proper 1 " " Why," said Ward, " I really cannot 
 think how you could reconcile to your conscience to say and 
 
 do" so and so. "Conscience!" said , "sir, I have 
 
 lived too long in the world to be a slave to my conscience!!'' 
 Was not this capital ? Just let me know by a single line per 
 bearer, how much space I shall leave for you, as I will leave 
 the first sheet open, not to hurry you. 
 
 I hear that you are going to learn on the spot to eat 
 Italian macaroni For God's sake take care of the malaria ! 
 I am suflFering still from a touch of the Dutch pest, ten 
 years ago. Last week I dined at Tom Landseer's, and was 
 taken so ill on the road home, walking, I was obliged to get 
 a policeman to assist me ; and after all I suspect he 
 thought it a strange case of drunkenness — the gent having 
 all the use of his faculties, but unable to walk without 
 support. 
 
 Mrs. Hood unites in kind regards to yourself and Mrs. 
 Dickens. Our new house is in a road that is a nice drive 
 when you take an airing. Verb. sap. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 How is Forster 1 I heard lately that he was ill again. 
 
 The literary help mentioned in the last, was promptly 
 afforded by Mr. Dickens, in spite of his own multifarious 
 engagements. It consisted of a " Threatening Letter to 
 Thomas Hood, from an elderly gentlemen, by the favour of 
 Charles Dickens, Esq." About this time Tom Thumb was
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 409 
 
 the rage ia London, and at Windsor, and the letter was a 
 clever satire on the folly of this childish admiration of 
 
 "The abridgment of all that is pleasant in man." 
 
 Devokshirk Lodge, New Finchley Road, Tuesday. 
 
 My dear Dickens, 
 
 I must write at last in lieu of coming as I have 
 hoped, leaning on a hanker for day after day, but a severe 
 course of influenza with a strong cough has so shaken the 
 little physical power I possessed that I can hardly stand, 
 and certainly cannot go, without a go-cart. I have indeed 
 had a foretaste of dying, in a terrible shortness of breath 
 at night. I never felt touched in the wind before, but know 
 now that I have lungs. What a comfort ! Apropos of which 
 let me again cry to you to beware of Italian malaria. 
 My ten-year-old marsh malady has throughout aggravated 
 the other by agiie-ish chills and fitful fever. And what's 
 more it is not catching, so that you cannot give it to any 
 one that you don't like. But for this influenza, I should 
 long ago have had an outfluenza to grasp your hand, and 
 thank you for your great kindness, which I feel the more, 
 from knowing, by experience, how many obstacles there were 
 in the way of it. Thanks to that, and similar backing, I 
 shall now, I think, turn the corner ; and in the meantime 
 the pinch has not only shown me in a very gi-atifying way 
 the sincerity of some longer friends, but has procured me a 
 succession of new ones. For example Ward, who has slaved 
 for the Magazine like an enthusiastic sub-editor. 
 
 Your paper is capital. I had been revolted myself by the 
 royal running after the American mite, and the small- 
 mindedness of being so fond of an unmagnified man or child. 
 1 cannot understand the wish to see a dwarf twice. At
 
 410 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Coblenz* I saw two natural curiosities, for they were 
 brothers, one about forty years old, not at all deformed 
 except that his face was a little large in proportion : he was 
 a clerk in the War Office, and frequented an ordinary at the 
 hotel near me, where he had a miniature set of plates, knife 
 and fork, &c. His brother was a flower and miniature 
 painter at Diisseldorf, and looked like a child, for he had a 
 straw hat, little frock coat, and his hair in long curls down 
 his back. But he was manly enough to be found locked up 
 in a room with some one to fight a duel about a lady. I 
 think neither of them were taller than my Tom, then three 
 years old. 
 
 The two Queens ought henceforward always to look 
 through the wrong ends of their telescopes and opera glasses. 
 I long to see you and have a gossip on things in general, but 
 cannot say when I shall get abroad. 
 
 Give our kind regards to Mrs. Dickens. 
 I am, 
 
 My dear Dickens, 
 
 Your ever very truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 The following announcement appeared at the end of the 
 number for June. 
 
 THE ECHO. 
 
 It is with feelings of the deepest concern that we acquaint 
 our subscribers, and the public, with the circumstances that 
 have, during the past month, deprived this Magazine of the 
 invaluable services of its Editor. A severe attack of the 
 disorder, to which he has long been subject, haemorrhage 
 from the lungs, occasioned by enlargement of the heart 
 
 * See tail-piece to this chapter, — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 411 
 
 (itself brought on by the wearing excitement of ceaseless 
 and excessive literary toil) has, in the course of a few weeks, 
 reduced Mr. Hood to a state of such extreme debility and 
 exhaustion, that, during several days, fears were entertained 
 for his life. Nevertheless, up to Thursday the 23rd he did 
 not relinquish the hope that he should have strength to 
 continue, in the present number, the novel which he began 
 in the last ; and he even directed his intentions to be 
 announced in the advertisements, which were sent out on 
 that day to the Saturday journals. On the same evening 
 sitting up in bed, he tried to invent, and sketch, a few comic 
 designs ; but even this effort exceeded his strength, and was 
 followed by the wandering delirium of utter nervous ex- 
 haustion. Next morning his medical attendants declared 
 that the repetition of any such attempt, at that critical 
 period of his illness, might cost him his life. We trust that 
 this brief explanation will obtain for Mr. Hood the sympathy 
 and kind indulgence of our subscribers; and especially that 
 it will satisfy them of the perfect bona fides, with which the 
 promise of a contribution from his pen was advertised in the 
 Saturday papers. Mr. Hood, we are happy to say, is now 
 gradually recovering strength ; and there is every reason to 
 expect that he will be able, in the next number, to give the 
 promised new chapters, and illustrations, at present of neces- 
 sity deferred. 
 
 Conscious of his enfeebled powers and uncertain hand, 
 Mr. Hood threw aside the above-mentioned sketches, as too 
 insignificant for publication. But it has been thought, that 
 the contrast of their sprightly humour with the pain and 
 prostration, in the midst of which they were produced, 
 might give them a peculiar interest, independent of any 
 merit of their own : suggesting, pei-haps, the reflection (never 
 too trite to be repeated, so long as it is too true to be
 
 412 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 denied), by what harassing efforts the food of careless mirth 
 is furnished, and how often the pleasure of the Many costs 
 bitter endurance to the One. 
 
 Disobeying, therefore, for once, the direction of our chief, 
 we have preserved two of these " sickroom fancies," which 
 will enable us to convey, in his own quaint picture-language, 
 to the readers of "Hood's Mag.," "The Editor's Apologies."* 
 
 The next three letters were written to the three little 
 Elliots — namely, Dunnie (familiarly called " Jack," and " Old 
 Fellow"), Jeanie, and May, the heroine of the roll down the 
 Wanstead Slopes. They were then spending a few weeks by 
 the sea at Sandgate. 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, New Finchlet Road, St. John's Wood, 
 
 July 1 (1st of Hebrew falsity). 
 
 My dear Dunnie, 
 
 I have heard of your doings at Sandgate, and that 
 you were so happy at getting to the sea, that you were 
 obliged to be flogged a little to moderate it, and keep some 
 for next day. I am very fond of the sea, too, though I have 
 been twice nearly drowned by it ; once in a storm in a ship, 
 and once under a boat's bottom when I was bathing. Of 
 course you have bathed, but have you learned to swim yet 1 
 It is rather easy in salt water, and diving is still easier, even, 
 than at the sink. I only swim in fancy, and strike out new 
 ideas ! 
 
 Is not the tide curious 1 Though I cannot say much for 
 its tidiness ; it makes such a slop and litter on the beach. 
 It comes and goes as regularly as the boys of a proprietary 
 school, but has no holidays. And what a rattle the waves 
 
 * " Hood's Mag.," was a magpie with a hawk's hood on ; "The Editor's 
 Apologies," a collection of bottles, leeches, and blisters. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 413 
 
 make with the stones when they are rough ; you will find 
 some rolled into decent marbles and bounces : and some- 
 times you may hear the sound of a heavy sea, at a distance, 
 like a giant snoring. Some people say that every ninth wave 
 is bigger than the rest. I have often counted, but never 
 found it come true, except with tailors, of whom every ninth 
 is a man. But in rough weather there are giant waves, 
 bigger than the rest, that come in trios, from which, I sup- 
 pose, Bi'itannia rules the waves by the rule of three. When 
 I was a boy, I loved to play with the sea, in spite of its 
 sometimes getting rather rowgh. I and my brother chucked 
 hundreds of stones into it, as you do ; but we came away 
 before we could fill it up. In those days we were at war 
 with France. Unluckily, it's peace now, or with so many 
 stones you might have good fun for days in pelting the 
 enemy's coast. Once I almost thought I nearly hit Boney ! 
 Then there was looking for an island like Robinson Crusoe ! 
 Have you ever found one yet, surrounded by water ? I re- 
 member once staying on the beach, when the tide was flow- 
 ing, till I was a peninsula, and only by running turned 
 myself into a continent. 
 
 Then there's fishing at the seaside. I used to catch flat 
 fish with a very long string line. It was like swimming a 
 kite ! But perhaps there are no flat fish at Sandgate — except 
 your shoe-soles. The best plan, if you want flat fish where 
 there are none, is to bring codlings and hammer them into 
 dabs. Once I caught a plaice, and, seeing it all over red 
 spots, thought I had caught the measles. 
 
 Do you ever long, when you are looking at the sea, for a 
 voyage % If I were off" Sandgate with my yacht (only she is 
 not yet built), I would give you a cruise in her. In the 
 meantime you can practise sailing any little boat you can 
 get. But mind that it does not flounder or get squamped.
 
 414 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 aa riome peojDle say, instead of "founder" and "swamp." I 
 Lave been swamped myself by malaria, and almost foundered, 
 which reminds me that Tom junior, being very ingenious, has 
 made a cork model of a diving-bell, that won't sink. 
 
 By this time, I suppose, you are become, instead of a land- 
 boy, a regular sea-urchin ; and so amphibious, that you can 
 walk on the land as well as on the water — or better. And 
 don't you mean, when you grow up, to go to sea ? Should 
 you not like to be a little midshipman 1 or half a quarter- 
 master, with a cocked hat, and a dirk, that will be a sword 
 by the time you are a man 1 If you do resolve to be a post- 
 captain, let me know ; and I will endeavour, through my 
 interest with the Commissioners of Pavements, to get you 
 a post to jump over of the proper height. Tom is just 
 rigging a boat, so I suppose that he inclines to be an Admiral 
 of the Marines. But before you decide, remember the port- 
 holes, and that there are great guns in those battle-doors 
 that will blow you into shuttlecocks, which is a worse game 
 than whoop and hide — as to a good hiding ! 
 
 And so farewell, young " Old Fellow," and take care of 
 yourself so near the sea, for in some places they say, it has 
 not even a bottom to go to if you fall in. And remember 
 when you are bathing, if you meet with a shark, the best way 
 is to bite off his legs, if you can, before he walks off with 
 yours. And so, hoping you will be better soon, for some- 
 body told me you had the shingles, 
 
 I am, my dear Dunnie, 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 P.S. — I have heard that at Sandgate there used to be 
 lohster& ; but some ignorant fairy turned them all by a spell 
 into bolsters.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 416 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, New Finohlky Eoad, July 1, 1844. 
 
 My dear Jeanie, 
 
 So you are at Sandgate ! Of course, wishing for 
 
 your old play-fellow, M H , (he can play, — it's work 
 
 to me) to help you to make little puddles in the Sand, and 
 swing on the Gate. But perhaps there are no sand and. 
 gate at Sandgate, which, in that case, nominally tells us a 
 fib. But there must be little crabs somewhere, which you 
 can catch, if you are nimble enough, so like spiders, I 
 wonder they do not make webs. The large crabs are 
 scarcer. 
 
 If you do catch a big one with strong claws — and like 
 experiments — you can shut him up in a cupboard with a 
 loaf of sugar, and you can see whether he will break it up 
 with his nippers. Besides crabs, I used to find jelly-fish 
 on the beach, made, it seemed to me, of sea-calves' feet, and 
 no sherry. 
 
 The mermaids eat them, I suppose, at their wet water- 
 parties, or salt soirees. There were star-fish also, but they 
 did not shine till they were stinking, and so made very un- 
 celestial constellations. 
 
 I suppose you never gather any sea-flowers, but only sea- 
 weeds. The truth is Mr. David Jones never rises from 
 his bed, and so has a garden full of weeds, like Dr. Watts's 
 Sluggard. 
 
 Oysters are as bad, for they never leave their beds wil- 
 lingly, though they get such oceans of "cold pig." At some 
 sea-sides you may pick up shells, but I have been told that 
 at Sandgate there are no shells, except those with passive 
 green peas and lively maggots. 
 
 I have heard that you bathe in the sea, which is very 
 refreshing, but it requires care ; for if you stay under water
 
 416 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 too long, you may come xip a mermaid, who is only half a 
 lady, with a fish's tail, — which she can boil if she likes. You 
 had better try this with your Doll, whether it turns her into 
 half a " dollfin." 
 
 I hope you like the sea. I always did when I was a child, 
 which was about two years ago. Sometimes it makes such 
 a fizzing and foaming, I wonder some of our London cheats 
 do not bottle it up, and sell it for ginger-pop. 
 
 When the sea is too rough, if you pour the sweet-oil out 
 of the cruet all over it, and wait for a calm, it wiU be quite 
 smooth, — much smoother than a dressed salad. 
 
 Some time ago exactly, there used to be, about the part 
 of the coast where you are, lai*ge white birds with black- 
 tipped wings, that went flying and screaming over the sea, 
 and now and then plunged down into the water after a fish. 
 Perhaps they catch their sprats now with nets or hooks and 
 lines. Do you ever see such birds? We used to call them 
 " gulls," — but they didn't mind it ! Do you ever see any 
 boats or vessels ? And don't you wish, when you see a ship, 
 that Somebody was a sea-captain instead of a Doctor, that 
 he might bring you home a pet lion, or calf elephant, ever 
 so many parrots, or a monkey, from foreign parts ? I knew 
 a little girl who was promised a baby whale by her sailor 
 brother, and who blubbered because he did not bring it. I 
 suppose there are no whales at Sandgate, but you might 
 find a seal about the beach; or, at least, a stone for one. 
 The sea stones are not pretty when they are dry, but look 
 beautiful when they are wet, — and we can always keep suck- 
 ing them ! 
 
 If you can find one, pray pick me up a pebble for a seal. 
 I prefer the red sort, like Mrs. Jenkins's brooch and ear- 
 rings, which she calls " red chamelion." Well, how happy 
 you must be ! Childhood is such a joyous, merry time ;
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 417 
 
 and I often wish I was two or three children ! But I sup- 
 pose I can't be ; or else I would be Jeanie, and May, and 
 Dunnie Elliot. And wouldn't I pull off my three pairs of 
 shoes and socks, and go paddling in the sea up to my six 
 knees ! And oh ! how I would climb up the downs, and roll 
 down the ups on my three backs and stomachs ! Capital 
 sport, only it wears out the woollens. Which reminds me 
 of the sheep on the downs, and little May, so innocent, I 
 dare say, she often crawls about on all fours, and tries to eat 
 grass like a lamb. Grass isn't nasty; at least, not very, if 
 you take care, while you are browsing, not to chump up the 
 dandelions. They are large, yellow star-flowers, and often 
 grow about dairy farms, but give very bad milk ! 
 
 When I can buy a telescope powerful enough, I shall have 
 a peep at you. I am told with a good glass, you can see the 
 sea at such a distance that the sea cannot see you ! Now 
 I must say good bye, for my paper gets short, but not 
 stouter. Pray give my love to your Ma, and my compli- 
 ments to Mrs. H and no mistake, and lemember me, 
 
 my dear Jeanie, as your 
 
 Affectionate friend, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 The other Tom Hood sends his love to everybody and 
 every thing. 
 
 P.S. Don't forget my pebble : — and a good naughty-laaa 
 would be esteemed a curiosity. 
 
 Devonshire Lodok, New Finchlky Koad, July 1, 1844. 
 
 My dear May, 
 
 How do you do, and how do you like the sea ? not 
 much perhaps, it's " so big." But shouldn't you like a nice 
 little ocean, that you could put in a pan ? Yet the sea, 
 VOL. X. 27
 
 418 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 although it looks rather ugly at first, is very useful, and, if 
 I were uear it this dry summer, I would carry it all home, 
 to water the garden with at Stratford, and it would be sure 
 to drown all the blights, if ay-flies and all 1 
 
 I remember that, when I saw the sea, it used sometimes 
 to be very fussy, and fidgety, and did not always wash 
 itself quite clean ; but it was very fond of fun. Have the 
 waves ever run after you yet, and turned your little two 
 shoes into pumps, full of water 1 ; 
 
 If you want a joke you might push Duunie into the sea, 
 and then fish for him as they do for a Jack. But don't go 
 in yourself, and don't let the baby go in and swim away 
 although he is the shrimp of the family. Did you ever taste 
 the sea-water? The fishes are so fond of it they keep 
 drinking it all the day long. Dip your little finger in, and 
 then suck it to see how it tastes. A glass of it warm, with 
 sugar, and a grate of nutmeg, would quite astonish you ! 
 The water of the sea is so saline, I wonder nobody catches 
 salt fish in it. I should think a good way would be to go 
 out in a butter boat, with a little melted for sauce. Have 
 you been bathed yet in the sea, and were you afraid 1 I 
 was, the first time, and the time before that ; and dear me, 
 how I kicked, and screamed— or, at least, meant to scream, 
 but the sea, ships and all, began to run into my mouth, and 
 so I shut it up. 1 think I see you behig dipped in the sea, 
 screwing your eyes up, and putting your nose, like a button, 
 into your mouth, like a button-hole, for fear of getting 
 another smell and taste 1 By-the-bye, did you ever dive 
 your head under water with yovu- legs up in the air like a 
 duck, and try whether you could cry "Quack?" Some 
 animals can ! I would try, but there is no sea here, and so I 
 am forced to dip into books. I wish there were such nice 
 green hills here as there are at Sandgate They must Uo
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 419 
 
 very nice to roll down, especially if there are no furze bushes 
 to prickle one, at the bottom ! Do you remember how the 
 thorns stuck iu us like a penn'orth of mixed pins at Wan- 
 stead 1 1 have been very ill, and am so thin now I could 
 stick myself into a prickle. My legs, in particular, are so 
 wasted away that somebody says my pins are only needles : 
 and I am so weak, I dare say you could push me down on 
 the floor, and right thro' the carpet, unless it was a strong 
 pattern. I am sure if I were at Sandgate, you could carry 
 me to the post-office, and fetch my letters. Talking of 
 caiTying, I suppose you have donkeys at Sandgate, and ride 
 about on them. Mind and always call them " donkeys," for 
 if you called them asses, it might reach such long ears ! I 
 knew a donkey once that kicked a man for calling him Jack 
 instead of John. 
 
 There are no flowers I suppose on the beach, or I would 
 ask you to bring me a bouquet as you used at Stratford. 
 But there are little crabs ! If you would catch one for me, 
 and teach it to dance the Polka, it would make me quite 
 happy ; for I have not had any toys, or play-things for a 
 long time. Did you ever try, like a little crab, to run two 
 ways at once 1 See if you can do it, for it is good fun ; 
 never mind tumbling over yourself a little at first. It would 
 be a good plan to hire a little crab, for an hour a day, to 
 teach baby to crawl, if he can't walk, and, if I was his 
 mamma, I would too ! Bless him ! But I must not wTite 
 on him any more — he is so soft, and I have nothing but 
 steel pens. 
 
 And now good-bye, Fanny has made my tea, and I must 
 drink it before it gets too hot, as we all were last Sunday 
 week. They say the glass was 88 in the shade, which is a 
 great age ! The last fair breeze I blew dozens of kisses for 
 you, but the wind changed, and I am afraid took them all t<:'
 
 420 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Miss H or somebody that it shouldn't. Give my love 
 
 to everybody and my compliments to all the rest, and re- 
 member, I am, my dear May, 
 
 Your loving friend, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 P.S. Don't forget my little crab to dance the Polka, and 
 pray write to me soon as you can't, if it's only a line.* 
 
 In July, 1844, after his serious illness, my father went, for 
 change of air, and to recruit his exhausted energies, to stay 
 for some weeks at Blackheath. He took up his abode for 
 the time at Vanbrugh House, " that goose-pie of a castle, 
 built on the model of the Bastille, which Vanbrugh built for 
 himself on the Park side of the Heath." Here he was able 
 to get fresh air, and bracing air too, while he enjoyed the 
 beautiful scenery of Greenwich Park ; and was, moreover, in 
 easy communication with Loudon. 
 
 Vanbrugh House, July 23, 1844. 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 I am so curious to see with what sort of face you 
 
 can forbid me such cooling draughts as iced champagne, and 
 
 * It is very curious to note, in tlie foregoing letters, a peculiar and 
 touching sadness underlying the fun, which runs riot through them all. 
 As an instance of this, after joking with Dannie about swimming, my 
 father adds — "I only swim in fancy and strike out new ideas." It seems 
 like an articulate sigh. Similar to this, and very significant to those who 
 remember his love for the rolling waters, is his regret that "there is no 
 sea here, so I am forced to dip into books ! " There is a melancholy 
 humour, too, in his wish to be two or three children, and the description of 
 his ability to stick himself into a prickle, instead of its being vice versd. I 
 need hardly call attention to the graphic and laughable touches — such as 
 the comparison of "catching flat fish "to " swimming a kite " — the recipe 
 for calming the sea with salad oil— or the grave assertion that the " large 
 white birds, with black-tipped wings," didn't mind being called "gulls." 
 — T. H.
 
 I 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 421 
 
 cold punch, at such a notorious feasting-place as Blackwall 
 (after a glimpse too of Greenwich Hospital-ity), that I shall 
 be sure to meet you at 3 o'clock. T was going to say 
 amongst the pensioners, but as yet I only know the pen 
 part of it. Love to all. 
 
 Yours ever and ever, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 I have had a little more spinning material in me, the last 
 few days, and have nearly done three chapters ; but you 
 needn't tell Sir Robert.* 
 
 After a stay of two months at Blackheath, which certainly 
 restored his health wonderfully for a time, my father re- 
 turned to London. When there, he found that his friend 
 Phillips, who had been selected as the tutor of the son of the 
 
 Marquis of , and was staying at Brighton, had been run 
 
 away with, and thrown, while out riding. Mr. Phillips was 
 a fellow-sufferer with my father, and was subject to hsemo- 
 rrhage of the lungs. He had written some German stories for 
 the Magazine, one of them about a water spirit, or Neck, to 
 which allusion is made, as well as to his poem, " The Husk 
 and the Grain." 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, New Finchley Road. 
 
 My dear Phillips, 
 
 What the devil do you mean 1 Have you no con- 
 cern for the nerves of editors — the nourishment of magazine 
 readers? It may be horse-play to you but death to us. 
 What business had you in the saddle at all ? Have I not 
 said in print, that sedentary persons have never a good seat? 
 
 * It appears from this letter that my father had had some intimation at 
 this time of the possibility of his receiving a pension. — T. IL
 
 422 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Is it not notorious that authors from Coleridge down to 
 Poole are bad riders 1 And you must go proving it again 
 by being run away with; not by vanity, in a very writer- 
 like way, but by the brute quadruped, never well pick-a- 
 backed by seamen and the literati. Do you want a hole in 
 your head as well as in your lungs 1 And are you not con- 
 tented with the I^^ecJc, crying "lost, lost," but you must 
 break your own 1 Is your head no better than a common 
 pumpkin, that you must go pitching on it, and grazing the 
 " dome of thought and palace of the soul V I think I see 
 you getting up — not content with expectorating blood — 
 spitting mud ! And, plague take you, all through trotting 
 on an earthly roadster, when you might have been soaring 
 so celestially on Pegasus, after his feed of "husk and gi'ain." 
 Do you really expect, though you die of riding, that you 
 will get an equestrian statue for it at Traftilgar Square, 
 Cockspur Street, or in front of the new Exchange ] Not a 
 bronze pony ! Nor will you get a shilling a sheet the more 
 from " Hood's " or " Blackwood's," no, nor from any of the 
 Sporting Magazines, for going at a gate without hounds or 
 fox ! And a father too, with a baby and a boy, and a young 
 lord to bring up ! And a friend, with such friends as a 
 
 B , a S , and a Hood, and all the P s, to expose 
 
 himself to be kicked out of such society by a hoof. Oh ! 
 Philippus, you deserve a Philippic— and here it is ! Seri- 
 ously, I am glad you escaped, and hope " you will not do so 
 any more." If you must run risks, do it as I do, on two 
 legs, and at a walk — for such invalids, a damp clothes-horse 
 is danger enough — or if you imist go pick-a-back, get ac- 
 quainted with some sheriff that can lend you a quiet nag. 
 
 I am come back here from Vanbrugh House for good — 
 much better; and have resumed the driving of the Maga- 
 zine. I am soiTy to have had the last of the '* Sea side
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 423 
 
 Lore :** but your beautiful poem was some consclation. It 
 has been much admired by my friends. Don't get too 
 proud with your Marchionesses for the Muses. My bust is 
 modelled and cast. It is said to be a correct likeness : two 
 parts Methodist, to one of Humourist, and quite recognisable 
 in spite of the Hood all ov^r the face. 
 
 To-morrow I take a trip to Calais, for a day only, with 
 Fanny, for the sake of the voyage and sea air. We are a 
 brace in need of bracing, as you know. If 1 can catch a sea- 
 horse, I will, for you to ride in the Race of Portland. Ward 
 accompanies to edit the main sheet, and return the whole 
 Packet if unsuitable. I only hope he won't be sick without 
 " Notice to Correspondents." 
 
 Pray for us, and for peace ; for if a war breaks out while 
 we are there, the Magazine will be as bad as blown up, and 
 I might as well be cased full-length, in plaster of Paris. 
 
 By-the-bye, have you read the " Mysteries of Paris 1 " 
 Very bad ! Or the " Amber Witch," which is very good 1 
 Or do you read nothing but Burke and Debrett to the young 
 Peerage 1 Do you like my novel 1 or do you prefer Rook- 
 wood for the sake of the ride to York 1 advertises 
 
 " Revelations of London," in imitation of the Parisian mys- 
 teries, of course ! Won't they be very full of the slang of 
 the Rookery 1 The mere idea gives me the Back Slum- 
 hago ! 
 
 Write soon, and tell me how you like your new position, 
 and how you live. Aristocratically enough I guess, and 
 spitting nothing under high blood. Your stomach a mere 
 game bag, or pot for the preserves, eh 1 And some fine day 
 you will come and triumph over us with your corpulence, 
 and " Phillips me like a three-man beadle." For you drink 
 the choicest of wines, of course— -your smallest beer old 
 double X ale. What a change for an author ! And then
 
 424 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 you lie T warrant in a down bed, with such sheets ! every 
 one equal to forty-eight pages of superfine cambric, margined 
 with lace and hot-pressed with a silver warming-pan ! Never- 
 theless, come some day and see us — some day when you are 
 ordered to live very low, and then perhaps our best holiday 
 diet may be good enough for you. We are very poor and 
 liave only seventy-two thousand a-year (pence mind, not 
 pounds), and our names not even in the Post-office Directory, 
 much less the Court Guide ! 
 
 Well, if it isn't too great a liberty, God bless you ! Mrs. 
 Hood hopes you will forgive her offering her kind regards ; 
 and Fanny and Tom presume to join in the same. And if 
 you would condescend to present my kind regards and 
 respects to Mr. S , it would exceedingly oblige, 
 
 Dear Phillips, 
 
 Yours very truly, and hoping no offence, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 The following letter was written to the secretaries of the 
 Manchester Athenaeum, in answer to one from them con- 
 veying an invitation to a soiree at that institution. 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, New Finchlby Road, St. John's Wood, 
 
 October 1, 1844. 
 
 Dear Sirs, 
 
 I should sooner have answered your obliging letter, 
 
 and the flattering invitation which it conveyed, but my state 
 
 was so precarious, that it seemed presumptuous, without a 
 
 morning certain in September, to speculate on a soii-ee in 
 
 October. It would indeed afford me very great pleasure to 
 
 be at the meeting on the 3rd, but really I have not "man" or 
 
 "chest" enough for Manchester; and as for Mr. Disraeli, might 
 
 as well hope for an introduction to Ben Ledi or Ben Nevis !
 
 MEMORIALS OF TEOMAS HOOD. 426 
 
 For me all long journeys, save one, are over. Recent expe- 
 rimental trips have shown that I am barely equal to water- 
 carriage, and then "with care," like brittle glass or frail 
 crockery. No slight hardship, while steam and rail afford 
 such facilities for locomotion, to be compelled to renounce 
 travelling ! — to be incapable of physical activity just when 
 young England is promising parochial May-poles and county 
 Cricket. The truth is, I am a confirmed invalid, and almost 
 set in for still-life — a condition irksome enough, and which 
 would be intolerable but for the comfort and consolation I 
 derive from the diversions of authorship and the blessed 
 springs of Literature. 
 
 Fortunately the head — that has a mind to it — may travel 
 without those pantings which beset spasmodic lungs ; the 
 thoughts can expatiate without such palpitations as result 
 from the excursions of the legs. Forbidden to walk, there 
 is the run of the library; but I have already described the 
 advantages of books and reading, by help of which even the 
 bed-ridden may enjoy a wider range than Captain Warner's. 
 Suffice it, that experience and suffering have confirmed my 
 former views, that, if anything could aggravate the evil of 
 becoming what the Scotch call " a puir silly body," it must 
 be a poor silly mind, incapable of wholesome exercise, 
 without appetite for intellectual food, or the power of 
 digesting it. 
 
 And, as age and accidents to the human machinery will 
 impair the strongest horse-power of health, whilst the fairest 
 mercantile endeavour may fail to secure a fortune, I would 
 earnestly forewarn all persons within reach of my counsel — 
 especially the young — to provide against such contingencies 
 by the timely cultivation and enrichment of that divine 
 allotment, which it depends on ourselves to render a flower- 
 giirden or a dead waste — a pleasure-ground visited by the
 
 426 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Graces and frequented by the fairies, or a wilderness haunted 
 by Satyrs. 
 
 But I need not dwell longer on these topics. You will 
 have a chairman,* who, inspired by his father's spirit, will 
 discourse so eloquently of the pursuits and amenities of 
 literature, and the advantages of the Athengeum, that every 
 .eg in the hall will become a member. In brighter colours 
 than mine, he will paint, to the "new generation" of your 
 busy city, the wholesome recreation to be derived from 
 Science and Art — the instruction and amusement to be 
 gained from works of Philosophy and Poetry, of History, 
 Biography, and Travels ; and last, not least, the infinite 
 relief, amidst commercial occupations, of alternating matters 
 of Fiction and Factory. 
 
 Pray accept my warmest wishes for the success of your 
 soiree, and the permanent prosperity of your institution, and 
 
 Believe me, dear Sirs, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 The Honorary Secretaries, 
 Soirde Committee. 
 
 In this month, October, my mother is again the sad 
 chronicler of illness and hard work. She says in a letter to 
 M. de Franck : — 
 
 " He is now in the midst of work for the Magazine; he 
 only last week resumed the labour of it — a friend did it for 
 him, as he was forbidden even to write, though he did break 
 through the injunction. He was more seriously ill than 
 ever I saw him, — for three weeks in extreme danger, three 
 physicians attending. Dr. Elliot came daily ten miles to 
 see him, which, we feel, was an extraordinary act of friend- 
 
 * Mr. Disraeli occupied the chair at the noirSe.
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 427 
 
 ship, with his extensive practice in his own neighbourhood. 
 Hood suffered dreadfully from spasmodic shortness of breath, 
 and the doctors are astonished at his recovery; but he is 
 sadly shaken and reduced in strength. He went to Black- 
 heath for two months when he was well enough for removal 
 from home, and returned here about a month or six weeks 
 ago. We fear the clay soil of this neighbourhood does not 
 agree with him, and that we must move again, which we are 
 sorry for, as we have a very pretty house, and took it for 
 three years from last Christmas. We are trying to let it, 
 but it is a bad time of year; if we succeed in getting rid 
 ol it, we think of going into London for the winter, to be 
 nearer the Doctor in case Hood should be ill again : indeed, 
 I am sorry to say he is never well now — unable to walk the 
 shortest distance without suffering, and feeling every change 
 of weather. Last autumn (I mean 1843) he went to Edin- 
 burgh for a fortnight. Since he returned from Blackheath 
 in September, he went over to Calais by one packet and 
 returned by the next, taking Fanny with him ; but it was 
 too much fatigue, and he was not well after it." 
 
 To this letter my f;ither adds one of his little cheerful 
 postscripts : — 
 
 Dear Johnny, 
 
 " Jack's alive ! " Three doctors could not kill me, 
 so I may live a year or two. But I almost went a-fishing in 
 Lethe for forgotten fishes. You talk of my excess ! Why, 
 I am hardly allowed table-beer and water, and never go out 
 to balls ! Now you are in the "John d'armes," you ought 
 to come and take a lesson of our new police, who are almost 
 as military as yours, and more civil I suspect. If you want 
 a job, you shall mount guard at my Magazine and fight all 
 my duels. Editors get into them now and then. I will
 
 428 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 write to the Prince. Tom says he should so like to see you 
 
 in green and gold,* you must be so like a beetle ! 
 * * * * 
 
 The ensuing letter was written to Sir E. Buhver Lytton, 
 
 who contributed " The Death of Clytemnestra," a Dramatic 
 
 Sketch, to the November number of the Magazine. 
 
 Devonshire Lodgb, October 30fA. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 By the same post which brings this you will re- 
 ceive a copy of the Magazine. 
 
 I cannot say how vexed I have been to find when too late 
 that you had expressed a particular wish for a proof. The 
 article only reached me in print on Friday evening, with a 
 memorandum oa the MS., which led me to suppose that 
 being unwell, you confided the correction to myself or Mr. 
 Ward ; and having carefully compared the sheet with the 
 MS., I sent it to press, the holiday on Monday urging me to 
 put forward the printing. I earnestly hope you will find no 
 error of any consequence ; and there was no addition needed 
 to a dramatic sketch, which must make the reading public 
 in general feel more interest in the Greek Hamlet, than they 
 commonly do in classic subjects. 
 
 I need not say how highly I estimate such a token of 
 your great kindness and consideration; the more so, remem- 
 bering your state of health and probable disinclination to 
 literary occupation, with which my own experience made me 
 sympathise so strongly that I have several times been on the 
 point of writing to request you to dismiss the matter alto- 
 gether from your mind till a fitter season, lest the mere heat 
 of composition and the feverishness of an untimely task, 
 should mull the cold water cure. 
 
 • Mr. Franck had now got an appointment in the Gens d'Armerie, or 
 Coast Guard, and sent my father a sketch of his uniform. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 429 
 
 Pray accept my heartfelt thanks for this and the great 
 interest you have otherwise taken in my behalf, I can 
 accept kindness from literary men, as from relations, which 
 I could not take from others, not endeared to me by admi- 
 ration, respect, community of pursuit, and that mental 
 intimacy which far transcends mere personal acquaintance, 
 and makes a name " a household word." 
 
 If it be true, as I have understood, that you have takeu 
 leave of authorship, I shall reckon it no light honour to 
 have had your last words in my magazine : — the last act of 
 your pen being devoted to a kindly and consistent purpose. 
 But I am not selfish enough to desire it at the expense of so 
 wide a circle as your readers. I will not formally wish that 
 you may write again for the world, knowing that you will 
 not be able to help it any more than the flow of the tide, 
 should mental or moral impulse urge you to work out some 
 beautiful fiction, illustrate some great principle, or advocate 
 some good cause. But in any case you have richly earned 
 that dignified leisure, with all its delights, which no one 
 (fishes you more abundantly or fervently than, 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your most obliged and grateful sei-vant, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 I resumed the management of the " Magazine " last 
 mouth, from which you may conclude that I am better — as 
 well probably as I ever can be, from the nature of my com- 
 plaints. It is not well, perhaps, for me to work so much, 
 but, besides the necessity for exertion from long habit, my 
 mind refuses to be passive, and seems the more restless from 
 my inability to exert much bodily activity. I sleep little, 
 and my head, instead of a shady chamber, is like a hall with
 
 430 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 a lamp burning in it all night. And so it will be to the 
 end. I must "die in harness" like a Hero, — or a horse. 
 Sir £. B. Lytion, Bart. 
 
 The Magazine had been published four months (since 
 April or May) at Mr. Renshaw's in the Strand, where it 
 figured among the medical books, which were in Mr. Renshaw's 
 usual line. In the November number appeared " The Lay 
 of the Labourer." In the Spring of the year GifFord White, 
 a labourer, aged eighteen, was sentenced (pleading guilty) 
 for sending a threatening letter to the Farmers of Bluntisham, 
 Hunts — to Transportation for Life ! 
 
 I am able to attest to the earnestness of this appeal. 
 
 From the beginning of the year a paper, containing an 
 
 epitome of this case, had stood in a prominent position, in 
 
 fact the most prominent, on the mantelpiece of my father's 
 
 study; and I have often heard him refer to it, and speak to 
 
 his friends of the actual ' haunting ' of the spirit of that 
 
 unhappy living victim of a panic. I can perfectly recall the 
 
 impression which the reiterated statement of this fact made 
 
 upon me; and I feel convinced that the Phantom spoken of 
 
 (those who choose may attribute it to the state of my father's 
 
 health) was as really impressed on the brain as if it had been 
 
 actually transmitted by the retina of the eye. The appeal, I 
 
 regret to say, failed to do more than draw out a few inches of 
 
 red tape by way of reply, and I know that my father, who was 
 
 very sensitive on these points, was pained to think that he 
 
 had adopted a course so unusual to him with so little 
 
 benefit to those, for whom he had violated a rule of conduct, 
 
 that he had long strictly adhered to. 
 
 November 3, 1844. 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 Many thanks for your congratulations. I know you 
 
 would not say that you like the paper on the " Labourers "
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 431 
 
 as a mere compliment, which makes your opinion worth a 
 hundi'ed criticisms. I hope it will do good to all parties, to 
 me among the rest, to be very candid — for I am a Labourer 
 too. I do not think that I have been so exhausted, as I 
 expected to have been, in proportion to my work. 
 
 I had not seen Ward since our trip to Calais till we met 
 at Renshaw's, on the day of the Queen's Procession to the 
 City. I concluded that he was very busy in his new abode, 
 as he has been, with bricklayers, (kc, and did not therefore 
 expect any help from him. 
 I am, 
 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, Saturday, Nov. 1844. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Elliot, 
 
 I feel so much pleasure in youi* pleasure, and there- 
 fore am so well pleased in pleasing you both, that I could 
 not but be delighted with your kind note. If all who read 
 the paper would but feel it as you do, my object would be 
 gained. 
 
 It was written in very serious earnest, — the case having 
 made the strong impression on me I have described. My 
 hope is that the " Times " will take up the subject ; I have 
 sent a copy, through a mutual friend, to the Editors, also a 
 copy to Sir J. Graham, who has sent me a formal acknow- 
 ledgment of the receipt. I fear he will do no more; they 
 say he is a cold, hard man, bigoted to the New Poor Law. 
 
 Yoiu* friendly inference as to my comparative vigour is 
 correct. I am better than could have been expected from 
 the fag of two mouths, and, this one, have done more than 
 usual. And next number is to be a sort of " Comic Annual "
 
 432 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 number, with cuts for Christmas. So that I have plenty of 
 work cut out. I may come one day to Stratford, to dine 
 
 with the H 's, if I get on well, in which case you will see 
 
 us of course. In the meantime kiss dear May and Jeanie 
 for me, and give my love to Dunnie, and tell him the monkey 
 is very well, but rather chilly; and Tom is military mad, 
 playing with soldiers. Fanny much better for her medicine, 
 for which pray thank the Doctor, and don't " wish him the 
 same." 
 
 Jane, and all, unite in love to you, wholesale and retail, 
 with 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 About this time, aware of the shattered state of my father's 
 health, and the great uncertainty of what might occur from 
 further serious attacks of his disease, several of my father's 
 friends exerted themselves to place his claims, as a literary 
 man, before the government, as grounds for the grant of a 
 pension. 
 
 By these means, not only a future provision was secured 
 in the event of his death to those dearest to him, but 
 — what was still more important — by this assistance, he 
 would be able to relax his constant and harassing exer- 
 tions. 
 
 There would then be grounds for hope that his life might 
 be spared. As far back as 1840, Dr. Elliot had given it as 
 his opinion that perfect rest was necessary, and after the 
 interval of four more years of still greater toil and mental 
 anxiety, the urgency of the case was increased tenfold. Dr. 
 Elliot's letter was, I believe, the "basis upon which my 
 father's friends urged their application, and it was to the 
 following effect : —
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 4S8 
 
 Stratford, May 11, 1840. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Hood, 
 
 It is most necessary and right that you should be 
 correctly informed as to the state of health of your husband. 
 I hope the following statement will tend to lessen, in some 
 degree, your great anxiety regarding him, — for though I 
 cannot give you assurance of health or safety, yet instead of 
 the vague and constant apprehension of great danger, with 
 which you are impressed by anxious watching of his alarm- 
 ing symptoms, I can substitute a more accurate knowledge 
 of his disease, and the sources whence danger is to be appre- 
 hended, and (as a necessary result) of the preventive mea- 
 sures, which, if they are happily within your reach, may be 
 the means of restoring him, if not to perfect health, yet to a 
 degree of comfort, and freedom from actual suffering, to 
 which he has long been a stranger. 
 
 Your husband is suffering from organic disease of the 
 heart, — an enlargement and thickening of it, — with contrac- 
 tion of the valves, and from haemorrhage from the lungs, or 
 spitting of blood, recurring very frequently. There is also 
 disorder of the liver and stomach. These diseases have been 
 greatly aggravated of late years by the nature of his pur- 
 suits, by the necessity, which, I understand, has existed, that 
 he should at all times continue his literary labours, being 
 under engagements to complete certain works within a stated 
 period. The great and continued excitement attendant on 
 such compulsory efforts, the privation of sleep and rest 
 thereby entailed on him, and the consequent anxiety, de- 
 pression, and exhaustion have had a most injurious effect on 
 these diseases, bringing on renewed attacks, and reducing 
 him to such a state that he has been rendered utterly in- 
 cai)able of mental effort. The conviction, that literary effor< 
 VOL. X. 23
 
 434 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 is necessary and urgent, renders the efibrt fruitless. You 
 must have remarked how generally these dangerous attacks 
 have commenced at a period preceding the publication of his 
 books; you have seen him break down under the struggle, 
 and reduced to the brink of the grave by repeated attacks of 
 haemorrhage from the lungs, attended by palpitation of the 
 heart. 
 
 The statement of these facts points out to you that his 
 attacks of disease are caused, or aggravated, in a peculiar 
 degree, by anxiety, and depression of mind. If he could be 
 placed in such circumstances that he would not be com- 
 pelled to woi'k at times, when he, from attacks of disease, is 
 really incapable of mental exertion, he might be saved from 
 these attacks, or his recovery would be more speedy, and 
 certain, and he would be capable of a greater amount of 
 mental labour. On the other hand, so long as he continues 
 borne down by an overpowering sense of the necessity of 
 exertion, under the greatest degree of incapability, so long 
 will he be liable to these very dangerous attacks. 
 
 During the last two months he has been in my house, 
 suffering in the manner now described, and he has been bo 
 much reduced in strength by haemorrhage lasting for several 
 weeks, by venesection, and by other remedial means, that he 
 has been unable, for many days in succession, to leave his 
 bed. Of course he has been most strictly prohibited from 
 attempting any literary composition. He has been in great 
 danger. I will not at present trouble you with a detail of 
 the remedial means to be pursued, as they fall directly under 
 my personal guidance. 
 
 I remain, dear Mrs. Hood, 
 
 Very truly your Friend, 
 
 W. Elliot.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 436 
 
 The foregoing painful but powerful description of my 
 father's sufferings was strictly true, as seen by most skilful 
 and affectionate eyes. The alleviations he then (long ago !) 
 suggested, had, from stem necessity, been fouud impossible. 
 So long as my father dragged on his lingering life, so long it 
 seemed to be inevitably and sternly foredoomed to hard and 
 incessant toil. 
 
 At the end of 1844, however, his disease seemed to 
 have reached a serious crisis, and it was then felt some 
 effort was necessary. Accordingly many kind and zealous 
 friends interested themselves, and even personal strangers 
 came forwai-d to aid the project. Among others may be 
 mentioned the late Earl of Eilesmere (then Lord F. Egerton), 
 the late Lord Wharncliffe, Lord Houghton (then Mr. R. 
 Monckton Jklilnes), Mr. F. 0. Wai'd, and several others, 
 *vhose names I cannot now trace. A semi-ofl&cial notice 
 was sent to my father desiring him to name either of his 
 female relatives, on whom a pension might be conferred, as 
 his own life was so very precarious. My father accordingly 
 sent my mother's name. 
 
 I cannot find a clear copy of his lettex*, but from a 
 sketch of it, I think the following must be substantially 
 correct. 
 
 November, 1844. 
 Sir, 
 
 In your comparative leisure at Brighton, if a 
 Prime Minister has even comparative leisure, you may find 
 time to accept and taste the grateful acknowledgments of 
 one, whom you have served from motives rarely attributed 
 to such Patrons. 
 
 Complaints have been often made of the neglect of lite- 
 rature and literary men by the state and its ministers. I 
 have joined in them myself, but with reference to authors
 
 436 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 in general — I am quite aware of my own unfitness for any 
 of those posts alluded to by Mr. Smythe in his speech, 
 especially for those official employments, which, if I had any 
 ambition that way, I should be physically unable to fulfil. 
 Almost too thiu to represent myself, I should make a very 
 indifferent ambassador, consul, or attache. You may there- 
 fore rely, Sir, on my entertaining no such gratitude for 
 " favours to come." 
 
 Such impressions have occasionally received confirmation 
 from unlucky oversights, such as I presume to have caused 
 the omission, of " Literature " from the Queen's answer to 
 the Civic addi-ess, in which it was inserted. An unlucky 
 omission I presume to say ; for whatever differences may 
 obtain in society, that will be an unlucky one which dis- 
 tinguishes a sovereign from a reading public, rapidly becom- 
 ing a reading people. 
 
 As an Author I cannot but think it a good omen for the 
 cause, that this mark of your favour has fallen on a writer 
 so totally unconnected with party politics as myself, whose 
 favourite theory of Government is, " An Angel from Heaven, 
 and a Despotism." 
 
 As a Man, I am deeply sensible of a consideration and 
 kindness, which have made this " work-a-day " world more 
 park-like to me, as well as to the people of Manchester, and 
 will render the poor remnant of my life much happier, and 
 easier, than it could be with the prospect that was before 
 me. 
 
 My humble name has sufiiciently occupied your thoughts 
 already, yet may it, with its pleasanter associations recur to 
 you, whenever you meet with a discontented partisan, or 
 political ingrate ! 
 
 Lord F. Egerton having kindly offered to convey my 
 acceptance and choice to you, I have forwarded them, but
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 437 
 
 could not resist the direct expressiou of my sentiments 
 as to a " Premier pas''' which, instead of "costing," enriches 
 me. 
 
 I have the honour to be, (fee, to,. 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 To THE Right Hok, Sir Robert Peel, Bart. 
 
 Sir Robert Peel acknowledged this, in the following 
 gratifying and kind maimer. The formal official announce- 
 ment came soon after. 
 
 Brighton, November 10, 1844. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I am more than repaid by the personal satisfaction 
 that I have had in doing that, for which you return me 
 warm and characteristic acknowledgments. 
 
 You perhaps think that you are known to one, with sucu mul- 
 tifarious occupations as myself, merely by general reputation 
 as an author ; but I assure you that there can be little, which 
 you have written and acknowledged, which I have not read ; 
 and that there are few, who can appreciate and admire more 
 than myself, the good sense and good feeling, which have 
 taught you to infuse so much fun and merriment into 
 writings correcting folly, and exposing absurdities, and yet 
 never trespassing beyond those limits, within which wit and 
 facetiousness are not very often confined. You may write 
 on with the consciousness of independence, as free and un- 
 fettered, as if no communication had ever passed between 
 us. I am not conferring a private obligation upon you, but 
 am fulfilling the intentions of the Legislature, which has 
 placed at the disposal of the Crown a certain sum (miserable, 
 indeed, in amouut) to be applied to the recognition of public 
 claims on the bounty of the Crown. If you will review the 
 names of those, whose claims have been admitted on account
 
 >138 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 of their literary or scientific eminence, you will find an 
 ample confirmation of the truth of my statement. 
 
 One return, indeed, I shall ask of you, — that you ^\ dl give 
 me the opportunity of making your personal acquaintance. 
 
 Believe me to be, 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 Robert Peel 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, November 12. 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 I send you copies of my letter to Sir R. Peel, and 
 
 his very kind reply just come to hand. It is very gratifying 
 
 indeed. I wrote to Lord F. Egerton, but think the Premier 
 
 had not yet seen it ; as, through our post irregularity, it 
 
 would not get to Lord E. perhaps till to-day. Ward was to 
 
 have dined here with us yesterday, but he had forgotten a 
 
 previous engagement, and did not come. But he was up 
 
 here on Saturday night. 
 
 Now I have got the ear of the Premier, what can I do for 
 you 1 Should you like to be Physician to the Forces ? 
 
 I am soiTy that this cannot go to-night, as it is past eight, 
 for you will be pleased, and I wish it were sooner, after aU 
 my less agreeable communications. 
 
 God bless you all. We join in love to you. 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 We have sold twenty more copies of the Magazine this 
 month. There was a capital notice in the " League," on 
 Saturday, which circulates 28,000. The effect of it, 'tis yet 
 too soon to feel. 
 
 The official notification of the pension arrived later, and 
 ran as follows : —
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 439 
 
 Whitehall, Ncmemher 16, 1844. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I have the satisfaction of acquainting you that the 
 Queen has approved of my proposal to Her Majesty, that a 
 pension of one hundred pounds per annum for her life should 
 be granted to Mrs. Hood, on the grounds mentioned in my 
 former communication to you. 
 
 I have the honour to be, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 Egbert Peel. 
 
 This grant will take effect from June last. 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, Monday Morning, Nov. 17, 1844. 
 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 Sir R Peel came up from Burleigh on Tuesday 
 
 night, and went dowu to Brighton on Saturday. If he had 
 
 written by post I should not have had it till to-day. So he 
 
 sent his servant with the following on Saturday night, 
 
 another mark of considerate attention. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 wanted to write to Sir R. Peel for permission to 
 
 publish his former letter, but I wrote and begged him not — 
 it was obviously a private letter ; and though Sir R. might 
 not refuse, he would take care not to write to me again if I 
 merely used him as a puffing advertisement. 
 
 The " Labourer " has made a great hit, and gone through 
 most of the papers like the " Song of the Shirt." I think it 
 will tell in the sale at the end of the year. I have been 
 very unwell. One day, Jane says, I looked quite green. T 
 don't wonder, there has been so much wet, and I observe all
 
 440 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 the compo-ornamental part of the houses, finished here only 
 in autumn, has turned green too. But my well is not dry. 
 I have pumped out a sheet already of Christmas fun, am 
 drawing some cuts, and shall write a sheet more of my 
 novel. 
 
 God bless you alL 
 
 Yours ever truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 My father wrote immediately to acknowledge Sir Robert's 
 letter and thoughtful attention, in the following letter : — 
 
 November, 1844, 
 
 Sib, * 
 
 I have to acknowledge the receipt of your very 
 gratifying communication and the considerate kindness which 
 provided for my receiving it on Saturday night. If it be 
 well to be remembered at all by a Minister, it is better still 
 not to be forgotten by him in a " hurly Burleigh ! " 
 
 I am so inexperienced a pensioner (unlike the father of a 
 friend of mine, who was made in his infancy a superannuated 
 postman), as to be quite ignorant of the etiquette of such 
 cases ; but, in the absence of knowledge, I feel that it would 
 be quite proper to thank the Queen for her gracious approval. 
 May I request of your goodness, at a fit opportunity, to lay 
 my humble and grateful acknowledgments at Her Majesty's 
 feet, with the respectful assurance, that a man, who has 
 lived conscious of his good name being the better part of 
 his children's inheritance, will never disgrace the royal 
 favour. 
 
 Your letter of the 10th inst,, which is deposited amongst 
 my literary heir-looms, I hesitated to answer, partly because 
 it gave rise to feelings which would keep without congealing, 
 
 I
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 441 
 
 and partly from knowing editorially, the oppression of too 
 many " Communications from Correspondents." But I may 
 say here how extremely flattered I am by your liberal praise 
 and handsome judgment of my writings ; nearly all of 
 which you must have seen, if you have read the acknow- 
 ledged ones. The anonymous only comprise a few trifles 
 and reviews ; and even against these, as a set-ofij I have had 
 my name afiixed to some pieces I had not written, for 
 example a poem on the Sale of the Stud of the late King 
 William. 
 
 As you have done me the high honour to seek, beyond 
 this, my personal acquaintance, I can only say, I shall be 
 most proud and happy to have the pleasure of waiting on 
 you at your convenience. 
 
 I have the honour to be, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Your most obedient servant, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 November 23. 
 Dear Doctor, 
 
 I took last night nearly a glass of wine in some 
 
 gruel, which, with a good deal of sleep, has revived me. 
 
 My head is clear (to begin with the author's index) ; the 
 
 fever heat is gone — so are the musicals — the whistlings 
 
 and wheezings; and I cough seldom. Heart quite quiet ; 
 
 this time it seems to have been blameless. On the whole, 
 
 more comfortable than for some time while the attack was 
 
 breeding. 
 
 I heard the other day the following fact — very creditable 
 
 to the humbler class of readers. Holywell Street, Strand, 
 
 is the head-q^uarters for cheap, blasphemous, and obscene
 
 442 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 publications, including the French. The chief man there is 
 
 one , but who has besides a naore legitimate trade in 
 
 distributing the periodicals among the minor dealers. To 
 engage his services in this line, the proprietor of the 
 
 " N T ," just starting, called on him, when 
 
 asked if it was to be respectable (i. e. not immoral), as other- 
 wise he would have nothing to do with it : they had tried 
 the other line, but it did not answer — it did not take. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 lUE OKKilAN DWAKI'J.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 443 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 1845. 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, New Finchley Road — Letter to Mr. Broderip — Confined 
 to his Bed by accumulating Illnesses — The Bust and Portrait — His last 
 Stanzas — His last Letter, addressed to Sir R. Peel — Sir R. Peel's 
 Answer — His Last Illness — Great Kindness and Attention from 
 Strangers as well as Friends — His Patience — His Religious Senti- 
 ments—Given over by his Physicians — His Sufferings during his Final 
 Attack— His Death— His Funeral— His ^Yill. 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, New Finchley Road, St. John's "Wood, 
 
 Saturday (in bed). 
 
 My dear Sib, 
 
 I ought to have sooner acknowledged the receipt 
 of your note, with an explanation of the cause of the errors 
 you alluded to. The truth is, though it may seem very 
 inconsistent with my doings in the Magazine, for the last 
 two months (say from the 15th November) I have been 
 confined to my bed, and obliged to trust more than usual to 
 the printers. You will easily, however, understand that 
 with a young periodical, and the interest of another pro- 
 prietor at stake, there are efforts that I must make — even 
 though bed- ridden ; and alas, that too many things must 
 go undone ! 
 
 I shall still hope some day to have the pleasure of making 
 
 your personal acquaintance, if I get " taken up " before you 
 
 on purpose, and am. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Thos. Hood. 
 
 W. J. Broderip, Esq., 
 
 Bow Street Police OflBce.
 
 444 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 The Christmas number of the Magazine came out, spai'k- 
 ling with fun and merriment. " Mrs. Peck's Pudding," and 
 its grotesque ilhistrations, afforded seasonable Christmas 
 amusement at all firesides but its author's. His own family 
 never enjoyed his quaint and humourous fancies, for they 
 were all associated with memories of illness and anxiety. 
 Although Hood's " Comic Annual," as he himself used to 
 remark with pleasure, was in every house seized upon, and 
 almost worn out by the frequent handling of little fingers, 
 his own children did not enjoy it till the lapse of many years 
 had mercifully softened down some of the sad recollections 
 connected with it The only article that I can remember 
 we ever really thoroughly relished, was " Mrs. Gardiner,* a 
 Horticultural llomance," and even this was composed in 
 bed. But the illness he was then suffering from was only 
 rheumatic fever, and not one of his dangerous attacks, and 
 he was unusually cheerful. He sat up in bed, dictating it 
 to my mother, interrupted by our bursts of iiTepressible 
 laughter, as joke after joke came from his lips, he all the 
 while laughing and relishing it as much as we did. But 
 this was a rare — indeed almost solitary — instance ; for he 
 could not usually write so well at any time as at night, when 
 all the house was quiet. Our family rejoicings were gene- 
 rally when the work was over, and we were too thankful to 
 be rid of the harass and hurry, to care much for the results 
 of such labour. 
 
 At the time of this last Christmas — a memorable one to 
 us — my father, having painfully and laboriously finished his 
 
 • Another reason why this (which I still believe to be my father's most 
 humourous production) was so interesting to us was, that the heroine was a 
 
 ludicrous pen-and-ink portrait of Mrs. R , with whom we lodged in 
 
 Elm Tree Eoad. Hers was the " large and personal love " for flowers, 
 which spoke of them as living beings, and identified her even with her 
 garden implements. — T. H.
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 445 
 
 allotted task, took to bis bed, from which he was never 
 more to arise, except as a mere teniporaiy refreshment to 
 sit up in an easj-chair, propped by pillows and wrapped 
 in blankets. On Christmas Day he crawled out, for our 
 sakes more than his own, into a little dressing-room next 
 to his bed-room for a few hours ; but it was a painful 
 mockery of enjoyment. The cheerful spirit that had 
 struggled so long and so bravely with adverse circumstances 
 and complicated diseases, was quelled at last ; and he 
 scarcely attempted to appear cheerful. I think at this time 
 he first realised — not the certain ultimate issue of his 
 illness, because this he had long known to be mortal, and 
 only a question of a few years — but the actual presence of 
 a certain and near death. Now he saw that a few months 
 — probably a few weeks — must end his labours and suiFer- 
 ings, and his life with them. Tliis he could not but feel 
 keenly, when he saw that this was the last Christmas we 
 were all to share in this world. 
 
 A letter from my mother to Dr. Elliot, dated the 28th of 
 December (1844), speaks of his continued and increasing 
 illness, now accompanied by faintness and shortness of breath 
 Even then his spirits seemed to have rallied, for in a note 
 added to my mother's description of his sufferings, he says : 
 *' I do not cough much, and the breath is easier, but I am 
 exhausted, and in want of sleep, and almost seem to have 
 what the man called * Comus Virgilius.' " My poor mother 
 added : " I fear, my dear Doctor, that Hood is very ill ; he 
 cannot eat ; he will not take wine — it makes him cough. I 
 am afraid of giving you trouble by saying all this, but you 
 know his state better than I can, and he seems always better 
 when you come. I shall feel sure I am mistaken in thinking 
 him so ill, if you don't come ; and I entreat you not to do 
 so if I am too anxious, which cannot be wondered at, so
 
 446 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 much as my nerves are tried by always being with him 
 alone." 
 
 After this he rallied a little once more, or rather roused 
 up at the call for the next number of the Magazine. He 
 never left his bed again, but had intervals comparatively 
 free from his most distressing symptoms. He wrote, propped 
 up in bed, for this number two more chapters of "Our 
 Family," (one of his best works, unfinished, alas ! but con- 
 taining a character of great humour. Catechism Jack) ; " A 
 Letter from the Cape," " Domestic Mesmerism," a review of 
 "The Chimes," and an "Echo" of two pages, besides 
 drawing numerous cuts for tail-pieces, &c. 
 
 The " Echo " describes his sitting for his bust to Mr. 
 Edward Davis. I have quoted it entire. 
 
 " Some months since, Mr. Edward Davis, the well-known 
 sculptor, applied to me to sit to him for a bust. My vanity 
 readily complied with the request ; and in due time I found 
 myself in his studio, installed in a crimson-covered elbow- 
 chair, amidst an assemblage of heads, hard and soft, white, 
 drab, and stone colour. Here a young nobleman, one of the 
 handsomest of the day, in painted plaster ; there a bene- 
 volent-looking bishop in clear white sparkling marble, next 
 to a brown clay head, like Refined and Moist. A number of 
 unfinished models, of what Beau Brummel would have 
 called * damp strangers,' were tied up in wet cloths, from 
 which every moment you expected to hear a sneeze ; the 
 veiled ones comprising a lady or two, a barrister, and a 
 judge. All these were on pedestals ; but in the background, 
 on boards, stood numerous other busts, dwarfish and gigantic, 
 heads and shoulders, like Oriental Genii coming up through 
 the floor — some white and clean, as if fresh from the waters 
 under the earth ; others dingy and smoky, as if from its 
 subterranean fireplaces — some young, some old, some smilin
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 447 
 
 and others grave, or even frowning severely : with one 
 alarming face, reminding me of those hard brutal coun- 
 tenances that are seen on street-doors. 
 
 " On the mantel-shelf silently roared the Caput of Lao- 
 ciion, with deeply indented eyeballs, instead of the regulation 
 blanks, and what the play people call a practicable mouth, 
 i.e. into which you might poke your finger down to the 
 gullet; and lastly, on the walls were sundry mystical 
 sketches in black and white chalk, which you might turn, 
 as fancy prompted, like Hamlet's cloud, into any figure you 
 pleased, from a weasel to a whale. 
 
 " To return to itself. The artist, after setting before me 
 what seemed a small mountain of putty, with a bold scoop of 
 his thumbs, marked out my eyes; next taking a good pinch 
 of clay — an operation I seemed to feel by sympathy — from be- 
 tween my shoulders, clapped me on a rough nose, and then 
 3tuck the surplus material in a large wart on my chest. In 
 short, by similar proceedings, scraping, smoothing, dabbing 
 on, and taking off, at the end of the first sitting, the sculptor 
 had made the upper half of a mud doll, the size of life, look- 
 ing very like the ' idol of his own circle ' in the Cannibal 
 Islands. 
 
 "At subsequent sittings, this heathen figure gradually 
 became, not only more Christian-like, but more and more 
 like the original: till finally it put on that striking re- 
 semblance which is so satisfactory to one's wife and family, 
 and, as it were, introduces a man to himself. 
 
 " An engraving by Mr. Heath from this bust is intended 
 to form tlie frontispiece to the second volume of this Maga- 
 zine, and will be given with the next number, should the 
 interval be sufiicient for the careful execution and finish of 
 the plate. The Address, that should have been offered the 
 present month, will accompany the engraving; the same
 
 448 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 cause that postpones it, a severe indisposition, will be 
 accepted perhaps as a sufficient apology for the absence of 
 the usual Answers to Correspondents. In the meantime all 
 good wishes are briefly tendered to the vast ring of friends, 
 and the increasing circle of subscribers, to whose entertain- 
 ment at the present season I have tried to contribute." — 
 T. H. 
 
 At the beginning of this year my father wrote, I believe, 
 several notes taking a farewell of his friends. Among these, 
 one to the late Dr. Moir (better known as Delta) is so touch- 
 ing and simple, and so characteristic of his patience and 
 resignation, that the Memorials would lack completeness if it 
 were omitted. 
 
 Dear Moir, 
 
 God bless you and yours, and good-bye! I drop 
 these few lines, as in a bottle from a ship water-logged, and 
 on the brink of foundering, being in the last stage of dropsi- 
 cal debility; but though suffering in body, serene in mind. 
 So without reversing my union-jack, I await my last lurch. 
 Till which, believe me, dear Moir, 
 
 Yours most truly, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
 In the February number appeared two more chapters of 
 " Our Family," the last " doomed to remain like his life a 
 great fragment." In this number appeared also some 
 touching " Stanzas," which, though they are included in the 
 " Serious Poems," I venture to reprint here ; the first verse 
 describing so touchingly his own sensations, and the last not 
 
 I
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 449 
 
 destined to be realised here, but, his children believe, a pro- 
 phetic foretaste of the hereafter. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 Farewell Life ! my senses swim 
 And the world is growing dim ; 
 Thronging shadows cloud the light, 
 Like the advent of the night, — 
 Colder, colder, colder still, — 
 Upward steals a vapour chill — - 
 Strong the earthy odour grows — 
 I smell the Mould above the Rose ! 
 
 Welcome Life ! The Spirit strives ! 
 Strength returns, and hope revives ; 
 Cloudy fears and shapes forloiu 
 Fly like shadows at the morn, — 
 O'er the earth there comes a bloom — 
 Sunny light for sullen gloom. 
 Warm perfume for vapours cold — 
 I smell the Rose above the Mould ! 
 
 It was now an acknowledged fact that my dear father 
 could not again rally from this last illness ; his faithful and 
 tender physicians had reluctantly given him up, and he 
 knew it himself, and understood that all human means were 
 at an end, and that death was coming with slow but certain 
 steps. He had, for years past, known, as well as his doctors, 
 his own frail tenure of existence, and had more than once, as 
 he said himself, " been so near Death's door, he could almost 
 fancy he heard the creaking of the hinges;" and he was now 
 fully aware that at last his feeble step was on its very 
 threshold. With this knowledge he wrote the following 
 beautiful letter to Sir Robert Peel, worthy of being the last 
 letter of such a man. 
 
 VOL. X. 29
 
 450 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Deyonshirk Lodqk, Nkw Finchlet Eoad. 
 Dear Sib, 
 
 We are not to meet in the flesh. Given over by my 
 
 physicians and by myself, I am only kept alive by frequent 
 
 instalments of mulled port wine. In this extremity I feel a 
 
 comfort, for which I cannot refrain from again thanking you, 
 
 with all the sincerity of a dying man, — and, at the same 
 
 time, bidding you a respectful farewell. 
 
 Thank God my mind is composed and my reason undis- 
 turbed, but my race as an author is run. My physical 
 debility finds no tonic virtue in a steel pen, otherwise I 
 would have written one moi-e paper — a forewarning one — 
 against an evil, or the danger of it, arising from a literary 
 movement in which I have had some share, a one-sided 
 humanity, opposite to that Catholic Shaksperian sympathy, 
 which felt with King as well as Peasant, and duly estimated 
 the mortal temptations of both stations. Certain classes at 
 the poles of Society are already too far asunder; it should 
 be the duty of our writers to draw them nearer by kindly 
 attraction, not to aggravate the existing repulsion, and place 
 a wider moral gulf between Rich and Poor, wath Hate on the 
 one side and Fear on the other. But I am too weak for this 
 task, the last I had set myself; it is death that stops my 
 pen, you see, and not the pension. 
 
 God bless you, sir, and prosper all your measures for the 
 benefit of my beloved country. 
 
 I have the honour to be. Sir, 
 
 Your most grateful and obedient Sei-vant, 
 
 Tnos. Hood. 
 
 This Sir Robert Peel answered in the following note: —
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 451 
 
 Whitehall, 1845. 
 Deab Sir, 
 
 I must write one line to express an earnest hope that 
 
 it will please God to restore you to health and strength; and 
 
 that you may be enabled to apply your unimpaired faculties 
 
 to the inculcation of those just and really benevolent doctrines, 
 
 which are shadowed out in the letter you have addressed to 
 
 me. With my best wishes, believe me, 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 Robert Peel, 
 
 My father's devoted friend, Mr. "Ward, meanwhile edited 
 the Magazine on his behalf. In the number for the 1st of 
 March, appeared the first public announcement of my father's 
 hopeless illness in the following words : — 
 
 "THE ECHO. 
 
 " We can hardly congratulate our readers on presenting 
 them, this month, with an effigy of Thomas Hood's out- 
 ward features, instead of that poi-traiture of his mind, and 
 those traces of his kindly heart, which he has been wont, 
 with his own pen, to draw in these pages. And we lament 
 still more that we must add a regret to the disappointment 
 of our readers, by communicating to them the sad tidings 
 that the aching original of that pictured brow, is again laid 
 low by dangerous illness, again scaired (to borrow an ex- 
 pression of his own) 'by the crooked autograph of pain.' 
 Through many a previous paroxysm of his malady, when 
 life and death hung trembling in the balance, Mr. Hood has 
 worked on steadily for our instruction and amusement;
 
 452 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 throwing often into a humorous chapter, or impassioned 
 poem, the power which was needed to restore exhausted 
 nature. During the past month, however, his physical 
 strength has completely given way : and, almost as much 
 through incapacity of his hand to hold the pen, as of his 
 brain for any length of time to guide it, he has at last been 
 compelled to desist from composition. Those, in whom 
 admiration of the writer has induced also a friendly feeling 
 towards the man, will have some consolation in learning that 
 amidst his sufferings, which have been severe, his cheerful 
 philosophy has never failed him; but that around his sick 
 bed, as in his writings and in his life, he has known how to 
 lighten the melancholy of those around him, and to mingle 
 laughter with their tears. We have thought it due to our 
 readers and the public, thus briefly to make known that Mr. 
 Hood is more seriously ill than even he has ever been before; 
 avoiding to express any hopes or forebodings of our own, or 
 to prejudge the uncertain issues of life and death." 
 
 In fact friendship and sympathy poured in upon him, all 
 that skill could do to alleviate his sufferings was done, and 
 in that respect the greatest of the land could not have pos- 
 sessed more. Loving friends were ready to write for him, as 
 they had long done already; for all his literary friends 
 helped him with something, even those most pressed for 
 time. Mr. Ward, whenever engagements permitted, came 
 to him, often sat up at night with him, and loved him like a 
 brother. Old friends and new friends came to see him, and 
 utter tlieir earnest sympathies and fai-ewells ; and for all he 
 had kind and cheerful words and thoughts. Game, wine, and 
 fruit were sent to tempt the failing appetite, and evidences of 
 thoughtful kindness came even from strange and unknown 
 hands. Among other touching proofs of admiration and
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 458 
 
 esteem, was a note containing only these words in a feigned 
 hand, 
 
 A SHIRT! 
 
 AND A SINCERE WISH FOR HEALTH. 
 
 The envelope contained a bank note for 20^. He received 
 besides a copy of very beautiful verses, also anonymous.* 
 
 The very neighbours (in London, where next-door neigh- 
 bours are almost sure to be strangers) were kind and inte- 
 
 * Apart from the high value they have in our eyes, the lines are so 
 really meritorious, that we print them. If I could place my hand in the 
 hand, and look in the face, of their writer, I should feel deeply gratified. — 
 T. H. 
 
 TO T. HOOD, ON HEARING OF HIS SICKNESS. 
 
 Were I in Heaven, my song would be of mirth 
 When wings like thine are upward spread to fly; 
 
 But ah ! my brother, would upon the earth, 
 Hearts good and true might beat eternally ! 
 
 Though long from Life's idolatry thine own 
 
 Hath doubtless turned, — serene e'en to the last, 
 
 Oh, be it kept, — to yield its joyous tone 
 And feel that care dwells only in the past — 
 
 To feel no aching void — no mortal fears — 
 
 To feel no hankering after faded joy, 
 To feel while piercing thro' earth's mist of tears 
 
 " Thou'rt nearer Heaven now, than when a boy 1 " 
 
 And all the seeds we've gathered as they fell, 
 Rich from thy ripen'd thought, a goodly store ! 
 
 If thou must go, shall burst afresh to tell 
 
 How pure the soul the precious gift that bore ' 
 
 Poor comfort still for honest grief to cherish 1 
 Poor bliss which memory alone supplies ! 
 
 Thank God ! — our good aflfections never perish- 
 Though in this world of woe the good man dies 1
 
 454 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 rested, one gentleman sending in his coachman almost daily 
 to lift the poor invalid to his easy chair ; and others knock- 
 ing on the wall, on hearing any unusual disturbance at night, 
 to offer help. One lady sent violets from the country to 
 place by hia bedside, hearing he loved the perfume of these 
 little flowers. All these kind offices touched his grateful 
 heart most deeply, at times almost to tears; and if thesd 
 pages should ever come before any of those who perfoi-med 
 them, it may be some little pleasure to know the soothing 
 consolation and pleasure they afforded the dying man, and 
 the gratitude his children will never cease to feel toward 
 them. About this time he directed a number of proofs of 
 the engraving from the bust to be struck off on separate 
 yiheets. This was the same engraving that now forms the 
 frontispiece to the volume of serious " Poems." 
 
 There ai'e two published portraits* of my father — both 
 possessing peculiar characteristics, and both excellent in their 
 style. The original oil-painting from which that engraving 
 was taken which accompanies the volume of " Hood's Own," 
 was an admirable likeness, the expression being most happily 
 caught, and perhaps, from the dress and familiar attitude, 
 giving the best general idea of him. At the same time, 
 although of necessity in sculpture the eloquence of the eyes 
 is wanting, the bust itself, and the engraving from it, bear a 
 fine and remarkable resemblance to the original. It renders 
 very faithfully the calm repose, almost amounting to solem- 
 nity, which characterised his face during the latter part of 
 his life, and especially at that short period after death, which 
 is so well known to exhibit an unearthly beauty often want- 
 ing in life. 
 
 The proofs of this last mentioned engraving, with a few 
 
 * A third is now added, in the frontispiece to the new edition of "Whims 
 and Oddities." It is an earlier portrait, taken about 1834-5. — T. H.
 
 MEMOEIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 455 
 
 kiud words inscribed, and a signature, were his dying legacy 
 to those who knew and loved him. The number reached 
 upwards of a hundred, and the names and inscriptions were 
 written at intervals as he found strength to sit up in bed, 
 The clear delicate writing bore, even then, but little ti-ace of 
 weakness. 
 
 His presence of mind was remarkable, as his was, I think, 
 naturally, and eventually from illness, a nervous nature. 
 One night I was sitting up with him, my mother having 
 gone to rest for a few hours, worn out with fatigue. He 
 was seized, about twelve o'clock, with one of his alarming 
 attacks of haemorrhage from the lungs.* When it had mo- 
 mentarily ceased, he motioned for paper and pencil, and 
 asked if I was too frightened to stay with him. I was too 
 used to it now, and on replying "No," he quietly and calmly 
 wrote all his wishes and directions on a slip of paper, as 
 deliberately as if it were an ordinary matter. He forbade 
 me to disturb my mother. When the doctor came, and 
 ordered ice to be applied, my father wrote to remind me of 
 a pond close by, where ice could be procured, nor did he for- 
 get to add a hint for refreshments to be prepared for the 
 surgeon, who was to wait some hours to watch the case. 
 This was in the midst of a very sudden and dangerous 
 attack, that was, at the time, almost supposed to be his 
 last. 
 
 No words can describe his patience and resignation amidst 
 all the fierce sufferings of the last month or two of his dying, 
 as he said himself, " inch by inch." In the intervals between 
 
 * It may give the reader some notion of the frequency of these attacks to 
 mention, that I was so used to them as a child, that I looked forward to the 
 time when I should be old enough to spit blood, as some boys look forward 
 to the time when they shall have whiskers. One of the epitaphs my father 
 suggested for himseK was — "Here lies one who spat mors blood and made 
 more puns than any other man." — T.H.
 
 456 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 the terrible agonies that racked that exhausted frame, he 
 talked quite calmly to us all of our future plans, and of 
 what he wished to be done. At times we were obliged to 
 leave him, to try and check the emotions that overpowered 
 us. With such an example before us, we were obliged to 
 keep brave hearts and cheerful countenances : it was a diffi- 
 cult task, but the beloved sufferer was the first to exhort 
 and console us. My dear mother bore up with all the 
 strength of a true woman's devotion, and with a calmness 
 that, after the necessity for control was over, re-acted fatally 
 on her worn-out frame. She survived him little more than 
 a year. 
 
 It was a lovely spring, and my father loved to see and 
 feel all he could of it, drinking in his last measure of sun- 
 shine and fresh air, more eagerly than he used to do. He 
 always loved all nature like a child, and, I think, possessed 
 to the full that rare faculty of enjoyment, which even a clear 
 day or a beautiful flower can bi'ing to a finely sensitive 
 mind, which, if it suffers keenly, enjoys keenly as well. He 
 said once to us, "It's a beautiful world, and since I have 
 been lying here, I have thought of it more and more ; it is 
 not so bad, even humanly speaking, as people would make 
 it out. I have had some very happy days while I lived in 
 it, and I could have wished to stay a little longer. But it 
 is all for the best, and we shall all meet in a better world !" 
 
 Now, indeed, might all those who cavilled at his cheerful 
 wit, and genial philosophy (never directed against what was 
 really high or holy) have taken a lesson how to die ! Now, 
 indeed, might they have seen Idw a great and good spirit, 
 that had for many years battled with disease and privation, 
 could in the very prime of its mental power, calmly and 
 solemnly lay down its burthen and its toil. Those who 
 doubted his religious belief, and were almost ready to say to
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 457 
 
 him, like the lady he speaks of iu his "Literary Remini- 
 scences," "Mr. Hood, are you an Infidel?" must then have felt 
 the force of that practical faith and Christianity, which could 
 trust itself so i*eadily and undoubtingly to the mercy of that 
 great Creator, whose visible handwriting in His creation he 
 had known and loved so well. 
 
 Moreover, to prove that this was no mere " death-bed " 
 feeling, but the close of a consistent human life, if more 
 testimony is wanting than his *'orks for the good of man- 
 kind (of which he could truthfully say, on that death-bed, 
 that he "never regretted a line") if, I rej^eat, further evi- 
 dence is necessary to refute some unreasonable and ground- 
 less doubts that have rested on his memory, I will add one 
 more proof. 
 
 As a little child, my first prayer was learnt from my 
 fathers lips, and repeated at his knee ; my first introduction 
 to the Bible, which he honoured too much to make a task- 
 book, was from spelling out the words of the first chapter 
 of the Sermon on the Mount as it lay open on his study 
 table;* my earliest lessons of the love and beauty, hid in 
 every created thing, were from the stores of his observant 
 mindj and my deepest and holiest teachings, too sacred for 
 
 * This was a large copy of the Bible, in which, as in a corresponding 
 Prayer Book, are written the words : — 
 
 "Jane Hood, 
 
 "The Gift of her Husband 
 "1830. "Thomas Hood." 
 
 In the Bible are inscribed, in accordance with the beautiful old custom, 
 which if viewed in a right spirit has nothing irreverent in it, the date of 
 my father and mother's marriage, and the births and baptisms of their 
 children. People in those days thought it no sin to chronicle these, the 
 most important events of their lives, in "The Book" which ought to be 
 their daily help on their earthly path, as weU as their guide to one 
 immortal. — F. F. B.
 
 458 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 more than a mere allusion, were given often in the dead 
 of the night, when I was sitting up, sometimes alone, by 
 my father's dying bed. These are strong words and facts, 
 but they are called forth, not unnecessarily, by the impres- 
 sion that exists, not in one instance, but in twenty, as to my 
 father's disbelief and scepticism, a doubt that will now surely 
 be set at rest for ever, by the simple and unvarnished truth 
 of those who knew him longest and best. True, he warred 
 against the professedly religious) when they assumed the 
 mere garb of piety, instead of charity, " to cover a multitude 
 of sins,") because anything false or hypocritical jarred like a 
 discordant note on his sense of right. But his voice was 
 always uplifted in the cause of the poor and needy, and, 
 when, as we are told by words that cannot deceive, " the 
 merciful shall inherit a blessing," his earthly errors and 
 failings shall receive that mercy he never failed to show to 
 others. 
 
 In the number of the Magazine which appeared on the 1st 
 of April, the following notice was inserted. 
 
 THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 *' It is with a heavy and an aching heart that we darken 
 these pages, that have so often reflected the brilliant wit of 
 our beloved Editor, and the calmer lustre of his serious 
 thoughts, with the sad tidings of his approaching death; a 
 death long feared by his friends, long even distinctly fore- 
 seen, but not till now so rapidly approaching as to preclude 
 all hope. His sufferings, which have lately undergone a 
 terrible increase, have been throughout sustained with manly 
 fortitude and Christian resignation. He is perfectly aware 
 of his condition; and we have no longer any reason, or any 
 right to speak ambiguously of a now too certain loss, the 
 loss of a Great Writer — great in the splendour of his copious
 
 MEMORIALS OF TUOMAS HOOD. 459 
 
 imagery, in his rare faculty of terse incisive language, in his 
 power and pregnancy of thought, — and in his almost Shak- 
 spearian versatility of genius, great in the few, but noble 
 works he leaves behind, greater still, perhaps, in those he 
 will carry unwritten to his early tomb. It is this indeed 
 ■which principally afflicts him : the Man is content to die, 
 he has taken leave of his friends, and forgiven his enemies 
 (if any such he have), and "turned his face to the wall;" 
 but the Poet still longs for a short reprieve, still watches to 
 snatch one last hour for his art ; and will perhaps even yet, 
 once more, floating towards the deep waters of eternity, pour 
 out his soul in song." 
 
 From this time my father's sufferings increased daily; 
 dropsy, from sheer weakness, having supervened on his 
 already too numerous diseases. Days of exhaustion suc- 
 ceeded nights of agony and sleeplessness, till it seemec 
 marvellous that the attenuated frame could hold out. The 
 trial was the greater for that there were no alternate clouds 
 of hope and fear, to relieve by their very change : all was 
 one dark leaden hue of utter hopelessness. 
 
 My dear father was, at times during his illness, delirious 
 with pain ; his mind was ordinarily quiet and tranquil, and 
 these times seemed, like transient mists, though hiding for 
 a time, to clear off effectually at last. We shall never 
 forget one night, when his mind was wandering in this way, 
 his repeating Lady Nairne's lovely words, 
 
 " I'm wearin* awa', Jean,* 
 Like snow -wreaths in thaw, Jean ! 
 I'm wearin' awa' — 
 
 To the land o' the leal ! 
 
 • It will be observed that my mother's name was Jane. In the original 
 the lines are addressed to "John," but in the general vfrsion to "Jean," 
 an alteration made on the supposition that the poem was by Bums. — 
 T. R
 
 460 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 " But weep na, my ain Jean, — 
 The world's cares are vain, Jean, 
 We'll meet and aye be fain 
 In the land o' the leal ! " 
 
 No one could listen to this without tears, coming from the 
 frail feeble form that was fading so fast, and uttered with a 
 touching tone, to which the temporary wandering of that 
 strong mind gave additional pathos. 
 
 These occasional obscurings, however, took place but 
 seldom, and towards the last his mind was as clear and 
 collected as in his best days. 
 
 May was an eventful month to him. He was born on the 
 23rd of May 1799; married on the 5th of May 1824; on 
 the 1st of May 1845 — May-day — he was last conscious; on 
 the 3rd, he died; and on the 10th he was buried. On the 
 Thursday evening. May 1st, he seemed worse; and knowing 
 himself to be dying, he called us round him — my mother, 
 my little brother, just ten years old, and myself. He gave 
 us his last blessing, tenderly and fondly; and then quietly 
 clasping my mother's hand, he said, "Kemember, Jane, I 
 forgive all, all, as I hope to be forgiven !" He lay for some 
 time calmly and peacefully, but breathing slowly and with 
 difficulty. My mother bending over him heard him say 
 faintly, " O Lord ! say. Arise, take up thy cross, and follow 
 me ! " His last words were, " Dying, dying ! " as if glad to 
 realise the rest implied in them. He then sunk into what 
 seemed a deep slumber. This torpor lasted all Friday ; and 
 on Saturday at noon, he breathed his last, without a struggle 
 or a sigh. 
 
 By my dear father's own especial desire and injunction, a 
 post-moi-tem examination was made, which proved tlie cor- 
 rectness of his physician's theory of the case. For a time 
 there was some idea that he should be buried in Poets'
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 461 
 
 Comer,* Westminster Abbey; but this notion was speedily 
 abandoned, and the first and wisest plan carried out of laying 
 him in Kensal-green Cemetery, His funeral was private 
 and quiet, though attended by many who had known and 
 loved him. Sir Robert Peel would have attended, but was 
 prevented by stress of public business. My dear father's 
 nearest and dearest friends, including Dr. Elliot, Dr. Robert 
 Elliot, Mr. Ward, and several others, with his little son,t 
 followed him to the grave as mourners. 
 
 Eighteen months afterwards, his faithful and devoted wife 
 was buried by his side. A painful disease, originally induced 
 by the long anxiety and fatigue of nursing him through his 
 long illness, was accelerated by his loss. The husband and 
 wife, who during their troubled and sorrowful lives, had 
 never, since their marriage, been so long divided before, were 
 soon re-united. 
 
 I only really felt the peculiar fitness of the choice of his 
 last resting-place in its fullest force, when, two years ago, I 
 visited the grave, now covered by the noble monument 
 ei-ected by public subscription. It was a lovely morning, 
 just watered by a few fitful showers — the relics of April — 
 which a May sunshine was now lighting up. The pink and 
 white petals of the chesnut blossoms strewed the path, and 
 
 * This arose from the mistaken notion that England's Abbey was 
 intended as the last resting-place of her men of genius, and not, as is the 
 case, for any one who is willing to pay about £200 in fees. Is it not a 
 grand thought, surpassing Addison's solemn meditations, that any humble, 
 nameless, titleless, unknown man, may elbow Chaucer, Spenser, Dryden, 
 Jonson, and Prior in Poets' Corner — always provided, he have £200 or so 
 to pay his way with ! — T. H. 
 
 + I have a perfect recollection of the funeral, and of the unfeigned 
 sorrow of those kind and beloved friends who attended it. It was a beau- 
 tiful spring day, and I remember it was noticed that just as the service 
 concluded, a lark rose up, mounting and singing over our heads. This 
 was in the middle of the day.— T. H.
 
 462 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. . 
 
 the scent of the lilacs filled the air with fragrance. The 
 whole aspect of the place was beautiful enough, and though 
 a " City of Tombs," it had its own peculiar charm in those 
 small silent flower-plots, looking like children's gardens, but 
 where no children have ever played. Under the open sky, 
 whether in sunshine or storm, with green turf and flowers 
 around, was where, we felt, could he have chosen, he would 
 have wished his last resting-place to be. 
 
 And now our task is finished: how painful it has been 
 only those know, who have undertaken one similar. We 
 feel how inadequate all our efforts have been to render this 
 fragmentary chronicle worthy of our beloved father. It is, 
 at best, but a faint shadow of what he was as he lives in our 
 memories, and wanting in the light and colour, which would 
 make them interesting to the general reader. But we have 
 humbly tried to do our best with the scanty materials at our 
 disposal. In all cases, the blame and shortcoming may rest 
 very justly upon us, but we shall have erred through igno- 
 rance. It has been our most solemn and earnest endeavour, 
 that, if in these Memorials we could add but little to shed 
 fresh lustre on that honoured memory, equally at least nothing 
 shall have been inserted that can for a moment tarnish it, or 
 hurt any one living. It is, if only thus far, a fulfilment of 
 what would have been the wish of his loving and gentle spirit. 
 
 The following was written by my father in the February 
 preceding his death, and directed to Dr. Elliot, the envelope 
 bearing these words also — 
 
 MY LAST ARRANGEMENTS. 
 
 Devonshire Lodge, New FiNCHLEr Road, St. John's "Wood, 
 
 February 7, 1845. 
 
 It is my last will and desire that " Nash's Halls" be 
 
 given, in my name, to my dear William and Georgiana Elliot,
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 463 
 
 in recognition of their brotherly and sisterly affection and 
 kindness. 
 
 My " Knight's Shakspere," for a like reason, to dear Kobert 
 Elliot. 
 
 Chaucer or Froissart, as he may prefer, to T. Reseigh. 
 
 Ward, Harvey, Phillips, and Hardman, to select a book a- 
 piece for remembrance, 
 
 " Nimrod's Sporting " to Philip de Franck. 
 
 All else that I possess, I give and bequeath to my dear 
 wife, to be used for her benefit and that of our dear children, 
 whom God bless, guide, and preserve. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Public Subscription for the erection of a monument — Inaugurated July, 
 1854 — Oration of Mr. Monckton MUnea. 
 
 In the September or October of 1852, what the children 
 of Thomas Hood had long planned to do in a modest and 
 unpretending manner, was undertaken by the public. Some 
 sweet lines, by Miss Eliza Cook, drew attention to the fact 
 that no tombstone marked the poet's grave.* A public sub- 
 
 * Tbc following lines appeared in " Punch " shortly after, and are, I 
 believe, from the pen of my father's old friend, Mr. Mark Lemon : — 
 
 " Give Hood a tombstone, 'tis not much to give 
 To one who stirred so oft our smiles and tears ; 
 But why a tomb to one whose lines will live 
 His noblest monument to after years ?
 
 464 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 scription was suggested to her in numerous letters, and after 
 a time a Committee was formed, consisting principally of 
 members of the Whittington Club. This committee exerted 
 itself strenuously, and before long the lists began to fill. 
 Noblemen, Members of Parliament, men of letters, old friends 
 and acquaintances, gave their aid ; and the people, as has 
 been before mentioned, added their shillings and pence. The 
 Honorary Secretary, Mr. John Watkins, to whose energy in 
 the matter very much was due, has kindly afforded me all 
 assistance requisite for this Chapter, in the shape of notices 
 and letters collected by him at the time. I regret much that 
 
 " To wliich I answer, that in times to come — 
 Times of more equal lots and gentler laws — 
 The workers may not seek in vain his tomb 
 Who pleaded once so movingly their cause. 
 
 ' ' If marble mark the soldier's, statesman's grave ; 
 If monuments adorn his place of sleep 
 Whose hand struck off the fetters from the slave, 
 And his who sought out love in dungeon deep ; 
 
 " Did he not fight for toil's sad sons and daughters ? 
 Was not his voice loud for the worker's right ? 
 Was not he potent to arrest the slaughters 
 Of Capital, and Labour's desperate fight ? 
 
 " Oh ! mothers, think of his melodious pity 
 Over the victim of the ' Bridge of Sighs ; ' 
 Oh ! almoners of the o'ercrowded city, 
 
 Think of the shirtmaker's heart-piercing cries. 
 
 " You, too, whose lighter hearts turned from such themes, 
 Who sought his page for smiles, and not for tears, 
 Think of his wit, how pure, and of its gleams 
 Mocking the sadness of his later years. 
 
 " And say if Hood should moulder into dust 
 Without a stone to mark his place of rest, 
 Whose fiercest scorn ne'er sought a mark unjust, 
 Whose keenest wit-shaft ne'er pained living breast. "
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 465 
 
 the length to which the Memorials have extended will not per- 
 mit quotations from the letters of the late Lord Macaulay, the 
 late Lady Morgan, Barry Cornwall, Dr. Mackay, Mr. Macready, 
 and other distinguished names. The late Mr. Thomas De 
 Quincey, and the late Miss Mitford, old friends of my father's, 
 wrote most touching notes, and the late Duke of Devonshire 
 enclosed a donation worthy of his generosity, in a letter 
 marked with the greatest feeling and kindness. 
 
 Mr. Longfellow also wrote, saying at the close of his letter : 
 " Poor Mrs. Hood and the children, who have lost him ! 
 They will have forgotten the stranger, who called, one 
 October morning, with Dickens, and was hospitably enter- 
 tained by them. But I remember the visit, and the pale 
 face of the poet, and the house in St. John's Wood." 
 
 My mother had been dead, as has been described, many 
 years before this was written, but the children of Thomas 
 Hood had not forgotten, nor will they ever forget, the visit 
 of one, in whom their father had taught them to admire a 
 poet of sympathies akin to his own. 
 
 At the commencement of 1853, the subscriptions had 
 swelled to a considerable amount, having been increased by 
 the proceeds of " An Evening with Hood," (an entertainment 
 suggested by the well-known George Grossmith) and other 
 lectures of a similar description. 
 
 It was now determined to apply to the sculptors for a 
 design. On this point no more need be said than that the 
 choice of the Committee fell on Mr. Matthew Noble, — a 
 decision which the verdict of the country has since endorsed, 
 on more than one occasion, and w^hich a visit to the monu- 
 ment cannot fail to ratify. 
 
 On the ISth of July, 1854, the completed monument was 
 unveiled, at Kensal Green, in the presence of a number of 
 friends and admirers of the dead Poet. An oration, describ- 
 
 VQL. X. 30
 
 466 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 ing the origin of the Memorial, and the history of him whom 
 it celebrated, was made by Mr. Monckton Milnes (now Lord 
 Houghton), whose kindly ofl&ces and sympathy had done 
 much to alleviate the anxieties of the close of my father's 
 
 Bas relief, "The Bridge of Sighs," from the Monument 
 by M. Noble, in Rensal Green. 
 
 life, and who took the greatest interest in everything con- 
 nected with the monument. 
 
 Six years have now elapsed since the monument was
 
 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 467 
 
 erected, and from that time it has been frequently visited 
 by the Poet's friends and admirers; and it is a sincere 
 pleasure to his children to think they are so numerous. 
 He was, indeed, (to quote the words of a periodical speak- 
 
 Bas-relief, " Euqkne Aram," from the Monument 
 by M. Noble, in Kensal Green. 
 
 ing of the inauguration of the monument) one "of gentle 
 heart and open hand ! Foe to none but the bigot, the 
 pedant, and the quack ! Friend to the suffering, to the
 
 468 MEMORIALS OF THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 carewoiTi, and the needy ; to the victims of a cruel greed, to 
 all that are desolate and oppressed, — Hood, the generous, 
 kind, and true !" 
 
 There remains but one more task to perform,* — less a 
 task than a pleasure. It is to thank those who have, in 
 various ways, — either by the loan of letters, the gift of 
 memoranda, or otherwise, — assisted in the compilation of 
 these Memorials. 
 
 * Although not immediately connected with the subject of these Memo- 
 rials, we must not pass unnoticed the generous subscription entered into 
 shortly after our father's death for the support of his widow and for his 
 orphan children. Nor would it seem gracious to omit mention tliat in 1847, 
 after our mother's death, the pension, originally granted to her by Sir 
 Robert Peel, was revived in our favour by the kindness of Lord John 
 Russell, as soon as it was suggested to him by some considerate friends 
 to whom Sir Robert Peel, the noblest patron Literature has known, pointed 
 out, unasked, a precedent on which to found their application. For these 
 instances of the generosity and kindly feeling we have had extended to us 
 for our father's sake, we return our earnest thanks. 
 
 END OF THE MEMORIALS.
 
 469 
 
 THE SAUSAGE MAKER'S GHOST, 
 
 A LONDON LEGEND. 
 
 Somewhere in Leather Lane — 
 
 I wonder that it was not Mincing, 
 And for this reason most convincing, 
 That Mr. Brain 
 Dealt in those well-minced cartridges of meat 
 
 Some people like to eat — 
 However, all such quibbles overstepping. 
 In Leather Lane he lived ; and drove a trade 
 In porcine sausages, though London made, 
 Call'd " Epping " 
 
 Right brisk was the demand, 
 Seldom his goods stay'd long on hand. 
 For out of all adjacent courts and lanes, 
 Young Irish ladies and their swains — 
 Such soups of girls and broths of boys ! — 
 
 Sought his delicious chains, 
 Preferr'd to all polonies, saveloys. 
 And other foreign toys — 
 The mere chance passengers 
 Who saw his " sassengers," 
 Of sweetness undeniable, 
 So sleek, so mottled, and so " friable,' 
 Stepp'd in, forgetting ev'ry other thouglit, 
 And bought.
 
 470 THE SAUSAGE MAKER'S GHOST. 
 
 Meanwhile a constant thumping 
 Was heard, a sort of subterranean chumping — 
 
 Incessant was the noise ! 
 But though he had a foreman and assistant, 
 
 With all the tools consistent, 
 (Besides a wife and two fine chopping boys) 
 His means were not yet vast enough 
 For chopping fast enough 
 To meet the call from streets, and lanes, aud passages, 
 For firat-chop " sassages." 
 
 However, Mr. Brain 
 Was none of those dull men and slow, 
 Who, flying bird-like by a railway train, 
 Sigh for the heavy mails of long ago ; 
 He did not set his face 'gainst innovations 
 
 For rapid operations, 
 And therefore in a kind of waking dream 
 Listeu'd to some hot-water sprite that hinted 
 To have his meat chopp'd, as the Times was printed^ 
 By steam ! 
 
 Accordingly in happy hour, 
 A bran-new Engine went to work 
 
 Chopping up pounds on pounds of pork 
 With all the energy of Two-Horse-Power, 
 
 And wonderful celerity — 
 When lo ! when ev'ry thing to hope responded, 
 Whether hia head was tum'd by his prosperity, 
 Whether he had some sly intrigue, in verity, 
 
 The man absconded !
 
 THE SAUSAGE MAKER'S GHOST. 471 
 
 His anxious Wife in vain 
 
 Placarded Leather Lane, 
 And all the suburbs with descriptive bills, 
 Such as are issued when from homes and tills 
 Clerks, dogs, cats, lunatics, and children roum ; 
 Besides advertisements in all the joimials. 
 
 Or weeklies or diui*nals, 
 Beginning " Left his Home" — 
 The sausage-maker, spite of white and black, 
 Never came back 
 
 Never, alive ! — But on the seventh night, 
 Just when the yawning grave its dead releases, 
 Filling his bedded wife with sore affright 
 In walk'd his gi'isly Sprite, 
 In fifty thousand pieces ! 
 "0 Mary!" so it seem'd 
 In hollow melancholy tone to say, 
 Whilst thro' its airy shape the moonlight gleam'd 
 
 With scarcely dimmer ray, — 
 " Mary ! let your hopes no longer flatter. 
 Prepare at once to drink of soitow's cup — 
 
 It ain't no use to mince the matter — 
 The Engine's chopp'd me up 1 "'
 
 472 
 
 THE ECHO. 
 
 Ouu best thaaks are due to a Conespondent who signs 
 himself "Civis." The writer of the Letter in the "Britannia" 
 newspaper, who accused us of favouring incendiarism, evi- 
 dently did not put forward his true objection to our article. 
 He is probably a wholesale dealer in cheap shirts or em- 
 broidered shawls — and a lineal descendant from Mrs. Brown- 
 rigge, of atrocious memory. 
 
 To " P. R," There was a trial of a labourer for sending a 
 threatening letter, very similar to that of GifFord White, 
 recently reported by Judge Alderson. But the sentence was 
 very different — ten years' transportation. 
 
 We must refer " Maria " to her French and English 
 Dictionary for the translation of "La Belle Poule." It 
 seems to mean the bell-pull. 
 
 To " N. N." The most characteristic " Mysteries of Lon- 
 don " are those which have lately prevailed on the land and 
 the river, attended by collisions of vessels, robberies, assaults, 
 accidents, and other features of Metropolitan interest. If 
 N. N. be ambitious of competing with the writers whom he 
 names, let him try his hand at a genuine, solid, yellow No- 
 vember fog. It is dirty, dangerous, smoky, stinking, obscure, 
 unwholesome, and favourable to vice and violence. 
 
 P. W. Too political for us — but might suit the columns 
 of our friend Punch. 
 
 A. Too personal. He ought to know better than to send 
 such shells, which are only fit for burial in Woolwich Marshes, 
 to a Magazine.
 
 A DREAM. 473 
 
 [Duiing this yecr my father's pen — guided now by a band weakened 
 by increasing illness — was employed entirely in the service of his 
 own Magazine — with one exception. That exception was in favour of 
 "Punch," for which he wrote the following poem, an allusion to a 
 well-known incident in the State Tiials in Ireland.] 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 *TwAS night — the Globe was folded up, 
 
 (The paper, not the earth,) 
 And to its proper shelf restored 
 
 The fairest " Maid of Perth :" 
 But still with strange intricacy 
 
 The things that I had read — 
 The Irish News, the Scottish Tale — 
 
 Kept running in my head ; 
 While over all a sort of mist 
 
 Began to slowly creep. 
 The twilight haze of Thought, before 
 
 It darkens into Sleep ; 
 A foggy land where shady shapes 
 
 Kept stirring in the gloom, 
 Till with a hint of brighter tint 
 
 One spot began to bloom, 
 And on the blank, by dreamy prank, 
 
 saw a Figure tall. 
 As vivid as from painted glass, 
 
 Projected on a wall ! 
 
 The face as well as I could trace, 
 Two spai-kling eyes were there. 
 
 Black as the beard, and trim moustache, 
 And curling head of hair ;
 
 -474 -A- DREAM. 
 
 The nose was straight, the mouth was large, 
 
 The lips disclosed beneath 
 A set, full whivC and regular, 
 
 Of strong and handsome teeth — 
 The whiter, that his brow and cheek, 
 
 And thick uncovered gorge, 
 Were ruddy as if baked by heat 
 
 Of sun or glowing forge. 
 
 His dress was buff, or some such stuff. 
 
 And belted at the waist ; 
 A cui'ious dirk, for stabbing work, 
 
 Was in the girdle placed. 
 Beside a sort of pouch or purse 
 
 Of some wild creature's skin, 
 To safely hold his store of gold 
 
 Or silver coin therein ; — 
 But — suddenly his doublet changed 
 
 To one of brighter hue, 
 A jerkin fair and superfine, 
 
 Of cloth of azure blue, 
 Slash'd front and back with satin black, 
 
 Embroider' d o'er and laced 
 With sable silk, as used to suit 
 
 The ancient time and taste ; 
 His hose were of the Flemish cut, 
 
 His boots of Cordovan ; 
 A velvet bonnet on his head. 
 
 Like that of Scottish man, — 
 Nay, not a velvet one, — for why, 
 
 As dreams are apt to deal. 
 With sudden change, as swift as strange. 
 
 It shone a cap of steel !
 
 A DREAM. 475 
 
 His coat of buff, or azure stuff, 
 
 Became a hauberk bright, 
 No longer gay in his array. 
 
 But harness' d for the Fight ! 
 Huge was his frame, and muscular, 
 
 Indicative of strength : 
 His bosom broad, his brawny arms 
 
 Of more than common length ; 
 And well the stui'dy limbs might be 
 
 So sinewy, stark, and strong, 
 That had to wield in battle-field 
 
 A sword so broad and long ! 
 Few men there were of mortal mould. 
 
 Although of warlike trade. 
 But had been rash to stand the crash 
 
 Of that tremendous blade ; 
 And yet aloft he swung it oft, 
 
 As if of feather weight, 
 And cut amid the empty air 
 
 A monstrous figure eight ; 
 Whilst ever, as it cleft the wind, 
 
 A whisper came therewith, 
 That low and clear, said in my ear, 
 
 " Behold the Fighting Smith V * 
 
 And lo ! another " change came o'er 
 
 The spirit of my dream :" 
 The hauberk bright no longer shone 
 
 With that metallic gleam — 
 No ruddy visage furnace- scorch' d, 
 
 With glowing eyes, was there, 
 
 • Vide Scott's "Fair Maid of Perth."
 
 476 A DREAM. 
 
 No sable beai'd, no trim moustache, 
 
 Nor head of raven hair ; 
 No steely cap, with plume mayhap, 
 
 No bonnet small or big ; 
 Upon his brow there settled now 
 
 A curly powder' d Wig ! 
 Beneath the chin two cambric bands 
 
 Demurely drooped adown ; 
 And from his brawny shoulders hung 
 
 A black forensic gown. 
 No mail beneath, to guard from death, 
 
 Or wounds in battle dealt, 
 Nor ready dirk for stabbing work, 
 
 Dependent at his belt — 
 His right hand bore no broad claymoie, 
 
 But with a flourish, soon 
 He waved a Pistol huge enough 
 
 For any horse-dragoon, 
 And whilst he pointed to and fro, 
 
 As if to aim therewith, 
 Still in my ear, the voice w^as clear, 
 
 " Behold the Fighting Smith !'" * 
 
 • Vvlc " Tie State Trials in Ireland."
 
 THE LAY OF THE LARK. 477 
 
 [It has been no easy task to arrange the following fragmentarj* verses, 
 as they were very roughly written in the original MS. The last four 
 lines are given, though very unfinished, as they afford some hint as to 
 the probable intention of the Poem. After due consideration, I am 
 led to think it belongs to this year, as well as the fragment which 
 succeeds it.] 
 
 THE LAY OF THE LARK. 
 
 With dew upon its breast 
 
 And sunshine on its wing, 
 The lark uprose from its happy nest 
 
 And thus it seemed to sing : — 
 " Sweet, sweet ! from the middle of the wheat 
 
 To meet the morning gray, 
 To leave the corn on a merry morn. 
 
 Nor have to curse the day." 
 « * * * » 
 
 With the dew upon their breast, 
 
 And the sunlight on their wing. 
 Towards the skies from the furrows rise 
 
 The lai-ks, and thus they sing : — 
 " If you would know the cause 
 
 That makes us sing so gay. 
 It is because we hail and bless. 
 
 And never curse the day. 
 Sweet, sweet ! from the middle of the wheat 
 ( Where lurk our callow brood) 
 
 Where we were hatch' d, and fed 
 Amidst the corn on a very merry morn 
 (We never starve for food.) 
 
 We never starve for bread !"
 
 478 FRAGMENT. 
 
 Those flowers so very blue 
 
 Those poppies flaming red, 
 « * * * 
 
 His heavy eye was glazed and dull, 
 He only murmur'd "bread !" 
 
 I 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 To note the symptoms of the times, 
 Its cruel and cold-blooded crimes, 
 
 One sure result we win. 
 Tho' rude and rougher modes, no doubt, 
 Of murther are not going out. 
 
 That poison's coming in. 
 ***** 
 
 The powder that the doom'd devour 
 And di'ink, — for sugar, — meal, — or flour, 
 
 Narcotics for the young — 
 And woi'st of all, that subtle juice 
 That can a sudden death produce. 
 
 Whilst yet upon the tongue. 
 
 So swift in its destructive pace, 
 Easy to give, and hard to trace. 
 
 So potable — so clear ! 
 So small the needful dose — to slip 
 Between the fatal cup and lip, 
 
 In Epsom salts or beer.
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 479 
 
 AiTest the plague with cannabis — 
 And * * * publish this, 
 
 To quench the felon's hope : — 
 Twelve drops of prussic acid, still 
 Are not more prompt and sure to kill 
 
 Than one good Drop of Rope.
 
 480 
 
 1845. 
 
 |This year — the last year of my father's labours — found him stretched 
 on a bed of sickness, from which he wi'ote the few contributions which 
 this year helped to fill the numbers of the Magazine. Hardly able to 
 perform this necessary task, he was utterly unable to write for any 
 other periodical. AU, therefore, that remains of his writings, to com- 
 plete this volume, I have reprinted from " Hood's Magazine."! 
 
 A LETTER FROM THE CAPE. 
 
 The authenticity of the following epistle will be believed 
 or not, according to the temperament of the reader. There 
 are persons who will recognise the genuineness of the "Letters 
 from the Dead to the Living," but reject those of Fura Hoam 
 as a fictitious correspondence. How, and from whom the 
 document came into the possession of the editor it is unneces- 
 sary to state : it will suffice to say that he received full per- 
 mission to print it, as well as to illuminate it, if he pleased, 
 with his pencil. 
 
 To Mr. Philip Afuller, SJioe Mart, 91, Minories, London. 
 
 Dear Uncle, 
 
 You will be astonished, no doubt, at my dating 
 from Africa, and particularly after our giving out only a trip 
 to the Continent — but for reasons you shall have in due 
 course. In the meantime please to note the present as 
 strictly confidential, as containing matters, which for our
 
 A LETTER FROM THE CAPE. 451 
 
 interests it is material to prevent getting wind , the tmth 
 is we are in what the Americans call a fix — but you shall 
 have the whole stoiy item by item, and almost verbatim, 
 for I have a retentive memory, as if from a short-hand 
 reporter. 
 
 As a relation and intimate visitor, you are aware of my 
 fiither's fondness for rural life. Every summer, as regularly 
 as it came, he took some country place in the suburbs, with 
 a bit of ground where he might indulge in gardening, but 
 which, as I may say, was only taking the edge off his stomach 
 — his real hankering was after farming — and above all the 
 tiptop of his ambition was to have a landed estate of his 
 own for his agricultural pursuits. " No leasing or rentingfor 
 me," he used to say, " but a regular out-and-out freehold, if 
 it's ever so small, where I can turn out my hobby into my 
 own fields. For if there's an enviable character on the 
 earth," said he, " it's a Proprietor of the Soil, that can stand 
 on his own ground with his own clay sticking to his shoes, 
 and say, ' Here I am, a landloi'd, and all between the sky 
 and the centre is my own.' " Which, for a long time, in the 
 depressed state of business, seemed only a Utopian idea, no 
 more to be realised than the Pennsylvanian bonds. How- 
 ever, what with one lucky spec' and another, prospects im- 
 proved, and particulai'ly by a bankrupt, intending to make 
 himself scarce, who sold his whole stock to us, at sixty per 
 cent, discount, for cash down, whereby we realised con- 
 siderably, being able to undereell all the rest of the trade — 
 not such a sum, to be sui-e, as would enable us to buy one 
 of those splendid domains or manors constantly advertised 
 by Mr. Robins, but enough to purchase a snug little bit of 
 land in England, or a good track of it in Australia, New 
 Zealand, or the United States ; between which the governor, 
 as I call him, having no objection to go abroad, and being 
 
 VOL. X. «>1
 
 482 A LETTER FROM THE CAPE. 
 
 ambitious of farming on a large scale, was studying to 
 make up his mind, when one day he came home from the 
 City all cock-a-hoop with the news that a Mr. Braggins 
 had a vast quantity of laud to dispose of at the Cape of 
 Good Hope, at the unprecedented low price of a shilling an 
 acre. 
 
 " That's the place," said he, " for my investment. Im- 
 proveable land of course, or it wouldn't be so reasonable ; 
 and, as such, offering opportunities for drawing out its capa- 
 bilities by chemical cultivation." And nothing would serve 
 him but I must clap on my hat at once, and go off with 
 him to Mr. Braggins, whom we found in his office, hung 
 round with maps of the country, and ground plans of the 
 African estates. 
 
 " I believe," said Father, plunging at once in medias res, 
 ' you have some foreign land to dispose of?" 
 
 " Yes — there it is," said Mr. Braggins, jumping down from 
 his stool, and pointing with his finger to the biggest map — 
 "all that tract marked red, beginning here at Bavian Boomjes 
 — a noble expanse, calling aloud on Man, with his physical 
 and intellectual energies, to convert it from a wilderness to a 
 fertile and populous province — a Land of Promise, only 
 awaiting civilisation's dairies and apiaries to overflow with 
 milk and honey." 
 
 " And what's the general quality of the soil ? " asked my 
 father. 
 
 " Why, to be candid," said Mr. Braggins, " there are worse 
 and there are better. Not quite so rich as the fat loams of 
 Kent, nor exactly so hard and sordid as the bare bleak rocks 
 of Cornwall. It needs cultivation of course, being virgin 
 earth fresh from the hands of nature ; rather day, and there- 
 fore requiring the less outlay for draining." 
 
 " And stiff 1 " asked my father.
 
 A LETTER FROM THE CAPE. 433 
 
 " Why, medium ; but remarkably free from stones, roots, 
 or stubbs, — an eligible substance for the operations of the 
 plough, or spade husbandry if prefeiTed. As I said before, a 
 soil not superlatively rich in quality, but amply compensated 
 by a feature of commanding advantage, namely, the proximitv 
 to the African Islands, with an unlimited supply of guano, 
 that miraculous manure that has proved the salvation of the 
 British Farmer ; and which, if spread thick enough, must, by 
 analogy, produce the most abundant harvests." 
 
 " And the climate 1 " said my father. 
 
 " Superb. None of those cloudy, foggy skies, the curse of 
 England, and the reproach of foreigners ; but deeply, beauti- 
 fully blue, with a tropical sun, as Byron says — 
 
 ' Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, 
 But one unclouded blaze of living light,' — 
 
 entirely superseding stoves and hot beds, and all our expen- 
 sive apparatus for the production of melons and cowcum- 
 bers ; to say nothing of the grape, and the possible luxury of 
 quaffing your own Cape, home-made, under jowr own eye, 
 with due regard to the fermentation, and which is all that is 
 necessary to render it a racy, generous wine, equal to the 
 most celebrated vintages of the Bacchanalian provinces of 
 the Continent." 
 
 " What, equal to sherry f said I. 
 
 " Why, no," said Mr. Braggins, " not exactly equal, but su- 
 perior — positively superior to some qualities of the Spanish 
 juice ; and especially should you be favoxired, during the 
 ripening of the fruit, by the presence of one of those eccen- 
 tric heavenly visitors, a comet, like the famous one of 1S22. 
 Then, if you're horticultiu-al, the gifts of Flora, including 
 the rarest exotics of our conservatories, flourish in luxuriant 
 profusion — the Scipio Africanus and the African marigold, iu
 
 484 A LETTER FROM THE CAPE. 
 
 their most splendid varieties, growing indigenous in the open 
 
 air." 
 
 " And as to the sporting ?" I inquired. 
 
 " Oceans of game, sir, oceans, and self-protected — the 
 poacher, that bane of our fercB naturce, being unknown ; 
 and, on the other hand, no manorial rights to be in- 
 fringed, nor jealous preserver offended, in your uncertificated 
 pursuit of your sport. No, sir ; you'll be monarch of all 
 you survey, as the poem says, and lord of the fowl and the 
 brute." 
 
 " But to return to the farming," interrupted my father ; 
 " I should like to pursue both pasture and arable." 
 
 " Well, my good sir," said Mr. Braggins, " the land is 
 equally adapted for either ; as fit to pasture cattle, as capable 
 of bearing corn." 
 
 "And suppose I should fancy," said my father, "to breed 
 and fatten live stock 1" 
 
 " Nothing better, sir, a certain speculation. The animals 
 in that country have a natural tendency to take on fat — for 
 example, the well-known Cape sheep, whose tails become one 
 mass of living mutton tallow, which is supported, and 
 trundles after them in a sort of go-cart or truck. And talk- 
 ing of mutton, reminds me to mention its piquant accessaiy, 
 capers, a common weed, which you will have for the mere 
 picking, as gratis as groundsel. Yes, sir, breed and fatten. 
 You may judge by the sheep what your cattle will be. 
 Your fat bullocks will vie with our Smithfield Club prize 
 oxen, and even your lean beasts will be equalled to the 
 stock that is imported form Holland, under Sir Robert's 
 New Tariff-." 
 
 " Very good," said my father, rubbing his hands. " I 
 have heard and read of the African sheep. And how as to 
 the natives — no fear of their coming down on a moonlight 
 
 .,5 
 
 1
 
 A LETTER FROM THE CAPE. 485 
 
 night from the hills like a band of rude barbarians, as the 
 play says, and sweeping our flocks and herds 1 " 
 
 " Oh, none in the world," said Mr, Braggins. " The 
 nearest tribe is the Gondolas, or Dongolas, and they are 
 limited to a distance of a hundred and fifty miles, by an 
 express treaty with King Tongataboo, in consideration of an 
 annual tribute — a mere trifle, six gross of brass buttons and 
 a few bucketfuls of cowries, a sort of foreign sea-shell, plenti- 
 ful as periwinkles, that you may pick up by millions, billions, 
 and trillions, on the seacoast." 
 
 " Yes, I have read of cowries," said my father, " they serve 
 for money." 
 
 " No, sir, no," resumed Mr. Braggins, " there will be few 
 natives, black or white, to trespass on a delicious solitude, 
 where banishing conventional forms, the restraints of etiquette, 
 and the trammels of fashion, you may live in almost the 
 primeval simplicity of a state of nature." 
 
 " But I shall want labourers — ploughmen, herdsmen, and 
 cowboys and the like," said my father. 
 
 " True, sir," said Mr, Braggins ; " and if you don't object 
 to Black labour, which, except the clean look to the eye, is 
 quite equal to white, you may get slaves at first hand, from 
 the interior, for a mere trifle — or with a little management 
 you may catch your own. And talking of the interior, should 
 you fancy such an excursion, and have a turn for trafiic, you 
 can barter with the natives ; and between ourselves, there 
 are unprecedented bargains to be obtained of their commer- 
 cial simplicity. For instance, if you have a matrimonial 
 partner, (my father nodded,) she'd get ostrich feathers, equal 
 to any from the court plumassiers, for a mere song. As for 
 gold dust, sir, you may roll in it — and pick up elephant's 
 teeth, almost as cheaply as Sinbad did when he was intro- 
 duced to their monster cemetery."
 
 486 A LETTER FROM THE CAPE. 
 
 " Egad ! " cried my father, " the estate has so many desir- 
 able advantages, I wonder you don't turn farmer, sir, and 
 settle on it yourself ! " 
 
 "Ah, city habits," said Mr. Braggins, "city habits. All 
 my thoughts and feelings are town made : and whatever 
 some people may say, I prefer consols at ninety-eight, to a 
 landed investment. The truth is, I have not, like you, Mr. 
 What's-yoior-name, a pastoral bias, or any rural sympathies. 
 If I had, tJiere would be my location," and he placed his 
 finger again on the map, just beyond Bavian Boomjes — "a 
 little Goshen, enclosed in a magnificent panorama, including 
 the Table Mountain with all its hospitable associations, and 
 that singular meteorological phenomenon, called ' laying the 
 cloth.' " 
 
 " And now," said my father, " there is only one thing 
 more that I want to know, and expect a candid answer, — 
 and that is, how you can afford to sell your land so dirt 
 cheap ? " 
 
 " Of course," said Mr. Braggins, " the most frank and open 
 explanation will be afforded without reserve. In the first 
 place, then, the expense, to the purchaser, of going out so 
 far, is liberally taken into consideration ; and secondly, the 
 land is unsettled waste land, without churches, without high- 
 ways, and altogether free of that modem curse, a surplus 
 population ; and consequently, unburthened with tithes, 
 parish, and poor-rates, that press so heavily on land like so 
 many incubuses, in England." 
 
 " That's enough ! " cried my father, who you know is a 
 bit of a radical. " That's the country for me ! No in- 
 solent squirearchy or proud aristocracy to snub and brow- 
 beat, and cut a retired tradesman ; no rapacious clergy 
 to take the tenth of his pigs and poultry ; and no tax-ga- 
 therers and collectors, with their six quarters to the year,
 
 A LETTER FROM THE CAPE. 487 
 
 and a half year always due. Yes, that's the country for 
 me!" 
 
 To shorten a long story, my father bought five thousand 
 acres of the Cape land outright, with the title deeds to the 
 same : and I do believe he was as happy as if he had got a 
 slice of Paradise in a ring fence. The hopes and dreams of 
 his life seemed fulfilled at last ; and it was better than half 
 the Speeches at the Agricultural Meetings, to hear him talk 
 of di'illing, and ploughing, and manuring, and draining by 
 irrigation, and salts, and carbon, and ammonia, and nitrogen, 
 and hydromel, and oxymel, and ashes, and guano, and how 
 he would subsoil and top-dress, with a rotation of crops. In 
 fact it was a perfect monomania, so that he could hardly ex- 
 press his sentiments on the cut of a coat, without prefacing 
 as one of the landed interest ; and scarcely allowed himself 
 time for his meals, with trotting about town to look at 
 patent chafFcutters, and prize ploughs, and other new 
 invented agricultural implements. All which helped to keep 
 him agog ; and especially the Times, day after day, with its 
 long list of vessels bound direct to the Cape, or with leave 
 to touch at it, till he had not patience to wait for the wind- 
 ing up of the business, but one morning walked ofi" to the 
 broker's and engaged berths for himself and me, by the very 
 first ship ; our departure being kept as snug and secret as 
 possible, the governor judging that if it was known he was 
 a landed proprietor, he should be beset by all our poor rela- 
 tions on both sides of the house, to be made stewards, and 
 bailiffs, and the like. In the meanwhile, Samuel was to dis- 
 pose of the stock, premises, and goodwill, and then to follow 
 abroad with my mother, as soon as advised to that effect, 
 after our arrival on the estate . 
 
 I need not describe our voyage, which was much the same 
 as usual, with waves mountams high, and sea-sickness in pro-
 
 488 A LETTER FROM THE CAFE. 
 
 portion ; but the governor's prospects kept him up under it, 
 and me too. " Coui-age, Joseph," says he, " we shall soon 
 dee land, and, what's more, land of our own. Five thousand 
 acres is no bad lot ; and you'll have all the shooting over it 
 to yovu'self, — wild tui-keys and peacocks, and all, and which I 
 take it will be a vast deal better sport than popping at Bat- 
 tersea blue rocks, or Chalk Farm sparrows." 
 
 " No doubt of it," said I, " but in the meantime this up 
 and down motion is very unpleasant to endure." 
 
 " Not if you think of it agriculturally," said the govex-nor. 
 " Only hills and valleys, Joseph, only hills and valleys. A 
 desirable diversity of high and low ground, such as I trust 
 the estate is ; and therefore, with wood and watei", capable 
 of being laid out picturesque." 
 
 Well, at long and at last, we arrived at Cape Town ; 
 and after an interview with Mr. Braggins's agent set out, 
 as advised by him, in a bullock-waggon, driven by a black 
 Hottentot, who knew every inch of the country, to inspect 
 the estate, which, however, lay much further off than was 
 expected or agreeable ; but, for want of milestones, cannot 
 tell the distance, except that it took us two whole days 
 and a half to travel ; the country getting wilder and wilder 
 as we went on, more tangled with outlandish brushwood, 
 and encumbered with broken ground, till the waggon could 
 get no further. Luckily we were close to Bavian Boomjes, 
 and there was only a wooded hill between us and the pro- 
 perty to traverse on foot, which we did, leaving the Hotten- 
 tot in charge of the waggon and bullocks ; and on emerging 
 at the other side of the hill, lo ! and behold, there was our 
 estate lying before us as flat as a pancake, and as yellow 
 as a guinea ! 
 
 I really thought my father would have gone off in an 
 apoplexy on the spot ; his face tui'ued, through the blue of
 
 A LETTER FROM THE CAPE. 489 
 
 disappointment and the crimson of rage, into such a deep 
 purple. "Scrape a grave in it," says he, as soon as he 
 could speak, " scrape a grave in it, Joseph, and buiy me at 
 once, for I'm a dead landlord ! Land, indeed ! I've come 
 into five thousand acres of sand — desert sand — and if I'm 
 not mistaken," says he, turning from pui-ple to white, 
 " there's a lion on it ! " As in fact there was, beside a 
 thicket, about as far off from us as our shop from the 
 church. 
 
 You may imagine our terror ! But though the beast 
 lifted up his head from between his paws to look at us, and 
 gave a flourish with his tail, and gi-owled a little, he did 
 not rise, but allowed us to run off, which we did at double 
 quick ; and, indeed, as regards my father, at a supematiural 
 pace, considering his age and bulk, and the heat of a broiling 
 hot tropical sun. I feared at first he would have a fever in 
 consequence, which providentially is not the case ; but he has 
 hardly eaten or drunk, or spoken a syllable ever since, 
 through mortification and dejection ; and no wonder, for if 
 ever there was Agricultural Distress in this world it is his. 
 What we are to do with the estate Lord knows. Some gi-eat 
 people would, pei-haps, have interest enough to get a railroad 
 brought through it, and so obtain compensation ; but that is 
 not our case. As to the agent, in answer to our remon- 
 strances, he only asks what sort of land we could expect 
 for a shilling an acre ; and says, that instead of objecting to 
 the lion, we ought to consider him in the light of a bonus. 
 
 The purport of the present is, therefoi'e, to beg that you 
 will break the news to mother and Samuel, who, no doubt, 
 are looking forward to an African Juan Fernandes, and plan- 
 ning a farm ornay. And in the meantime I need not re- 
 commend keej)ing the thing quiet ; our only chance being to 
 get some friend or customer to take the estate off oiu* hands,
 
 I 
 
 490 REVIEW. 
 
 by the same flourishing representations that Mr Braggins 
 made to us. 
 
 I am, dear Uncle, 
 
 Your dutiful and loving nepheAf, 
 
 Joseph Muller, junior. 
 
 REVIEW, 
 
 The Chimes : A Goblin jStory. By Charles Dickens. 
 
 This is another of those seasonable books, intended by Boz 
 to stir up and awaken the kindly feelings, which are generally 
 diffused amongst mankind ; but too apt, as Old Weller says 
 to lie dormouse in the human bosom. It is similar in plan 
 to the Christmas Carol, but is scarcely so happy in its sub- 
 ject — it could not be — as that famous Gobbling Story with 
 its opulence of good cheer and all the Gargantuan festivity 
 of that hospitable tide. New Year's Day is a graver season, 
 its rejoicings associated with sterner reflections, its lights 
 with darker shadows ; its promises and hopes with regrets 
 and tears ; and its bells have tones of melancholy as well as 
 of mirth in their chimes. 
 
 The hero of the tale is one Toby Veck — we wish that sur- 
 name had been more English in its sound, it seems to want 
 an outlandish De or Van before it — a little old London 
 ticket-porter, — who does not know the original, and his 
 humble dwelling down the mews, with his wooden-cardboard 
 at the door, with his name and occupation, and the N. B. 
 " Messuages carefully delivered" ! But for fear of mistake, 
 here he is.
 
 REVIEW. 491 
 
 "They called him Trotty from his pace, which meant speed if it didn't 
 make it. He could have walked faster perhaps ; most likely ; but rob 
 him of his trot, and Toby would have taken to his bed and died. It be- 
 spattered him with mud in dirty weather ; it cost him a world of trouble ; 
 he could have walked with infinitely greater ease ; but that was one rea- 
 son for his clinging to it so tenaciously. A weak, email, spare old man, 
 he was a very Hercules, this Toby, in his good intentions. He loved to 
 earn his money. He delighted to believe — Toby was very poor, and 
 couldn't well afford to part with a delight — that he was worth his salt. 
 With a shilling or an eighteenpenny message or small parcel in hand, 
 his courage, always high, rose higher. As he trotted on, he would call out 
 to fast postmen ahead of him to get cut of the way ; devoutly believing 
 that, in the natural course of things, he must inevitably overtake and run 
 them down ; and he had perfect faith — not often tested — in his being able 
 to carry anything that man could lift. 
 
 *' Thus, even when he came out of his nook to warm himself on a wet 
 day, Toby trotted. Making, with his leaky shoes, a crooked line of slushy 
 footprints in the mire ; and blowing on his chilly hands, and rubbing them 
 against each other, poorly defended from the searching cold by threadbare 
 mufflers of grey worsted, with a private apartment only for the thumb, and 
 a common room or tap for the rest of the fingers ; Toby, with his knees 
 bent, and his cane beneath his arm, still trotted. Falling out into the 
 road to look up at the belfry when the Chimes resounded, Toby trotted still." 
 
 His regular stand, where he phed for jobs, was just outside 
 of the door of St. Magnus's Church (nicely drawn by Stan- 
 field), a haunt selected rather out of an old regard for the 
 chimes in the belfry than for any peculiar comfort about 
 the place, which in fact was no snuggery, but at times 
 windy enough to scatter the froth — no — to blow the porter's 
 head off. 
 
 " And a bree2y, goose-skinned, blue-nosed, red eyed, stony-toed, tooth- 
 chattering place it was, to wait in in the winter time, as Toby Veck well 
 knew. The wind came tearing round the corner — especially the east wind 
 — as if it had sallied forth express, from the confines of the earth, to have a 
 blow at Toby. And oftentimes it seemed to come upon him sooner than it 
 had expected ; for, bouncing round the corner, and passing Toby, it would 
 suddenly wheel round again, as if it cried, 'Why, here he is I' Inconti- 
 nently his little white apron would be caught up over his head like a 
 naughty boy's garments, and his feeble little cane would be seen to wrestle 
 and struggle unavailiugly in his hand, and his legs would undergo tremen-
 
 492 REVIEW. 
 
 dous agitation, and Toby himself all aslant, and facing now in this direc- 
 tion, now in that, would be so banged and buffeted, and touzled, and 
 worried, and hustled, and lifted off his feet, as to render it a state of things 
 but one degree removed from a positive miracle that he wasn't carried up 
 bodily into the air as a colony of frogs or snails, or other portable crea 
 tures, sometimes are, and rained down again, to the great astonishment 
 of the natives, on some strange corner of the world where ticket-porters are 
 unknown." 
 
 Now, amongst the characteristics of Toby Veck was one, 
 the hinge upon which the whole story turns ; a propensity, 
 not very porter-like, to think small-beer of himself and the 
 whole order of poor people in general — and small beer of the 
 worst sort, too, sour, and good for nothing. He held and 
 allowed that they were one and all born bad — could not do 
 right or go right — always committing dreadful things, and 
 giving a great deal of trouble — intruders who had no busi- 
 ness on the face of the earth, and without even a right to a 
 new year. « 
 
 Expressions that, vented ironically, or bitterly, would 
 sound naturally enough ; but that Toby Veck, full of kindly 
 impulses, and munificent for his means, a practical philan- 
 thropist, a very carrier-pigeon of a porter, should entertain 
 such hard harsh opinions in common with the cold-blooded 
 economists and utilitarians, the Filers of the day, is a little 
 startling ; and presents a difficulty only to be got over by a 
 strong reliance on the author's knowledge of life, and a re- 
 membrance of the strange anomalies of human nature. Per- 
 haps as a sort of beast of burthen, a common fardel beai-er, 
 he had acquired such a passive camel-like humility as made 
 him kneel down in spirit to receive any load, moral or 
 physical, that might be laid upon him : however, such was 
 his bias — making us sometimes a little out of patience with 
 his patience, for instance, at his putting up with the " Put- 
 ting Down" of that civic nuisance Alderman Cute. Surely
 
 REVIEW. 493 
 
 the porter is drawn too mild, when 1 e concurs in snch a 
 lecture as is delivered by the justice, in Toby's presence, to 
 Toby's daughter, for only contemplating lawful matrimony 
 with young Richard, the smith. 
 
 " ' You are going to be married, you say,' pursued the Alderman. 
 'Very unbecoming and indelicate in one of your sex ! But never mind 
 that. After you are married, you'll quarrel with your husband, and come 
 to be a distressed wife. You may think not ; but you will, because I tell 
 you so. Now I give you fair warning, that I have made up my mind to put 
 distressed wives down. So don't be brought before me. You'll have chil- 
 dren — boys. Those boys will grow up bad of course, and run wild in the 
 streets, without shoes and stockings. Mind, my young friend ! I'll convict 
 cm summarily, every one ; for I am determined to put boys without shoes 
 and stockings down. Perhaps your husband will die young (most likely), 
 and leave you with a baby. Then you'll be turned out of doors, and wan- 
 der up and down the streets. Now don't wander near me, my dear, for I 
 am resolved to put all wandering mothers down. All young mothers, 
 of all sorts and kinds, it's my determination to put down. Don't think to 
 p.'ead illness as an excuse with me ; or babies as an excuse with me ; for 
 all sick persons and young children (I hope you know the church -service, 
 but I am afraid not) I am determined to put down. And if you attempt, 
 desperately, and ungratefully, and impiously, and fraudulently attempt, to 
 drown yourself, or hang yourself, I'll have no pity on you, for I have made 
 up my mind to put all suicide down. If there is one thing,' said the 
 Alderman, with his self-satisfied smile, ' on which I can be said to have 
 made up my mind more than on another, it is to put suicide down. So 
 don't try it on. That's the phrase, isn't it ! Ha, ha ! now we under- 
 stand each other.' " 
 
 There, reader, is a nice magistrate to sit on a bench, and 
 judge and sentence, not only the guilty but the unfortunate ! 
 Fit President for a new Inhumane Society, for punishing the 
 rescued unhanged and undrowned ! In the name of poetical 
 justice, why did not the Bells with their warning voices din, 
 clapperclaw, and ring their iron lessons into Mm ? Why did 
 not the Goblins of the Chimes steeplechase and haunt that 
 cold bad man, with a heart hard as Haytor granite, instead 
 of poor Trotty, and startle and wTcnch his selfish soul with 
 phantasmal shows of his own daughter with her babe, driven
 
 494 REVIEW. 
 
 by iufamy and destitution to the suicidal pluuge in the 
 river 1 Surely he required such a schooling on Bells' system, 
 infinitely more than the porter, of Humanity's Entire, whose 
 hospitable heart and door opened so readily to the outcast 
 labourer Will Fern and his orphan niece ! That picture is 
 true : for the poor are notoriously kind and tender to the 
 poor ; and why 1 — because they know practically the extreme 
 wants, the urgent temptations and terrible trials to which 
 their ragged fellow-beings are exposed ; and necessarily think 
 charitably and indulgently of each other, and extend to their 
 failings and misdeeds a large allowance. Accordingly the 
 Toby of the tale is a Shandean one, full of the milk of 
 human kindness ; and, therefore, when he says that the poor 
 are all bad by birth, habit, and repute, we feel, in spite of 
 the author, that Toby must be only facetious or ironical, 
 merely parodying the Cutes and Filers ; and, consequently, 
 that there is no Casus Belli to justify the bellowing chorus 
 of " Hunt him, and haunt him ! Break his slumbers ! 
 Break his slumbers !" On the contrary, he seems hardly 
 used by the Bells, and has good reason to complain, like 
 the thief in the old story, of their long tongues and empty 
 heads. 
 
 However, Trotty Veck, having just read in a newspaper 
 an account of a mother laying violent hands on herself and 
 her own infant at once, overlooking the desperation of shame, 
 the dread of imminent starvation, and perhaps insanity itself, 
 ascribes the deed to the wholesale depravity of the lower 
 orders. 
 
 " 'Unnatural and cruel!' Toby cried. ' Unnatural and cruel ! None 
 but people who were bad at heart — born bad — who had no business on the 
 earth — could do such deeds. It's too true, all I've heard to-day j too just, 
 too full of proof. We're bad !' " 
 
 For this ofience he is stunned and lectured by the Bells
 
 EEVIEW. 495 
 
 and mobbed by the Goblins ; and, like Scrooge, undergoes 
 an awful vision, in which he sees his own daughter, impelled 
 by destitution and misgivings as to the future destiny of her 
 infant, to drown herself and her babe. In his struggles to 
 prevent the catastrophe, the Porter awakes, and discovers 
 that he has only been dreaming a bad dream, induced by a 
 too hearty dinner of tripe. His Margaret is safe and sound 
 beside him, preparing her dress for her marriage on New 
 Year's Day with Kichard the smith — an old fi'ieud, one 
 Mrs. Chickenstalker, drops in to congratulate, with a huge 
 pitcher of flip — the big drum, the handbells, and the marrow- 
 bones and cleavers, muster round ; and the story winds up 
 with one of those Bozzian merry-makings which leave eveiy- 
 body inclined to shake hands with everybody — and their own 
 left hand with the right. 
 
 Such, with some episodes, is the plot ; in the development 
 of which there occur various scenes of humour, pathos, and 
 power. Here is an unctuous riddle, pleasantly solved. 
 
 "'But what is it, father?' said Meg. 'Come! You havn't guessed 
 what it is. Aud jou must guess what it is. I can't think of taking it out 
 till you guess what it is. Don't be in such a hurry ! Wait a minute ! 
 A little bit more of the cover. Now guess !' 
 
 " Meg was in a perfect fright lest he should guess right too soon ; shrink- 
 ing away, as she held the basket towards him ; curling up her pretty 
 shoulders ; stopping her ear with her hand, as if, by so doing, she could 
 keep the right word out of Toby's lips ; and laughing softly the whole 
 time. 
 
 " Meanwhile Toby, putting a hand on each knee, bent down his nose to 
 the basket, and took a long inspiration at the lid ; the grin upon his 
 withered face expanding in the process, as if he were inhaling laughing gas. 
 
 " 'Ah ! It's very nice,' said Toby. 'It an"t — I suppose it an't 
 Polonies.' J^ 
 
 " 'No, no, no !' cried Meg delighted. 'Nothing like Polonies !' 
 
 " ' No,' said Toby, after another smiff. ' It's — it's mellower than Polo- 
 nies. It's very nice. It improves every moment. It's too decided for 
 Trotters. An't it !' 
 
 ' ' Meg was in an ecstacy. He could not have gone wider of the mark 
 than Trotters — except Polonies I
 
 496 REVIEW. 
 
 " Liver?' said Toby, communing with himself. 'No. Tliere's a 
 mildness about it that don't answer to liver. Pettitoes ? No. It an't 
 faint enough for pettitoes. It wants the stringiness of Cocks' heads. And 
 I know it an't sausages. I'll tell you what it is. It's chitterlings !' 
 
 •' ' No, it an't !' cried Meg, in a burst of delight, ' No, it an't !' 
 
 "'Why, what am I thinking of!' said Toby, suddenly recovering a 
 position as near the perpendicular as it was possible for him to assume. 
 • I shall forget my own name next. It's tripe !' 
 
 " Tripe it was ; and Meg, in high joy, protested he should say, in half a 
 minute more, it was the best tripe ever stewed." 
 
 On this savoury dish the Porter fell-to with great relish ; 
 
 for he knew by heart and stomach the truth of his own 
 
 observation — "there's nothing more regular in its coming 
 
 round than dinner-time ; and nothing less regular in its 
 
 coming round than the dinner." Yet with an appetite 
 
 stropped to a keen edge by exercise and the open air, he 
 
 could postpone his own cravings and sham repletion in favour 
 
 of a pair of chance guests — Will Fern and his niece — picked 
 
 up in the streets. 
 
 " 'Stay !' cried Trotty, catching at his hand, as he relaxed his grip. 
 ' Stay ! The New Tear never can be happy to me if we part like this. 
 The New Year never can be happy to me, if I see the child and you go 
 wandering away you don't know where, without a shelter for your heads. 
 Come home with me ! I'm a poor man, living in a poor place ; but I can 
 give you lodging for one night, and never miss it. Come home with me ! 
 Here ! I'll take her !' cried Trotty, lifting up the child. 'A pretty one ! 
 I'd carry twenty times her weight, and never know I'd got it. Tell me if 
 I go too quick for you. I'm very fast. I always was !' Trotty said this, 
 taking about six of his trotting paces to one stride of his fatigued com- 
 panion ; and with his thin legs quivering again beneath the load he bore. 
 
 " 'Why, she's as light,' said Trotty, trotting in his speech as well as 
 in his gait — for he couldn't bear to be thanked, and dreaded a moment's 
 pause — 'as light as a feather. Lighter than a peacock's feather — a good 
 deal lighter. Here we are, and here we go ! Bound this first turning to 
 the right. Uncle Will, and past the pump, arid sharp oflF up the passage to 
 the left, right opposite the public-house. Here we are, and here we go ! 
 Cross over. Uncle Will, and mind the kidney-pieman at the corner ! Here 
 we are, and here we go ! Down the Mews here, Uncle Will, and stop at 
 the back-door, with " T. Veck, Ticket Porter," wrote upon a board : and 
 here we are, and here we go, and here we are indeed, my precious Meg, 
 surprising you '
 
 REVIEW. 497 
 
 "With which words Trotty, in a breathless state, set the child down 
 before his daughter in the middle of the floor. The little visitor lc»oked 
 once at Meg ; and doubtiog nothing; in that face, but trusting everything 
 she saw there, ran into her arms. 
 
 " ' Here we are, and here we go ! ' cried Trotty, running round the 
 room and choking audibly, ' Here ! Uncle Will ! Here's a fire, ycm 
 know ! Why don't you come to the fire ? Oh, here we are, and here we 
 go ! Meg, my precious darling, where's the kettle ? Here it is, and here 
 it goes, and ifll bile in no time !' 
 
 "Trotty really had picked up the kettle somewhere or other in the 
 course of his wild career, and now put it on the fire ; while Meg, seating 
 the child in a warm corner, knelt down ou the ground before her, and 
 pulled off her shoes, and dried her wet feet on a cloth. Aye, and she 
 laughed at Trotty, too — so pleasantly, so cheerfully, that Trotty could have 
 blessed her where she kneeled ; for he had seen that, when they entered, 
 she was sitting by the fire in tears. 
 
 " 'Why, father !' said Meg, 'you're crazy to-night, I think. I don't 
 know what the Bells would say to that. Poor little feet. How cold they 
 are !' 
 
 " 'Oh, they're warmer now!' exclaimed the child, 'They're quite 
 
 warm now 
 
 " 'No, no, no,' said Meg. 'We havn't rubbed 'em half enough. 
 We're so busy. So busy ! And when they're done, we'll brush out the 
 damp hair ; and when that's done, we'll bring some colour to the poor pale 
 face with fresh water ; and when that's done, we'll be so gay, and brisk, 
 and happy — !' 
 
 " The child, in a buist of sobbing, clasped her round the neck ; caressed 
 her fair cheek with its hand : and said, ' Oh, Jleg, oh, dear Meg !' 
 
 " Toby's blessing could have done no more. Who could do more ! 
 
 " 'Why, father !' cried Meg, after a pause. 
 
 " 'Here I am, and here I go, my dear,' said Trotty. 
 
 " ' Good gracious me !' cried Meg. 'He's crazy ! He's put the dear 
 child's bonnet on the kettle, and hung the lid behind the door !' 
 
 " 'I didn't go to do it, my love,' said Trotty, hastily repairing this mis- 
 take. ' Meg, my dear V 
 
 " Meg looked towards him, and saw that he had elaborately stationed 
 himself behind the chair of their male visitor, where, with many mys- 
 terious gestures, he was holding up the sixpence he had earned. 
 
 " 'I see, my dear,' said Trotty, 'as I was coming in, half an ounce of 
 tea lying somewhere on the stairs ; and I'm pretty sure there was a bit of 
 bacon, too. As I don't remember where it was exactly, I'll go myself and 
 try to find 'em.' 
 
 "With this inscrutable artifice, Toby withdrew to purchase the viands 
 he had spoken of, for ready money, at Mrs. Chickenstalker s ; and presently 
 VOL. X, 32
 
 498 REVIEW. 
 
 came back, pretending that he had not been able to find them, at first, in 
 the daik. 
 
 " 'But here they are at last,' said Trotty, setting out the tea-thiugs, 
 ' all correct ! I was pretty sure it was tea, and a rasher. So it is. Meg, 
 my pet, if you'll just make the tea, while your unworthy father toasts the 
 bacon, we shall be ready immediate. It's a curious circumstance,' said 
 Trotty, proceeding in his cookery, with the assistance of the toasting-fork, 
 ' curious, but well known to my friends, that I never care myself for rashers, 
 nor for tea. I like to see other people enjoy 'em,' said Trotty, speaking 
 very loud, to impress the fact upon his guest ; ' but to me, as food, they're 
 disagreeable.' 
 
 "Yet Trotty sniffed the savour of the hissing bacon — ah ! — as if he liked 
 it ; and when he poured the boiling water in the teapot, looked lovingly 
 down into the depths of that snug cauldron, and sutfered the fragrant steam 
 to curl about his nose, and wreathe his head and face in a thick cloud. 
 However, for all this, he neither ate nor drank, except, at the very begin- 
 ning, a mere morsel for form's sake, which he appeared to eat with infinite 
 relish, but declared was perfectly uninteresting to him. 
 
 "No. Trotty's occupation was to see Will Fern and Lilian eat and drink; 
 and so was Meg's. And never did spectators at a city dinner or court 
 banquet find such delight in seeing others feast — although it were a 
 monarch or a pope — as those two did in looking on that night." 
 
 A very different entertainment is described as given by- 
 Sir Joseph Bowley, Baronet and M.P., the " friend and father 
 of the poor," in honour of his lady's birthday — a plum-pud- 
 ding dinner to the tenantry, accompanied by one of those 
 interludes, or farces, so in vogue with a certain party, who in 
 imitation of the proverbial eccentricity of driving carts be- 
 fore horses, and lighting candles at the wrong end, forgetting 
 that Leisure results from Labour, and Pastime from Leisure 
   — provide starving, naked, and houseless people with bats, 
 balls, and stumps, instead of food, clothes and lodging. 
 
 Accordingly, in lieu of lowering rents and raising wages, 
 Sir Joseph and his son condescendingly played a game at 
 skittles with the peasantry ; " and everybody said that now, 
 when a baronet and the son of a baronet played at skittles, 
 the country was coming round again as fast as it could 
 come." There was however one dissentient. "The La-
 
 KEVIEW. 499 
 
 bourer " had beon drunk as a toast, and the outcast labourer 
 Will Fern, intruding on the festival, thus delivered his " ex- 
 periences " on the subject. 
 
 " * G^entlefolks, I've lived many a year in this place. You may see the 
 cottage from the sunk fence over yonder. I've seen the ladies draw it in 
 their books a hundred times. It looks well in a picter, I've heerd say ; 
 but there an't weather in picters, and maybe 'tis fitter for that, than for a 
 place to live in. Well 1 I lived there. How hard — how bitter hard, I 
 lived there, I won't say. Any day in the year, and every day, you can 
 judge for your own selves !' 
 
 "He spoke as he had spoken on the night when Trotty found him in the 
 street. His voice was deeper and more husky, and had a trembling in it 
 now and then ; but he never raised it passionately, and seldom lifted it 
 above the firm stern level of the homely facts he stated. 
 
 " ''Tis harder than you think for, gentlefolk, to grow up decent — com- 
 monly decent — in such a place. That I growed up a man, and not a brute, 
 says something for me — as I was then. As I am now, there's nothing can 
 be said for me, or done for me. I'm past it.' 
 
 " ' I am glad this man has entered,' observed Sir Joseph, looking round 
 serenely. ' Don't disturb him. It appears to be ordained. He is an ex- 
 ample — a living example. I hope and trust, and confidently expect, that 
 it will not be lost upon my friends here.' 
 
 " 'I dragged on,' said Fern, after a moment's silence, 'somehow. 
 Neither me nor any other man knows how ; but so heavy that I couldn't 
 put a cheerful face upon it, or make believe that I was anything but what 
 I was. Now, gentlemen — you gentlemen that sits at Sessions — when you 
 see a man with discontent writ on his face, you says to one another, ' He's 
 suspicious. I has my doubts,' says you, ' about Will Fern. Watch that 
 fellow !' I don't say, gentlemen, it ain't quite nat'ral, but I say 'tis so ; 
 und from that hour, whatever Will Fern does, or let's alone— all one — it 
 goes against him.' 
 
 "Alderman Cute stuck his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, and leaning 
 back in his chair, and smiling, winked at a neighbouring chandelier. As 
 much as to say, ' Of course ! I told you so. The common cry ! Lord 
 bless you, we are up to all this sort of thing — myself and human nature.' 
 
 " ' Now, gentlemen,' said Will Fern, holding out his hands, and flush- 
 ing for an instant, in his haggard face ; ' see how your laws are made to 
 trap and hunt us when we're brought to this. I tries to live elsewhere ; 
 and I'm a vagabond. To jail with him ! I comes back here. I goes a 
 nutting in your woods, and breaks — who don't ?— a limber branch or two. 
 To jail with him ! One of your keepers sees me in the broad day, near my 
 own patch of garden, with a gun. To jail with him ! I has a nat'ial
 
 500 REVIEW. 
 
 angry word with that man, when I'm free again. To jail with him ! I 
 cuts a stick. To jail with him ! I eats a rotten apple or a turnip. To 
 jail with him ! It's twenty mile away ; and coming back, I begs a trifle 
 on the road. To jail with him ! At last the constable, the keeper — any- 
 body—finds me anywhere, a doing anything. To jail with him, for he's a 
 vagrant, and a jail-bird known ; and jail's the only home he's got.' 
 
 " ' The Alderman nodded sagaciously, as who should say, ' A very good 
 home too !' 
 
 " 'Do I say this to serve mt cause !' cried Fern. 'Who can give me 
 back my liberty, who can give me back my good name, who can give me 
 back my innocent niece ? Not all the Lords and Ladies in wide England. 
 But, gentlemen, gentlemen, dealing with other men like me, begin at the 
 right end. Give us, in mercy, better homes when we're a lying in our 
 cradles ; give us better food when we're a working for our lives ; give us 
 kinder laws to bring us back when we're a going wrong ; and don't set 
 Jail, Jail, Jail, afore us everywhere we turn. There an't a condescension 
 you can show the Labourer then that he won't take, as ready and as grate- 
 ful as a man can be ; for he has a patient, peaceful, willing heart. But 
 you must put his rightful spirit in him first ; for whether he's a wreck and 
 ruin such as me, or is like one of them that stand here now, his spirit is 
 divided from you at this time. Bring it back, gentlefolks, bring it back ! 
 Bring it back afore the day comes when even his Bible changes in his 
 altered mind, and the words seem to him to read, as they have sometimes 
 read in my own eyes — in Jail : ' Whither thou goest I can Not go ! where 
 thou lodgest, I do Not lodge ; thy people are Not my people ! Nor thy God 
 my God!'" 
 
 We have pointed out what seems to us the flaw or defect 
 in the "Chimes;" and have now only to hang them with 
 our warmest good wishes. May they be widely and wisely 
 heai-d, inculcating their wholesome lessons of charity and for- 
 bearance — reminding wealth of the claims of Want, — the 
 feasting of the fasting, and inducing them to spare something 
 for an aching void from their comfortable repletion.
 
 601 
 
 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 
 
 "Gape, sioner, and swallow." — Meo Merrilies. 
 
 It is now just a year since we reviewed Miss Martineau's 
 " Life in the Sick Room," and left the authoress set in for a 
 house-ridden invalid, alternating between her bed and the 
 sofa ; unable to walk out of doors, but enjoying through her 
 window and a telescope the prospect of gi'een downs and 
 heath, an old priory, a limekiln, a colliery railway, an ancient 
 church, a windmill, a farm, with hay and corn stacks, a 
 market garden, gossipping farmers, sportsmen, boys flying 
 kites, washerwomen, a dairymaid feeding pigs, the light 
 houses, harbour, and shipping of Newcastle-on-Tyne, and a 
 large assortment of objects, pastoral, marine, and picturesque. 
 There we left the " sick prisoner," as we supposed, quite 
 aware of a condition beyond remedy, and cheerfully made up 
 for her fate by the help of philosophy, laudanum, and Chris- 
 tian resignation. 
 
 There never was a greater mistake. Instead of the pre- 
 sumed calm submission in a hopeless case, the invalid was 
 intently watching the progress of a new curative legerdemain, 
 sympathising with its repudiated professors, and secretly in- 
 tending to try whether her own chronic complaint could not 
 be conjured away with a " Hey, pi-esto ! pass and repass ! " 
 like a pea from under the thimble. The experiment it seems 
 has been made, and lo ! like one of the patients of the old 
 quacksalvers, forth comes Miss Martineau on the public 
 stage, proclaiming to the gaping crowd how her long-stand- 
 ing, inveterate complaint, that baffled all the doctors, has 
 been charmed away like a wart, and that, from being a help-
 
 502 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 
 
 less cripple, she has thrown away her crutches, literal or 
 metaphorical, and can walk a mile as well as any Milesian. 
 And this miraculous cure, not due to Hollo way. Parr, Mori- 
 son, or any of the rest of the faculty, nor to any marvellous 
 ointment, infallible pills, or new discoveiy in medicine, but 
 solely to certain magical gesticulations, as safe, pleasant, and 
 easy as playing at cat's cradle — in short, by Mesmerism ! 
 
 Now we are, as we have said before, the greatest Invalid 
 in England ; with a complication of complaints requiring 
 quite a staff of physicians, each to watch and treat the 
 particular disease which he has made his peculiar study : as, 
 one for the heart, another for the lungs, a third for the 
 stomach, a fourth for the liver, and so on. Above all, we 
 are incapable of pedestrian locomotion ; lamer than Crutched 
 Friars, and, between gout in our ancles and rheumatism in 
 our knees, could as easily walk on our head, like Quilp's boy, 
 as on our legs. It would delight us, therefore, to believe 
 that by no painful operation, but only a little posture-making 
 behind our back or to our face, we could be restored to the 
 use of our precious limbs, to walk like a Leaguer, and run 
 again like a renewed bill. But alas ! an anxious examination 
 of Miss Martineau's statements has satisfied us that there is 
 no chance of such a desirable consummation ; that, to use a 
 common phrase, " the news is too good to be true." We 
 have carefully waded through the Newcastle letters, occupy 
 ing some two dozen mortal columns of the " Athenaeum,' 
 and with something of the mystified feeling of having been 
 reading by turns and snatches in Moore's Almanack, Zad- 
 kiel's Astrology, a dream book, and a treatise on metaphysics, 
 have come to the sorrowful conclusion that we have as much 
 chance of a cure by Mesmerism, as of walking a thousand 
 miles in a thousand houi's through merely reading the con- 
 stant advertisements of the Patent Pedometer. A conviction
 
 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 503 
 
 not at all removed by an actual encounter with a professor, 
 who, after experimenting on the palms of our hands without 
 exciting any peculiar sensation, except that quivering of the 
 diaphragm which results from suppressed laughter, gravely 
 informed us — slipping through a pleasant loophole of re- 
 treat from all difl&culties — that " we were not in a fit 
 state." 
 
 The precise nature of Miss Martineau's complaint is not 
 stated ; nor is it material to be known except to the pro- 
 fessional man : the great fact, that after five years' confine- 
 ment to the house she can walk as many miles without 
 fatigue, thanks to the mysterious Ism, " that sadly wants a 
 new name," is a sufficient subject for wonder, curiosity, and 
 common sense to discuss. A result obtained, it appears, after 
 two months passed under the hands of three several persons 
 — a performance that must be reckoned rather slow for a 
 miracle, seeing that if we read certain passages aright, a 
 mesmeriser " with a white hat and an illuminated profile, 
 like a saint or an angel," is gifted with powers little, if at all, 
 inferior to those of the old Apostles. The delay, moreover, 
 throws a doubt on the som'ce of relief, for there are many 
 diseases to which such an interval would allow of a natural 
 remission. 
 
 In the curative process, the two most remarkable pheno- 
 mena were — 1st, That a patient, with a weazel-like vigil- 
 ance, did not go as usual into the magnetic sleep or trance : 
 and, 2dly, That every glorified object before her was invested 
 with a peculiar light, so that a bust of Isis burnt with a 
 phosphoric splendour, and a black, dirty, Newcastle steam- 
 tug shone with heavenly radiance. Appearances, for which 
 we at once take the lady's word, but must decline her infer- 
 ence, that they had any influence in setting her on her legs 
 again. The nei-ves, and the optic ones especially, weie, no
 
 ^04 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 
 
 doubt, in a highly excited state : but that a five year old 
 lameness derived any relaxation from that effulgence we will 
 believe, when the broken heart of a soldier's widow is bound 
 up by a general illumination. Indeed, we remember once 
 to have been personally visited with such lights, that we saw 
 two candles instead of one — but we decidedly walked the 
 worse for it. 
 
 On the subject of other visionary appearances Miss Mar- 
 tineau is less explicit, or rather tantalizingly obscure ; for 
 after hinting that she has seen wonders above wonders, in- 
 stead of favouring us with her Revelations or Mysteries, like 
 Ainsworth or Eugene Sue, she plumply says that she means 
 to keep them to herself. 
 
 "Between this condition and the mesmeric sleep there is a state, trans- 
 ient and rare, of which I have had experience, but of wliich I intend to 
 give no account. A somnarabule calls it a glimmering of the lights of 
 somnambulism and clairvoyance. To me there appears nothing like glim- 
 mering in it. The ideas that I have snatched from it, and now retain, 
 are, of all ideas which ever visited me, the most lucid and impressive. It 
 may be well that they are incommunicable — partly from their nature and 
 relations, and partly from their unfitness for translation into mere words. 
 I will only say that the condition is one of no 'nervous excitement,' as far 
 as experience and outward indications can he taken as a test. Such a state 
 of repose, of calm translucent intellectuality, I had never conceived of ; and 
 no reaction followed, no excitement but that which is natural to every one 
 who finds himself in possession of a great new idea." 
 
 So that whether she obtained a glimpse of the New Jeru- 
 salem, or a peep into the World of Spirits, or saw the Old 
 Gentleman himself, is left to wide conjecture. Our own 
 guess, in the absence of all direction is, that she enjoyed a 
 mesmeric translation into another planet, and derived her 
 great idea from the Man in the Moon. 
 
 This, however, is not the only suppression. For instance, 
 it is said that one of the strongest powers of the girl J., the 
 somnambulist, was the discernment of disease, its condition
 
 DOJJlKSTIC MESMERISM. 505 
 
 and remedies ; that she cleared up her own case first, pre- 
 scribing for herself very fluently, and then medically advised 
 Miss Martineau, and that the treatment in both cases suc- 
 ceeded. Surely, in common charity to the afflicted, these 
 infallible remedies ought to have been published ; their 
 nature ought to have been indicated, if only to enable one 
 to judge of supernatuml prescribing compared with profes- 
 sional practice ; but so profound a silence is preserv'ed on 
 these points as to lead to the inevitable conclusion, that the 
 mesmeric remedies, like the quack medicines, are to be 
 secured by patent, and to be sold at so much a family bottle, 
 stamp included. One recipe only transpires, of so common- 
 place and popular character, and so little requiring inspira- 
 tion for its invention, — so ludicrously familiar to wide-awake 
 advisers, that our sides shake to record how Miss Martineau, 
 restless and sleepless for want of her abandoned opiates, 
 was ordered ale at dinner and brandy and water for a 
 nightcap. Oh, J. ! J. ! well does thy initial stand also for 
 Joker ! 
 
 In addition to these suppressions, one unaccountable omis- 
 sion has certainly staggered us, as much as if we had con- 
 sidered it through a couple of bottles of wine. In common 
 with ourselves, our clever friend T. L., and many other per- 
 sons — who all hear the music of the spheres, dumb-bells, and 
 other mute melodies, as distinctly as the rest of the world, 
 but of gross mundane sounds and noises are unconscious as 
 the adder — Miss Martineau is very deaf indeed. Here then 
 was an obvious subject for experiment, and having been so 
 easily cured of one infirmity, it seems only natural that it 
 should have occuiTcd to the patient to apply instanter to the 
 same agency for relief from another disability — that she 
 shoidd have requested her mesmeriser to quicken her hear- 
 ing as well as her pace. But on the contrary, her ear seems
 
 503 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 
 
 quite to have slipped out of her head ; and at an advanced 
 stage of the proceedings we find her awaiting J,'s revelations, 
 " with an American friend repeating to her on the instant, 
 on account of her deafness, every word as it fell." And to 
 make the omission more glaring, it is in the midst of specu- 
 lations on the mesmeric sharpening of another sense, till it 
 can see through deal-boards, mill-stones, and "barricadoes 
 as lustrous as ebony," that she neglects to ascertain whether 
 her hearing might not be so improved as to perceive sounds 
 through no denser medium than the common air ! Such an 
 interesting experiment in her own person ought surely to 
 have preceded the trials whether "J." could see, and draw 
 ships and churches, with her eyes shut ; and the still more 
 remote inquiry whether, at the day of judgment, we are to 
 rise with or without our bodies, including the auricular 
 organs. If dull people can be cured of stone-deafness by a 
 few magnetic passes, so pleasant a fact ought not to be con- 
 cealed ; whatever the consequence to the proprietors of 
 registered Voice Conductors and Cornets. 
 
 Along with this experiment, we should have been glad of 
 more circumstantial references to many successful ones 
 merely assumed and asserted. There is, indeed, nothing 
 throughout the Letters more singular than the complacency 
 with which we are expected to take disputed matters for 
 granted ; as if all her readers were in magnetic rapport with 
 the authoress, thinking as she thinks, seeing as she sees, and 
 believing as she believes. Thus the theory, that the mind 
 of the somnambiJist mirrors that of the mesmeriser, is de- 
 clared to be pretty clearly proved, " when an ignorant child, 
 ignorant especially of the Bible, discoui'ses of the Scriptures 
 and divinity with a clergyman, and of the nebula) with an 
 astronomer" — and when perfectly satisfactory to the writer — 
 but which sticks in our throat like its namesake, the English
 
 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 607 
 
 for goitre. We should be delighted to know the whereabouts 
 of that Wonderful Child, and its caravan. And here are 
 more whens — 
 
 What becomes of really divine inspiration when the commonest people 
 find they can elicit marvels of provision and insight ? What becomes of 
 the veneration for religious contemplation when ec&tasies are found to be 
 at the command of very unhallowed — wholly unauthorized hands ? What 
 becomes of the respect in which the medical profession ought to be held, 
 when the friends of the sick and suffering, with their feelings all alive, see 
 the doctor's skill and science overborne and set aside by means at the com- 
 mand of an ignorant neighbour, — means which are all ease and pleasant- 
 ness ? How can the profession hold its dominion over minds, however 
 backed by law and the opinion of the educated, when the vulgar see and 
 know that limbs are removed without pain, in opposition to the will of 
 doctors, and in spite of their denial of the facts ? What avails the decision 
 of a whole College of Surgeons that such a thing could not be, when a whole 
 town full of people know that it was? What becomes of the transmission 
 of fluid when the mesmerist acts, without concert, on a patient a hundred 
 miles off ? 
 
 To all of which Echo answers "When?" — whilst another 
 memorable one adds "Where?" In fact, had the letters 
 been delivered as speeches, the orator would continually have 
 been interrupted with such cries, and for "name ! name !" 
 
 In the same style we are told that we need not quarrel 
 about the name to be given to a power " that can make the 
 deaf and dumb hear and speak ; disperse dropsies, banish 
 fevers, asthmas, and paralysis, absorb tumours, and cause the 
 severance of nerve, bone, and muscle to be unfelt. Certainly 
 not — nor about the name to be bestowed on certain newly 
 invented magnetic rings that have appeared simultaneously 
 with the Newcastle letters, and are said to cure a great 
 variety of diseases. We only object — as we should in passing 
 a tradesman's accounts — to take mere items for facts that 
 are unsupported by vouchers. But it is obvious throughout 
 that Miss Martineau forgets she is not addressing magne- 
 tisers ; instead of considering herself as telling a ghost stoiy
 
 608 DOMESTIC MESMEKISM. 
 
 to people who did not believe in apparitiona, and conse- 
 quently fortifying her narrative with all possible evidence 
 corroborative and circumstantial This is evident from the 
 trusting simplicity with which she relates all the freaks and 
 fancies of the somnambulist J. iu spite of their glaring 
 absurdities and inconsistencies. For instance, her vocabulary 
 is complained of, with its odd and vulgar phrases, so inferior 
 to the high tone of her ideas, and the subjects of her dis. 
 course : whereas, like the child that talked of nebula?, and 
 was up to astronomical technicals, she ought to have used as 
 refined language as her mesmeriser, the well-educated widow 
 of a clergyman. So when a glass of proper magnetic water 
 was willed to be porter on her palate, she called it obliquely 
 " a nasty sort of beer," when, reflecting the knowledge of her 
 mesmeriser, she should have recognised it by name as well as 
 by taste : and again, in the fellow experiment, when the 
 water was willed to be sherry, she described it as " wine, 
 white wine;" and moreover, on drinking half a tumbler be- 
 came so tipsy, that she was afraid to rise from the chair or 
 walk, or go down stall's, " for fear of falling and spoiling her 
 face." The thing however was not original. Miss Martineau 
 insinuates that mesmerism is much older than Mesmer ; and 
 in reality the reader will remember a sham Abram feast of 
 the same kind in the Arabian Nights, where the Barmecide 
 willed ideal mutton, barley broth, and a fat goose with sweet 
 sauce, — and how Shacabac, to humour his entertainer, got 
 drunk on imaginary wine. 
 
 The whole interlude, indeed, in which J. figui-es, if not 
 very satisfactory to the sceptical, is rather amusing. She is 
 evidently an acute, brisk girl of nineteen, with a turn for 
 fun, — " very fond of imitating the bagpipes " in her merry 
 moods — and ready to go the whole Magnetic Animal, even 
 to the " mesmerising herself," — an operation as difficult, one
 
 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 509 
 
 would imagine, as self-tickliiiff. She exhibits in fact a will 
 of her own, and an independence, quite at variance with the 
 usual subjection to a superior influence. She wakes at her 
 own pleasure from her trances — is not so abstracted in them 
 as to forget her household errands, that she has to go to the 
 shop over the way — and without any mesmeric introduction 
 gets into rcq^port with the music nezt door, which sets her 
 mocking all the instruments of an orchestra, dancing, and 
 describing the company in a ball-room. Another day, when 
 one of the phrenological organs was affected, she was thrown 
 into a paroxysm of order, and was " almost in a frenzy of 
 trouble because she could not make two pocket-handerchiefs 
 lie flat and measure the same size " — all very good fun, and 
 better than stitching or darning. But she preferred higher 
 game. " I like to look up and see spiritual things. I can 
 see diseases, and I like to see visions !" And accordingly she 
 did see a vision, — by w'hat must be called Clairvoyance's long 
 range — of a shipwreck, with all its details, between Gotten- 
 burg and Elsinore. 
 
 This "inexplicable anecdote" Miss Martineau gives with 
 the usual amiable reliance on the reader's implicit credence, 
 declaring that she cannot discover any chink by which de- 
 ception could creep in ; whereas there is a gaping gap as 
 practicable as any breach ever made by battery. To give 
 any weight whatever to such a tale, two conditions are abso- 
 lutely essential : that the intelligence should not have been 
 received in the town ; and that if it had, the girl should 
 have had no opportunity of hearing the news. And was this 
 the case ? By no means. On the contraiy, J. had been out 
 on an errand, and immediately on her return she was mes- 
 merised, and related her vision ; the news arriving by natural 
 means, so simultaneously with the revelation, that she pre- 
 sently observed, " my aunt is below telling them all about it,
 
 510 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 
 
 and I shall hear all about it when I go down." To be ex- 
 pected to look on a maid of Newcastle as a she-Ezekiel, 
 on such terms, really confirms us in an opinion we have 
 gradually been forming, that Miss Martineau never in her life 
 looked at a human gullet by the help of a table-spoon. 
 
 In justice, however, it must be said, that the latter writer 
 gives credit as freely as she requires it ; witness the vision 
 just referred to, which it is confidently said was impossible 
 to be known by ordinary means, coupled with an equally 
 rash assertion that the girl had not seen her aunt, " the only 
 person (in all Newcastle !) from whom tidings of the ship- 
 wi-eck could be obtained." The truth is, with a too easy 
 faith. Miss Martineau greatly underrates the mischievous 
 propensities and wicked capabilities of human nature. She 
 says, 
 
 "I am certain that it is not in human nature to keep up for seven 
 weeks, without slip or trip, a series of deceptions so multifarious ; and I 
 should say so of a perfect stranger, as confidently as I say it of this girl, 
 whom I know to be incapable of deception, as much from the character of 
 her intellect as of her morale." 
 
 It is certain, nevertheless, that Mary Tofts, the Rabbit- 
 breeder, Ann Moore, the Fasting Woman of Tutbmy, Scratch- 
 ing Fanny, and other impostors, young and old, exhibited 
 extraordinary patience and painful perseverance in their 
 deceptions, combined with an art and cunning that deluded 
 doctors medical, spiritual, and lexicographical, with many 
 people of quality of both sexes. These, it is true, were all 
 superstitious or credulous persons, who believed all they 
 could get to believe ; and what else are those individuals 
 now-a-days, who hold that Mesmerism is as ancient as the 
 Delphian Oracle, and that Witchcraft was one of its forms 1 
 In common consistency such a faith ought to go all lengths 
 with the American Sea Serpent, the whole breadth of the
 
 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 511 
 
 Kraken, and not believe by halves in the Merman and the 
 Mermaid. 
 
 In one thing we cordially agi*ee with Miss Martinean, 
 namely, in repudiating the cant about piying into the 
 mysteries of Providence, perfectly convinced that what is 
 intended to be hidden from us will remain as hermetically 
 sealed as the secrets of the grave. The Creator himself has 
 implanted in man an inquisitive spirit, with faculties for 
 reseai'ch, which He obviously intended to be exercised, by 
 leaving for its discovery so many important powers — for 
 instance, the properties of the loadstone — essential to human 
 comfort and pi'ogress, instead of making them subjects of 
 special revelation. Let man then, divinely supplied with 
 intellectual deep sea-lines, industriously fathom all mysteries 
 within their reach. What we object to is, that so many 
 charts are empirically laid down without his taking proper 
 soundings, and to his pronouncing off-hand, without ex- 
 amination by the plummet, that the bottom off a strange 
 coast is rock, mud, stone, sand or shells. Thus it is that in 
 Mesmerism we have so much rash assertion on the one hand, 
 and point blank contradiction on the other. To pass over such 
 subtleties as the existence of an invisible magnetic fluid, and 
 the mode of magnetic action, there is the broad problem, 
 whether a man's leg can be lopped off as unconsciously as the 
 limb of a tree 1 That such a question should remain in dis- 
 pute or doubt, in spite of our numerous hospitals and their 
 frequent operations, is disgraceful to all parties. But specu- 
 lation seems to be preferred to proof. Thus Miss Martiueau 
 talks confidently of such painless amputations ; yet, with a 
 somnambulist at her fingers' ends, never assures herself by 
 the prick of a pin, of the probability of the fact. Nay, she 
 is very angry with the Experimentalist who tried to satisfy 
 himself of the reality of J.'s insensibility by a sudden alarm,
 
 512 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 
 
 without giving notice that he was going to surprise her ; a 
 violation, it seems, of the first rule of mesmeric practice, but 
 certainly according to the rules of common sense. 
 
 " Another incident is note-worthy in this connexion. A gentleman was 
 here one evening, who was invited in all good faith, on his declaration that 
 he had read all that had been written on Mesmerism, knew all about it, 
 and was philosophically curious to witness the phenomena. He is the only 
 witness we have had who abuses the privilege. I was rather surprised to 
 see how, being put in communication with J., he wrenched her arm, and 
 employed usage which would have been cruelly rough in her ordinary state ; 
 but I supposed it was because he ' knew all about it,' and found that she 
 was insensible to his rudeness ; and her insensibility was so obvious, that 
 I hardly regretted it. At length, however, it became clear that his sole 
 idea was (that which is the sole idea of so many who cannot conceive of 
 what they cannot explain,) of detecting shamming; and, in pursuance of 
 this aim, this gentleman, who * knew all about it,' violated the first rule 
 of mesmeric practice, by suddenly and violently seizing the sleeper's arm, 
 without the intervention of the Mesmerist. J. was convulsed, and writhed 
 in her chair. At that moment, and while supposing himself en, rapport 
 with her, he shouted out to me that the house was on fire. Happily, this 
 brutal assault on her nerves failed entirely. There was certainly nothing 
 congenial in the raiyport. She made no attempt to rise from her seat, and 
 said nothing, — clearly heard nothing ; and when asked what had frightened 
 her, said something cold had got hold of her. Cold indeed ! and very hard 
 too!" 
 
 In the meantime how many sufferers there are, probably, 
 male and female, afflicted with cancers and diseased limbs, 
 w^ho are looking towards mesmerism for relief, and anxiously 
 asking, is it true that a breast can be removed as painlessly 
 as its bodice ; or a leg cut off, and perhaps put on again — 
 why not, by such a miraculous agency % — without the know- 
 ledge of its great or little toe % Such inquirers ought at 
 once to have their doubts resolved, for, as we all know, there 
 is nothing more cniel, when such issues are at stake, than to 
 be kept dangling in a state of uncertainty. 
 
 On the subject of itinerant mesmerists Miss Martineau is 
 very earnest, and roundly denounces the profane fellows, 
 who make no scruple of " playing ipon the nerves and brains
 
 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 513 
 
 of humau beings, exhibiting for mouey, on a stage, states 
 of mind and soul held too sacred in olden times to be elicited 
 elsewhere than in temples by the hands of the priests of the 
 gods!" 
 
 " While the wise, iu whose hands this power should be, as the priesthood 
 to whom scientific inj'steries are consigned by Providence, scornfully 
 decline their high function, who are they that snatch at it, in sport or 
 mischief, — and always in ignorance ? School children, apprentices, 
 thoughtless women who mean no harm, and base men who do mean 
 harm. Wherever itinerant Mesmerists have been are there such as these, 
 throwing each other into trances, trying funny experiments, getting 
 fortunes told, or rashly treating diseases. 
 
 «   * • • 
 
 "Thus are human passions and human destinies committed to reckless 
 hands, for sport or abuse. No wonder if somnambules are made into 
 fortune-tellers, — no wonder if they are made into prophets of fear, malice, 
 and revenge, by reflecting in their somnambulism the fear, malice, and 
 revenge of their questioners ; — no wonder if they are made even ministers 
 of death, by being led from sick-bed to sick-bed in the dim and dreary 
 alleys of our towns, to declare which of the sick will recover, and which 
 
 will die ! 
 
 • * • • • 
 
 " If I were to speak as a moralist on the responsibility of the savans of 
 society to the multitude — if I were to unveil the scenes which are going 
 forward in every town in England, from the wanton, sportive, curious, or 
 mischievous use of this awful agency by the ignorant, we should hear no 
 more levity in high places about Mesmerism." 
 
 A statement strangely at variance with the following dictum, 
 which as strangely makes Morality still moral, whatever her 
 thoughts or her postures — and whether controlled by the 
 volition of " thoughtless women who mean no harm," or 
 " base men who do mean harm." 
 
 " The volitions of the Mesmerist may actuate tbe movemeuta of the 
 patient's limbs, and suggest the material of his ideas ; but they seem un- 
 able to touch his morale. In this state the morale appears supreme, as it 
 is rarely found in the ordinary condition." 
 
 We can well understand the " social calamity " appre- 
 hended from a promiscuous use of the ulterior powers of 
 VOL. X. 33
 
 514 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 
 
 mesmerism. But what class, we must ask, is to arrogate to 
 itself and monopolise the exercise of miraculous powers, alien 
 to, if not identical with, those bestowed aforetime on certain 
 itinerant apostles ? An inspired fisherman will prescribe aa 
 safely, prophesy as coirectly, and see visions as clearly, as 
 an inspired doctor of medicine or divinity. There seems to 
 be, in the dispensation of the marvellous gift, no distinc- 
 tion of persons. Miss Martineau's maid mesmerizes her as 
 effectually as Mr. Hall ; and J. owes her first magnetic sleep, 
 and all its beneficial results on her health and inflamed eyes, 
 to the passes of the maid of the clergyman's widow. A do- 
 mestic concatenation that suggests to us a curious kitchen 
 picture — and an illustrative letter. 
 
 To Mary Smash, at No. 1. CJmney Walk, Chelsea. 
 
 Dear Mary, 
 
 This cums hoping yure well, and to advize you to 
 larn Mismerising. Its dun with yure Hands, and is as ea«y 
 as taking sites at Pepel, or talking on yure fingers. If I was 
 nigh you, I'd lani you in no time to make Passes, witch is 
 only pawing, like, without touchin, at sumboddys face or 
 back, witch gives them a tittevating feeling on the galvanic 
 nerves, And then off they go into a Trance in a giffy, and 
 talk in their sleep like Orators, I should say Oracles, and 
 anser watever you ax. Whereby you may get yure Fortin 
 told, and find out other fokes sweatharts & luve secrets. And 
 diskiver Theaves better than by Bible & Key, And have 
 yure inward Disorders told, & wats good for them. Sukey's 
 was the indigestibles, and to take as much rubbub as would 
 hide a shillin. All witch is done by means of the sombulist, 
 thats the sleeper, seeing through every think quite trans- 
 parent, in their Trance, as is called Clare Voying, so that
 
 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 615 
 
 they can pint out miinny hid under the Erth, &, hurried 
 bones, <k springs of water, and vanes of mettle, &, menny 
 things besides. 
 
 Yesterdy I was mismerized meself into a Trance, «fe clare 
 voyed the chork Gout in John's stomack as plane as Margit 
 Cliffs. So I prescribed him to take CoUjflower, witch by 
 rites should have been Collycinth, but I forgot the propper 
 word. Howsumever he did eat two large ones, and promises 
 to cum round. 
 
 It would make you split your sides with laffing to see me 
 mismerize our Thomas & make him go into all sorts of odd 
 postures & anticks & capers Like a Dotterel, for watever I do 
 he must coppy to the snapping of a finger, and cant object 
 to nuthing for as the song says I've got his Will and his 
 Power. Likewise you can make the Sombulist taste watever 
 you think propper, so I give him mesmerized Warter witch 
 at my Command is transmoggrified on his pallet to Sham- 
 pain (k makes him as drunk as Old Goosberry and then he 
 will jump Jim Crow, or go down on his bended knees and 
 confess all his peckaddillos Witch is as diverten as reading the 
 Misteries of Parris. 
 
 The wust to mismerize is Reuben the Cotchman, not that 
 hes too wakefid, for hes generally beery. And goes off like a 
 shot, but he wont talk in his sleep, only snores. 
 
 The Page is more passable and very clarevoying. He 
 have twice seed a pot of goold in the middle flower-bed 
 But the gardner wont have it dug up. And he says theres 
 a skelliton bricked into the staircase wall, so that we never 
 dares at nite to go up alone. Also he sees Visions and 
 can profesy and have foretold two Earthquacks and a grate 
 Pleg. 
 
 Cook wants to mismerize too but what with her being so 
 much at the firs and her full habbit she always goes off to
 
 616 DOMESTIC MESMERISM. 
 
 Bleep afore the Sombulist. But Sukey can do it very well 
 Tho in great distress about Mrs. Hardin's babby witch Sukey 
 oflfered to mismerize in loo of surrup of Poppies or Godfrey's 
 Cordial, but the pore Innocent wont wake up agin, nor 
 havent for two hole days. As would be a real blessin to 
 Muthers and Nusses in a moderate way, but mite be carried 
 too far, and require a Crowners Quest. As yet that's the 
 only Trial we have made out of the House, But we mean to 
 mismerize the Baker, and get out of him who he really does 
 mean to offer to, for he is quite a General Lover, 
 
 Sum pepel is very dubbius about Mismeiizing, and sum 
 wont have it at any price ; but Missis is for it, very strong, 
 and says she means to believe every attorn about it till sum- 
 boddy proves quite the reverse. She practises making passes 
 every day, and is studdyin Frenology besides, for she says 
 between the two you may play on pepel's pennycraniums 
 like a Piany, and put them into any Key you like. And of 
 course her fust performance will be a Master piece on the 
 Head of the Fammily, 
 
 To be shure it seems a wonderful power to be give to one 
 over one's Fellow Creturs, and as mite be turned to Divilisb 
 purposes But witch I cant stop to pint out, for makin the 
 beds. To tell the truth, with so much Mismerizing going 
 on, our Wurks has got terrible behind hand And the carpits 
 has not been swep for a week. So no move at present in 
 haste from 
 
 Your luviug Friend 
 
 Eliza Passmore. 
 
 P.S. A most remarkable Pi'ofesy ! The Page have fore- 
 told that the Monkey some day would bite Missis, & lo ! and 
 behold he have flone at her, and made his teeth meet in her 
 left ear. If that ant profesying I dont know what is.
 
 517 
 
 THE ECHO. 
 
 Some months since, Mr. Edward Davis, the well-known 
 sculptor, applied to me to sit to him for a Bust. My vanity 
 readily complied with the request ; and in due time I found 
 myself in his studio, installed in a crimson-covered elbow- 
 chair, amidst an assemblage of Heads, hard and soft, white, 
 drab, and stone-colour. Here, a young Nobleman — one of 
 the handsomest of the day — in painted plaster ; there, a 
 benevolent-looking Bishop in clear white sparkling marble, 
 next to a brown clay head, like Eefiued and Moist. A num- 
 ber of unfinished models, of what Beau Brummell would 
 have called " damp strangers," were tied up in wet cloths, 
 from which every moment you expected to hear a sneeze ; 
 the veiled ones comprising a lady or two, a barrister and a 
 judge. All these were on pedestals : but in the back ground, 
 on the boards, stood numerous other busts, dwarfish or 
 gigantic, heads and shoulders, like Oriental Genii coming up 
 through the floor — some white and clean, as if fresh from 
 the waters under the earth ; others dingy and smoky, as if 
 from its subterranean fire-places^some young, some old, 
 some smiling, and others grave, or even frowning severely ; 
 with one alarming face, reminding me of those hard brutal 
 countenances that are seen on street-doors. 
 
 On the mantel-shelf silently roared the Caput of the 
 Laocoon, with deeply indented eyeballs, instead of the regu- 
 lation blanks ; and what the play-people call a practicable 
 mouth, i. e. into which you might poke your finger down to 
 the gullet ; and, lastly, on the walls were sundry mystical 
 sketches in black and white chalk, which vou micht turn, as
 
 518 THE ECHO. 
 
 fancy prompted, like Hamlet's cloud, into any figure you 
 pleased, from a weazel to a whale. 
 
 To return to self. The artist, after setting up before me 
 what seemed a small mountain of putty, with a bold scoop 
 of his thumbs marked out my eyes ; next taking a good 
 pinch of clay — an operation I seemed to feel by sympathy — 
 from between my shoulders, clapped me on a rough nose, and 
 then stuck the surplus material in a large wart on my chest. 
 In short, by similar proceeding, scraping, smoothing, dabbing 
 on and taking off, at the end of the first sitting. Sculptor 
 had made the upper half of a mud doll, the size of life, 
 looking very like " the idol of his own circle " in the Canni- 
 bal Islands. 
 
 At subsequent sittings, this heathen figure gradually be- 
 came not only more Christian-like, but more and more like 
 the original : till finally it put on that striking resemblance 
 which is so satisfactory to one's wife and family, and, as it 
 were, introduces a man to himself. 
 
 An Engraving by Mr. Heath, from this Bust, is intended 
 to form the frontispiece to the Second Volume of this Maga- 
 zine, and will be given with the next Number, should the 
 interval be sufficient for the careful execution and finish of 
 the plate. The Address that should have been ofiered, the 
 present month, will accompany the engraving; the same 
 cause that postpones it — a severe indisposition — will be ac- 
 cepted perhaps as a sufficient apology for the absence of the 
 usual Answers to Correspondents. In tne mean time all 
 good wishes are briefly tendered to the vast ring of friends, 
 and the increasing circle of subscribers, to whose entertain- 
 ment, at the present season, I have tried to contribute.
 
 EPIGRAMS. 619 
 
 [It is not improl)ablc that these few lines were ^^Titten at the com- 
 mencement of this year, as well as the Epigrams immediately follow- 
 ing] 
 
 FRAGMENT 
 
 PROBABLY WRITTEN DURING ILLNESS. 
 
 I'm sick of gruel, and the dietetics, 
 
 I'm sick of pills, and sicker of emetics. 
 
 I'm sick of pulses' tardiness or quickness, 
 
 I'm sick of blood, it's thinness or its thickness, 
 
 In short, within a word, I'm sick of sickness. 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 My heart's wound up just like a watch. 
 As far as springs will take — 
 
 It wants but one more evil twrn, 
 And then the cords will break ! 
 
 EPIGRAM 
 
 THE SUPERIORITY OF MACHINERY. 
 
 A Mechanic his labour will often discard. 
 If the rate of his pay he dislikes ; 
 
 But a clock — and it's case is uncommonly hard- 
 Will continue to work, tho' it strikes !
 
 520 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 As human fashions change about. 
 
 The reign of Fools should now begin, 
 For when the Wigs are going out 
 
 I'he Naturals are comiue: in. 
 
 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 THE TWO MINERS. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 About ninety years ago, a workman at one of the most 
 profitable of the mines in the Harz mountains, lived 
 Michael Hauser. He was at that time an old man ; he 
 toiled hard for eight hours during the day, and the intei-val 
 between his leaving off work and retiring to rest was spent 
 always in the bosom of his family. His wife was still living, 
 aifectionate towards her husband, and cairying her love for 
 her children, of many that she had borne, two remaining 
 sons, to an extent that became the common talk of the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 Karl and Wilhelm were both handsome, bold, and vigorous 
 young men, but with characters as unlike as they could be, 
 and which distinctly mai'ked the conduct of each ; in nothing 
 more, perhaps, than the difference of their regard for one 
 another. Karl, the elder, was not what would be called
 
 KESUITS OF GERMAN STUDY. 621 
 
 athletic ; yet his figure, although thin, seemed to possess 
 strength that might be dangerous to a far bulkier antagonist 
 than himself. His complexion was sallow, and his whole 
 face had an air of reserve, and if the expression may be 
 granted to the case, of pride, that kept at a distance most of 
 the young men of his age and station. None of his features 
 were very remarkable, or drew the attention, with the excep- 
 tion of his eye, which certainly had an appearance that no 
 human eye had ever before possessed. It was large, full, 
 and open to a fearful degi'ee. You never saw it wink. You 
 never saw it lighted up in laughter, or ooscured with 
 tears. It has been said, I do not know with what truth, 
 that Karl Hauser never wept in his life. He worked with 
 his father in the mine, but with the rest of his fellow- 
 labourers he had little or no communication. Wilhelm was 
 eighteen yeara of age, and two years younger than his 
 brother, whom he loved tenderly, and, as it would seem, yet 
 the more that his brother continued to avoid him. He was 
 thick set, and his face chvibby. His sparkling blue eye, that 
 seemed to have usurped all the motion that his brother's 
 wanted, was never still. He was his father's favourite. His 
 mother, urged pei-haps by pity, showed, though a delicate 
 observer only could have perceived it, a partiality for 
 her Karl. 
 
 About six months previous to the commencement of this 
 narrative, Wilhelm had become enamoured of the simple 
 beauty of Bertha Kramer, the only daughter of the widow of 
 a poor lieutenant, who gained, in the small town of Klausthal, 
 a livelihood for herself and daughter by needlework. The 
 young miner had made no mention of his attachment, not 
 even to the maiden herself. He contented himself with 
 walking in the dusk every evening to a clear and beautiful 
 spring — one of the many which are found bursting forth as
 
 522 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 with all the freshness of an eternal youth in the famed hilly 
 region of which we are speaking. Slieltered by the trees 
 which shadowed the spring, he watched the tender Bertha, 
 as she held her can at the mouth of the fountain, and gazed 
 a full half-mile after her whilst she retraced the path in the 
 mountain which led to her own home. 
 
 One day, however, whilst performing some household work 
 with Karl, being no longer able to retain his dear secret, 
 Wilhelm took the following method of revealing it to his 
 brother. 
 
 " Karl," he said, " mother and father have been man and 
 wife forty years, and they have lived all that time happily 
 together. How preferable is a married life to a single 
 one ! " 
 
 Karl turned his head towards him, and Wilhelm pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 " Now, brother, tell me, would you live in this world alone 
 and comfortless ? " 
 
 " No," said Karl, and resumed his work. 
 
 " Well, now, I like that, brother ; you do speak but very 
 seldom, and when you do it is not always to such good 
 pm'pose." 
 
 Karl smiled, but his eye changed not. 
 
 " Tell me, Karl, will you walk with me this evening to the 
 Magdesprung % " 
 
 " For what purpose % " 
 
 " It is not to see — a devil." 
 
 Karl suddenly turned I'ound, and every feature — his eye 
 excepted, which was like a stone — had a fearful expression. 
 Recollecting himself, however, he said, — 
 
 " I suppose not. There are no devils now to be seen in 
 the Harz mountains." 
 
 " Oh, Karl, I do not know that," said Wilhelm, assuming
 
 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 523 
 
 a mock serious tone of voice ; " if what old Verloff Siij-s bo 
 tnie, there is a goblin and a sprite, not only in many parts 
 of the mountains, but actually in our own good Carolina- 
 mine. And as for der Teufel " — and here, endeavouring to 
 assume a deeper tone of seriousness, he laughed out for some 
 time in great ecstacy. " If young Spindelman speak sootli, 
 you, Master Karl, have had dealings with such a personage. 
 It was only the night before last, as we were taking a glass 
 of Schnapps together, that he told me how one morning, as 
 he was walking alone in the mountains, he saw you in close 
 conversation with — a man, as he at first supposed him to be, 
 as large as yonder tree ; how he heard you say these dreadful 
 words : — " No less ? Will nothing less suffice you ? Great 
 God, what a doom ! " and how, shortly afterwards, he saw 
 him descend into the earth, whereby he knew him to be no 
 man at all, but the black gentleman himself. AVhat do you 
 think of that. Master Karl ? And Spindelman is an 
 authority, for he gets drunk every day. Poor fellow, he'll 
 soon drink himself to death. The Brantwein plays sad tricks 
 with his five senses. The devil and you, Karl," — and he 
 again burst out into an ecstacy of laughter, in which his 
 brother seemed to join most heartily, though he did not utter 
 one syllable, nor turn his head, but employed himself more 
 diligently than ever in chopping wood — as it chanced, his 
 morning's occupation. 
 
 " No, Karl," still continued the gay Wilhelm, " I will take 
 you to see a fairy, the sweetest in all Germany — a fairy that 
 shall make sparkle again those stern and dumb — " 
 
 Karl turned suddenly round, and the word Wilhelm would 
 have uttered died on his lips. Karl, without taking any 
 notice of the effect he had produced, said, " Do not trifle 
 with me. Speak seriously, Wilhelm. What do you wish me 
 to do 1. "
 
 524 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 " Well tlien, in sober seriousness, I want to ghow you — 
 Before he could say more, his mother entered and inter- 
 rupted the conversation. 
 
 Whoever has made the tour of the Harz mountains will 
 not forget whilst he lives the majestic and awful appearance 
 of their innumerable trees, which, crowded together over the 
 undulating tracts of the hills, and swayed by the winds, 
 present the picture of some mighty and supernatural ocean. 
 To such a scene were Karl and the an:xious lover now 
 hastening. The sun still hung among the hills, and the 
 pleasure of seeing that huge ball of fire drop into the 
 valleys was yet reserved for the youths : their road led 
 them over a mountain top. 
 
 Karl seemed to be acquainted with the business upon which 
 they were bound. He listened to the frequent bursts of 
 passion which escaped from his brother's lips with a cold and 
 unchangeable silence. 
 
 " Oh, Karl ! " exclaimed the fond youth, " you are cold and 
 quiet, and have no experience, no sympathy. If it were 
 otherwise, you would know how blessed a thing it is to love 
 — to love as I do, with a fear of rejection, creeping and 
 trembling before a hope that is dearer than certainty 
 itself Karl, am I not happy f He looked into his 
 brother's face for an answer, but receiving none, poor 
 Wilhelm continued — 
 
 " You know, Karl, that father said, whichever married 
 first should have the two rooms in the cottage. Now, as 
 there is little chance of your entering upon the married 
 state for some time, if ever, I shall become the owner, and 
 you, my dear Karl, must be content to visit us there."
 
 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 525 
 
 At length they arrived at the Miigdesprung. The sun 
 went down, 
 
 " My dear brother, look at that light foot. See with 
 what a maidenly grace it bounds over the stones. Wait 
 till she approach — look on her face, and tell me if she is 
 not an angel V 
 
 Karl looked towards the spot to which he pointed, but 
 in truth he saw nothing ; for little Bertha was at such a 
 distance, and her form so indistinct, that none but a 
 lover's accustomed eye could trace it. Karl continued 
 silent, and a quarter of an hour elapsed before the maiden 
 drew near. 
 
 Wilhelm exclaimed at the top of his lowest voice — 
 
 " There, there ." 
 
 And in his eagerness to observe the treasure, he did not 
 at all perceive the movement of his brother, who, as if 
 impelled from the mouth of a cannon, rushed from his 
 hiding-place, and stood before the widow's daughter. She 
 shrieked, and crying " Oh, my dear Karl," threw herself 
 into his arms. 
 
 CHAPTER ir. 
 
 The first impulse of Wilhelm was to leap upon his 
 brother and Bertha. A few moments afterwards he was 
 retracing his steps homeward, and weeping like a child. 
 " It is too hard," he said. " I cannot bear it." As his 
 tenderness became relieved by his tears, and as they soon 
 ceased to be any relief whatever to him, vexation, disappoint- 
 ment and ill-feeling got the better of his good heart. " He 
 shan't carry it so prettily," he said. " He has done it to
 
 526 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 baulk me, a;id to kill me. I understand his silence now 
 very well, and his smiles, and his contempt, and his patient 
 listening to all that I said about her. He knew that I loved 
 her better than my own soul, and look, how he has trifled 
 with me. I will not bear it patiently — I cannot. It is 
 very, very hard ! " he exclaimed, and leaning passionately 
 against a tree, once more he burst into tears. 
 
 As he approached his home he was at a loss to know what 
 excuse he should make for Karl. This difficulty, however, 
 was got over, when, upon entering the cottage, he saw Kaid 
 quietly sitting at the of en, his mother busy preparing the 
 abendbrod, old Michael reading the Stunden der Andacht, 
 and his brother himself employed in carving a pipe out of 
 a twisted branch of a tree, an employment in which the 
 miners are particularly skilful. His suqjrise was great, but 
 he said nothing. Karl, looking towards him without any 
 embaiTassment, said, " Wilhelm, why did you leave me 1 
 You take me to a spot which I have seldom, if ever, visited, 
 and you leave me to find my way home as I best may. This 
 is hardly kind of you." It was now Wilhelm's turn to 
 remain silent. He stared at his brother almost wildly, 
 seemed choked with the suppression of a feeling in which he 
 dared not indulge, but said nothing. No notice was taken 
 of his behaviour by the old people. The supper was eaten 
 rather silently ; Lnit, in other respects, the evening passed off 
 as usual. 
 
 The next morning, as was their wont, the brothers went 
 together to their work at the mine. They had walked some 
 time in silence. Wilhelm looked now quiet and calm, and 
 eeemed to be preparing himself to act npon a determination 
 which his good sense, his pure manly heart, and one night's 
 reflection had probably suggested to him. 
 
 Suddenly he stopped, and in a steady, settled, and im-
 
 JiKSULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 527 
 
 pressive voice, as if he were compelling tne words which came 
 from him, said, 
 
 " Karl ! 1 can't speak to you as I should wish to speak to 
 a brother. You are either too proud or too ill-natured to 
 answer my questions, — and I will not — I am determined — be 
 angiy with you, because it is so. Never mind. I can bear 
 it and more. If yesterday morning I had been offered the 
 ~vhole of the mine over which we are walking to give up that 
 girl, I should have refused, and thought myself rich in doing 
 so. If you had cut this limb from me," and he held out his 
 big arm, whilst a tear started in his eye, but he checked it, 
 " if you had cut off this arm, I say, I should have borne the 
 pain and the loss of it much moi'e easily than I can — do bear 
 the loss of hope, I am not saying all this to show you how 
 great a sacrifice I am willing to make, or to brag of it ; but 
 you shall know that I have not loved her lightly ; you shall 
 know that I am able to give up even to you, from whom I 
 can expect no return, the only — next to our dear father and 
 mother — the only thing worth living for. Tell me, do you 
 love her? Does she ?" — and it was here that his voice fii'st 
 began to tremble, — " does she love you V 
 
 Karl had been unmoved during the whole of this pathetic 
 appeal. He turned now towards Wilhelm, and with a stern, 
 inflexible manner, said 
 
 " Boy ! when you took me to the spring, I knew not whom 
 I was to meet there. What passed there, or as much of it 
 as you witnessed, for I know not how long you remained, 
 may be a sufficient answer to your question." With which 
 words he turned his head away, and was again silent. 
 
 " I have done," said Wilhelm, and putting on their miuers 
 clothes, they went down the pit to work.
 
 523 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUD?. 
 
 A week afterwards and there were no bounds to the happi- 
 ness of Michael Hauser's wife. Slie knew, she said, that one 
 thing only had been wanting to malte her Karl as gay as the 
 wildest of them. '* In fact," she said, and she was a woman 
 of experience, " it takes different things to make different 
 people happy. Now some must go to the Wirthshaus — some 
 waltz — some gamble, and if a man can get no pleasure in any 
 of these, all that is left to give it him, and which he, without 
 knowing it, requires, is a wife." 
 
 Little Bertha smiled ; and assisted her future mother-in- 
 law in removing the coverings from the gay furniture, now 
 five years deposited — having been originally designed as the 
 marriage portion of a daughter who did not live to enjoy it, 
 in those two rooms which poor Wilhelm had so ardently 
 hoped to have made the home of kis Bertha. 
 
 Of all the lovers that have been known Karl was the most 
 singular ; and how the charming Bertha could fancy him was 
 a matter of no small surprise to all who knew nothing in the 
 world about love aflfairs. Whatever had been the origin and 
 progress of their attachment, it is unquestionably true that 
 the sullen and gloomy miner had now a more than common 
 influence over the affections and conduct of his betrothed ; 
 yet even towards her, as to all the world besides, he was cold 
 and peevish. 
 
 Love blinded Bertha, and she did not feel his conduct. 
 Perhaps there was some reason for his moroseness with 
 which she was unacquainted, and for which she pitied him, 
 and, it may be, loved him the more. We shall learn in the 
 sequel. 
 
 Wilhelm went about his work as before. Afflicted, as he 
 was, by his loss, he was too good to give to the causes of it 
 the least uneasiness. He left home earlier in the morning, 
 and returned home later at night. And it was only when his
 
 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 529 
 
 pride was working within him, or when he was compelled by 
 circumstances, that he ventured into the room in which she 
 sat. On such an occasion he had remarked the apathy of 
 his brother's manner to her. " He does not love her," he 
 internally said ; " does not love her, as I do — did. I hope 
 she may be happy. Heaven bless her !" The last three 
 words were unconsciously uttered, and in a tone that did not 
 escape the mole-eared Karl. Wilhelm perceived it. He 
 arose from his seat, approached his brother kindly, took him 
 by the hand, and saying softly, " Forgive me ; I could not 
 help it," left the room. 
 
 " Not later than ten," said little Bertha to her Braiitigam^ 
 as she stepped over the threshold of the door for the last 
 time previous to her marriage. " Good bye !" and so saying, 
 she kissed him, and departed. 
 
 Wilhelm was lying at the foot of that spring, which even 
 now he cherished more than any other spot, as Bertha passed 
 it on her way home. He saw her, but he turned his head 
 away, and played with the waters of the fountain. He fell 
 the whole world going round with him, as the sensation of a 
 delicate hand, touching his back, crept through his blood. 
 Having apologised for the interruption, " Master Wilhelm," 
 said Bertha, " I am a very foolish girl, and I know you will 
 think me half crazy for my superstition ; but I must throw 
 myself upon your generosity, or be unhappy for ever." 
 
 Wilhelm's heart beat violently, but he did not interrupt 
 the lady. 
 
 " You must know that — I'm sure you will laugh outright 
 — twelve years ago, when I was a little girl at school, having 
 more time upon my hands than I knew how to employ to any 
 VOL. X. 34
 
 630 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 good use, I one day entered into a compact with a young school- 
 fellow, — of which, as she some three years since removed 
 within five miles of our village, I have lately been reminded 
 by her, — that whichever was first married should invite the 
 other to the wedding, under the penalty — such did each 
 imprecate upon herself — of being made — now I see you are 
 smiling — a widowed bride. It is very possible that I should 
 not now have concerned myself much about it, if I had not 
 dreamt of it three times last night, and it has really made 
 me so unhappy that I do not know if I shall be easy again, 
 unless 1 find means to ask her." 
 
 It did not require much argument to prevail upon "VVilhelm 
 to become the messenger. He set out on his errand. Though 
 nine o'clock, it was not yet dark. Upon his arrival at the 
 house, he was informed that the family had, the day pre- 
 ceding, on account of the ill health of some of its inmates, left 
 it for a temporary residence in a warmer climate. Nothing 
 was left for Willi elm but to return to his home, which he did 
 not reach until a late hour, when every one had for some time 
 retired to rest. Having entered, which to him was not 
 difiicult, he made his way cautiously to his own room, where, 
 for some time, he sat musing upon the business in which he 
 had been engaged. He could not think it right that the 
 imagination of Bertha should be permitted, by a knowledge 
 of the truth, to become, as in all probability it would 
 eventually, the instrument of her own destruction. And 
 jet he was assured that she covdd not for any period be kept 
 ignorant of the fact, which, coming to her in suspicion, and 
 after it had been thought necessary to withhold it from her, 
 would be doubly alarming and injurious in its consequences. 
 Perplexed and uneasy, and seeing no way to extricate him- 
 self, he determined upon speaking to Karl, 
 
 He went at once to his brother's bedroom, the door of
 
 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 531 
 
 which he gently opened : nor, until after he had opejed it, 
 
 did it occur to him, that that door had never been known 
 
 to remain unlocked, when Karl was at the inside. He trod 
 
 ooftly, and with the candle approached the bed ; he called 
 
 his brother's name * * * * 
 
 ***** 
 
 Exactly four minutes after Wilhelm had left his own room, 
 he was again sitting in it, his eyes bursting from his head — 
 his hair standing on end — his strong limbs quivering — he 
 gasped, panted, and seemed to be choking from the violent 
 effect of horror and dread. Confronting him, stood his 
 brother, foaming with rage, and every feature, his large eye 
 excepted, maddened with expression. Thei-e was no candle 
 in the room, but the moon was shining full on their faces. 
 « Karl ! Karl ! Karl, Karl !" 
 
 " Silence !" said the elder in a loud whisper, and thrusting 
 his fist into his brother's mouth to stop his utterance. 
 " Silence ! — By Hell, I'll mm*der you if they hear you !" 
 
 " Oh ! how horrible !" exclaimed Wilhelm, still in vehement 
 agitation, but adopting his brother's whisper. 
 
 " How dared you, viper ! enter that room ? How dared 
 
 you pry " 
 
 "No, Karl, I did not pry. Believe me, I did not — I ." 
 
 " Lower, lower, — if they hear you, I'll kill you." 
 " Well, then ! but, indeed I did not pry. It was for your 
 own good that I came. For her good. I would rather have 
 
 been shot than known that 
 
 *' Name it not. I spurn you, boy ! But the misery is on 
 you, not on me. / have learnt nothing. You have a 
 living curse within you : and the pains and the tortiires of 
 damnation are honey-drops compared with it." 
 
 " Oh, Karl, kill me if you will ! but do not talk thus." 
 "Yes! you shall die! but not now, nor by my hand,
 
 532 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 You must die ! You cannot live, knowing these things. 
 Your good angel shall be your destroyer." 
 
 " Oh ! I am not awake, — and, Karl ! you are not " 
 
 *'What?" said Karl, sharply and bitterly: and Wilhelm, 
 not daring to answer, rushed to his bed, and hid his head in 
 the clothes. 
 
 . For some minutes both were silent. At length Karl 
 spoke: — "What brought you into that room T' Wilhelm 
 explained the nature of the transaction in which he had 
 been engaged for Bertha, hastily, but intelligibly : and his 
 recital seemed to call upon Karl for all his natural boldness 
 and self-dependency. 
 
 " Look you, Wilhelm ! No human soul has seen me at 
 such a moment. You are the first. I have not repined at 
 my lot. I have lived above it. I never felt the common 
 passions of men, and therefore sorrow and fear could be no 
 part of my feelings, in bearing it. I have seen great things. 
 I have bought knowledge -which you can never learn — that 
 kings do not possess, and wise men dream not of Is this 
 nothing ? — I have leaped into the bowels of the earth, and 
 traced nature in all her handiworks. Is this nothing ? — 
 I have held commune with the invisible spirits of another 
 world, and spoken with restless and departed souls. But 
 I have paid for all this — and you know the price, Wilhelm ! 
 You must leaA'e this place to-morrow. Let yom" secret be 
 a secret : and never let me see you more. Be wise — content 
 yourself — leave me to myself — and, if you can, — forget this 
 night." 
 
 Wilhelm, more collected after his first shock, said, " Karl I 
 I am in your power. You have the means of crushing me — 
 body, but not soul. I have become innocently acquainted 
 with your secret — call it what you please — by your own 
 inadvertency. Take what advantage of my situation you
 
 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 533 
 
 think proper. I shall not leave my old parents now, when 
 more than ever they need a protector — a protector and a 
 comfort. When you ask mo to forget this night, you ask 
 me to forget tlie light which is in heaven, the air that we 
 breathe " 
 
 " But," interrupted Karl, " there is one thing. You will 
 not divulge this to the old people 1" 
 
 " It would break their hearts." 
 
 "You will not divulge it to them, then? You promise ?" 
 
 " I do, I do !" and he sighed deeply. 
 
 " Nor to any one 1 — You promise 1 " 
 
 " Nor to any but one," said Wilhelra, firmly, but with 
 intense passion : " nor to any hut one, Karl. That poor 
 wretch — she shall not be your victim." 
 
 Karl, who seemed to have forgotten the tender maiden, 
 now unconsciously and peacefully sleeping, received this 
 intimation as if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet ; he 
 was frantic, and his tempestuous passion added to the 
 whisper which he was compelled to adopt, and his wide eye 
 all the while quietly glistening in the moonbeam, gave to 
 the scene a hideous effect. He fell upon both knees, and 
 really clung to his lately despised and discarded brother. 
 
 " Wilhelm ! dear Wilhelm ! if you have one spark of 
 brotherly love in j'ou — if yon feel one drop of your mother's 
 blood throbbing in your veins — spare me. Be not so cruel. 
 I told you that I had nothing in common with man — that 
 I was a stranger to his passions. One being has linked me 
 to this world ; else I had not borne the load of life so long. 
 Bertha has been a whole world to me. I am no less to her. 
 For her sake, I have sustained life, which was bitter, and 
 found it sweet. And she, before she knew me, life was to 
 her a joy, a blessing. Since then, it has become a paradise. 
 Itob her of that, and you murder her. Take from her one
 
 534 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 thing, and you annihilate her. Wilhelm ! yon know how 
 much I am accustomed to kneel for favours. But, beggar 
 as I am, and as you see me, be kind to me ! be good ! be 
 charitable ! be brotherly ! and I will make you richer than 
 empires. Do not refuse me, for her sake, — and you once 
 loved her, — do not !" 
 
 Wilhelm replied, " The man, Karl, who turns from his 
 God, has need to bend to a worm. You would not be in 
 this posture, if what you had occasion to ask were right. 
 I may kill her ; or, it may be, only humble your fiendish 
 [n*ide. But, come what may, I know, and shall do my duty." 
 
 " The riches of these mines shall be poor compared with 
 yours :" and he waited for a reply. 
 
 " Thrice their value ! " Again he waited. 
 
 "You shall have power infinite ! Will nothing satisfy you ?" 
 
 Wilhelm remained silent. 
 
 Karl, after a pause, rose from the ground. His features, 
 now nearer to their wonted austerity, assumed an expression 
 of scorn and pity ; and without uttering one word more, he 
 retired to his room. Wilhelm threw himself upon his bed, 
 and burst into tears ; and, when he awoke the next, or 
 rather the same morning at seven o'clock, was surprised to 
 find that he could have slept at all. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Viel Gliiclc nachbar." — " Congratulire.'" — " Viele Freudt 
 theurste nachbarinn'" — " Der Brautigam soil leben" — " Die 
 Heine schatz soil leben. 
 
 i> 
 
 Upon the morning that was to change Bertha Kramer 
 from the happiest girl in the village to the happiest woman.
 
 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 535 
 
 in tHie world, at half-past eight o'clock, exactly two hours 
 before the ceremony was to take place, the neighbours and 
 fellow-workmen of Karl were amusing old Michael and 
 themselves with these and similar attempts at civility, all 
 of which were received by the old miner with bows that 
 threatened to reach to the bottom itself of the deep Carolina. 
 Karl and Wilhelm were both present. Karl astonished 
 every one by his gaiety, and nobody more than his brother, 
 who sat quite apart in a corner of the room with his face 
 buried in his hands. Poor Wilh,.lm ! He had been wishing 
 himself dead a thousand times ; and then, thinking that 
 wrong, had wished a thousand times again that he had 
 never been born. Worn out by such vain conflicts, he 
 collected himself as well as he could, muttered " God's will 
 be done!" and continued sitting with his face hid. He 
 might, perhaps, have remained in that position until the 
 marriage was over, if he had not been roused by Karl, who, 
 in a voice that sounded as if it was meant to comfort and 
 revive him, said, — 
 
 " Come, man, rouse ; never sigh on such a day ; you may 
 be as happy yet." 
 
 Wilhelm, like a man who has lost his senses, held up his 
 head, and stared his brother widely and full in the face. 
 Karl, without noticing this, continued, — 
 
 " There, that's right. Donner wetter, brother, you are 
 not to take it to heart in this fashion. Wish me joy " 
 
 <■<■ Joy — joy — joy — ^" cried out the youth. Wish you joy — 
 you — you — JOY — HIM ! Father — oh — oh, oh— r" and he again 
 dropt his face into his hands. 
 
 All the neighbours looked at Michael, and then at Karl ; 
 but as they did not seem willing to make any inquiry into 
 this singular conduct, the old man, having previously ascer- 
 tained that Wilhelm was not observing him, gently seized
 
 536 
 
 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 the oraest of the party by the coat, drawing the wearei 
 nearer to him, and then, by look, getting the rest of the 
 company round him, he, in a low voice, thus spoke : — " It 
 was not, friends, until this morning that Karl told me that 
 Wilhelm himself here has an affection for our little Bertha. 
 It appears, although he never mentioned it to us, that it has 
 been going on for some time. As he never disclosed the 
 secret himself, Karl says, it would have been very wrono- in 
 him to have betrayed it, if he had not feared that his hot 
 temper, as the moment approached, would lead him into 
 some excess of violence, which, you see, miglit very easily 
 have happened." 
 
 "Father, he lies!" cried the youth, starting from his 
 chair. " I do indeed love her, but " 
 
 " Ah, poor fellow," thought the neighbours, " we see how 
 it is," and they let him go on. 
 
 " — but he lies most foully. Ask him one question," he 
 said, his cheeks crimsoning with rage. 
 
 Karl passed him hastily, and whispered into his ear, 
 " Your promise !" 
 
 " True, true," he replied, and burst out of the room. 
 
 " And a better heart than thine never beat, my dear Karl," 
 said Frau Hauser, moved to tears, as her eldest son followed 
 Wilhelm out of the room, as she said, to appease and tran- 
 quillise him — "Heaven bless you both !" 
 
 " But did he tell you all ? And can you forgive me ?" 
 " All, and I forgive you." 
 " And will she come 1" 
 
 " She cannot. The illness of her mother prevents her : 
 but she acknowledges the fulfilment of your share of the
 
 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 537 
 
 compact. Wilhelm himself would tell you this, and more, 
 if his jealousy and unkindness did not keep him away. He 
 left his father and mother about an hour since, and has hid 
 himself no one knows where. I almost despise him for his 
 want of generosity ; but I hope the fool will come to ne 
 harm. Why do you sigh, Bertha 1 " 
 
 " For Wilhelm, love." 
 
 "For him?" 
 
 " Yes. Have I not made him unhappy 1 Have I not 
 lourished a passion in him which may be his ruin ? Did 
 I not daily visit that dreadful spot] Indeed, Karl, these 
 are things to make a girl sigh, whose days have crept on so 
 quietly as mine have. I am sure, if I had known it, I would 
 not have gone to that ugly spring a second time. 
 
 " Forget it, child." 
 
 " But surely he will not offer you any violence 1 Oh no, 
 I am sure he will not. No, my dear Karl — he is too good. 
 He loves you too well. Ah, yes, and I could prove it to 
 you, if you would not be angry with me." 
 
 " Was I ever angry with you V 
 
 " Well, you must know that I saw Wilhelm about an hoiu* 
 ago." 
 
 " You !" interrupted Karl. 
 
 " Well, w^ell, but he did not see me. There, I said you 
 would be angry — I will not tell you." 
 
 " Oh ! Bertha, if you knew what agony your words bring 
 to this heart, you would not trifle with me." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed ! I am sorry for it. But why should 
 they 1 Can you be jealous of Wilhelm ]" 
 
 " You say you saw him this morning. Was he alone V 
 
 " You shall hear. Anxious to receive an answer to my 
 message, I was descending to your cottage in the hope oi 
 meeting with Wilhelm, when I saw him rush frjm the dour
 
 53S RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 so violently, that for my life I could not approach him. 
 1 retreated — he did not stop until he came to the foot ot 
 that large tree which stands at the end of the road leading 
 to the old mountain track. I felt myself compelled to follow 
 him thither : he did not perceive me. He was crying and 
 raving ; but getting at last more composed, he took a book 
 from his pocket — he knelt against the tree — he prayed. 
 I heard him — it was the Bible, Karl, and he spoke most 
 fervently and distinctly ; he mentioned your name, and 
 hoped God would be kind to you ; and he spoke of me, 
 wished that I might be happy and know no sorrow. At 
 this moment, seeing you coming, I was frightened and ran 
 away." 
 
 Karl, by his manner, had evidently expected to hear more 
 than was conveyed to him in these words. As it was, this 
 speech of Bertha's had a visible disheartening effect upon 
 him. From that moment till he entered the church with 
 his lovely and innocent bride, he was silent and gloomy. 
 At the altar, even, as he stood, the pride of his parents and 
 the envy of his companions, his brow was overcast, and his 
 spirit was oppressed. To the many congratulations that 
 were offered him he returned not a word. To the tears 
 shed, half in joy half in fear, by his loving Bertha, he was 
 cold and insensible. He led her from the church because 
 she clung to his arm, but he supported her so carelessly that 
 it seemed as if it would be a matter of indifference to him 
 whether she withdrew her tender hold or not. At his par- 
 ticular desire, the neighbours returned to his father's cottage 
 together, and permitted Bertha and himself to find their 
 way home alone and uninterrupted. The friends of Michael 
 availed themselves of the opportunity to discuss the absence 
 of Wilhelm, of whom nothing had been seen since his hasty 
 departure in the morning. Some called him an ill-willed
 
 KESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 539 
 
 hoj, and foi'esaw that he would come to no good : others 
 pitied him, and said that he had been unfairly outwitted by 
 his brother. His absence, however, made nobody unhappy 
 or xmeasj', but Michael himself, who called his Wilhelm 
 a loving, kind-hearted boy, that deserved to be horsewhipped 
 for making his old father wretched. 
 
 Karl and Bertha were meanwhile loitering on the moun- 
 tains. The latter, happy as her situation could make her ; 
 *he former, still silent and dull. At any other moment 
 Bertha would have been affected by his reserve — a stranger 
 would have been struck with it ; but the novelty of her 
 situation had bewildered her, and she knew not whether the 
 silence of Karl was the result of the late ceremony, or his 
 Tiatural temper. She Avoukl not, she could not, find fault 
 with him ; and, trembling at his side, she walked, unwilling 
 and unable to disturb him. At length, Karl stopped, and 
 taking her by the hand, which he held fast, looking her full 
 in the face, he said, — 
 
 " Bertha, it was his own fault — his own deed — he had the 
 choice — I offered it to him — there was no alternative." 
 
 " "What do you mean, love ?" said Bertha, timidly. 
 
 " Wilhelm — my brother — that prayed for me at the tree — 
 you cannot deny it — you told me so yourself." 
 
 " Yes, I did, Karl ; but why do you look so wildly 1 Why 
 do you press my hand 1 You hurt me, Karl." 
 
 "Do I, child 1" said he, as if starting from a dream. 
 " I do. Forgive me, love, forgive me :" and he walked 
 slowly on ; and she followed, amazed and frightened ; and 
 BO they reached home. 
 
 It is midnight, and there is not one sound to be heard in 
 the whole village of Klausthal. Every creature has gone to
 
 640 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 rest. The miners that danced at the wedding, the young 
 girls who had been three days making the hranze for Bertha, 
 the youths who had neglected their work, wooing them ; 
 the old and the young, the strong and the weak, all were 
 asleep— all, including Michael Hauser and his wife, who, 
 although the day had closed in upon them without their 
 receiving any tidings of Wilhelm, had gone at their usual 
 hour quietly to sleep. It is twelve o'clock, and they are all 
 at rest. One o'clock sounds — Bertha is awakened by a noise 
 like the striking of a flint. She looks up, and — catches 
 a glimpse of her husband creeping from the room, and 
 concealing with his hand a lighted candle. He treads softly 
 towards the stairs, and, without looking behind him, de- 
 scends. The heart of Bertha beats with emotion. She has 
 but one impulse, and she obeys it. Stealing from her bed, 
 more gently even than Karl, she hastens to the staircase, • 
 and follows the glimmering of the light. 
 
 Karl reaches the bottom, and stops — listens for one mo- 
 ment, assures himself that everything is silent in the house, 
 and opens carefully the cottage door. He steps over the 
 threshold, and as carefully closes it. Bertha is left in utter 
 darkness. She stands fixed to the stair which she had 
 reached at the moment of her husband's quitting the house, 
 and her fear and her surprise render her motionless. How 
 long she remained in this situation it was impossible for her 
 to know. Agitated as she was, time seemed to have no power 
 or influence. It became at once, as it were, divested of its 
 impoi-tance, and was nothing. She felt as if she could suffer 
 years of suspense, rather than receive the information which 
 every succeeding minute threatened to bring to her. A 
 light that appeared through the crevice of the door gave the 
 first intimation of Karl's return. Bertha drew herself up, 
 and having a full view of the passage, escaped, herself, the
 
 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 541 
 
 chance of being observed. The door opened — and Kail 
 entered, but looking most pale, anxious, and disturbed. In 
 his left hand he bore a spade. His right hand — and Bertha, 
 to her inexpressible horror, perceives it — is covered with 
 blood. The assassin, the murderer, the fratricide — for such 
 indeed she imagines him — mutters to himself these words —   
 she hears him distinctly — "I am happier now, much happier," 
 A gleam of hope burst in upon her. " Thank God," she 
 thought, " he is innocent ; he could not speak thus with his 
 brother's blood upon his soul. There is some mystery con- 
 nected with it all, and in the morning I shall be made ac- 
 quainted with it." Karl spoke again. " For Bertha's sake 
 I am glad of this. Her life will be more peaceful. The 
 storm that threatened her days has passed over, and, at all 
 events, there will be sunshine for her." Saying these words, 
 he made a movement, as Bertha thought, towards the stair- 
 case. As cautiously as she could, she reached her room 
 again, and, almost fainting wdth apprehension, waited her 
 husband's return to bed. Some time elapsed before he 
 made his appearance. His back is turned towards Bertha, 
 and she gazes upon his hand — the blood was gone. Leaving 
 the candle still burning in the room, he resumed his place at 
 the side of his lovely and innocent wife. 
 
 " He sleeps," said Bertha, hearing him draw his breath 
 heavily, and having herself kept awake upwards of an hour : 
 " he sleeps — no murderer could sleep." She raises herself in 
 the bed, and her motion does not awake liim. She leaves 
 the bed ; still is he undistui'bed, and still he breathes as calm 
 as in sleep. " One look, and I will be satisfied." She took 
 the candle and placed it before his face. 
 
 Wretched, wretched Bertha ! — with affright, wnth hoiTor, 
 with an astonishment that took fz'om her the ability to 
 ppeak, the power of moving one muscle of her fair and deli-
 
 542 RESULTS OF GERMAN STUDY. 
 
 cate frame, she looked upon the face of her partner. He 
 slept profoundly — she held the taper before him, he stirred 
 uot, he slept ou — but /m eyes, his large, his quiet, stony 
 eyes, always large, always still, were at this very moment 
 open and motionle&s. More distended, more protruding, and 
 more icy-looking than ever, it seemed as if some leaden hand 
 had raised the lids, that space itself might be scared by their 
 fixedness. 
 
 The body of Bertha shook before the spectacle. It was 
 long before her speech returned to her ; but it did return, 
 and she wept, and she fell on her knees, and she called his 
 name, "Karl, my dear Karl, — my love — my life!" He 
 breathed, his chest rose and fell, but no answer came from 
 him. She seized him violently and sci'eamed. Karl jumped 
 up. The candle fell from her hand, and she sunk upon the flooi*. 
 The moonbeams mantled her with their cold light. The ap- 
 pearance of Karl's features, as he rushed to Bertha and spoke 
 to her, was truly awful. It was not anger, it was not fear, 
 it was not remorse. It was frenzy and weakness — human 
 weakness and distress. He clasped his hands, and bending 
 over the poor wretch, whose face was buried in the earth, in 
 a piercing, heart-rending tone, he cried, " My child, my wife ! 
 I CANNOT, I CANNOT — it is my curse — I cannot close these 
 
 MABBLE MOCKERIES ! ! ! " 
 
 Dear Mr. Hood, 
 
 I am very much obliged to you for the loan of that 
 interesting work, "The Grim Spectre of Schaffenwalden ;''' 
 but please do not send me any more of the same kind. I 
 read it last night, and I can truly say, I never suffered so 
 much in my life from any undertaking. I retired, it would 
 be a mockery to say, to rest — at one o'clock this morning :
 
 A NOTE FKOM MY NOTE BOOK. 543 
 
 no, it was to dream and perspire ; from one until three, the 
 Grim Spectre of SchafFenwalden danced without ceasing at 
 the bottom of the bed : from three till six I was oppressed 
 with the vision which I commit to paper, and now scud for 
 your edification. Publish it — do what you please with it — 
 but I beseech you entertain a proper esteem for past favours, 
 anc' send me no more Spectres from Schaffenwalden. 
 
 Your faithful 
 January, 18-i5. Benjamin Jones. 
 
 A NOTE FROM MY NOTE BOOK. 
 
 One of the most beautiful poems in the English language 
 is CoUins's Ode to Evening. Its melody is exquisite ; and 
 the construction and rhythm are woi'thy of study. There is 
 in the composition a peculiarity which greatly helps the 
 charm ; by one of those happy characteristic effects which 
 genius by art or instinct is so apt to produce. The whoh 
 poem, is hut one sentence. There is no full stop till the end. 
 The verse flows on unbroken, like one of those gentle con- 
 tinuous breezes that breathe on a fine summer evening. 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 A Lord bought of late an outlandish estate, 
 At its Wild Boars to Chevy and dig ; 
 
 So some people purchase a pig in a poke, 
 And others, a poke in a pig.
 
 APPENDIX,
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Since the publication of the first volume of this series 
 many kind friends — and many kind strangers, one as far off 
 as Austi-alia — nave afibrded information which throws some 
 light on the earlier portion of my father's career as an 
 author. 
 
 The first thing 1 had better do is to correct a mistake of 
 my own, the insertion of a review of the Cook's Oracle, 
 which I was led to believe was my father's, but which really 
 was from the pen of John Hamilton Reynolds. Between 
 him and my father I am now able to apportion the Odes and 
 Addresses, my Australian correspondent having furnished me 
 with a list of those marked by my father as his own, in 
 a presentation copy. According to this, he contributed the 
 verses addressed to Graham, Mrs. Fry, Richard Martin, the 
 Great Unknown, Joseph Griraaldi, the Steam Washing Com- 
 pany, Captain Parry, and William Kitchener. 
 
 I have also found that my father was for a short time a 
 contributor to " Maga," in which, in 182G, appeared the 
 " Ode to the Moon," and the " Monkey Martyr ;" the former 
 subsequently republished in " the Plea of the Midsummer 
 Fairies," the latter in the second series of " Whims and 
 Oddities." 
 
 The "Verses in an Album" (p. 230, vol. i.) were written 
 
 in 1823, and not in 1825 as I supposed. I have found the 
 VOL. X. 35
 
 546 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 original leaf, whereon, beneath them, are the following liuea 
 by l^arry Cornwall : — 
 
 TO TUE WKITEK OF THE ABOVE LINES. 
 
 Why then, — sing for ever 
 In an amorous tone 
 Till the great Apollo 
 Crown thee for his owr., — 
 So may laurel shade thee. 
 And no care invade thee 
 Near his golden throne .' 
 
 May, 1823. 
 
 There, — with love and siugiUi;, 
 Happy may'st thou be 
 As the green woods ringing, 
 When from branch ana tree 
 Music falls in showers 
 Hiding the spring hours 
 With its rich melody. 
 
 There, — with song and pleasoio 
 
 Dower' d, and the ray 
 
 Of the God, whose treasure 
 
 Passeth not away, — 
 
 Live, and sing for ever. 
 
 Like the Pindus river 
 
 Crowned with deathless bay. 
 
 B. W. P. 
 
 Proctor, with the true poetic instinct, recognised my 
 fiither as a brother bard even at this early period. In the 
 " Flood of Thessaly," and other poems, published by him 
 at the beginning of the same year, one of the poems in the
 
 APPENDIX. 647 
 
 volume, " The Geneaiogies," is dedicated to my father in the 
 follawinsr words : — 
 
 " To Thomas Hood. 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " I offer this fragment to you partly because you 
 are a lover of the mirthful, as well as of the serious ; but 
 principally because I am anxious to incite you by this open 
 acknowledgment of your rare poetical powers to exercise 
 them for the gratification of the public. 
 
 " I would not be thought forwai'd in thus becoming the 
 herald of your reputation, but I am nevertheless desirous of 
 saying (what I have never before said to you) that believing 
 your poetical faculty to be equal to very high accomplish- 
 ment, I shall venture, in case you enrol your name among 
 the living poets, to look forward with confidence to your 
 complete success. 
 
 "I am, 
 
 " Sincerely yours, 
 
 "B. C." 
 
 The lines by Pauper, at p. 379, vol. ii., which I conjectured 
 to be Reynolds's, are, I am informed, by Mr. Dilke (who has 
 my most sincei'e thanks for the valuable assistance he has 
 given me in this edition) by Barry Cornwall. 
 
 At p. 348 of vol. ii., I have given my reasons for believing 
 that my father wrote some pieces for the stage. My conjec- 
 ture has been borne out by several facts I have since learnt. 
 Mr. Folkard, an old friend of my father's, informs me that 
 a farce of his, called " York and Lancaster — or a School with- 
 out Scholars," was acted at the Adelphi Theatre about thirty 
 years ago. Of this, unfortunately, only the following song 
 remains. It was sung by Wilkinson, as a melancholy school- 
 boy — in fact, the only scholar at a Yoi'kshue school : the
 
 648 APPENDIX. 
 
 'ther two characters in the farce being sustained by Yates 
 and Matthews. 
 
 When I was first a scholar, I went to Doctor Monk, 
 
 And elephant-hke I had, sir, a cake put in my trunk ; 
 
 The Rev. Doctor Monk, sir, was very grave and prim, 
 
 He stood full six foot high, sir, and we all looked up to him. 
 
 They didn't pinch and starve us, as here they do at York, 
 For every boy was ask'd, sir, to bring a knife and fork. 
 And then I had a chum too, to fag and all of that, 
 I made him sum up my sums too, and eat up all my fat. 
 
 For goodness we had prizes, and birch for doing ill. 
 But none of the Birch that visits the bottom of Cornhill.* 
 And we'd half a dozen ushers to teach us Latin and Greek, 
 And all we'd got in our head, sir, was combed out once a 
 week. 
 
 And then we had a shop, too, for lollipops and squibs, 
 Where I often had a lick, sir, at Buonaparty's ribs ! t 
 Oh ! if I was at Clapham, at my old school again, 
 In the rod I could fancy honey, and sugar in the cane. 
 
 I am indebted to Mr. Robert Bell — and much indebted to 
 him — for a further proof of my fathers connection with the 
 stage. In the year 1826, under Mr. Bell's editorship, 
 appeared " The Atlas," supporting on its shoulders the world 
 of literature and art, " the largest sheet ever issued from the 
 press," and almost the only one treating of such topics at 
 that time. For this journal my fither wss for some time 
 the dramatic critic. In the second number appeared the 
 Ode to Gibbon Wakefield, to be found at page 443 of vol. i. 
 
 * Birch's pastry-cook's shop is still at the bottom of Cornhill. 
 
 f Buonaparte's ribs — a favourite sweetmeat some thirty years since.
 
 APPENDIX. 649 
 
 of the Works. Unable to trace its origin, I assigned to it 
 the date of Wakefield's trial instead of the date of Miss 
 Tui'ner's abduction. In the eighth number was given " the 
 Ode to Mr. Wrench," which will be found at page 363 of vol. 
 ii. of the Works. Mr. Wrench was again acting at the 
 English Opera House in 1831, to which date I erroneously 
 attributed the ode that I possessed only as an undated news- 
 paper cutting. 
 
 Of oourse the reprinting of these criticisms entire is out 
 of the question. But I have gone through them carefully 
 with a view of extracting such portions as are characteristic 
 of my father's style and manner of thinking. In many in- 
 stances these extracts will have the further merit of recall- 
 ing to the minds of old play-goers the dramatic celebrities of 
 their youth. They have appeared to me on both these 
 grounds so interesting — and on the former so valuable as 
 specimens of my father's writing at that early period in his 
 career, that I print them in the belief that the public will 
 agree with me that they deserve a place here. 
 
 THEATRICALS. 
 
 On taking our place as theatrical critics in the " Atlas," it 
 may be expected that we should bestow a few words on our- 
 selves. And first, we hope, and mean, to dispense impartial 
 justice amongst those jealous, ambitious, unreasonable, 
 amusing people called actors, and actresses. We are aware 
 of the difficulty of the task, — but we come unbiassed by any 
 stage connections, and resolute to perform our office without 
 fear or favoijr. We are not partisans of any lady or gentle- 
 ^''111 upon the boards. There are persons, we know, who
 
 J50 APPENDIX. 
 
 cannot tolerate any performer but Mr. Macready, and some 
 ■who can allow of no excellence extant but Mr. Young's. It is 
 impossible, -with many judges, that there can be a clever Mr. 
 Yates, because there is such a clever Mr. Mathews. With 
 others, there is but one actor, and that is Mr. Penley. We 
 have our favourites, bat they do not engross all our liking. 
 Our delight in Miss Kelly does not hinder us from seeing 
 what is pleasant in Mrs. Farlowe. Our partiality for Mr. 
 Wrench does not blind us to the merits of Mr. Bennet. 
 There are other persons who never value any talents till they 
 are gone by, and therefore could not say a good word for 
 Munden till after his retirement. But although we have 
 been happy enough to have seen Mrs. Jordan and Mrs. 
 Siddons, and the great Kemble, our praises will not be of 
 that retrospective kind. The living actors and actresses who 
 shall deserve them, may expect our hearty commendations, in 
 prose and verse, — the faulty will be treated, of course, with 
 a wholesome severity. In the first row of the pit — the 
 critic's proper place, though he cannot always get to it — we 
 shall take our seat, and from thence keep a wary eye upon 
 both play-wrights and players. 
 
 For the present week it was our design to notice Mr. 
 Elliston's FalstafF. But his untimely accident on Monday 
 tripped up the heels of our intentions, and brought it down 
 with him upon its face. As far as looks went, they promised 
 well for his perfonnance ; his laughing eye told admirably of 
 the roguish, humorous knight, and the owner, both on and 
 off the boards, was ever a very pleasant comedian. Perhaps 
 he was not stuffed enough ; but it turned out providential. 
 Even as Cassio miscarried, so did he ! Just at that speech — 
 " Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, bestride me, so — 
 'tis a point of friendship," — the performer staggered to the 
 8tage-door, and fell. Bunn's dictator — Winston's master —
 
 APPEXDIX. 551 
 
 Macready's manager — fell ! — Drury'a Emperor lay gi-ovelliuo: 
 UDon the boards ! 
 
 " Fallen ! fallen ! fallen ! 
 Fallen from his high estate." 
 
 Oh ! Great Lessee, then wert thou lessened ! thou didst 
 lose, Great Manager ! all thyself, and self-management. The 
 Whitsuntide rabble, that had perhaps quaked before thee at 
 the Surrey — holiday butchers that had scrambled down from 
 thy benches at thy bidding — men that had bowed to thy 
 Olympic dignity — beheld thee prostrate ! They hooted and 
 hissed thee to scorn. The gentle Sambo, thy own Mi-. 
 Spring, sigheth now, mstead of his usual smiling ; and 
 Wenston shaketh his head. Thy enemies — men that have 
 smarted from thy kick and thy stick — have lifted up their 
 horns. Williams croweth at thee. Poole is avenged. The 
 refractoi-y glass-blowers are chuckling over thee in a para- 
 graph. " There are forty laughing like one." 
 
 Thy fault is, after all, venial — a gentlemanly frailty — 
 though the fit was ill-timed. To drink is human ; but we 
 dread the effect of such high, flagrant example upon the 
 universal establishment. If, hereafter, a Hamlet shall come 
 in maudlin, who shall reprove it ? Canst thou fine Lear for 
 being only in his cups 1 Li our mind's eye we see a groggy 
 Macbeth. The three overtaken witches are tumbling into 
 their own cauldron. The figurantes dance reels bacchanalian. 
 The scene-shifters are misjoining fragments of laud and sea 
 — ill-painted blotches, for Stanfield has dipped his brush into 
 a full rummer. Rosina is singing suspiciously out of tune 
 and time ; and Othello (there is precedent for it) is un- 
 affectedly drunk. Wilt thou ever hold up thy head again 
 upon the stage 1 We hope so, after a few salutary vows, and 
 a decent retirement. But remember the lesson for ever-
 
 652 APPENDIX. 
 
 more. An old dramatist has well hinted at the danger of 
 Huch disasters to the performer ; and oh ! remember, in thy 
 heart of hearts, his emphatic warning —   
 
 " Close up thy rigid teeth, and ne'er undo 'em, 
 To suffer wet damnation to run thro' em." 
 
 COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 Woodstock. — As soon as the Great Unknown has tieated 
 the public with a novel, the next operation is to hash it up 
 for the drama ; and, in jaost cases, it does not bear the after 
 process quite so well as hare. The present is one of those cases 
 — the three volumes are served up again, in five acts ; and 
 the public have accepted it with a sufficiently hearty relish. 
 The novel did not seem to us furnished with plot enough for 
 stage adaptation — and for want of a sufficient story, the play 
 drags on rather heavily. We would have Mr. Farren to 
 reconsider the character of Sir Henry Lee, against the next 
 representation. There was too much of face-making, and 
 not enough of the hearty, hunter-like roughness — it was not, 
 •n fact, the Sir Henry Lee of the novel ; he looked too much an 
 innocent to be classed amongst the Malignants; but it would 
 lave made a capital Polonius. Let Mr. Warde, too, sober his 
 transports of anguish a little at sight of the first Charles's por- 
 trait. Old Noll might perchance feel as tenderly, but he 
 certainly would have never displayed it — and before a cava- 
 lier. The language is sufficiently near the original ; but the 
 conclusion of the play is dismally huddled up, — of the s(ur- 
 prise of the garrison — the King's escape — the Protector's
 
 APPENDIX. 553 
 
 liberation — of the Loyalists, and the marriage of Alice Lee 
 with Mai-kham Everhard — literally all in a breath. 
 
 On giving out Woodstock for repetition, it was answered 
 with general approbation ; but we should advise a great deal 
 of pruning before the piece is played again — or, to refer to 
 our first comparison, let the gristles and skin be taken out. 
 One scene, indeed, proved so uninteresting to the gallery 
 that the gods betook themselves to conversation, not in 
 whispers — and a noise ensued that would have silenced Miss 
 Paton for ever. 
 
 We have read strange stories lately of this lady abruptly 
 leaving off in the middle of her song, because an unlucky 
 boatswain made a remark in the one shilling gallery. On a 
 second observation, it is said that she threw up her song, 
 and left the stage ! The very singing-birds might have 
 taught her not to be so easily put up, or put down. It is 
 but an Irish method, after all, of spiting her friends and 
 obliging her enemies ; and besides, singers are not paid to 
 give themselves airs, but for giving them to other people. 
 
 BENEFITS. 
 
 The performers' nights are, by custom, exempt from criti- 
 cism. They are set apart for the actor's harvest, and it 
 would be as unkind to enforce the right of censorship as to 
 insist upon the privileges of the free list. At such times 
 the children of the drama play, not for reputation, but for 
 profit. They are reduced to the condition of the imfortunate 
 gentleman in the Spectator, who advertised to murder him- 
 self by subscription. It is not the fault of performers if 
 they must burlesque themselves, like the late Billy Waters,
 
 554 APPENDIX. 
 
 to get at the public pocket. They are expected to gratify 
 their friends (and, next to enemies, there are none so diffi- 
 cult to satisfy as one's connections), not only with double 
 measures of entertainment for the usual money, but -with 
 extraordinary novelties. They must please the friendly 
 bakers that take their tickets, and the butchei*s that stick 
 their bills upon the sheep's backs. They must, especially, 
 tempt the sober families who make it a point to visit the 
 theatres once a year, to attend on the particular night 
 of their benefit ; and they must tempt, too, the ordinary 
 play-goer with some extravagance. A gentleman from 
 Whitechapel may see Mr. Macready's Virginius sundry times 
 in a month, but his Loouey MacTwolter will happen only 
 once in a season. It is from none of Bottom's ambition, if 
 Mr. Farren abuses the character of lago. It is only " to put 
 money in his purse," if Mr. Young takes to Don Giovanni iu 
 feathers ; or Harley to prove how fit he is for a fidgety 
 Hamlet. Their follies are not more cognizable than the 
 slips of gentlemen in their cups. If dancers sing, and 
 singers dance, it must be winked at. Mr. Braham may 
 promise a pas de trois with Mrs. Gibbs and ]\Irs. Glover ; 
 while Mr. Fawcett condescends, "for that night only," to 
 swallow a broadsword ; and the favourite song of " Cherry 
 Kipe" is volunteered by Mrs. Davenport. Madame Yestris 
 in pantaloons is no novelty, but she will black her face, and 
 murder Othello and Desdemona. Even Mr. Liston must 
 double his own attractions by the introduction of a real 
 jackass, and perhaps recite a chapter out of Hervey's Medita- 
 tions. The critic smothers his gi'owl at such excesses ; he is 
 expected to have neither eyes nor ears at a Benefit.
 
 APPENDIX. 555 
 
 COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 At Ccvent Garden, the new piece of Woodstock has 
 lasted, like a bachelor's leg of mutton, all through the week ; 
 but we would rather see the joint a; second time than the 
 play. Apropos of mutton, — we must object to Mr. Kemble's 
 farce of eating in the supper scene. There was an abun- 
 dance of knife-and-fork work, as if the very platter would 
 follow the eatables, but little of true mouth-service ; it was a 
 sham fight with the victuals. He played it as brother 
 Stephen used to play Falstaff — without stuffing. He was 
 like the miller in the proverb, that makes a meal, but does 
 not eat at all. It had the mere sound of eating, like a 
 turkey's gobbling. We can fancy how Wrench would have 
 devoured it ; but a manager, perhaps, cannot be expected to 
 be so hungry as an actor. Let him doff, too, those trans- 
 verse sticking-plaster patches, as numerous and frightful as 
 Munchhausen's in the authentic portrait. They seem a bur- 
 lesque allusion to the dethroned Charles, as "a king of 
 shreds and patches." As there is a deviation in that part 
 from the novel, the whole stoiy of his bricklayer's accident 
 down the front of the house, and the scratching of his 
 august face against the rough cart, had better be omitted. 
 
 AMERICAN THEATRICALS. 
 
 There has been a theatrical row at Philadelphia, but 
 between a manager and an actor. A Mr. Wemyss persisted 
 in using the expression of "a brave Englishman," as set
 
 656 APPENDIX. 
 
 down in the play, but which words it had been customary 
 with the American peformers to omit — we presume about 
 the time when the Chesapeake was worsted by the Shannon. 
 Mr, Wemyss finally triumphed, though the mention of our 
 valour incurred a few hisses. In the Pope's dominions all 
 expressions of applause or disapprobation have been pro- 
 hibited, under a recent code of regulations that must seem 
 intolerable in our climate. Conceive a free asthmatic 
 Englishman thrust neck and crop out of the pit for an 
 untimely cough ; or an unfortunate merry gentleman of our 
 acquaintance, who has a snake-like laugh, so near akin to a 
 hissing that Mr. Mathews once, in a nervous moment, 
 would have offered him a guinea to get out of the Lyceum. 
 
 PASTA'S MEDEA. 
 
 Of Madame Pasta's acting in the character of Medea, it is 
 impossible to speak in terms of Hufficient praise. It is a 
 performance full of genius, and a study for the poet, the 
 sculptor, and the musician. It would require a genius equal 
 to her own to describe the sublime expression of her voice 
 and gesture with which she gave the one word " lo," where 
 Jason asks, " Che sperar posso ? Che mi resta ? " (" What 
 can I hope, and what remains for me 1 " in the English version 
 of the books,) and she replies, " lo," a shout of admira- 
 tion followed this magnificent burst, which spoke a soul in a 
 single sound. Here we had Medea in the agony of her pride 
 and passion. In another scene, that of the preparations for 
 the marriage of Jason and Creusa, we saw her a suppliant at 
 Jason's feet, and nothing could exceed the touching effect
 
 APPENDIX. 657 
 
 with which she gave the passage, "Mira infido, a quale stato, 
 Bol per te ridotto io sono." In the expression of tenderness 
 in all its shapes, Madame Pasta is unrivalled. Her caresses 
 are always full of grace and beauty ; and is there, in the whole 
 world, a more lovely sight than the gentle endearments which 
 mark the affections of a fond but delicate woman 1 
 
 Our vulgar performers, our Romeos and Juliets, show 
 their ardours by the extremity of their hugs — they love as 
 bears fight. Madame Pasta, in the last scene of Romeo, 
 throws back the hair from the forehead of Juliet, and simply 
 clasps her head. There is a depth of love in that single 
 action that we never before saw expressed ; it is not a caress 
 of dalliance — that would be out of place when Romeo is on 
 the brink of eternity — but of a love as pure from grossness 
 as that the mother bears her child. It is a beautiful com- 
 mentary on a phrase which has always been a great favourite 
 of ours, the carum caput of the Latins, the (^1X7 K«pa'\ri of 
 the Greeks. Madame Pasta, when she clasped the lovely 
 head of Ronzi de Begnis, made us feel the full force of the 
 carum caput. We have since seen the same action used on 
 a less bewitching subject, but with almost equal effect. In 
 Medea, her caresses of her children are unspeakably lovely ; 
 she does not smother them with kisses in the manner of 
 our Coras, but the mother's passion speaks in her eloquent 
 face, and she bestows one kiss on her babes, single and sweet 
 as the feeling which fills her heart. But these are beauties 
 to be seen, not to be told ; and our readers, to appreciate, 
 must behold them in the inimitable acting of the Siddons of 
 the lyric drama.
 
 658 APPENDIX. 
 
 THE DOG OF DRUKY LANE. 
 
 Dbury Lane was once saved by a dog. He held the head 
 of its sinking prosperity above water, and dragged it, drip- 
 ping, not of water, but gold, into the treasury. The stoiy is 
 told by Reynolds in his " Life and Times ; " and Elliston 
 seems to have had a friendly reading of the proof sheets, and 
 to have adopted the hint. It was a jewel of a suggestion. 
 Dogs draw, the manager knew, in Kamtschatka, and why not 
 in Drury Lane 1 The readers of the " Crusaders " will 
 remember, in the tale called the " Talisman," a notable 
 Scotch hound, belonging to Sir Kenneth, and attending con- 
 stantly on the waiTior, like Crab upon Launce. There was 
 an excellent opportunity to dramatise the novel of the Great 
 Unknown, and to have a real dog at the same time. The 
 ingenious Mr. Beazley undertook the literary arrangements ; 
 Bishop, the songs to dish up ; whilst the manager roamed 
 all the repositories of dog-dealers and dog -stealers, and the 
 wharfs of Baukside and Horsleydown, for an appropriate 
 mastiff. He succeeded finally, we believe, in Newfoundland. 
 The new performer is a fine creatm*e of that breed ; black 
 turned up with white, and a bushy tail, and answers to the 
 name of Neptune. We are not in possession of the terms of 
 his engagement, but rumour hints that his salary is equal to 
 that of Miss Stephens, and that he is to have a joint benefit 
 at the end of the season with Mr. Penley. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Mu.WALLACK,in goodly armour, as the lion-heaited Richard, 
 divides the applauses with the dog ; but the gentleman is 
 the better performer. His forte is decidedly melodrame. 
 As the Knight of Saowdoun, and warriora of that romantic
 
 APPENDIX. 559 
 
 breed, he excels. He looks well in armour aud feathers ; he 
 has a good presence, with a skill and energy at fencing, and 
 a taste in dress and attitude, which the designers of the 
 lotteiy- pictures toil after in vain. He is just such a prince 
 as schoolboys dream of when they read of Valentine, the 
 subduer of Orson — he would make a capital king's Champion 
 at a coronation. But he has no soul of whim, no airiness. 
 He will never be the sprightly Prince Hal, which he lately 
 attempted. His mirth is as hollow as the pathos of Mrs. W. 
 West, whom we can fancy to wipe dust sometimes out of the 
 corner of her eye, but not tears. She is contented to charm 
 without the soitow that " makes beauty more beautiful than 
 beauty's self" So Mr. ^yallack is not born to jest and 
 smile, but to fight and frown — both favourite habits of the 
 royal Crusader. His exclamation of " Ha ! " supposed to be 
 characteristic of Richard, was too much after the pattern of 
 a pavior's sigh ; but through the rest of the part he bore 
 himself right gallantly, and tore down the " rag of Austria " 
 like a lion indeed. 
 
 Mr. Bennet is accused of copying Mr. ^lacready, which is 
 a pity, when he might be as good an original. The proprietor 
 of Yirginius could not have done better for the Knight of 
 the Leopard — but comparisons, Mrs. Jenkins says, are odorous. 
 Sir Kenneth was worthily sustained, and his personation of 
 the dumb Nubian in particular ; but we wish there had been 
 another Mr. Younge for the Hermit of Engaddi. Mr. 
 Archer has a good sensible face, and he brought no discredit 
 on physiognomy by his performance. Though obliged to be 
 three gentlemen at once, like Cerberus, he had little to do, 
 and he did not overdo it — a rare merit in an actor. Neptune, 
 on the contrary, threatened to exceed his part. He defended 
 the standard of England, and limped on with one leg 
 wounded, — that is, tied up, — very plausibly ; but in the last
 
 560 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 scene, when he should not have even strained at the leash 
 till the approach of Monserrat, he betrayed rather an incli- 
 nation to have a wrestle with each of the allies. He seems 
 to enjoy the romping part of his work ; however, he was re- 
 strained till the proper moment, and then setting oft' in a 
 canter, and catching Mr. Howell by his red worsted comforter, 
 they had a roll and tumble together, to the audible delight 
 of the house. 
 
 ***** 
 
 On the second night, an apology was made for the absence 
 of Mr. Horn, through indisposition. The baneful example 
 of the manager begins already to prevail ! Miss Stephens, 
 too, was away, though her name was set down iu the bills. 
 Another lady sang " Di piacer," and " Should he upbraid," on 
 her behalf ; and the " Horn, the lusty horn," was supplied 
 by the chorus singers in the last act. To make amends for 
 these accidents there was a delightful young party in the 
 left-hand stage box. A group of three little girls — the 
 youngest, a blue-eyed child, with fair glossy hair, as pretty 
 and natural as a flower ; the two others, iu caps and cherry 
 coloured ribbons, both arch and artless in expression ; and 
 the trio looking altogether like a picture of Sir Joshua's. 
 We wish he had painted them, for then they might be seen 
 again. 
 
 VELLUTL 
 
 But let us come to his voice, which is " the main business. 
 The defects of his voice," says Anglo-Italicus, " are so glaring 
 as to bo evident to the coarsest ears, and are therefore the 
 less to bo insisted ou by the judicious and delicate." This
 
 APPENDIX. 501 
 
 is an odd argument. By a parity of reasoning, when w© 
 object to a horse-dealer that the horse we are examining has 
 three lame legs, the jockey may say, " The defects of his legs 
 are so glaring as to be evident to the eyes of a tailor, and 
 are therefore the less to be insisted on by the j udicious and 
 delicate horseman." But our main business is with the legs 
 of the horse, and the voice of the singer, and we cannot pass 
 over defects in either one or the other on the score of their 
 grossness. 
 
 VAUXHALL. 
 
 —   — 
 
 It is no slight merit in these times to redeem pledges ; and 
 on W'^dnesday we redeemed ours by visiting these Surrey 
 Gardens. It happened to be the night of the re-celebration 
 of the battle of Waterloo. For at Vauxhall it was found profit- 
 able to keep such festivals twice over, and the place was slV 
 in a blaze with emblems of military glory. The names G 
 "Wellington and Waterloo showed fiery off indeed in parti- 
 coloured flame, and seemed a pattern for History to write of 
 
 the hero — 
 
 "With a pencil ot light," 
 
 according to the suggestion oi Moore. There was an abun- 
 dance of illumination, but we think we have seen the 
 ornaments more tastefully and airily disposed. The trophy 
 shields were formal, and the crowns somewhat lumpish and 
 heavy — light, as Dr. Donne would quibble, should be light — 
 but there was a seasonable and splendid rose in June that 
 did honour to the genius of the lamps. 
 
 The conversion of the Rotunda into a concert-room is a 
 
 decided improvement. We never relished much the gusty 
 VOL. X. 36
 
 562 AITENDIX. 
 
 songs set to the open air of the gardens. The audience 
 
 shivering to the singer's quivering — the rain getting the 
 
 better of the words — and Miss Tunstall, quite out of curl, 
 
 warbhng on like a steam-boat with the wind in her teeth. 
 
 Besides, listening is a sedentary pleasure ; noise is active ; 
 
 silence is passive. Speechmakers instinctively " get on their 
 
 legs " to speak, but the hearers as naturally sit. It is no 
 
 fiction, therefore, to say that in the new concert-room Charles 
 
 Taylor sings all the better for the benches. We prick np 
 
 our ears to Miss Stephens with tenfold pleasure whilst we 
 
 are squatting, like a hare, upon a form. 
 
 * * » * » 
 
 But Vauxhall, in spite of the insinuations of a learned 
 punning friend, is not exclusively vocal, or Vox — et preterea 
 nihil. To pass over panoramic views of Florence, <fec., and 
 an artificial waterfall (a relation, by the sound, of Mr. 
 Tinney) ; there is the ballet. Mademoiselle Rossignol and 
 Monsieur B. Vestris dance with equal grace and agility. The 
 fireworks are splended ; and the adventurous rope-walker 
 comes down the perilous cord, small and radiant with squibs 
 and crackers, like an American fire-fly. 
 
 Come, come, I am very 
 Disposed to be men-y — 
 So hey ! for a wherry 
 
 I beckon and bawl ! 
 'Tis dry, not a damp night, 
 And pleasure will tramp light 
 To music and lamp light 
 
 At shinino; Vauxhall ! 
 
 'ra 
 
 I 
 
 Ay, here's the dark portal— 
 The check-taking mortal
 
 APPENDIX. 668 
 
 T pass, and turn short all 
 At once on the blaze — 
 
 Names famous in story. 
 
 Lit up con amore, 
 
 All flaming in glory, 
 Distracting the gaze I 
 
 Oh my name lies fallow — 
 Fame never will hallow 
 In red light and yellow 
 
 Poetical toil — 
 I've long tried to write up 
 My name, and take flight up ; 
 But ink will not light up 
 
 Like cotton and oil ! 
 
 But sad thoughts, keep under !■ 
 The painted Rotunder- 
 Invites me. I wonder 
 
 Who's singing so clear 1 
 'Tis Sinclair, high-flying, 
 Scotch ditties supplying ; 
 But some hearts are sighinsr 
 
 For Dignum, I fear ! 
 
 How bright is the lustre, 
 How thick the folks muster. 
 And eagerly cluster. 
 
 On bench and in box, — 
 Whilst Povey is waking 
 Sweet sounds, or the taking 
 Kate Stephens is shakini^ 
 
 Her voice and her locks !
 
 564 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 What clapping attends her !- 
 The white doe befriends her- 
 How Braham attends her 
 
 Away by the hand, 
 For Love to succeed her ; 
 The Signor doth heed her, 
 And sigheth to lead her 
 
 Instead of the band ! 
 
 Then out we all sally — 
 Time's ripe for the Ballet, 
 Like bees they all rally 
 
 Before the machine ! — 
 But I am for tracing 
 The bright wal]is and facing 
 The groups that are pacing 
 
 To see and be seen. 
 
 How motley they mingle — 
 What men might one single, 
 And names that would tinglo 
 
 Or tickle the ear — 
 Fresh Chinese contrivers 
 Of letters — survivors 
 Of pawnbrokers — divers 
 
 Beau Tibbses appear ! 
 
 Such Uttle and great men, 
 
 And civic and state men^ 
 
 Collectors and rate-men — 
 
 How pleasant to nod 
 
  
 
 APPENDIX. 685 
 
 To friends — to note fiishions, 
 To make speculations 
 On people and passions — 
 To laugh at the odd ! 
 
 ^o"- 
 
 To sup on true slices 
 Of ham — with fair prices 
 For fowl — while cool ices 
 
 And liquors abound — 
 To see Blackmore wander, 
 A small salamander, 
 Adown the rope yonder, 
 
 And light on the ground ! 
 
 Oh, the fireworks are splendid ; 
 But darkness is blended — 
 Bright things are soon ended. 
 
 Fade quickly and fall ! 
 There goes the last rocket ! — 
 Some cash out of pocket, 
 By stars in the socket, 
 
 I go from Vauxhall ! 
 
 WRENCH. 
 
 Next to the inimitable Kelly, — accomplished as art can 
 make her, yet natural as instinct — the only complete actress 
 on the stage — a bequest seemingly from the superlative old 
 school, talked of by the elderly playgoers — there is Wrench, 
 worthy of her companionship — 
 
 "Each lends to each a double charm."
 
 665 append; A. 
 
 They play delightfully together, like a pair of consummate 
 whist -partners, either one knowing and aiding the other's 
 game. Here a she-sun, there a he moon — as old Donne 
 whimsically expresses it — they reflect the spirit of pleasantry 
 from one to the other, and not a single ray is wasted between 
 them. From this well-matched pair, there is a regular gra- 
 dation of second and third, and fourth rates, down to the 
 very poor-rates of performance.* 
 
 We are aware that the rise and fall of popular favourite^ 
 do not excite an equal interest, like those of a balloon, but 
 we do trust that Mrs. Bland will not be forgotten by the 
 many who were once charmed with a passing sweet voice, 
 because it is somewhat past its sweetness. 
 
 SUEEEY THEATER 
 
 The Rake's Progress. — We thought the managers of the 
 theatres had ceased to take charge of the morals of the 
 town ; at least it is some Easters since George Barnwell 
 was played at both houses, for the benefit of the Lon- 
 don apprentices. Did uncle-killing become more frequent 
 for the representation, or were the holiday folks at last 
 disgusted with that annual stage homily ? Perhaps the 
 numerous Milwoods and young profligates, presumed to be 
 sitting to have their conscience caught at a play, like the 
 King in Hamlet, refused to patronise it any longer as one of 
 their amusements. It must have seemed unhandsome to 
 the lower orders, at a season marked as their own — nay, at a 
 time when, in consideration of their countenance, they ought 
 even to have commanded a play, to be twitted, in the mass, 
 
   Here follows the Ode to Wrench, see vol. ii. p. 363. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I
 
 APPENDIX. 567 
 
 \viili embezzlement and murder. Tlicy would not like, 
 whilst enjoying their holiday fruit, to be reminded of that 
 last bitter orange that moisteneth the culprit's lip — to have 
 the gallows for an everlasting drop scene. There must have 
 been, too, something dull and uninteresting in a tragedy, 
 tending to a catastrophe which they had witnessed, probably 
 in reality, at least once a week, before the Debtors' door of 
 Newgate. Perhaps, having been sundry times admonished 
 in earnest by the Judge or the Recorder, they resented, as 
 superfluous and impertinent, such a make-believe lecture. 
 Folks that have snuffed the Old Bailey rosemary and rue — 
 that have witnessed the awful black cap, jostled with Jack 
 Ketch himself, and nodded farewells to condemned friends 
 with halters about their necks — must find something mar- 
 vellously stale, flat, and unprofitable, in the play's unempha- 
 tical warnings ! 
 
 AN IMAGINAEY FIRST NIGHT. 
 
 In the absence of a real subject, we will attempt to 
 sketch the progress of an imaginary modern play, and to 
 show Tip, by the way, some of the prevailing absurdities of 
 authors, actors, and composers. Not to seem invidious, we 
 will lay the scene at Drury Lane ; because, whatever soiry 
 picture we may draw, that theatre cannot be damaged by 
 the application, as it is expected to show quite as a different 
 thing under a new and judicious management. 
 
 Gentle reader, link your own arm in mine, if you please, 
 to Brydges-street. There is no mob, you see, unless we 
 count in the bill-mongers about the entrances. The public 
 promenade without a single shriek to the pit, and are
 
 568 APPENDIX. 
 
 particularly nice and fickle in their selection of situation. 
 There is no Hobson's choice about seats. There is room for 
 small families in the gallery. The first, " first company," 
 two youths in black cravats, and three ladies in Braganzas, 
 monopolise the dress circle. Nineteen gentlemen, on the 
 free list, straggle in about five minutes before seven. The 
 pittites and the party in No. 6 look at each other for half 
 an hour longer, till the ting-tinkling bell annoimces that the 
 orchestra are going to " play away the overture " — a medley 
 of music discomposed for the occasion, and called new, as we 
 speak of the New River. It commences according to the 
 recommendation of Mr. Puff, in The Critic, with three 
 crashes, or " morning guns ;" and then away go the notes, 
 capering and scampering up and down the gamut, shivering 
 and quivering, sometimes in concord, sometimes all discords, 
 shrieking and scratching and grating, like the dragging 
 about of ragged iron fenders, wuth every now and then a 
 smart crash like the splitting of a piece of new Irish linen. 
 Anon, a bumping running bass, as if the double drum had a 
 bad tumble down stairs from the garret to the bottom of 
 the house. The secondary violinists seem to be sawing, and 
 the leader with a finer hand-movement to be filing, their 
 instruments. The music has something of the sound of 
 both of those harsh mechanical operations. The trombonist, 
 with despairing energy, seems operating on himself with a 
 patent stomach-pump. The kettle-drummer — good with 
 both hands, like Randall — is punishing his instrument up in 
 a corner. Heads and arms are wriggling with universal 
 rapidity ; the music is in full gallop ; when suddenly it pulls 
 up on its haunches, and the listening faculty is canted head 
 foremost a good yard in advance. A dead pause — and then 
 the fiddles fall again into hysterics. Another rumble of 
 thunder, and a small peaking pipe drops in, all alone, like a
 
 APPENDIX. 569 
 
 dribblet of small beer, or the childish treble of an infant at a 
 christening. Before it is turned off, the bass-viol grumbles 
 in, as if weary of standing so long upon its head. And then 
 a fresh crash, followed by three little crashes. The trumpets 
 blow up for a storm ; the fiddles work themselves into a 
 tearing passion (it is Orpheus being torn into pieces anew 
 by the raving Bacchanals), the whole winding up in a row of 
 descriptive uproar. There is no need of telling what noises 
 the music speaks for ; like the labelled passages in the 
 Battle of Prague, the delighted Londoner easily recognizes 
 the beating of beds — the Tower guns — a i-unaway coal- 
 vaggon — the mail-coaches — and a chorus of coppersmiths. 
 
 A moderate applause, running about fourteen hands high, 
 succeeds. The musicians rub down their bald heads and 
 shining brows with their handkerchiefs ; and this is a modern 
 overture. Our remarks upon the music are suspended by the 
 rising of the green curtain ; and the stage discloses two 
 walking gentlemen, in feathers, preparing the foundation of 
 the play. They ai-e the pioneers of the plot, and have a 
 deal of rubbish to clear off before the piece can begin its 
 march. One of them is a military officer, and his sweet- 
 heart, it appeal's, has just been canied off by banditti. He 
 orders, of course, an immediate pursuit, but loses his start 
 by coming forward to sing two verses about love and a 
 soldier's duty ; — and as there is no time to be lost, the 
 audience encore the song.* The lady and the robbers might 
 get a good five miles ahead in the interval ; but you shall 
 see, in the next scene, that the rufiians forego all the 
 advantage, by stopping to dance with some holiday-making 
 villagers on the road. 
 
 Tlie captive lady quickly interests the youngest and hand- 
 somest of the countrymen, and they converse apart, uuinter- 
   Vide "The Last GueriUa."
 
 570 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 ruptedly, whilst the head robber is hob-nobbing with the 
 farmer's wife. She declares that she can sing the tale of her 
 woes, though she cannot speak ;* and the clown listens most 
 attentively, for he has heard hitherto only of females that 
 speak but cannot sing. In the meantime the militia come 
 up, so secretly that not one of the robbers discovers that he 
 is a prisoner till, on preparing for a dance d, la ronde, he feels 
 that the regulars have tied his legs.t While the felons are 
 disposed of, a young female, in a Hampshire Leghorn and a 
 short russet petticoat, trimmed with with sky blue, comes 
 ai\d dry-sobs over the stage lamps. She confesses that she is 
 jea^^ous of the attentions of her rustic lover to the lady in 
 chalis. The villagers crowd round. She appeals to the 
 daiiymaids and shepherdesses for a character, and they all 
 range at her side ; she dares the male rustics to say that 
 they have ever kissed even her ruddy little finger, and they 
 drop their heads to a man, as acknowledged victims of 
 rejected addresses, and hold up their hands.:}: She leaves off 
 crying, and sings, reproaching Lubin, to the tune of " Auld 
 lang syne," with his perfidy, and tears the marriage licence 
 before his face. The villagers look blue and brown, but the 
 lady in chains, learning the cause of the quarrel, comes for- 
 ward, and declares that Lubin can hope for no part in her 
 love, for her heart has long been bestowed on another. 
 The eyes of the bandit sparkle, but she places her hand in 
 the glove of the captain of infantiy. The bandit stamps his 
 boot firmly on, and cries. Hah ! He slaps his forehead — 
 thumps his chest, as if to try the soundness of his lungs 
 against a fit of raving — clutches his hair, and tries to turn 
 bis own head, and then to pull his own scalp off ; in the 
 
 * Vide last scene of "The Shepherd Boy." 
 
 + Vide the surprise scene in " The Last Guerilla." 
 
 1 " Broken Promises."
 
 .riPPENDIX. 571 
 
 meantime wriggling himself by a sort of toe and- heel work, 
 expressive of great agitation, to her side. He demands 
 fiercely if she has forgotten their former engagement, but 
 she replies that since he was outlawed, and dead, therefore, in 
 the eyes of the law, she had considered herself released from 
 the former vows.* The robber swallows the news the wrong 
 way, and chokes ; but at last, remembering that it is but a jilt 
 lost, leads her over to the King's captain. The officer and 
 the lady make a profound bow and curtesy to the male- 
 factor, thus turned benefoctor ; the wedding day is fixed on 
 the nail, and the romantic footpad is requested to give away 
 the bride. The rest of the gang are immediately released, 
 without the forms of a trial ; each takes the hand of a pretty 
 villager, they strike up first a dance and then a chorus ; — 
 and this, reader, is somewhat like the progress of a modern 
 play ! 
 
 TO MISS KELLY, 
 
 OF THE ENGLISH OPEUA HOUSE. 
 
 Kelly, two quiet hours agone, 
 
 Thy part was o'er, the play was done, 
 
 The tragic vision fled. 
 My lobster salad is discuss' d. 
 My wine and water mingled just, 
 
 And thou art in my head ! 
 
 Clifford is gone — for all the while, 
 And Baker's everlasting smile. 
 Is vanish'd from me quite, 
 
 • " The Last Guerilla."
 
 572 APPENDIX. 
 
 Like foolish portraits on a wall, 
 Sway'd by a curtain's rise or fall. 
 And not for aftef sight. 
 
 But thou, withoiit or with my will. 
 Thy ringing tones attend mo still, 
 
 And melancholy looks ; 
 Again I see, and echo these 
 Again, like golden passages 
 
 Gather'd from olden books. 
 
 Not apt to lend my faith to cheats, 
 
 Or look for honey in the sweets I 
 
 Of artificial flowers ; 
 Though critical and curst withall, 
 Though early mingled grief and gall, 
 
 I recognise thy powers. 
 
 Tears thou canst bring, where tears have sprung, 
 Oft, from an aching heart — not wrung 
 
 By griefs at second hand ; 
 And smiles, to lips that have not cmTd 
 Seldom at humours of a world 
 
 Most vigilantly scann'd. 
 
 .1 
 
 And years bring veiy chilly damps, 
 That dim the splendour of the lamps. 
 
 And shame the canvas skies ; t 
 
 The brightest scenes, I know not how, 
 Have changed — and Mrs. Grove is now 
 
 No fairy in my eyes.
 
 APPENDIX. 573 
 
 I cannot weep when lovers weep, 
 Nor throne a tyrant in my sleep, 
 
 Nor quake at tragic screams ; 
 The fond, the fervent faith is flown 
 Of boyhood ; and a play is grown 
 
 Tiess real than my dreams. 
 
 And yet when I confront thee, still 
 I qnite forget that sullen chill, 
 
 So perfect is thy art ; 
 Again the vision cheats my soul, 
 For why 1 Thou dost present a wholo 
 
 Where others play a part. 
 
 The saddest or the shrewdest flights 
 Of tragical or comic wights 
 
 Are ne'er put out of joint. 
 And things by feebler authors writ, 
 Are better'd by thy better wit, 
 
 And dullness finds a point. 
 
 A kind of verbal novelist. 
 
 Up and down life, thou dost enlist 
 
 All humours, high and low ; 
 That, dramatised, inform thy face 
 And voice, with every trick and trace 
 
 Of human whim and woe 1 
 
 The stage, it is thy element. 
 Wherein thy mind preserves its bent, 
 
 Thou dost not seek or scorn, 
 The critic's meed, the public praise, 
 . As if ordain'd to live in plays, — 
 
 Not actress made, but born !
 
 I 
 
 674 APPENDIX, ( 
 
 HOT WEATHER AT THE PLAY. 
 
 The present is scarcely weather for theatrical amusements. 
 WithQut a paradox, they are too much of a relaxation. It 
 is too warm for crowds of any kind ; and the heat fur- 
 nishes a quiet answer, at least as regards summer theatres, 
 to the recent proposal of a contemporaiy for having 
 plays performed about nooa The stage hour and the 
 fashionable dinner time might not clash quite so awkwardly, 
 but the peers and peeresses would have an objection to 
 cominsr in cool undress chintzes. In such a memorable 
 hot week as the present, when Atkinson has just killed a 
 brace of bears without any profit to the grease-pot, a 
 melodrama about lunch time must be a luxury ! Even 
 after seven, the atmosphere of an overflowing house is suf- 
 ficiently genial j glowing and steaming like the air of an 
 orangery, but without its fragrance. 
 
 Let us suppose ourselves in the dress circle, but wishin;;- 
 ourselves in any other sort of balcony. What a scene of 
 general relaxation ! The " perspiration of delight," to borrow 
 a phrase from the critic in the Chronicle, stands upon every 
 forehead ; handkerchiefs, as signals of distress, are flagging 
 with their owners in all directions ; curls, unwinding into 
 lankness like cotton balls ; and collars curling off from the 
 obnoxious glowing cheek, like the leaves of the American 
 sensitive plant. The thin pale gentleman at our right looks 
 cool, but he is only at a white heat, and his powder is going 
 off, for the very reason that it ought not to go off, — because 
 it is wet. That stout lady's visage in the left-hand box 
 might pass for Aurora's, — intensely rosy, — and a leash of 
 pearls— (are they not ?) — escaped, perhaps, from her tiai'a, 
 
 I 
 
 I
 
 APPENDIX. 575 
 
 are stealing down her brow. The whole front row, " witK 
 dreiidful faces thronged and fiery arms," according to the 
 tremendous hnes in Milton, is all in a flutter of fans. There 
 are but two cool persons in the house, — that sugar-baker, in 
 his great coat, in the pit, and the anchorsmith up in the 
 gallery. 
 
 A momentary relief ! The box-door opens, not at, but, in 
 our backs, and lets enter a current of air that cools us all on 
 one side, like a sole on a fishmonger's slab ; but the comfort- 
 able zephyr is soon smothered by the entrance of two stout 
 Lancashire agricultural gentlemen, w'ith the chill off. The 
 air warms up again ; the fumes of extra strong lavender 
 endeavour in vain to suppress the odour of the imconsumed 
 gas — that baneful vapour, which Sir Humphry Davy, insti- 
 gated by the complaints of a playgoer, recently inhaled, and 
 nearly died, as he had lived, for the interests of science. 
 After the noxious inflation, he was but just able to throw 
 himself, for a superficial grave, on his grass-plot ! Of the 
 unwholesomeness of coal smoke, as a drink, we have no doubt ; 
 but we think the simple glare of the lamps, with the tearing 
 tentan-are music of a modern opera, might have accounted 
 of themselves for the head-splitting symptoms of the 
 playgoer. 
 
 The curtain draws up, and the house is a trifle cooler. On 
 the stage there are coiTespondent tokens of a mild summer. 
 The performers are evidently distressed ; but, unlike other 
 distressed people, fight very shy of their handkerchiefs. 
 They use them gingerly like dusters ; the cunning red and 
 ■white on their cheeks being anything but "warranted fast 
 coloui-s." The ghost looks flushed in spite of his flour ; the 
 Siberian exile indulges in nankeens, and Kosina shows as 
 dishevelled as Ophelia. The tyrant that came in a lion goes 
 out like a lamb ; and arms and legs, just before passionately
 
 576 APPENDIX. 
 
 energetic, fall suddenly tame and ridiculously listless before 
 they are well clear of the side-scene. lu some instancea 
 the heat works an improvement The lauguishings of affec- 
 tation for once seem natural, and a pair of carmine cheek 
 bones, as if only coloured after nature and the French apples. 
 Liston looks admirably lax and oily, in keeping with the 
 season ; Mr. Bartley, who inclines to overact himself — a 
 failing that leans to virtue's side on the stage — plays always 
 the better for hot weather ; and the lady who used about 
 Christmas to volunteer an encore, is content to come only 
 
 when she is well called, and to sing if she must. 
 ***** 
 
 Theatrical matters, to speak in the language of the price- 
 current, continue in a dull state. The few people in town 
 who have ears have been attracted during the last week to 
 Mr. Arnold's, by the translation of an opei-a of Winter s, 
 which is said to have been popular on the Continent. It 
 sounds oddly, for Winter's music to be heard in a summer 
 theatre ; and no less so, that translations of foreign pieces 
 should he called " English Operas," the presumed staple of 
 the house in the Strand. We always supposed it was a 
 foundation for the encouragement of native compositions ; 
 but the production of Tarrare, Der Frieschutz, and the Inter- 
 rupted Sacrifice, have corrected that delusion. Far is it from 
 our hearts to be ungrateful to the importer of Weber and 
 Winter ; it is not his fault, doubtless, that our operas must 
 be born abroad ; but we must lament over the fact. It 
 used to seem to us not quite Utopian, that we might grow a 
 real indigenous opera — if not quite new, and of the same 
 composer, at least out of our stock melodies and old airs in 
 bottle — short and sweet snatches of song, like those in the 
 Beggar's Opera ; and that it might run a race of favour with 
 any of its cousins-german, and be half as popular as Gay's.
 
 APPENDIX. 677 
 
 We have an objection to the divorce of music from its 
 husband tongue, the language of its fatherland. It becomes 
 broken music, as we say of broken English. It discourses 
 with difficulty and doubt. The words and sounds have, 
 before translation, a natural agreement, like the features of 
 a face, but which is disfigured inevitably when A and B 
 exchange noses. We are more averse still to serious 
 opera, which is generally a bad melodrama made tedious 
 with music — neither a concert nor a play ; or a concert in- 
 terrupted by a lord mayor's procession in the street — a com- 
 pound interest that, in spite of Cocker, is of less value than 
 either of the simple ones. Finally, we have an invincible 
 dislike, on or off the stage, to all Peruvian loans, feather 
 capes, bows and arrows, and red-bosomed savages, like brick- 
 makers gone outlandish — one and the last of our objections 
 to the new opera. The music is generally replete with 
 beauty, but of a delicacy that will not make it so popular as 
 the Freischutz about the smaller streets. 
 
 HINTS TO PAUL PRY 
 
 Oh, pleasing, teasing, Mr. Pry, 
 
 Dear Paul — but not Virginia's Paul, 
 
 As some might haply deem, to spy 
 The umbrella thou art arm'd withal, 
 
 Cool hat, and ample pantaloons, 
 
 Proper for hot and tropic noons ; — 
 
 Oh no ! for thou wert never bom 
 
 To watch the barren sea and cloud 
 
 In any desert isle forlorn — 
 VOL. X. 87
 
 578- APPENDIX. 
 
 Thy home is always in a crowd 
 Drawn nightly, sncli is thy stage luck, 
 By Liston — that dramatic Buck, 
 
 True as the evening's primrose flower. 
 True as the watchman to his beat, 
 
 Thou dost attend upon the hour 
 
 And house, in old Haymarket Street. 
 
 Oh, surely thou art much miscall' d, 
 
 Still Paul — yet we are never pall'd ! 
 
 Friend of the keyhole and the crack, 
 That lets thee pry within and pore, 
 
 Thy very nose betrays the knack — 
 
 Upturn'd through kissing with the door 
 
 A peeping trick that each dear friend 
 
 Sends thee to Coventry, to mend ! 
 
 Thy bended body shows thy bent. 
 Inclined to news in every place ; 
 
 Thy gossip mouth and eyes intent. 
 Stand each a query in thy face ; 
 
 Thy hat a curious hat appears. 
 
 Pricking its brims up like thy ears ; 
 
 Thy pace, it is an ambling trot, 
 
 To post thee sooner here and there, 
 
 To every house where thou shouldst not ^ 
 In gait, in garb, in face, and air, 
 
 The true eavesdi'opper we perceive, 
 
 Not merely dropping in at eve, — 
 
 But morn and noon, through all the span 
 
 Of day, — to disconcert and fret, 
 Unwelcome guest to every man.
 
 APPENDIX. 579 
 
 A kind of dun, without a debt, 
 Well cxirsed by porter iu the hall, 
 For calling when there is no call. 
 
 Ilarm-watching, harm thou still dost catch — • 
 That rule should save thee many a sore ; 
 
 But watch thou wilt, and, like a watch, 
 A box attends thee at the door — - 
 
 The household menials e'en begin 
 
 To show thee out ere thou art in i 
 
 Old Grasp regards thee with a frown, 
 
 Old Hardy marks thee for a shot, 
 Young Stanley longs to knock thee down. 
 
 A.nd Subtle mourns her ruin'd plot, 
 And bans thy bones — alas ! for why ! 
 A tender curiosity ! 
 
 Oh leave the Hardys to themselves — 
 
 Leave Mrs. Subtle to her dreams — 
 'Tis true that they were laid on shelves — 
 
 Leave Stanley, junior, to his schemes , 
 More things there are, the public sigh 
 To know the rights of, Mr. Pry ! 
 
 There's Lady L the late Miss P , 
 
 Miss P and lady both were late. 
 
 And two in ten can scarce agree, 
 
 For why the title had to wait ; 
 But thou mightst learn from her own lips 
 What wind detain'd the lady-ship 1 
 
 Or Mr. P ! — the sire that nursed 
 
 Thy youth, and made thee what thou art. 
 Who form'd thy prying genius first —
 
 580 APPENDIX. 
 
 (Thou wottest his untender part), 
 'Twould be a friendly call and fit, 
 To know " how soon he hopes to sit." 
 
 Some people long to know the truth 
 Whether Miss T. does mean to try 
 
 For Gibbon once again — in sooth. 
 
 Thou mightst indulge them, Mr. P17 ; 
 
 A verbal extract from the brief 
 
 Would give some spinsters great relief 1 
 
 Suppose, dear Pry, thou wert to dodge 
 The porter's glance, and just drop in 
 
 At Windsor's shy sequester'd lodge, 
 (Thou wilt, if any man can win 
 
 His way so far)— and kindly bring 
 
 Poor Cob's petition to the king. 
 
 There's Mrs. Coutts — ^hath she outgrown 
 
 The compass of a prying eye 1 
 And, ah ! there is the Great Unknown. 
 
 A man that makes the curious sigh ; 
 'Twere worthy of your genius quite 
 To bring that lurking man to light. 
 
 0, come abroad, with curious hat. 
 And patch' d umbrella, curious too — 
 
 To poke with this, and pry with that — 
 
 Search all our scandal through and through, 
 
 And treat the whole world like a pio 
 
 Made for thy finger, Mr. Pry !
 
 APPENDIX. 581 
 
 I HAVE now completed my task. It has been no easy 
 one, but I have found a great pleasure and pride in its 
 accomplishment. Numerous letters from various quarters 
 have convinced me that my labours have been appreciated. 
 From them I feel some satisfaction in learning that my 
 comprehensive reproduction of all my father's writings, how- 
 ever slight, is rather widely approved. I intended this 
 edition for those students and lovers of my father's writings, 
 to whom everything he published would have some interest. 
 For the general reader, as I stated at the very outset, there 
 are the volumes of serious poems, those of wit and humour, 
 and the two series of Hood's Own. 
 
 I am not, however, at all disinclined to bow to the 
 decision of those friendly critics, who decide that I have not 
 learned "the art to blot." I did not expect to escape 
 censure altogether, and I had rather be blamed for reprint- 
 ing too much than too little. My belief is that my father's 
 fame is too well established to be injiu-ed by the reprinting 
 (granting it, for the argument, injudicious reprinting) of 
 some of liis more ephemeral writings. On the other hand, I 
 should be very sorry if any admirer of his works could point 
 to this edition, and mention some favomite bit, however 
 unimportant, as " conspicuous for its absence." 
 
 My own conviction, and an honest one, is that I have 
 done best in not blotting. But at the same time I am 
 ready to believe that my convictions may be wrong. It 
 would be ungracious in me to quarrel with criticism so 
 friendly expressed and so candidly given. 
 
 Throughout the whole course of the work I have on all 
 sides received advice, information, and assistance, for which I 
 can only return my most sincere thanks here to all col- 
 lectively. To attempt to enumerate those to whom I am 
 indebted would entail a list sufficiently long to wan-ant some
 
 582 
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 of my less friendly critics in calling it " book-making," aftei 
 their genial wont. As my conscience most clearly absolves 
 me of that charge hitherto, I cannot allow even my most 
 sincere gratitude for many kind acts to lead me astray 
 here. 
 
 My experience since the commencement of the series 
 assures me that there will be many alterations — possibly 
 additions — to be made in this collection hereafter. I shall 
 feel much obliged to any of my readers who will point such 
 out to me. It is my earnest hope to leave behind me a 
 perfect edition of my father's works, for the study, tho 
 delight, and the benefit of a public, which if?. I think, daily 
 becoming better acquainted with his writmgs.
 
 68a 
 
 [ITie following stanzas have a peculiar interest as the last poeni- 
 iudeed, the last literary work of any sort — written by my father.] 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 Farewell, Life ! My senses swim ; 
 And the world is growing dim ; 
 Thronging shadows cloud the light, 
 Like the advent of the night, — 
 Colder, colder, colder still 
 Upward steals a vapour chill — 
 Strong the earthy odour grows — 
 I smell the Mould above the Hose ! 
 
 Welcome, Life ! the Spirit strives ! 
 Strength returns, and hope revives ; 
 Cloudy fears and shapes forlorn 
 Fly like shadows at the morn, — 
 O'er the earth there comes a bloom — 
 Sunny light for sullen gloom, 
 Warm perfume for vapour cold — 
 T smell the Rose above the Mould I 
 
 THE Bm>. 
 
 1-19-56 D-7-82.
 
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