Thomas Hood and Charles Lamb ( Benn, lOs. 6d. )
make a delightful pair. Mr. Walter Jerrold has a reason for thus coupling their names. The greater part of the book consists of Wood's " Reminiscences," and he remembers many things of Elia. Hood's character is a very lovable one. Always ill, he was as cheerful as R. L. Stevenson, but his cheerfulness is more restful, seeming as it does to come of content rather than courage. (Mrs. Hood was what is now called " a dear," as serene as she was devoted,) Like Stevenson, Hood could command laughter and tears, but his humour has not worn so well as Stevenson's is wearing. A few punning rhymes have passed into the language, but paragraphs of puns have ceased to please. Most people do not know that Hood was an artist, an etcher, according to Lamb, of no mean ability, indeed, ." a little Hogarth." He himself was very humble about all his accomplishments, but he said he could draw as well as write, and that it was only by accident " that the hand now tracing these reminiscences is holding a pen instead of an etching point." For our own part, we love Hood best when he is least amusing, when, with the candour of the true man of letters, he lets us come for a moment into his innermost heart, where he keeps his philosophy of life, and of love, his portraits of Charles Lamb and of the little girl who died.
* *
Previous page
