The Works of Thomas Hood; Vol. 01 (of 11): Comic and Serious, in Prose and Verse, With All the Original IllustrationsHood, Thomas
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The Works of Thomas Hood; Vol. 01 (of 11): Comic and Serious, in Prose and Verse, With All the Original Illustrations
Hood, Thomas
English poetry -- 19th century; English wit and humor; Humorous poetry, English
For my own part, were I to revisit such a haunt of my youth, it
would give me the greatest pleasure, out of mere regard to the
rising generation, to find Prospect House turned into a Floor Cloth
Manufactory, and the playground converted to a bleachfield. The
tabatière is out of the question. In the way of learning, I carried off
nothing in exchange for my knife and fork, and spoon, but a prize for
Latin without knowing the Latin for prize, and a belief which I had
afterwards to unbelieve again, that a block of marble could be cut in
two with a razor.
To be classical, as Ducrow would say, the Athenians, the day before
the Festival of Theseus, their Founder, gratefully sacrificed a ram,
in memory of Corridas the schoolmaster, who had been his instructor:
but in the present day, were such offerings in fashion, how frequently
would the appropriate animal be a donkey, and especially too big a
donkey to get over the Pons Asinorum!
From the preparatory school, I was transplanted in due time to what is
called by courtesy, a finishing one, where I was immediately set to
begin everything again at the beginning. As this was but a backward way
of coming forward, there seemed little chance of my ever becoming what
Mrs. Malaprop calls “a progeny of learning;” indeed my education was
pursued very much after the plan laid down by that feminine authority.
I had nothing to do with Hebrew, or Algebra, or Simony, or Fluxions, or
Paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches; but I obtained a supercilious
knowledge of accounts, with enough of geometry to make me acquainted
with the contagious countries. Moreover, I became fluent enough in
some unknown tongue to protect me from the French Mark; and I was
sufficiently at home (during the vacations) in the quibbles of English
grammar, to bore all my parents, relations, friends, and acquaintance,
by a pedantical mending of their “cakeology.” Such was the sum total
of my acquirements; being, probably, quite as much as I should have
learned at a Charity School, with the exception of the parochial
accomplishment of hallooing and singing of anthems.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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