The Works of Thomas Hood; Vol. 01 (of 11) Comic and Serious, in Prose and Verse, With All the Original Illustrations — Themes and Context

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In Category - Adventure Picaresque Fiction

Authors: Hood, Thomas, 1799-1845, Broderip, Frances Freeling, 1830-1878 [Editor], Hood, Tom, 1835-1874 [Editor] Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2019 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: English wit and humor; Humorous poetry, English; English poetry -- 19th century Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 115,112

Reading time 501 min

Text sections 107

For The Works of Thomas Hood; Vol. 01 (of 11) Comic and Serious, in Prose and Verse, With All the Original Illustrations — Themes and Context, the stored edition analysis reports 115,112 words, 8 hr 21 min estimated reading time, and 107 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 22.8 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “English wit and humor,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #59269

Thomas Hood's first volume of collected works, edited by his children, opens with a preface defending his plain English style and includes early apprentice letters and a satirical comparison of English and Jamaican apprenticeships.

Editorial Edition Score 4.9/5

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Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

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File: pg59269

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ly set down the trunk which she had again taken up, and restored the deceitful medal to her pocket. In the meantime the arithmetical usher had arrived at the gate in his way out, but was stopped by the embargo on the luggage. “What’s the matter now?” asked the man of figures.

“If you please, Sir,” said the housemaid, dropping a low courtesy, “it’s this impudent fellow of a coachman will stand here for his rights.”

“He wants a shilling more than his fare,” said Mr. Barber.

“He does want more than his fare shilling,” reiterated the Frenchman.

“Coachman! what the devil are we waiting here for?” shouted a stentorian voice from the rear of the stage.

“Bless me, John, are we to stay here all day?” cried a shrill voice from the stage’s interior.

“If you don’t get up shortly I shall get down,” bellowed a voice from the box.

At this crisis the English usher drew his fellow-tutor aside, and whispered something in his ear that made him go through the old manual exercise. He slapped his pantaloons--flapped his coat tails--and felt about his bosom--“I haven’t got one,” said he, and with a shake of the head and a hurried bow, he set off at the pace of a twopenny postman.

“I a’n’t going to stand here all day,” said the coachman, getting out of all reasonable patience.

“You’re an infernal scoundrelly villain,” said Mr. Barber, getting out of all classical English.

“You are a--what Mr. Barber says,” said the Foreigner.

“Thank God and his goodness,” ejaculated the housemaid, “here comes the Doctor;” and the portly figure of the pedagogue himself came striding pompously down the gravel-walk. He had two thick lips and a double chin, which all began wagging together.

“Well, well; what’s all this argumentative elocution? I command taciturnity!”

“I’m a shilling short,” said the coachman.

“He says he has got one short shilling,” said the Foreigner.

“Poo--poo--poo,” said the thick-lips and double-chin. “Pay the fellow his superfluous claim, and appeal to magisterial authority.”

“It’s what we mean to do, Sir,” said the English usher, “but”--and he laid his lips mysteriously to the Doctor’s ear.

“A pecuniary bagatelle,” said the Doctor. “It’s palpable extortion,--but I’ll disburse it,--and you have a legislatorial remedy for his avaricious demands.” As the man of pomp said this, he thrust his fore finger into an empty waistcoat-pocket--then into its fellow--and then into every pocket he had--but without any other product than a bunch of keys, two ginger lozenges, and the French mark.

“It’s very peculiar,” said the Doctor. “I had a prepossession of having currency to that amount. The coachman must call to-morrow for it at Vespasian House--or stay--I perceive my housekeeper. Mrs. Plummer! pray just step hither and liquidate this little commercial obligation.”

Now, whether Mrs. Plummer had or had not a shilling, Mrs. Plummer only knows; for she did not condescend to make any search for it,--and if she had none, she was right not to take the trouble. However, she attempted to carry the point by a _coup de main_. Snatching up one of the boxes, she motioned the housemaid to do the like, exclaiming in a shrill treble key,--“Here’s a pretty work indeed, about a paltry shilling! If it’s worth having, it’s worth calling again for,--and I suppose Vespasian House is not going to run away!”

“But may be I am,” said the inflexible coachman, seizing a trunk with each hand.

“John, I insist on being let out,” screamed the lady in the coach. “I shall be too late for dinner,” roared the Thunderer in the dickey. As for the passenger on the box, he had made off during the latter part of the altercation.

“What shall we do?” said the English Classical Usher.

“God and his goodness only knows!” said the housemaid.

“I am a stranger in this country,” said the Frenchman.

“You must pay the money,” said the coachman.

“And here it is, you brute,” said Mrs. Plummer, who had made a trip to the house in the meantime; but whether she had coined it, or raised it by a subscription among the pupils, I know no more than

“Well said, old Mole! canst work i’ the dark so fast? a worthy pioneer!”--HAMLET.

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The preface by Hood's son and daughter, written more than half a century after his first verses, argues that his enduring popularity stems from his use of “pure, vigorous, intelligible English.” They contrast his clarity with the obscurity of other writers, citing the “Song of the Shirt” as an example where homely phrases intensify suffering. This editorial note frames the volume as an attempt to reach all classes of readers through a cheap periodical edition.

The first substantial excerpt presents two “genuine” letters from an apprentice named Richard Ruggles to his mother, complaining of harsh treatment by his master, an architect. The letters are followed by a narrator who compares this English apprenticeship to a negro apprenticeship in Jamaica, introducing a black apprentice named Sambo. This juxtaposition sets up a satirical examination of labor and freedom.

Apprentice Letters as Social Document

The opening letters from Richard Ruggles to his mother are presented as authentic documents, with the narrator claiming they are a “fair sample of the practice in England.” Richard’s complaints are detailed and specific: he works “drawing, drawing, drawing, as long as it’s light,” sleeps in a back garret on a hard flock bed, and is snubbed at table. He suspects his master knows nothing of architecture and only takes premiums. The letters are written in a colloquial, indignant tone, with Richard even using a dash and an expletive (“I’m d—d up at night”). The narrator treats these letters as evidence, not fiction, and uses them to launch a comparison with colonial apprenticeship.

The Jamaican Counterpart

The narrator visits Colonel C., who has brought a black apprentice from Jamaica named Sambo. Sambo is described as a “stout good-humoured African” with “rather more than the twilight intelligence allowed to the race by the late Monk Lewis.” The narrator interviews Sambo, whose testimony is “divested of his outlandish jargon.” Sambo claims he was an independent black prince and heir-apparent to the king of the Eboes, taken at unawares. He could not read or write and never applied for an apprenticeship. This section sets up a direct contrast between the voluntary (if regretted) English apprenticeship and the forced colonial one, though the narrator’s framing relies on racial stereotypes of the period.

Hood’s Editorial Voice

Throughout the excerpts, Hood’s editorial presence is strong. He introduces the letters with a wry comment on “the duplicity of the world in general, and of architects in particular.” He then steps back to let the documents speak, but returns to compare the two systems. His tone is ironic and reform-minded, but he does not explicitly condemn either system. Instead, he presents the evidence and allows the reader to draw conclusions. The preface by his children reinforces this: they praise his ability to speak to “the great mass of the people” without obscurity. This editorial voice—part satirist, part social commentator—is a key feature of the volume.

Structure and Genre Blending

The volume mixes prose and verse, comic and serious. The excerpts show a blend of genres: a preface, personal letters, and a quasi-journalistic interview. The letters are presented as genuine, but their inclusion in a literary work suggests they may be embellished or invented. The narrator’s visit to Colonel C. and the interview with Sambo read like a sketch or essay. This hybrid form—part documentary, part satire—is typical of Hood’s work. Readers should expect shifts in tone and form, from the heartfelt complaint of Richard to the ironic comparison of apprenticeships. The volume’s structure rewards attention to how Hood juxtaposes different voices and documents.

As you read this first volume, pay attention to how Hood uses documents—letters, interviews, and prefaces—to build his arguments. The excerpts suggest a writer who is both entertainer and social critic, blending humor with indignation. The editorial notes by his children provide a frame, but the works themselves reveal a more complex voice. Approach the volume as a collection of experiments in form and tone, rather than a unified narrative.

That rainy afternoon, I kept returning to Hood’s preface, his stubborn defense of plain words. It felt like sitting with someone who hated fuss. Later, idly, I picked up The works of the Reverend George Whitefield, M.A., Vol. 5 (of 6) — Key Ideas to Explore. Odd pairing, yet both men wrestled with what language could truly carry — sincerity, or its absence. I closed the second book quietly, thinking of voices that refuse ornament.