The father of Thomas Hood was engaged in business as a publisher and bookseller in the Poultry5, in the city of London — a member of the firm of Vernor, Hood, and Sharpe. He was a Scotchman, and had come up to the capital early in life, to make his way. His interest in books was not solely6 confined to their saleable quality. He reprinted various old works with success; published Bloomfield’s poems, and dealt handsomely with him; and was himself the author of two novels, which are stated to have had some success in their day. For the sake of the son rather than the father, one would like to see some account, with adequate specimens7, of these long-forgotten tales; for the queries8 which Thomas Hood asks concerning the piteous woman of his Bridge of Sighs interest us all concerning a man of genius, and interest us moreover with regard to the question of intellectual as well as natural affinity9:—
“Who was his father,
Who was his mother?
Had he a sister,
Had he a brother?”
Another line of work in which the elder Hood is recorded to have been active was the opening of the English book-trade with America. He married a sister of the engraver10 Mr. Sands, and had by her a large family; two sons and four daughters survived the period of childhood. The elder brother, James, who died early of consumption, drew well, as did also one or two of the sisters. It would seem therefore, when we recall Thomas Hood’s aptitudes11 and frequent miscellaneous practice in the same line, that a certain tendency towards fine art, as well as towards literature, ran in the family. The consumption which killed James appears to have been inherited from his mother; she, and two of her daughters, died of the same disease; and a pulmonary affection of a somewhat different kind became, as we shall see, one of the poet’s most inveterate13 persecutors. The death of the father, which was sudden and unexpected, preceded that of the mother, but not of James, and left the survivors14 in rather straitened circumstances.
Thomas, the second of the two sons, was born in the Poultry, on or about the 23d of May, 1799. He is stated to have been a retired16 child, with much quiet humor; chuckling17, we may guess, over his own quaint18 imaginings, which must have come in crowds, and of all conceivable or inconceivable sorts, to judge from the products of his after years; keeping most of these fancies and surprises to himself, but every now and then letting some of them out, and giving homely19 or stolid20 bystanders an inkling of insight into the many-peopled crannies of his boyish brain. He received his education at Dr. Wanostrocht’s school at Clapham. It is not very clear how far this education extended:? I should infer that it was just about enough, and not more than enough, to enable Hood to shift for himself in the career of authorship, without serious disadvantage from inadequate21 early training, and also without much aid thence derived22 — without, at any rate, any such rousing and refining of the literary sense as would warrant us in attributing to educational influences either the inclination23 to become an author, or the manipulative power over language and style which Hood displayed in his serious poems, not to speak of those of a lighter24 kind. We seem to see him sliding, as it were, into the profession of letters, simply through capacity and liking25, and the course of events — not because he had resolutely26 made up his mind to be an author, nor because his natural faculty27 had been steadily28 or studiously cultivated. As to details, it may be remarked that his schooling29 included some amount — perhaps a fair average amount — of Latin. We find it stated that he had a Latin prize at school, but was not apt at the language in later years. He had however one kind of aptitude12 at it — being addicted30 to the use of familiar Latin quotations31 or phrases, cited with humorous verbal perversions32.
In all the relations of family life, and the forms of family affection, Hood was simply exemplary. The deaths of his elder brother and of his father left him the principal reliance of his mother, herself destined33 soon to follow them to the tomb: he was an excellent and devoted34 son. His affection for one of his sisters, Anne, who also died shortly afterwards, is attested35 in the beautiful lines named The Deathbed —
“We watched her breathing through the night.”
At a later date, the loves of a husband and a father seem to have absorbed by far the greater part of his nature and his thoughts: his letters to friends are steeped and drenched36 In “Jane,” “Fanny,” and “Tom junior.” These letters are mostly divided between perpetual family details and perennial37 jocularity: a succession of witticisms38, or at lowest of puns and whimsicalities, mounts up like so many squibs and crackers40, fizzing through, sparkling amid, or ultimately extinguished by, the inevitable41 shower — the steady rush and downpour — of the home-affections. It may easily be inferred from this account that there are letters which one is inclined to read more thoroughly42, and in greater number consecutively43, than Hood’s.
The vocation44 first selected for Hood, towards the age of fifteen, was one which he did not follow up for long — that of an engraver. He was apprenticed45 to his uncle Mr. Sands, and afterwards to one of the Le Keux family. The occupation was ill-suited to his constantly ailing46 health, and this eventually conduced to his abandoning it. He then went to Scotland to recruit, remaining there among his relatives about five years.? According to a statement made by himself, he was in a merchant’s office within this interval47; it is uncertain, however, whether this assertion is to be accepted as genuine, or as made for some purpose of fun. His first published writing appeared in the Dundee Advertiser in 1814 — his age being then, at the utmost, fifteen and a half; this was succeeded by some contribution to a local magazine. But as yet he had no idea of authorship as a profession.
Towards the middle of the year 1820, Hood was re-settled in London, improved in health, and just come of age. At first he continued practising as an engraver; but in 1821 he began to act as a sort of sub-editor for the London Magazine after the death of the editor, Mr. Scott, in a duel48. He concocted49 fictitious50 and humorous answers to correspondents — a humble51 yet appropriate introduction to the insatiable habit and faculty for out-of-the-way verbal jocosity52 which marked-off his after career from that of all other excellent poets.
His first regular contribution to the magazine, in July, 1821, was a little poem To Hope: even before this, as early at any rate as 1815, he was in the frequent practice of writing correctly and at some length in verse, as witnessed by selections, now in print, from what he had composed for the amusement of his relatives. Soon afterwards, a private literary society was the recipient53 of other verses of the same order. The lines To Hope were followed, in the London Magazine, by the Ode to Dr. Kitchener and some further poems, including the important work, Lycus the Centaur— after the publication of which, there could not be much doubt of the genuine and uncommon54 powers of the new writer. The last contribution of Hood to this magazine was the Lines to a Cold Beauty. Another early work of his, and one which, like the verses To the Moon, affords marked evidence of the impression which he had received from Keats’s poetry, is the unfinished drama (or, as he termed it, “romance”) of Lamia: I do not find its precise date recorded. Its verse is lax, and its tone somewhat immature55; yet it shows a great deal of sparkling and diversified56 talent. Hood certainly takes a rather more rational view than Keats did of his subject as a moral invention, or a myth having some sort of meaning at its root. A serpent transformed into a woman, who beguiles57 a youth of the highest hopes into amorous58 languid self-abandonment, is clearly not, in morals, the sort of person that ought to be left uncontrolled to her own devices. Keats ostentatiously resents the action of the unimpassioned philosopher Appollonius in revealing the true nature of the woman-serpent, and dissolving her spell. An elderly pedant59 to interfere60 with the pretty whims39 of a viper61 when she wears the outer semblance62 of a fine woman! Intolerable!
(Such is the sentiment of Keats; but such plainly is not altogether the conviction of Hood, although his story remains63 but partially64 developed.)
By this time it may have become pretty clear to himself and others that his proper vocation and destined profession was literature. Through the London Magazine, he got to know John Hamilton Reynolds (author of the Garden of Florence and other poems, and a contributor to this serial65 under the pseudonym66 of Edward Herbert), Charles Lamb, Allan Cunningham, De Quincey, and other writers of reputation. To Hood the most directly important of all these acquaintances was Mr. Reynolds; this gentleman having a sister, Jane, to whom Hood was introduced. An attachment67 ensued, and shortly terminated in marriage, the wedding taking place on the 5th of May, 1824. The father of Miss Reynolds was the head writing-master at Christ Hospital. She is stated to have had good manners, a cultivated mind, and literary tastes, though a high educational standard is not always traceable in her letters. At any rate the marriage was a happy one; Mrs. Hood being a tender and attentive68 wife, unwearied in the cares which her husband’s precarious69 health demanded, and he being (as I have said) a mirror of marital70 constancy and devotion, distinguishable from a lover rather by his intense delight in all domestic relations and details than by any cooling-down in his fondness. It would appear that, in the later years of Hood’s life, he was not on entirely71 good terms with some members of his wife’s family, including his old friend John Hamilton Reynolds. What may have caused this I do not find specified72: all that we know of the character of Hood justifies73 us in thinking that he was little or not at all to blame, for he appears throughout a man of just, honorable, and loving nature, and free besides from that sort of self-assertion which invites a collision. Every one, however, has his blemishes74; and we may perhaps discern in Hood a certain over-readiness to think himself imposed upon, and the fellow-creatures with whom he had immediately to do a generation of vipers76 — a state of feeling not characteristic of a mind exalted77 and magnanimous by habit, or “gentle” in the older and more significant meaning of the term.
The time was now come for Hood to venture a volume upon the world. Conjointly with Reynolds, he wrote, and published in 1825, his Odes and Addresses to Great People. The title-page bore no author’s name; but the extraordinary talent and point of the work could hardly fail to be noticed, even apart from its appeal to immediate75 popularity, dealing78 as it did so continually with the uppermost topics of the day. It had what it deserved, a great success. This volume was followed, in 1826, by the first series of Whims and Oddities, which also met with a good sale; the second series appeared in 1827. Next came two volumes of National Tales, somewhat after the manner of Boccaccio (but how far different from his spirit may easily be surmised), which are now little known. The volume containing the Plea of the Midsummer Fairies, Hero and Leander, and some other of Hood’s most finished and noticeable poems, came out in 1827. The Midsummer Fairies itself was one of the authors own favorite works, and certainly deserved to be so, as far as dainty elegance79 of motive80 and of execution is concerned: but the conception was a little too ingeniously remote for the public to ratify81 the author’s predilection82. The Hero and Leander will be at once recognized as modelled on the style of Elizabethan narrative83 poems: indeed Marlow treated the very same subject, and his poem, left uncompleted, was finished by Chapman. Hood’s is a most astonishing example of revivalist poetry: it is reproductive and spontaneous at the same time. It resembles its models closely, not servilely — significantly, not mechanically; and has the great merit of resembling them with comparative moderation. Elizabethan here both in spirit and in letter, Hood is nevertheless a little less extreme than his prototypes. Where they loaded, he does not find it needful to overload84, which is the ready and almost the inevitable resource of revivalists, all but the fewest: on the contrary, he alleviates85 a little — but only a little.
In 1829 appeared the most famous of all his poems of a narrative character —The Dream of Eugene Aram; it was published in the Gem86, an annual which the poet was then editing. Besides this amount of literary activity, Hood continued writing in periodicals, sometimes under the signature of “Theodore M.”
His excessive and immeasurable addiction87 to rollicking fun, to the perpetual “cracking of jokes” (for it amounts to that more definitely than to anything else in the domain88 of the Comic Muse), is a somewhat curious problem, taken in connection with his remarkable89 genius and accomplishment90 as a poet, and his personal character as a solid housekeeping citizen, bent91 chiefly upon rearing his family in respectability, and paying his way, or, as the Church Catechism has neatly92 and unimprovably expressed it, upon “doing his duty in that state of life to which it had pleased God to call him.” His almost constant ill-health, and, in a minor93 degree, the troubles which beset94 him in money-matters, make the problem all the more noticeable. The influence of Charles Lamb may have had something to do with it — probably not very much. Perhaps there was something in the literary atmosphere or the national tone of the time which gave comicality a turn of predominance after the subsiding95 of the great poetic96 wave which filled the last years of the eighteenth and the first quarter of the nineteenth century in our country, in Blake, Burns, Wordsworth, Scott, Coleridge, Landor, Byron, Keats, and, supreme97 among all, Shelley. Something of the same transition may be noticed in the art of design; the multifarious illustrator in the prior generation is Stothard — in the later, Cruikshank. At any rate, in literature, Lamb, Hood, and then Dickens in his earliest works, the Sketches98 by Boz and Pickwick, are uncommonly99 characteristic and leading minds, and bent, with singular inveteracy100, upon being “funny,”— though not funny and nothing else at all. But we should not force this consideration too far: Hood is a central figure in the group and the period, and the tendency of the time may be almost as much due to him as he to the tendency. Mainly, we have to fall back upon his own idiosyncrasy: he was born with a boundlessly101 whimsical perception, which he trained into an inimitable sleight-of-hand in the twisting of notions and of words; circumstances favored his writing for fugitive102 publications and skimming readers, rather than under conditions of greater permanency; and the result is as we find it in his works. His son expresses the opinion that part of Hood’s success in comic writing arose from his early reading of Humphrey Clinker, Tristram Shandy, Tom Jones, and other works of that period, and imbuing103 himself with their style: a remark, however, which applies to his prose rather than his poetical104 works. Certain it is that the appetite for all kinds of fun, verbal and other was a part of Hood’s nature. We see it in the practical jokes he was continually playing on his good-humored wife — such as altering into grotesque105 absurdity106 many of the words contained in her letters to friends: we see it — the mere107 animal love of jocularity, as it might be termed — in such a small point as his frequently addressing his friend Philip de Franck, in letters, by the words, “Tim, says he,” instead of any human appellative? Hood reminds us very much of one of Shakespeare’s Fools (to use the word in no invidious sense) transported into the nineteenth century — the Fool in King Lear, or Touchstone. For the occasional sallies of coarseness or ribaldry, the spirit of the time has substituted a bourgeois108 good-humor which respects the family circle, and haunts the kitchen-stairs; for the biting jeer109, intended to make some victim uncomfortable, it gives the sarcastic110 or sprightly111 banter112, not unconscious of an effort at moral amelioration; for the sententious sagacity, and humorous enjoyment113 of the nature of man, it gives bright thoughts and a humanitarian114 sympathy. But, on the whole, the intellectual personality is nearly the same: seeking by natural affinity, and enjoying to the uttermost, whatever tends to lightness of heart and to ridicule115 — thus dwelling116 indeed in the region of the commonplace and the gross, but constantly informing it with some suggestion of poetry, somewise side-meaning, or some form of sweetness and grace. These observations relate of course to Hood’s humorous poems: into his grave and pathetic poems he can import qualities still loftier than these — though even here it is not often that he utterly117 forswears quaintness118 and oddity. The risible119, the fantastic, was his beacon-light; sometimes as delicate as a dell of glow-worms; sometimes as uproarious as a bonfire; sometimes, it must be said (for he had to be perpetually writing whether the inspiration came or not, or his inspiration was too liable to come from the very platitudes120 and pettinesses of everyday life), not much more brilliant than a rush-light, and hardly more aromatic121 than the snuff of a tallow candle.
We must now glance again at Hood’s domestic affairs. His first child had no mundane122 existence worth calling such; but has nevertheless lived longer than most human beings in the lines which Lamb wrote for the occasion, On an Infant dying as soon as born. A daughter followed, and in 1830 was born his son, the Tom Hood who became editor of the comic journal Fun, and died in 1874. At the time of his birth, the family was living at Winchmore Hill: thence they removed about 1832, to the Lake House, Wanstead, a highly picturesque123 dwelling, but scanty124 in domestic comforts. The first of the Comic Annual series was brought out at Christmas, 1830. In the following couple of years, Hood did some theatrical125 work; writing the libretto126 for an English opera which (it is believed) was performed at the Surrey Theatre. Its name is now unknown, but it had a good run in its day; a similar fate has befallen an entertainment which he wrote for Mathews. He also composed a pantomime for the Adelphi; and, along with Reynolds, dramatized Gil Blas. This play is understood to have been acted at Drury Lane. The novel of Tylney Hall, and the poem of the Epping Hunt, were written at Wanstead.
Born in comfortable mediocrity, and early inured127 to narrow fortunes, Hood had no doubt entered upon the literary calling without expecting or caring to become rich. Hitherto, however, he seems to have prospered128 progressively, and to have had no reason to regret, even in a wordly sense, his choice of a profession. But towards the end of 1834 a disaster overtook him; and thenceforth, to the end of his days, he had nothing but tedious struggling and uphill work. To a man of his buoyant temperament129, and happy in his home, this might have been of no extreme consequence, if only sound health had blessed him: unfortunately, the very reverse was the case. Sickly hitherto, he was soon to become miserably130 and hopelessly diseased: he worked on through everything bravely and uncomplainingly, but no doubt with keen throbs131 of discomfort132, and not without detriment133 at times to the quality of his writings. The disaster adverted134 to was the failure of a firm with which Hood was connected, entailing135 severe loss upon him. With his accustomed probity136, he refused to avail himself of any legal immunities137, and resolved to meet his engagements in full eventually; but it became requisite138 that he should withdraw from England. He proposed to settle down in some one of the towns on the Rhine, and circumstances fixed139 his choice on Coblentz. A great storm which overtook him during the passage to Rotterdam told damagingly on his already feeble health. Coblentz, which he reached in March, 1835, pleased him at first; though it was not long before he found himself a good deal of an Englishman, and his surroundings vexatiously German. After a while he came to consider a German Jew and a Jew German nearly convertible140 terms; and indulged at times in considerable acrimony of comment, such as a reader of cosmopolitan141 temper is not inclined to approve. He had, however, at least one very agreeable acquaintance at Coblentz — Lieutenant142 Philip de Franck, an officer in the Prussian service, of partly English parentage: the good-fellowship which he kept up with this amiable143 gentleman, both in personal intercourse144 and by letter, was (as we have seen) even boyishly vivacious145 and exuberant146. In the first instance Hood lived at No. 372 Castor Hof, where his family joined him in the Spring of 1835: about a year later, they removed to No. 752 Alten Graben.
Spasms147 in the chest now began to be a trying and alarming symptom of his ill-health, which, towards the end of 1836, took a turn for the worse; he never afterwards rallied very effectually, though the fluctuations148 were numerous —(in November, 1838, for instance, he fancied that a radical149 improvement had suddenly taken place)— and at times the danger was imminent150. The unfavorable change in question was nearly simultaneous with a visit which he made to Berlin, accompanying Lieutenant de Franck and his regiment151, on their transfer to Bromberg: the rate of travelling was from fifteen to twenty English miles per diem, for three days consecutively, and then one day of rest. Hood liked the simple unextortionate Saxon folk whom he encountered on the route, and contrasted them with the Coblentzers, much to the disadvantage of the latter. By the beginning of December he was back in his Rhineland home; but finally quitted it towards May, 1837. Several attacks of blood-spitting occurred in the interval; at one time Hood proposed for himself the deadly-lively epitaph, “Here lies one who spat152 more blood and made more puns than any other man.”
About this time he was engaged in writing Up the Rhine; performing, as was his wont153, the greater part of the work during the night-hours. The sojourn154 at Coblentz was succeeded by a sojourn at Ostend; in which city — besides the sea, which Hood always supremely155 delighted in — he found at first more comfort in the ordinary mode of living, including the general readiness at speaking or understanding English. Gradually, however, the climate, extremely damp and often cold, proved highly unsuitable to him; and, when he quitted Ostend in the Spring of 1840, at the close of nearly three years’ residence there, it was apparent that his stay had already lasted too long. Within this period the publication of Hood’s Own had occurred, and put to a severe trial even his unrivalled fertility in jest: one of his letters speaks of the difficulty of being perfectly156 original in the jocose157 vein158, more especially with reference to the concurrent159 demands of Hood’s Own, and of the Comic Annual of the year. At the beginning of 1839 he paid a visit of about three weeks to his often-regretted England, staying with one of his oldest and most intimate friends, Mr. Dilke, then editor of the Athen?um. Another of his best friends — one indeed who continued to the end roost unwearied and affectionate in his professional and other attentions, Dr. Elliot — now made a medical examination of Hood’s condition. He pronounced the lungs to be organically sound; the chief seat of disease being the liver, and the heart, which was placed lower down than usual. At a later stage of the disease, enlargement of the heart is mentioned, along with h?morrhage from the lungs consequent on that malady160, and recurring161 with terrible frequency: to these dropsy, arising from extreme weakness, was eventually superadded. Indeed, the catalogue of the illnesses of the unconquerably hilarious162 Hood, and the details of his sufferings, are painful to read. They have at least the merit of giving a touch of adventitious163 but intimate pathos164 even to some of his wildest extravagances of verbal fence — and of enhancing our sympathy and admiration165 for the force and beauty of his personal character, which could produce work such as this out of a torture of body and spirit such as that. During this visit to London, Hood scrutinized166 his publishing and other accounts, and found them sufficiently167 encouraging. The first edition of Up the Rhine, consisting of 1500 copies, sold off In a fortnight. Soon, however, some vexations with publishers ensued: Hood felt it requisite to take legal proceedings168, and the action lingered on throughout and beyond the brief remainder of his life. Thus his prospects169 were again blighted170, and his means crippled when most they needed to be unembarrassed.
The poet was back in England from Ostend in April 1840; and, under medical advice, he determined171 to prolong his visit into a permanent re-settlement in his native London. Here therefore he remained and returned, no more to the Continent. He took a house, with his family, in Camberwell, not far from the Green; removing afterwards to St. John’s Wood, and finally to another house in the same district, Devonshire Lodge172, Finchley Road. He wrote in the New Monthly Magazine, then edited by Theodore Hook: his Rhymes for the Times, the celebrated173 Miss Kilmansegg, and other compositions, first appeared here. Hook dying in August 1841, Hood was invited to succeed him as editor, and closed with the offer: this gave him an annual salary of ￡300, besides the separate payments for any articles that he wrote. The Song of the Shirt, which it would be futile174 to praise or even to characterize, came out, anonymously175 of course, in the Christmas number of Punch for 1843: it ran like wildfire, and rang like a tocsin, through the land. Immediately afterwards, in January 1844, Hood’s connection with the New Monthly closed, and he started a publication of his own, Hood’s Magazine, which was a considerable success: more than half the first number was the actual handiwork of the editor. Many troubles and cross-purposes, however, beset the new periodical; difficulties with which Hood was ill fitted, by his now rapidly and fatally worsening health, to cope. They pestered176 him when he was most in need of rest; and he was in need of rest when most he was wanted to control the enterprise. The Haunted House, and various other excellent poems by Hood, were published in this magazine.
His last days and final agonies were a little cheered by the granting of a Government pension of ￡100, dating from June 1844, which, with kindly177 but ominous178 foresight179, was conferred upon Mrs. Hood, as likely to prove the survivor15. This was during the ministry180 of Sir Robert Peel, whose courteous181 communications to the poet, and expressions of direct personal interest in his writings, made the boon182 all the more acceptable. Hood, indeed, had not been directly concerned in soliciting183 it. At a somewhat earlier date, January 1841, the Literary Society had, similarly unasked, voted him a sum of ￡50; but this he returned, although his circumstances were such as might have made it by no means unwelcome. From Christmas 1844 he was compelled to take to his bed, and was fated never to leave his room again. The ensuing Spring, throughout which the poet lay seemingly almost at the last gasp184 day by day, was a lovely one. At times he was delirious185; but mostly quite clear in mind, and full of gentleness and resignation. “Dying, dying,” were his last words; and shortly before, “Lord, say ‘Arise, take up thy cross, and follow me.’” On the 3d of May 1845 he lay dead.
Hood’s funeral took place in Kensal Green Cemetery186: it was a quiet one, but many friends attended. His faithful and loving wife would not be long divided from him. Eighteen months later she was laid beside him, dying of an illness first contracted from her constant tendance on his sick-bed. In the closing period of his life, Hood could hardly bear her being out of his sight, or even write when she was away. Some years afterwards, a public subscription187 was got up, and a monument erected188 to mark the grave of the good man and true poet who “sang the Song of the Shirt.”
The face of Hood is best known by two busts189 and an oil-portrait which have both been engraved191 from. It is a sort of face to which apparently192 a bust190 does more than justice, yet less than right. The features, being mostly by no means bad ones, look better, when thus reduced to the mere simple and abstract contour, than they probably showed in reality, for no one supposed Hood to be a fine-looking man; on the other hand, the value of the face must have been in its shifting expression — keen, playful, or subtle — and this can be but barely suggested by the sculptor193. The poet’s visage was pallid194, his figure slight, his voice feeble; he always dressed in black, and is spoken of as presenting a generally clerical aspect. He was remarkably195 deficient196 in ear for music — not certainly for the true chime and varied197 resources of verse. His aptitude for the art of design was probably greater than might be inferred from the many comic woodcut-drawings which he has left. These are irresistibly198 ludicrous —(who would not laugh over “The Spoiled Child”—“What next? as the Frog said when his tail fell off”— and a host of others?)— and all the more ludicrous and effective for being drawn199 more childishly and less artistically200 than was within Hood’s compass. One may occasionally see some water-color landscape-bit or the like from his hands pleasantly done; and during his final residence in England he acted upon an idea he had long entertained, and produced some little in the way of oil-painting. He was also ingenious in any sort of light fancy-work — such, for instance, as carving201 the scenery for a child’s theatre which formed the delight of his little son and daughter. His religious faith was, according to the writers of the Memorials, deep and sincere, though his opposition202 to sectarian narrowness and spite of all sorts was vigorous, and caused him sometimes to be regarded as anti-religious. A letter of his to a tract-giving and piously203 censorious lady who had troubled him (published in the same book) is absolutely fierce, and indeed hardly to be reconciled with the courtesy due to a woman, as a mere question of sex. It would be convenient, I may observe, to know more plainly what the biographers mean by such expressions as “religious faith,” “Christian gentleman,” and the like. They are not explained, for instance, by adding that Hood honored the Bible too much to make it a task-book for his children. “Religious faith” covers many very serious differences of sentiment and conviction, between natural theology and historical Christianity; and, on hearing that a man possessed204 religious faith, one would like to learn which of the two extremes this faith was more nearly conversant205 with. In respect of political or social opinion, Hood appears to have been rather humane206 and philanthropic than democratic, or “liberal” in the distinct technical sense. His favorite theory of government, as he said in a letter to Peel, was “an angel from heaven, and a despotism.” He loved neither whigs nor tories, but was on the side of a national policy: war was his abhorrence207, and so were the wicked corn-laws — an oligarchical208 device which survived him, but not for long. His private generosity209, not the less true or hearty210 for the limits which a precarious and very moderate income necessarily imposed on it, was in accordance with the general sentiments of kindness which he was wont to express both in public and private: if he preached, he did not forget to practise.
It has been well said? that “the predominant characteristics of his genius are humorous fancies grafted211 upon melancholy212 impressions.” Yet the term “grafted” seems hardly strong enough. Hood appears, by natural bent and permanent habit of mind, to have seen and sought for ludicrousness under all conditions — it was the first thing that struck him as a matter of intellectual perception or choice. On the other hand, his nature being poetic, his sympathies acute, and the condition of his life morbid213, he very frequently wrote in a tone of deep and indeed melancholy feeling, and was a master both of his own art and of the reader’s emotion; but, even in work of this sort, the intellectual execration214, when it takes precedence of the general feeling, is continually fantastic, grotesque, or positively215 mirthful. And so again with those of his works — including rude designs along with finished or off-hand writing — which are professedly comical: the funny twist of thought is the essential thing, and the most gloomy or horrible subject-matter is often selected as the occasion for the horse-laugh. In some of his works indeed (we might cite the poems named The Dead Robbery, The Forge, and The Supper Superstition) the horse-laugh almost passes into a nightmare laugh. A ghoul might seem to have set it going, and laughing hyenas216 to be chorusing it. A man of such a faculty and such a habit of work could scarcely, in all instances, keep himself within the bounds of good taste — a term which people are far too ready to introduce into serious discussions, for the purpose of casting disparagement217 upon some work which transcends218 the ordinary standards of appreciation219, but a term nevertheless which has its important meaning and its true place. Hood is too often like a man grinning awry220, or interlarding serious and beautiful discourse221 with a nod, a wink222, or a leer, neither requisite nor convenient as auxiliaries223 to his speech: and to do either of these things is to fail in perfect taste. Sometimes, not very often, we are allowed to reach the close of a poem of his without having our attention jogged and called off by a single interpolation of this kind; and then we feel unalloyed — what we constantly feel also even under the contrary conditions — how exquisite224 a poetic sense and how choice a cunning of hand were his. On the whole, we can pronounce Hood the finest English poet between the generation of Shelley and the generation of Tennyson.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
hood
|
|
| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
potent
|
|
| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
coruscating
|
|
| v.闪光，闪烁( coruscate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
lengthening
|
|
| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的现在分词 )； 加长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
poultry
|
|
| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
specimens
|
|
| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
queries
|
|
| n.问题( query的名词复数 )；疑问；询问；问号v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的第三人称单数 )；询问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
affinity
|
|
| n.亲和力，密切关系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
engraver
|
|
| n.雕刻师，雕工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
aptitudes
|
|
| （学习方面的）才能，资质，天资( aptitude的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
aptitude
|
|
| n.(学习方面的)才能，资质，天资 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
inveterate
|
|
| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
survivors
|
|
| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
survivor
|
|
| n.生存者，残存者，幸存者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
chuckling
|
|
| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
stolid
|
|
| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
inadequate
|
|
| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
derived
|
|
| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
resolutely
|
|
| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
schooling
|
|
| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
addicted
|
|
| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
quotations
|
|
| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
perversions
|
|
| n.歪曲( perversion的名词复数 )；变坏；变态心理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
attested
|
|
| adj.经检验证明无病的，经检验证明无菌的v.证明( attest的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
drenched
|
|
| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
perennial
|
|
| adj.终年的；长久的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
witticisms
|
|
| n.妙语，俏皮话( witticism的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
WHIMS
|
|
| 虚妄，禅病 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
crackers
|
|
| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
consecutively
|
|
| adv.连续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
vocation
|
|
| n.职业，行业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
apprenticed
|
|
| 学徒，徒弟( apprentice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
ailing
|
|
| v.生病 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
duel
|
|
| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
concocted
|
|
| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
fictitious
|
|
| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
jocosity
|
|
| n.诙谐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
53
recipient
|
|
| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
uncommon
|
|
| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
immature
|
|
| adj.未成熟的，发育未全的，未充分发展的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
diversified
|
|
| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
beguiles
|
|
| v.欺骗( beguile的第三人称单数 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
amorous
|
|
| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
pedant
|
|
| n.迂儒；卖弄学问的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
viper
|
|
| n.毒蛇；危险的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
semblance
|
|
| n.外貌，外表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
partially
|
|
| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
serial
|
|
| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
pseudonym
|
|
| n.假名，笔名 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
attachment
|
|
| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
precarious
|
|
| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
marital
|
|
| adj.婚姻的，夫妻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
specified
|
|
| adj.特定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
justifies
|
|
| 证明…有理( justify的第三人称单数 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
blemishes
|
|
| n.（身体的）瘢点( blemish的名词复数 )；伤疤；瑕疵；污点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
vipers
|
|
| n.蝰蛇( viper的名词复数 )；毒蛇；阴险恶毒的人；奸诈者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
exalted
|
|
| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
elegance
|
|
| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
ratify
|
|
| v.批准，认可，追认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
predilection
|
|
| n.偏好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
overload
|
|
| vt.使超载；n.超载 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
alleviates
|
|
| 减轻，缓解，缓和( alleviate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
gem
|
|
| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
addiction
|
|
| n.上瘾入迷，嗜好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
domain
|
|
| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
accomplishment
|
|
| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
beset
|
|
| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
subsiding
|
|
| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的现在分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
poetic
|
|
| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
sketches
|
|
| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
uncommonly
|
|
| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
inveteracy
|
|
| n.根深蒂固，积习 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
boundlessly
|
|
| adv.无穷地，无限地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
102
fugitive
|
|
| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
imbuing
|
|
| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的现在分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
104
poetical
|
|
| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
grotesque
|
|
| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
absurdity
|
|
| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
bourgeois
|
|
| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
jeer
|
|
| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
sarcastic
|
|
| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
sprightly
|
|
| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
banter
|
|
| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
humanitarian
|
|
| n.人道主义者，博爱者，基督凡人论者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
ridicule
|
|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
quaintness
|
|
| n.离奇有趣，古怪的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
risible
|
|
| adj.能笑的；可笑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
platitudes
|
|
| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
aromatic
|
|
| adj.芳香的，有香味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
mundane
|
|
| adj.平凡的；尘世的；宇宙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
scanty
|
|
| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
theatrical
|
|
| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
libretto
|
|
| n.歌剧剧本，歌曲歌词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
inured
|
|
| adj.坚强的，习惯的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
prospered
|
|
| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
miserably
|
|
| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
throbs
|
|
| 体内的跳动( throb的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
discomfort
|
|
| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
detriment
|
|
| n.损害；损害物，造成损害的根源 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
adverted
|
|
| 引起注意（advert的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
entailing
|
|
| 使…成为必要( entail的现在分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
probity
|
|
| n.刚直；廉洁，正直 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
immunities
|
|
| 免除，豁免( immunity的名词复数 )； 免疫力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
requisite
|
|
| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
convertible
|
|
| adj.可改变的，可交换，同意义的；n.有活动摺篷的汽车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
cosmopolitan
|
|
| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
lieutenant
|
|
| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
vivacious
|
|
| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
exuberant
|
|
| adj.充满活力的；（植物）繁茂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
spasms
|
|
| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
fluctuations
|
|
| 波动，涨落，起伏( fluctuation的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
radical
|
|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
imminent
|
|
| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
regiment
|
|
| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
spat
|
|
| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
sojourn
|
|
| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
supremely
|
|
| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
jocose
|
|
| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
vein
|
|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
concurrent
|
|
| adj.同时发生的，一致的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
malady
|
|
| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
recurring
|
|
| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
hilarious
|
|
| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
adventitious
|
|
| adj.偶然的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
pathos
|
|
| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
scrutinized
|
|
| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
blighted
|
|
| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
futile
|
|
| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
anonymously
|
|
| ad.用匿名的方式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
pestered
|
|
| 使烦恼，纠缠( pester的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
ominous
|
|
| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
foresight
|
|
| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
ministry
|
|
| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
courteous
|
|
| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
boon
|
|
| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
soliciting
|
|
| v.恳求( solicit的现在分词 )；（指娼妇）拉客；索求；征求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
delirious
|
|
| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
cemetery
|
|
| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
subscription
|
|
| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
ERECTED
|
|
| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
busts
|
|
| 半身雕塑像( bust的名词复数 )； 妇女的胸部； 胸围； 突击搜捕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
bust
|
|
| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
engraved
|
|
| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
sculptor
|
|
| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
pallid
|
|
| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
deficient
|
|
| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
irresistibly
|
|
| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
artistically
|
|
| adv.艺术性地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
carving
|
|
| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
piously
|
|
| adv.虔诚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
conversant
|
|
| adj.亲近的，有交情的，熟悉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
humane
|
|
| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
abhorrence
|
|
| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
oligarchical
|
|
| adj.寡头政治的，主张寡头政治的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
209
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
grafted
|
|
| 移植( graft的过去式和过去分词 )； 嫁接； 使（思想、制度等）成为（…的一部份）； 植根 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
morbid
|
|
| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
execration
|
|
| n.诅咒，念咒，憎恶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
hyenas
|
|
| n.鬣狗( hyena的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
disparagement
|
|
| n.轻视，轻蔑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
transcends
|
|
| 超出或超越（经验、信念、描写能力等）的范围( transcend的第三人称单数 )； 优于或胜过… | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
awry
|
|
| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
wink
|
|
| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
auxiliaries
|
|
| n.助动词 ( auxiliary的名词复数 )；辅助工，辅助人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |