Guilty Thing (70 page)

I have been presented by the Press . . .
debauchery. . .
‘An Account of a Late Trial at Hertford',
London Magazine
, Feb 1824, p. 180.

worked himself up into a great actor. . .
London Magazine
, Feb 1824, p. 189.

what a Gentleman. . .
see Judith Flanders,
The Invention of Murder: How the Victorians Revelled in Death and Detection,
London: HarperCollins, 2011, p. 40.

the murder is a good one, as you observe. . .
unpublished letter in the British Library, BL MS 37, 215: see A. S. Plumtree, ‘The Artist as Murderer, De Quincey's Essay “On Murder Considered As One of the Fine Arts”,' in Robert Snyder, ed.,
Thomas De Quincey, Bicentenary Studies
, University of Oklahoma Press, 1986.

‘Tims on Thurtell!!'
. . .
I hae laucht so muckle. . . Blackwood's Magazine
, Vol. 15, Apr 1824, p. 376.

the sensations. . .
Edgar Allan Poe, ‘How to Write a Blackwood Article',
Thirty-Two Stories
, p. 70.

We are certainly a blood-thirsty people. . .
in all his glory. . . Blackwood's Magazine
, Apr 1824, pp. 377–9.

Humbug of the Age. . .
William Maginn, ‘Humbugs of the Age: No 1 – The Opium Eater'.

after the fashion of poor Savage the poet. . .
Charles MacFarlane,
Reminiscences of a Literary Life
, New York: Charles Scribners, 1917, p. 83.

studied for himself in the fields. . .
singular. . .
Morrison, p. 239.

amongst the most remarkable. . .
guilty darkness of this transaction. . .
‘Peter Anthony Fonk', in Morrison (ed.),
On Murder,
pp. 144–54.

To fence with illness
. . .
Gordon,
Memoir of John Wilson
, II, p. 80.

Pain and Fuss. . .
Thomas Sadler (ed.),
Diary, Reminiscence and Correspondence of Henry Crabb Robinson
, London: Macmillan, 1869, II, p. 9.

constantly beset by idle fears. . .
Hogg, p. 243.

Oh Miss Wordsworth. . .
this service. . .
Jordan, p. 297.

to fly from himself. . .
Hogg, p. 139.

Druggists than to the Shoe Maker. . .
Coburn, p. 310.

pretty uniformly = o. . .
Morrison, p. 248.

What a wonderful city Edinburgh is. . .
Griggs, II, p. 988.

The man is a fool. . .
Miller, p. 128.

Socrates, Plato, Aristotle
. . .
Japp, II, pp. 44–5.

a less mysterious outward appearance. . .
Morrison, p. 203.

the double-faced old gentleman
. . .
Eaton, p. 309.

I am wedded to you so closely
. . .
James Hogg,
The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner
, edited by John Carey, Oxford: Oxford World's Classics, 1969, p. 229.

O that I had the wings of a dove. . .
Hogg,
Private Memoirs and Confessions
, p. 224.

So often had I been hoaxed. . .
Hogg,
Private Memoirs and Confessions
, p. 245.

Turks, Persians and Chinamen. . .
MacFarlane,
Reminiscences of a Literary Life
, p. 80.

Mrs De Quincey seemed on the whole. . ..
E. de Selincourt (ed.),
The Letters of Dorothy and William Wordsworth, The Later Years, part 1, 1825–1828
, revised by Alan G. Hill, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978, p. 485.

tone laconic, or curt. . .
Poe, ‘How to Write a Blackwood Article', p. 70.

Pleasant it is, no doubt . . .
De Quincey was remembering Thomas Carew's ‘Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villiers': ‘For thou perhaps at thy return,/ May'st find thy Darling in an Urn'.

these horrid details . . .
Gordon,
Memoir of John Wilson
, p. 62

created the taste by which he is to be enjoyed. . .
‘On Murder', p. 10.

‘Fire! Fire!'
. . .
‘On Murder', p. 11.

the great gallery of murder. . .
the old transcendentalist. . .
‘On Murder', pp. 16–23.

mere plagiarism. . .
‘On Murder', p. 30.

a log on the floor. . .
‘On Murder', p. 27.

the murderer was a poet, the poet was a murderer. . .
see A. S. Plumtree's excellent essay, ‘The Artist as Murderer. . .': ‘I would propose that De Quincey's conception of the murderer as artist springs from an intuition of the artist as murderer. . .' Also suggestive is Margo Ann Sullivan's
Murder and Art, Thomas De Quincey and the Ratcliffe Highway Murders
, New York: Garland, 1987.

Impenitent as a snake . . .
demandin' back their ain atomies. . . Blackwood's Magazine
, Mar 1829, p. 389.

Pray do not be alarmed . . .
filthy plagiarist. . .
‘To the Editor of Blackwood's Magazine', in Morrison (ed.),
On Murder
, pp. 156–60.

grew pale as ashes. . .
not yet begun to write. . .
C. R. Saunders (ed.),
Collected Letters of Thomas and Jane Welsh Carlyle
, Durham NC: Duke University Press, 1970, IV, pp. 282–3, 300.

some things from my Conversation
. . .
Morrison, p. 260.

too florid. . .
some peculiar brilliance. . .
Masson, V, pp. 263–8, 278.

I wish you would praise me. . .
Elsie Swann,
Christopher North
(
John Wilson
), London: Oliver and Boyd, 1934, p. 197.

Paying only the annual interest
. . .
Lindop, p. 292.

the love that we all bear the place . . .
Lindop, p. 308.

Father called on Mr de Quincey
. . .
Jordan, p. 300.

Chapter 13: Same Subject (continued)

De Quincey owed money to fifty-one tradespeople. . .
see Kenneth Forward, ‘De Quincey's Cessio Bonorum',
PMLA
, liv, No. 2 (Jun 1939), pp. 511–25.

Mr De Qunshy. . .
land o' Nod
. . .
Blackwood's Magazine
, Jun 1830.

with a pencil of light. . .
Blackwood's Magazine
, Jun 1830, pp. 814, 943.

Some one of my ancestors . . .
interesting creatures. . . Blackwood's Magazine
, Jun 1830, p. 943.

the last letter she'll ever write. . .
Lindop, p. 298.

had a father
. . .
Lindop, pp. 299–300.

My extremity is complete. . .
Eaton, p. 341.

about the South end of Clerk Street
. . .
Morrison, p. 279.

deliver me from an abyss
. . .
Lindop, p. 303.

to suit his own eyesight. . .
Virginia Woolf, ‘Impassioned Prose',
Times Literary Supplement
, 16 Sep 1926.

not the action and situation to the feeling
. . .
Brett and Jones (eds),
Lyrical Ballads
, p. 293.

most irreclaimable Tories now extant. . .
Saunders (ed.),
Collected Letters of Thomas and Jane Welsh Carlyle
, VI, 18 Apr 1833.

bright summer mornings
. . .
Eaton, p. 365.

the struggles of departing life. . .
‘Suspiria', p. 102.

an uncared-for dog. . .
on the watch in all directions. . .
Morrison, p. 283.

I knew Mrs Hannah More . . .
intimate acquaintance. . .
Masson, XIV, pp. 96–7.

pink ribbons. . .
Masson, XIV, pp. 116–17.

I was born in a situation
. . .
De Quincey, ‘Sketches of Life and Manners, from the Autobiography of an English Opium-Eater',
Tait's Edinburgh Magazine
, Feb 1834, p. 18.

The reading public of England
. . .
J. R. de J. Jackson (ed.),
Coleridge:
The Critical Heritage,
London: Routledge, 1970, pp. 436–51.

fat flabby incurvated personage. . .
letter to John Carlyle, 1824, quoted in Holmes,
Coleridge:
Darker Reflections
, pp. 543–4.

a kind of Magus, girt in mystery and enigma. . .
Thomas Carlyle,
The Life of John Sterling
, Boston: Philips, Sampson and Co., 1851, pp. 69, 70.

I grieved then that I could not grieve. . .
Charles Lamb, ‘On the Death of Coleridge',
The Works of Charles Lamb
, New York: Thomas Y. Crowell, 1882, p. 140.

not in any sense, nor at any time. . .
Lindop, p. 317.

elder brother or doppelgänger. . .
Holmes,
Darker Reflections
, p. 102.

apparition of the Brocken. . .
Payne Collier,
Seven Lectures
, p. 101.

recollection of some family distresses. . .
Morrison, p. 288.

everlasting silence and forgetfulness. . .
H. A. Page, I, p. 305.

I believe that in the course. . .
Eaton, p. 364.

I will assert finally . . .
Shakespeare in modern. . . Recollections
, pp. 40–1.

no personal charms. . .
Recollections
, p. 53.

no particular civility. . .
Recollections
, p. 52.

last person in the world. . .
Recollections
, p. 74.

on the highway by himself. . .
Recollections
, p. 79.

What is become of all this mighty heap of hope
. . .
William Hazlitt,
Spirit of the Age, Or Contemporary Portraits
, Oxford: World's Classics, 1904, p. 42.

Worlds of fine thinking. . .
Recollections
, p. 76.

speaks of his kindness of heart
. . .
H. A. Page, I, p. 301.

an anomaly and a contradiction
. . .
MacFarlane,
Reminiscences of a Literary Life
, pp. 81–2.

must be incorrect. . .
Eaton, p. 366.

Rhadamanthine rage
. . .
Carlyle,
Reminiscences
, p. 324.

It is not to be doubted. . .
obnoxious publication. . .
see Daniel Sanjiv Roberts,
Revisionary Gleam:
De Quincey, Coleridge and the High Romantic Argument
, Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2000, p. 16.

in a disreputable magazine. . .
Japp, II, p. 173.

Any of us. . .
would be jealous . . . Wordsworth's doppelgänger. . .
Masson, XI, p. 461.

echoes of joy . . .
records of sighs. . . Recollections
, p. 299.

I was under a possession. . .
Morrison, p. 291.

Yet in the lowest deep . . .
Masson, XII, p. 158.

Not only has she absorbed. . .
Eaton, p. 365n.

unhinged by sorrow. . .
Japp, II, pp. 219–20.

Delicate health. . .
than our mother. . .
H. A. Page, I, p. 195.

those who weep in secret. . .
Eaton, p. 363.

trembled with anger. . .
blindness. . .
Jordan, p. 233.

in a long, long time. . .
Eaton, p. 373.

for his own enjoyment
. . .
Eaton, p. 375.

too little discretion
. . .
Eaton, p. 373.

no man a shilling. . .
Masson, XII, p. 161.

never ridded myself
. . .
Masson, XII, p. 168.

the juggernaut of social life. . .
Masson, XII, p. 160.

suddenly a sound. . .
who is at the door?. . .
Masson, XII, p. 185.

She is, or she is not, guilty
. . .
Masson, XII, p. 204.

Wrath, wrath immeasurable
. . .
Masson, XII, p. 208.

My revenge. . .
was perfect. . .
Masson, XII, p. 233.

misery has a privilege. . .
Masson, XII, p. 189.

as though it were a future thing. . .
Masson, XII, p. 210.

that which sometimes. . .
one deep calling to another. . .
‘The Avenger', in Morrison (ed.),
On Murder
, p. 36.

Mr De Quincey's young, fair-haired
. . .
Morrison, p. 299.

north and south banks
. . .
Eaton, p. 375.

groanings unutterable
. . .
Eaton, p. 375.

the prevailing mystery in which he delighted. . .
Japp, II, p. 192.

when he was the successful man
. . .
Eaton, p. 420.

assumed the beau
. . .
Recollections
, p. 167.

And here I may mention . . .
drowning world. . . Recollections
, p. 170.