Guilty Thing (71 page)

in expecting too much. . .
Recollections
, p. 146.

trace, in brief outline
. . .
Recollections
, p. 148.

The case of a man who. . .
availing. . . Recollections
, p. 148.

a lover. . .
in any passionate sense. . . Recollections
, p. 185.

how very indelicate it would look
. . .
Recollections
, p. 197.

Whilst foolish people supposed him
. . .
Recollections
, p. 292.

He admits of nothing below
. . .
Hazlitt, p. 125.

He condemns all French writers. . .
Hazlitt, p. 127.

If a greater number of sources
. . .
Hazlitt, p. 128.

truth and life of these Lake Sketches
. . .
H. A. Page, I, p. 302.

pang of wrath. . .
Recollections
, p. 369.

This to me! – O ye gods – to me. . .
Recollections
, p. 320.

with a blind loyalty of homage
. . .
Recollections
, p. 145.

to us who. . .
were Wordsworth's friends
. . .
Recollections
, p. 185.

all of us loved her. . .
Recollections
, p. 146.

Farewell, impassioned
Dorothy!
. . .
Recollections
, p. 206.

My acquaintance with him. . .
Jordan, p. 347.

extracting money ad libitum. . .
Eaton, p. 386.

I wish to stay a month longer
. . .
Eaton, p. 385.

I spend months after months. . .
my shoulders
. . . Eaton, pp. 386–7.

a more absolute wreck of decent prosperity
. . .
Eaton, p. 391.

If I give him nothing . . .
portability
. . . Eaton, p. 392.

Beginning with the small sum . . .
his executor
. . . Eaton, p. 368n.

Caught and chained. . .
H. A. Page, I, p. 30.

The last body who went into that room. . .
Eaton, p. 394.

if once a man indulges himself in murder
. . .
‘Second Paper', p. 84.

Even dogs are not what they were, sir. . .
‘Second Paper', p. 85.

great exterminating chef-d'oeuvre
. . .
‘Second Paper', p. 86.

utter overthrow of happiness. . .
Recollections
, p. 323.

by her own fireside. . .
Recollections
, p. 327.

studious and meditative young boy
. . .
Recollections
, p. 272.

my sole companion. . .
Recollections
, p. 371.

Men of extraordinary genius. . .
appear to listen. . . Recollections
, pp. 375–6.

denounce them for what they were. . .
Recollections
, p. 378.

not even read Walter Scott. . .
Recollections
, p. 383.

Chapter 14: Postscript

Address under cover, if you please. . .
Eaton, p. 404.

It is often shocking. . .
Eaton, p. 405.

half torpid condition under opium. . .
George Gilfillan,
Sketches Literary and Theological, Being selections from an unpublished MS of the late Rev George Gilfillan
, edited by Frank Henderson, Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1881, p. 33.

violent but hopeless attachment. . .
Morrison, p. 323.

This is the End. . .
Eaton, p. 405.

the most absolute harmony. . .
H. A. Page, I, p. 331.

begging about the village for food. . .
MacFarlane,
Reminiscences of a Literary Life
, p. 83.

the misery of her situation
. . .
Eaton, p. 408.

Then I partly understood him, now perfectly. . .
Eaton, p. 416.

vast avenues of gloom
. . .
‘Suspiria', p. 92.

symbolic mirror. . .
‘Suspiria', p. 164.

flying it pursues. . .
Eaton, p. 419.

at the root of all this unimaginable hell. . .
H. A. Page, I, p. 325.

restless legs syndrome. . .
see M. Miranda, A. M. Williams, D. Garcia-Borreguero, ‘Thomas De Quincey and his restless legs symptoms as depicted in
Confessions of an English Opium-Eater
', in
Movement Disorders
, 2010; 25 (13); 2006–9.

as in days of infancy
. . .
Eaton, p. 415.

as one risen from the dead. . .
Eaton, p. 416.

Note the power of murderers as fine-art professors. . .
‘New Paper', p. 162.

throws a power about a man
. . .
‘New Paper', p. 163.

living at this moment. . .
own acts and bodies. . .
‘New Paper', p. 163.

Lifting up his head from the waves
. . .
‘New Paper', p. 163.

deader than a door-nail . . .
the shadowy and the dark. . .
Masson, V, pp. 179–211.

Put not your trust. . .
homage of the sycophantic. . .
‘On Wordsworth's Poetry', in Jordan (ed.),
De Quincey as Critic
, p. 400.

forms more complex and oblique . . .
sad into the joyous. . .
‘On Wordsworth's Poetry', in Jordan (ed.),
De Quincey as Critic
, pp. 404–6.

He has entered upon his seventy-sixth year
. . .
‘On Wordsworth's Poetry', in Jordan (ed.),
De Quincey as Critic
, p. 421.

deluge the room. . .
Hogg, pp. 146–7.

Of all the tasks I ever had in my life
. . .
Morrison, p. 341.

more splendidly than others
. . .
‘Suspiria', p. 91.

J. M. Barrie's Neverland. . .
In a letter to J. M. Barrie on 2 April 1893, written shortly before his death, Robert Louis Stevenson described himself as looking ‘Exceedingly lean, dark, rather ruddy-black eyes, crow's-footed, beginning to be grizzled, general appearance of a blasted boy or blighted youth or to borrow Carlyle on De Quincey, “a child that has been in hell”.'

intolerable grief
. . .
‘Suspiria', p. 95.

I was shut out for ever. . .
‘Suspiria', p. 111.

Again I was in the chamber. . .
‘Suspiria', p. 143.

An adult sympathises with himself . . .
of his sympathy. . .
‘Suspiria', p. 30.

My heart trembled through from end to end. . .
Frederic G. Kenyon (ed.),
The Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning
, London: Macmillan, 1899, p. 161.

What else than a natural and mighty palimpsest
. . .
‘Suspiria', p. 150.

the traces of each successive handwriting
. . .
‘Suspiria', p. 149.

a dilated version of himself. . .
‘Suspiria', pp. 160–1.

I had never seen your face. . .
‘Suspiria', pp. 169–70.

epilepsy of planet-struck fury. . .
Japp, I, p. 8.

Chinese-like reverence. . .
Japp, I, p. 318.

I stared, almost agape . . .
Hogg, p. 119.

garments blackened with writing-ink. . .
David Masson,
De Quincey
, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011, p. 104.

rapidly becoming tomorrow. . .
Masson,
De Quincey
, p. 106.

reconcile him to leaving. . .
Lindop, p. 378.

No Englishman cares a pin. . .
Japp, II, p. 146.

the originator claimed any part of it. . .
Lindop, p. 367.

Mr. Neocles Jaspis Mousabines
. . .
Jordan, p. 333.

the ‘Prelude' stands as an opening to nothing. . .
Hogg, p. 153.

terror and terrific beauty. . .
‘Mail-Coach', p. 192.

the horrid inoculation. . .
sanctuary of himself. . .
‘Mail-Coach', pp. 209–11.

But the lady!. . .
roar of his voice. . .
‘Mail-Coach', p. 235.

desert spaces of the sea. . .
persecution of fugues. . .
‘Mail-Coach', pp. 233–6.

with a grave upward glance
. . .
Hogg, p. 177.

‘Ah!' said the Professor. . .
on the table. . .
Japp, II, p. 32.

links in the chain of evidence
. . .
Japp, II, p. 21.

Crowbars, masks and dark lanterns. . .
damned spot. . .
John Paget, ‘The Philosophy of Murder',
Tait's Edinburgh Magazine
, 22, 1851, pp. 171–6.

scattered in prodigal profusion. . .
George Gilfillan,
Second Gallery of Literary Portraits
, Edinburgh: James Hogg, 1852, p. 302.

absolutely, insuperably, and for ever impossible. . .
Gilfillan,
Second Gallery
, p. 302.

It is astonishing. . .
how much more Boston knows. . .
Masson, VII, pp. 231–2.

chez moi? Or chez la presse?. . .
Japp, II, p. 42.

working through most parts of the night
. . .
Japp, II, p. 54.

piled over each other's heads
. . .
Gilfillan,
Sketches Literary and Theological
, p. 34.

saying the thing that is not. . .
Masson, I, p. 6.

My unfortunate chattels
. . .
Hogg, p. 136.

who ministered to his vanity. . .
Hogg, p. 151.

I often. . .
feel an almost irresistible
. . . Hogg, p. 139.

some account of Williams. . .
an accomplice?. . .
De Quincey,
Selections Grave and Gay, from Writings Published and Unpublished by Thomas De Quincey
, Edinburgh: James Hogg, 1854, p. vi.

to pursue the successive steps
. . .
Marr's shop
. . . ‘Postscript', p. 107.

stout, fresh-faced young man. . .
‘Postscript', p. 102.

Let us leave the murderer alone
. . .
in her absence. . .
‘Postscript', p. 108.

in an area of London where ferocious tumults
. . .
‘Postscript', p. 110.

What was it?. . .
different sides. . .
‘Postscript', p. 111.

by way of locking up all
. . .
‘Postscript', p. 114.

I was myself at the time nearly three hundred miles . . .
for ever on the Thames. . .
‘Postscript', p. 99.

the house-door was suddenly shut . . .
pull murderer. . .
‘Postscript', pp. 120–6.

murderous malice of the man below. . .
‘Postscript', p. 126.

pass through a prism. . .
Masson, X, p. 226.

the hard fact. . .
Woolf, ‘Impassioned Prose',
TLS
, 16 Sep 1926.

we think that the circumstances of that mutiny. . .
James and Critchley,
The Maul and the Peartree
, p. xxi.

one novelty, viz, an account
. . .
Japp, II, p. 87.

What would the Baker say?. . .
Hogg, p. 184.

on Tuesday last I saw the death announced
. . .
Japp, II, p. 98.

My adversaries are in full chase
. . .
Gilfillan,
Sketches Literary and Theological
, p. 34.

a door opened . . .
no Emily entered at the door. . .
Japp, II, pp. 92–3.

much like other people. . .
Japp, II, p. 192.

Never for one moment have I doubted
. . .
Japp, II, p. 119.

I long for the rest of De Quincey
. . .
Lindop, p. 377.

Miss Smith has been cruelly treated. . .
Japp, II, p. 132.

at the tail of 666 wagons. . .
Japp, II, p. 142.

a vision of children. . .
Japp, II, p. 132.

like a boy of fourteen. . .
Japp, II, p. 305.

Select Bibliography

Books and articles

Abrams, M. H.,
The Milk of Paradise: The Effects of Opium Visions on the Works of De Quincey, Crabbe, Francis Thompson, and Coleridge
, New York: Harper & Row, 1962

Ackroyd, Peter,
Dan Leno and the Limehouse Golem
, London: Minerva, 1995

Appleman, Philip, ‘D. H. Lawrence and the Intrusive Knock',
Modern Fiction Studies
3 (1958)

Bachelard, Gaston,
The Poetics of Space
, translated from the French by Maria Jolas, Beacon Press: Boston, 1994