Guilty Thing

  dazzling day. . . Whispering Galleries. . . Masson, III, p. 300.

  What was it?. . . my fancied felony. . . Masson, III, p. 310.

  total revolt. . . Japp, I, p. 71.

  headstrong act. . . magnify. . . Masson, III, pp. 312, 317.

  even the brooks . . . seeking in Wales. . . Masson, III, p. 322.

  You must recollect, Betty . . . Masson, III, p. 323.

  two and a half hours. . . this vagrancy. . . Masson, III, p. 329.

  to fly where no man pursued. . . Masson, III, p. 338.

  real suffering. . . Masson, II, p. 55.

  the last brief. . . expiring lamp. . . Masson, III, p. 343.

  whole atmosphere. . . and in darkness. . . Masson, III, pp. 346–7.

  unhappy countenance. . . barely decent. . . Masson, III, pp. 350–1.

  Radix God. . . see Iain McCalman, ‘Mystagogues of Revolution’, in James Chandler and Kevin Gilmartin (eds), Romantic Metropolis: The Urban Scene of British Culture, 1780 –1840, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, p. 192.

  corrector of Greek proofs. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 28.

  extremities such as these. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 19.

  ballad-singing confraternity. . . John Thomas Smith, A Book for a Rainy Day, Or, Recollections of the Events of the Years 1766–1833, London: Methuen, 1905, p. 239.

  natural black frame. . . Charles Lamb, ‘Recollections of a Late Royal Academician’ (1831) in The Complete Correspondence and Works of Charles Lamb, with an essay on his life and genius by Thomas Purnell, London: E. Moxton, 1870, III, p. 406.

  ceiled with looking glasses. . . enriched with trees. . . Jerry White, A Great and Monstrous Thing: London in the Eighteenth Century, London: Bodley Head, 2011, p. 294.

  the outcasts and pariahs. . . sitting. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 24.

  ragged dirty shoes. . . common to them all. . . Francis Place, The Autobiography of Francis Place, edited with an introduction by Mary Thale, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972, p. 71.

  died on the spot. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 26.

  by dreamy lamplight . . . shed tears. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 27.

  fraud. . . De Quincey, ‘Some Thoughts on Biography’, in Japp (ed.), Posthumous Works of Thomas De Quincey, I, p. 116.

  beauteous Wretches. . . the same circle. . . ‘An Account of the Life of Mr Richard Savage’, in Donald Greene (ed.), The Oxford Authors, Samuel Johnson, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984, p. 145.

  nest-egg. . . Japp (ed.), Posthumous Works of Thomas De Quincey, I, p. 114.

  on moonlight nights. . . fly to comfort. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 40.

  many a charming family scene . . . Sophie in London, 1786; Being the Diary of Sophie v la Roche, trans. from the German by Clare Williams, London: Jonathan Cape, 1933, p. 141.

  now in the occupation . . . cheerful and gay. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 34.

  If she lived. . . meeting her. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 38.

  stony-hearted stepmother. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 39.

  concessions. . . Diary, p.18.

  book that . . . does not permit itself to be read. . . Edgar Allan Poe, ‘The Man of the Crowd’, in Edgar Allan Poe, Thirty-Two Stories, edited by Stuart Levin and Susan F. Levine, Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing, 2000, p. 129.

  Chapter 5: Summer Vacation

  good and kind matron. . . under her roof. . . Robert Syers, History of Everton, Including Familiar Dissertations on the People, and Descriptive Delineations of the Several & Separate Properties of the Township, Liverpool: J. and G. Robinson, 1830, p. 303.

  afloat in the heart of the town. . . W. Jones, The Liverpool Guide, Including a Sketch of the Environs, Liverpool, Crane and Jones, 1801, p. 34.

  lost in thought . . . never passed away. . . Diary, p. 25.

  the sentence hangs and turns. . . Diary, p. 55.

  damnation to drink. . . Diary, p. 55.

  talk about the war. . . Diary, p. 53.

  as inferior beings. . . Diary, p. 50.

  road down to hell. . . Diary, p. 36.

  Chattertonian melancholia. . . Diary, p. 13.

  I see Chatterton. . . at midnight. . . Diary, p. 22.

  Edmund Spenser. . . NO. . . Diary, p. 15.

  A few days ago. . . by my heart. . . Diary, pp. 20–1.

  I image myself . . . not tell you. . . Diary, p. 22

  second identity. . . Recollections, p. 120.

  walked into the lanes . . . saved me trouble. . . Diary, p. 22.

  Sir. . . lowly to prostrate myself. . . Diary, pp. 28–30.

  I thought it . . . of their accomplishment. . . Diary, p. 28.

  humble task. . . works might relate. . . Francis Jeffrey, Contributions to the Edinburgh Review, London: Longman Brown, 1846, I, p. 11.

  Poetry has this much . . . call in question. . . ‘Southey’s Thalaba; a metrical Romance’, Edinburgh Review 1.1, October 1802, pp. 63–83.

  What is a poet?. . . Brett and Jones (eds), Lyrical Ballads, p. 300.

  the face of a darling Child. . . Richard Holmes, Coleridge: Early Visions 1772–1804, London: HarperCollins, 1989, p. 326.

  feeble, fluttering, ingenious. . . Masson, II, p. 60.

  electrical . . . were all new. . . Henry Cockburn, Life of Lord Jeffrey: With a Selection From His Correspondence, Edinburgh, A & C Black, 1852, p. 131.

  I was not . . . my going there. . . Diary, p. 31.

  dying on an island. . . Diary, p. 38.

  admits of humour. . . Diary, p. 25.

  Southey. . . metrical pathos. . . Diary, p. 54.

  I suppose that most men. . . interest and happiness. . . Diary, pp. 40–2.

  These particulars I gathered. . . Wordsworth or Coleridge. . . Diary, p. 44.

  of Coleridge. . . go to sleep. . . Diary, p. 44.

  My imagination flies. . . Diary, p. 55.

  fears and schemes were put to flight. . . Jordan, p. 35.

  Chapter 6: Residence at Oxford

  Let there be a cottage. . . Jasmine. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 65.

  A remarkable instance. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 180.

  it would be out of nature. . . all others. . . Japp, I, p. 121.

  My friendship is not. . . very happy . . . Japp, I, p. 121.

  a rare thing. . . Mary Moorman, William Wordsworth: The Early Years, 1770–1803, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1957, p. 568.

  at your feet. . . Moorman, Early Years, p. 568.

  Plant it. . . as yours. . . Moorman, Early Years, p. 587.

  Your sincere friend. . . Moorman, Early Years, p. 595.

  The Beau . . . his verses. . . Moorman, Early Years, p. 184.

  In your poems. . . take no interest. . . Mary Gordon, ‘Christopher North’: A Memoir of John Wilson, Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas, 1862, pp. 26–32.

  Nothing in England . . . W. A. Speck, Robert Southey: Entire Man of Letters, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006, p. 101.

  a convulsive inclination. . . Duncan Wu, Hazlitt: The First Modern Man, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008, p. 11.

  William Hazlitt. . . twang of the Bow-string. . . Griggs, II, pp. 990–1.

  What foolish thing. . .good wishes to them both. . . Jordan, pp. 34–5.

  It was Ann Radcliffe. . . Masson, III, p. 282.

  heaviness of heart. . . Griggs, II, p. 975.

  determined hater of the French. . . William Knight (ed.), Letters of the Wordsworth Family from 1787 to 1855, Boston and London: Ginn and Co., 1907, I, p. 150.

  No longer. . . of the world. . . Masson, II, p. 10.

  Singularly barren. . . Jordan, p. 21.

  knew nothing. . . escaped. . . Masson, II, p. 55.

  one hundred words. . . pompous. . . Masson, II, p. 75.

  When you gave me permission. . . acquaintance. . . Jordan, p. 36.

  Some years ago. . . converse with nature. . . Jordan, p. 37.

  repent the notice. . . Jordan, p. 41.

  wet and cheerless. . . ‘Confessions’, p.
55.

  In an hour. . . mail-coach. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 46.

  the majestic intellect. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 47.

  torments. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 47.

  shut him up. . . George Gilfillan, Second Gallery of Literary Portraits, Edinburgh: James Hogg, 1852, p. 298.

  I sought him. . . bodily fashion. . . ‘Confessions’, pp. 42–3.

  an absolute revelation . . . men. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 46.

  without much regarding. . . north-west passage. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 53.

  It was my disease. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 54.

  a size too large. . . Virginia Woolf, ‘The English Mail Coach’, in Andrew McNeillie (ed.), The Essays of Virginia Woolf, 1904–1912, New York: Harcourt Brace Javanovich, 1986, I, p. 365.

  But Mr Lamb. . . began our conversation. . . Hogg, p. 71.

  began to inquire. . . waiting. . . Recollections, p. 34.

  phantom-self. . . Recollections, p. 120.

  spiritualised object. . . coal cellar in disguise. . . ‘Mail-Coach’, pp. 197, 195.

  foolish panic. . . Recollections, pp. 122–3.

  guilty weight. . . ‘Mail-Coach’, p. 230.

  long silence. . . willingly recall. . . Jordan, p. 42.

  the frost of death. . . ‘Suspiria’, p. 143.

  one CRIME of OPIUM. . . Molly Lefebure, Samuel Taylor Coleridge: A Bondage of Opium, London: Quartet, 1974, p. 40.

  Sources of Happiness. . . Diary, pp. 72–3.

  look dreadful. . . Michael Neve, ‘Spaced’, London Review of Books, III, No. 16, 3 Sep 1981.

  loveliest of landscapes. . . like a guilty thing. . . Recollections, p. 122.

  Chapter 7: Retrospect: Love of Nature Leading to Love of Mankind

  there was a limit. . . Recollections, p. 124.

  to have not been original. . . Recollections, p. 35.

  sent a carriage for him. . . Recollections, p. 43.

  in height. . . mighty music. . . Recollections, p. 46.

  not been a happy one. . . Recollections, p. 51.

  rolling, rudderless. . . Griggs, IV, p. 651.

  utterly changed. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 78.

  current of my own. . . Griggs, IV, p. 888.

  Sara! Sara! Love me!. . . Seamus Perry (ed.), Coleridge’s Notebooks: A Selection, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002, p. 96.

  perpetual struggle. . . poison-taking. . . Griggs, II, p. 1178.

  idolatry of that family. . . Kenneth Curry (ed.), New Letters of Robert Southey, 1792–1810, New York: Columbia University Press, 1965, I, pp. 44–9.

  under the full dominion. . . Recollections, p. 43.

  gossiping taste. . . Recollections, p. 154.

  a cruel sweat on the brow. . . see Richard Holmes, Coleridge: Darker Reflections, London: HarperCollins, 1998, p. 96.

  besieged by decay. . . Recollections, p. 56.

  Two faces. . . ever the same. . . Ernest Hartley Coleridge (ed.), Anima Poetae: From the Unpublished Notebooks of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, London: Heinemann, 1895, pp. 176–7.

  drivelling to the common pile-wort . . . a sucking-pig. . . For a selection of the reviews see E. Smith, An Estimate of William Wordsworth by his Contemporaries, 1793–1822, Oxford: Blackwell, 1932.

  routs, dinners, morning calls. . . Mary Moorman, William Wordsworth: A Biography, The Later Years, 1803–1850, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1966, p. 104.

  not a man in the Kingdom. . . Lindop, p. 146.

  no doubt of the source. . . Japp, 1891, I, p. 133.

  I never knew two pairs . . . stops growing. . . Griggs, III, pp. 37–8.

  sudden shock. . . Recollections, p. 127.

  apparition. . . cordial manner. . . Recollections, pp. 127–8.

  stunned. . . expression of benignity. . . Recollections, pp. 128–9.

  all fire. . . impassioned intellect. . . Recollections, pp. 131, 188.

  fourteen steps. . . Recollections, p. 134.

  showed him the universe. . . Stopford Brooke, Dove Cottage: Wordsworth’s Home from 1800–1808, London: Macmillan, 1894, p. 53.

  this sequestered nook. . . Wordsworth, ‘The Green Linnet’.

  What-like?. . . Recollections, p. 135.

  Is it possible. . . depths below all depths. . . Recollections, pp. 135–6, 139.

  only to laugh at it. . . Recollections, p. 308.

  so very shy. . . Knight (ed.), Letters, I, p. 325.

  whatever fate Befal me. . . see Alethea Hayter, The Wreck of the Abergavenny: The Wordsworths and Catastrophe, Basingstoke: Macmillan, 2002, pp. 23–4.

  superior. . . self-contempt. . . Recollections, p. 207.

  the forest of his genius. . . Recollections, p. 139.

  enshrined Mr and Mrs Crump. . . Moorman, Early Years, p. 441.

  at t’maist o’ t’ houses i’ these parts. . . Hardwicke Drummond Rawnsley, Reminiscences of Wordsworth among the Peasantry of Westmoreland, London: Dillon’s University Bookshop, 1968, p. 20.

  good enough for me. . . Recollections, p. 211.

  city tailor. . . Recollections, p. 215.

  ancient fireside friends. . . Recollections, p. 221.

  calumny and ingratitude. . . Griggs, I, p. 298.

  we are by no means glad. . . Moorman, Early Years, p. 140.

  at the zenith. . . Recollections, p. 321.

  ridiculed. . .effeminate. . . Recollections, p. 319.

  doomed household. . . Recollections, p. 324.

  woman you admire. . . Japp, I, p. 285.

  All of us loved her. . . Recollections, p. 206.

  gift from God . . . not have had. . . Recollections, p. 201.

  Chapter 8: Home at Grasmere

  struggling with pain . . . in the highway by himself. . . Recollections, pp. 77–9.

  Wordsworth the great poet. . . Edwin W. Marrs (ed.), The Letters of Charles and Mary Lamb, Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, II, p. 274.

  sloven. . . those he opposes. . . Moorman, Later Years, p. 124.

  having been treated. . . expectations. . . Jordan, p. 87.

  You have sent . . . before him. . . Hogg, p. 102.

  I do therefore ask you. . . Japp, I, p. 136.

  I have suffered considerable. . . Japp, I, p. 138.

  Some of them. . . gloom of the hall. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 78.

  aerial dungeon. . . Recollections, p. 344.

  a chamber within a chamber. . . Recollections, p. 251.

  he is loving, gentle and happy. . . Knight (ed.), Letters, I, p. 425.

  Mr de Quincey has been here. . . Jordan, p. 57.

  little Chinese maiden. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 365.

  her sole tutor. . . gentle thoughts. . . Knight (ed.), Letters, I, p. 436.

  a sixteen stoner. . . William Maginn, ‘John Wilson, Esq’, Fraser’s Magazine, 3 (Apr 1831), p. 364.

  balmy odours. . . see Karl Miller, Electric Shepherd: A Likeness of James Hogg, London: Faber, 2003, p. 129.

  more brilliant . . . principles of poetry. . . Recollections, p. 123.

  headlong nonsense. . . H. A. Page, II, p. 175.

  the stormiest pleasures. . . Recollections, p. 362.

  I abhor stairs. . . Gordon, Memoir of John Wilson, p. 89.

  a most tempestuous youth. . . Masson, V, p. 279.

  he rarely walked. . . Jordan, p. 217.

  I have often remarked . . . circumstances. . . Recollections, p. 160.

  no neighbour that buys them. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 377.

  dearest spot of all. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 376.

  A monstrous incongruity!. . . Japp, II, p. 5.

  that beautiful and wild-hearted girl. . . Japp, II, p. 285.

  stop the press. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 294.

  the very great injustice . . . Jordan, p. 132.

  Never describe Wordsworth . . . Recollections, p. 381.

  it gives me great concern . . . Middle Years, pt 1, pp. 317–18.

  fending and proving. . . Recollections, p. 376.
<
br />   You must take it . . . decently. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 339.

  much anxiety and care. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 320.

  dismembered creatures. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 337.

  When I get to the house. . .down in it. . . Jordan, pp. 317–18.

  joy in the house. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 314.

  at all in fault. . . Jordon, p. 198.

  both respect. . . Second-thoughts. . . Griggs, III, pp. 305–6.

  according to all analogy. . . Hogg, p. 24.

  Sometimes we fancy. . . pleasure. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 169.

  I observe you always say. . . out of your way. . . Japp, II, p. 3.

  in exact proportion. . . promise. . . Griggs, III, p. 927.

  twenty Atlantics. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 85.

  the motion of time. . . haunted my sleep. . . ‘Confessions’, p. 53.

  he recommended . . . the next generation. . . Masson, III, p. 112.

  three Walking Stewarts. . . Masson, III, p. 107.

  forgeries. . . Japp, I, p. 262.

  my non-identity. . . Japp, I, p. 256.

  We could not help laughing. . . Japp, I, p. 283.

  when I first came here . . . sitting-room. . . Jordan, p. 244.

  malice has done the work. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 338.

  Pleasant indeed it is . . . ravaged. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 337.

  perfect paradise. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 369.

  in three weeks. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 363.

  When are we to see you?. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 371.

  He has been in cold Countries. . . Jordan, p. 254.

  It was. . . on a November night. . . Recollections, p. 301.

  Chapter 9: Residence in Dove Cottage and the Revolution

  little orphan maiden. . . Recollections, p. 301.

  one of our own Family. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 374.

  I can tell you. . . smallness of the house. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 376.

  lazy, luxurious and sensual. . . Recollections, p. 269.

  youthful charge. . . Recollections, p. 370.

  smothered. . . Recollections, p. 294.

  tip-top of exaltation. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 374.

  not the least atom of beauty. . . Middle Years, pt 1, p. 370.

  impersonation of the dawn. . . Recollections, p. 372.

  the only very intimate friend. . . Recollections, p. 288.

  the sound of pealing anthems. . . Recollections, p. 332.

  trace the course . . . reign of the cricket. . . Recollections, pp. 228–9.