Footnotes:

And again in 1876: ‘He said, and I dare say, says things to be remembered: decisive Verdicts; which I hope some one makes note of: post me memoranda.’

‘Only yesterday I lighted upon some mention of your Father in the Letters of that mad man of Genius Morton, who came to a sudden and terrible end in Paris not long after. He was a good deal in Coram Street, and no one admired your Father more, nor made so sure of his ‘doing something’ at last, so early as 1842. A Letter of Jan. 22/45 says: “I hear of Thackeray at Rome. Once there, depend upon it, he will stay there some time. There is something glutinous in the soil of Rome, that, like the sweet Dew that lies on the lime-leaf, ensnares the Butterfly Traveller’s foot.” Which is not so bad, is it? And again, still in England, and harping on Rome, whose mere name, he says, “moves the handle of the Pump of Tears in him” (one of his grotesque fancies), he suddenly bethinks him (Feb. 4/45). “This is the last day of Carnival, Thackeray is walking down the Corso with his hands in his Breeches pockets: stopping to look at some little Child. At night, millions of Moccoletti, dasht about with endless Shouts and Laughter, etc.”’

‘I am now reading Clarissa Harlowe, for about the fifth time: I dare say you wouldn’t have patience to read it once: indeed the first time is the most trying. It is a very wonderful, and quite original, and unique, Book: but almost intolerable from its Length and Sentimentality.’

‘I was trying yesterday to recover Gray’s Elegy, as you had been doing down here at Christmas, with shut Eyes. But I had to return to the Book: and am far from perfect yet: though I leave out several Stanzas; reserving one of the most beautiful which Gray omitted. Plenty of faults still: but one doats on almost every line, every line being a Proverb now.’