![]() ‘Mr Clough sat at the foot of my sofa with this keen expression of investigation, which I determined not to mind, & only thought him un-understandable.’ Part of what unnerved Clough’s contemporaries – in his verse as well as in life – was his talent for scissoring through the evasions and impostures of Victorian morality: ‘Thou shalt not kill but needst not strive/Officiously to keep alive’ ‘Thou shalt not covet but tradition/Approves all forms of competition.’ Just as unsettling was the sense that, despite his destructive energy, Clough never seemed to arrive anywhere. ‘I tried to talk with him, but he has the most peculiar manner I almost ever saw,’ she wrote to Thackeray the following day. ![]() I n the summer of 1849, Arthur Hugh Clough went to dinner with the writer Jane Octavia Brookfield.
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