« back to search

"But now, my Lord, I am coming to the melancholly Part of fair Agnes's Description, her Mind, 'twas all a Blot, nor had it ever been otherways; she had no Notion of Things, no Discourse, no Memory."

— Manley, Delarivier (c. 1670-1724)

Author

Manley, Delarivier (c. 1670-1724)

Work Title

Memoirs of Europe

Place of Publication

London

Publisher

Printed for John Morphew

Date

1710

Metaphor

"But now, my Lord, I am coming to the melancholly Part of fair Agnes's Description, her Mind, 'twas all a Blot, nor had it ever been otherways; she had no Notion of Things, no Discourse, no Memory."

Metaphor in Context

To study Nature's Productions was always delightful to me, especially in any of her irregular Workings. This gave me to contemplate my Merchana's Wife for what I have lately told you, but much more a Daughter of hers of whom she was very fond; this Girl was call'd Agnes, most beautifully featured, but an Idiot, her Eyes of the fiercest finest Black, sparkling till they struck again; but attentively considering 'em, you found no Knowledge, [end page 43] no Management, nothing informing in their lustre, and yet wonderfully bright; her Eye-Lashes were peculiarly full, long, andcharming, so that whenever she look'd down, they bewitch'd one. Her Eye-Brows were such as Apelles wou'd have chosen for his Venus, justly arch'd in a fair smooth Fore-head, that look'd more polished than Marble; the rest of her Features were answerable, and her Complexion a Friend to all, no Vermillion was purer than that upon her Cheeks, no Coral more lively than her Lips; nor had she any Defect through her whole Limbs or Person, but something too large a Head, whence it is plain, that that is no Indication of great Understanding. But now, my Lord, I am coming to the melancholly Part of fair Agnes's Description, her Mind, 'twas all a Blot, nor had it ever been otherways; she had no Notion of Things, no Discourse, no Memory, I have carefully minded her, had her carry'd abroad and entertain'd with all that may be suppos'd pleasing to a Girl of her Age, but cou'd not get her to report the least Syllable, nor was she ever known to tell a Tale, or complain of the ill Usage of the Maids, though by way of Experiment, I was an Encourager to one of 'em, naturally cruel, to use her harshly; her Mother, who [end page 44] doated so far upon the Girl's Out-side, that she never saw the Defect within; by her kind Usage gave her Confidence enough to make any Complaint, had she been capable of it. Her Appetite was large, and rejected nothing, nor did Instinct, as far as I cou'd perceive, carry her to distinguish in her Meats or Drink; whether it were that her Mother's Fondness seldom put her to the Choice, because she always gave her the best of every thing; or that lovely Agnes in Election, was even below a Brute? but she eat promiscuously of every thing, tho' rather the savory than thesweet, which she might also copy from hershe Parent, who lov'd the Bonne-Goust: One thing puzzled me above the rest, that she shou'd have an Ear for Musick, wou'd learn a Tune and Song by hearing it; but the Notes cou'd never be beat into her, to bid her sing such or such a thing, was saying nothing to her; but if you began first, she immediately follow'd, and whatever was in her Power, she certainly perform'd justly and harmoniously, for her Voice was very good, though the Motion was never spontaneous in her; she wou'd also trip about to Musick, or by an imperfect Imitation of others, but her Danceing-Master with all his Endeavours, cou'd make nothing of her. It was with [end page 45] a wonderful Diligence and long Application, that she was brought to know her Letters, as Parrots talk, by Rote, but cou'd not read 'em, so that it was of little or no Use to her; and as to Writing, or Working with her Needle, all their Endeavours were successless; yet was her Mother so infatuated or proud, she either did not see, or wou'd not own these melancholly Defects in the fair Agnes, but never forbore to extol her Beauty, and to adorn that Beauty in all the Ornaments of modish Dress. 'Tis true, her Father was more reasonable, or less pre-possess'd; one cou'd not have so much of ill Nature, or so little of Manners, to entertain a Parent upon so melancholly a Subject, or else he cou'd not but have given us great Lights into this irregular Work of Nature, by the Observations he doubtless made of her Childhood; but how curious soever I was, I forbore to discourse him upon so ingrateful a Theme, having often found him too sensible of his Misfortune, and at her awkard Performance of many Things, wish her dead, and laid at Rest in her Grave.
(pp. 43-6)