"You know, my Dear, how gloomy the Prospect was Yesterday before our Eyes, how inevitable Ruin stared me in the Face; and the dreadful Idea of having entailed Beggary on my Amelia and her Posterity racked my Mind."
— Fielding, Henry (1707-1754)
Author
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for A. Millar
Date
1752
Metaphor
"You know, my Dear, how gloomy the Prospect was Yesterday before our Eyes, how inevitable Ruin stared me in the Face; and the dreadful Idea of having entailed Beggary on my Amelia and her Posterity racked my Mind."
Metaphor in Context
The next Morning early, Booth went by Appointment and waited on Colonel James; whence he returned to Amelia, in that Kind of Disposition which the great Master of human Passions would describe in Andromache, when he tells us she cried and smiled at the same Instant.
Amelia plainly perceived the Discomposure of his Mind, in which the opposite Affections of Joy and Grief were struggling for the Superiority, and begged to know the Occasion; upon which Booth spoke as follows.
'My Dear,' said he, 'I had no Intention to conceal from you what hath past this Morning between me and the Colonel, who hath oppressed me, if I may use that Expression, with Obligations. Sure never Man had such a Friend; for never was there so noble, so generous a Heart---I cannot help this Ebullition of Gratitude, I really can not.' --Here he paused a Moment and wiped his Eyes, and then proceeded; 'You know, my Dear, how gloomy the Prospect was Yesterday before our Eyes, how inevitable Ruin stared me in the Face; and the dreadful Idea of having entailed Beggary on my Amelia and her Posterity racked my Mind: For, tho' by the Goodness of the Doctor I had regained my Liberty, the Debt yet remained; and if that worthy Man had a Design of forgiving me his Share, this must have been my utmost Hope; and the Condition in which I must still have found myself need not to be expatiated on. In what Light then shall I see, in what Words shall I relate the Colonel's Kindness! O, my dear Amelia, he hath removed the whole Gloom at once, hath driven all Despair out of my Mind, and hath filled it with the most sanguine, and at the same Time, the most reasonable Hopes of making a comfortable Provision for yourself and my dear Children. (III.ix.4)
Amelia plainly perceived the Discomposure of his Mind, in which the opposite Affections of Joy and Grief were struggling for the Superiority, and begged to know the Occasion; upon which Booth spoke as follows.
'My Dear,' said he, 'I had no Intention to conceal from you what hath past this Morning between me and the Colonel, who hath oppressed me, if I may use that Expression, with Obligations. Sure never Man had such a Friend; for never was there so noble, so generous a Heart---I cannot help this Ebullition of Gratitude, I really can not.' --Here he paused a Moment and wiped his Eyes, and then proceeded; 'You know, my Dear, how gloomy the Prospect was Yesterday before our Eyes, how inevitable Ruin stared me in the Face; and the dreadful Idea of having entailed Beggary on my Amelia and her Posterity racked my Mind: For, tho' by the Goodness of the Doctor I had regained my Liberty, the Debt yet remained; and if that worthy Man had a Design of forgiving me his Share, this must have been my utmost Hope; and the Condition in which I must still have found myself need not to be expatiated on. In what Light then shall I see, in what Words shall I relate the Colonel's Kindness! O, my dear Amelia, he hath removed the whole Gloom at once, hath driven all Despair out of my Mind, and hath filled it with the most sanguine, and at the same Time, the most reasonable Hopes of making a comfortable Provision for yourself and my dear Children. (III.ix.4)
Categories
Provenance
HDIS
Citation
13 entries in ESTC (1752, 1762, 1771, 1775, 1777, 1780, 1790, 1793).
See Amelia. By Henry Fielding, 4 vols. (London: A. Millar, 1752). <Link to ECCO>
Reading Henry Fielding, Amelia, ed. David Blewett (London: Penguin Books, 1987).
See Amelia. By Henry Fielding, 4 vols. (London: A. Millar, 1752). <Link to ECCO>
Reading Henry Fielding, Amelia, ed. David Blewett (London: Penguin Books, 1987).
Date of Entry
05/29/2003
