"[B]ut now that I looked upon myself as a murderer, it is impossible to express the terrors of my imagination, which was incessantly haunted by the image of the deceased, and my bosom stung with the most exquisite agonies, of which I saw no end."

— Smollett, Tobias (1721-1777)


Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for J. Osborn
Date
1748
Metaphor
"[B]ut now that I looked upon myself as a murderer, it is impossible to express the terrors of my imagination, which was incessantly haunted by the image of the deceased, and my bosom stung with the most exquisite agonies, of which I saw no end."
Metaphor in Context
After this event my rage abated, and my hate became more deliberate and calm; when one day, my landlady informed me that there was a gentleman below who desired to see me, having something of consequence to impart, which he was sure would contribute to my peace of mind.--I was exceedingly alarmed at this declaration, which I attempted to interpret a thousand ways; and before I came to any determination he entered my room, with an apology for intruding upon me against my knowledge or consent.--I surveyed him some time, but could not remember to have seen him before; then with a faultering accent, demanded what was his business with me?--Upon which, he desired I would give him a particular audience, and he did not doubt of communicating something that would conduce to my satisfaction and repose. As I thought myself sufficiently guarded against any violence, I granted his request, and bid the woman withdraw. --The stranger then advancing, gave me to understand that he was well acquainted with the particulars of my story, having been informed of them from Lothario's own mouth--that from the time he knew my misfortunes, he had entertained a detestation for the author of them; which had of late been increased and inflamed to a desire of revenge, by a piece of dishonourable conduct towards him --that hearing of my melancholy situation, he had come with an intention of offering his assistance and comfort, and was ready to espouse my quarrel and forthwith take vengeance on my seducer, provided I would grant him one consideration, which (he hoped) I should see no reason to refuse.--Had all the artifice of hell been employed in composing a persuasive, it could not have had a more instantaneous or favourable effect than this discourse had upon me.--I was transported with a delirium of gloomy joy; I hugged my companion in my arms, and vowed that if he would make good his promise, my soul and body should be at his disposal.--The contract was made; he devoted himself to my revenge, undertook to murder Lothario that very night, and to bring me an account of his death before morning.--Accordingly, about two of the clock, he was introduced to my chamber, and assured me my perfidious lover was no more; that although he was not entitled to such an honourable proceeding, he had fairly challenged him to the field, where he upbraided him with his treachery towards me, for whom (he told him) his sword was drawn, and after a few passes, left him weltering in his blood.--I was so savaged by my wrongs, that I delighted in the recital of this adventure, made him repeat the particulars, feasted my eyes with the blood that remained on his cloaths and sword, and yielded up my body as a recompence for the service he had done me. My imagination was so engrossed by these ideas, that in my sleep I dreamed Lothario appeared before me, pale, mangled and bloody, blamed my rashness, protested his innocence, and pleaded his own cause so pathetically, that I was convinced of his fidelity, and waked in a fit of horror and remorse.--My bed-fellow endeavoured to sooth, console, and persuade me that I had but barely done justice to myself.--I dropt asleep again, and the same apparition recurred to my fancy.--In short, I passed the night in great misery, and looked upon my avenger with such abhorrence, that in the morning, perceiving my aversion, he insinuated there was still a possibility of Lothario's recovery; it was true, he left him wounded on the ground, but not quite dead; and perhaps his hurts might not be mortal.--At these words I started up, bid him fly for intelligence, and if he could not bring me tidings of Lothario's safety, at least consult his own and never return, for I was resolved to surrender myself to justice, and declare all that I knew of the affair, that, if possible, I might expiate my own guilt, by incurring the rigours of a sincere repentance and ignominious death.--He very coolly represented the unreasonableness of my prejudice against him, who had done nothing but what his love of me inspired, and honour justified;--that now he had at the risk of his life, been subservient to my revenge, I was about to discard him as an infamous agent occasionally necessary: and that even if he should be so lucky as to bring news of Lothario's safety, it was probable my former resentment might revive, and I would upbraid him with having failed in his undertaking.--I assured him that, on the contrary, he would be dearer to me than ever, as I should be convinced he acted more on the principles of a man of honour, than on those of a mercenary assassin, and scorned to take away the life of an adversary (how inveterate soever) which fortune had put in his power.--"Well then, madam, (said he) whatever may have happened, I shall find it no difficult to satisfy you in that."--And took his leave, in order to enquire into the consequences of his duel. --I was now more sensible than ever of the degrees of guilt and misery; all the affliction I had suffered hitherto was owing to my own credulity and weakness, and my conscience could only accuse me of venal crimes; but now that I looked upon myself as a murderer, it is impossible to express the terrors of my imagination, which was incessantly haunted by the image of the deceased, and my bosom stung with the most exquisite agonies, of which I saw no end.--At length, Horatio (for so I shall call my keeper) returned, and telling me I had nothing to fear, delivered into my hands a billet containing these word
Provenance
Searching "haunt" and "imagination" in HDIS (Prose)
Citation
Over 45 entries in ESTC (1748, 1749, 1750, 1755, 1760, 1762, 1763, 1766, 1768, 1770, 1772, 1773, 1774, 1775, 1777, 1778, 1779, 1780, 1783, 1784, 1786, 1787, 1790, 1791, 1792, 1793, 1794, 1795, 1797, 1799, 1800).

Smollett, Tobias. The Adventures of Roderick Random. In Two Volumes. (London: printed for J. Osborn, 1748). <Link to ECCO>
Date of Entry
04/27/2004
Date of Review
07/27/2011

The Mind is a Metaphor is authored by Brad Pasanek, Assistant Professor of English, University of Virginia.