"She was fully persuaded, that at first she had made a terrible breach in his heart; but hearing nothing more of him, she supposed that he had quitted the pursuit, disgusted by the lowness of her origin, and knowing upon other terms than marriage he had nothing to hope from such a dragon of virtue as she professed herself; or else, that being naturally capricious and changeable, the remembrance of her charms had been effaced from the Condé's heart by those of some newer beauty."

— Lewis, Matthew Gregory (1775-1818)


Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for J. Bell
Date
1796
Metaphor
"She was fully persuaded, that at first she had made a terrible breach in his heart; but hearing nothing more of him, she supposed that he had quitted the pursuit, disgusted by the lowness of her origin, and knowing upon other terms than marriage he had nothing to hope from such a dragon of virtue as she professed herself; or else, that being naturally capricious and changeable, the remembrance of her charms had been effaced from the Condé's heart by those of some newer beauty."
Metaphor in Context
[...] Fortune here stood the monk's friend. On Leonella's return home, she found a letter instructing her, that a cousin was just dead, who had left what little he possessed between herself and Elvira. To secure this bequest she was obliged to set out for Cordova without losing a moment. Amidst all her foibles, her heart was truly warm and affectionate, and she was unwilling to quit her sister in so dangerous a state. But Elvira insisted upon her taking the journey, conscious that in her daughter's forlorn situation, no increase of fortune, however trifling, ought to be neglected. Accordingly Leonella left Madrid, sincerely grieved at her sister's illness, and giving some few sighs to the memory of the amiable but inconstant Don Christoval. She was fully persuaded, that at first she had made a terrible breach in his heart; but hearing nothing more of him, she supposed that he had quitted the pursuit, disgusted by the lowness of her origin, and knowing upon other terms than marriage he had nothing to hope from such a dragon of virtue as she professed herself; or else, that being naturally capricious and changeable, the remembrance of her charms had been effaced from the Condé's heart by those of some newer beauty. Whatever was the cause of her losing him, she lamented it sorely. She strove in vain, as she assured every body who was kind enough to listen to her, to tear his image from her too susceptible heart. She affected the airs of a love sick virgin, and carried them all to the most ridiculous excess. She heaved lamentable sighs, walked with her arms folded, uttered long soliloquies, and her discourse generally turned upon some forsaken maid, who expired of a broken heart! Her fiery looks were always ornamented with a garland of willow. Every evening she was seen straying upon the banks of a rivulet by moonlight; and she declared herself a violent admirer of murmuring streams and nightingales--
(II, pp. 222-3)
Provenance
ECCO-TCP
Citation
12 entries in ESTC (1795, 1796, 1797, 1798, 1799, 1800).

See The Monk: A Romance. In Three Volumes. (London: Printed for J. Bell, 1796). <Link to ESTC><Link to Vol. I in ECCO-TCP><Vol. II><Vol. III>

Pre-published as The Monk: A Romance. In Three Volumes. (London: Printed for J. Bell, 1795). <Link to ESTC>

See also the substantially revised fourth edition: Ambrosio, or the monk: a romance. By M.G. Lewis, Esq. M.P. In three volumes. The fourth edition, with considerable additions and alterations. (London: Printed for J. Bell, 1798). <Link to ESTC>
Date of Entry
03/12/2014

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