Evelina: Or, The History of A Young Lady's Entrance into the World

By Fanny Burney

Raised in seclusion until her seventeenth birthday, Evelina is exposed to London society for the first time while in the company of the fashionable Lady Howard. Evelina’s lack of aristocratic upbringing quickly becomes apparent, but undaunted by her lack of awareness of the customs and conventions of eighteenth-century London, Evelina strives to win the love of established nobleman Lord Orville.

Published anonymously, Frances Burney’s Evelina is a satirical novel that conveys one young woman’s coming-of-age in highly aggressive, and fashionable eighteenth-century society. Evelina’s innocent commentary perfectly depicts the isolating effect of these customs, while also criticizing them, and provides shrewd commentary on the spectacle and formalities of English society.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Release date: Apr 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781443433976

Fanny Burney

Frances Burney (Fanny Burney) was a British novelist who wrote four novels, eight plays, and one biography in her lifetime, and left behind 20 volumes of journals and letters after her death. Self-educated, Burney began writing at the age of 10, and published her first novel, Evelina, anonymously in 1778. Burney followed Evelina's success with Cecilia, Camilla, and The Wanderer, all of which explored the lives of English aristocrats and the role of women in society. Burney’s novels were enormously popular during her lifetime, inspiring both Jane Austen and William Makepeace Thackeray, and her journals are recognized for their uncommonly accurate and candid portrayal of 18th-century England. Burney died in Bath, England, in 1840.

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EVELINA

or The History of a Young Lady’s Entrance Into the World

Frances Burney

HarperPerennialClassicsLogo.jpg

CONTENTS

Inscription

Dedication—To the Authors of the Monthly and Critical Reviews

Preface

Letter I—Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter II—Mr. Villars to Lady Howard

Letter III—Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter IV—Mr. Villars to Lady Howard

Letter V—Mr. Villars to Lady Howard

Letter VI—Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter VII—Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter VIII—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter IX—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter X—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XI—Evelina in continuation

Letter XII—Evelina in continuation

Letter XIII—Evelina in continuation

Letter XIV—Evelina in continuation

Letter XV—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter XVI—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XVII—Evelina in continuation

Letter XVIII—Evelina in continuation

Letter XIX—Evelina in continuation

Letter XX—Evelina in continuation

Letter XXI—Evelina in continuation

Letter XXII—Evelina in continuation

Letter XXIII—Evelina in continuation

Letter XXIV—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter XXV—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XXVI—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XXVII—Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XXVIII—Mr. Villars to Lady Howard

Letter XXIX—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter XXX—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XXXI—Lady Howard to Sir John Belmont, Bart

Letter XXXII—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XXXIII—Evelina in continuation

Letter XXXIV—Evelina in continuation

Letter XXXV—Sir John Belmont to Lady Howard

Letter XXXVI—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XXXVII—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter XXXVIII—Mr. Villars to Lady Howard

Letter XXXIX—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter XL—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XLI—Evelina to Miss Mirvan

Letter XLII—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XLIII—Evelina in continuation

Letter XLIV—Evelina in continuation

Letter XLV—Evelina in continuation

Letter XLVI—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XLVII—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter XLVIII—Evelina in continuation

Letter XLIX—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter L—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter LI—Evelina in continuation

Letter LII—Evelina in continuation

Letter LIII—Evelina in continuation

Letter LIV—Evelina in continuation

Letter LV—Evelina in continuation

Letter LVI—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter LVII—Evelina to Miss Mirvan

Letter LVIII—Evelina in continuation

Letter LIX—Evelina in continuation

Letter LX—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXI—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXII—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter LXIII—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXIV—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXV—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXVI—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXVII—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter LXVIII—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter LXIX—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXX—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXXI—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXXII—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXXIII—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter LXXIV—Lady Belmont to Sir John Belmont

Letter LXXV—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Letter LXXVI—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXXVII—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXXVIII—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXXIX—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXXX—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXXXI—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXXXII—Evelina in continuation

Letter LXXXIII—Mr. Villars to Evelina

Letter LXXXIV—Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Notes

About the Author

About the Series

Copyright

About the Publisher

Inscription

TO DR. BURNEY

Oh, Author of my being!—far more dear

To me than light, than nourishment, or rest,

Hygeia’s blessings, Rapture’s burning tear,

Or the life-blood that mantles in my breast!

If in my heart the love of Virtue glows,

’Twas planted there by an unerring rule;

From thy example the pure flame arose,

Thy life, my precept—thy good works, my school.

Could my weak pow’rs thy num’rous virtues trace,

By filial love each fear should be repress’d;

The blush of Incapacity I’d chace,

And stand, Recorder of thy worth, confess’d:

But since my niggard stars that gift refuse,

Concealment is the only boon I claim;

Obscure be still the unsuccessful Muse,

Who cannot raise, but would not sink, thy fame.

Oh! of my life at once the source and joy!

If e’er thy eyes these feeble lines survey,

Let not their folly their intent destroy;

Accept the tribute—but forget the lay.

Dedication

To the Authors of the Monthly and Critical Reviews

Gentlemen,

The liberty which I take in addressing to you the trifling production of a few idle hours, will doubtless move your wonder, and probably your contempt. I will not, however, with the futility of apologies, intrude upon your time, but briefly acknowledge the motives of my temerity; lest, by a premature exercise of that patience which I hope will befriend me, I should lessen its benevolence, and be accessary to my own condemnation.

Without name, without recommendation, and unknown alike to success and disgrace, to whom can I so properly apply for patronage, as to those who publicly profess themselves Inspectors of all literary performances?

The extensive plan of your critical observations—which, not confined to works of utility or ingenuity, is equally open to those of frivolous amusement—and, yet worse than frivolous, dullness—encourages me to seek for your protection, since—perhaps for my sins!—it entitles me to your annotations. To resent, therefore, this offering, however insignificant, would ill become the universality of your undertaking; though not to despise it may, alas! be out of your power.

The language of adulation, and the incense of flattery, though the natural inheritance, and constant resource, from time immemorial, of the Dedicator, to me offer nothing but the wistful regret that I dare not invoke their aid. Sinister views would be imputed to all I could say; since, thus situated, to extol your judgment, would seem the effect of art, and to celebrate your impartiality, be attributing to suspecting it.

As magistrates of the press, and Censors for the public—to which you are bound by the sacred ties of integrity to exert the most spirited impartiality, and to which your suffrages should carry the marks of pure, dauntless, irrefragable truth—to appeal to your MERCY, were to solicit your dishonour; and therefore—though ’tis sweeter than frankincense,—more grateful to the senses than all the odorous perfumes of Arabia,—and though

It droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath—

I court it not! to your justice alone I am entitled, and by that I must abide. Your engagements are not to the supplicating authors; but to the candid public, which will not fail to crave

The penalty and forfeit of your bond.

No hackneyed writer, inured to abuse, and callous to criticism, here braves your severity;—neither does a half-starved garretteer,

Oblig’d by hunger—and request of friends,—

implore your lenity: your examination will be alike unbiased by partiality and prejudice;—no refractory murmuring will follow your censure, no private interest will be gratified by your praise.

Let not the anxious solicitude with which I recommend myself to your notice, expose me to your derision. Remember, gentlemen, you were all young writers once, and the most experienced veteran of your corps may, by recollecting his first publication, renovate his first terrors, and learn to allow for mine. For though Courage is one of the noblest virtues of this nether sphere; and though scarcely more requisite in the field of battle, to guard the fighting hero from disgrace, than in the private commerce of the world, to ward off that littleness of soul which leads, by steps imperceptible, to all the base train of the inferior passions, and by which the too timid mind is betrayed into a servility derogatory to the dignity of human nature! yet is it a virtue of no necessity in a situation such as mine; a situation which removes, even from cowardice itself, the sting of ignominy;—for surely that courage may easily be dispensed with, which would rather excite disgust than admiration! Indeed, it is the peculiar privilege of an author, to rob terror of contempt, and pusillanimity of reproach.

Here let me rest—and snatch myself, while I yet am able, from the fascination of EGOTISM:—a monster who has more votaries than ever did homage to the most popular deity of antiquity; and whose singular quality is, that while he excites a blind and involuntary adoration in almost every individual, his influence is universally disallowed, his power universally contemned, and his worship, even by his followers, never mentioned but with abhorrence.

In addressing you jointly, I mean but to mark the generous sentiments by which liberal criticism, to the utter annihilation of envy, jealousy, and all selfish views, ought to be distinguished.

I have the honour to be, gentlemen, your most obedient Humble Servant,

* * * * * * *

Preface

In the republic of letters, there is no member of such inferior rank, or who is so much disdained by his brethren of the quill, as the humble Novelist; nor is his fate less hard in the world at large, since, among the whole class of writers, perhaps not one can be named of which the votaries are more numerous but less respectable.

Yet, while in the annals of those few of our predecessors, to whom this species of writing is indebted for being saved from contempt, and rescued from depravity, we can trace such names as Rousseau, Johnson, [1] Marivaux, Fielding, Richardson, and Smollett, no man need blush at starting from the same post, though many, nay, most men, may sigh at finding themselves distanced.

The following letters are presented to the Public—for such, by novel writers, novel readers will be called,—with a very singular mixture of timidity and confidence, resulting from the peculiar situation of the editor; who, though trembling for their success from a consciousness of their imperfections, yet fears not being involved in their disgrace, while happily wrapped up in a mantle of impenetrable obscurity.

To draw characters from nature, though not from life, and to mark the manners of the times, is the attempted plan of the following letters. For this purpose, a young female, educated in the most secluded retirement, makes, at the age of seventeen, her first appearance upon the great and busy stage of life; with a virtuous mind, a cultivated understanding, and a feeling heart, her ignorance of the forms, and inexperience in the manners of the world, occasion all the little incidents which these volumes record, and which form the natural progression of the life of a young woman of obscure birth, but conspicuous beauty, for the first six months after her ENTRANCE INTO THE WORLD.

Perhaps, were it possible to effect the total extirpation of novels, our young ladies in general, and boarding-school damsels in particular, might profit from their annihilation; but since the distemper they have spread seems incurable, since their contagion bids defiance to the medicine of advice or reprehension, and since they are found to baffle all the mental art of physic, save what is prescribed by the slow regimen of Time, and bitter diet of Experience; surely all attempts to contribute to the number of those which may be read, if not with advantage, at least without injury, ought rather to be encouraged than contemned.

Let me, therefore, prepare for disappointment those who, in the perusal of these sheets, entertain the gentle expectation of being transported to the fantastic regions of Romance, where Fiction is coloured by all the gay tints of luxurious Imagination, where Reason is an outcast, and where the sublimity of the Marvellous rejects all aid from sober Probability. The heroine of these memoirs, young, artless, and inexperienced, is

No faultless Monster that the world ne’er saw;

but the offspring of Nature, and of Nature in her simplest attire.

In all the arts, the value of copies can only be proportioned to the scarcity of originals: among sculptors and painters, a fine statue, or a beautiful picture, of some great master, may deservedly employ the imitative talents of young and inferior artists, that their appropriation to one spot may not wholly prevent the more general expansion of their excellence; but, among authors, the reverse is the case, since the noblest productions of literature are almost equally attainable with the meanest. In books, therefore, imitation cannot be shunned too sedulously; for the very perfection of a model which is frequently seen, serves but more forcibly to mark the inferiority of a copy.

To avoid what is common, without adopting what is unnatural, must limit the ambition of the vulgar herd of authors: however zealous, therefore, my veneration of the great writers I have mentioned, however I may feel myself enlightened by the knowledge of Johnson, charmed with the eloquence of Rousseau, softened by the pathetic powers of Richardson, and exhilarated by the wit of Fielding and humour of Smollett, I yet presume not to attempt pursuing the same ground which they have tracked; whence, though they may have cleared the weeds, they have also culled the flowers; and, though they have rendered the path plain, they have left it barren.

The candour of my readers I have not the impertinence to doubt, and to their indulgence I am sensible I have no claim; I have, therefore, only to entreat, that my own words may not pronounce my condemnation; and that what I have here ventured to say in regard to imitation, may be understood as it is meant, in a general sense, and not be imputed to an opinion of my own originality, which I have not the vanity, the folly, or the blindness, to entertain.

Whatever may be the fate of these letters, the editor is satisfied they will meet with justice; and commits them to the press, though hopeless of fame, yet not regardless of censure.

Letter I

Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Howard Grove, Kent

Can anything, my good sir, be more painful to a friendly mind, than a necessity of communicating disagreeable intelligence? Indeed it is sometimes difficult to determine, whether the relator or the receiver of evil tidings is most to be pitied.

I have just had a letter from Madame Duval; she is totally at a loss in what manner to behave; she seems desirous to repair the wrongs she has done, yet wishes the world to believe her blameless. She would fain cast upon another the odium of those misfortunes for which she alone is answerable. Her letter is violent, sometimes abusive, and that of you!—you, to whom she is under obligations which are greater even than her faults, but to whose advice she wickedly imputes all the sufferings of her much injured daughter, the late Lady Belmont. The chief purport of her writing I will acquaint you with; the letter itself is not worthy your notice.

She tells me that she has, for many years past, been in continual expectation of making a journey to England, which prevented her writing for information concerning this melancholy subject, by giving her hopes of making personal inquiries; but family occurrences have still detained her in France, which country she now sees no prospect of quitting. She has, therefore, lately used her utmost endeavors to obtain a faithful account of whatever related to her ill-advised daughter; the result of which giving her some reason to apprehend, that, upon her deathbed, she bequeathed an infant orphan to the world, she most graciously says, that if you, with whom she understands the child is placed, will procure authentic proofs of its relationship to her, you may sent it to Paris, where she will properly provide for it.

This woman is, undoubtedly, at length, self-convicted of her most unnatural behaviour; it is evident, from her writing, that she is still as vulgar and illiterate as when her first husband, Mr. Evelyn, had the weakness to marry her; nor does she at all apologize for addressing herself to me, though I was only once in her company.

Her letter has excited in my daughter Mirvan, a strong desire to be informed of the motives which induced Madame Duval to abandon the unfortunate Lady Belmont, at a time when a mother’s protection was peculiarly necessary for her peace and her reputation. Notwithstanding I was personally acquainted with all the parties concerned in that affair, the subject always appeared of too delicate a nature to be spoken of with the principals; I cannot, therefore, satisfy Mrs. Mirvan otherwise than by applying to you.

By saying that you may send the child, Madame Duval aims at conferring, where she most owes obligation. I pretend not to give you advice; you, to whose generous protection this helpless orphan is indebted for everything, are the best and only judge of what she ought to do; but I am much concerned at the trouble and uneasiness which this unworthy woman may occasion you.

My daughter and my grandchild join with me in desiring to be most kindly remembered to the amiable girl; and they bid me remind you, that the annual visit to Howard Grove, which we were formerly promised, has been discontinued for more than four years. I am, dear sir, with great regard,

Your most obedient friend and servant,

M. HOWARD

Letter II

Mr. Villars to Lady Howard

Berry Hill, Dorsetshire

Your ladyship did but too well foresee the perplexity and uneasiness of which Madame Duval’s letter has been productive. However, I ought rather to be thankful that I have so many years remained unmolested, than repine at my present embarrassment; since it proves, at least, that this wretched woman is at length awakened to remorse.

In regard to my answer, I must humbly request your ladyship to write to this effect: That I would not, upon any account, intentionally offend Madame Duval; but that I have weighty, nay unanswerable reasons for detaining her granddaughter at present in England; the principal of which is, that it was the earnest desire of one to whose will she owes implicit duty. Madame Duval may be assured, that she meets with the utmost attention and tenderness; that her education, however short of my wishes, almost exceeds my abilities; and I flatter myself, when the time arrives that she shall pay her duty to her grandmother, Madame Duval will find no reason to be dissatisfied with what has been done for her.

Your ladyship will not, I am sure, be surprised at this answer. Madame Duval is by no means a proper companion or guardian for a young woman: she is at once uneducated and unprincipled; ungentle in temper, and unamiable in her manners. I have long known that she has persuaded herself to harbour an aversion for me—Unhappy woman! I can only regard her as an object of pity!

I dare not hesitate at a request from Mrs. Mirvan; yet, in complying with it, I shall, for her own sake, be as concise as I possibly can; since the cruel transactions which preceded the birth of my ward can afford no entertainment to a mind so humane as hers.

Your ladyship may probably have heard, that I had the honour to accompany Mr. Evelyn, the grandfather of my young charge, when upon his travels, in the capacity of a tutor. His unhappy marriage, immediately upon his return to England, with Madame Duval, then a waiting-girl at a tavern, contrary to the advice and entreaties of all his friends, among whom I was myself the most urgent, induced him to abandon his native land, and fix his abode in France. Thither he was followed by shame and repentance; feelings which his heart was not framed to support; for, notwithstanding he had been too weak to resist the allurements of beauty, which nature, though a niggard to her of every other boon, had with a lavish hand bestowed on his wife; yet he was a young man of excellent character, and, till thus unaccountably infatuated, of unblemished conduct. He survived this ill-judged marriage but two years. Upon his deathbed, with an unsteady hand, he wrote me the following note:

My friend, forget your resentment, in favour of your humanity;—a father, trembling for the welfare of his child, bequeaths her to your care. O Villars! hear! pity! And relieve me!

Had my circumstances permitted me, I should have answered these words by an immediate journey to Paris; but I was obliged to act by the agency of a friend, who was upon the spot, and present at the opening of the will.

Mr. Evelyn left to me a legacy of a thousand pounds, and the sole guardianship of his daughter’s person till her eighteenth year; conjuring me, in the most affecting terms, to take the charge of her education till she was able to act with propriety for herself; but, in regard to fortune, he left her wholly dependent on her mother, to whose tenderness he earnestly recommended her.

Thus, though he would not, to a woman low-bred and illiberal as Mrs. Evelyn, trust the conduct and morals of his daughter, he nevertheless thought proper to secure to her the respect and duty to which, from her own child, were certainly her due; but unhappily, it never occurred to him that the mother, on her part, could fail in affection or justice.

Miss Evelyn, madam, from the second to the eighteenth year of her life, was brought up under my care, and, except when at school under my roof. I need not speak to your ladyship of the virtues of that excellent young creature. She loved me as her father; nor was Mrs. Villars less valued by her; while to me she became so dear, that her loss was little less afflicting than that which I have since sustained of Mrs. Villars herself.

At that period of her life we parted; her mother, then married to Monsieur Duval, sent for her to Paris. How often have I since regretted that I did not accompany her thither! Protected and supported by me, the misery and disgrace which awaited her might perhaps have been avoided. But, to be brief—Madame Duval, at the instigation of her husband, earnestly, or rather tyrannically, endeavoured to effect a union between Miss Evelyn and one of his nephews. And, when she found her power inadequate to her attempt, enraged at her non-compliance, she treated her with the grossest unkindness, and threatened her with poverty and ruin.

Miss Evelyn, to whom wrath and violence had hitherto been strangers, soon grew weary of such usage; and rashly, and without a witness, consented to a private marriage with Sir John Belmont, a very profligate young man, who had but too successfully found means to insinuate himself into her favour. He promised to conduct her to England—he did.—O, madam, you know the rest!—Disappointed of the fortune he expected, by the inexorable rancour of the Duvals, he infamously burnt the certificate of their marriage, and denied that they had ever been united.

She flew to me for protection. With what mixed transports of joy and anguish did I again see her! By my advice, she endeavoured to procure proofs of her marriage—but in vain; her credulity had been no match for his art.

Everybody believed her innocent, from the guiltless tenor of her unspotted youth, and from the known libertinism of her barbarous betrayer. Yet her sufferings were too acute for her slender frame; and the same moment that gave birth to her infant, put an end at once to the sorrows and the life of its mother.

The rage of Madame Duval at her elopement, abated not while this injured victim of cruelty yet drew breath. She probably intended, in time, to have pardoned her; but time was not allowed. When she was informed of her death, I have been told, that the agonies of grief and remorse, with which she was seized, occasioned her a severe fit of illness. But, from the time of her recovery to the date of her letter to your ladyship, I had never heard that she manifested any desire to be made acquainted with the circumstances which attended the death of Lady Belmont, and the birth of her helpless child.

That child, madam, shall never, while life is lent me, know the loss she has sustained. I have cherished, succoured, and supported her, from her earliest infancy to her sixteenth year; and so amply has she repaid my care and affection, that my fondest wish is now circumscribed by the desire of bestowing her on one who may be sensible of her worth, and then sinking to eternal rest in her arms.

Thus it has happened, that the education of the father, daughter, and granddaughter, has devolved on me. What infinite misery have the two first caused me! Should the fate of the dear survivor be equally adverse, how wretched will be the end of my cares—the end of my days!

Even had Madame Duval merited the charge she claims, I fear my fortitude would have been unequal to such a parting; but being such as she is, not only my affection, but my humanity, recoils, at the barbarous idea of deserting the sacred trust reposed in me. Indeed, I could but ill support her former yearly visits to the respectable mansion at Howard Grove: pardon me, dear madam, and do not think me insensible of the honour which your ladyship’s condescension confers upon us both; but so deep is the impression which the misfortunes of her mother have made on my heart, that she does not, even for a moment, quit my sight without exciting apprehensions and terrors which almost overpower me. Such, madam, is my tenderness, and such my weakness!—But she is the only tie I have upon earth, and I trust to your ladyship’s goodness not to judge of my feelings with severity.

I beg leave to present my humble respects to Mrs. and Miss Mirvan; and have the honour to be,

Madam, your ladyship’s most obedient and most humble servant,

ARTHUR VILLARS

Letter III

Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars (Written some months after the last)

Howard Grove, March 8th

Dear and Rev. Sir,

Your last letter gave me infinite pleasure: after so long and tedious an illness, how grateful to yourself and to your friends must be your returning health! You have the hearty wishes of every individual of this place for its continuance and increase.

Will you not think I take advantage of your acknowledged recovery, if I once more venture to mention your pupil and Howard Grove together? Yet you must remember the patience with which we submitted to your desire of not parting with her during the bad state of your health, tho’ it was with much reluctance we forbore to solicit her company. My granddaughter in particular, has scarce been able to repress her eagerness to again meet the friend of her infancy; and for my own part, it is very strongly my wish to manifest the regard I had for the unfortunate Lady Belmont, by proving serviceable to her child; which seems to me the best respect that can be paid to her memory. Permit me, therefore, to lay before you a plan which Mrs. Mirvan and I have formed, in consequence of your restoration to health.

I would not frighten you;—but do you think you could bear to part with your young companion for two or three months? Mrs. Mirvan proposes to spend the ensuing spring in London, whither for the first time, my grandchild will accompany her: Now, my good friend, it is very earnestly their wish to enlarge and enliven their party by the addition of your amiable ward, who would share, equally with her own daughter, the care and attention of Mrs. Mirvan. Do not start at this proposal; it is time that she should see something of the world. When young people are too rigidly sequestered from it, their lively and romantic imaginations paint it to them as a paradise of which they have been beguiled; but when they are shown it properly, and in due time, they see it such as it really is, equally shared by pain and pleasure, hope and disappointment.

You have nothing to apprehend from her meeting with Sir John Belmont, as that abandoned man is now abroad, and not expected home this year.

Well, my good sir, what say you to our scheme? I hope it will meet with your approbation; but if it should not, be assured I can never object to any decision of one who is so much respected and esteemed as Mr. Villars, by

His most faithful, humble servant,

M. HOWARD

Letter IV

Mr. Villars to Lady Howard

Berry Hill, March 12th

I am grieved, madam, to appear obstinate, and I blush to incur the imputation of selfishness. In detaining my young charge thus long with myself in the country, I consulted not solely my own inclination. Destined, in all probability, to possess a very moderate fortune, I wished to contract her views to something within it. The mind is but too naturally prone to pleasure, but too easily yielded to dissipation: it has been my study to guard her against their delusions, by preparing her to expect—and to despise them. But the time draws on for experience and observation to take the place of instruction: if I have in some measure, rendered her capable of using one with discretion, and making the other with improvement, I shall rejoice myself with the assurance of having largely contributed to her welfare. She is now of an age that happiness is eager to attend,—let her then enjoy it! I commit her to the protection of your ladyship, and only hope she may be found worthy half the goodness I am satisfied she will meet with at your hospitable mansion.

Thus far, madam, I cheerfully submit to your desire. In confiding my ward to the care of Lady Howard, I can feel no uneasiness from her absence, but what will arise from the loss of her company, since I shall be as well convinced of her safety as if she were under my own roof.—But can your ladyship be serious in proposing to introduce her to the gaieties of a London life? Permit me to ask, for what end, or for what purpose? A youthful mind is seldom totally free from ambition; to curb that, is the first step to contentment, since to diminish expectation is to increase enjoyment. I apprehend nothing more than too much raising her hopes and her views, which the natural vivacity of her disposition would render but too easy to effect. The town-acquaintance of Mrs. Mirvan are all in the circle of high life; this artless young creature, with too much beauty to escape notice, has too much sensibility to be indifferent to it; but she has too little wealth to be sought with propriety by men of the fashionable world.

Consider madam, the peculiar cruelty of her situation. Only child of a wealthy Baronet, whose person she has never seen, whose character she has reason to abhor, and whose name she is forbidden to claim; entitled as she is to lawfully inherit his fortune and estate, is there any probability that he will properly own her? And while he continues to persevere in disavowing his marriage with Miss Evelyn, she shall never, at the expense of her mother’s honour, receive a part of her right as the donation of his bounty.

And as to Mr. Evelyn’s estate, I have no doubt but that Madame Duval and her relations will dispose of it among themselves.

It seems, therefore, as if this deserted child, though legally heiress to two large fortunes, must owe all her rational expectations to adoption and friendship. Yet her income will be such as may make her happy, if she is disposed to be so in private life; though it will by no means allow her to enjoy the luxury of a London fine lady.

Let Miss Mirvan, then, madam, shine in all the splendour of high life; but suffer my child still to enjoy the pleasures of humble retirement, with a mind to which greater views are unknown.

I hope this reasoning will be honoured with your approbation; and I have yet another motive which has some weight with me: I would not willingly give offence to any human being; and surely Madame Duval might accuse me of injustice, if, while I refuse to let her granddaughter wait upon her, I consent that she should join a party of pleasure to London.

In sending her to Howard Grove, not one of these scruples arise; and therefore Mrs. Clinton, a most worthy woman, formerly her nurse, and now my housekeeper, shall attend her thither next week.

Though I have always called her by the name of Anville, and reported in this neighbourhood that her father, my intimate friend, left her to my guardianship; yet I have thought it necessary she should herself be acquainted with the melancholy circumstances attending her birth: for though I am very desirous of guarding her from curiosity and impertinence, by concealing her name, family, and story, yet I would not leave it in the power of chance to shock her gentle nature with a tale of so much sorrow.

You must not, madam, expect too much from my pupil; she is quite a little rustic, and knows nothing of the world; and though her education has been the best I could bestow in this retired place, to which Dorchester, the nearest town, is seven miles distant, yet I shall not be surprised if you should discover in her a thousand deficiencies of which I have never dreamt. She must be very much altered since she was last at Howard Grove. But I will say nothing of her; I leave her to your ladyship’s own observations, of which I beg a faithful relation; and am,

Dear madam, with great respect,

Your obedient and most humble Servant,

ARTHUR VILLARS

Letter V

Mr. Villars to Lady Howard

March 18th

Dear Madam,

This letter will be delivered to you by my child—the child of my adoption—my affection! Unblest with one natural friend, she merits a thousand. I send her to you innocent as an angel, and artless as purity itself; and I send you with her the heart of your friend, the only hope he has on earth, the subject of his tenderest thoughts, and the object of his latest cares. She is one, madam, for whom alone I have lately wished to live; and she is one whom to serve I would with transport die! Restore her but to me all innocence as you receive her, and the fondest hope of my heart will be amply gratified.

A. VILLARS

Letter VI

Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Howard Grove

Dear and Rev. Sir,

The solemn manner in which you have committed your child to my care, has in some measure damped the pleasure which I receive from the trust, as it makes me fear that you suffer from your compliance, in which case I shall very sincerely blame myself for the earnestness with which I have requested this favour: but remember, my good sir, she is within a few days summons; and be assured, I will not detain her a moment longer than you wish.

You desire my opinion of her.

She is a little angel! I cannot wonder that you sought to monopolize her: neither ought you, at finding it impossible.

Her face and person answer my most refined ideas of complete beauty: and this, though a subject of praise less important to you, or, to me than any other, is yet so striking, it is not possible to pass it unnoticed. Had I not known from whom she received her education, I should at first sight of so perfect a face, have been in pain for her understanding; since it has been long and justly remarked, that folly has ever sought alliance with beauty.

She has the same gentleness in her manners, the same natural graces in her motions, that I formerly so much admired in her mother. Her character seems truly ingenuous and simple; and at the same time that nature has blessed her with an excellent understanding and great quickness of parts, she has a certain air of inexperience and innocency that is extremely interesting.

You have not reason to regret the retirement in which she has lived; since that politeness which is acquired by an acquaintance with high life, is in her so well supplied by a natural desire of obliging, joined to a deportment infinitely engaging.

I observe, with great satisfaction, a growing affection between this amiable girl and my granddaughter, whose heart is as free from selfishness or conceit, as that of her young friend is from all guile. Their regard may be mutually useful, since much is to be expected from emulation where nothing is to be feared from envy. I would have them love each other as sisters, and reciprocally supply the place of that tender and happy relationship to which neither of them has a natural claim.

Be satisfied, my good sir, that your child shall meet with the same attention as our own. We all join in most hearty wishes for your health and happiness, and in returning our sincere thanks for the favour you have conferred on us.

I am, dear sir,

Your most faithful servant,

M. HOWARD

Letter VII

Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Howard Grove, March 26th

Be not alarmed, my worthy friend, at my so speedily troubling you again; I seldom use the ceremony of waiting for answers, or writing with any regularity, and I have at present immediate occasion for begging your patience.

Mrs. Mirvan has just received a letter from her long absent husband, containing the welcome news of his hoping to reach London by the beginning of next week. My daughter and the captain have been separated almost seven years, and it would therefore be needless to say what joy, surprise, and consequently confusion, his at present unexpected return has caused at Howard Grove. Mrs. Mirvan, you cannot doubt, will go instantly to town to meet him; her daughter is under a thousand obligations to attend her; I grieve that her mother cannot.

And now, my good sir, I almost blush to proceed;—but, tell me, may I ask—will you permit—that your child may accompany them? Do not think us unreasonable, but consider the many inducements which conspire to make London the happiest place at present she can be in. The joyful occasion of the journey; the gaiety of the whole party, opposed to the dull life she must lead, if left here with a solitary old woman for her sole companion, while she so well knows the cheerfulness and felicity enjoyed by the rest of the family,—are circumstances that seem to merit your consideration. Mrs. Mirvan desires me to assure you that one week is all she asks, as she is certain that the captain, who hates London, will be eager to revisit Howard Grove; and Maria is so very earnest in wishing to have the company of her friend, that, if you are inexorable, she will be deprived of half the pleasure she otherwise hopes to receive.

However, I will not, my good sir, deceive you into an opinion that they intend to live in a retired manner, as that cannot be fairly expected. But you have no reason to be uneasy concerning Madame Duval; she has not any correspondent in England, and obtains no intelligence but by common report. She must be a stranger to the name your child bears; and, even should she hear of this excursion, so short a time as a week or less spent in town upon so particular an occasion, though previous to their meeting, cannot be construed into disrespect to herself.

Mrs. Mirvan desires me to assure you, that if you will oblige her, her two children shall equally share her time and her attention. She has sent a commission to a friend in town to take a house for her; and while she waits for an answer concerning it, I shall for one from you to our petition. However, your child is writing herself; and that, I doubt not, will more avail than all we can possible urge.

My daughter desires her best compliments to you if, she says, you will grant her request but not else.

Adieu, my dear sir, we all hope everything from your goodness.

M. HOWARD

Letter VIII

Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Howard Grove, March 26th

This house seems to be the house of joy; every face wears a smile, and a laugh is at every body’s service. It is quite amusing to walk about and see the general confusion; a room leading to the garden is fitting up for Captain Mirvan’s study. Lady Howard does not sit a moment in a place; Miss Mirvan is making caps; everybody so busy!—such flying from room to room!—so many orders given, and retracted, and given again! nothing but hurry and perturbation.

Well but, my dear sir, I am desired to make a request to you. I hope you will not think me an encroacher; Lady Howard insists upon my writing!—yet I hardly know how to go on; a petition implies a want and have you left me one? No, indeed.

I am half ashamed of myself for beginning this letter. But these dear ladies are so pressing—I cannot, for my life, resist wishing for the pleasures they offer me,—provided you do not disapprove them.

They are to make a very short stay in town. The captain will meet them in a day or two. Mrs. Mirvan and her sweet daughter both go; what a happy party! Yet, I am not very eager to accompany them: at least I shall be contented to remain where I am, if you desire that I should.

Assured, my dearest sir, of your goodness, your bounty, and your indulgent kindness, ought I to form a wish that has not your sanction? Decide for me, therefore, without the least apprehension that I shall be uneasy or discontented. While I am yet in suspense, perhaps I may hope; but I am most certain that when you have once determined I shall not repine.

They tell me that London is now in full splendour. Two playhouses are open—the opera house—Ranelagh—and the Pantheon. You see I have learned all their names. However, pray don’t suppose that I make any point of going, for I shall hardly sigh, to see them depart without me, though I shall probably never meet with such another opportunity. And, indeed, their domestic happiness will be so great,—it is natural to wish to partake of it.

I believe I am bewitched! I made a resolution, when I began, that I would not be urgent; but my pen—or rather my thoughts, will not suffer me to keep it—for I acknowledge, I must acknowledge, I cannot help wishing for your permission.

I almost repent already that I have made this confession; pray forget that you have read it, if this journey is displeasing to you. But I will not write any longer; for the more I think of this affair, the less indifferent to it I find myself.

Adieu, my most honoured, most reverenced, most beloved father! for by what other name can I call you? I have no happiness or sorrow, no hope or fear, but what your kindness bestows, or your displeasure may cause. You will not, I am sure, send a refusal without reasons unanswerable, and therefore I shall cheerfully acquiesce. Yet I hope—I hope you will be able to permit me to go!

I am, with the utmost affection, gratitude, and duty, your

EVELINA—

I cannot to you sign Anville, and what other name may I claim?

Letter IX

Mr. Villars to Evelina

Berry Hill, March 28th

To resist the urgency of entreaty, is a power which I have not yet acquired: I aim not at an authority which deprives you of liberty, yet I would fain guide myself by a prudence which should save me the pangs of repentance. Your impatience to fly to a place which your imagination has painted to you in colors so attractive, surprises me not; I have only to hope, that the liveliness of your fancy may not deceive you: to refuse, would be raising it still higher. To see my Evelina happy, is to see myself without a wish: go, then my child; and may that Heaven, which alone can direct, preserve and strengthen you! To that, my love, will I daily offer prayers for your felicity. O may it guard, watch over you, defend you from danger, save you from distress, and keep vice as distant from your person as from your heart! And to me, may it grant, the ultimate blessing of closing these aged eyes in the arms of one so dear—so deservedly beloved!

ARTHUR VILLARS

Letter X

Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

Queen Ann Street, London, Saturday, April 2nd

This moment arrived. Just going to Drury Lane Theatre. The celebrated Mr. Garrick performs Ranger. I am quite in ecstasy. So is Miss Mirvan. How fortunate that he should happen to play! We would not let Mrs. Mirvan rest till she consented to go. Her chief objection was to our dress, for we have had no time to Londonize ourselves; but we teased her into compliance, and so we are to sit in some obscure place that she may not be seen. As to me, I should be alike unknown in the most conspicuous or most private part of the house.

I can write no more now. I have hardly time to breathe-only just this, the houses and streets are not quite so superb as I expected. However, I have seen nothing yet, so I ought not to judge.

Well; adieu, my dearest sir, for the present; I could not forbear writing a few words instantly on my arrival, though I suppose my letter of thanks for your consent is still on the road.

Saturday Night.

O, my dear sir, in what raptures am I returned? Well may Mr. Garrick be so celebrated, so universally admired—I had not any idea of so great a performer.

Such ease! such vivacity in his manner! such grace in his motions! such fire and meaning in his eyes!—I could hardly believe he had studied a written part, for every word seemed to be uttered from the impulse of the moment.

His action—at once so graceful and so free!—his voice—so clear, so melodious, yet so wonderfully various in its tones!—Such animation!—every look speaks!

I would have given the world to have had the whole play acted over again. And when he danced—O, how I envied

Reviews for Evelina

[lukes_171461 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I read "Evelina" because of Miss Burney's supposed influence on Jane Austen. I found a comedy of manners, all right, but the comedy was pedestrian, the motivations nothing like those in Austen, the characterizations quite lacking when compared to Austen's.I know it does no favor to compare something to Austen, but given the context, I make free to do so. Burney's humor is a one-note plink to Austen's rich and concordant arpeggio.

[limelite_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Evelina does not wear well with time, unlike Austen heroines. In fact, Evelina herself is very wearing. She is prone to tongue-tied shyness (which comes across as vapidity); she is utterly dependent on others for her opinions (Elizabeth Bennett would kick her to the curb); she prefers to faint, blush, weep, and vacillate between humiliating embarrassment and embarrassing humiliation than assert herself or withstand an importunity (Emma would wash her hands of her).What possessed Ms Burney to ever try to make a heroine out of such unheroic material, I don't know. How she contrives to get (or if she ever does get) Evelina, the perpetual ingenue into competent adulthood I don't know either, because I'm 70% through the book and am feeling the feelings that Elizabeth and Emma would feel.I am not surprised that the world of literature did little note nor long remember Evelina's entrance into it when the likes of Elizabeth and Emma made their respective entrances.

[jvioland_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I rated this a solid "B" after I read it. Now, less than 2 years later, I cannot recall a single thing about it.

[hemlokgang · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Delightful, satirical, melodramatic, comical....all of these adjectives accurately describe Frances Burney's feminine 18th century coming of age tale. Our protagonist, the naive, pure Evelina enters the brash, hypocritical, backstabbing, and often dangerous society world after a very sheltered childhood. The plot unfolds via correspondence between characters and moves rapidly between settings, plot twists, appalling behavior and satirical commentary of the social mores of the time. Wonderful read. It's one of those during which 400 pages fly by!

[libbromus · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Wow. This book had me enthralled, staying up all hours of the night, turning page after page. The labyrinthine predicaments in which a young woman could find herself ensnared in the 18th century were dazzling and ghastly! Men are sinners or saints in this book and the sinners are truly some of the most covert (and overt), villainous, slime balls ever entered on the page. If you've read and enjoyed the works of any of Mrs. Burney's contemporaries or anyone who came after for 100 years, give or take, you can't possibly dislike this book.

[leslie398 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This 1778 novel reminded me of Georgette Heyer and Jane Austen, except for the epistolary writing. Despite the somewhat predictable plot, the satirical social commentary is a lot of fun (especially for those who are familiar with the social mores of Georgian England).

[zeborah · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The first two thirds of this or so are rape culture as horror story: every single man Evelina meets corners her with importunities. If she rejects him politely, he ignores her and carries on; if she tries to walk away he stops her, or goes with her, and carries on; if she resorts to other means she's scorned (by the world and even herself in hindsight) for her impropriety and it results in a new man accosting her with even greater rudeness. And then the first man returns another day unperturbed.

I lose track of how many people end up seriously pursuing her this way: at least five (Lovel, Merton, wossname, Sir Clement, and Branghton Jr) not to mention all the nameless men in the garden maze etc. It escalates unrelentingly and -- okay, I was less frightened for her than absolutely outraged at the men and her so-called friends and society at large, then and now.

Anyway, then the romance started being more important and so the focus turned to clarifying her parentage, and that was all fine and sweet; the resolution - or more precisely the problem - turned on introducing a hitherto-unknown petty villain, but okay. Evelina and her beau are pretty adorable together once she gets to know him as a person and not just as the one man in the world who isn't actively sexually harrassing her.

[stillatim · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I'll admit that reading 18th century fiction is sometimes harder than I'd like it to be. The authors either don't know, or just don't abide by, the rules of fiction that we're all used to. But more and more often I'm struck instead by the sheer joy and verve that animates 18th century novels, and that often seems to have gone missing in the twentieth century--and, obviously, this very much the case with Evelina. There's not a whole lot of unity to the tale, and there are plenty of scenes that Burney includes for no reason other than that they're funny and or mortifying (e.g., random monkey attack towards the end of the novel. No, really.) But it turns out that the funniness, sentiment and mortification of these scenes is more than enough justification. Burney is funnier than Fielding, more touching than Richardson, and a better writer than everyone but Swift at his best--and this is her first novel. I'm looking forward to the others. If you're really into Austen, and can handle some rougher edges and a more satirical narrator, this is a great book for you: Evelina herself is the Great English Heroine a few years after Clarissa, and a few years before Lizzie Bennett.

The most interesting part of this book, though, is the way Burney plays with the modes of eighteenth century fiction: she gives us satire, sentiment, farce, social commentary, bawdy wit, and sententious BS in almost equal doses. And most impressively of all, you can sense that Burney is in total control of all of them, recognizes that each mode lines up well with a way of life as much as with a literary fashion (sometimes this is made obvious in the novel, as Mrs Selwyn stands for satire and Villars stands for sententiousness), and is willing to give each a say--before, ultimately, coming down on the side of Selwyn's satire and Evelina's proto-LizBennettian irony (which itself develops throughout the book rather than being, as in Austen, constant from the start of P&P). She wields a kind of authorial control that very few twentieth century anglophone authors can (Anthony Powell, William Gaddis, J. G. Farrell and Muriel Spark come to mind as possible comparisons).

PS: this edition is great, too--lovingly and helpfully annotated and introduced.

[hopingforchange · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I used to be an 18th c. scholar, so this book is high on my list of favorites. There are so many things I could say about it, but they have probably all been said. To be quick about it, Evelina is a striking social comedy. Burney's characters are exaggerated, which distinguishes her from, let's say, Austen or other more recent comedy of manners novelists. It's this exaggeration that really sold me on the novel, because Burney pulls it off! The reader believes the story. The reader also believes the social commentary about desire, gender roles, and sensibility, and the degree of philosophy that exists behind the story just takes it to a whole new level. Evelina is a epistolary novel, which is pretty typical for the period. It is also presented as true. Again, this is typical as fiction wasn't necessarily a respected medium.

[shabacus · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

As always, it is difficult to review a classic novel. On the one hand, you must consider the context in which it was written; on the other, you must consider its effect on a modern reader.Evelina provided direct inspiration for Jane Austen. Written in the late 18th century, it came before the Regency period, before the Victorian era, before those periods in English literature that we typically associate with the sentimental novel or the comedy of manners. And indeed, Evelina was a precursor to most of them and should best be viewed as such.To a modern reader, the heroine is insipid, passive, naive to a fault. She takes only a very reactive role in her own life, and in many cases fails to act in a way that we would consider only common sense. Her relationship with her adopted father is one that seems submissive beyond all reason. But instead of taking these elements as making the story an inferior one, we should instead see it as a mirror of the times, and choose to learn what the manners were according to the characters' violation of and adherence to them.By the way, after 350+ pages, it's hard not to start writing in the roundabout, 18th century style.I enjoyed the book, although I treat it more as a learning experience than casual reading. It's no Pride and Prejudice, but then again, there may not have been an Elizabeth or Darcy had it not been for Evelina.

[joririchardson · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

It took me quite awhile to get into this book, but my sister enthusiastically insisted that I read it. Evelina, which was written in 1778 and influenced the writing of Jane Austen, is the story of a girl who is coming out into society. This book is written in a flouncy, dramatic style. I can't picture this book being quite right any other way, even though the writing never exactly impressed me. It was also written in the form of letters, which allows Evelina (the main character, if you hadn't gathered that already from the title) to narrate in first person. Other characters also sometimes exchange letters, allowing the author to give voice to other characters besides her heroine. It was unusual, but I didn't exactly care for this aspect of the writing style, either.Evelina is a dreadfully irritating character. I absolutely loathed her and wanted to slap her. She was incredibly flighty and timid, and I can't imagine anyone possibly liking her. When she first meets Lord Orville, he seems exceedingly interested in her, though I can't fathom any reason why. She is too shy to speak a word or even look at him, and in the middle of their dance, she runs away, because she is so afraid. For the rest of the night, she is the embodiment of the essence of bad company, distancing herself from all conversation and running and hiding from everyone.Evelina is constantly running away from the tiniest of things (which aren't even problems of negative situations) because she is so very afraid. I have to wonder what she would do if presented with an ACTUALLY frightening instance. I liked the character of Lord Orville, even though I had to wonder what he could possibly see in our shallow heroine. His jealousy when Evelina is speaking to another man was endearingly funny, even though I couldn't believe how Evelina could be so stupid as to not realize what was going through her admirer's mind.The other men who seek Evelina's attentions, notably Sir Clement Willoughby and Mr. Loval, are also comical, especially Loval.The beginning of this book was pretty dry, and so was the middle. The end of the book, which suddenly struck up a flurry of events with mistaken and unknown identities, babies who were switched at birth, and other such things, was entertaining even though it seemed a bit rushed into.This book was average - it was funny at times, but I couldn't bring myself to enjoy it all that much.

[thorold_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Great fun, if a little clumsy in parts. Burney obviously had technical problems with the different voices needed for the epistolary form, so the book ends up as essentially a first-person narrative by Evelina with occasional letters from other characters interspersed here and there. But this doesn't matter: although she is sometimes an irritatingly dense character, Evelina is always a very lively narrator. The comic characters are great as well, even though they are all a bit stagey. The plot races along and the resolution has a very theatrical quality about it: you can just imagine an audience groaning with pleasurable vexation as they discover who are the long-lost siblings, and which babies were switched at birth...If you look at this as a stepping-stone from Richardson, Smollett and Fielding to the fiction of the 19th century, there's a lot to engage with. Something I found very interesting was the representation of class. We normally think of Georgian society as grandees at the top, peasants and the urban poor at the bottom, and everyone else more-or-less at the same level in the middle, but in this novel the plot relies heavily on the contrast between the social standards of Villars and the Mirvans on the one hand and Mme Duval and the Branghtons on the other. The former are minor gentry, and model their behaviour and values on those of the aristocracy; the latter are in trade, and are much more free and easy in their manners (for instance, the Branghton girls can go around unchaperoned with young men, whilst Evelina and Molly Mirvan would never think of doing so). The interesting thing is that Burney is describing a period when these two groups exist closely together, multiply linked to each other by marriage, and characters like Evelina and Captain Mirvan find themselves moving (albeit sometimes uncomfortably) back and forth between the two. By the time we get to Dickens and Thackeray, this gap has become a lot bigger.If you come to this novel expecting something like mature Jane Austen, as many people seem to, you'll be disappointed. The humour is clumsier, relying on slapstick rather than irony; there is too much going on; we don't have time to identify with the characters' real problems. On the other hand, if you read it on its own terms as a first novel by a clever young woman in her twenties - late 18th century chick-lit, if you will - you can get a lot of pleasure from it.

[wubsy_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I read this as part of my degree in English Lit, and have to say that for me it was (gasp!) less entertaining than Jane Austen. I think that the form and style is so removed from my twenty first century position I found it difficult to get any grasp as to why the characters were as they were, and what motivated them. This is more a fault of mine than it is of the author, but still, Austen proves that this kind of 'manner's novel' can be done better, if only a little.

[sweetiegherkin · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I was so excited when I found this book in my local library as I had known Fanny Burney's writing had been an influence on Jane Austen's own writing. I was not disappointed, even though the book started out a bit slow for my liking and the means of introducing Evelina's background was a bit contrived. By focusing the story on a young, sheltered girl entering the world at large for the first time, Burney cracks open that world and captures all the manners and customs of that time and place. Whether intended or not, I find it ironic that while the story is written mostly in Evelina's hand, her character more often than not is at a loss for words. Although Jane Austen later improved upon much of Burney's style and technique, I am still mightily impressed with Burney's talent, especially at a young age and particularly because that talent was not encouraged by her family. I am disappointed that her earliest work, Caroline Evelyn, was burned at her own hand. I would have looked forward to reading it, but as it is I am contented to one day (hopefully soon) read her other works.

[wanderlust_lost · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

One of the first successful epistolary novels Evelina by Fanny Burney is a more than usually wonderful example of 18th century virtue novels. The main character, the virtuous and artless Evelina who is at the mercy of her more worldly, more sophisticated friends finds herself thrown into the thick of London society and beset by trouble at every turn. The poor girl finds herself the victim of unwanted romantic pursuit/advances, and various attempts by nefarious characters to sully her honour, stain her reputation, and bring scandal to her and her friends and family. It's a story about class and the evils of a decadent life, but also of the value of virtue. This novel is a delight to read. It's pleasant but not saccharine and it's very very well written. I loved it and I think you will too.

[snash_44 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A novel of letters with its bits of humor, sensitivity of relationships, and a bit of satire of the manners of both the privileged and the lower classes.

[setnahkt · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I picked this one up because it said “World’s Classic” on the cover and I’d never heard of it. Evelina is a young (17) orphan girl entering society (the subtitle is “or a Young Lady’s Entrance into the World”) in 1778. She goes to Balls, Operas, and Plays. She encounters a Rough-Mannered Sea Captain, a Rakish Aristocrat, Comical Foreigners, Venal Bourgeoisie, a Mysterious Scotsman, a Noble Lord, and some Ladies of Negotiable Virtue. After some turns of fortune, she is discovered to be an Heiress, marries the Noble Lord, and all Ends Happily.
Reading a novel like this is almost like reading science fiction about the social habits of space aliens. The customs of the time are so different from what we’re used to that the characters might as well be Martians. The class distinctions are ironclad; not one servant in the book has a name (they’re “the maid”, “the footman”, “the coachman”, etc.). There is, of course, almost no mention of the underside of London life at the time; there are no poor people, no criminals, no dirt, no squalor (I say “almost” because Evelina does meet some ladies who are no better than they should be, and it is assumed at one point that one character has written a letter while intoxicated.) Oddly, for a time in which religion is much more important than nowadays, none of the characters ever goes to church (perhaps it’s just so natural that it’s assumed). The epistolary style is an exotic antique (although it was used, probably for its anachronistic value, in the recent The Egyptologist). The morals of the time can be amusing; it’s horribly improper for a young lady to dance with a gentleman unless they’ve been introduced, which creates a sort of chicken-and-egg problem; who does the first introduction? For some odd reason, (perhaps the formality of manner) the whole thing reminds me of The Tale of Genji; there’s a similar glimpse into a very different world.
Reading something like this, in addition to is value as literary and social history, raises some questions about our own society. What will we look like to people 200 years hence? Will some of our cherished values seem laughable? Will the people of 2206 gasp in horror because we allowed abortions? Or because we didn’t fully support a woman’s right to choice? Will they roll on the floor in hysterics over the prurience of Sex in the City, or be disgusted by its permissiveness? Will our clothing styles be prudish or pornographic?
No Jane Austen, but at least three stars for the entertainment value.

[wealhtheowwylfing · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Written more than thirty years before Austen’s first novel was published, it concerns eighteenth century society rather than nineteenth century. As such, I found myself constantly at a loss. Before reading this book, I thought I had a good handle on the manners of the period. I know the difference between a barouche, a phaeton, and a curricle, and that a lady would never stand up and leave a conversation, and that men knew classical languages and women, only modern. And yet, I was utterly confused by Evelina. (The following block of text contains spoilers, so beware.)A major piece of the plot is that Evelina (a young girl only just out into society) receives the following note:

"To Miss Anville.
"With transport, most charming of thy sex, did I read the letter
with which you yesterday morning favoured me. I am sorry the
affair of the carriage should have given you any concern,
but I am highly flattered by the anxiety you express so
kindly. Believe me, my lovely girl, I am truly sensible
to the honour of your good opinion, and feel myself deeply
penetrated with love and gratitude. The correspondence you
have so sweetly commenced, I shall be proud of continuing;
and I hope the strong sense I have of the favour you do me
will prevent your withdrawing it. Assure yourself, that I
desire nothing more ardently than to pour forth my thanks at
your feet, and to offer those vows which are so justly the
tribute of your charms and accomplishments. In your next
I intreat you to acquaint me how long you shall remain in
town. The servant, whom I shall commission to call for an
answer, has orders to ride post with it to me. My impatience
for his arrival will be very great, though inferior to that
with which I burn to tell you, in person, how much I am,
my sweet girl, your grateful admirer, "ORVILLE."


After reading this, she is horrified and flees London, overcome with shame. WHAT? Ok, so an unmarried woman would not correspond with an unmarried man to whom she was not related or engaged. But she’s so shocked that she says, “As a sister I loved him;-I could have entrusted him with every thought of my heart, had he deigned to wish my confidence: so steady did I think his honour, so feminine his delicacy, and so amiable his nature! I have a thousand times imagined that the whole study of his life, and whole purport of his reflections, tended solely to the good and happiness of others: but I will talk,-write,-think of him no more!” Yeah, that’s what I want in a man—feminine delicacy and brotherly love. Eew. Then, she shows the letter to her guardian, the milquetoast Mr. Villars, who says, "I can form but one conjecture concerning this most extraordinary performance: he must certainly have been intoxicated when he wrote it." "That a man who had behaved with so strict a regard to delicacy," continued Mr. Villars, "and who, as far as occasion had allowed, manifested sentiments the most honourable, should thus insolently, thus wantonly, insult a modest young woman, in his perfect senses, I cannot think possible.” WTF, dudes? God forbid the man you love should actually *write* to you, or in any way communicate his affection. Oh no! Some time later, after Evelina and Lord Orville have reconciled, her guardian sends a fire and brimstone letter, writing,

“Awake then, my dear, my deluded child, awake to the sense of your danger, and exert yourself to avoid the evils with which it threatens you:-evils which, to a mind like yours, are most to be dreaded; secret repining, and concealed, yet consuming regret! Make a noble effort for the recovery of your peace, which now, with sorrow I see it, depends wholly upon the presence of Lord Orville. This effort may indeed be painful; but trust to my experience, when I assure you it is requisite.

You must quit him!-his sight is baneful to your repose, his society is death to your future tranquility! Believe me, my beloved child, my heart aches for your suffering, while it dictates its necessity.”

Because clearly, falling in love MUST NEVER HAPPEN. You must be calm and passionless at all times. If you like someone, you must flee their company! How did anyone get married in these days? You can’t go up and introduce yourself—you must hope to be introduced by some mutual respectable friend. You must not dance with any one partner more than a couple times a night, nor may you find yourself in intimate conversations with anyone of the opposite sex. You cannot write to your love, not even the most innocent and affection-free of notes. You cannot hint that you like someone, until you actually ask them to marry you. Only *after* you are engaged may you show any hint of affection or partiality, or indeed, write or talk to your fiancee. ARRGH!

Reading a romance set in a different century is really a trip. As a reader, I usually know who is being cast as the romantic lead, who is secretly evil, who will unexpectedly assist the main character, etc. But in this book, all the signals I rely upon were gone, or meant something else entirely. The man who seeks out Evelina’s company, befriends her friends, and tries to make her happy, is apparently a dissolute and foolish rake. The man who is cold, thinks of her as a sister, and has nothing to do with her for 8/9ths of the novel, is her love interest. His very coldness and “lack of partiality” is what is explicitly stated (by several characters) as his most romantic aspect. Her guardian, Mr. Villars, swears that the outside world is too indelicate and dangerous for her and tries to keep cloistered forever in the country, with only him for company. The first ten pages of Evelina show him refusing to allow Evelina out of his sight. Among many creepy assertions, he writes,
“She is one, Madam, for whom alone I have lately wished to live; and she is one whom to serve I would with transport die! Restore her but to me all innocence as you receive her, and the fondest hope of my heart will be amply gratified. “
He clutches her to his bosom all the time. When she writes about feeling affection for another man, he responds, “my Evelina,-sole source, to me, of all earthly felicity. How strange, then, is it, that the letter in which she tells me she is the happiest of human beings, should give me most mortal inquietude!” That reads as serious jealousy to me. Then Evelina’s father (who abandoned her mother many years ago) writes “It seldom happens that a man, though extolled as a saint, is really without blemish; or that another, though reviled as a devil, is really without humanity. Perhaps the time is not very distant, when I may have the honour to convince your Ladyship of this truth, in regard to Mr. Villars and myself.” Which again, reads to me that Mr. Villars is not what he seems. And yet, through to the end, all of the characters continue to think Mr. Villars is the most moral and high-minded of men. He is never revealed to have ulterior motives. His counsel is much sought after and well regarded. Weird.

Overall, Evelina is a very fun read. I could hardly put it down, and I’d definitely recommend it to anyone. Nevertheless, it contains some very creepy messages. Evelina’s beauty is praised, but what everyone finds the most attractive about her is her timid inability to say what she thinks or be negative in any way. She constantly gets into trouble (and in fact, is almost raped) due to her naïve and bashful nature, yet it is exactly what everyone likes best, and what critics of this book call and exceedingly moral message. Any character who speaks clearly (Captain Mirvan, Mrs. Selwyn) is thought of as very uncouth. Neither character has patience for the long, drawn out methods of polite society, and mock the pretentions of the fops and would-be aristocrats. Mrs. Selwyn is particularly effective at exposing the ignorance and foolishness of Evelina’s companions, and so of course she is described as unpleasantly masculine and rapidly shut out from truly nice society*. I have some very strong feelings about this book, and I’m not the only one—apparently there have been FLAME WARS about this novel, which is freaking awesome.


*'"I have an insuperable aversion to strength, either of body or mind, in a female."

"Faith, and so have I," said Mr. Coverley; "for egad, I'd as soon see a woman chop wood, as hear her chop logic."

"So would every man in his senses," said Lord Merton, "for a woman wants nothing to recommend her but beauty and good-nature; in everything else she is either impertinent or unnatural. For my part, deuce take me if ever I wish to hear a word of sense from a woman as long as I live!"

"It has always been agreed," said Mrs. Selwyn, looking round her with the utmost contempt, "that no man ought to be connected with a woman whose understanding is superior to his own. Now I very much fear, that to accommodate all this good company, according to such a rule, would be utterly impracticable, unless we should choose subjects from Swift's hospital of idiots."

How many enemies, my dear Sir, does this unbounded severity excite!'

[traceymadeley · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a comedy bordering on farce. Evelina writes letters to and from her guardian about what is happening in her life. When she meets her grandmother Mrs Duval, she insists on taking charge of Evelina, dragging her into some difficult situations. From a coach trip which results in a ‘staged’ highway robbery, leaving Mrs Duval in the mud, bound and without her curls, to a night at the opera where no one seems to know the correct etiquette for entering.The Branghtons’ are her cousins, but the son is unruly and petulant and the girls spiteful and manipulative. After deliberately going on an evening walk down a dark alley, they become separated, and Evelina is found by Sir Clement Willoughby who takes her back to her party. It is hard to think of Sir Clement Willoughby as anything but a nuisance, but he does save Evelina from some rough young men. However, being in a carriage alone with him is not much better and without a chaperone does not look good. When the girls are not found, a search party is sent, and they blame Evelina for abandoning them.Mr Lovel is a complete idiot and far too concerned with his own appearance. The way he embarrasses Evelina at the ball does not endear himself to anyone. Captain Mirvan’s joke with the monkey is taking things a little too far.Lady Louisa probably best represents the aristocratic woman of the time, proud, lazy, selfish and ignorant. Compare this to Evelina’s innocent humility. She does not pretend to know everything, and this is why she seeks advice from her guardian. That guardian worries about the corruption of the city and its dangers which prove not unfounded. With no constant male protector outside the home, Evelina is in a vulnerable position with men at liberty to address her however they please.Lord Orville is the aristocratic hero of the novel and displays both good manners, breeding, respect and consideration towards everyone he meets. He is gracious to Mrs Duval when she presumes to take his coach based on Evelina’s brief acquaintance. In contrast to Sir Clement he shows that birth does not guarantee good manners.Fanny Burney was one of the most popular novelists of her day and like Richardson the novel is an epistolary format. Lovers of Jane Austen will immediately draw comparisons as both discuss class and the manners of polite society. Burney, however, is much more overtly funny and less subtle in her characterisation but compared to most 18th century novels you will find it a much more acceptable pace.

[adonisguilfoyle · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Evelina, or Care in the Community, Eighteenth Century StyleI must confess that my sole reason for reading Evelina is decidedly tenuous – the characters Madame Duval and Captain Mirvan are referenced in Barbara Cornthwaite’s delightful Austen companion novel, Charity Envieth Not – but the reviews on Amazon lead me to believe that my literary detour would be enjoyable. Well, as for that, I will say that Fanny Burney is occasionally witty, and that some of her maxims and caricatures still apply today, but for the most part I struggled to stay awake. Austen was right to mock sentimental novels like Evelina and Belinda, which usually feature pathetic heroines, implausible plot devices where all the characters turn out to be related to each other, and quote poetry at length. I suffered through Celestina, battled through the first volume of Cecelia, and now I would like a badge that says ‘I read Evelina and survived!’Evelina Anville – and never was there a truer alias for such a blockhead – is a very romantic heroine. Her mother died a ruined woman, abandoned by her wealthy husband after eloping to France, and Evelina was raised for most of her seventeen years in quiet country retirement by a devoted guardian. When the story opens, two interested parties are keen to take Evelina under their wing, and ‘finish’ her education in London. The least attractive candidate is Evelina’s maternal grandmother, the voluble and vulgar Madame Duval, lately arrived from Paris to claim her young relation. Mr Villars, Evelina’s surrogate father, arranges with Lady Howard, an acquaintance of Evelina’s late mother, to save his ward from such a damaging association, and Evelina is shipped off with Lady Howard’s daughter, Mrs Mirvan, to spend time in London. The Mirvans and Evelina visit all the popular attractions, balls, ridottos and gardens in the capital, but London was apparently a small world in the late eighteenth century and Madame Duval wastes no time in finding her estranged granddaughter and forcing an introduction. Crusty old seadog Captain Mirvan hates ‘Madame Frog’ on sight, and the two engage in some vastly amusing verbal dingdongs that would have made Austen blanch. Mme. Duval and Captain Mirvan aside, Evelina’s adventures are tediously dull and repetitive. The girl is a ninny (‘my intentions are never wilfully blameable, yet I err perpetually!’ she wails) - even in the historical context of the novel - yet all the young beaux fall in love with her on sight. Lord Orville is smitten from the first meeting, and ever after follows her around, watching her make ridiculous social blunders and embarrassing public faux pas. (Even I know the rule about not dancing with another partner after rejecting a gentleman’s invitation!) She is forever finding herself alone with irritating and persistent suitors like Sir Clement Willoughby, who like to grasp her hand and declare how much they adore her. I wouldn’t mind, except that the reader is obviously supposed to find Evelina’s innocence and artlessness similarly enchanting, whereas her constant dithering only made me want to slap her. The epistolary form of the novel is pointless on two levels – one, most of the letters are from Evelina herself (‘EVELINA – CONTINUED’), so why not just write in the first person and have done, and two, when does she find the time to write such detailed, word-for-word confessions of her idiotic behaviour to Mr Villars? She also tells him far too much, and barely waits for a reply before tagging on another episode.There are a few amusing characters, including Mrs Selwyn, Evelina’s rather forthright companion in Bristol who scares all the men with her biting satire, and Evelina’s lowly Branghton cousins in High Holborn, but I found Lord Orville a suitably insipid match for our heroine, and Sir Clement decidedly creepy. If I was writing a modern version of Evelina, I would have her smack the idiots’ heads together and leave them to get on with it – the two rivals spend more time asking her about the other man than paying attention to Evelina. Also, the melodramatic yet predictable disclosure about Evelina’s father and half-brother is the best example of why the fanciful plots of these novels are so laughable today – Austen handles illegitimacy and inheritance with far more subtlety. Evelina is the equivalent of a Catherine Cookson potboiler, where the kitchen maid finds out that she is in fact an heiress and can marry the lord’s son after all.Well, at least now I know who Madame Duval and Captain Mirvan are, and I didn’t pay a penny to read Evelina on Kindle! Losing a week of free time was just about worth the effort.

[hugoblumenthal · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Let me put it this way: After doing a second year of a Masters in Literature, and having read Robinson Crusoe, Pamela, Clarissa, Tom Jones, Tristram Shandy, etc., I decided to write my dissertation on this novel, which I found the most entertaining of the whole lot, and, though apparently ‘light’ if compared to the heavy-weight ones I just mentioned, with great potential to allow one to explore problems as complex as the question of appearances, representation and mimesis in the Eighteenth-Century novel.