Evelina quotes

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;

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.

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.

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

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

Tired, ashamed, and mortified, I begged to sit down till we returned home, which I did soon after. Lord Orville did me the honour to hand me to the coach, talking all the way of the honour I had done him!

O these fashionable people!

Well, my dear Sir, was it not a strange evening? I could not help being thus particular, because, to me, everything is so new. But it is now time to conclude. I am, with all love and duty, your

We came home from the ridotto so late, or rather so early that it was not possible for me to write. Indeed, we did not go—you will be frightened to hear it—till past eleven o’clock: but nobody does.

A terrible reverse of the order of nature! We sleep with the sun, and wake with the moon.

The room was very magnificent, the lights and decorations were brilliant, and the company gay and splendid. But I should have told you, that I made many objections to being of the party, according to the resolution I had formed.

My shame and confusion were unspeakable. Who could have supposed or foreseen that this man knew Lord Orville?

But falsehood is not more unjustifiable than unsafe.

Lord Orville—well he might—looked all amazement.

for she began, with great bitterness, to inveigh against the barbarous brutality of that fellow the Captain, and the horrible ill-breeding of the English in general, declaring, she should make her escape with all expedition from so beastly a nation.

But nothing can be more strangely absurd, than to hear politeness recommended in language so repugnant to it as that of Madame Duval.

She lamented, very mournfully, the fate of her Lyons silk; and protested she had rather have parted with all the rest of her wardrobe, because it was the first gown she had bought to wear upon leaving off her weeds.

Miss Branghton, the eldest daughter, is by no means ugly; but looks proud, ill-tempered, and conceited. She hates the city, though without knowing why; for it is easy to discover she has lived nowhere else.

Miss Polly Branghton is rather pretty, very foolish, very ignorant, very giddy, and, I believe, very good-natured.

The first half-hour was allotted to making themselves comfortable; for they complained of having had a very dirty walk, as they came on foot from Snow Hill, where Mr. Branghton keeps a silversmith’s shop;

“Why, what the D⸺l,” cried the Captain, “do you come to the play without knowing what it is?”

“O yes, Sir, yes, very frequently: I have no time to read playbills; one merely comes to meet one’s friends, and show that one’s alive.”

“Ha, ha, ha!—and so,” cried the Captain, “it costs you five shillings a-night just to show you’re alive! Well, faith, my friends should all think me dead and underground before I’d be at that expense for ’em.

“Since my opinion has the sanction of Mrs. Mirvan,” added Lord Orville, “I will venture to say, that Angelica bestows her hand rather with the air of a benefactress, than with the tenderness of a mistress.

Generosity without delicacy, like wit without judgment, generally gives as much pain as pleasure.

The uncertainty in which she keeps Valentine, and her manner of trifling with his temper, give no very favourable idea of her own.”

It was some consolation to me to hear from Miss Mirvan, that, while he was speaking to me so cavalierly, Lord Orville regarded him with great indignation.

But, really, I think there ought to be a book of the laws and customs à la mode, presented to all young people upon their first introduction into public company.

Tonight we go to the opera, where I expect very great pleasure. We shall have the same party as at the play, for Lord Orville said he should be there, and would look for us.

Mrs. Mirvan, with great eagerness, begged he would explain himself; and said she hoped he had not thought so insignificant an affair worthy his serious attention.

“There is nothing,” answered he, “which requires more immediate notice than impertinence, for it ever encroaches when it is tolerated.”

He then added, that he believed he ought to apologize for the liberty he had taken in interfering;

for I feared he had too contemptuous an opinion of me, to take any trouble upon my account. Though, after all, this interference might rather be to satisfy his own delicacy, than from thinking well of me.

But how cool, how quiet is true courage!

Who, from seeing Lord Orville at the play, would have imagined his resentment would have hazarded his life? yet his displeasure was evident, though his real bravery and his politeness equally guarded him from entering into any discussion in our presence.

There was an exceeding good concert, but too much talking to hear it well.

Indeed I am quite astonished to find how little music is attended to in silence; for, though everybody seems to admire, hardly anybody listens.

We did not see Lord Orville till we went into the tearoom, which is large, low, and under ground, and serves merely as a foil to the apartments above; he then sat next to us.

“Think!—” said he, “why I think as how it i’n’t worth thinking about.

I like no such jemcracks. It is only fit, in my mind, for monkeys:

—though, for aught I know, they too might turn up their noses at it.”

Can it be right, my dear Sir, that this promising young creature should be deprived of the fortune and rank of life to which she is lawfully entitled, and which you have prepared her to support and to use so nobly?

To despise riches may, indeed, be philosophic; but to dispense them worthily must, surely, be more beneficial to mankind.

Perhaps a few years, or indeed a much shorter time, may make this scheme impracticable: Sir John, though yet young, leads a life too dissipated for long duration; and when too late, we may regret that something was not sooner done:

In short, Madam, after a discourse infinitely tedious, I was obliged, though very reluctantly, to compromise with this ungovernable woman, by consenting that Evelina should pass one month with her.

I never made a concession with so bad a grace, or so much regret.

The violence and vulgarity of this woman, her total ignorance of propriety, the family to which she is related, and the company she is likely to keep, are objections so forcible to her having the charge of this dear child, that nothing less than my …

You cannot too assiduously attend to Madame Duval herself; but I would wish you to mix as little as possible with her associates, who are not likely to be among those whose acquaintance would reflect credit upon you.

Remember, my dear Evelina, nothing is so delicate as the reputation of a woman; it is at once the most beautiful and most brittle of all human things.

Adieu, my beloved child; I shall be but ill at ease till this month is elapsed.

He then, and with as much composure as if he had been an expected guest, began to discourse on the weather—its uncertainty—the heat of the public places in summer—the emptiness of the town—and other such common topics.

Nobody, however, answered him; Mr. Smith seemed afraid, young Branghton ashamed, M. Du Bois amazed, Madame Duval enraged, and myself determined not to interfere.

All that he could obtain, was the notice of Miss Branghton, whose nods, smiles, and attention, had some appearance of entering into conversation with him.

I assure you I have no bad designs, I have not upon my word; but, really, there is no resolving upon such a thing as matrimony all at once; what with the loss of one’s liberty, and what with the ridicule of all one’s acquaintance—

I assure you Ma’am you are the first lady who ever made me even demur upon this subject; for, after all, my dear Ma’am, marriage is the devil.

”

Never, never again will I trust to appearances;—never confide in my own weak judgment;—never believe that person to be good who seems to be amiable!

What cruel maxims are we taught by a knowledge of the world!

—But while my own reflections absorb me, I forget you are still in suspense.

I am thankful that he has forborne to probe my wound; and I will endeavour to heal it by the consciousness that I have not deserved the indignity I have received.

Yet I cannot but lament to find myself in a world so deceitful, where we must suspect what we see, distrust what we hear, and doubt even what we feel!

Oh, Maria! what, what could induce him so causelessly to wound and affront one who would sooner have died than wilfully offended him?—How mortifying a freedom of style! how cruel an implication conveyed by his thanks and expressions of gratitude!

Is it not astonishing, that any man can appear so modest, who is so vain?

Every hour I regret the secrecy I have observed with my beloved Mr. Villars;

“Your indignation,” said he, “is the result of virtue; you fancied Lord Orville was without fault—he had the appearance of infinite worthiness, and you supposed his character accorded with appearance: guileless yourself, how could you prepare against the duplicity of another?

Your disappointment has but been proportioned to your expectations, and you have chiefly owed its severity to the innocence which hid its approach.

”

I will bid these words dwell ever in my memory, and they shall cheer, comfort, and enliven me! This conversation, though extremely affecting to me at the time it passed, has relieved my mind from much anxiety.

Concealment, my dear Maria, is the foe of tranquillity: however I may err in future, I will never be disingenuous in acknowledging my errors.

To you and to Mr. Villars I vow an unremitting confidence.

“Whoever she is, I wish she would mind her own affairs:

I don’t know what the devil a woman lives for after thirty: she is only in other folk’s way.

Shall you be at the assembly?”

“If the ladies will trust to my driving,” said Lord Orville, “and are not afraid of a phaeton, mine shall be ready in a moment.”

“You are very good, my Lord,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “but my will is yet unsigned, and I don’t choose to venture in a phaeton with a young man while that is the case.”

“O,” cried Mrs. Beaumont, “you need not be afraid of my Lord Orville, for he is remarkably careful.”

“If I had,” answered he, gallantly, “it would have been from mere compassion at their envy.”

“No, my Lord,” answered she, “it would have been from mere shame, that, in an age so daring, you alone should be such a coward as to forbear to frighten women.”

“O,” cried he, laughing, “when a man is in a fright for himself, the ladies cannot but be in security; for you have not had half the apprehension for the safety of your persons, that I have for that of my heart.”

for you have not had half the apprehension for the safety of your persons, that I have for that of my heart.” He then alighted, handed us out, took leave, and again mounting the phaeton, was out of sight in a minute.

“Certainly,” said Mrs. Selwyn, when he was gone, “there must have been some mistake in the birth of that young man; he was, undoubtedly, designed for the last age; for he is really polite!”

And now, my dear Sir, do not you think, according to the present situation of affairs, I may give up my resentment, without imprudence or impropriety? I hope you will not blame me.

“Why, no, Ma’am; I must own I never heard any particular reason for it.”

“Why, then, Sir, I’ll tell it you; and I believe you will confess it to be very particular; his Lordship’s friends are not yet tired of him.”

Lord Orville laughed and bowed. Mr. Coverley, a little confused, turned to Lord Merton, and said, “No foul play, my Lord!

“Do I, Ma’am?” cried he; “why, only see!”

“I protest,” cried she, “I should have taken that for a shrug, if you had not told me ’twas a bow.”

“My lord,” cried Mr. Coverley, “let’s practise;” and then, most ridiculously, they pranced about the room, making bows.

Well, I must take my chance!

But I knew not, till now, how requisite are birth and fortune to the attainment of respect and civility.

“Pray, my Lord,” cried I, “let go my hand! Pray, Mrs. Selwyn, speak for me.”

“My Lord,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “in detaining Miss Anville any longer you only lose time; for we are already as well convinced of your valour and your strength, as if you were to hold her an age.”

“My Lord,” said Mrs. Beaumont, “I must beg leave to interfere: I know not if Lady Louisa can pardon you; but as this young lady is at my house, I do not choose to have her made uneasy.”

… no offence, as the cause of the change was upon my account, not his, I should not have assumed, so abruptly, a reserve for which I dared assign no reason—nor have shunned his presence so obviously, without considering the strange appearance of such a conduct.

Alas, my dearest Sir, that my reflections should always be too late to serve me! dearly, indeed, do I purchase experience!

and much, I fear, I shall suffer yet more severely, from the heedless indiscretion of my temper, ere I attain that prudence and consideration, which, by foreseeing distant consequences, may rule and direct in present exigencies.

but I knew not then how new she was to the world; at present, however, I am convinced, that whatever might appear strange in her behaviour, was simply the effect of inexperience, timidity, and a retired education; for I find her informed, sensible, and intelligent.

She is not, indeed, like most modern young ladies, to be known in half an hour: her modest worth, and fearful excellence, require both time and encouragement to show themselves.

She does not, beautiful as she is, seize the soul by surprise, but, with more dangerous fascination, she steals it almost imperceptibly.”

for I find her informed, sensible, and intelligent. She is not, indeed, like most modern young ladies, to be known in half an hour: her modest worth, and fearful excellence, require both time and encouragement to show themselves.

She does not, beautiful as she is, seize the soul by surprise, but, with more dangerous fascination, she steals it almost imperceptibly.

”

so deliberately artful, though so flighty! Greatly, however, is he mistaken, all confident as he seems; for the girl, obscure, poor, dependent as she is, far from wishing the honour of his alliance, would not only now, but always have rejected it.

As to Lord Orville⁠—but I will not trust my pen to mention him⁠—tell me, my dear Sir, what you think of him?

—tell me if he is not the noblest of men?—and if you can either wonder at, or blame my admiration?

“Not a few are the questions I have to ask Miss Anville: among them, the most important is, whether she depends wholly on herself, or whether there is any other person for whose interest I must solicit?”

“I hardly know, my Lord, I hardly know myself to whom I most belong.”

“Suffer, suffer me, then,” cried he, with warmth, “to hasten the time when that shall no longer admit a doubt!—when your grateful Orville may call you all his own!”

“Egad,” cried Mr. Coverley, “I never bought one in my life; it would make me quite melancholy to have such a timekeeper in my pocket. I would as soon walk all day before an hourglass.”

“You are in the right,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “not to watch time, lest you should be betrayed, unawares, into reflecting how you employ it.”

“Egad, Ma’am,” cried he, “if Time thought no more of me than I do of Time, I believe I should bid defiance, for one while, to old age and wrinkles; for deuce take me, if ever I think about it at all.”

“Your Ladyship,” said Mr. Lovel, “so well becomes the lilies, that the roses might blush to see themselves so excelled.”

“Pray, Mr. Lovel,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “if the roses should blush, how would you find it out?”

“Egad,” cried Mr. Coverley, “I suppose they must blush, as the saying is, like a blue dog—for they are red already.”

Mrs. Selwyn said something, but I could not listen to her; and in a few minutes he added,

“Lift up thy head⁠—if my sight has not blasted thee!⁠—lift up thy head, thou image of my long lost Caroline!”

Affected beyond measure, I half arose, and embraced his knees, while yet on my own.