After attending the opera with the Mirvans, Evelina finds herself in a conversation with the Mirvans, Mr. Lovel, Sir Clement, and Lord Orville. At one point, Lord Orville asks Evelina and Maria how they felt about the opera, and Captain Mirvan speaks over them, metaphorically comparing women to parrots in the process:
We both, and with eagerness, declared that we had received as much, if not more pleasure, at the opera than any where: but we had better have been silent; for the Captain, quite displeased, said, “What signifies asking them girls? Do you think they know their own minds yet? Ask ’em after any thing that’s called diversion, and you’re sure they’ll say it’s vastly fine;—they are a set of parrots, and speak by rote, for they all say the same thing: but ask ’em how they like making puddings and pies, and I’ll warrant you’ll pose ’em.”
Here, Captain Mirvan displays overt sexism, stating that women are like parrots who “speak by rote” and “all say the same thing” when it comes to art or entertainment—that it is “vastly fine.” He furthers his sexist stereotyping by insisting that when it comes to cooking, however, women would actually be able to offer insights. While Captain Mirvan is an especially gruff and ill-mannered character, his misogyny is typical of this time period.
When Evelina is starting to integrate more fully into her life in London, Mr. Villars warns her in a letter about how London is not the right place for her, using a metaphor and a hyperbole in the process:
Alas, my child, the artlessness of your nature, and the simplicity of your education, alike unfit you for the thorny paths of the great and busy world. The supposed obscurity of your birth and situation, makes you liable to a thousand disagreeable adventures. Not only my views, but any hopes for your future life, have ever centered in the country.
In his efforts to persuade Evelina that she belongs back home at Berry Hill with him, Mr. Villars writes that she is “unfit for the thorny paths of the great and busy world.” This metaphor of the city as a place full of "thorny paths" paints London as an inherently dangerous place. It is notable that the reasons Mr. Villars gives for why she may not be able to traverse London’s “thorny paths” are her lack of etiquette and limited education. While some people in London certainly judge her for these qualities, the kind and sensible characters do not (such as Mrs. Mirvan and Lord Orville).
Mr. Villars then goes on to then use a hyperbole, stating that her “birth and situation” could lead her to experience “a thousand disagreeable adventures.” This exaggerated claim is blatantly untrue, as 1,000 is an extreme number of misadventures. This, then, is Mr. Villars’s attempt at communicating his concern for his daughter. By her “birth and situation,” Mr. Villars is referring to the fact that, while Evelina is technically a member of nobility, as long as her birth father Sir John Belmont denies this, her reputation remains up in the air. Here, Mr. Villars does his best to offer Evelina guidance, even if it means scaring her in the process.
In an example of dramatic irony, Evelina (and readers) know that Captain Mirvan and Sir Clement are pretending to be robbers when they attack Madame Duval and haul her out of her carriage, but Madame Duval does not. The irony comes across clearly when Madame Duval tells Evelina after-the-fact about the murderous intentions of the robbers, which she (and readers) knows is not true:
“Why, child, all this misfortune comes of that puppy’s making us leave our money behind us; for as soon as the robber see I did not put nothing in his hands, he lugged me out of the chariot by main force, and I verily thought he’d have murdered me. He was as strong as a lion; I was no more in his hands than a child. But I believe never nobody was so abused before, for he dragged me down the road, pulling and hawling me all the way, as if I’d no more feeling than a horse.”
Though Madame Duval’s experience is genuinely violent and traumatic—and Evelina does not approve of the men’s actions—the scene offers something of a comedic moment in the novel. There is also an element of situational irony in this moment, since Madame Duval herself has acted in manipulative ways but is now finally on the receiving end of such behavior.
There is also some notable figurative language in Madame Duval’s description—she uses a simile in stating that the robber was “as strong as a lion,” and she metaphorically compares herself to both a child (due to her weakness in the face of his strength) and a horse (due to how carelessly the “robber” hauled her down the road). Her descriptions communicate her fear and also her tendency to exaggerate (as Evelina knows it’s unlikely that Captain Mirvan treated her in such an extreme way).
While Evelina was taken with London during her first visit, when she goes back for a second time she starts to become disillusioned. This comes across in a letter that Evelina writes to Maria, in which she uses a metaphor and imagery to communicate her discontent with the city:
Indeed, to me, London now seems a desert; that gay and busy appearance it so lately wore, is now succeeded by a look of gloom, fatigue, and lassitude; the air seems stagnant, the heat is intense, the dust intolerable, and the inhabitants illiterate and under-bred. At least, such is the face of things in the part of the town where I at present reside.
The metaphor here—“London now seems a desert”—shows how Evelina no longer finds the city to be vibrant and full of life. In fact, as the imagery she goes on to use communicates, “the air seems stagnant, the heat is intense, the dust intolerable.” In other words, London not only seems like a desert but also viscerally feels like one.
Evelina also notes how London seems to have “a look of gloom, fatigue, and lassitude” (or weariness). This imagery mirrors how Evelina herself feels while in the city—she is no longer excited and enlivened while being there, but tired and gloomy. All of this language points to the fact that Evelina’s innocence and naivety is coming to be replaced by maturity and wisdom—as she has more experiences with the world, she is becoming more discerning.
After Evelina writes to Mr. Villars and tells him of her reunion with her estranged birth father Sir John Belmont—describing how he has welcomed her into his life and given her her rightful title and inheritance—Mr. Villars responds joyfully, using a metaphor and personification in the process:
My child, thy happiness is engraved, in golden characters, upon the tablets of my heart! and their impression is indelible; for, should the rude and deep-searching hand of Misfortune attempt to pluck them from their repository, the fleeting fabric of life would give way, and in tearing from my vitals the nourishment by which they are supported, she would but grasp at a shadow insensible to her touch.
Here, Mr. Villars uses a metaphor to compare his heart to tablets on which Evelina’s “happiness is engraved, in golden characters,” effectively communicating the intensity of his happiness for his adopted daughter. He then personifies “Misfortune” as a woman, imagining that, should she use her hand “to attempt to pluck [the golden characters engraved on his heart] from their repository,” she would remove his very life-force and he would become “a shadow.”
This is Mr. Villars’s poetic way of sharing with Evelina that her happiness makes him immensely happy as well, so much so that it is impossible to separate her joy from his. Seeing her reputation restored and her nobility acknowledged is all he has wanted for her since the start of the novel.
