Frances Burney’s Evelina reflects 18th-century English society’s preoccupation with sensibility and etiquette. A person’s sensibility refers to their capacity for profound emotional reactions, especially as it relates to their ability to empathize with others and react emotionally to other people’s suffering. Sensible people were thus considered to be virtuous people, as those with natural sensibility were believed to care deeply about others and wanted to avoid offending people. To avoid giving offense, however, people also needed to understand etiquette, or manners. Burney suggests that although these concepts are often seen as inextricably linked, etiquette and sensibility aren’t the same: sensibility relies on one’s natural responses, whereas etiquette is learned. Burney further implies that many people exaggerate their sensibility to look fashionable, so although her 18th-century society claimed to prize true sensibility, people often cared more about the appearance of sensibility than they did about genuinely empathizing with others. In contrast, virtue comes only from genuine sensibility—that is, authentic empathy for others—and not from the pretense or appearance of it.
Throughout the novel, Evelina displays innate sensibility, meaning that her emotional reactions and empathy for other people is sincere rather than an attempt to look good in society’s eyes. Evelina’s adventures begin when she is sent away from home to stay with Lady Howard, a family friend. Evelina has not been educated in polite society and therefore doesn’t know that sensibility is highly prized among fashionable people like the Howards. In spite of this, Lady Howard writes to Evelina’s guardian, Mr. Villars, soon after Evelina’s arrival and compliments Evelina’s “natural desire to oblige” those around her—in other words, Evelina is eager to please others because she genuinely cares about how they feel, which is evidence of her natural sensibility. Evelina’s sensibility is also on display when she visits London and attends her first opera. Sensibility was associated with having a natural, emotional response to art, so it’s significant that Evelina is deeply moved by the performance. Even more importantly, Evelina’s outward response to the opera is muted, which suggests that her sensibility is a genuine, internal response, not an exaggerated performance to gratify or impress those around her. Furthermore, Evelina demonstrates genuine empathy when she saves Mr. Macartney—a Scottish poet, who turns out to be her estranged brother—from suicide. Although she does not know Macartney at the time, Evelina has a profoundly emotional reaction to Macartney’s sadness and does everything she can to help him. Once again, it’s clear that Evelina’s sensibility is natural, and she is genuinely interested in helping Macartney for his sake—not to make herself look good.
Although 18th-century society viewed etiquette as a byproduct of sensibility, Evelina is both innately sensible and unaware of conventional manners, which suggests that these concepts are not interchangeable (or even necessarily compatible) as fashionable society believes. While sensibility is an innate, emotional response to the world, etiquette is learned through social convention. For example, when Evelina attends her first ball, she learns that she cannot follow her natural inclination and dance with whomever she chooses but must follow complex rules to avoid giving offense. This suggests that, in contrast to sensibility, etiquette is often based on suppressing natural urges, not expressing them. Furthermore, a great deal of social etiquette is based on deceit—something that is antithetical to sensibility, which relies on authentic emotion. For example, Sir Clement Willoughby, a fashionable nobleman who tries to seduce Evelina, fully understands etiquette and yet is a deceitful and unpleasant person. Sir Clement demonstrates this when he pretends to like Captain Mirvan, who Evelina stays with in London. While Sir Clement flatters Captain Mirvan publicly, he viciously criticizes him in private, which proves that Sir Clement’s displays of etiquette are disingenuous and based in self-interest—he spends time with Captain Mirvan to get closer to Evelina—rather than based in genuine kindness. Furthermore, while society takes etiquette as evidence of virtue, the novel makes it clear that fashionable people, like Sir Clement, are often unconcerned with people’s feelings. Sir Clement does not care that he bullies Evelina into spending time with him, rather than making her feel comfortable. Evelina, in contrast, is sensible but not conventionally “polite” and is always deeply aware of how her actions make others feel. This demonstrates that true virtue requires sensibility but does not necessarily require studied etiquette, which often disguises falsehood.
People often fake sensibility to make themselves look good, even though this is oppositional to true sensibility, which is about caring about others rather than only caring about oneself. Louisa Larpent, a fashionable young woman Evelina visits in Bristol, pretends to be extremely emotionally sensitive. In actuality, Louisa is insensitive and cruel, as seen when she deliberately makes Evelina feel unwelcome during her visit. Louisa does not really care about how her actions make Evelina feel, underscoring the idea that Louisa is only concerned with the fashionable appearance of sensibility rather than being kind to others for the sake of being kind. Despite her unpleasant nature, Louisa is known as a refined and sensible person among polite society. This suggests that although 18th-century society claims to admire polite behavior, it is more concerned with the appearance of politeness and does not really care if people genuinely feel for others, so long as they appear to do so. Although sensibility is fashionable in the 18th century, Burney argues that true sensibility—which Evelina consistently demonstrates—is rare and cannot be faked. True sensibility springs from a genuine desire to help others through a sense of kindness and real empathy, rather than a desire for personal gain or to improve one’s social status.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Sensibility, Etiquette, and Appearances ThemeTracker
Sensibility, Etiquette, and Appearances Quotes in Evelina: or, The History of a Young Lady’s Entrance into the World
You have no 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.
The gentlemen, as they passed and repassed, looked as if they thought we were quite at their disposal, and only waiting for the honor of their commands; and they sauntered about, in a careless indolent manner, as if with a view to keep us in suspense.
But falsehood is not more unjustifiable than unsafe.
The more forcibly you are struck with improprieties and misconduct in another, the greater should be your observance and diligence to avoid even the shadow of similar error.
The conversation of Lord Orville is really delightful. His manners are so elegant, so gentle, so unassuming, that they at once engage esteem, and diffuse complacence. Far from being indolently satisfied with his own accomplishments, as I have already observed many men here are, though without any pretentions to his merit, he is most assiduously attentive to please and to serve all who are in his company; and, though his success is invariable, he never manifests the smallest degree of consciousness.
"So I did presume. Doubtless, Madame, everything must be infinitely novel to you. Our customs, our manners, and les etiquettes de nous autres, can have very little resemblance to those you have been used to. I imagine, Ma'am, your retirement is at no very small distance from the capital?"
He addressed us with his usual ease, and joined us for the whole evening. I felt myself very uneasy in his presence; for I could not look at him, nor hear him speak, without recollecting the chariot adventure; but to my great amazement, I observed that he looked at ne without the least apparent discomposure, though certainly he ought not to think of his behavior without blushing.
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.
You will have occasion, in the course of the month you are to pass with Madame Duval, for all the circumspection and prudence you can call to your aid: she will not, I know, propose any thing to you which she thinks wrong herself; but you must learn not only to judge but to act for yourself if any schemes are started, any engagements made, which your understanding represents to you as improper, exert yourself resolutely in avoiding them, and do not, by a too passive facility, risk the censure of the world, or your own future regret.
It is true, no man can possibly pay me greater compliments, or make more fine speeches, than Sir Clement Willoughby, yet his language, though too flowery, is always that of a gentleman, and his address and manners are so very superior to those of the inhabitants of this house, that to make any comparison between him and Mr. Smith would be extremely unjust.
“O Sir, you're vastly polite, all of a sudden! but I know what it's all for;—it's only for what you can get!—you could treat me like nobody at Howard Grove—but now you see I've a house of my own you've a mind to wheedle yourself into it[.]”
If, as I am very ready to acknowledge, I erred in writing to Lord Orville, was it for him to punish the error? If he was offended, could he not have been silent? If he thought my letter ill-judged, should he not have pitied my ignorance? have considered my youth, and allowed for my inexperience?
Once, indeed, I thought there existed another,—who, when time had wintered over his locks—would have shone forth among his fellow creatures, with the same brightness of worth which dignifies my honored Mr. Villars
Yet, when I reflected upon his peculiar situation, his poverty, his sadness, and, more than all the rest, the idea I knew he entertained of what he calls his obligations to me, I could not resolve upon a breach of promise, which might be attributed to causes of all other the most offensive to one whom misfortune has made extremely suspicious of slights and contempt.
"There is no young creature, my Lord, who so greatly wants, or so earnestly wishes for, the advice and assistance of her friends, as I do; I am new to the world, and unused to acting for myself,—my intentions are never willfully blamable, yet I err perpetually—I have, hitherto, been blessed with the most affectionate of friends, and, indeed, the ablest of men, to guide and instruct me upon every occasion; but he is too distant, now, to be applied to at the moment I want his aid[.]”
What a strange letter! How proud and how piqued does its writer appear! To what alternate meanness and rashness do the passions lead, when reason and self-denial do not oppose them! Sir Clement is conscious he has acted dishonorably, yet the same unbridled vehemence which urged him to gratify a blamable curiosity, will sooner prompt him to risk his life, than confess his misconduct.
