Evan Harrington — Volume 1 — A Closer Reading

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Meredith, George, 1828-1909 Project Gutenberg 2003 Not confirmed
English fiction -- 19th century; Tailors -- Fiction Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Edition facts

Words 30,916
Reading time 135 min
Text sections 3

The catalog record for Evan Harrington — Volume 1 — A Closer Reading provides practical reading context through 30,916 words, 2 hr 15 min estimated reading time, and 3 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 15.3 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “English fiction -- 19th century,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

George Meredith's novel opens with the death of tailor Melchisedec Harrington, whose daughters strive to conceal their father's trade. The first volume traces Evan's navigation between the shop and the uniform, as family secrets and social ambitions collide in Lymport and beyond.
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Editorial Edition Score 4.5/5

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  • Description quality20 pts
  • Title & short description10 pts
  • Source metadata20 pts
  • Text length15 pts
  • Chapters / structure15 pts
  • EPUB file integrity20 pts

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Lymport was a prosperous town, and in prosperity the much-despised British tradesman is not a harsh, he is really a well-disposed, easy soul, and requires but management, manner, occasional instalments--just to freshen the account--and a surety that he who debits is on the spot, to be a right royal king of credit. Only the account must never drivel. 'Stare aut crescere' appears to be his feeling on that point, and the departed Mr. Melchisedec undoubtedly understood him there; for the running on of the account looked deplorable and extraordinary now that Mr. Melchisedec was no longer in a position to run on with it, and it was precisely his doing so which had prevented it from being brought to a summary close long before. Both Barnes, the butcher; and Grossby, the confectioner, confessed that they, too, found it hard ever to say 'No' to him, and, speaking broadly, never could.

'Except once,'said Barnes, 'when he wanted me to let him have a ox to roast whole out on the common, for the Battle of Waterloo. I stood out against him on that. "No, no," says I, "I'll joint him for ye, Mr. Harrington. You shall have him in joints, and eat him at home";-ha! ha!'

'Just like him!' said Grossby, with true enjoyment of the princely disposition that had dictated the patriotic order.

'Oh!--there!' Kilne emphasized, pushing out his arm across the bar, as much as to say, that in anything of such a kind, the great Mel never had a rival.

'That "Marquis" affair changed him a bit,' said Barnes.

'Perhaps it did, for a time,' said Kilne. 'What's in the grain, you know. He couldn't change. He would be a gentleman, and nothing 'd stop him.'

'And I shouldn't wonder but what that young chap out in Portugal 'll want to be one, too; though he didn't bid fair to be so fine a man as his father.'

'More of a scholar,' remarked Kilne. 'That I call his worst fault-- shilly-shallying about that young chap. I mean his.' Kilne stretched a finger toward the dead man's house. 'First, the young chap's to be sent into the Navy; then it's the Army; then he's to be a judge, and sit on criminals; then he goes out to his sister in Portugal; and now there's nothing but a tailor open to him, as I see, if we're to get our money.'

'Ah! and he hasn't got too much spirit to work to pay his father's debts,' added Barnes. 'There's a business there to make any man's fortune-properly directed, I say. But, I suppose, like father like son, he'll becoming the Marquis, too. He went to a gentleman's school, and he's had foreign training. I don't know what to think about it. His sisters over there--they were fine women.'

'Oh! a fine family, every one of 'em! and married well!' exclaimed the publican.

'I never had the exact rights of that "Marquis" affair,' said Grossby; and, remembering that he had previously laughed knowingly when it was alluded to, pursued: 'Of course I heard of it at the time, but how did he behave when he was blown upon?'

The first volume of Evan Harrington opens with the death of Melchisedec Harrington, a tailor, and immediately establishes a central tension: the Harrington daughters' anxious efforts to distance themselves from the shop. Meredith's narrator reports that the demise of a respectable tailor does not ordinarily create a profound sensation, yet the novel's entire machinery turns on the social fallout of this particular death. The phrase "above buttons" in the first chapter title signals the preoccupation with rank and the precise gradations of gentility that will drive the plot.

Meredith's prose moves between ironic detachment and psychological intimacy. When the Countess de Saldar, one of the daughters, hears the words "Shop" and "Uniform" uttered at her father's funeral, the narrator notes that these two words are "at once poison and antidote." The observation captures how the family's shame and pride are inextricably linked, and how language itself becomes a battlefield for social identity.

Diction and the Weight of Words

Meredith's diction in this volume is notably precise and often ironic. The narrator describes the Major, a son-in-law, as a "walking book of reticence and the observances," compressing character into a single metaphor. The Countess's internal conflict is rendered through the stark contrast between "Shop" and "Uniform"—two words that encapsulate the novel's central opposition between trade and gentility. The narrator also uses legal and commercial language to describe emotional states: the Major's wife is "at liberty to weep" only when her husband is absent, as if grief were a privilege granted by contract. These lexical choices reinforce the theme of social performance, where even mourning must be managed according to unwritten rules.

Dialogue as Social Performance

Dialogue in the excerpts reveals characters' constant negotiation of status. The Countess, on board the Jocasta, murmurs "final adieux" with "twilight under her lids, but yet a smile," and later "hugged Rose, as to hug oblivion of the last few minutes into her." Her speech is theatrical, designed to project composure. In contrast, the Major's dialogue is implied through reported commands—he is "peremptory with his wife concerning his linen" and "did not care to hide his contempt" for tears. The sisters' conversation is filtered through the narrator's summary: they "sat dropping tears into one another's laps, in expectation of their sister the Countess." This indirect rendering of speech emphasizes the gap between what is said and what is felt, a gap that Meredith exploits for both comedy and pathos.

Description and the Material World

Meredith's descriptive passages anchor the social drama in physical details. The novel opens with a shop whose shutters "remained significantly closed," the adverb "significantly" alerting the reader to the symbolic weight of this closure. The funeral scene includes the detail of Mr. Goren's boat, a mundane object that becomes the vehicle for Evan's departure from Rose. The narrator notes that the Countess "could have slapped Rose for appearing so reserved and cold," a violent impulse that contrasts with her controlled exterior. These descriptions—the closed shutters, the boat, the suppressed slap—function as objective correlatives for the characters' inner conflicts, grounding abstract anxieties about class in tangible, often domestic, settings.

Structure and the Unfolding of Secrets

The volume's structure is built around revelations and concealments. The table of contents lists chapters with titles like "Above Buttons," "The Heritage or the Soy," and "In Which Evan Writes Himself Tailor," each promising a disclosure about identity. The narrative moves between Lymport and London, between the Harrington home and the houses of the married sisters, creating a geography of shame. The Major's refusal to attend the funeral because he cannot explain a tailor's death to a general is a comic but pointed illustration of how the family's secret dictates their movements. The Countess's strategic deployment of the word "Uniform" to drown out "Shop" on the Jocasta shows how the plot itself is driven by the effort to control information. Meredith withholds full knowledge of the characters' pasts, parceling out details through dialogue and narration, so that the reader, like the society the novel depicts, is always piecing together fragments.

Readers attentive to Meredith's diction will notice how often he uses the word "observances"—a term that applies equally to social etiquette and religious ritual. The Harrington family's crisis is not merely about a dead tailor; it is about the rituals that define gentility and the cost of maintaining them. As the volume closes, the shop becomes "the centre of attraction," suggesting that the secret cannot be contained. The novel rewards a careful reading of its verbal textures, where a single word can carry the weight of an entire social system.

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