3.5 stars
Unlike Evelina, Camilla is not a comedy of errors, or a comedy of manners. It is over long (my edition has 913 pages) and it's point isn't immediately apparent. I enjoyed the beginning, which was, though slow, full of fun character moments, and it's set in one of my favourite periods, and was therefore pleasant to read.
However, the middle was very soap operatic, and it isn't until the very end when the full point of what Burney was doing here became apparent. So if the middle section were truncated I'd have given it a solid 4 stars.
Warning, spoilers ahead
The novel focuses mainly on two sisters: Camilla and Eugenia Tyrold, and, to a lesser extent on their beautiful but vain and spoilt cousin Indiana. The list of characters is very long and I won't go into all of them. Sufficed to say that Camilla Tyrold, the heroine of this novel, is pretty and intelligent and very kind, but young and naive. She is the favourite of her rich uncle, Sir Hugh, who decides that she will become his heiress. However, no sooner had he formed this idea, did he become responsible for Eugenia contracting small pox. As a result of his mishandling, Eugenia becomes ill, and in the end, very disfigured. Having robbed her of her beauty, Sir Hugh determines that it is she who will become his heiress. To do justice to his feelings of guilt, he also promises her his nephew, who is on his grand tour at this time, for a husband, and then makes a tutor teach her everything about the classics, to make her learned and thus fit to be the wife of his nephew, who he imagines will be super clever after all his travels.
The romantic hero here is Edgar Mandlebert, a young man who is as virtuous and beautiful as Camilla, and who falls for her hard. But between the early pages when we have an idea of what he wants and the last pages, when he finally gets it, every kind of catastrophe is thrown between the lovers. In these parts, the book becomes like an 18th century soap opera, and since I'm not a fan of soaps, I found this very tedious. In essence, though, Edgar's tutor, who hates women and has been, himself, disappointed in love, urges him not to propose to Camilla until he has 'tested' her: made sure that she's virtuous and loves him completely.
What follows is a series of incidents, all of them essentially the same: Edgar tells Camilla not to do something (usually associate with some person he thinks is not virtuous or an unfit friend to an innocent young woman); then Camilla, mostly by no design of her own, is embroiled into something with just that person; Edgar comes in at the worst possible moment and sees her at it; he's disappointed and determines not to propose to her; then he sees her do something sweet and kind, like stand up for the poor, or care for the sick or whatever; and then all his love for her rises again. Then he tells her again not to associate with someone, and again he comes in at the worst possible moment... you see where I'm going with this.
To me, this made Edgar more unfit for Camilla than Camilla for him. Of course, in my 21st century eyes, all this seemed perfectly absurd. I thought Edgar a complete nincompoop and despaired for having such a miserable idiot for a romantic hero. Nor did I like Camilla very much either, since she was so weak, so dramatic, and very passive in all that happened.
I can't say they have grown very much in my esteem by the end, either, but there were a lot of things that mitigated their behaviour that I understood by the end. Again, probably an 18th century person would have seen this from the start, but to my modern mind, I wished for more activity from my heroine, and for her to shake that idiot Edgar and talk sense into him. But by the end, when we have seen two perfectly nice and kind and sensible men lose their heads and try to get engaged to women completely unsuitable to them because their infatuations blinded them (Malmond to Indiana and Hal to Camilla), it becomes clear that Edgar was worried of just such a match. He loved Camilla so much, that he was afraid he didn't see her as she really was and would make both of them unhappy speeding into marriage. It was satisfying, I can't deny, to see him apologise to her for his misapprehension, and to see those two idiots finally get engaged.
But the novel would be nothing, if it weren't for some of the side characters. My favourite by far is Eugenia Tyrold, who was a very uncommon heroine, in that she's neither beautiful nor stupid - the very opposite of the idiot ingenue that is normally the heroine in books of this period. She too is not worldly, which is how she manages to fall into the snares of unscrupulous fortune-hunter Bellamy. But her story is far more interesting than Camilla's, and her eventual reward so much more deserved.
In the end, I'm glad I persevered with it. The ending definitely did the story justice. Burney could have made her point and made the book better, by cutting a huge chunk out of the middle. But aside from that, if you like 18th century fiction like I do, it's well worth reading.