Portrait of Frances Burney by Edward Francisco Burney (c.

1784-5)

Bildungsroman, n.

A novel dealing with one person's formative years or spiritual education.

[ORIGIN: German, from Bildung ‘education’ + Roman ‘a novel’.]

The gentlemen, as they passed and repassed, looked as if they thought we were quite at their disposal, and only waiting for the honour of their commands; and they sauntered about, in a careless, indolent manner, as if with a view to keep us in suspense. I don't speak of this in regard to Miss Mirvan and myself only, but to the ladies in general: and I thought it so provoking, that I determined in my own mind that, far from humouring such airs, I would rather not dance at all, than with any one who would seem to think me ready to accept the first partner who would condescend to take me.

(Evelina, p. 120)

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

(Evelina, p. 115)

Francis Hayman’s 1747 painting of David Garrick as Ranger (with Hannah Pritchard) in Benjamin Hoadly’s The Suspicious Husband.

Drury Lane Theatre, c. 1775

The King’s Theatre, Haymarket

The Little Theatre, Haymarket

St. James’ Park

Kensington Gardens

Ranelagh Gardens

The Rotunda at Ranelagh Gardens, painted by Canaletto (1754)

Vauxhall Gardens

Vauxhall Gardens

Marybone Gardens

The Pantheon, Oxford Street

I walked on at a very quick pace, and soon, to my great consternation, perceived the poor lady seated upright in a ditch. I flew to her with unfeigned concern at her situation. She was sobbing, nay, almost roaring, and in the utmost agony of rage and terror. As soon as she saw me, she redoubled her cries; but her voice was so broken, I could not understand a word she said […] Almost bursting with passion, she pointed to her feet, and with frightful violence she actually tore the ground with her hands. I then saw that her feet were tied together with a strong rope, which was fastened to the upper branch of a tree, even with a hedge which ran along the ditch where she sat.

(Evelina, p. 259-60)

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

(Evelina, p. 405)

This action seemed immediately to calm them both, as the joy of the Captain was converted into resentment, and the wrath of Madame Duval into fear: for he put his hands upon her shoulders, and gave her so violent a shake, that she screamed out for help; assuring her, at the same time, that if she had been one ounce less old, or less ugly, she should have had it all returned in her own face.

(Evelina, p. 164)

Her dress was in such disorder, that I was quite sorry to have her figure exposed to the servants, who all of them, in imitation of her master, hold her in derision: however the disgrace was unavoidable […] so forlorn, so miserable a figure, I never before saw her. Her head-dress had fallen off, her linen was torn, her negligee had not a pin left in it, her petticoats she was obliged to hold on, and her shoes were perpetually slipping off. She was covered with dirt, weeds, and filth, and her face was really horrible; for the pomatum and powder from her head, and the dust from the road, were quite pasted on her skin by her tears, which, with her rouge, made so frightful a mixture, that she hardly looked human.

(Evelina, p. 260-1)

John Hamilton Mortimer’s illustration of the Madame Duval following the attack

(4th edn of Evelina, 1779)

John Hamilton Mortimer’s illustration of the monkey

attacking Lovel (4th edn of Evelina, 1779)

Mrs. Selwyn, Lord Merton, and Mr. Coverley, burst into a loud, immoderate, ungovernable fit of laughter, in which they were joined by the Captain, till, unable to support himself, he rolled on the floor.

(Evelina, p. 547)

What a commotion has this mischief-loving Captain raised! Were I to remain here long, even the society of my dear Maria could scarce compensate for the disturbances which he excites.

(Evelina, p. 551)

Judith Lowder Newton, ‘Evelina: A Chronicle of Assault’, in Fanny Burney’s Evelina, ed. Harold Bloom (New York: Chelsea House, 1988), pp. 59-83.

Argues that the novel presents ‘a world in which male control takes the form of assault, and a world in which male assault is the most central expression of power’ (p. 59).

“O Miss Anville,” cried he, taking my hand, “if you knew with what transport I would dedicate to you not only the present but all the future time allotted to me, you would not injure me by making suchan apology.”

I could not think of a word to say to this, nor to a great many other equally fine speeches with which he ran on […]

(Evelina, p. 201)

Soon after, he said that he believed the coachman was going the wrong way; and he called to his servant, and gave him directions. Then again addressing himself to me, “How often, how assiduously have I sought an opportunity of speaking to you, without the presence of that brute, Captain Mirvan! Fortune has now kindly favoured me with one; and permit me,” again seizing my hand, “permit me to use it in telling you that I adore you.”

(Evelina, p. 201)

“[…] now, now that I find you equally incomparable in both, all words, all powers of speech, are too feeble to express the admiration I feel of your excellencies.”

“Indeed,” cried I, “if your thoughts had any connection with your language, you would never suppose that I could give credit to praise so very much above my desert.”

This speech, which I made very gravely, occasioned still stronger protestations; which he continued to pour forth, and I continued to disclaim […]

(Evelina, p. 202)

“You amaze me,” answered he (still holding me), “I cannot imagine what you apprehend. Surely you can have no doubts of my honour?”

He drew me towards him as he spoke. I was frightened dreadfully, and could hardly say, "No, Sir, no, —none at all: only Mrs. Mirvan,—I think she will be uneasy.”

“Whence this alarm, my dearest angel?-What can you fear?—my life is at your devotion, and can you, then, doubt my protection?”

And so saying, he passionately kissed my hand.Never, in my whole life, have I been so terrified. I broke

forcibly from him, and, putting my head out of the window, called aloud to the man to stop. Where we then were, I know not; but I saw not a human being, or I should have called for help.

(Evelina, p. 202)

This rather softened me; which advantage he no sooner received, than he determined to avail himself of; for he flung himself on his knees, and pleaded with so much submission, that I was really obliged to forgive him, because his humiliation made me quite ashamed: and, after that, he would not let me rest till I gave him my word that I would not complain of him to Mrs. Mirvan.

(Evelina, p. 204)

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. This latter seems very desirous of appearing a man of gaiety and spirit; but his vivacity is so low-bred, and his whole behaviour so forward and disagreeable, that I should prefer the company of dullness itself, even as that goddess is described by Pope, to that of this sprightly young man.

(Evelina, p. 295)

I must acknowledge, nothing could be more disagreeable to me, than being seen by Sir Clement Willoughby with a party at once so vulgar in themselves, and so familiar to me.

(Evelina, p. 329)

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 town where I at present reside.

(Evelina, p. 288)

Vauxhall Gardens

When the signal was given for them to set off, the poor creatures, feeble and frightened, ran against each other: and, neither of them able to support the shock, they both fell on the ground.

Lord Merton and Mr. Coverley flew to their assistance. Seats were brought for them; and they each drank a glass of wine. They complained of being much bruised; for, heavy and helpless, they had not been able to save themselves, but fell with their whole weight upon the gravel. However, as they seemed equal sufferers, both parties were too eager to have the affair deferred.

Again therefore they set off, and hobbled along, nearly even with each other, for some time; yet frequently, to the inexpressible diversion of the company, they stumbled and tottered; and the confused hallooing of "Now, Coverley!" "Now, Merton!" run from side to side during the whole affair.

Not long after, a foot of one of the poor women slipt, and with great force she came again to the ground. Involuntarily, I sprung forward to assist her; but Lord Merton, to whom she did not belong, stopped me, calling out, "No foul play! No foul play!

Mr. Coverley then, repeating the same words, went himself to help her, and insisted that the other should stop. A debate ensued; but the poor creature was too much hurt to move, and declared her utter inability to make another attempt. Mr. Coverley was quite brutal: he swore at her with unmanly rage, and seemed scarce able to refrain even from striking her.

(Evelina, pp. 447-8)

Austen and the epistolary form

• Love and Freindship (1790). Written when JA was 14. A parody of the romantic novel.

• Lady Susan (1794?). A short epistolary novel about a ruthless, scheming widow.

• Elinor and Marianne (before 1796). JA’s first full-length novel, now lost. Reworked as Sense and Sensibility.

• First Impressions (1796). Thought to have been epistolary (now lost). Reworked into what became Pride and Prejudice.

O, Sir!--was there ever such another man as Lord Orville?--Yes, one other now resides at Berry Hill! (457)

(Evelina, p. 457)

I have just received your letter,-and it has almost broken my heart!--Oh, Sir! the illusion is over, indeed! how vainly have I flattered, how miserably deceived myself! […] Oh, Lord Orville, how little do you know the evils I owe to you! how little suppose that, when most dignified by your attention, I was most to be pitied,-and when most exalted by your notice, you were most my enemy! (459)

(Evelina, pp. 459)

I am,With the utmost affection,

gratitude, and duty,Your

Evelina ------.

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

(Evelina, p. 115)

Now then, therefore, for the first – and probably the last time I shall ever own the name, permit me to sign myself,

Most dear Sir,Your gratefully affectionate,

Evelina Belmont

(Evelina, p. 553)

Adieu, my most honoured, most reverenced, most beloved father! For by what other name can I call you? I have no happiness or sorrow, no hope or fear, but what your kindness bestows, or your displeasure may cause. You will not, I am sure, send a refusal without reasons unanswerable, and therefore I shall cheerfully acquiesce.

(Evelina, pp. 114-5)

Will you forgive me if I own that I have first written an account of this transaction to Miss Mirvan? – and that I even thought of concealing it from you? – Short-lived, however, was the ungrateful idea, and sooner will I risk the justice of your displeasure, then unworthily betray your generous confidence.

(Evelina, p. 378)

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.

(Evelina, p. 279)

William Marshall Craig, Evelina acknowledging her father

(early 1800s)

Shall I call you by the loved, the respected title of husband?-No, you disclaim it!-the father of my infant? – No, you doom it to infamy! – the lover who rescued me from a forced marriage? – No, you have yourself betrayed me!-the friend from whom I hoped succour and protection?-No, you have consigned me to misery and destruction!

(Evelina, p. 477)

[…] raising both himself and me, he brought me into the drawing-room, shut the door, and took me to the window; where, looking at me with great earnestness, "Poor unhappy Caroline!" cried he; and, to my inexpressible concern, he burst into tears. Need I tell you, my dear Sir, how mine flowed at the sight?

(Evelina, p. 477)