Transcript 18 th January - Individual.utoronto.ca

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 such
an 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)