Northanger Abbey Ch 1-10 Revisited

Jane Austen's irony takes no prisoners

“Jane Austen was not inflamed or inspired or even moved to be a genius; she simply was a genius. Her fire, what there was of it, began with herself; like the fire of the first man who rubbed two dry sticks together. Some would say that they were very dry sticks which she rubbed together. It is certain that she by her own artistic talent made interesting what thousands of superficially similar people would have made dull. There was nothing in her circumstances, or even in her materials, that seems obviously meant for the making of such an artist. It might seem a very wild use of the wrong word to say that Jane Austen was elemental. It might even seem even a little wanton to insist that she was original. Yet this objection would come from the critic not really considering what is meant by an element or an origin. Perhaps it might be as well expressed in what is really meant by an individual. Her ability is an absolute; it cannot be analysed into influences. She had been compared to Shakespeare; and in this sense she really does recall the joke about the man who said he could write like Shakespeare if he had the mind. In this case we seem to see a thousand spinsters sitting at a thousand tea-tables; and they could all have written “Emma” if they had had the mind.”

G.K. Chesterton in his introduction to Austen’s “Love and Friendship”

In his introduction to Austen’s Love and Friendship, G.K. Chesterton points out that Austen, “by her own artistic talent made interesting what thousands of superficially similar people would have made dull.” And I think this is a helpful point to keep in mind as we begin Northanger Abbey. As Austen parodies the gothic novel, she is reminding her readers that the story of an individual life does not need attempted kidnappings, mad wives in the attic, stolen gems, or haunted abbeys to be worthy of record. Every life, no matter how seemingly mundane and unromantic, is fraught with significance and purpose because we are moral and spiritual beings. There are dangers we must confront, battles we must fight; but they often take more subtle forms than those depicted in the gothic novels of Austen’s day.

Chapters 1-2

The opening chapter of Northanger Abbey is absolutely fabulous. Catherine Morland is immediately discounted from being a heroine:

“Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her.”

Hilariously, it is the very normalcy and goodness of her life, and her family, that make her seemingly “unworthy” of being a heroine. Her father is a clergyman who is neither poor nor neglected and, “not in the least addicted to locking up his daughters.” Her mother fails to die in childbirth when Catherine is born “as anybody might expect,” and continues in “excellent health.” Catherine herself possesses neither startling beauty nor an extraordinary intellect. Furthermore, Catherine has failed to excite any sort of admiration in any young man, though our narrator offers a reasonable explanation for this fact:

“There was not one lord in the neighbourhood; no—not even a baronet. There was not one family among their acquaintance who had reared and supported a boy accidentally found at their door—not one young man whose origin was unknown. Her father had no ward, and the squire of the parish no children.”

We are assured, however, that “when a young lady is to be a heroine…something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.” Finally, what precipitates Catherine’s trip to Bath is the very mundane matter of Mr. Allen’s gout, and the trip itself is devoid of the drama one would expect in a gothic novel: “Neither robbers nor tempests befriended them, nor one lucky overturn to introduce them to the hero.” The irony here is excellent-in real life, tempests and crashes are things to be avoided, neither friendly nor lucky. For the consumer of a gothic novel, however, they are very desirable.

Once in Bath, Catherine must contend not with storybook dangers and disappointments, but very ordinary ones. Mrs. Allen does not “reduce poor Catherine to all the desperate wretchedness” of a Cinderella-type figure, but her vacuousness means that she can hardly offer the guidance and direction a young woman like Catherine could use (more on this later); and her lack of acquaintance in Bath does put a damper on Catherine’s first ball. At said ball, Catherine doesn’t inspire any “rapturous wonder” in the men around her, but she does hear a stranger call her “a pretty girl.” As Austen points out, this means more to Catherine (hitherto rather plain) than any more effusive compliments would mean. Again, the ordinary instances of an ordinary life can be sufficiently dramatic if rightly considered.

As I discussed in the introduction, this novel will trace Catherine’s moral and psychological maturation. Twice in the opening chapters, Catherine’s lack of knowledge and experience is highlighted. The narrator tells us that, unlike a proper gothic (Mary Sue) heroine, Catherine: “could never learn or understand anything before it was taught” and that she is “inattentive, and occasionally stupid” at lessons. Catherine’s mind is “about as ignorant and uninformed as the female mind at seventeen usually is.” We should be asking ourselves what, in this novel, must Catherine be “taught” by experience and the mentorship of others? In what ways will she be “inattentive” such that she requires multiple lessons before the knowledge gained ‘sticks’?

Chapters 3-4

We’ve met our heroine, and now our hero enters the scene! Like Catherine, there’s a ‘normalcy’ about him atypical of the gothic hero. Mr. Tilney, “if not quite handsome, was very near it,” and his method of meeting Catherine is incredibly ordinary. They are introduced by the master of ceremonies, whose job it was to introduce individuals to one another and help them get dance partners. This isn’t Jane Eyre, with a dramatic moonlit meeting. Instead, Austen depicts an example of the ordinary circumstances by which most of us meet our future spouses. Yet, as the light of love reaches backwards, we realize how truly extraordinary the circumstances are. Had Catherine not attended that particular ball, had the Master of Ceremonies chosen to introduce a different partner to her…

Mr. Tilney, interestingly, reminds me of Austen herself. His humor is deeply ironic, and he is both charming and lively. In fact, he takes up the concerns of the narrator/Austen, pointing out that Catherine ought to be keeping a journal (one is reminded of the fact that many early novels were epistolary in form, The Moonstone being a late example of this initial trend). Mr. Tilney then offers two hilarious possibilities of how Catherine might describe him in said journal, as “a queer, half-witted man, who would make me dance with him, and distressed me by his nonsense” or “a very agreeable young man…seems a most extraordinary genius—hope I may know more of him.”

Catherine and Mr. Tilney also embark on an interesting conversation about gender roles. For all of Mr. Tilney’s ironic comments about the letter writing abilities of women (I couldn’t help but think of Mr. Betteredge at times) he offers a more serious reflection on the capabilities of men and women:

“I should no more lay it down as a general rule that women write better letters than men, than that they sing better duets, or draw better landscapes. In every power, of which taste is the foundation, excellence is pretty fairly divided between the sexes.”

Hear hear! In addition to Mr. Tilney’s positive traits, Catherine, in a surprisingly clear-sighted moment, makes this observation about his character: “Catherine feared, as she listened to their discourse, that he indulged himself a little too much with the foibles of others.” Mr. Tilney’s ability to notice, and find amusement in, the “foibles” of others, will haunt Catherine later; for what if it is her faults he is aware of and entertained by?

The ending of Chapter 3 offers another ironic reflection on gothic tropes, as well as an interesting reflection on the gender roles of the day, where women are expected to keep a tight lid on the expression of romantic feelings until a man makes the first move. We also get a hint at the importance of prudence as a virtue that Catherine must develop, with the narrator hoping that Catherine doesn’t dream too much of Mr. Tilney.

In Chapter 4, we meet another central character, Isabella Thorpe. I love Austen’s ironic description of Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Thorpe’s encounter: “Their joy on this meeting was very great, as well it might, since they had been contented to know nothing of each other for the last fifteen years.” Their conversation is representative of the shallow elements of Bath society, with each seeking to “one-up” the other; Mrs. Thorpe through the accomplishments of her children, Mrs. Allen through her superior dress. Each woman is “far more ready to give than to receive information, and each hearing very little of what the other said.”

We also get one of the most famous Austen quotes that is taken out of context: “Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.” The irony, of course, is that Catherine is neither really in love with Mr. Tilney, nor truly friends with Isabella, both of whom she has only just met. Both characters will play a role in Catherine’s maturation and moral development. With both, we should be asking questions about whether or not these individuals are good influences on Catherine, and whether or not Catherine is accurately judging their characters.

Isabella is admired by Catherine because she is,

“four years older than Miss Morland, and at least four years better informed…she could compare the balls of Bath with those of Tunbridge, its fashions with the fashions of London; could rectify the opinions of her new friend in many articles of tasteful attire; could discover a flirtation between any gentleman and lady who only smiled on each other; and point out a quiz through the thickness of a crowd.” (Note: ‘quiz’ at this point in time meant either “an eccentric person or thing” or, as a verb, teasing/making fun of others).

Fashion, flirtation, and teasing are the content of Isabella’s superior ‘information.’ And Catherine falls headlong for Isabella’s superficial charm and gushing manner.

Chapters 5-6

In these chapters, we begin to experience a purposeful sort of ‘dramatic irony,’ where, with the narrator’s help, we perceive and know things about other characters that Catherine appears to be entirely unaware of. And nowhere is this more apparent than in the character of Isabella Thorpe. In both Chapters 5 & 6, Isabella hints that she has some sort of “attachment,” but Catherine remains oblivious because she “was not experienced enough in the finesse of love, or the duties of friendship, to know when delicate raillery was properly called for, or when a confidence should be forced.” Isabella claims that, “There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves; it is not my nature. My attachments are always excessively strong.” Yet, after calling her ‘friend’ Miss Andrews “one of the sweetest creatures in the world,” she badmouths her a few lines later as “amazingly insipid.” And in one of the most comedic moments so far, Isabella chases after the “two odious young men” in order to “show [her] independence” and “her resolution of humbling the sex.”

It is increasingly clear to the reader that Isabella is a disingenuous young woman obsessed with earning male admiration. She is far from being a healthy influence on Catherine. On the topic of the absent Mr. Tilney, Catherine “received every possible encouragement to continue to think of him; and his impression on her fancy was not suffered therefore to weaken” as a result of Isabella’s influence. According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, prudence is the virtue “that disposes practical reason to discern our true good in every circumstance and to choose the right means of achieving it.”¹ Left to her own devices, Catherine is inclined to be prudent in regards to her affection for Mr. Tilney. She tells Isabella: “But you should not persuade me that I think so very much about Mr. Tilney, for perhaps I may never see him again” claiming she will not be “miserable” if that ends up being the case. However, Isabella’s influence is leading her away from the “true good” she has discerned (i.e. not obsessing about a man she may never see again). And lest we put all the blame on Isabella, we must remember that Catherine is responsible for allowing Isabella to have this level of influence over her:

“The progress of the friendship between Catherine and Isabella was quick as its beginning had been warm, and they passed so rapidly through every gradation of increasing tenderness that there was shortly no fresh proof of it to be given to their friends or themselves.”

Rather than forming a rapid and imprudent romantic attachment to a problematic hero, as in a gothic novel, Catherine is forming a rapid and imprudent attachment to a problematic friend. And again, this tends to be the kind of “danger” pretty much every one of us will encounter in their lives, whereas not all of us will fall in love with, say, a Heathcliff or Cathy. Ordinary perils can be just as harmful as extraordinary ones, perhaps even more so because of their subtlety.

In Chapter 5 we also encounter Austen’s famous defense of the novel. At a time when the novel was still relatively new to the literary scene, it was considered a lesser art form because of its commercial nature and potentially scandalous content. Austen refuses to take part in the “ungenerous and impolitic custom so common with novel-writers, of degrading by their contemptuous censure the very performances, to the number of which they are themselves adding.” She claims that novels “have afforded more extensive and unaffected pleasure than those of any other literary corporation in the world” and are full of “genius, wit, and taste.” She mentions a few titles by name² and offers an excellent definition of what a good novel ought to be:

“[a] work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are conveyed to the world in the best-chosen language.”

This defense of the novel is important to keep in mind as we move forward; how different characters react to novels as a genre, and the kinds of readers they are, will serve as important indicators of their moral and psychological maturity.

Chapters 6-7

With the entrance of James Morland and John Thorpe, we have two of the three brother/sister pairings at the heart of this novel complete. Moving forward, it will be worth comparing and contrasting these sibling pairings in order to tease out Austen’s themes.

Right away, we know John Thorpe is not a particularly admirable character, for he is introduced driving his carriage: “with all the vehemence that could most fitly endanger the lives of himself, his companion, and his horse.” Catherine and James’ genuinely affectionate greeting is contrasted with the ‘careless’ way John greets Isabella. When Mr. Thorpe later greets the rest of his family, he immediately criticizes their looks. Once again, we find ourselves noticing and knowing more than Catherine herself does, for had Catherine “been more expert in the development of other people’s feelings, and less simply engrossed by her own,” she might have observed that something is going on between James and Isabella. How serious Isabella’s feelings are can best be discerned by this ironic description: “so pure and uncoquettish were her feelings, that, though they overtook and passed the two offending young men in Milsom Street, she was so far from seeking to attract their notice, that she looked back at them only three times.”

We receive further confirmation of John Thorpe’s less than stellar character with Austen’s cutting description. He “seemed fearful of being…too much like a gentleman unless he were easy where he ought to be civil, and impudent where he might be allowed to be easy.” Like his sister, Mr. Thorpe has a tendency to exaggerate and/or speak falsehoods in order to cultivate a specific image and curry favor with the opposite sex. John Thorpe also asserts that “novels are all full of nonsense and stuff,” with few (inconsistently asserted) exceptions. He also dismisses the novel Camilla without having done more than skim the very beginning of it, showing that he is a man who makes hasty and prejudiced judgements on inaccurate information. This tendency will cause trouble later in the novel. Catherine, on the other hand, unreservedly enjoys the “raised, restless, and frightened imagination” caused by her novel reading.

We also see John Thorpe testing Catherine’s maturity and morality. He offers to drive Catherine alone in an open carriage. Prudence makes her feel “some distress, from a doubt of the propriety of accepting such an offer.” Once again we see that Catherine has some level of “practical reason” to “discern the true good” in specific instances, but doesn’t yet know how to act upon her discernment. Later, though she finds fault with Thorpe’s manners, her judgement is “bought off.” According to the narrator,

“Had she been older or vainer, such attacks might have done little; but, where youth and diffidence are united, it requires uncommon steadiness of reason to resist the attraction of being called the most charming girl in the world, and of being so very early engaged as a partner.”

As a result, she essentially lies when her brother asks her what she thinks about Mr. Thorpe. Catherine’s immaturity, the “unsteadiness” of her reason (or prudence), and her tendency to defer to others have led her astray. John Thorpe may not be a seductive nobleman bent on destroying Catherine’s virtue, but he nevertheless poses a threat. Such a threat may seem “dull” on the surface, but Austen’s “genius” is such that we feel as concerned for and interested in Catherine as we do about a heroine like Jane Eyre, who faces more extraordinary threats. Indeed, in some ways we may feel more interested in Catherine, precisely because her situation is one we can all too easily find ourselves in. In seeing her ‘ordinary’ (and relatable) life turned into a novel, we realize that maybe, just maybe, we are heroes and heroines of a story too. And of course, this is part of the good news of the gospel message- we each really are part of a grand drama being written by the greatest Author of all, and our choices within that drama really do have significance.

A final note for these chapters- James Morland, even more so than Catherine perhaps, is blind to the faults of the Thorpe siblings. He calls John Thorpe “good-natured,” despite being a bit of a “rattle,” and Isabella “thoroughly unaffected and amiable.” He also is unable to discern the “true good” in regards to his and Catherine’s relationship with the Thorpe siblings.

Chapters 8-9

Mr. Tilney is back in town, and he has a sister. I love how Catherine “unthinkingly throw[s] away a fair opportunity of considering him lost to her forever, by being married already” when she first sees Mr. Tilney and his sister. Austen gets that one of the most annoying tropes in gothic novels (and today’s rom-coms) is when the protagonists cause unnecessary drama by making unnecessary assumptions. Austen cleverly uses her introduction of Eleanor Tilney to shed further light on Isabella Thorpe’s character (or lack thereof):

“Miss Tilney had a good figure, a pretty face, and a very agreeable countenance; and her air, though it had not all the decided pretension, the resolute stylishness of Miss Thorpe’s, had more real elegance. Her manners showed good sense and good breeding; they were neither shy nor affectedly open; and she seemed capable of being young, attractive, and at a ball without wanting to fix the attention of every man near her, and without exaggerated feelings of ecstatic delight or inconceivable vexation on every little trifling occurrence.”

Indeed, immediately after this paragraph, we see Isabella displaying “exaggerated feelings of ecstatic delight,” when she rejoins Catherine and “inconceivable vexation” when James Morland asks what she and Catherine are talking about. We also see further examples of Isabella’s inconsistent character; she vows not to leave Catherine until Mr. Thorpe shows up to dance with Catherine as promised, but drops that resolution in order to gratify her own selfish desire to dance with James Morland.

Meanwhile, Catherine finds herself called to fulfill her role as a heroine:

“To be disgraced in the eye of the world, to wear the appearance of infamy while her heart is all purity, her actions all innocence, and the misconduct of another the true source of her debasement, is one of those circumstances which peculiarly belong to the heroine’s life, and her fortitude under it what particularly dignifies her character. Catherine had fortitude too; she suffered, but no murmur passed her lips.

Rather than having her reputation unfairly compromised by a Lord Byron type figure, Catherine is merely forced to wait to dance until Mr. Thorpe shows up and so she appears to be a “wallflower.” Yet, to Catherine, this ‘ordinary’ suffering is plenty painful and still requires the practice of virtue. She further shows her character when she refuses Mr. Tilney’s invitation to dance rather than ‘break off’ her ‘engagement’ to Mr. Thorpe. One can only imagine how differently Isabella, for example, would act in a similar scenario.

Indeed, Catherine’s general politeness and modesty when it comes to her interaction with the opposite sex is in marked contrast to Isabella’s flirtatious combativeness. In fact, Isabella seems to embody some of the worst feminine stereotypes in her exaggerated emotionality, constant attention-seeking, and focus on romance and fashion. Her brother, on the other hand, embodies some of the worst masculine stereotypes in his lack of consideration for the feelings of others, his egoism, and his obsession with “sports.” Again, we should be contrasting their behavior with that of the Tilneys moving forward.

I love that Catherine’s response to a disappointing party is to a) find everyone annoying, b) flee the premises as quickly as possible, c) eat her feelings, and d) sleep like the dead. And people say classics aren’t “relatable.” After waking up refreshed and ready to fulfill the “first wish of her heart” and “improve her acquaintance with Miss Tilney,” her good resolutions are immediately tested. She is induced to go on a drive with Mr. Thorpe the propriety of which is ambiguous. The vapid Mrs. Allen, who “not being at all in the habit of conveying any expression herself by a look, was not aware of its being ever intended by anybody else,” is clearly unable to offer any sort of guidance to Catherine.

And Catherine receives her (cruel and unusual) punishment in the less than stellar time she has alone with Mr. Thorpe. Gothic parodies abound in their conversation; the humorous riff on the runaway horse/carriage scene, Mr. Thorpe’s clumsy inquiries into the state of Mr. Allen’s fortune (and Catherine’s relationship with the Allens) hinting at the ‘heiress being chased for her money,’ and a buffonish version of the heavy-drinking libertine embodied by Mr. Thorpe. Some of the most biting prose of the novel occurs in this chapter, as Austen absolutely eviscerates the character of John Thorpe:

“For [Catherine] had not been brought up to…know to how many idle assertions and impudent falsehoods the excess of vanity will lead. Her own family were plain, matter-of-fact people who seldom aimed at wit of any kind…they were not in the habit therefore of telling lies to increase their importance, or of asserting at one moment what they would contradict the next. She reflected on the affair for some time in much perplexity, and was more than once on the point of requesting from Mr. Thorpe a clearer insight into his real opinion on the subject; but she checked herself, because it appeared to her that he did not excel in giving those clearer insights, in making those things plain which he had before made ambiguous.”

I think it is worth reflecting on this passage in light of an excellent insight offered by C.S. Lewis in his essay on Austen (discussed in the Introductory post):

“The hard core of morality and even of religion seems to me to be just what makes good comedy possible. 'Principles' or 'seriousness' are essential to Jane Austen's art. Where there is no norm, nothing can be ridiculous, except for a brief moment of unbalanced provincialism in which we may laugh at the merely unfamiliar. Unless there is something about which the author is never ironical, there can be no true irony in the work.”

This section also offers excellent hints at the trajectory which Catherine’s moral growth needs to take. The narrator informs us that, “little as Catherine was in the habit of judging for herself, and unfixed as were her general notions of what men ought to be, she could not entirely repress a doubt…of [Mr. Thorpe’s] being altogether completely agreeable. It was a bold surmise, for he was Isabella’s brother; and she had been assured by James that his manners would recommend him to all her sex.” Again, what Catherine needs to develop is the virtue of prudence and the strength of character to exercise this moral faculty independently of the opinions of others, even of the opinions of those she cares for. At this point in the novel, her practical reason isn’t strong enough to fully discern (and openly admit) the truth that Mr. Thorpe is bad news, partially because she is used to letting others be ‘prudent’ for her. In addition, her “general notions of what men ought to be” are “unfixed” because she, like many a teenager, has not yet spent time in serious thought about such matters. Finally, she is now separated from the moral guidance offered by her parents, and the shelter offered by her country home. All of these factors contribute to make a recipe for either potential moral disaster, or potential moral growth.

The chapter ends on a somewhat light-hearted note. Catherine has, alas, missed her chance to meet with her hero. On the other hand, we get her hilarious conversation with Mrs. Allen, including the gem that is Mrs. Allen only remembering that Mrs. Tilney is dead because of an anecdote about a pearl necklace.

Chapter 10

The Isabella insincerity meter goes through the roof in this chapter.

Isabella to James: “I shall not speak another word to you all the rest of the evening”

Narrator: “Isabella smiled incredulously and talked the rest of the evening to James.”

Isabella also claims to be “immoderately sick of Bath,” to be hesitant about dancing with James beyond the number of times that was socially acceptable at the time, and to want to spend time with her dear friend Catherine, all of which statements are manifestly not true. Her insincerity, her willingness to push the bounds of propriety, and her love of the artificial world of Bath are in direct contrast to what we see of Eleanor Tilney in this chapter.

Unlike Isabella, Eleanor enjoys country walks (representative of preferring the real to the artificial) and is a genuinely affectionate sister. Her conversation is devoid of exaggerated sentimentality or attention-seeking. She is keen enough to observe Catherine’s preference for Mr. Tilney, but does not tease Catherine about these feelings or artificially puff them up, as Isabella does. What’s more, Catherine’s unconscious revelation of her feelings (in keeping with her generally modest character) is completely unlike Isabella’s attention-seeking “hints” about her own feelings for Catherine’s brother.

And of course, if we are going to contrast Isabella and Eleanor, we must contrast Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Tilney. Mr. Thorpe doesn’t actually ask Catherine to dance, but claims a prior “right” to her company, treating her as an object to increase his reputation with his fellow men. Mr. Tilney, by contrast, asks Catherine to dance with the utmost politeness, and proceeds to enter into one of the more famous hero/heroine dialogues in an Austen novel. In considering a country dance as “an emblem of marriage,” he reveals a great deal about his sound moral character. He asserts that “fidelity and complaisance are the principal duties of both.” Both marriage and a country dance are,

“formed for the advantage of each; and that when once entered into, they belong exclusively to each other till the moment of its dissolution; that it is their duty, each to endeavour to give the other no cause for wishing that he or she had bestowed themselves elsewhere, and their best interest to keep their own imaginations from wandering towards the perfections of their neighbours, or fancying that they should have been better off with anyone else.”

Despite the humorous tone of the dialogue, Mr. Tilney’s assertions represent sound moral sense. Of note, especially when we are contrasting his attitude with Mr. Thorpe’s, is his belief that both parties must consider the needs and interests of the other. Mr. Tilney exemplifies this in the way he talks with Catherine rather than at her, as Mr. Thorpe does. While there may be certain roles specific to each gender (ex. the power of asking vs the power of refusal), the moral duties of marriage are binding to both. When we consider the historic tendency of women being held to a higher standard of marital fidelity and sexual purity than men were, this is a pretty bold manifesto.

A final piece I’d like to point out in this chapter is the theme of Bath as an ambivalent location. At the pump-room, a place where people go to see and be seen, while shallowly engaging with Bath’s history as a place of spiritual/physical healing, the narrator takes special care to point out what makes Catherine and Miss Tilney’s conversation different than the conversation of those around them:

“Though in all probability not an observation was made, nor an expression used by either which had not been made and used some thousands of times before, under that roof, in every Bath season, yet the merit of their being spoken with simplicity and truth, and without personal conceit, might be something uncommon.”

For the narrator/Austen, Bath is a place that encourages artifice, exaggeration, and egoism in its inhabitants. Mr. Tilney offers a further critique of Bath in his conversation with Catherine. He describes the typical thought-process of the regular Bath-goer so: “‘For six weeks, I allow Bath is pleasant enough; but beyond that, it is the most tiresome place in the world.’ You would be told so by people of all descriptions, who come regularly every winter, lengthen their six weeks into ten or twelve, and go away at last because they can afford to stay no longer.”

This negative picture of Bath is mitigated by Catherine herself. Catherine points out the genuine opportunities for amusement offered by Bath. There is a greater wealth of experience offered by Bath in comparison to her former life. Yet Catherine escapes the ennui of the regular Bath-goer because of her “fresh feelings” and “honest relish of balls and plays, and everyday sights,” which Mr. Tilney asserts is “past” with ‘fashionable society.’ I can’t help comparing the discourse around the drawbacks and benefits of social media usage with the drawbacks/benefits of Bath (I’d love to hear if any others saw this connection!). A final reason Catherine is able to resist the ‘downsides’ of Bath is her genuine love for others. In a very sweet moment, she asserts that if she could only have her family with her, she would be perfectly happy in Bath. Again, this genuine affection for family and friends is in contrast to the superficial affection for, or total disdain of, family/friends experienced by the the average Bath-goer. Just think about how the Thorpe siblings treat one another (and their mother) as well as their so-called “friends.”

We wrap up the chapter with the Tilneys and Catherine engaging to go on a country walk together the next day. Whether this anticipated joy will happen remains to be seen.

Bit and Bants I didn’t get to discuss: the gothic parody of Mr. Tilney rescuing Catherine from the attentions of the ‘n’er do well’ villain (Mr. Thorpe), the absolutely hysterical discussion of women’s dressing habits, the ridiculous interactions between Mrs. Thorpe and Mrs. Allen (their self-involved ‘conversation’ feels very emblematic of modern political/internet discourse), Mr. Tilney and Mr. Thorpe (with vastly different styles) each trying to flirt so hard with Catherine and our sweet sweet girl completely missing it

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Northanger Abbey Reading Schedule

1. Friday, July 11th: Intro and Reading Schedule

2. Wednesday, July 16th: Chapters 1-10 (Vol 1 Chapters 1-10)

3. Wednesday, July 23rd: Chapters 11-17 (Vol 1 Chapters 11-15, Vol 2 Chapters 1-2)

4. Wednesday, July 30th: Chapters 18-23 (Vol 2 Chapters 3-8)

5. Wednesday, August 6th: Chapters 24-28 (Vol 2 Chapters 9-13)

6. Wednesday, August 13th: Chapters 29-End (Vol 2 Chapters 14-16)

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What We’re Reading Now/Next:

July

Everything Sad is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri

August

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

September

Why Literature Still Matters by Jason Baxter

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1. https://www.catholicculture.org/culture/library/catechism/index.cfm?recnum=5030

2. I have read two of them, Camilla. I…did not love it as much as Austen seems to. It was an entertaining read in a lot of ways, but I couldn’t stand the main hero and heroine and the constantly manufactured misunderstandings/lack of simple communication between them. The side characters were much more fascinating. Belinda, on the other hand, is fantastic. Cannot recommend it enough.