Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey, Ed. Claire Grogan, Broadview Literary Texts, 2004.

No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her born to be an heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, he own person and disposition were all equally against her. (Opening, 37)

Her mother wished her to learn music; and Catherine was sure she should like it, for she was very fond of tinkling the keys of the old forlorn spinet; so, at eight years old she began. She learnt a year, and could not bear it;—and Mrs. Morland, who did not insist on her daughters being accomplished in spite of incapacity or distaste, allowed her to leave off. (38)

Such was Catherine Morland at ten. At fifteen, appearances were mending; she began to curl her hair and long for balls; her complexion improved; her features were softened by plumpness and colour, her eyes gained more animation, and her figure more consequence. Her love of dirt gave way to an inclination for finery, and she grew clean as she grew smart; she had now the pleasure of sometimes hearing her father and mother remark on her personal improvement. “Catherine grows quite a good-looking girl,—she is almost pretty to day,” were words which caught her ears now and then; and how welcome were the sounds! To look almost pretty is an acquisition of higher delight to a girl who has been looking plain the first fifteen years of her life, … (39)

…and it was not very wonderful that Catherine, who had by nature nothing heroic about her, should prefer cricket, … at the age of fourteen, to books—or at least books of information—for, provided that nothing like useful knowledge could be gained from them provided they were all story and no reflection, she had never any objection to books at all. But from fifteen to seventeen she was in training for a heroine; she read all such works as heroines must read to supply their memories with those quotations which are so serviceable… (39-40)

From Pope, she learnt to censure those who “bear about the mockery of woe.” (Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunately Lady”, 40)

From Gray, that “Many a flower is born to blush unseen, / And waste its fragrance on the desert air.” (Misquote from Thomas Gray’s Elegy in a Country Churchyard 1751, 40)

From Thompson, that “It is a delightful task / To teach the young idea how to shoot.” (The Seasons, “Spring” 1728, 40)

And from Shakspeare [sic] she gained a great store of information—amongst the rest, that / “Trifles light as air, / Are, to the jealous, confirmation strong, / As proofs of Holy Writ.” (misquoted, Othello III.iii.322)

That “The poor beetle, which we tread upon, / In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great / As when a giant dies.” (Measure for Measure, III.i.79, 40)

And that a young woman in love always looks “like Patience on a monument/ Smiling at Grief.” (Twelfth Night, II.iv.117)

…though she could not write sonnets, she brought herself to read them; and though there seemed no chance of her throwing a whole party into raptures by a prelude on the pianoforte, of her own composition, she could listen to other people’s performance with very little fatigue. Her greatest deficiency was in the pencil—she had no notion of drawing—not enough even to attempt a sketch of her lover’s profile, that she might be detected in the design. There she fell miserably short of the true heroic height. (41)

In addition to what has been already said of Catherine Morland’s personal and mental endowments, when about to be launched into all the difficulties and dangers of a six weeks’ residence in Bath, it may be stated, for the reader’s more certain information, lest the following pages should otherwise fail of giving any idea of what her character is meant to be; that her heart was affectionate, her disposition cheerful and open, without conceit or affectation of any kind—her manners just removed from the awkwardness and shyness of a girl; her person pleasing, and, when in good looks, pretty—and her mind about as ignorant and uninformed as the female mind at seventeen usually is. (42)

…Mrs Morland knew so little of lords and baronets, that she entertained no notion of their general mischievousness, and was wholly unsuspicious of danger to her daughter from their machinations. (42)

They arrive at Bath. Catherine was all eager delight;—her eyes were here, there, everywhere, as they approached its fine and striking environs, and afterwards drove through those streets which conducted them to the hotel. She was come to be happy, and she felt happy already. (43)

Mrs Allen was one of that numerous class of females, whose society can raise no other emotion than surprise at there being any men in the world who could like them well enough to marry them. She had neither beauty, genius, accomplishment, nor manner. The air of a gentlewoman, a great deal of quiet, inactive good temper, and a trifling turn of mind, were all that could account for her being the choice of a sensible, intelligent man like Mr Allen. (44)

… “I have hitherto been very remiss, madam, in the proper attentions of a partner here; I have not yet asked you how long you have been in Bath; whether you were ever here before; whether you have been at the Upper rooms, the theatre, and the concert; and how you like the place together. I have been very negligent—but are you now at leisure to satisfy me in these particulars? If you are I will begin directly.” (48-9)

“I see what you think of me,” said he gravely—“I shall make but a poor figure in your journal tomorrow.” / “My journal!” / “Yes, I know exactly what you will say: Friday, went to the Lower Rooms; wore my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings—plain black shoes—appeared to much advantage; but was strangely harassed by a queer, half-witted man, who would make me dance with him, and distressed me by his nonsense.” (49)

“But, perhaps, I keep no journal.” / “Perhaps you are not sitting in this room, and I am not sitting by you. These are points in which a doubt is equally possible. Not keep a journal! How are your absent cousins to understand the tenour of your life in Bath without one? How are the civilities and compliments of every day to be related as they ought to be, unless noted down every evening in a journal? How are your various dresses to be remembered, and the particular state of your complexion, and curl of your hair to be described in all their diversities, without having constant recourse to a journal? –My dear madam, I am not so ignorant of young ladies’ ways as you wish to believe me; it is this delightful habit of journalizing which largely contributes to form the easy style of writing for which ladies are so generally celebrated. Every body allows that the talent of writing agreeable letter is peculiarly female. Nature may have done something, but I am sure it must be essentially assisted by the practice of keeping a journal.” (50)

“As far as I have had opportunity of judging, it appears to me that the usual style of letter-writing among women is faultless, except in three particulars.” / “And what are they?” / “A general deficiency of subject, a total inattention to stops, and a very frequent ignorance of grammar.” (50)

Mrs Allen was quite struck by his genius. “Men commonly take so little notice of those things,” said she: “I can never get Mr Allen to know one of my gowns from another. You must be a great comfort to your sister, sir.” / “I hope I am, madam.” / “And pray, sir, what do you think of Miss Morland’s gown?” / “It is very pretty, madam,” said he, gravely examining it; “bust I do not think it will wash well; I am afraid it will fray.” / “How can you,” said Catherine, laughing, “be so--” she had almost said strange. (51)

Whether she thought of him so much, while she drank her warm wine and water, and prepared herself for bed, as to dream of him when there, cannot be ascertained; but I hope it was no more than in a slight slumber, or a morning doze at most; for if it be true, as a celebrated writer has maintained, that no young lady can be justified in falling in love before the gentleman’s love is declared, [Austen’s footnote: “Vide a letter from Mr Richardson, No. 97 vol. ii, Rambler.” “This is the only allusion that Austen references in the novel. It is to an essay publicly attributed to Samuel Richardson for the first time in 1803.] it must be very improper that a young lady should dream of a gentleman before the gentleman is first known to have dreamt of her. (52)

“Here come my dear girls,” cried Mrs Thorpe, pointing at three smart looking females, who, arm in arm, were then moving towards her. “My dear Mrs Allen, I long to introduce them; they will be so delighted to see you: the tallest is Isabella, my eldest; is not she a fine young woman? The others are very much admired too, but I believe Isabella is the handsomest.” (54)

They called each other by their Christian name, were always arm in arm when they walked, pinned up each other’s train for the dance, and were not to be divided in the set; and if a rainy morning deprived them of other enjoyments, they were still resolute in meeting in defiance of wet and dirt, and shut themselves up, to read novels together. Yes, novels;--for I will not adopt that 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—joining with their greatest enemies in bestowing the harshest epithets on such works, and scarcely ever permitting them to be read by their own heroine, who, if she accidentally take up a novel, is sure to turn over its insipid pages with disgust. Alas! If the heroine of one novel be not patronized by the heroine of another, from whom can she expect protection and regard? I cannot approve of it. (58-9)

(Cf. Goldsmith’s History of England (1771); an Abridgment was published in 1774. Goldsmith’s History of England was a textbook at her father’s Steventon school and the Austen family copy, still in the possession of descendants today, was read and heavily annotated by Jane, probably during her early teens. Jane was a vehement defender of the Stuarts, from Mary Queen of Scots onwards, and the pages of volumes three and four are peppered with her exclamations of praise for them and condemnation of their enemies… Other marginalia in Goldsmith show that in her teens Austen was staunchly anti-Whig and anti-Republican” (W. Austen Leigh, Jane Austen: A Family Record 55). (59)

“Oh! it is only a novel!” replies the young lady; while she lays down her book with affected indifference, or momentary shame.—“It is only Cecilia, or Camilla, or Belinda;” or, in short, only some 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. Now, had the same young lady been engaged with a volume of the Spectator, instead of such a work, how proudly would she have produced the book, and told its name; though the chances must be against her being occupied by any part of that voluminous publication, of which either the matter or manner would not disgust a young person of taste: the substance of its papers so often consisting in the statement of improbable circumstances, unnatural characters, and topics of conversation, which no longer concern any one living; and their language, too, frequently so coarse as to give no very favourable idea of the age that could endure it. (60)

Where the heart is really attached, I know very well how little one can be pleased with the attention of any body else. Everything is so insipid, so uninteresting, that does not relate to the beloved object. [Variant of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (II.iv).] I can perfectly comprehend your feelings.” (63)

“No, she does not. She very often reads Sir Charles Grandison herself; but new books do not fall in our way.” / “Sir Charles Grandison! That is an amazing horrid book, is it not? –I remember Miss Andrews could not get through the first volume.” [Samuel Richardson’s Sir Charles Grandison (1753-4). In this second allusion to Samuel Richardson’s Sir Charles Grandison, Catherine informs us that the sensible Mrs. Morland often reads this particular work which is in stark contrast to the vacuous Isabella, who has never opened it and whose supposedly bookish friend Miss Andrews “could not get through the first volume.” (64)

…to her devoirs were speedily paid, with a mixture of joy and embarrassment which might have informed Catherine, had she been more expert in the development of other people’s feelings, and less simply engrossed by her own, that her brother thought her friend quite as pretty as she could do herself. (67)

James and Isabella led the way; and so well satisfied was the latter with her lot, so contentedly was she endeavouring to ensure a pleasant walk to him who brought the double recommendation of being her brother’s friend, and her friend’s brother, 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. (69)

Are you fond of an open carriage, Miss Morland?” / “Yes, very; I have hardly ever an opportunity of being in one; but I am particularly fond of it.” / “I am glad of it; I will drive you out in mine every day.” / “Thank you,” said Catherine, in some distress, from a doubt of the propriety of accepting such an offer. (70)

On his two younger sisters he then bestowed an equal portion of his fraternal tenderness, for he asked each of them how they did, and observed that they both looked very ugly. (72)

To be disgraced in the eye of the world, to wear the appearance of infamy while her heart is all purity, her action 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. (75)

Bath… “Well, sir, and I dare say you are not sorry to be back again, for it is just the place for young people—and indeed for every body else too. I tell Mr Allen, when he talks of being sick of it, that I am sure he should not complain, for it is so very agreeable a place, that it is much better to be here than at home at this dull time of year. I tell him he is quite in luck to be sent here for his health.” / “And I hope, madam, that Mr Allen will be obliged to like the place, from finding it of service to him.” / “Thank you, sir. I have no doubt that he will. –A neighbour of ours, Dr Skinner, was here for his health last winter, and came away quite stout.” (76)

Her manners shewed 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 extatic delight or inconceivable vexation on every little trifling occurrence. (77)

But where is her all-conquering brother? Is he in the room? Point him out to me this instant, if he is. I die to see him. Mr Morland, you are not to listen. We are not talking about you.” (78)

The rest of the evening she found very dull; Mr Tilney was drawn away from their party at tea, to attend that of his partner; Miss Tilney, though belonging to it, did not sit near her, and James and Isabella were so much engaged in conversing together, that the latter had no leisure to bestow more on her friend than one smile, one squeeze, and one “dearest Catherine.” (80)

The progress of Catherine’s unhappiness from the events of the evening, was as follows. It appeared first in a general dissatisfaction with every body about her, while she remained in the rooms, which speedily brought on considerable weariness and a violent desire to go home. This, on arriving in Pelteney-street, took the direction of extraordinary hunger, and when that was appeased, changed into an earnest longing to be in bed; such was the extreme point of her distress; for when there she immediately fell into a sound sleep which lasted nine hours, and from which she awoke perfectly revived, in excellent spirits, with fresh hopes and fresh schemes. (81)

In the Pump-room, one so newly arrived in Bath must be met with, and that building she had already found so favourable for the discovery of female excellence, and the completion of female intimacy, so admirably adapted for secret discourses and unlimited confidence, that she was most reasonably encouraged to expect another friend from within its walls. (81)

…and perceiving that the animal continued to go on in the same quiet manner, without shewing the smallest propensity towards any unpleasant vivacity, and (considering its inevitable pace was ten miles an hour) by no means alarmingly fast, gave herself up to all the enjoyment of air and exercise of the most invigorating kind, in a fine mild day of February, with consciousness of safety. (83)

“Unsafe! Oh, lord! what is there in that? they will only get a roll if it does break down; and there is plenty of dirt, it will be excellent falling. (85)

Catherine listened with astonishment; she knew not how to reconcile two such very different accounts of the same thing; for she had not been brought up to understand the propensities of a rattle, nor 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; her father, at the utmost, being contented with a pun, and her mother with a proverb; 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. (86)

Little as Catherine was in the habit of judging herself, and unfixed as were her general notions of what men ought to be, she could not entirely repress a doubt, while she bore with the effusions of his endless conceit, of his 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; (87)

Catherine found Mrs Allen just returned from all the busy idleness of the morning, and was immediately greeted with, “Well, my dear, here you are;” a truth which she had no greater inclination than power to dispute; “and I hope you have had a pleasant airing?” (87)

She went home very happy. The morning had answered all her hopes, and the evening of the following day was now the object of expectation, the future good. What gown and what head-dress she should wear on the occasion became her chief concern. She cannot be justified in it. Dress is at all times a frivolous distinction, and excessive solicitude about it often destroys its own aim. Catherine knew all this very well; her great aunt had read her a lecture on the subject only the Christmas before; and yet she lay awake ten minutes on Wednesday night debating between her spotted and her tamboured muslin, … (92)

It would be mortifying to the feelings of many ladies, could they be made to understand how little the heart of man is affected by what is costly or new in their attire; how little it is biased by the texture of their muslin, … Women is fine for her own satisfaction alone. No man will admire her the more, no woman will like her the better for it. Neatness and fashion are enough for the former, and a something of shabbiness or impropriety will be most endearing to the latter. (93)

Every young lady may feel for my heroine in this critical moment, for every young lady has at some time or other known the same agitation. (93)

In marriage, the man is supposed to provide for the support of the woman; the woman to make the home agreeable to the man; he is to purvey, and she is to smile. (95)

The morrow brought a very sober looking morning; the sun making only a few efforts to appear; and Catherine augured from it, every thing most favourable to her wishes. A bright morning so early in the year, she allowed, would generally turn to rain, but a cloudy one foretold improvement as the day advanced. She applied to Mr Allen for confirmation of her hopes, but Mr Allen, not having his own skies and barometer about him, declined giving any absolute promise of sunshine. She applied to Mrs Allen, and Mrs Allen’s opinion was more positive. “She had no doubt in the world of its being a very fine day, if the clouds would only go off, and the sun keep out.” (99)

And now I may dismiss my heroine to the sleepless couch, which is the true heroine’s portion; to a pillow strewed with thorns and wet with tears. And luck may she think herself, if she get another good night’s rest in the course of the next three month. (107)

Catherine, in deep mortification, proceeded on her way. She could almost be angry herself at such angry incivility; but she checked the resentful sensation; she remembered her own ignorance. She kenw not how such an offense as her’s might be classed by the laws of worldly politeness, … (108)

Feelings rather natural than heroic possessed her; instead of considering her own dignity injured by this ready condemnation—instead of proudly resolving, in conscious innocence, to shew her resentment towards him who could harbour a doubt of it, to leave to him all the trouble of seeking an explanation, and to enlighten him on the past only by avoiding his sight, or flirting with somebody else, she took to herself all the shame of misconduct, or at least of its appearance, and was only eager for an opportunity of explaining its cause. (109)

Is there a Henry in the world who could be insensible to such a declaration? Henry Tilney at least was not. With a yet sweeter smile, … (109)

The general attended her himself to the street-door, saying every thing gallant as they went downstairs, admiring the elasticity of her walk, … (117)

The Tilneys called for her at the appointed time; and no new difficulty arising, no sudden recollection, no unexpected summons, no impertinent intrusion to disconcert their measures, my heroine was most unnaturally able to fulfil her engagement, though it was made with the hero himself. (120)

To come with a well-informed mind is to come with an inability of administering to the vanity of others, which a sensible person would always with to avoid. A woman especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing any thing, should conceal it as well as she can. (124)

…though to the larger and more trifling part of the sex, imbecility in females is a great enhancement of their personal charms, there is a portion of them too reasonable and too well informed themselves to desire any thing more in woman than ignorance. (125)

I will prove myself a man, no less by the generosity of my soul than the clearness of my head. I have no patience with such of my sex as disdain to let themselves sometimes down to the comprehension of yours. (126)

“My dear Eleanor, the riot is only in your own brain. The confusion there is scandalous. Miss Morland has been talking of nothing more dreadful than a new publication which is shortly to come out, in three duodecimo volumes, two hundred and seventy-six pages in each, with a frontispiece to the first, of two tombstones and a lantern—do you understand?—And you, Miss Morland—my stupid sister has mistaken all your clearest expressions. You talked of expected horrors in London—and instead of instantly conceiving, as any rational creature would have done, that such words could relate only to a circulating library, she immediately pictured to herself a mob of three thousand men assembling in St George’s Fields, the Bank attacked, the Tower threatened, the streets of London flowing with blood, a detached of the 12th Light Dragoons, (127)

“What am I to do?” / “You know what you ought to do. Clear your character handsomely before her. Tell her that you think very highly of the understanding of women.” (127)

[note] Chapman (The Novels) points out that it is a mark of Anne Thorpe’s vulgarity that she should so readily address the friends of the morning by their Christian names. (129)

“Oh! my sweet Catherine, in your generous heart I know it would signify nothing; but we must not expect such disinterestedness in many. As for myself, I am sure I only wish our situation were reversed. Had I the command of millions, were I mistress of the whole world, your brother would be my only choice.” / This charming sentiment, recommended as much by sense as novelty, gave Catherine a most pleasing remembrances of all the heroines of her acquaintance; and she thought her friend never looked more lovely than in uttering the grand idea… (132)

“How contemptible! Of all things in the world inconstancy is my aversion. (139)

Henry smiled, and said, “How very little trouble it can give you to understand the motive of other people’s actions.” / “Why?—What do you mean?” / “With you, it is not, How is such a one likely to be influenced, What is the inducement most likely to act upon such a person’s feelings, age, situation, and probably habits of life considered?—but, how should I be influenced, what would be my inducement in acting so and so?” (141)

“Well then, I only meant that your attributing my brother’s wish of dancing with Miss Thorpe to good-nature alone, convinced me of your being superior in good-nature yourself to all the rest of the world.” (141)

…I told him he had taken a very unlikely way to prevail upon me; for, of all things in the world, I hated fine speeches and compliments;--and so—and so then I found there would be no peace if I did not stand up. (142)

The circumstances of the morning had led Catherine’s feelings through the varieties of suspense, security, and disappointment; but they were now safely lodged in perfect bliss; and with spirits elated to rapture, with Henry at her heart, and Northanger Abbey on her lips, she hurried home to writer her letter. (147)

Her passion for ancient edifices was next in degrees to her passion for Henry Tilney—and castles and abbies made usually the charm of those reveries which his image did not fill. To see and explore eiterh the ramparts and keep of the one, or the cloisters of the other, had been for many weeks a darling wish, though to be more than the visitor of an hour, had seemed too nearly impossible for desire. (147)

Northanger Abbey having been a richly-endowed convent at the time of the Reformation, of its having fallen into the hands of an ancestor of the Tilneys on its dissolution, of a large portion of the ancient building still making a part of the present dwelling although the rest was decayed, or of its standing low in a valley, sheltered from the north and east by rising woods of oak. (148)

A little harmless flirtation or so will occur, and one is often drawn on to give more encouragement than one wishes to stand by. … All those things should be allowed for in youth and high spirits. What one means one day, you know, one may not mean the next. Circumstance change, opinions alter.” (151)

But the merit of the curricle did not all belong to the horses;--Henry drove so well,--so quietly—without making any disturbance, without parading to her, or swearing at them; so different from the only gentleman-coachmen whom it was in her power to compare him with! … To be driven by him, next to being dancing with him, was certainly the greatest happiness in the world. (160)

“Oh! yes—I do not think I should be easily frightened, because there would be so many people in the house—and besides, it has never been uninhabited and left deserted for years, and then the family come back to it unawares, without giving any notice, as generally happens.” / “No, certainly.—We shall not have to explore our way into a hall dimly lighted by the expiring embers of a wood fire—nor be obliged to spread our beds on the floor of a room without windows, doors, or furniture. But you must be aware that when a young lady is (by whatever means) introduced into a dwelling of this kind, she is always lodged apart from the rest of the family. While they snugly repair to their own end of the house, she is formally conducted by Dorothy the ancient housekeeper up a different staircase, and along many gloomy passages, into an apartment never used since some cousin or kin died in it about twenty years before. Can you stand such a ceremony as this? Will not your mind misgive you, when you find yourself in this gloomy chamber—too lofty and extensive for you, without only the feeble rays of a single lamp to take in its size—its walls hung with tapestry exhibiting figures as large as life, and the bed, of dark green stuff or purple velvet, presenting even a funereal appearance? Will not your heart sink within you? (161)

…without feeling one awful foreboding of future misery to herself, or one moment’s suspicion of any past scenes of horror being acted within the solemn edifice. The breeze had not seemed to waft the sighs of the murdered to her; it had wafted nothing worse than a thick mizzling rain; … (164)

For the world would she not have her weakness suspected; and yet, unequal to an absolute falsehood, was constrained to acknowledge that the wind had kept her awake a little. “But we have a charming morning after it,” she added, desiring to get rid of the subject; “and storms and sleeplessness are nothing when they are over. What a beautiful hyacinths!—I have just learnt to love a hyacinth.” / “And how might you learn? –By accident or argument?” / “Your sister taught me; I cannot tell how. Mrs Allen used to take pains, year after year, to make me like them; but I never could till I saw them the other day in Milsom-street; I am naturally indifferent about flowers.” / “But now you love a hyacinth. So much the better. You have gained a new source of enjoyment, and it is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible. Besides, a taste for flowers is always desirable in your sex, as a means of getting you out of doors, and tempting you to more frequent exercise than you would otherwise take. And though the love of a hyacinth may be rather domestic, who can tell, the sentiment once raised, but you may in time come to love a rose?” / “But I do not want any such pursuit to get me out of doors. The pleasure of walking and breathing fresh air is enough for me, and in fine weather I am out more than half my time. –Mamma says, I am never within.” / “At any rate, however, I am pleased that you have learnt to love a hyacinth. The mere habit of learning to love is the thing; and a teachableness of disposition in a young lady is a great blessing.—Has my sister a pleasant mode of instruction?” (175)

The house stands among fine meadows facing the south-east, with an excellent kitchen-garden in the same aspect; the walls surrounding which I built and stocked myself about ten years ago, for the benefit of my son. (176)

“If I understand you rightly, you had formed a surmise of such horror as I have hardly words to—Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging from? Remember the country and the age in which we live. Remember that we are English, that we are Christians. Consult your own understanding, your own sense of the probable, your own observation of what is passing around you—Does our education prepare us for such atrocities? Do our laws connive at them? Could they be perpetrated without being known, in a country like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such a footing; where every man is surrounded by a neighbourhood of voluntary spies, and where roads and newspapers lay every thing open? Dearest Miss Morland, what ideas have you been admitting?” (195-6)

A heroine returning, at the close of her career, to her native village, in all the triumph of recovered reputation, and all the dignity of a countess, with a long train of noble relations, in their several phaetons, and three waiting-maids in a traveling chaise and four, behind her, is an event on which the pen of the contriver may well delight to dwell; it gives credit to every conclusion, and the author must share in the glory she so liberally bestows. But my affair is widely different; I bring back my heroine to her home in solitude and disgrace; and no sweet elation of spirits can lead me into minuteness. A heroine in a hack post-chaise, is such a blow upon sentiment, as no attempt at grandeur or pathos can withstand. Swiftly therefore shall her post-boy drive through the village, amid the gaze of Sunday groups, and speedy shall be her descent from it. (224)

On the strength of this, the General, soon after Eleanor’s marriage, permitted his son to return to Northanger, and thence made him the bearer of his consent, very courteously worded in a page full of empty professions to Mr Morland. The event which it authorized soon followed: Henry and Catherine were married, the bells rang, and every body smiled; and, as this took place within a twelvemonth from the first day of their meeting, it will not appear, after all the dreadful delays occasioned by the General’s cruelty, that there were essentially hurt by it. To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-six and eighteen, is to do pretty well; and professing myself moreover convinced, that the General’s unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled by whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of this work be altogether to recommend paternal tyranny, or reward filial disobedience. (closing, 240)