Northanger Abbey (Barnes & Noble Classics) Read online

  John Thorpe had first misled him. The General, perceiving his son one night at the theatre to be paying considerable attention to Miss Morland, had accidentally inquired of Thorpe, if he knew more of her than her name. Thorpe, most happy to be on speaking terms with a man of General Tilney's importance, had been joyfully and proudly communicative;--and being at that time not only in daily expectation of Morland's engaging Isabella, but likewise pretty well resolved upon marrying Catherine himself, his vanity induced him to represent the family as yet more wealthy than his vanity and avarice had made him believe them. With whomsoever he was, or was likely to be connected, his own consequence always required that theirs should be great, and as his intimacy with any acquaintance grew, so regularly grew their fortune. The expectations of his friend Morland, therefore, from the first over-rated, had ever since his introduction to Isabella, been gradually increasing; and by merely adding twice as much for the grandeur of the moment, by doubling what he chose to think the amount of Mr. Morland's preferment, trebling his private fortune, bestowing a rich aunt, and sinking half the children, he was able to represent the whole family to the General in a most respectable light. For Catherine, however, the peculiar object of the General's curiosity, and his own speculation, he had yet something more in reserve, and the ten or fifteen thousand pounds which her father could give her, would be a pretty addition to Mr. Allen's estate. Her intimacy there had made him seriously determine on her being handsomely legacied hereafter; and to speak of her therefore as the almost acknowledged future heiress of Fullerton naturally followed. Upon such intelligence the General had proceeded; for never had it occurred to him to doubt its authority. Thorpe's interest in the family, by his sister's approaching connection with one of its members, and his own views on another, (circumstances of which he boasted with almost equal openness,) seemed sufficient vouchers for his truth; and to these were added the absolute facts of the Allens being wealthy and childless, of Miss Morland's being under their care, and--as soon as his acquaintance allowed him to judge--of their treating her with parental kindness. His resolution was soon formed. Already had he discerned a liking towards Miss Morland in the countenance of his son; and thankful for Mr. Thorpe's communication, he almost instantly determined to spare no pains in weakening his boasted interest and ruining his dearest hopes.3 Catherine herself could not be more ignorant at the time of all this, than his own children. Henry and Eleanor, perceiving nothing in her situation likely to engage their father's particular respect, had seen with astonishment the suddenness, continuance and extent of his attention; and though latterly, from some hints which had accompanied an almost positive command to his son of doing every thing in his power to attach her, Henry was convinced of his father's believing it to be an advantageous connection, it was not till the late explanation at Northanger that they had the smallest idea of the false calculations which had hurried him on. That they were false, the General had learnt from the very person who had suggested them, from Thorpe himself, whom he had chanced to meet again in town, and who, under the influence of exactly opposite feelings, irritated by Catherine's refusal, and yet more by the failure of a very recent endeavour to accomplish a reconciliation between Morland and Isabella, convinced that they were separated for ever, and spurning a friendship which could be no longer serviceable, hastened to contradict all that he had said before to the advantage of the Morlands;--confessed himself to have been totally mistaken in his opinion of their circumstances and character, misled by the rhodomontade4 of his friend to believe his father a man of substance and credit, whereas the transactions of the two or three last weeks proved him to be neither; for after coming eagerly forward on the first overture of a marriage between the families, with the most liberal proposals, he had, on being brought to the point by the shrewdness of the relator, been constrained to acknowledge himself incapable of giving the young people even a decent support. They were, in fact, a necessitous family; numerous too almost beyond example; by no means respected in their own neighbourhood, as he had lately had particular opportunities of discovering; aiming at a style of life which their fortune could not warrant; seeking to better themselves by wealthy connexions; a forward, bragging, scheming race.

  The terrified General pronounced the name of Allen with an inquiring look; and here too Thorpe had learnt his error. The Allens, he believed, had lived near them too long, and he knew the young man on whom the Fullerton estate must devolve. The General needed no more. Enraged with almost every body in the world but himself, he set out the day next for the Abbey, where his performances have been seen.

  I leave it to my reader's sagacity to determine how much of all this it was possible for Henry to communicate at this time to Catherine, how much of it he could have learnt from his father, in what point his own conjectures might assist him, and what portion must yet remain to be told in a letter from James. I have united for their ease what they must divide for mine. Catherine, at any rate, heard enough to feel, that in suspecting General Tilney of either murdering or shutting up his wife, she had scarcely sinned against his character, or magnified his cruelty.

  Henry, in having such things to relate of his father, was almost as pitiable as in their first avowal to himself. He blushed for the narrow-minded counsel which he was obliged to expose. The conversation between them at Northanger had been of the most unfriendly kind. Henry's indignation on hearing how Catherine had been treated, on comprehending his father's views, and being ordered to acquiesce in them, had been open and bold. The General, accustomed on every ordinary occasion to give the law in his family, prepared for no reluctance but of feeling, no opposing desire that should dare to clothe itself in words, could ill brook the opposition of his son, steady as the sanction of reason and the dictate of conscience could make it. But, in such a cause, his anger, though it must shock, could not intimidate Henry, who was sustained in his purpose by a conviction of its justice. He felt himself bound as much in honour as in affection to Miss Morland, and believing that heart to be his own which he had been directed to gain, no unworthy retraction of a tacit consent, no reversing decree of unjustifiable anger, could shake his fidelity, or influence the resolutions it prompted.

  He steadily refused to accompany his father into Hereford-shire, an engagement formed almost at the moment, to promote the dismissal of Catherine, and as steadily declared his intention of offering her his hand. The General was furious in his anger, and they parted in dreadful disagreement. Henry, in an agitation of mind which many solitary hours were required to compose, had returned almost instantly to Woodston ; and, on the afternoon of the following day, had begun his journey to Fullerton.

  CHAPTER XXXI

  Mr. and Mrs. Morland's surprize on being applied to by Mr. Tilney, for their consent to his marrying their daughter, was, for a few minutes, considerable; it having never entered their heads to suspect an attachment on either side; but as nothing, after all, could be more natural than Catherine's being beloved, they soon learnt to consider it with only the happy agitation of gratified pride, and, as far as they alone were concerned, had not a single objection to start. His pleasing manners and good sense were self-evident recommendations; and having never heard evil of him, it was not their way to suppose any evil could be told. Good-will supplying the place of experience, his character needed no attestation. "Catherine would make a sad heedless young housekeeper to be sure," was her mother's foreboding remark; but quick was the consolation of there being nothing like practice.

  There was but one obstacle, in short, to be mentioned; but till that one was removed, it must be impossible for them to sanction the engagement. Their tempers were mild, but their principles were steady, and while his parent so expressly forbad the connexion, they could not allow themselves to encourage it. That the General should come forward to solicit the alliance, or that he should even very heartily approve it, they were not refined enough to make any parading stipulation, but the decent appearance of consent must be yielded, and that once obtained--a
nd their own hearts made them trust that it could not be very long denied--their willing approbation was instantly to follow. His consent was all that they wished for. They were no more inclined than entitled to demand his money. Of a very considerable fortune, his son was, by marriage settlements, eventually secure; his present income was an income of independence and comfort, and under every pecuniary view, it was a match beyond the claims of their daughter.

  The young people could not be surprized at a decision like this. They felt and they deplored--but they could not resent it; and they parted, endeavouring to hope that such a change in the General, as each believed almost impossible, might speedily take place, to unite them again in the fullness of privileged affection. Henry returned to what was now his only home, to watch over his young plantations, and extend his improvements for her sake, to whose share in them he looked anxiously forward; and Catherine remained at Fullerton to cry. Whether the torments of absence were softened by a clandestine correspondence, let us not inquire. Mr. and Mrs. Morland never did--they had been too kind to exact any promise, and whenever Catherine received a letter, as, at that time, happened pretty often, they always looked another way.

  The anxiety, which in this state of their attachment must be the portion of Henry and Catherine, and of all who loved either, as to its final event, can hardly extend, I fear, to the bosom of my readers, who will see in the tell-tale compression of the pages before them, that we are all hastening together to perfect felicity. The means by which their early marriage was effected can be the only doubt: what probable circumstance could work upon a temper like the General's? The circumstance which chiefly availed was the marriage of his daughter with a man of fortune and consequence, which took place in the course of the summer--an accession of dignity that threw him into a fit of good humour, from which he did not recover till after Eleanor had obtained his forgiveness of Henry, and his permission for him "to be a fool if he liked it!"

  The marriage of Eleanor Tilney, her removal from all the evils of such a home as Northanger had been made by Henry's banishment, to the home of her choice and the man of her choice, is an event which I expect to give general satisfaction among all her acquaintance. My own joy on the occasion is very sincere. I know no one more entitled, by unpretending merit, or better prepared by habitual suffering, to receive and enjoy felicity. Her partiality for this gentleman was not of recent origin; and he had been long withheld only by inferiority of situation from addressing her. His unexpected accession to title and fortune had removed all his difficulties; and never had the General loved his daughter so well in all her hours of companionship, utility, and patient endurance, as when he first hailed her, "Your Ladyship!" Her husband was really deserving of her; independent of his peerage,hr his wealth, and his attachment, being to a precision the most charming young man in the world. Any further definition of his merits must be unnecessary; the most charming young man in the world is instantly before the imagination of us all. Concerning the one in question therefore I have only to add, (aware that the rules of composition forbid the introduction of a character not connected with my fable) 1--that this was the very gentleman whose negligent servant left behind him that collection of washing-bills, resulting from a long visit at Northanger, by which my heroine was involved in one of her most alarming adventures.

  The influence of the Viscount and Viscountess in their brother's behalf was assisted by that right understanding of Mr. Morland's circumstance which, as soon as the General would allow himself to be informed, they were qualified to give. It taught him that he had been scarcely more misled by Thorpe's first boast of the family wealth, than by his subsequent malicious overthrow of it; that in no sense of the word were they necessitous or poor, and that Catherine would have three thousand pounds. This was so material an amendment of his late expectations, that it greatly contributed to smooth the descent of his pride; and by no means without its effect was the private intelligence, which he was at some pains to procure, that the Fullerton estate, being entirely at the disposal of its present proprietor, was consequently open to every greedy speculation.

  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 twelvemonthhs from the first day of their meeting, it will not appear, after all the dreadful delays occasioned by the General's cruelty, that they 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 parental tyranny, or reward filial disobedience.

  Endnotes

  CHAPTER I

  1 (p. 7) Her father was a clergyman ... and a very respectable man, though his name was Richard: Austen may be alluding playfully to either Richard II or Richard III, protagonists in Shakespeare's historical tragedies that bear their names. In this case the reference is ambiguous, though Austen often seemed to find some connection (often ironic) between names and the historical figures who bore them. In a letter of October 14, 1813, she wrote: "They say his name is Henry, a proof how unequally the gifts of fortune are bestowed. I have seen many a John or Thomas much more agreeable."

  2 (p. 8) Her mother was three months in teaching her only to repeat the "Beggar's Petition": This is a reference to a 1766 poem by the Rev. Thomas Moss; in the poem, addressed to Prime Minister William Pitt, the Elder (1708-1778), a poor old man begs for aid.

  3 (p. 8) she learnt the fable of "The Hare and many Friends," as quickly as any girl in England: Austen is referring to a fable written by John Gay ( 1685-1732 ) , who is best known as the author of The Beggar's Opera. This fable is a warning about having too many friends and being unable to rely on any of them.

  4 (p. 10) From Pope, she learnt to censure those who "bear about the mockery of woe. "...--"like Patience on a monument / Smiling at Grief": These are quotes and near-quotes from a variety of English writers. The first is from a poem by Alexander Pope (1688-1744), "Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady." The next ("Many a flower ...") is from "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard," by Thomas Gray ( 1716-1771 ) . The third example is from "Spring" in The Seasons, by James Thomson ( 1700-1748) . The final quotes are from William Shakespeare ( 1564-1616) : "Trifles light as air" is spoken by lago in Othello (act 3, scene 3); the lines beginning "the poor beetle" are spoken by Isabella in Measure for Measure (act 3, scene 1); and the lines beginning "like Patience" by Viola in Twelfth-Night; Or, What You Will (act 2, scene 4).

  5 (p. 11) There was not one family among their acquaintance who had ... supported a boy accidentally found at their door. This is possibly a reference to Henry Fielding's The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling (1749). Austen was not fond of Fielding's "indecent" side.

  CHAPTER III

  1 (p. 21) "I danced with a very agreeable young man, introduced by Mr. King": As master of ceremonies, Mr. King not only made sure people danced in order of social status but also maintained a guest book where visitors left their names and addresses while in Bath. Catherine Morland will look up the Tilneys' address in the guest book in chapter XII, p. 84.

  2 (p. 24) no young lady can be justified in falling in love before the gentleman's love is declared: Here a footnote by Austen reads: "Vide [see] a letter from Mr. Richardson, No. 97, vol. ii, Rambler." The Rambler was a periodical published by Samuel Johnson between 1750 and 1752. It dealt with miscellaneous subjects, from literary criticism to character study.

  CHAPTER V

  1 (p. 29) again was Ca
therine disappointed in her hope of re-seeing her partner. He was no where to be met with: A similar situation occurs in A Sicilian Romance ( 1790 ) , by Ann Radcliffe ( 1764-1823) . Austen ironically juxtaposes scenes from romance with scenes in Catherine Morland's life to show how fiction warps her perception of reality.

  2 (p. 32) some dozen lines of Milton, Pope, and Prior: Austen refers here to three well-known English writers. John Milton (1608-1674), considered one of the greatest writers in English literature, is best known for the epic poem Paradise Lost. Alexander Pope ( 1688-1744) wrote the satirical poem The Dunciad. Matthew Prior ( 1664-1721 ) was a lyric poet and a diplomat.

  3 (p. 32) with a paper from the Spectator: From March 1711 until December 1712, Joseph Addison and Richard Steele produced a daily periodical comprising essays purportedly written by a Mr. Spectator, a fictitious Londoner who commented on manners, morals, and literature.

  4 (p. 32) a chapter from Sterne : Laurence Sterne (1713-1768) wrote the multi-volume novel The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy.