Northanger Abbey is considered by many critics the work that represents Jane Austen’s writing in the first phase of her career. The book is a burlesque of the Gothic novels in vogue in the 1790s and the extravagance and little common sense found in them. The tone of mockery of the novel requires a narrator that is detached from the story and is superior to the characters in order to guide the reader and present him the necessary information to understand the irony of what is being told. The narrator of Northanger Abbey can be defined as the voice that will point out the absurdities of Gothic novels while pretending to be a sentimental novelist herself/himself and, at other moments, will openly criticize not only the writers of such novels, but also the readers that are deluded by them. (Schamber, Babb, Brownstein, Wright)
The narrator of Northanger Abbey has been vastly studied; the inconsistence of narration in the novel as well as the importance of the narrator for the mockery intended by the story originated many analyses of Austen’s work. Schamber states that the reason for the choice of an omnipotent and omniscient narrator “is obviously that this personality is necessary to accomplish the two main purposes of the novel – literary burlesque and social and moral comment.” (7) In the book we are presented with a narrator that knows of the characters’ past, present and future as she/he describes Catherine Morland’s childhood, her present situation and hints at the future, for example, when she/he argues that “when a young lady is to be a heroine […] something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.” (Austen 9)
The narrator introduces Catherine Morland to the reader as an anti-heroine. Nothing in her life would have led anyone to believe her destined to be a heroine for she was not poor, her father was not in the habit of locking his daughters and her mother has not died in childbirth. Catherine’s “own person and disposition” (Austen 5) were also in disagreement with what would be expected of a heroine. While the narrator exposes what her/his readers would consider the essential characteristics of a novel heroine and states that Catherine is nothing like that, she/he associates herself/himself with the novelists that create these heroines and, as argued by Wright, constructs a double pretense “that the author is another in the long line of sentimental novelists, and the calculated illusion that the audience will be composed of readers of this genre.” (49) Wright also points out that, if in many passages Austen is “identifying herself with a sentimental novelist” (49), in other instances she tells the truth as she sees it and “leaves it to the reader to discriminate between the two narrators of this story.” (50)
The description that the narrator gives of Mrs. Allen is directed to the reader so that he “may be able to judge” (Austen 12) how she would interfere to reduce Catherine “to all the desperate wretchedness of which a last volume is capable” (Austen 12). This portrayal also functions as a mockery of Gothic novels as the reader is able to judge when Mrs. Allen’s characterization does not give any indication that she would be capable of inflicting any distress in the young woman’s life. Zimmerman points out that this description enables the reader to understand the probabilities of a chaperon in a novel and when these are applied to “the dull Mrs. Allen [they] are comic.” (57) Schamber argues that Mrs. Thorpe portrait is similar to that of Mrs. Allen and indicates that “since Catherine is to be deceived by Mrs. Thorpe’s daughter, Isabella, a description of the later is noticeably lacking.” (11)
The heroine’s difficult in distinguishing between reality and the ideas taken from the novels she reads is expounded during her stay in Bath. Catherine becomes immediate friends with Isabella Thorpe and is unable to notice her friend’s shallowness, although the reader can easily identify Isabella’s true nature by her conversation and attitudes. According to Zimmerman, Catherine is created in the early chapters as an ambiguous heroine and her rationality is what distinguishes her from the usual heroine’s behavior. (58) Despite the fact that she is naïve and tends to view facts and relationships “according to notions of friendship and honor that derive ultimately from novels of sentiment”, (Babb 86) her reactions are not as exacerbated as would be expected. For example, when Henry Tilney returns to Bath and is seen with a young woman, Catherine concludes that it must be his sister, although the narrator suggests that the appropriated reaction of a heroine would be to consider “him lost to her for ever, by being married already.” (Austen 53) Zimmerman defends that the narrator’s use of extreme description is a device to emphasize Catharine’s ordinariness. (58)
While the narrator masquerades herself/himself as a sentimental novelist and uses this position to satirize the over sensitive novels, she/he in unable to instruct Catherine on the dangers of her uncritical acceptance of these same novels, this job is rendered to Henry Tilney, as pointed out by Babb (88). The appearance of the novel’s hero in chapter three of the first volume causes the disappearance of the narrator in effect, as mentioned by Schamber (12). Henry is now responsible for the ridiculing of sentimental novels clichés, as exemplified in his speech after his first dance with Catherine in Bath:
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 or not you were ever here before; whether you have been at the Upper Rooms, the theatre, and the concert; and how you like the place altogether. (Austen 18-19)
These questions that Henry directs at Catherine are what would be expected to be asked of a heroine by the hero when first meeting her (Schamber 12). Henry Tilney proceeds with his mockery and his criticism of the social conventions and values of his time by ridiculing the practice of keeping a journal and stating what Catherine would likely write in hers about their meeting. His irony is evident when he declares the impossibility of her not keeping a journal for without it, he tells her, “How are your various dresses to be remembered, and the particular state of your complexion, and the curl of your hair to be described […]?” (Austen 20).
The narrator assumes her/his place again once Henry exists the scene by commenting on whether or not Catherine would dream of him. Her/his position as a separate personality is, as ascertained by Schamber, reaffirmed when the narrator makes use of the personal pronoun “I” to give the reader her/his opinion: “I hope it was no more than a slight slumber or a morning doze at most.” (Austen 23)
The most obvious authorial intrusion on Northanger Abbey happens when Catherine and Isabella “shut themselves up, to read novels together” (Austen 32) in the fifth chapter of the first volume. The narrator launches into a two pages defense of novels by an “attack on the convention of attacking novels” (Zimmerman 59), stating: “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 […]” (Austen 32). Brownstein draws attention to the fact that “this declaration conspicuously ignores” the gothic novels read by Catherine and Isabella. (38)
The last stage of Catherine’s growth into a heroine happens in the course of her visit to Northanger Abbey. During the carriage ride to the Tilney’s residence, Henry describes to Catherine all the horrors she should expect to encounter at the abbey. He uses the formulas of the novels she enjoys reading to set her up to await many adventures equal to those lived by the gothic heroines. As Brownstein analyses, Catherine falls for Henry’s teasing because she likes him and because of her gullible imagination (39), although she protests that “this is just like a book – But it cannot really happen to me” (Austen 175). The narrator retreats once more in this section of the novel, for her/his presence explaining Catherine’s misguided thoughts would ruin the suspense, as argued by Schamber (23).
In the course of her stay at Northanger Abbey, Catherine starts imagining all sorts of horrors and her ultimate self-deception causes Henry to give her his most direct lesson on the danger of allowing her imagination to run unchecked. Understanding the assumptions the heroine has made about his mother’s death, believing that she was murdered by his father, General Tilney, Henry calls on her to see reason:
Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicious you have entertained. What have you been judging from? […] 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? […] (Austen 220)
Once again, Henry takes the place of the narrator to point out the absurdity of replacing reason with imagination and the heroine is finally able to see it for herself (Schamber 23): “The vision of romance was over. Catherine was completely awakened.” (Austen 221) The hero “tried to free Catherine’s imagination from the errors bred in it by reading novels” (Babb 88), which serves also as a criticism to those readers that, like the heroine of the book, let their minds be ruled by the exaggerations found in sentimental novels.
Finally, Catherine is also awakened to the true character of her former friend, Isabella Thorpe. The letter sent to her by Isabella asking for help to reestablish the broken engagement to her brother, James, is clearly seen as a shallow artifice, mentions Schamber. (25) With Henry’s help, Catharine reached her final maturation as heroine and the narrator is no longer essential to guide the reader, for now he can trust Catherine’s accounts of her surroundings. (Schamber 25)
Although we are led by the narrator, throughout the novel, to many beliefs regarding the value of Gothic novels and the absurdities of Catherine’s unchecked imagination, these same beliefs are deconstructed in the sequence, marking the differences between this novel and the ones it is mocking. For example, as indicated by Brownstein “we are persuaded to think her [Catherine] absurd for having horrific ‘visions of romance’ about the General – but then, on the other hand, they prove to be substantially correct.” (40) These reversals are used to emphasize the point of view that the narrator is trying to show to the reader without openly declaring it.
General Tilney turns out to be evil in a different way than imagined by Catherine. He is materialistic and does not hesitate in throwing the heroine from his house without any explanation for his actions or any support for her travel home, when he discovers that she is not as rich as he had been led to believe. The narrator once again makes herself/himself present to highlight the anti-romance elements of the story by contrasting the expected heroine’s return home in triumph to the sad reality of Catherine Morland (Schamber 29): “I bring back my heroine to her home in solitude and disgrace. (Austen 261) Catherine’s parents’ failure to notice that her ill looks and agitation were born in matters of the heart is used by the narrator to mock the general formula of novels anew as Schamber defends. (29)
The last two chapters are marked by the narrator’s directed explanation of events and sentiments that lead to the felicity of her heroine and hero. The narrator uses this opportunity to remember that, although she has a happy ending, Catherine is still unlike usual heroines for Henry’s affections for her were born of his knowledge of her affection for him: “It is a new circumstance in romance, I acknowledge, and dreadfully derogatory of an heroine’s dignity; but if it be as new in common life, the credit of a wild imagination will at least be all my own.” (Austen 274)
The narrator’s presence as a separated personality is emphasized as she/he directs herself/himself to the reader stating that they would “see in the tell-tale compression of the pages before them, that we are all hastening together to perfect felicity.” (Austen 281). Schamber points out that the narrator’s presence is “further stressed as she states concerning Eleanor’s marriage that she is aware that the rules of composition forbid the introduction of a character not connected with her fable.” (31) The narrator ends her/his tale by playfully leaving “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.” (Austen 284)
The narrator of Northanger Abbey is an essential element to achieve the purpose of literary burlesque of the novel. To understand this it is necessary to take in consideration Austen’s choice for the specific omnipotent and omniscient narrator that gives the reader the necessary information to comprehend what the heroine cannot yet see for herself. It is also important to understand the opposition of the narrator’s mocking presence and open criticism to the rational posture of Henry Tilney who guides the heroine to her own growth, and the late maturation and development of reason of Catherine Morland.
The voice of the narrator severs as a guide to the reader’s understanding of Catherine’s misguided notions born in the reading of novels, and direct criticism of such over sentimental novels. The narrator’s presence allows the reader to see beyond the heroine’s defective discernment between real life and fiction, until the heroine completes her maturation throughout the novel and becomes a reliable source of information to the reader. In order to completely unravel the hidden meanings of the novel the reader needs first to understand the narrator and its place in the story.
Bibliography
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