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    Northanger Abbey: Bestsellers and famous Books
    Northanger Abbey: Bestsellers and famous Books
    Northanger Abbey: Bestsellers and famous Books
    Ebook295 pages4 hours

    Northanger Abbey: Bestsellers and famous Books

    By Jane Austen

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    The novel is a satire of the Gothic novels popular at the time of its first writing in 1798–99. The heroine, Catherine, thinks life is like a Gothic novel, but her real experiences bring her down to earth as an ordinary young woman.
    LanguageEnglish
    Publisheranboco
    Release dateOct 25, 2016
    ISBN9783736417786
    Northanger Abbey: Bestsellers and famous Books
    Author

    Jane Austen

    Jane Austen nació en 1775 en Steventon (Hampshire), séptima de los ocho hijos del rector de la parroquia. Educada principalmente por su padre, empezó a escribir de muy joven, para recreo de la familia, y a los veintitrés años envió a los editores el manuscrito de La abadía de Northanger, que fue rechazado. Trece años después, en 1811, conseguiría publicar Juicio y sentimiento, a la que pronto seguirían Orgullo y prejuicio (1813), Mansfield Park (1814) y Emma (1816), que obtuvieron un gran éxito. Después de su muerte, acaecida prematuramente en 1817, y que le impidió concluir su novela SanditonLa abadía de Northanger, Persuasión (1818). Satírica, antirromántica, profunda y tan primorosa como mordaz, la obra de Jane Austen nace toda ella de una inquieta observación de la vida doméstica y de una estética necesidad de orden moral. «La Sabidu-ría –escribió una vez- es mejor que el Ingenio, y a la larga tendrá sin duda la risa de su parte.»

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    Reviews for Northanger Abbey

    4/5

    4,922 ratings187 reviews

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    • 5/5
      After being so-so about Pride and Prejudice, which everyone seems to love, I was suprised at how much I liked Northanger Abbey. It is genuinely funny.
    • 3/5
      A quite surprising novel in its frankness and how it treats the subject matter. Austen proves her worth by crafting characters whose journeys inward parallel the motion of the plot-line occurring around them. While the prose might seem a little dated by today's standards, there is still much to be admired here. This is, I believe, one of Austen's finer novels.

      3.35-- worth the read.
    • 4/5
      Not my favourite Austen novel, but still a lovely read and a very intriguing story. Northanger Abbey concerns itself with appearance, style, and fashion. This is established immediately with the author's advertisement, and with the repetition in the first few chapters that Catherine is the "heroine" and must appear "heroic." Of course, Austen breaks down the rules of appearances, demonstrating throughout the length of the novel that nothing is as it appears. Even the lovely abbey that Catherine longs for, she soon remarks that it is the place where she has been most miserable, and received the most terrible news, as opposed to its exterior joys. All in all, it's a snarky Austen, and a witty Austen, but it lacks the mastery of some of Austen's other works.
    • 4/5
      Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey was the first she completed for publication, in 1803, though it was not published until after her death in 1817. The work satirizes gothic novels though the heroine, Catherine Morland, who “is in training for a heroine.” She is fond of gothic novels, particularly the work of Ann Radcliffe’s work, and this allows Austen to comment on the novel as a literary form, defending it against critics who derided it for its supposed lack of serious content. Discussing her reading habits, Catherine describes the follies then current in historical writing, saying, “The quarrels of popes and kings, with wars or pestilences, in every page; the men all so good for nothing, and hardly any women at all – it is very tiresome: and yet I often think it odd that it should be so dull, for a great deal of it must be invention. The speeches that are put into the heroes’ mouths, their thoughts and designs – the chief of all this must be invention, and invention is what delights me in other books” (pg. 102). As modern academic history was relatively recent, first appearing with Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire in 1776, Austen comments on the earlier fashion of historical writing and how authors would simply repackage classical texts with some of their own inventions to spice up the narrative. The power of reading runs through Austen’s work, driving many of Catherine’s choices and informing her conversations. This Barnes & Noble edition includes an introduction and notes from Alfred Mac Adam that the Austen scholar may find interesting, though his habit of putting definitions for all the early-nineteenth century terms in the footnotes becomes distracting, especially as the meaning of most can be gleaned from context.
    • 1/5
      I see what she was trying to do here, but it comes off more frustrated and catty than satirical. It does make me glad that I live in the 21st century, though, and not the 18th.
    • 3/5
      This may make me a disgrace to Jane Austen fandom, but Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice have always been fairly interchangeable in my mind. They’re just so similar! So, even though I love them both dearly, I was initially very excited to start this book and find something a bit different. As always, I adored Austen’s writing style and her pointed humor. In this book, she very deliberately breaks the tropes of the Gothic novel, with funny asides about the genre along the way. Her points are made clearly enough that I could tell what she was making fun of in Gothic novels, even though I’ve read very few myself. However, as I got further into the book, it soon became clear that there was essentially no plot and the main character isn’t very bright. Although she does grow a bit, she has very little agency. Nearly all of the difficulties she faces are in her head or at least blown all out of proportion. I didn’t really feel that this silly main protagonist deserved the intelligent, funny, kind love interest. In typical Austen fashion though, everything just works itself out in the last few pages. This doesn’t typically bother me, but in this case, there wasn’t enough action by the main character preceding the speedy resolution. Only Austen’s wonderful writing saved this for me.

      This review first published on Doing Dewey.
    • 5/5
      I read this book way back in 1982 and I thinks it's due for a re-read.
    • 4/5
      This was fun, especially the beginning and the very end of Northanger Abbey where Austen indulges in meta-comments, authorial intrusions, direct appeals to the reader, and the most obvious jokes. Most of the rest of this short novel plays out like a regular Jane Austen book, with the occasional reminder that this is -- in part -- a parody. Jane Austen parodying her own style and genre. Fun!
    • 3/5
      I am so glad I read this - so that I never have to read it again. She's a very good author, I agree - but you have to have some knowledge of a subject to enjoy a satire on it, and I avoid Gothic novels because I find them boring and histrionic. So I missed 90% of her clever satirical bits (all but the ones she pointed out with loud handwavings and lampshadings) and got to read a boring, histrionic Gothic novel. The characters are rather sketchy - aside from Our Heroine and a little bit Our Hero, none of them move much past stereotype. The events are (deliberately) dull, ordinary, and conventional...hmm, we never did get that abduction in a coach and four she mentioned as a future event. I was expecting it to show up during her ride home, and to be conventionally explained. It's almost a sweet little romance, but the obstacles are so silly... I also found the narrator/author extremely intrusive, particularly at the beginning while she was explaining how Catherine was a heroine despite lacking all the standard markers. Hopefully this is part of the satire, and not her standard form. I will read more Austen (this was, I believe, my first), and will do my best to forget about this one.
    • 2/5
      Felt a bit rushed. Also not quite as entertaining as I was told it would be. All in all rather disappointing.
    • 4/5
      Important as a comparison to her later works. you can see glimpses of Austen's future themes and pathways to better character development. I tended to get bored while reading it.
    • 5/5
      One of the absolute best Austen books, and that is saying something, Northanger Abbey is a spoof of the Gothic fiction of Austen's day. Katherine Morland is a rather empty-headed, naive young girl ready for an adventure. Ready for romance and horror, she is on the lookout for gloomy, haunted castles, secret lairs and wives locked in the attic...but mainly discovers that cabinets contain papers, not decapitated heads, and spare rooms are woefully free of haunts and murdered wives. Brilliant, fun, and even profound at moments, Northanger Abbey is Austen's most lighthearted romp.
    • 4/5
      What a bizarre and wonderful book. Hilarious, nasty, brilliant, kind. Never has authorial intrusion been so welcome.
    • 5/5
      (bought pre-1989: sticky backed plastic cover and student pencil notes)I’m afraid that I have to admit that this is my favourite Jane Austen, and I’m very glad I was inspired by Ali’s revisit to come back to it myself. The tale of young Catherine Moreland, very much not a classic heroine, and her adventures in Bath and staying with friends in the Abbey of the title, getting all overcome by her Gothic reading matter and having all sorts of imaginings, is so mischievous and cheeky, and even the gear change between life in Bath and the gothic misconceptions doesn’t clunk as much as it amuses. Austen has female friendships and sibling relationships down so exactly, and pretty well every page has a jewel: a witty aside, a delicious turn of phrase, a subtle unpinning of the fabric of “polite society” … and Catherine is a lovely heroine, even when she’s being silly.I do know this one really well (as my detailed student notes testify!) so there were no surprises on rereading, except maybe the balance between Bath and Abbey is rather heavier on the Bath side. It’s interesting having read it alongside “Jane Eyre”, the real gothic novel of the two, of course, and seeing the parallels: most noticeably, two solo post chaise rides across country: but Catherine is careful not to leave anything in the pockets inside the coach!It was lovely to be able to wallow in this one again – a very worthwhile reread.
    • 4/5
      As a lover of both the gothic genre of literature and Jane Austen, it was inevitable that I would read and enjoy this book. Witty and extremely clever, this book skewers the familiar story of an imaginative young woman who finds herself in a mysterious home where the mistress is dead and her son is out of the heroine's league but still highly appealing. This book will have you laughing out loud.
    • 5/5
      Throughout this book complications, misunderstandings and many interesting events occurred frequently, which made me want to continue reading. There were unexpected events, which triggered my interest and kept me reading the book. This book has a really interesting plotline; some of the events that occur are much unexpected. I have to say that I really like the characters in the book; they are all different and have interesting and distinctive characters. Overall I really think this was a great read and I really enjoyed reading the book!If you like your classics or want to start reading a classic I would highly recommend this book! AW
    • 4/5
      "Northanger Abbey" is definitely not my favorite amongst Jane Austen's novels, but nor it is my least liked either. The book succeeds on the back of its heroine Catherine Moreland, who despite being rather daft and silly is still fairly likeable and interesting.Catherine, who is enthralled with the Gothic romance "Mysteries of Udolpho," travels to Bath and later to an abbey she believes is imbued with all things "Udolpho." Along the way, she meets a variety of characters, some disreputable, some not... and it is all tied up in a neat and tidy package, as you'd expect from an Austen story.A fun story... more so if you've read "Udolpho" so you know when Austen is poking fun at the novel. I found this to be an enjoyable and quick read.
    • 5/5
      Jane Austen. Enough said - the greatest of romance writers.
    • 4/5
      I'm not usually a great love of classical lit, but I loved this book! I wiil definitly read it again. I'm going to move on to Pursuasion, since I'm a lover of Jane Austen now!!
    • 4/5
      I'd forgotten just how funny Northanger Abbey really is. Listening to it on audiobook this time around gave me plenty of opportunities to laugh out loud and the reading by Juliet Stevenson was truly superb. It is a shame that Austen didn't get to revise Northanger Abbey before her death as she had intended to. It is without doubt a weaker novel than her masterpieces: the ending is rushed and the two distinct threads of the novel don't meld together that convincingly. However, it is splendidly funny, the satire is sharp and the authorial voice witty. Austen's comments on the behaviour of immature young women, the demands of friendship and the influence of trashy novels feel fresh and relevant today. I enjoyed every moment of this wonderful book!
    • 3/5
      This was my first Austen novel, and certainly I've achieved a rite of passage by reading it. It seems the modern woman absolutely must read Jane Austen, or so I've heard. But I do have friends who are true fans, so I gave this a go.

      It can't be Austen's strongest work, and it isn't. This was her first novel, and while it's entertaining, it's not terribly profound or even full of the accurate character observations for which Austen is so famous. Catherine Moreland flits around in the novel and gets manipulated by nearly everyone with whom she comes into contact. It even seems her love interest (can't remember his name) frequently makes fun of her earnestness. The wrap-up is too quick and pat. But I'll read more Austen. I have more rite of passages coming, undoubtedly.
    • 4/5
      I liked this one! It was different from much of her other works and I found it interesting.
    • 5/5
      Delightful! Eye-read and ear-read through Librivox. This has all of the arch, wry parody anyone could desire.
    • 5/5
      I think this is my favorite Jane Austen. I found myself giggling throughout the whole book. I loved Catherine and how she would let her imagination run wild, and that Henry enjoyed spinning her up. I love the way Austen writes people, and how often you know someone like her characters.
    • 2/5
      Characters were childish. This is the first Jane Austen book I have read and was highly disappointed.
    • 4/5
      I thought this book was going to be a little bit different. So my expectations had me confused for a little while, but I came to my senses relatively quick. It’s Jane Austen, after all. All her novels are satire, so I have no idea why I decided that this one was going to be any different. Now that I’m writing this, I can actually parallel my confusion and certain attraction towards the supernatural to Catherine’s notions about abbeys and castles and old chests and so on. Look at me, I became the willing victim of Austen’s sharp wit, two centuries later. I love that lady.Would be silly to say that I didn’t like the book, because I really, really did. Several passages I found especially relatable (I hate that word, but it’s true). And as always I marvel at Austen’s ability to do so much with such a small world. Yet Northanger Abbey did not become my favourite Austen novel. Rather typically that place is still occupied by Pride and Prejudice.I read this book translated to Russian, because that’s how I began reading her novels years ago. Now that I have an e-reader, though, I could go a little bit in parallel with the original, looking up certain sentences and words (and marvelling at my complete lack of skill of translating fiction). Earlier I thought that Austen’s novels don’t lose much due to translation, but now that I had a chance to compare, I realise how wrong I was. It’s a little less painful than with Dickens, but painful enough for me to reconsider reading Persuasion in Russian, and to really just bleeding reconsider reading any other work originally penned in English in translation. Indeed, everything is lost in translation. Or, in the case of Austen, unnecessarily gained: the Russian parts that I managed to compare to English ones had much more unnecessary flourish in them than Austen would allow.(Review originally published on my blog, shortened and republished here.)
    • 5/5
      Hysterically funny, especially if you've read any of the gothic novels of her time. I particularly like the authoress injecting herself into the narrative, speaking of her own feelings about her characters. She clearly doesn't take herself too seriously...
    • 4/5
      After all that I'd heard about the book, I was surprised at how little space the Gothic aspect of the plot actually took up, and I enjoyed the story more than I thought I would. I found it amusing how Austen inserted her own blatant recommendations for novels within the novel, and the satirical way she handled her characters was entertaining. To borrow a quote from Alfred, Lord Tennyson, "Miss Austen understood the smallness of life to perfection. She was a great artist."
    • 5/5
      Jane lets her wicked humor loose in this book, poking gentle (and sometimes not so gentle) fun at just about everyone’s poses, pretensions, and delusions, but as silly as Austen makes novel-drama-obsessed Catherine she still allows her to be artlessly charming and a lively joy to spend time with, and on this reread I gained a renewed appreciation for the playful wit and heartfelt decency of Henry Tilney. Northanger Abbey has moved up a few places in my favorite Austen novel list.
    • 4/5
      Probably my second favorite Austen book. This is her writing a little more unpolished and natural, and you really get the sense of how funny she can be. I love how over-the-top Catherine is, especially when she looks at the world through Gothic-tinted lenses, and Henry teasing her about it the whole time. It’s a really good commentary on the views on women reading (specifically, the 500 word rant Austen puts in about having characters read “real” books, not novels). More people need to read this book, as it doesn't get the recognition it deserves.

    Book preview

    Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen

    ABBEY

    By Jane Austen 

    1803

    ADVERTISEMENT BY THE AUTHORESS, TO NORTHANGER ABBEY

    THIS little work was finished in the year 1803, and intended for immediate publication. It was disposed of to a bookseller, it was even advertised, and why the business proceeded no farther, the author has never been able to learn. That any bookseller should think it worth-while to purchase what he did not think it worth-while to publish seems extraordinary. But with this, neither the author nor the public have any other concern than as some observation is necessary upon those parts of the work which thirteen years have made comparatively obsolete. The public are entreated to bear in mind that thirteen years have passed since it was finished, many more since it was begun, and that during that period, places, manners, books, and opinions have undergone considerable changes.

    CHAPTER 1

    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, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her. Her father was a clergyman, without being neglected, or poor, and a very respectable man, though his name was Richard—and he had never been handsome. He had a considerable independence besides two good livings—and he was not in the least addicted to locking up his daughters. Her mother was a woman of useful plain sense, with a good temper, and, what is more remarkable, with a good constitution. She had three sons before Catherine was born; and instead of dying in bringing the latter into the world, as anybody might expect, she still lived on—lived to have six children more—to see them growing up around her, and to enjoy excellent health herself. A family of ten children will be always called a fine family, where there are heads and arms and legs enough for the number; but the Morlands had little other right to the word, for they were in general very plain, and Catherine, for many years of her life, as plain as any. She had a thin awkward figure, a sallow skin without colour, dark lank hair, and strong features—so much for her person; and not less unpropitious for heroism seemed her mind. She was fond of all boy’s plays, and greatly preferred cricket not merely to dolls, but to the more heroic enjoyments of infancy, nursing a dormouse, feeding a canary-bird, or watering a rose-bush. Indeed she had no taste for a garden; and if she gathered flowers at all, it was chiefly for the pleasure of mischief—at least so it was conjectured from her always preferring those which she was forbidden to take. Such were her propensities—her abilities were quite as extraordinary. She never could learn or understand anything before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, for she was often inattentive, and occasionally stupid. Her mother was three months in teaching her only to repeat the Beggar’s Petition; and after all, her next sister, Sally, could say it better than she did. Not that Catherine was always stupid—by no means; she learnt the fable of The Hare and Many Friends as quickly as any girl in England. 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 spinnet; 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. The day which dismissed the music-master was one of the happiest of Catherine’s life. Her taste for drawing was not superior; though whenever she could obtain the outside of a letter from her mother or seize upon any other odd piece of paper, she did what she could in that way, by drawing houses and trees, hens and chickens, all very much like one another. Writing and accounts she was taught by her father; French by her mother: her proficiency in either was not remarkable, and she shirked her lessons in both whenever she could. What a strange, unaccountable character!—for with all these symptoms of profligacy at ten years old, she had neither a bad heart nor a bad temper, was seldom stubborn, scarcely ever quarrelsome, and very kind to the little ones, with few interruptions of tyranny; she was moreover noisy and wild, hated confinement and cleanliness, and loved nothing so well in the world as rolling down the green slope at the back of the house.

    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 today, 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 than a beauty from her cradle can ever receive.

    Mrs. Morland was a very good woman, and wished to see her children everything they ought to be; but her time was so much occupied in lying-in and teaching the little ones, that her elder daughters were inevitably left to shift for themselves; and it was not very wonderful that Catherine, who had by nature nothing heroic about her, should prefer cricket, baseball, riding on horseback, and running about the country 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 and so soothing in the vicissitudes of their eventful lives.

    From Pope, she learnt to censure those who

    bear about the mockery of woe.

    From Gray, that

    "Many a flower is born to blush unseen,

       And waste its fragrance on the desert air.

    From Thompson, that—

    "It is a delightful task

       To teach the young idea how to shoot.

    And from Shakespeare 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.

    That

    "The poor beetle, which we tread upon,

       "In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great

       As when a giant dies.

    And that a young woman in love always looks—

    "like Patience on a monument

       Smiling at Grief.

    So far her improvement was sufficient—and in many other points she came on exceedingly well; for 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. At present she did not know her own poverty, for she had no lover to portray. She had reached the age of seventeen, without having seen one amiable youth who could call forth her sensibility, without having inspired one real passion, and without having excited even any admiration but what was very moderate and very transient. This was strange indeed! But strange things may be generally accounted for if their cause be fairly searched out. 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.

    But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.

    Mr. Allen, who owned the chief of the property about Fullerton, the village in Wiltshire where the Morlands lived, was ordered to Bath for the benefit of a gouty constitution—and his lady, a good-humoured woman, fond of Miss Morland, and probably aware that if adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad, invited her to go with them. Mr. and Mrs. Morland were all compliance, and Catherine all happiness.

    CHAPTER 2

    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.

    When the hour of departure drew near, the maternal anxiety of Mrs. Morland will be naturally supposed to be most severe. A thousand alarming presentiments of evil to her beloved Catherine from this terrific separation must oppress her heart with sadness, and drown her in tears for the last day or two of their being together; and advice of the most important and applicable nature must of course flow from her wise lips in their parting conference in her closet. Cautions against the violence of such noblemen and baronets as delight in forcing young ladies away to some remote farm-house, must, at such a moment, relieve the fulness of her heart. Who would not think so? But 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. Her cautions were confined to the following points. I beg, Catherine, you will always wrap yourself up very warm about the throat, when you come from the rooms at night; and I wish you would try to keep some account of the money you spend; I will give you this little book on purpose.

    Sally, or rather Sarah (for what young lady of common gentility will reach the age of sixteen without altering her name as far as she can?), must from situation be at this time the intimate friend and confidante of her sister. It is remarkable, however, that she neither insisted on Catherine’s writing by every post, nor exacted her promise of transmitting the character of every new acquaintance, nor a detail of every interesting conversation that Bath might produce. Everything indeed relative to this important journey was done, on the part of the Morlands, with a degree of moderation and composure, which seemed rather consistent with the common feelings of common life, than with the refined susceptibilities, the tender emotions which the first separation of a heroine from her family ought always to excite. Her father, instead of giving her an unlimited order on his banker, or even putting an hundred pounds bank-bill into her hands, gave her only ten guineas, and promised her more when she wanted it.

    Under these unpromising auspices, the parting took place, and the journey began. It was performed with suitable quietness and uneventful safety. Neither robbers nor tempests befriended them, nor one lucky overturn to introduce them to the hero. Nothing more alarming occurred than a fear, on Mrs. Allen’s side, of having once left her clogs behind her at an inn, and that fortunately proved to be groundless.

    They arrived 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.

    They were soon settled in comfortable lodgings in Pulteney Street.

    It is now expedient to give some description of Mrs. Allen, that the reader may be able to judge in what manner her actions will hereafter tend to promote the general distress of the work, and how she will, probably, contribute to reduce poor Catherine to all the desperate wretchedness of which a last volume is capable—whether by her imprudence, vulgarity, or jealousy—whether by intercepting her letters, ruining her character, or turning her out of doors.

    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. In one respect she was admirably fitted to introduce a young lady into public, being as fond of going everywhere and seeing everything herself as any young lady could be. Dress was her passion. She had a most harmless delight in being fine; and our heroine’s entree into life could not take place till after three or four days had been spent in learning what was mostly worn, and her chaperone was provided with a dress of the newest fashion. Catherine too made some purchases herself, and when all these matters were arranged, the important evening came which was to usher her into the Upper Rooms. Her hair was cut and dressed by the best hand, her clothes put on with care, and both Mrs. Allen and her maid declared she looked quite as she should do. With such encouragement, Catherine hoped at least to pass uncensured through the crowd. As for admiration, it was always very welcome when it came, but she did not depend on it.

    Mrs. Allen was so long in dressing that they did not enter the ballroom till late. The season was full, the room crowded, and the two ladies squeezed in as well as they could. As for Mr. Allen, he repaired directly to the card-room, and left them to enjoy a mob by themselves. With more care for the safety of her new gown than for the comfort of her protegee, Mrs. Allen made her way through the throng of men by the door, as swiftly as the necessary caution would allow; Catherine, however, kept close at her side, and linked her arm too firmly within her friend’s to be torn asunder by any common effort of a struggling assembly. But to her utter amazement she found that to proceed along the room was by no means the way to disengage themselves from the crowd; it seemed rather to increase as they went on, whereas she had imagined that when once fairly within the door, they should easily find seats and be able to watch the dances with perfect convenience. But this was far from being the case, and though by unwearied diligence they gained even the top of the room, their situation was just the same; they saw nothing of the dancers but the high feathers of some of the ladies. Still they moved on—something better was yet in view; and by a continued exertion of strength and ingenuity they found themselves at last in the passage behind the highest bench. Here there was something less of crowd than below; and hence Miss Morland had a comprehensive view of all the company beneath her, and of all the dangers of her late passage through them. It was a splendid sight, and she began, for the first time that evening, to feel herself at a ball: she longed to dance, but she had not an acquaintance in the room. Mrs. Allen did all that she could do in such a case by saying very placidly, every now and then, I wish you could dance, my dear—I wish you could get a partner. For some time her young friend felt obliged to her for these wishes; but they were repeated so often, and proved so totally ineffectual, that Catherine grew tired at last, and would thank her no more.

    They were not long able, however, to enjoy the repose of the eminence they had so laboriously gained. Everybody was shortly in motion for tea, and they must squeeze out like the rest. Catherine began to feel something of disappointment—she was tired of being continually pressed against by people, the generality of whose faces possessed nothing to interest, and with all of whom she was so wholly unacquainted that she could not relieve the irksomeness of imprisonment by the exchange of a syllable with any of her fellow captives; and when at last arrived in the tea-room, she felt yet more the awkwardness of having no party to join, no acquaintance to claim, no gentleman to assist them. They saw nothing of Mr. Allen; and after looking about them in vain for a more eligible situation, were obliged to sit down at the end of a table, at which a large party were already placed, without having anything to do there, or anybody to speak to, except each other.

    Mrs. Allen congratulated herself, as soon as they were seated, on having preserved her gown from injury. It would have been very shocking to have it torn, said she, would not it? It is such a delicate muslin. For my part I have not seen anything I like so well in the whole room, I assure you.

    How uncomfortable it is, whispered Catherine, not to have a single acquaintance here!

    Yes, my dear, replied Mrs. Allen, with perfect serenity, it is very uncomfortable indeed.

    What shall we do? The gentlemen and ladies at this table look as if they wondered why we came here—we seem forcing ourselves into their party.

    Aye, so we do. That is very disagreeable. I wish we had a large acquaintance here.

    I wish we had any—it would be somebody to go to.

    Very true, my dear; and if we knew anybody we would join them directly. The Skinners were here last year—I wish they were here now.

    Had not we better go away as it is? Here are no tea-things for us, you see.

    No more there are, indeed. How very provoking! But I think we had better sit still, for one gets so tumbled in such a crowd! How is my head, my dear? Somebody gave me a push that has hurt it, I am afraid.

    No, indeed, it looks very nice. But, dear Mrs. Allen, are you sure there is nobody you know in all this multitude of people? I think you must know somebody.

    I don’t, upon my word—I wish I did. I wish I had a large acquaintance here with all my heart, and then I should get you a partner. I should be so glad to have you dance. There goes a strange-looking woman! What an odd gown she has got on! How old-fashioned it is! Look at the back.

    After some time they received an offer of tea from one of their neighbours; it was thankfully accepted, and this introduced a light conversation with the gentleman who offered it, which was the only time that anybody spoke to them during the evening, till they were discovered and joined by Mr. Allen when the dance was over.

    Well, Miss Morland, said he, directly, I hope you have had an agreeable ball.

    Very agreeable indeed, she replied, vainly endeavouring to hide a great yawn.

    I wish she had been able to dance, said his wife; I wish we could have got a partner for her. I have been saying how glad I should be if the Skinners were here this winter instead of last; or if the Parrys had come, as they talked of once, she might have danced with George Parry. I am so sorry she has not had a partner!

    We shall do better another evening I hope, was Mr. Allen’s consolation.

    The company began to disperse when the dancing was over—enough to leave space for the remainder to walk about in some comfort; and now was the time for a heroine, who had not yet played a very distinguished part in the events of the evening, to be noticed and admired. Every five minutes, by removing some of the crowd, gave greater openings for her charms. She was now seen by many young men who had not been near her before. Not one, however, started with rapturous wonder on beholding her, no whisper of eager inquiry ran round the room, nor was she once called a divinity by anybody. Yet Catherine was in very good looks, and had the company only seen her three years before, they would now have thought her exceedingly handsome.

    She was looked at, however, and with some admiration; for, in her own hearing, two gentlemen pronounced her to be a pretty girl. Such words had their due effect; she immediately thought the evening pleasanter than she had found it before—her humble vanity was contented—she felt more obliged to the two young men for this simple praise than a true-quality heroine would have been for fifteen sonnets in celebration of her charms, and went to her chair in good humour with everybody, and perfectly satisfied with her share of public attention.

    CHAPTER 3

    Every morning now brought its regular duties—shops were to be visited; some new part of the town to be looked at; and the pump-room to be attended, where they paraded up and down for an hour, looking at everybody and speaking to no one. The wish of a numerous acquaintance in Bath was still uppermost with Mrs. Allen, and she repeated it after every fresh proof, which every morning brought, of her knowing nobody at all.

    They made their appearance in the Lower Rooms; and here fortune was more favourable to our heroine. The master of the ceremonies introduced to her a very gentlemanlike young man as a partner; his name was Tilney. He seemed to be about four or five and twenty, was rather tall, had a pleasing countenance, a very intelligent and lively eye, and, if not quite handsome, was very near it. His address was good, and Catherine felt herself

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