Catherine Morland, with all her enthusiasm and her mistakes, her modest tenderness and right feeling, is a most captivating picture of a very young girl.

How does Jane Austen direct her readers' response to her heroine throughout Northanger Abbey?

Written by James Durrant

Marilyn Butler, in her introduction to the novel, suggests that; "Northanger Abbey, ... from its first paragraph ... moves to characterise the naïve romantic private reader as a beginner; it flatters and shames her into becoming more ambitious. In this educative process Catherine the heroine shows the way." However, Catherine learns more in the course of the novel than simply realizing the naïveté of her reading habits. We see Jane Austen's 'anti-heroine' grow up , fall in love, and, through various strong betrayals of her unquestioning trust, learn to view human nature from a more realistic point of view. Throughout this maturing process Jane Austen's reader is invited to feel every emotion with Catherine, while maintaining a certain detachment which allows us to recognise Catherine's foibles and touching innocence.

Many of the mistakes that Margaret Oliphant talks about in her description of Catherine in the title above come from Catherine's extreme innocence. Jane Austen's heroine arrives in Bath as a young debutante and, entirely inexperienced in the ways of the world, is immediately impressed by the more sophisticated Isabella. After their first meeting this is clear as she watches her leave; "(she) admired the graceful spirit of her walk, the fashionable air of her figure and dress, and felt grateful, as well she might, for the chance which had procured her such a friend." Jane Austen's interjection here, ("as well she might"), expresses the reader's feelings at this point.

Up to now we have had few clues as to Isabella's less desirable character traits, and so we are guided, along with Catherine, into feeling grateful for her patronage of our heroine. No direct comment is required, however, when she displays her innocence to more amusing effect. Isabella having affected to not want the attentions of two young men who are watching her, Catherine characteristically takes her at her word, and so, 'with unaffected pleasure', she 'assured her that she need not be longer uneasy, as the gentlemen had just left the Pump Room.' This 'unaffected pleasure' is in stark contrast to the affected way in which Isabella does almost everything. Catherine is, as Jane Austen says, entirely 'artless' in everything she does, and we are invited to delight in her slightly naïve, entirely genuine approach to life throughout the novel.

This innocence, however, does not always produce feelings of delight in the reader. When Catherine has been tricked into missing an engagement with the Tilneys, she goes to apologize to them. However, the servant who answers the door says that they are out. Moments later, though, she sees Miss Tilney leaving the house. Her response to this is 'deep mortification', and we feel extremely sorry for her as she reflects on her innocence. "She knew not how such an offence as hers might be classed by the laws of worldly politeness, to what a degree of unforgiveness it might with propriety lead, nor to what rigors of rudeness in return it might justly make her amenable." Here Catherine not only displays her innocence but, as a result of this and her strong humility, she almost manages to blame the snub on herself. Had she reacted with indignation, our sympathy for her may have been reduced, however Jane Austen's presentation of Catherine as so self deprecating as to automatically put the blame for others' actions on herself increases immeasurably our sympathy and liking for the young girl. When this turns out to not have been a snub at all, but a result of General Tilney's obsession with time-keeping, we are as relieved as Catherine, as well as delighting in her unfettered enthusiasm as she considers herself 'one of the happiest creatures in the world'.

This enthusiasm is another of Catherine's endearing traits. Often, when presented with an enjoyable or pleasing situation, Catherine does not react with the controlled sense of decorum that we might expect from any other character in the novel. Her response is entirely natural and, in its clear honesty, very likeable. For example, when Miss Tilney suggests they take a country walk together, Catherine replies; "I shall like it... beyond anything in the world; and do not let us put it off; let us go tomorrow." There is a childish enthusiasm to almost everything she enjoys and, as a result, as here, her language often seems gushing and simplistic. However, amongst the etiquette-ruled, almost stuffy atmosphere of the book's era, this comes as light relief, and the honesty of her responses increases her likeable air. Henry Tilney describes her as bringing 'fresh feelings of every sort' to Bath, and it is this sort of reaction that he must be referring to.

Catherine is different. She is the antithesis of the scheming, cruel Thorpes whose every word and action has some unstated intention, and yet she tries incredibly hard to think the best of them and help them until Isabella's final, unforgivable betrayal. When, in chapter 26, Isabella suggests that Catherine's father is mean, she is understandable 'hurt by these insinuations'. However, she tries not to think badly of her, and, rather than believe that Isabella is greedy, 'endeavored to believe that the delay of the marriage was the only source of Isabella's regret.' Her growing maturity tells her otherwise, but her goodness of heart strives to see the best in people. Soon after this, when she sees Isabella and Captain Tilney flirting, she comments; "It seemed to her that Captain Tilney was falling in love with Isabella, and Isabella unconsciously encouraging him; unconsciously it must be, for Isabella's attachment to James was as certain... as her engagement." Here we not only see Catherine's automatic positive judgement of Isabella, but also her naïve view of human relationships. In believing that Captain Tilney feels anything close to love for Isabella, she displays her romantic views of relationships in general, as well as a lack of understanding of the two people involved.

Catherine again shows a misunderstanding of Isabella's penchant for saying things that she does not mean in chapter 16. Isabella having said that dancing was 'quite out of the question, her being so preoccupied with thoughts of her fiancé, Catherine takes her at her word, telling Captain Tilney that she will not dance with him, and telling Henry; "Your brother will not mind it, I know, .... Because I heard him say before that he hated dancing; but it was very good-natured of him to think of it. I suppose he saw Isabella sitting down, and fancied she might wish for a partner;". Here Catherine displays two further misunderstandings - the first that Captain Tilney truly does not like dancing, and the second that he is asking Isabella to dance purely out of concern for her. The latter comes from her judging others by her own, hidden motive-free standards, and Henry comments on this; ".... 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." This huge, unprompted compliment from Henry is a reflection of his growing affection for her refreshing innocence, and the blush and 'modest disclaimer' serve to 'verify' 'the gentleman's predictions'.

This good nature is seen in a different light in chapter 18. Isabella having told her that her brother has designs on Catherine, she is shocked. However, her rejection is very carefully framed so as to not upset Isabella; "I would not speak disrespectfully of a brother of yours, Isabella, I am sure, but you know very well that if I could think of one man more than another, he is not the person." The qualification preceding her rejection, coupled with the nature of the rejection, speaking positively of another rather than negatively of John Thorpe, give us a clear sign that Catherine is chiefly concerned with Isabella's welfare and reaction. This is confirmed in Catherine's next sentence; "I cannot suppose your brother cares so very much about me; and, you know, we shall still be sisters." The selflessness of this attitude, especially given the odiousness of John Thorpe, and the intentions of Isabella which will render Catherine's final affirmation untrue, make this response extremely endearing. Catherine is too good for her present company.

It is perhaps as a result of this concern for other people that Catherine at times lacks the courage of her own convictions. When meeting John Thorpe for the first time, for example, she frequently finds herself disagreeing with him, but does not have the courage to voice her opinion. Instead, she changes the subject, often only to be contradicted once more. For example; "Catherine, ... with all the civility and deference of the youthful female mind, fearful of hazarding an opinion of its own in opposition to that of a self-assured man, ... ventured at length to vary the subject." It comes as a relief, then, to see Catherine standing up for herself. The clearest example of this comes in chapter 13, when Isabella, John Thorpe and her brother James are trying to persuade her to replace an engagement with the Tilneys in going out with them. Catherine is determined not to, and, despite many insults and much pleading from the other three, she sticks to her guns; "If I am wrong, I am doing what I believe to be right."

This strength of character is a side to Catherine not seen before, and it comes as a sign of her slowly growing maturity. We feel pride as, after a trick form John Thorpe, Catherine remains determined; "If I could not be persuaded into doing what I thought wrong, I never will be tricked into it." This maturing process is as pleasing as the innocence that it replaces, and we are given many signs of it occurring. In chapter 8, Catherine begins to see Isabella's main fault - her affected feelings that are far from genuine. When Isabella forgets her curiosity about Henry to flirt with James, Catherine; "... could not avoid a little suspicion at the total suspension of all Isabella's impatient desire to see Mr Tilney." The ironic tone which Jane Austen lends to this observation maintains Catherine's complete lack of cynicism, but it still a pleasing sign of Catherine's growing insight into human nature. In chapter 18, she seems to be 'growing out' of Isabella, Jane Austen remarking; "Catherine was hardly aware that two or three days had passed away without her seeing Isabella for more than a few minutes together." This is a relief to the reader, who is by this time growing tired of Miss Thorpe's fatuousness. It would be a great disappointment, though, if such changes in Catherine brought a reduction in her genuine, fresh approach to life and a touch of cynicism. They don't and Catherine maintains too the tendency to romance that led her to be so enamoured with Henry Tilney's "mysteriousness" in chapter 5. When invited to Northanger Abbey, her imagination takes her into the world of the books she loves so much, and she dreams of "long, damp passages, .... narrow cells and (a) ruined chapel, .... within her daily reach." The delightful frivolity contained in her "hope of some traditional legends, some awful memorials of an injured and ill-fated nun," not only helps Jane Austen's gentle satire of the gothic, but also reassures us that Catherine still has that youthfulness that caused Margaret Oliphant to call her 'captivating'. However, once at Northanger Abbey, this romanticism causes many of the mistakes about which Oliphant also writes. From the chest which she finds in her room, which she opens 'with trembling hands' to find that it contains spare linen, Catherine's gothic fancies becoming more and more ridiculous.

The embarrassment that this discovery causes her only deters her briefly, and it is not long before she suspects General Tilney of murdering or holding captive his wife. Catherine's assumptions on the way to this conclusion often seem a little unkind. On one occasion she takes his aversion to taking his wife's favourite walk as a sign that he did not love her, and moves quickly to remark; "His cruelty to such a charming woman made him odious to her." Here, perhaps for the first time, the reader is a little ashamed of Catherine, seeing her take this gothic obsession too far. Eventually, however, she is brought back to her senses by what can only be described as a reprimand from Henry Tilney, and the 'tears of shame' that this prompts erase much of our displeasure with Catherine's actions and replace it with sympathy.

In an essay on Northanger Abbey, Norman Sherry remarks; "Catherine has first to learn to distinguish between literature and life, and then to learn the difficulties of ordinary life". The first sentence of chapter 25, "The visions of romance were over.", marks the end of the first learning process to which Sherry refers. Throughout the rest of the novel we see how Catherine endures the second, through betrayal by friends and help from Henry. She recognizes that her mistake about the General was all her own doing, remarking; ".... it had been all a voluntary, self-created delusion, each trifling circumstance receiving importance from an imagination resolved on alarm." This is mature self-analysis, and soon afterwards she goes so far as to think; "she would not be surprised if even in Henry and Eleanor Tilney some slight imperfection might appear hereafter." Her black-and-white innocent view is lost, and this goes a step further when, having betrayed her brother by breaking off their engagement, Isabella writes to her. It seems that Captain Tilney is no longer interested in her, (though she does not say so), and she wants to return to James. Catherine will not be fooled, though; "Such a strain of shallow artifice could not impose even upon Catherine. Its inconsistencies, contradiction and falsehood, struck her from the very first." The strength of the language here assures us that Catherine holds no illusions that Isabella's actions may be forgivable. So, we now have a heroine who, while still believing in the existence of perfection, (she remarks of Henry's home, "Fullerton had its faults, but Woodston probably had none"), recognizes true human nature and has grown into a delightful young woman. Having seen her grow up we feel a bond with her, and cannot help being moved when the General sends her home so ignominiously. Her polite acceptance of this, still endeavoring to save Eleanor's feelings, ("But do not be unhappy Eleanor"), and perhaps most surprisingly, still endeavoring to see the best in the General. This is seen when she tries to blame her fate on herself; "Catherine could not believe it possible that an injury or any misfortune could provoke such ill-will against a person not connected ... with it."

After all this, then, after all Catherine's dreadful experiences of her fellow man, betraying her innocence, trust and honesty, we feel very protective of our heroine. That she should end in 'perfect happiness' with Henry is a great pleasure to the reader. Catherine, then, displays all of the traits that Oliphant describes in the title. Jane Austen shows them to us through Catherine's own thoughts and her reactions to others. By maintaining a narrow detachment from our heroine we can make an objective judgement of her which is thus all the more favourable. However, as well as Oliphant's qualities, Catherine gains maturity from her experiences which, untainted by cynicism, makes her all the more 'captivating'.

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