In the following passages taken from Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey, the narrator and characters in the work make comments about the Gothic novel that may be representative of Austen’s feeling toward the genre.
Public opinion of novels as inferior artforms vs. novels as works of genius:
(Volume I, Chapter 5, page 25)
“[T]here seems almost a general wish of decrying the capacity
and undervaluing the labour of the novelist, and of slighting the performances
which have only genius, wit, and taste to recommend them. ‘I am no novel
reader–I seldom look into novels–Do not imagine that I often read novels
–It is really very well for a novel.’–Such is the common cant.–‘And what are
you reading, Miss—–?’ ‘Oh! it is only a novel!” replies the young lady; when
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
rough 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.”
Enthusiastic readings of Udolpho, other gothic novels, and interest in the “horrid”:
(Volume I, Chapter 6, pages 27-28)
But, my dearest Catherine, what have you been doing with yourself
all this morning? Have you gone on with Udolpho?”
“Yes, I have been reading it ever since I woke; and I am got to
the black veil.”
“Are you, indeed? How delightful! Oh! I would not tell you what
is behind the black veil for the world! Are not you wild to know?”
“Oh! Yes, quite; what can it be? But do not tell me–I would
not be told upon any account. I know it must be a skeleton, I am
sure it is Laurentina’s skeleton. Oh! I am delighted with the book!
I should like to spend my whole life in reading it. I assure you,
if it had not been to meet you, I would not have come away from it
for all the world.”
“Dear creature! How much I am obliged to you; and when you have
finished Udolpho, we will read the Italian together; and I have
made out a list of ten or twelve more of the same kind for you.”
“Have you, indeed! How glad I am! What are they all?”
“I will read you their names directly; here they are, in my
pocketbook. Castle of Wolfenbach, Clermont, Mysterious Warnings,
Necromancer of the Black Forest, Midnight Bell, Orphan of the Rhine,
and Horrid Mysteries. Those will last us some time.”
“Yes, pretty well; but are they all horrid, are you sure they are
all horrid?”
“Yes, quite sure.”
Henry Tilney informs Catherine Morland that Gothic novels aren’t enjoyed only by women:
(Volume I, Chapter 14, pages 86-87).
“I never look at it [Beechen Cliff],” said Catherine, as they walked along the side
of the river, “without thinking of the south of France.”
“You have been abroad then?” said Henry, a little surprised.
“Oh! No, I only mean what I have read about. It always puts me
in mind of the country that Emily and her father travelled through,
in The Mysteries of Udolpho. But you never read novels, I dare
say?”
“Why not?”
“Because they are not clever enough for you–gentlemen read better
books.”
“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good
novel, must be intolerably stupid. I have read all Mrs. Radcliffe’s
works, and most of them with great pleasure. The Mysteries of
Udolpho, when I had once begun it, I could not lay down again; I
remember finishing it in two days–my hair standing on end the
whole time.”
“Yes,” added Miss Tilney, “and I remember that you undertook to
read it aloud to me, and that when I was called away for only five
minutes to answer a note, instead of waiting for me, you took the
volume into the Hermitage Walk, and I was obliged to stay till you
had finished it.”
“Thank you, Eleanor–a most honourable testimony. You see,
Miss Morland, the injustice of your suspicions. Here was I, in
my eagerness to get on, refusing to wait only five minutes for my
sister, breaking the promise I had made of reading it aloud, and
keeping her in suspense at a most interesting part, by running away
with the volume, which, you are to observe, was her own, particularly
her own. I am proud when I reflect on it, and I think it must
establish me in your good opinion.”
“I am very glad to hear it indeed, and now I shall never be ashamed
of liking Udolpho myself. But I really thought before, young men
despised novels amazingly.”
“It is amazingly; it may well suggest amazement if they do–for
they read nearly as many as women. I myself have read hundreds and
hundreds. Do not imagine that you can cope with me in a knowledge
of Julias and Louisas. If we proceed to particulars, and engage
in the never-ceasing inquiry of ‘Have you read this?’ and ‘Have
you read that?’ I shall soon leave you as far behind me as–what
shall I say?–I want an appropriate simile.–as far as your
friend Emily herself left poor Valancourt when she went with her
aunt into Italy. Consider how many years I have had the start of
you. I had entered on my studies at Oxford, while you were a good
little girl working your sampler at home!”
Return to the Jane Austen page
Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. New York: Modern Library, 2002.
Contributor:
Stephanie Polukis