By Cali Mellin
In Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey, she provides a satirical critique of the unsavory and excessive elements of the Gothic by following the maturation of her own “heroine,” Catherine Morland. Catherine is immersed in the uncanny through texts such as Mysteries of Udolpho and The Monk, and she is brought along on this adventure by her new companion Isabella Thorpe. Isabella, depicted as absorbed, shallow, avaricious, and unrestrained, receives little sympathy from the narrator. What the audience finds in Isabella, though, is Austen’s most explicit critique of the Gothic. Isabella embodies the uncanny, excess, and homoeroticism that is characteristic of Gothic anti-heroes. Northanger Abbey demonizes these traits in Isabella’s character, even though they are also present in the novel’s heroine. Thus, Isabella stands for abject aspects of Catherine’s character. As Jerrold E. Hogle explains in her article about abjection and the Gothic, “In abjection the most multifarious, inconsistent, and conflicted aspects of our beings are ‘thrown off’ onto seemingly repulsive monsters or ghosts that both obscure and reveal this ‘otherness’ from our preferred selves that actually exists very much within ourselves” (498, emphasis in original). Rather than creating a ghost or a monster, Austen instead draws an unlikeable character to “obscure and reveal” the unsavory elements of her Gothic heroine. Although Catherine undergoes a test of character that results in her own maturation, by the end of the novel Isabella remains a reminder of the danger and repulsiveness of different aspects of the Gothic. Through a close reading of Isabella’s letter to Catherine, as well as Catherine’s response, I will demonstrate the way that Isabella embodies Gothic traits such as the uncanny, excess, as well as homoeroticism, and how Catherine casts such characteristics off in order to make Isabella her abject self.
It is in Isabella’s inconsistency that we find the uncanny most indisputably represented. Isabella expresses her avarice and ambivalence to James Morland after learning that his wealth is considerably less than she first imagined. She writes to Catherine, though, “I am quite uneasy about your dear brother, not having heard from him since he went to Oxford; and am fearful of some misunderstanding . . . he is the only man I ever did or could love, and I trust you will convince him of it” (203). Not only does the audience recognize the difference between Isabella’s words and her actions, Catherine sees this as well: “[The letter’s] inconsistencies, contradictions, and falsehood, struck her from the very first” (204). Isabella’s deceit has the effects of uncanniness; she becomes something both familiar and unfamiliar to Catherine, who recognizes her attitude and manner of speaking but not the events or emotions contained within the letter. In Nicholas Royle’s introduction to The Uncanny, he writes, “The unfamiliar, in other words, is never fixed, but constantly altering. The uncanny is (the) unsettling (of itself)” (5). The specific use of the words “inconsistencies” and “contradictions” is particularly indicative of the uncanny. It is not simply a lie that Isabella tells, but it is a narrative that is unfixed and that alters. Isabella spins narratives for Catherine that are not only untrue but change as she speaks and writes them. Earlier in the novel, when Isabella discusses John’s affection for Catherine and whether Catherine returns these feelings, Catherine exclaims, “But my opinion of your brother never did alter; it was always the same. You are describing what never happened” (138). This unsettling of narrative and truth is off-putting for Catherine and the reader. While the uncanny and its uncertainty is used as enticement and excitement for readers of the Gothic, Austen demonstrates in Northanger Abbey how its presence in reality is not only off-putting but also morally corrupt. After reading the letter that Catherine finds to be a fiction, Catherine tells Henry Tilney, “I wish I had never known her” (204). The separation which culminates in Catherine never returning Isabella’s letter is not simply an act of abjection—Catherine’s attempt to throw off repulsive attributes that may be present in herself—it also acts a punishment to Isabella for her deceit. Thus, Catherine rejects Isabella for her uncanniness that she shows through inconsistency of character.
Isabella is not only punished for her uncanniness but also for her indulgence in excess. Isabella writes to Catherine that she received her letters “with the greatest delight” and owes Catherine “a thousand apologies” because she is “quite ashamed” for her lack of response (202, emphasis added). This superfluity of language continues when she describes Bath as “horrid” and rejoices, “Thank God! we leave this vile place to-morrow,” complains that “every body one cares for is gone,” and writes of James that “he is the only man [she] ever did or could love” (202). Isabella relies heavily on exaggeration and an excess of emotion that Catherine criticizes as “disgusting” after having read the letter (204). This is a noteworthy response as Catherine herself reacts to the letter in a manner that is exaggerated and excessively emotional, exclaiming, “So much for Isabella . . . and for all our intimacy . . .! I wish I had never known her” (204). Thus, we see Catherine explicitly condemn a characteristic that she herself has and that is associated with the Gothic. Fred Botting explains in his introduction to Gothic, “Gothic excesses transgressed the proper limits of aesthetic as well as social order in the overflow of emotions that undermined boundaries of life and fiction, fantasy and reality” (4). Catherine repeatedly falls into this trap of letting her imagination create grand and excessive emotional responses within herself. Most notably, Catherine believes that General Tilney has murdered his wife, and after her attempts to investigate this, her emotions spiral: “[S]he ran for safety in her own room, and, locking herself in, believed that she should never have the courage to go down again. She remained there at least an hour, in the greatest agitation, deeply commiserating the state of her poor friend . . . at last . . . she was emboldened to meet [General Tilney] under the protection of visitors” (181). Catherine’s depth of feeling is expansive as she worries about General Tilney’s reaction to both herself and to Eleanor. She suffers from the “greatest agitation” and “deeply commiserate[es]” with Eleanor. Her fear causes her to literally run and hide for “at least an hour,” and she must muster up her courage in order to face General Tilney again. We see Catherine reprimanded for this behavior only a few pages later by Henry, and she largely grows out of this indulgence of excessive emotion by the end of the novel. Isabella, in contrast, does not grow out of her affinity for excess, and so again we see that by rejecting Isabella, Catherine and Northanger Abbey to condemn unpleasant and immoral behavior.
The final aspect of herself that Catherine must throw off is homoeroticism. In an effort to correct the homosexual feelings that Catherine holds for Isabella, she must ultimately end their relationship. Moments of romantic expressions of love emerge between Catherine and Isabella throughout the course of the novel, and this is visible in Isabella’s letter as well. After Isabella has expressed her disdain for being stuck in Bath, she writes to Catherine, “I believe if I could see you I should not mind the rest, for you are dearer to me than any body can conceive” (202). As already mentioned, Isabella has an affinity for exaggeration and speaking in excessive terms, and thus on its own, Isabella’s statement could simply be read as exaggeration, but read in the context of “if I could see you I should not mind the rest,” it seems to suggest that Catherine is a sort of refuge for Isabella in her current circumstances. The idea that Isabella’s love is something that no one “can conceive” also has clear homoerotic implications; the attraction and affection between Isabella and Catherine is not simply a platonic emotion, rather it something that is not immediately recognizable or acknowledged in their current society or reality. Isabella talks about Catherine with far more emotion than she does when speaking of James Morland, and even when she discusses her love for James, Catherine is implicated in this as well, for John is “the only man [Isabella] did or could ever love, and [she] trust[s] [Catherine] will convince him of it” (203). Catherine, who knows what Isabella’s love feels and looks like, is the only one who could convince James because she is the only one who has ever experienced it.
We see Catherine feel an attraction to Isabella as well. Catherine meets Isabella after Henry fails to make an appearance at the pump-room. The two women become fast friends, and Isabella asks Catherine to “take a turn with her about the room. Catherine was delighted with this extension of her Bath acquaintance, and almost forgot Mr. Tilney while she talked to Miss Thorpe. Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love” (32). This friendship quickly turns to “admiration,” “delight,” “awe,” and “tender affection” (32). Catherine is a sort of refuge for Isabella, and Isabella evokes strong attachment in Catherine—in fact, much more than Henry Tilney first evokes in her. The most Catherine feels because of him is “high luck” (27) and fear “that he indulged himself a little too much with the foibles of other” (29). In comparison to her first meeting with Henry, the response of “tender affection” stirred by Isabella is far more intense. We then read “the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love” as something sardonic and understand that rather than a balm, Isabella is something far more interesting and enticing to Catherine—something that causes her to forget Henry almost entirely.
After this meeting, Catherine “ran directly up stairs, and watched Miss Thorpe’s progress down the street from the drawing-room window; 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” (33). Catherine clearly feels drawn to Isabella—attracted even, in the way that she watches Isabella, her “figure,” and the “graceful spirit of her walk.” Even more, describing Isabella as “such a friend” implies a certain amount of specificity; there is a difference between Catherine’s relationship to Isabella than the other girls or women that she might befriend. Even more, when Catherine does cast off Isabella, she explicitly states that she “was ashamed of Isabella, and ashamed of ever loving her” (204). The distinction between these two statements is important: Catherine is not only ashamed of who Isabella is, but she is also ashamed of her own attachment to Isabella. Catherine is implicated not only in Isabella’s actions but her feelings as well. Isabella’s affection creates disgust in Catherine now, and Catherine’s own love for her is something shameful. Ultimately, Isabella is made to represent homoeroticism through her abjection. Catherine is absolved of her culpability of this homoeroticism, as she is for her fascination with the uncanny and excess as well.
By making Isabella an abjection of punishable Gothic tropes, Northanger Abbey is able to parody, critique, and employ elements of Gothic literature. Although Gothic tropes, such as the uncanny, excess, and homoeroticism, may make for enticing and enjoyable literature, Northanger Abbey demonstrates that these tropes should not extend past the realms of fiction. Through manufacturing Isabella as an abjection, though, Northanger Abbey creates an antagonist that does not parody but rather upholds Gothic tradition. Northanger Abbey fails to create Isabella as a wholly unsympathetic character—her own position in society is too fragile. Rather than a man with great wealth and a high station who acts out of pure selfishness and desire, Isabella is young woman whose only method for survival is marrying well. Her own motivations then, while still selfish, have an added layer of necessity. Although readers may find her character and actions distasteful, her own precariousness is undeniable. Rather than having fashioned an irredeemable monster, then, Austen writes a complex antagonist who still invokes sympathy from her audience. This is solidified further by the ambiguity of Isabella’s fate. We do not hear again from or about Isabella after Catherine reads and scorns her letter. Though Catherine punishes Isabella with abjection, her open-ended outcome indicates some benevolence from Austen. Readers do not learn that she married poorly, unhappily, or not at all, and so there remains optimism that Isabella may be able to survive regardless of her actions and the insecurity of her situation. Thus, though we certainly read Isabella as an antagonist, she is not an unequivocally evil or terrible character. Rather, like we frequently see in Gothic texts, her character is layered, multifaceted, and even uncanny. In an attempt to ridicule and chastise Gothic tropes, Northanger Abbey produces its own Gothic villain that is used to redirect Catherine’s desire into accepted heterosexual channels and to define her heroinism as characterized by honesty and carefully regulated emotion. However, ultimately, Isabella (who embodies all that the heroine must not be) is not entirely thrown off—in fact, she lives on as a reminder of a kind of rebellious, uncontained feminine identity.
Works Cited
Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. Penguin, 2003.
Hogle, Jerrold E. “The Gothic Ghost of the Counterfeit and the Process of Abjection.” In A New Companion to the Gothic edited by David Punter. Blackwell, 2012.
“Introduction: Gothic Excess and Transgression.” In Gothic: The New Critical Idiom by Fred Botting. Routledge, 1995.
“The Uncanny: An Introduction.” In The Uncanny by Nicholas Royle. Routledge, 2003.
The Gothic Novel 