Northanger Abbey, chapter 23: The (Wrong) Plot Thickens

Credit to Jonathan Burton

Here’s the thing about this particular line of chapters in this novel: as Cat is taken on a tour of a magnificent household, I have struggled in previous readings to maintain interest. There are several reasons for this: a) no Henry, b) Eleanor’s personality is tamped down, c) General Tilney’s pompous manner weighs down the narrative, and d) the descriptions of the layout, the furniture, the rooms, are difficult for me to imagine (Shapard’s annotations have been a big help in this category). So what, exactly, am I supposed to take away from this house tour?

Hearing this “house-hunting” interpretation (at 53:19) of Austen’s works a few years ago has helped me re-contextualize her themes. Now, this doesn’t entirely apply to Cat’s situation because if she marries Henry, she won’t be moving into Northanger Abbey (he’s a second son with a parsonage). But General Tilney still believes that his wealth and incredible accommodations will persuade her to pursue Henry further, so this falls under the “house-hunting” theory at least in spirit.

There are two elements that keep this from being an ordinary house tour, however, and they both come from Cat. For one thing, all the modern conveniences the general is eager to show off fail to impress her entirely. Upon seeing the refurbished rooms and modern furniture, “Catherine could have raved at the hand which had swept away what must have been beyond the value of all the rest, for the purposes of mere domestic economy.” And charming though he is (to the point where Cat puts aside her wild misgivings about him), the general has an irritating habit of pretending to acquiesce to Cat’s desires: “the general could not forgo the pleasure of pacing out the length, for the more certain information of Miss Morland” and “he was convinced that, to a mind like Miss Morland’s, a view of the accommodation and comforts … must always be gratifying.” Cat does start to appreciate the conveniences of a full staff and the “comfort and elegance” of the bedrooms she’s shown, suggesting that she remains grounded in reality ... sometimes.

The other, more disturbing element is Cat’s waxing suspicion that the general has blood on his hands. Evidence #1: when Eleanor opens the door to a new gallery, General Tilney “angrily” calls her back and admonishes her for not attending to their guest. Eleanor quietly shares with Cat that in said gallery is the room where her mother passed away. Evidence #2: Eleanor reveals that she wasn’t home when her mother died (which leads Cat to assume that neither were Henry nor the one we don’t care about). 

Wait, you’re not convinced? Well, certainly, “Catherine’s blood [runs] cold with the horrid suggestions which naturally sprang from these words.” It’s a natural suspicion, guys! 

Later that evening, she watches him “slowly pacing the drawing-room for an hour together in silent thoughtfulness, with downcast eyes and contracted brow… It was the air and attitude of a Montoni!” (For those of you following along, Montoni is the baddie from The Mysteries of Udolpho) So focused, so sensitive is she to General Tilney’s movements that even Eleanor is like, he does this all the time. Even when he directs Eleanor to ring for the bell—essentially sending his daughter and guest to bed—his desire to stay to catch up on political news up plants another seed of suspicion in Cat’s mind. She imagines that he actually starved his wife to death within the abbey’s cells, though acknowledges that “[her imprisonment’s] origin— jealousy perhaps, or wanton cruelty—was yet to be unraveled.”

This is what happens when Henry isn’t around.

She ends the night determined to stay up in order to catch General Tilney returning to the scene of the alleged crime, but all her Scooby-Doo-gooding tires her out before 11:30. Will our girl hunt down the father of her crush and her best friend in the name of justice? And if she does, will she at least get a better look at this freaking house?

The Shapard Shelf: At one point, Cat experiences “disorientation” in how some of the rooms are connected, which aligns her with “what the heroines of novels suffered” in navigating “mysterious layouts and hidden passageways.” Later, Shapard points out how her “naivete and immersion in Gothic fantasy” causes her to miss how “Eleanor’s quick compliance with her father’s directives” speaks to General Tilney’s rigid control, rather than another made-up clue to some mystery going on at Northanger Abbey. (Talk about missing the forest for the flying buttresses.)