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NORTHANGER 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

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