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University of Florida

“A Frivolous Distinction:” Self-Fashioning in

Austen’s

Anna Burbano

Undergraduate English Honors Thesis

Dr. Roger Maioli

Dr. Pamela Gilbert

April 18, 2018

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Abstract

Using the naïve heroine Catherine Morland as an ignorant agent of truth, ’s first novel, Northanger Abbey, guides its audience beyond the superficial veil of ​ ​ Regency England to reveal characters whose natures—confined within the bounds of polite society—are intrinsically linked to consumerist dependencies. The widespread classism and self-absorption seen throughout the characters of Northanger Abbey ​ extends itself to idealized identity construction, a device powered by fashionable consumption and purposeful dress. In this thesis, I hope to explore how self-fashioning through fashion is thereby introduced into the narrative and employed by the author as a ​ didactic characterization tool, a technique largely ignored by large-scale critical works but relevant in the light of tracking Austen’s budding literary prowess in Northanger ​ Abbey. For this, I am using the concept of self-fashioning as introduced by Stephen ​ Greenblatt in Renaissance Self-Fashioning. Greenblatt describes self-fashioning as the ​ ​ fashioning of one’s identity and public persona within contemporary social standards. This includes adopting conventional, upper-class dress to create oneself into a work of art. With this definition in mind, I will also be examining how consumerism is at the crux of Northanger Abbey and is a necessary consideration towards making sense of ​ ​ fashion (and self-fashioning) in the novel. As a result, my exploration will situate consumer practices within Austen’s broader representation of a consumerist society.

Introduction

When faced with the promise of a male suitor in Bath, Catherine Morland misjudges the importance of a fashionable appearance. While she lies awake for “ten minutes” deciding between two muslin evening dresses, the omniscient narrator of Northanger Abbey adopts a ​ ​ moralistic speech to disarm the reader of Catherine’s bias as a keen consumer: “Dress is at all times a frivolous distinction, and excessive solicitude about it often destroys its own aim,” the speaker pontificates, “Woman is fine for her own satisfaction alone” (78). The intersection between dress and direct narrative form, felt most keenly in the passage, begs the central

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question of how fashion, which plays a key role within the narrative of Northanger Abbey ​ informs each character’s social identity. Thanks to the rise of literary fashion criticism, contemporary scholars have not been remiss in discussing the strong presence of fashionable consumerism in Northanger Abbey, Austen’s earliest completed work. Their interpretations ​ ​ examine how Austen uses fashionable consumption as a personification tool for characters in the text and study the socio-economic factors that play into these consumerist attributes. Such seminal critiques have been offered by Claire Hughes, who studies Mrs. Allen’s and Isabella

Thorpe’s characters in relation to their consumerist tastes to show the lurking and dangerous power of clothes; Juliet McMaster, who interprets Catherine’s maturation as partly stemming from her ability to read beyond both dress and language; and Susan Zlotnick, who reads

Catherine, Isabella, and Eleanor Tilney as having different interpretations of female agency in the marketplace.1 Other scholars, such as Robert Merrett, judge the text as a critique on a burgeoning middle-class England, and still others read critically into Austen’s text to link together fashionable consumption with antisocial pleasure, as does Rob Horning, or patriarchal privilege and imperial politics, as is the case with Lauren Miskin.2

1 Hughes, Clair. “Talk about Muslin: Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey.” Textile, vol. 4, no. 2, ​ ​ ​ 2006, pp. 184–197. Taylor & Francis Online, ​ ​ www.doi.org/10.2752/147597506778052287. McMaster, Juliet. “Clothing the Thought in the Word: The Speakers of Northanger Abbey.” Persuasions, vol. 20, 1998, pp. 207–221. Jane Austen Society of North America, ​ ​ ​ http://www.jasna.org/assets/Persuasions/No.-20/mcmaster.pdf. Zlotnick, Susan. “From Involuntary Object to Voluntary Spy: Female Agency, Novels, and the Marketplace in Northanger Abbey.” Studies in the Novel, vol. 41, no. 3, 2009, pp. ​ ​ 277–292. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/29533931. ​ ​ 2 Merrett, Robert. “Consuming Modes in Northanger Abbey: Jane Austen’s Economic View ​ of Literary Nationalism.” Persuasions, vol. 20, 1998, pp. 222–235. Jane Austen Society of ​ ​ ​ North America, www.jasna.org/assets/Persuasions/No.-20/merrett.pdf. ​ Horning, Rob. “Northanger Abbey and Antisocial Pleasure.” The New Inquiry, 21 Feb. 2012, ​ ​ www.thenewinquiry.com/blog/northanger-abbey-and-antisocial-pleasure/. Miskin, Lauren. “‘True Indian Muslin’ and the Politics of Consumption in Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey.” Journal for Early Modern Cultural Studies, vol. 15, no. 2, 2015, ​ ​ pp. 5–26. MUSE, www.muse.jhu.edu/article/576758/summary. ​ ​

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These arguments—while successful in addressing how Austen pushes certain views of her characters through their relationship to shopping, apparel, and sartorial conversation—lack further inspection of why Austen, who is so purposely vague on issues of dress and fashionable consumption in her other novels, invests so much energy into dress descriptions and sartorial conversation in Northanger Abbey. Analyzing this text in the ​ ​ context of material consumption and identity formation, I intend to fill in the analytical gap by investigating to what effect Austen uses fashion as a deliberate tool with which to navigate interpersonal relationships and formulate identity in Northanger Abbey and why she does so. ​ ​ My central argument is that within Northanger Abbey, fashion and identity formation are ​ ​ intrinsically linked. To a large extent, the characters of Northanger Abbey construct and ​ ​ fashion their self-identity through fashionable consumption. They clothe themselves in the latest fashions and follow Bath conventions for dress impeccably so as to fit in society, though this dependency on consumerism reveals an imperialist and classist reality within the context of Regency England. I will argue that Northanger Abbey’s numerous allusions to ​ ​ clothing, not nearly so pronounced in Austen’s other novels, represent Austen’s juvenile attempt to ‘draw’ her characters by embedding personality traits onto their choice of dress.

Moreover, I will maintain that the way Austen typifies her characters through fashionable consumption is purposely didactic. Teaching her readers to view fashion analytically, Austen presents one-note characters, such as Mrs. Allen and Isabella Thorpe, as foils to Catherine

Morland and Mr. Tilney, whose combined commercial expertise is untainted by manipulative or self-serving motives. Throughout my paper, I will also investigate how Austen uses the threads of fashion, and talk of fashionable consumption, as a deliberate tool to navigate

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interpersonal relationships within the text and provide commentary on early nineteenth-century English social customs and behavior.

An emerging consumerist society in Jane Austen’s England

In order to understand how fashionable consumerism operates in Northanger Abbey, it ​ ​ will be helpful to first define the consumerist tendencies of Regency England in the early nineteenth century. With this in view, I situate the text within its contemporary socio-economic environment to provide a working understanding of the factors that play into each major character’s fashionable identity.

Centuries before Austen’s birth, sumptuary laws and the high price of textiles had defined distinct differences in the way they convey social status and emphasize the distinction between the aristocratic and those beneath them. Fashion had altered and unfolded, to a large extent, very slowly. But by the late eighteenth-century, fashions in

England changed on an unprecedented scale with the birth of a consumer society.3 Both men and women suddenly found themselves at the heel of short-lived fads, dictated to them by the whims of vendors and manufacturers.4 Wives were expected to bargain shop and to repair or repurpose old clothes to the advantage of their households, and women of all ages were familiar with the concept of dressing to advantage, though their increasing participation in the consumer market was invariably trivialized by contemporary narratives that sought to undermine women’s growing economic responsibilities.5 The emerging commercial society, which provided women with both domestic distractions and the opportunity to exercise

3 Pool, Daniel. What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew: from Fox Hunting to Whist ​ - the Facts of Daily Life in Nineteenth-Century England. Simon & Schuster, 1998. ​ 4 Taylor, Jane. “‘Important Trifles’: Jane Austen, the Fashion Magazine, and Inter-Textual Consumer Experience.” History of Retailing and Consumption, vol. 2, no. 2, 2016, pp. ​ ​ 113–128. Taylor & Francis Online, ​ ​ www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/2373518X.2016.1198624. 5 Parker, Sarah. Fashion and Dress Culture. Literature Compass, 11 (8), 2014, pp. 583-591. ​ ​ ​

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limited agency, presented a new challenge for women living in the Regency period. For the purpose of this thesis, let us consider where Austen stands within the arena of ever-changing fashion.

As seen in her letters, Austen was no stranger to dressing up nor too shy to talk of it, referring to her daily attire on numerous occasions and in great detail. As Li-ching Chen points out, Austen’s personal letters “supply us with evidence that she demonstrated her autonomy through her choice of fashion [...] She managed her images and appearances diversely in the private and public spheres and in accordance with the occasions” (9). Austen, along with her female contemporaries, understood the necessity of shopping for domestic goods and following garment trends in order to keep in line with social seemliness, though her pragmatic view towards dress would later be misunderstood as a careless dismissal of fashion. But while Austen and other women writers of the time ground their texts in the underlying complexities of consumerist style, her writing afforded less leniency to characters who, similar to her private letters, gush excessively over their latest purchases. A pragmatic approach to dress was, of course, preferred in society and would have been understood by

Austen and her readers, and the tension and anxiety concerning the potential vanity of dress is implicit within the novel, especially as regards Mrs. Allen and Isabella.

In considering how the underlying anxiety and complexity of dress fits into the narrative, let us turn our attention to Austen’s descriptions of dress as they appear throughout the novel to better understand how the imagery of dress shapes informs the narrative.

Because Austen so rarely describes a character’s state of dress in her novels, the times she does become marked with symbolism and purpose; therefore, a white dress is not just borne of a blind decision, and a conversation about muslin must be observed in relation to its value as a marker of sociocultural change in Regency England. This, as Claire Hughes states,

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makes dress “neither more nor less serious than any other topic,” an idea shared by the novel’s hero, Mr. Tilney.6 The interrelation between dress and expression is thereby understood not only to affect the reader’s perception of the character but Austen’s understanding of the society she lived in. Such a society was growingly conspicuous and centered around the core tenet of shopping as a cyclic source of entertainment and social survival skills. And while shopping was consistently a vibrant presence in town and country alike, nowhere could it become such a focal point of one’s whole daily routine than in a resort town like the one featured in Northanger Abbey, Bath, the seaside spa where our heroine ​ ​ Catherine first encounters an unfamiliar community of consumers.

Most of the action in Northanger Abbey takes place within the commercial city Bath, ​ ​ where the fashion industry was well-established and trends were set. Any reader familiar with

Austen will recognize her propensity to situate her characters in Bath, or have them talk of

Bath in her novels, but the material link between Austen’s visiting Bath twice while writing

7 Northanger Abbey, and then settling to live there while revising and later selling the novel to a publisher, is substantial. Though surpassing the age of her heroine by four years in her first visit to Bath, Austen, the daughter of a country clergyman who was born into the rural middle class, would have seen the city through Catherine’s eyes. In doing so, Austen brings into this early-written work her understanding of late eighteenth-century commerce and an intimate

6 Hughes, Clair. “Fashion and Fiction in the 19th Century.” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of ​ Literature, 7 June 2017, ​ www.literature.oxfordre.com/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780190201098.001.0001/acrefore-978 0190201098-e-72. 7 Austen’s first documented trip to Bath as an adult took place in November 1797; just a year ​ later, Austen began work on Northanger Abbey, originally titled Susan and then Catherine, ​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​ and visited Bath again while continuing to write Northanger Abbey in 1799 (Warren). ​ ​

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8 knowledge of popular consumer fads, deriving her characters from actual studies of Bath types. Catherine’s middle-class perspective is represented thoroughly in the novel and first solidified when she and the Allens settle in Pulteney Street while the wealthier Tilneys rent a house in Milsom Street.

Rob Horning describes the city of Bath as a fashionable location where “tourists do little more than alternate between shopping and making public appearances to display their purchases.” In this sense, consumer goods lead to an excessive display of vanity and are inherently antisocial and narcissistic. To Catherine’s inexperienced mind, Bath represents the larger scope of commercial activity that is inaccessible in her country town. Unlike Fullerton, a visitor in Bath can be “in pursuit only of amusement all day long” and find a variety of it to be had (84). But to the attentive reader, Bath is significantly more than a common ground of social activity: it operates as a clear microcosm for a newly-emerging English commercial world, presenting to its audience an accelerated view of marketplace excess and a hyper-awareness of fashion trends previously unnoticed by Catherine. Consumerist activity, taking hold on a class-conscious middle class, begins to characterize Bath as a major shopping center and cultural hub; its players, a revolving cast of convalescents and vacationing families, become entrapped in the increasingly artificial void of shopping and pleasure-seeking.

While Mr. Allen and his wife seek pleasure in consumer products, separate interests dictate a dichotomy between the gentlemen, who consume news media, and the women, who discriminately window shop. Austen notes this division, writing that “Mr. Allen, after drinking his glass of water, joined some gentlemen to talk over the politics of the day and

8 According to Jeffrey Nigro, Northanger Abbey is “so fashion-conscious that Austen felt the ​ ​ ​ need to apologize for the novel’s dated quality in her Advertisement, written thirteen years after the book was (according to her) completed.”

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compare the accounts of their newspapers; and the ladies walked about together, noticing every new face, and almost every new bonnet in the room” (75). Though both parties abandon personal time for social activity within their established groups, the diversions they take part in could not be accomplished without first having an intimate knowledge of commercial goods. By noticing visitors and new products first, the women are relegated to the role of gossip gatekeepers and savvy buyers while their male compatriots concern themselves with political events and the outside world. In this way, consumer goods are complementary to social functions and obligations, which leads to the rhythmic, repetitive cycle that Austen details so well in Northanger Abbey: “Every morning now brought its ​ ​ regular duties—shops were to be visited; some new part of the town to be looked at; and the pump-room to be attended, where they paraded up and down for an hour” (18).

The characters in Northanger Abbey are not without varying levels of consciousness ​ ​ of the consumerist society they live in. Mrs. Allen, Catherine Morland, Isabella Thorpe, and

Henry Tilney in particular are particularly consumed in their search to construct themselves through the fabric of language and clothes. Austen, herself a pragmatic consumer, is revealing to her readers three major items in Northanger Abbey: the role that fashion plays in ​ ​ society at the time, her characters’ defining personality traits and underlying motives, and her own opinions regarding contemporary archetypal consumers. In the next sections, I will illustrate how four case studies in the novel depict the role of fashion and consumerism as related to identity formation and Austen’s pedagogic intent.

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Mrs. Allen and the pitfalls of consumption culture

Within Northanger Abbey, Austen introduces a character who is so wholly fixated on ​ ​ clothes that she is, in fact, the ultimate expression of frivolous fashion and unchecked consumerism in the text. Mrs. Allen, Catherine’s unintelligent chaperone, is this character.

From the very start, Mrs. Allen is given an unfavorable impression by Austen, who describes her in the manner of a commonplace Miss Bates. “Mrs. Allen,” Austen writes in her trademark snark, “was one of that numerous class of females, whose society can raise no other emotion than surprise at there being any men in the world who could like them well enough to marry them” (12). Mrs. Allen’s unsavory introduction leaves nothing to the imagination as Austen glosses over her character to present a caricature unrivaled by any other female character in the text. In possessing only the “air of a gentlewoman,” Mrs. Allen is dismissed as a character to be reimagined as a trope (12). Austen’s unkind description of

Mrs. Allen thereby marks the latter as the novel’s conventional silly woman, a minor character whose primary purpose in the novel seems to be to irritate the protagonist, but whose sentimentalized drivel often unwittingly reveals truths that the heroine is unaware of

9 herself. With this interpretation in mind, Mrs. Allen’s seemingly endless references to fashion and clothes become no longer a routine quirk but a thematic issue embedded with deeper purpose.

In noting that, to readers of the time, Mrs. Allen would have appeared to be “not only a silly woman, an inadequate chaperone but recklessly profligate,” Juliet McMaster hints at the economically irresponsible nature of Mrs. Allen’s shopping habits but fails to assess its

9 ’s Miss Bates, mentioned on this page, is another example of the silly woman in ​ ​ Austen’s novels. Though Miss Bates’ tedious chit-chat annoys Emma to the point of rudeness, Miss Bates frequently sees more than she is given credit for (e.g., Miss Bates’ long-winded speeches reveal that Frank Churchill is more often at her house than one would think).

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social dangers (189). Mrs. Allen’s devotion to outward appearances, her profligacy, and her altogether scatterbrained nature make her a morally skewed companion. Through Mrs.

Allen’s dependent relationship with fashion, she introduces her young charge, and the reader, to the dangers of going through life with an uninformed, heavily biased mind. Her fixation on shopping, which Austen placidly describes as “a harmless delight,” quickly loses its charm when measured against the patriarchal and consumerist forces that dominate early nineteenth century England (13). While less able to corrupt young Catherine than the savvy Isabella,

Mrs. Allen’s improper guidance fashions her identity into a fantastical vacuum much like one of the Gothic novels Catherine is fond of reading. Within Austen’s narrative, Mrs. Allen becomes a mild cautionary figure, whose presence teaches Austen’s readers (on penalty of being labelled a Mrs. Allen themselves) not to be easily swayed into the surface charms of fine apparel.

Before Mrs. Allen is presented as a potentially corruptive figure for Catherine, she must first be allowed to be viewed as senselessly corruptible herself. In Austen’s text, Mrs.

Allen is a willing consumer who does not care to represent any point of view other than that which is already in vogue. This extreme concern for her self-image prevents her from seeing any other point of view as complementary to her own, and she even mocks others for their lack of participation in the unwritten social contract of dressing to the occasion: “There goes a strange-looking woman! What an odd gown she has got on! How old-fashioned it is! Look at the back” (16). Mrs. Allen’s concern for fashion relates entirely to conspicuous consumption, through which her higher status and socioeconomic role is affirmed via the purchasing of luxury items. Already lacking the traditional accomplishments of a fine lady at the time, Mrs. Allen is dim-witted enough to believe that dressing herself up in fine clothes will suitably replace her want of “beauty, genius, accomplishment” and “manner” (12).

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Thereby, in placing Mrs. Allen, a senseless consumer, adrift in a resort town that by its nature promotes repetitive consumption, Austen is reinforcing Mrs. Allen’s dependency on cyclical fashion trends and the superficial. Rather than shop wisely and economically, Mrs. Allen becomes a puppet to the styles of Bath and perceived notions of good economy.

One such way Mrs. Allen falls into the trap of consumerism is in attributing superior dress, and intimate knowledge of proper dress, to social prestige and excellence. Similar to

Georgiana Cavendish, the Duchess of Devonshire who, less than a decade before Austen’s birth, had wowed Bath society with her extravagant gowns and ostrich feather headdresses,

Mrs. Allen seeks to impress her acquaintances with superior dress. But while dress remained a topic suitable for polite conversation and an interest seen as harmless enough to women of society, the exaggeration of it would have inevitably been viewed as distasteful and even vulgar in Austen’s time. Mrs. Allen, too genteel to become a socially disruptive force, is therefore limited in how she may voice her fashionable interests. Being restricted by her class, gender, and birth, Mrs. Allen is only able to exercise her style expertise privately, which she does by judging others’ costumes and composing self-important personal remarks.

Mrs. Allen’s petty observations come, in part, from the inability to relate to her companions in any other way. Austen places half the blame of Mrs. Allen’s selfish conduct on her supplanting the role of motherhood with a consumer identity, which is tacitly acknowledged in the text with a conversation Mrs Allen shares with an old schoolfellow.

When on the listening side of a tête-à-tête with Mrs. Thorpe, Mrs. Allen, who is childless, finds that she cannot compete with Mrs. Thorpe’s maternal boasts. Drawing upon her singular taste to distinguish herself from Mrs. Thorpe, she instead eyes the first object she has ample experience with, lace, and uses it to prop herself up. Mrs. Allen disconnects herself from the conversation and, waiting her turn to speak, observes that “the lace on Mrs.

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Thorpe’s pelisse was not half so handsome as that on her own” (26). Through this comparison, Mrs. Allen’s gowns and Mrs. Thorpe’s children, while fully separate at first glance, become strikingly similar in their relationship to the speaker. By providing a quick study of the two subjects, Austen implicitly establishes Mrs. Thorpe’s children as the superior option. Mrs. Thorpe’s three sons are able to reflect on her via their own personal accomplishments—being “at Oxford,” “at Merchant Taylors’,” and “at sea”—while Mrs.

Allen’s lace may only fray and go out of fashion quickly (26). Her ability to purchase fine material and cultivate a stylish image is a measly consolation prize to Mrs. Thorpe’s beautiful daughters and talented sons, who will continue to represent Mrs. Thorpe long after she is dead.

When writing in dress as an inferior child substitute for Mrs. Allen, Austen shows some compassion for Mrs. Allen’s infertility while simultaneously undermining Mrs. Allen’s choice of replacement. On the one hand, Mrs. Allen’s situation seems truly pitiable. She is

“forced to sit and appear to listen” to her friend’s self-praises while having “no similar triumphs” to announce herself (26). On the other, Austen, being purposely unmarried and

10 childfree herself, seems unlikely to advance the assumption that Mrs. Allen has no other societal function to offer than her ability to procreate. Therefore, Austen counters Mrs.

Allen’s feeling of inadequacy in the conversation with Mrs. Allen’s small-minded sartorial observation, comically shifting the blame from her to her fixation on dress. Rather than condemn Mrs. Allen for being childless in a society that values women most for their reproductive skills, Austen laughs at her for substituting her hypothetical child with such a

10 In a letter sent to her sister Cassandra from Chawton on January 29, 1813, Austen refers to ​ as “my own darling child” (Letters of Jane Austen). Her substitution of a ​ ​ ​ ​ ​ child, which to this day remains a popular and established work, must be deemed more worthwhile than Mrs. Allen’s lace and muslin.

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meaningless and worthless endeavor of little introspection. Mrs. Allen’s consuming interest in dress is not a social ill, but the predisposition for it to turn competitive devolves Mrs.

Allen’s taste into a base pleasure that, moreover, proves to be unworthy of her attention.

Because fashion is, at its core, comprised of short-lived trends, Austen hints that Mrs. Allen is foolish to place her whole identity—an identity that would have otherwise been entrapped into a maternal role—into a superficial system with neither guarantee nor reciprocity. Mrs.

Allen, in being committed to fads, has tied her sense of self down to an unstable connection and reaps nothing of any significance.

The previous episode, short as it is in the text, sets the stage for further interpretation of Mrs. Allen’s sartorial opinions. On this issue, criticism falls short of addressing the moralistic purpose of Mrs. Allen’s character. Horning, who argues that Mrs. Allen’s fixation with clothes indoctrinates her with antisocial behaviors, renders her behavior selfish and isolationist.11 Merrett interprets the matter differently, arguing that Mrs. Allen is so fluent in fashion talk that she is simply unintelligible to those who cannot decipher her coded messages.12 According to Merrett, Catherine, who is not clued in to the social signifiers in

Mrs. Allen’s gossip, is thus unable to interpret pounds and pearls into facts about the Tilney’s socioeconomic standing. While both analyses account for Mrs. Allen’s fashionable talk being more than it seems, especially when read beyond Catherine’s uninformed point of view, I argue that Mrs. Allen’s self-absorbed personal narrative serves a didactic motive in the text.

Through shaping the identity of Mrs. Allen wholly through her dependency on clothes,

Austen uncovers the instability and worthlessness of fashion for fashion’s sake.

11 Horning, Rob. “Northanger Abbey and Antisocial Pleasure.” The New Inquiry, 21 Feb. ​ ​ 2012, www.thenewinquiry.com/blog/northanger-abbey-and-antisocial-pleasure/. 12 Merrett, Robert. “Consuming Modes in Northanger Abbey: Jane Austen’s Economic View of Literary Nationalism.” Persuasions, vol. 20, 1998, pp. 222–235. Jane Austen Society of ​ ​ ​ North America, www.jasna.org/assets/Persuasions/No.-20/merrett.pdf. ​

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In relation to Catherine, who fills the role of a juvenile reader within the text, one keenly feels the bad influence of Mrs. Allen. If Mr. Tilney, who has strong opinions on fashion but substantiates them with economical and practical expertise, is a dependable role model for Catherine, Mrs. Allen, a fashion victim, is hopelessly misguided as a chaperone and as a fellow woman. As a foil to Mr. Tilney, Mrs. Allen fares poorly in fulfilling her role as a parental substitute for Catherine while in Bath. Her concern for gowns overrides her instructional objectives, and Mrs. Allen’s inattention is even noticed by Catherine when the latter is left largely to her own devices: “‘But I had ten thousand times rather have been with you; now had not I, Mrs. Allen?’” says Catherine, “‘My dear, you tumble my gown,’” Mrs.

Allen replies uncooperatively (101). Even towards the end of the novel, Mrs. Allen continues to be supremely unhelpful in recounting matters unrelated to her wardrobe, saying “‘I have a notion you danced with him [Mr. Tilney], but am not quite sure. I remember I had my favourite gown on’” (268). These exchanges, while refreshingly droll, reveal that Mrs. Allen prioritizes her outfits over her responsibility to attend to Catherine in the absence of Mrs.

Morland. Mrs. Allen, who treats Catherine more like a nuisance than a young charge, is so unfit as an chaperone that she even puts Catherine’s social standing in danger. Drawing a parallel between a harmless shopping error and an objectionable open carriage scheme, she tells Catherine, “‘You know I wanted you, when we first came, not to buy that sprigged muslin, but you would. Young people do not like to be always thwarted’” (114). Mrs. Allen’s distorted ethical system compromises Catherine’s reputation in Bath, so while Catherine judges the issue as something of “real consequence” with regard to her public image and her personal morality, Mrs. Allen equates social danger to a commercial mishap and almost lets her get away with it (114). In doing so, Austen concurrently shows that Mrs. Allen is not to be trusted and that fashion, while serving its purpose as a socio-economic marker

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complementary to aesthetic taste, should not be consulted in tandem with major decisions.

Having overinflated the importance of dress in her life to such an extent that her moral compass has gone awry, Mrs. Allen becomes a warning sign for Catherine to not place such high value on material things.

This isn’t to say that Mrs. Allen is wholly a negative influence on Catherine. Austen writes, “Our heroine’s entree into life could not take place till after three or four days had been spent in learning what was mostly worn, and her chaperone was provided with a dress of the newest fashion” (13). In this one aspect—providing Catherine with proper dress—Mrs.

Allen’s extreme love of style does benefit her ward; it allows Catherine to blend into Bath’s social environment like a natural. Otherwise, Mrs. Allen’s example could be a guide to total intellectual and spiritual poverty in pursuit of commercial interests.

Mrs. Allen’s faddishness and materialism, feeding ignorantly into base commercial interests and channeling itself in petty statements and absence of mind, makes her a run-of-the-mill fashion disciple. Equally catty and superficial, she is conventional and insipid, having been able to dress herself up as a refined woman without the substance to back it up.

Mrs. Allen is a vehicle and satirical figure for Austen’s own views towards fashion and less of a full-fleshed character who has agency within the text; rather than self-fashion herself through dress, Mrs. Allen is fashioned by Austen to serve a cautionary purpose within the text. Her obsession about dress and her propensity to become a clueless fashion victim hints at the consumerist society forming in the early nineteenth century and the limited options this produces for women. As a result, the identity Mrs. Allen creates through fashion is vacant and superficial, and her existence serves to, sometimes crudely, warn the readers against a lifestyle of style over substance. Moreover, it sets up a dangerous precedent for Catherine,

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who must decide for herself what role outside influences, such as Gothic novels and contemporary fashion styles, must play in her life.

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A “fine lady:” Catherine Morland

Unlike Mrs. Allen, Catherine’s character is almost wholly unformed when the novel begins, and it is partly through her evolution in consumer ability that we see her grow as a heroine. Towards the end of the novel, Catherine’s mother, who has raised Catherine with little knowledge of the world outside Fullerton, begs the reader to see a change in Catherine when she reprimands her daughter for slowing down her progress on cravat-making. “My dear Catherine, I am afraid you are growing quite a fine lady. I do not know when poor

Richard’s cravats would be done, if he had no friend but you,” Mrs. Morland says, “Your head runs too much upon Bath; but there is a time for everything—a time for balls and plays, and a time for work. You have had a long run of amusement, and now you must try to be useful” (270). Similar to the roughly educated Catherine at the early stages of the novel,

Catherine’s mother Mrs. Morland sees only the surface level of the situation in front of her:

Catherine’s lack of attention to the task at hand of needlework and her erratic, glum behavior, which Mrs. Morland incorrectly links to a vain interest in assuming the characteristics of an ornamental ‘fine’ lady, or a Mrs. Allen. In reality, at this moment, Catherine is heartbroken and has, by then, rejected both the Gothic romances of her youth and, secondly but not stated by Austen, any devotion to finery that goes beyond utility. The ongoing household projects she returns to feel empty and meaningless, and Catherine’s inability to do needlework for the family may in part even stem from an unconscious desire to uncouple from the family.

Needlework, like other women’s activity done within a home, cemented women’s position as domestic servants in the household; it was a “highly charged activity in a culture that defined women in terms of domestic ideology” (Ford 75). By slowing her progress on Richard’s cravats, Catherine is subconsciously signaling to her mother that she wants to transition from being a daughter of the household to the leader in another. Her marriage to Mr. Tilney later in

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the novel accomplishes this promise of equal partnership—though it likely won’t signal an end to Catherine’s sewing.

It is no coincidence that Mrs. Morland uses the word “fine” to describe Catherine.

Throughout the novel, “fine” is used a total of 22 times, most of which are written in reference to its definition as a “high quality” adjective. Just as Tilney criticizes the contemporary use of “nice” to encompass a variety of definitions and meanings, we may further examine “fine” in relation to Catherine’s parallel journey as an intelligent consumer and perceptive heroine. As Catherine grows to view fashion more for its pragmatic use and less for its sentimental attachments, her maturity is revealed. She grows less the fine lady and more the perceptive consumer, abandoning her willfully ignorant stance on a material reality and maturing in personality and taste with help from Mr. Tilney. There she moves on from being immature and moldable to forming an intelligent identity outside of the world of novels and ball gowns.

“At fifteen, appearances were mending, “Austen recounts, “Her love of dirt gave way to an inclination for finery” (7). Though Catherine’s adolescence brings forth a newfound affinity to traditionally feminine activities, like pinning up hair and attending balls, she does not have much opportunity to exercise these feminine desires and attract the opposite sex.

Her sexual maturation runs the risk of being stunted in the uneventful Fullerton, so Austen hastily puts adventure in her way once she reaches the age of 17. Mrs. Morland’s farewell, beseeching Catherine to “always wrap yourself up very warm about the throat” subtly explains why Catherine’s journey is so essential to her emotional and intellectual growth

(11). Though kindly meant, Mrs. Morland’s advice sounds like Catherine is stepping out for the day rather than going on an extended vacation, and neither Mrs. Morland nor Mr.

Morland prepare Catherine for the situations that might be in store for her in Bath, especially

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that of attracting a male suitor. In terms of consumer knowledge in the household, it paints the Morlands as advancing a practical view of clothing without teaching Catherine the economics of style. As we see in Bath, this gives Catherine the inability to assess the intrinsic value from the market value of products and leads her towards the very common mistake of purchasing a product purely for its aesthetic worth and not for its durability.

Conveniently for this adventure-seeking Gothic romance reader, Catherine is whisked away to Bath for a considerable duration by the grace of the Allens, who are childless and prosperous. In Bath, where she is not eclipsed by six younger siblings whose youthful demands must surely attract the attention of her parents more than herself, Catherine is able to begin her journey towards becoming a lady of the world. Her arrival at Bath, a tourist-friendly city with a fashionable reputation, is a cotillion-like introduction to society. In terms of constructing a social identity from scratch, Catherine is very successful in this, having the best sponsors to vouch for her credibility, the Allens, and dressing up for the part.

Catherine’s fairytale transformation is somewhat subverted, however, in that it does not provide her the vehicle to stun all she sees before her in admiration of her beauty nor provide her with a prince, a Tilney, at once. Only two gentlemen compliment her in her earshot, but this is enough to please “her humble vanity” (17). Dressing well, therefore, flatters Catherine and sets her on the path of finding innocent girlish delight in conventional feminine dress and conversation, but it is disproven to have immediate transformative effects.

Now that Catherine has been introduced into society, she must decide how she will present herself in it. Her engagement with Bath society, and, by extension, the outside world, is informed in part by her ability to dress according to popular style. Like Catherine’s self-affirming journey to womanhood, her connection to fashion as a form of self-expression and an instrument of socially significant cues—within the confines of early nineteenth

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century fashion norms—is riddled with trial and error. She is tempted into an obsessive, surface level view of clothing by Isabella Thorpe, the sister of her brother’s latest Oxford companion. To Catherine, Isabella represents the grown-up, modish young woman Catherine herself can be, and who Catherine later tries to fashion herself into becoming by copying her dress and movements as Isabella’s sisters have already done to moderate success. Isabella

Thorpe is also described as a “fine young woman,” linking the two in their budding relationship to a womanly, grown up sphere (27).

At first, Catherine Morland is fooled by Isabella’s flattering appearance. Struck by

Isabella’s easy charm, Catherine grows entranced and watches “the graceful spirit of

[Isabella’s] walk” and “the fashionable air of [Isabella’s] figure and dress” with an appreciative eye (29). For Catherine and Isabella’s first meeting, Austen offers no explanation of their friendship as a relationship of equals or of one that is established because of common interests; the reader gathers that it is entirely Isabella’s elegance of dress, her manner of presenting herself, and her youth that makes impressionable Catherine feel instantly grateful for procuring her friendship. As a friend, Isabella’s value is to raise the humble Catherine up and, having “four years” more experience than Catherine, help her navigate Bath society (28). Their instant friendship leads way to a mutual dependency, whereby both girls use the other for social gratification and necessary costume fixes: “They called each other by their Christian name, were always arm in arm when they walked, pinned

13 up each other’s train for the dance, and were not to be divided in the set” (32). Just as

Catherine can measure the price of a gown only by it being handsome, so she judges Isabella

13 By illustrating the act of Catherine and Isabella pinning up each other’s train for the dance, ​ Austen subtly references the deficiency of women’s costume. Not only would a woman need to be attended to by a maid before a ball (an earlier reference to Mrs. Allen’s maid occurs in page 13), but during the ball, her gown requires careful attention and necessary alterations.

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purely for her social, conversational, and personal merits. Though Catherine can see through the loud, blustering flatteries of Mr. Thorpe, his sister’s dishonest manipulation and finessing, a touch more refined, strings her along.

For Catherine, the consumer market and marriage market are intrinsically linked.

Catherine’s two admirers, Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Tilney, show their true values through their willingness (or, in the case of Mr. Thorpe, unwillingness) to sully traditional ideas of manhood for the sake of polite conversation. Their knowledge of a commercial reality reveals their compatibility and eligibility as Catherine’s suitors. In their first conversation, Mr. Tilney is polite, knowledgeable, and honest about commodities, understanding their value as a subject that Mrs. Allen is crassly obsessed with and acknowledging muslin’s worth as a marker for economic utility. He realizes that talking muslin won’t endanger his masculinity and breaks through conventional barriers that label clothing talk as gender exclusive in order to lead as a good conversationalist. Mr. Thorpe, on the other hand, is unable even to assess the price of his gig and horse. He proves unchangeable in his macho, purposefully neglectful, and ignorant nature, stomping over the Morlands’ polite tactics to make him acknowledge their worth: “‘My horse! Oh, d—— it! I would not sell my horse for a hundred’” (45). And while Mr. Tilney teases Catherine’s gown in an effort to guide her into making smarter purchases, Mr. Thorpe is just as outright mean in dismantling dress as he is in brutally dismissing any contrary opinions. “Where did you get that quiz of a hat?,” he asks his mother, “It makes you look like an old witch” (48). Mr. Thorpe’s abominable behavior and forceful ignorance about commercial goods repel the honest Catherine immediately; Mr.

Tilney, in both kindness and consumer intelligence, promotes immediate interest and appeals to her inquisitive nature.

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Throughout her path to enlightenment, Catherine learns to use fashionable goods as social instruments. In an effort to hide herself from Mr. Thorpe, Catherine uses her hand fan to shun attention and exude casual disinterest. “That she might not appear, however, to observe or expect him, she kept her eyes intently fixed on her fan” (10). As Zoi Arvanitidou notes in relation to the role of dress within the construction of a social identity, material objects, such as Catherine’s fan, are able to act “as a filter between the individual and the surrounding social world” (3). In this way, the fan is able to gain utility as a tangible good. It becomes a part of Catherine’s identity and is used as a means of communication. By including this small exchange between Mr. Thorpe and Catherine, Austen cleverly signals to the reader that Catherine has learnt to look beyond the fan’s cosmetic role as a fashion accessory and is therefore more finely attuned to the feminine social environment. The fan practice registers as maturation on the part of Catherine, who up to this point has looked up to expert users of fashion—whether for show like Isabella or for instruction like Mr.

Tilney—rather than exercise her own agency as an informed consumer.

Catherine’s mastery over women’s products, first exercised in Bath, is subverted in

Northanger Abbey. In an environment where even the Tilneys are made uncomfortable by the forceful rule of General Tilney, Catherine is out of place entirely. Because she cannot exercise the feminine tactics she has learnt in Bath within the rigidly masculine environment, she lets herself be ruled by it. Her introduction to the abbey walls has rain “driving full in her face,” threatening to ruin her newly purchased straw bonnet (178). Like Catherine herself, the bonnet is pristine and proper, so when the rain attacks her on the way to Northanger Abbey, it signals an ominous shift reminiscent of the Gothic novels Catherine loves to read. Once stationed at the abbey, Catherine’s curiosity is even put on hold when General Tilney’s strict obedience to time, put into effect by the anxious Ms. Tilney, prevents her from examining the

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contents of an old chest: “Catherine had no leisure for speech, being at once blushing, tying her gown, and forming wise resolutions with the most violent dispatch” (182). Her gown preparations, ritualized in Bath and accompanied by females such as Mrs. Allen and her maid, are done in haste under Northanger Abbey’s male authoritarian rule. But the chest, with all its possibilities for Gothic intrigue, is revealed to hold a fairly domestic “inventory of linen” (190). A list of “Shirts, stockings, cravats, and waistcoats” make up one washing bill,

“hair-powder, shoe-string, and breeches-ball” another (190-191). The surprise is disappointing and quickly forgotten by Catherine, who is so untrained in reading consumer details that she does not notice how curiously out of place this gentlemanly receipt is.

Unbeknownst to the reader, the chest and its contents actually become a quasi-Deus ex

Machina, tying up Mr. Tilney and Catherine’s unresolved engagement with the introduction of a viscount whose marriage to Eleanor Tilney softens her father’s heart enough to allow Mr.

Tilney and herself to marry. This nameless man, according to Austen, was “the very gentleman whose negligent servant left behind him that collection of washing-bills, resulting from a long visit at Northanger” (283). As Darryl Jones puts it, “the laundry list is, in fact, that which represents the fiancé, and thus by extension marriage, in the novel, since he does

14 not himself appear: he is reduced to an inventory of clothing ” (61). Catherine’s imperception, therefore, prevents her from cluing in on Eleanor’s secret beau, just as it earlier hindered her understanding of Mrs. Allen’s wedding-clothes speech. Curiously, both link material goods to marriage as regards the economic implications of the latter. Catherine’s continual resistance to the domestic economy that drives her harmless love of shopping can

14 Of Eleanor, Jones says, “Indeed, the attentive reader will have noticed that Eleanor is herself identified as bridal throughout the novel: Mrs Allen, who does notice these things, informs Catherine that ‘Miss Tilney always wears white’” (61).

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thereby be read as a rejection of the patriarchal forces that guide commercial activity in

England.

When General Tilney rudely kicks Catherine out at a moment’s notice, both Catherine and Eleanor are so unsettled that they cannot pack well. Consumer goods, once so coveted by

Catherine for their aesthetic and social purpose, now become a hindrance. As both girls pack,

“Catherine in busy agitation completing her dress,” and “Eleanor with more goodwill than experience intent upon filling the trunk,” Eleanor designates herself as the project leader

(255). Looking beyond the clothes packing—Catherine’s immediate need—and registering

Catherine’s eminent need of money for the journey, Eleanor takes on the stereotypical masculine role when she preoccupies herself with the purse of her friend after being proven useless with the packing. The subversion of Eleanor’s gender role in regards to Catherine’s financial needs in this scene hints that Catherine, while having matured substantially, still needs a strong male presence to properly navigate in the consumerist sphere. While fleeing,

Catherine once again assumes a material object as a means to shield herself, using it for its functional rather than decorative use: “But with this approach to [Mr. Tilney’s] name ended all possibility of restraining her feelings; and, hiding her face as well as she could with her handkerchief, she darted across the hall, jumped into the chaise, and in a moment was driven from the door” (257). Catherine’s pragmatic use of the handkerchief while in an agitated state mirrors her earlier use of a fan to dismiss unwanted male attention in Bath. But while the

Bath setting allowed Catherine to use her fan expertly and attract Mr. Tilney’s attention, her use of the handkerchief in Northanger Abbey to hide her feelings for Mr. Tilney is less successful. Preceding a jumpy race to the chaise, Catherine’s feelings cannot be hid by the handkerchief, and her true nature shines through regardless of accessorial proficiency.

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Though initially at risk to follow Mrs. Allen’s and Isabella Thorpe’s lead as an ignorant fashion disciple, Catherine is indirectly influenced by Tilney to view fashion primarily for its utilitarian use, such as when she flourishes a fan to detract attention from herself in Bath and in Northanger Abbey. She dresses herself up in thought and dress elegantly, submitting to Mr. Tilney’s remarks and Eleanor Tilney’s example, and ultimately becomes the genuine product that Mr. Tilney seeks in both muslin and women. In terms of defining her personality through dress, we see this in effect most as complementary to

Catherine’s journey as a female object in the marriage and consumer market. In both markets,

Catherine defines herself as the learner and defers to Mr. Tilney’s judgment, though she finds small moments of empowerment in flourishing her feminine power through dress. Catherine actively rejects Mr. Thorpe with a wave of her fan and learns to see not the value of superficial commodities as Mrs. Allen or Isabella do, but regards them with genuine concern for their pragmatic purpose. Catherine therefore self-fashions, through practical expertise of responsible dress, into an accountable young lady no longer defined by inexperience nor unawareness of the commercial reality that guides her world. Her self-fashioning is synonymous with personal growth and is one of the least archetypal representations of fashion learning within the text.

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Isabella Thorpe, a thoroughly modern woman

When describing a friend she thinks to be much like Catherine, Isabella Thorpe says,

“‘I wish you knew Miss Andrews, you would be delighted with her. She is netting herself the sweetest cloak you can conceive’” (6). Given the illusory persona Isabella develops with clothing, one might imagine that she is referring to herself, not Miss Andrews. Between sensational Gothic fiction, handsome gentlemen passersby, and pretty bonnets, one of

Isabella’s deepest loves is fashion, which proves ironic when taking into account the superficial and ill-lasting powers it provides her. In her love of fashion, Isabella mirrors Mrs.

Allen, who is so voluble in fashion terminology that she absent-mindedly skips over subjects that don’t have any obvious connection to commercial goods. However, Isabella’s fondness for style goes beyond Mrs. Allen’s silly appreciation of muslin. While Mrs. Allen falls into the rabbit hole of consumerist pleasure, Isabella tries, and fails, to shape her identity into a first-class market good, using attractive dress as a tool to lure in wealthy male suitors. In doing so, she shows a profound misunderstanding of the opportunities fashion can provide for women of her station in early nineteenth century England and is consequently punished by

Austen for her socially subversive ways.

As Ford notes with regard to contemporary Austen fashion, garments of the time were becoming democratically similar, inspired by the looser French empire-waist gowns. The emerging English consumer society would have been able to present Isabella the perfect opportunity—one that notably would not have been possible for her earlier due to the higher cost of imported fabrics—to outfit herself as a valuable prospective bride with little cost to herself or her family. The concept of romantic courtship, also relatively new to England at the time, would have afforded Isabella better odds at finding a man willing to marry her with a small dowry if he found himself physically attracted to her. By placing her prospects into the

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thin hope of attracting a rich gentleman, whose affluence might grant her long-term stability and substantial pin-money, Isabella is risking her entire future for the promise of wealth.

Knowing that her strength lies in her striking appearance, Isabella promotes herself as a product of higher calibre. This purposeful capitalization of her beauty and social talents makes her the perfect foil to Catherine, who lacks disguise of any nature but whose natural personality successfully attracts the honorable Mr. Tilney. As critics including Zlotnick and

15 McMaster have shown, Isabella has a self-serving approach to clothing, which she uses for the purposes of disguise or social advancement. Indeed, as I will proceed to argue, Isabella takes things to the extreme by trying to purposely fashion herself into a higher social class and circumvent birth through her dress. By becoming the very image of a fortune hunter, rivalled only by General Tilney, Isabella becomes a warning to Austen’s readers against this unstable and ill-advised method of husband-getting.

When the imperceptive Catherine first comes into contact with Isabella, she is instantly entranced by Isabella’s charm and deceptive guile. Isabella, who is admitted to have

“great personal beauty,” forwards her prospects by capitalizing on her looks (29). In the art of flattery, Isabella proves to be most advanced and cunning, taking care to always meet

Catherine with “the most smiling and affectionate haste” while “admiring the set of her gown, and envying the curl of her hair” (51). Unlike Catherine, Isabella has already found great success in her looks by being hailed a natural beauty, which sets her on the misinformed path of linking beauty to potential social mobility. It is an example that proves dangerous to the pre-existing social norm, as Isabella’s sisters have already fallen trap to her example by

15 In “From Involuntary Object to Voluntary Spy: Female Agency, Novels, and the Marketplace in Northanger Abbey,” Zlotnick claims that Isabella is actively trying to sell herself as an article in the marriage marketplace. McMaster follows this thread in “Clothing the Thought in the Word: The Speakers of Northanger Abbey,” stating that “Austen extends her motif of clothing to comprehend dress as disguise” (210).

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“imitating her air” and “dressing in the same style” to success (29). While both Mrs. Allen and Miss Tilney let society dictate their decisions through fashion, Isabella does the opposite and bends the rules by dressing herself up and attracting rich men in an obvious and indiscrete manner. Even her superficial speeches, which impress only Catherine and her equally naive brother, are actually quite conventional and laden with formulaic over-exaggerations, similar to Mrs. Allen’s mindless prattle. Within the superficial topics of

“dress, balls, flirtations, and quizzes,” Isabella shines and commands herself the wiser of the three, owning superiority in the social and commercial sphere (28).

Of course, through this owned superiority of conversation and dress, Isabella bears a slight resemblance to another character of the text: Mr. Tilney, who many times addresses his own intellectual prowess in Catherine’s company. But what separates Isabella from Mr.

Tilney, besides the good-natured jest behind his bold comments, is that she doesn’t expand her expertise beyond topics related to Bath society, Gothic novels, and shopping. Unlike the genuine Indian muslin Mr. Tilney prefers, Isabella is nothing more than a product of her generation’s tastes and interests. When following anything of substantial worth, she is uncharacteristically quiet, but when discussing fashion and gossip, which are commonly intertwined by Isabella as she uses talk of fashion to flatter her way into Catherine’s heart,

Isabella’s speech is both hyperbolized and falsely condescending. By going from one subject to the other, Isabella signals that neither carry any special weight with her. Nowhere is this more glaringly obvious in the text than when Isabella follows talk of the Morlands’ approval of her pending marriage to James, Catherine’s brother, with an inappropriate reference to her wedding-gown. “‘Tomorrow?’” she wails to Catherine, “‘I know I shall never have courage to open the letter. I know it will be the death of me’ [...] A reverie succeeded this conviction—and when Isabella spoke again, it was to resolve on the quality of her

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wedding-gown” (133). In both dramatic exploit and lack of self-awareness, the scene reads like a sketch of Pride and Prejudice’s wedding clothes dialogue, whereupon Mrs. Bennet, ​ ​ who truly bears resemblance to Isabella, instantly breaks out of her moody spell to decide

16 upon wedding clothes for her youngest daughter. Without confirmation of parental consent for her wedding, Isabella is already deciding upon her wedding-gown, showing that she cares not about the Morlands’ opinion of her but of what they can guarantee her financially. While a successful marriage insinuates a certain friendly relationship with the in-laws, Isabella concerns herself only with the showy materialistic aspects of her wedding day. Her lack of deference to the Morlands’ judgement, while rude enough in conversation, is aggravated by her dismissal of a material reality with James as his wife.

Moreover, Isabella frequently turns language simultaneously on herself and

Catherine. “Do you know, I saw the prettiest hat you can imagine, in a shop window in

Milsom Street just now—very like yours, only with coquelicot ribbons instead of green,” says the insincere Isabella, hoping to flatter Catherine (35). As Chen points out, “‘How do you like—’” or ‘Do you like—’ is a phrase Austenian self-important female characters use to turn the spotlight on them” (12). In this scenario, Isabella directly alludes to a hat that has caught her fancy, then draws Catherine’s notice by pinning the topic on her friend. After switching the subject of the conversation to Catherine’s hat, she quickly brings it back to herself: “I quite longed for it,” says Isabella about her new favorite hat (35). This gives

Catherine the illusion that she might have space to talk about her hat in turn, where in reality

16 The passage in Pride and Prejudice I am referring to: “She was disturbed by no fear for her ​ ​ felicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct. ‘My dear, dear Lydia!’ she cried. ‘This is delightful indeed! She will be married! I shall see her again! She will be married at sixteen! My good, kind brother! I knew how it would be. I knew he would manage everything! How I long to see her! and to see dear Wickham too! But the clothes, the wedding clothes!’”

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Isabella immediately transitions to another subject, stripping Catherine of her agency to discuss the hat on her own terms. Later, Isabella continues the hat conversation for her personal gratification, faking an extreme interest in showing Catherine her hat to hide an ulterior, man-seeking motive. “I am dying to show you my new hat,” she says, rushing

Catherine to go towards Edgar’s Buildings (40). The attraction, of course, is not the hat, which Isabella abandoned in conversation long before, but the possibility of running into men who had admired her earlier. Her sudden interest in the hat is thoroughly fake and shallow, which is detected by all except matter-of-fact Catherine, who, being unable to disguise herself, cannot identity the strand of falseness in Isabella. Another time, when attempting to use Catherine to further her attractiveness for men, Isabella is thwarted by Catherine’s misunderstanding: “‘But, my dearest Catherine, have you settled what to wear on your head tonight? I am determined at all events to be dressed exactly like you. The men take notice of that sometimes, you know’” (38). Catherine replies, “very innocently,” Austen notes, that it ​ does not signify and Isabella pretends that she does not care what men think (38). By turning the conversation on its head, Austen illustrates how Isabella’s social manipulations with regard to dressing for the male gaze are ineffective when exercised with a female audience.

Doubtlessly, Isabella’s powers as a flirt are most potent when worked on a weak, masculine mind.

The correlation between dressing well to please potential suitors and actually attracting romantic suitors seems to favor Isabella at first, leading Austen’s readers to question the sincerity of Austen’s unforgiving depiction of Isabella. Isabella, who purposely disguises herself as a prettier model and constantly compares herself to others in an effort to belittle the other and assert herself as the superior model, secures a good match with seemingly little effort and seems unlikely to lose the connection. James Morland, Catherine’s

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brother who, like Catherine, is too good to detect manipulativeness in Isabella, is Isabella’s first victim. He is perfect for the task, being kind, deferential, and perfectly willing to marry and provide for Isabella. Of course, Isabella disregards the earlier points and measures James’ worth purely for his monetary draw, and like her earlier conversations with Catherine, she mentions their blossoming relationship only to satisfy her own vanity. When Isabella speaks of her first encounter with James Morland, she relates more of her pretty dress and her jealousy of another potential love match for James than of their love: “I wore my yellow gown, with my hair done up in braids [...] Miss Andrews drank tea with us that evening, and wore her puce-coloured sarsenet; and she looked so heavenly that I thought your brother must certainly fall in love with her” (131).

Interestingly, color dynamics play a role in Isabella’s speech as she notably contrasts her yellow gown to Miss Andrews’ purple-brown fabric. Because most characters are depicted as wearing white dresses, especially the elegant Miss Tilney, Isabella’s choice of a yellow gown on that day seems purposely uplifting, especially when paired against a ghastly-sounding puce. Given Isabella’s ability to assess and manipulate the male gaze, it does not seem improbable to assume that she deliberately chose a yellow gown to associate herself with happiness and positivity. If this proves so, it makes Isabella look all the more opaquely shrewd when she admits to wearing “nothing but purple,” James’ favorite color, after she dismisses him preemptively (243). It shows that, beyond her statements of regret and protestations of innocence in the Captain Tilney affair, Isabella is the same calculating being that she has always been.

By the time Catherine finally sees through Isabella’s web to the “inconsistencies, contradictions, and falsehoods” of such a scheming, forwarding nature, she is physically separated from her friend. Isabella, who is far away from Northanger Abbey, is only

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presentable to her via letter, where her schematic dishonesty is finally sensed by Catherine

(243). Isabella’s letter, as horribly constructed as her speech is, certifies that her character is the same as ever. Beseeching Catherine to persuade James Morland to take Isabella back as a fiancé, Isabella says, “Your kind offices will set all right: he is the only man I ever did or could love, and I trust you will convince him of it,” she says, immediately following it with the non sequitur, “The spring fashions are partly down; and the hats the most frightful you can imagine” (241). Equally demanding and nonsensical, the letter is evidence that Isabella has not learnt to mask her true intentions well enough. Lacking such supreme self-awareness and sense of decency, Isabella’s letter marks her as a contemptible character one is unlikely to feel sorry for. Her failure to secure a match with either James Morland or Captain Tilney, borne of pouring too much faith into the power of dress and leveraging her relationships unwisely, becomes an Austenian critique of women whose subversive attempts to rise above their station come from a place of greed and empty-headed vanity.

Isabella’s comparisons between dress and matters of importance reveals her inconstancy of affection and insincerity with all. Like Catherine, Isabella views the marriage market as intrinsically linked to the consumer market, but she is foolish enough to play high stakes with her romantic attachments and consequently loses on her solid investment, James

Morland. Scheming and coquettish, Isabella self-fashions herself into Catherine’s bosom friend and later reveals herself to be the viper in Catherine’s bosom. Much like Mrs. Allen,

Isabella is a character whose didactic purpose dissuades Austen’s readers from following her example, but, unlike Mrs. Allen, Isabella is willfully vicious and manipulative in using dress as an instrumentation of social evolution. While Mrs. Allen teaches us to not take fashion too seriously as a subject, Isabella teaches us not to take it too critically as a transformative force.

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Henry Tilney, the female-friendly consumer

Very early in his conversation with Catherine, Mr. Tilney mocks the female habit of journaling every minute detail, drawing from his experience as an affectionate brother to accurately read the female mind. “‘Yes, I know exactly what you will say,” Mr. Tilney teases,

“Friday, went to the Lower Rooms; wore my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings—plain black shoes—appeared to much advantage” (20). When Catherine answers him in the negative and invites him to entertain the idea of her not keeping a journal, he remarks, “Not keep a journal! [...] How are your various dresses to be remembered, and the particular state of your complexion, and curl of your hair to be described in all their diversities, without having constant recourse to a journal?” (20). Of course, the first meaning of this conversation is for Mr. Tilney to compliment Catherine’s striking appearance in an understated, Mr. Tilney-ish approach, but by doing so in such a female-friendly way, Mr.

Tilney crosses the traditional gendered barrier that associates clothes talk as befitting female conversation only. His discerning eye, while appreciative of Catherine’s dress, does not purposely read into her financial situation—which he may judge from her use of fabric—and makes the focal point of his critical reflection Catherine’s mind and not her value as a marketable good.

Mr. Tilney’s teasing, which leads the way to further gentle mockery of women’s letter-writing abilities, reveals Mr. Tilney’s deep knowledge of women’s personal lives, which he is explicitly privy to thanks to his close bond with Eleanor, his reading of novels, and even through his profession as a clergyman. Mr. Tilney’s intimate understanding of fashion terminology and his related teasing subverts the hero-heroine meeting by showcasing friendly banter and presenting a hero sympathetic to the fancies and economical concerns of women. He has both a sharp mind and an intimate knowledge of fabrics, so while McMaster

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claims “the champion of dress in this novel is female, the champion of language, male,” we say that Tilney has mastered both.

While critics read Mr. Tilney as a full-fleshed character whose practical mastery over the female consumer experience make him uniquely different from Austen’s other heroes,

Austen scholars have been the most divided in their treatment of what Mr. Tilney represents in the text. Sarah Eason, for instance, argues the case that Henry is not simply feminized but in fact a “feminine-identifying hero.” Stephanie Eddleman refutes this material point, saying that though Henry is feminized, his intimate awareness of female etiquette is “definitely not effeminate.” And Miskin invites us to look at Henry as neither an androgynous character or a marginalized hero but as a staunchly privileged and patriarchal male, whose regulatory designs parallel the reigning British merchants’ imperialist-informed tactics. Though the aforementioned analyses have sound basis in the text, I am most inclined to agree with

Eddleman’s interpretation of Mr. Tilney for the explicit benefit of defining his character in relation to Austen’s original intent. Offering the least radical explanation of Mr. Tilney’s character formation through dress, this discourse seems most to align with Austen’s tuitional vision of Mr. Tilney, who is neither as womanish nor vilified as Eason and Miskin might suggest. Fulfilling the role of Catherine’s witty but kind-hearted mentor in the text, Mr.

Tilney guides Catherine to become a well-informed consumer through his verbal and outward examples. As I will further elaborate, Mr. Tilney’s readiness to teach Catherine and, by proxy, the reader, how to navigate the commercial world as a sensible consumer makes him the ultimate behavioral guide in how to balance commercial knowledge and personal taste prudently. In the sense of providing authorial insights within the narrative of Northanger ​ Abbey, Mr. Tilney’s decisive comments on appearance and fashionable consumption most ​ reflect Austen’s logical tone, further defining him as the voice of reason within the text.

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Unlike Catherine, Mr. Tilney doesn’t undergo significant growth but has already reached general maturity by the time he meets Catherine, having a stable vocational career and a home of his own. His introduction is inoffensive and mild, painting him as a man of the democratic order: “The master of the ceremonies introduced to her a very gentlemanlike young man as a partner; his name was Tilney” (18). While Mr. Tilney’s brother Frederick, who is the firstborn son and an alpha male, attracts attention instantly from the class-conscious Isabella, Henry’s appearance is understated and honest. His physical presence, “if not quite handsome,” is warm enough to attract the simple-hearted Catherine

(18). His and Catherine’s slow-moving courtship, established first as a solid and dependable friendship, is open and teasing. Much like his relationship with Catherine, Mr. Tilney’s penetrative conversation about dress, embedded with significant social cues and financial commentary, establishes him as Catherine’s cerebral collaborator, though he uses his intellectual superiority not to undermine Catherine but to help her grow. In doing so, his self-fashioning has less to do with authoritative control or embodying the feminine role and more to do with channeling his energies into fostering Catherine’s maturation as a fellow enthusiastic consumer of Gothic novels and muslin.

The first ballroom scene with Catherine carries most of Mr. Tilney’s fashion philosophies and introduces him as a positive role model for Catherine. Interrupted by a fretful Mrs. Allen, who has torn her gown and is now addressing its original cost point, Mr.

Tilney good-naturedly addresses her and includes her into the conversation by guessing at the price of her gown: “‘That is exactly what I should have guessed it, madam,’ said Mr. Tilney, looking at the muslin” (21). Though Mr. Tilney observes Mrs. Allen’s dress in a complimentary light, he exhibits a deeper understanding of muslin in a matter-of-fact tone.

Instead of defining the muslin in terms of aesthetic or social value, as Mrs. Allen does, Mr.

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Tilney evaluates it from a strictly economic sense. While the dialogue centers around an atypical subject for a gentleman, Mr. Tilney’s treatment of it, from the standpoint of an intelligent consumer discussing its economic utility, is anything but unusual. Mr. Tilney’s speech is not overtly impassioned but kindly meant, and he is shown to be sensible and caring in his ability to bypass social conventionality for the sake of being a present listener.

The conversation continues in a friendly manner as Mr. Tilney says, “I always buy my own cravats, and am allowed to be an excellent judge; and my sister has often trusted me in the choice of a gown. I bought one for her the other day, and it was pronounced to be a prodigious bargain by every lady who saw it” (22). Unlike Mrs. Allen, who bores and confuses Catherine with her constant dress chatter, Mr. Tilney’s talk is entertaining, informative, and to-the-point. His short speech reveals to the audience that he is a caring brother and a sharp shopper—both facts that further depict him as a respectable young man.

By presenting information on Mr. Tilney’s consumer background through dress talk, Austen shows that fashion can be an appropriate topic of conversation between the sexes, especially when exercised with a nimble mind such as Mr. Tilney’s. He further proves to be female-friendly by being present and engaging in the conversation and feigning concern for

Mrs. Allen’s ripped muslin: “But then you know, madam, muslin always turns to some account or other [...] Muslin can never be said to be wasted. I have heard my sister say so forty times, when she has been extravagant in buying more than she wanted, or careless in cutting it to pieces” (22). Though Catherine notices that Mr. Tilney indulges himself slightly on the foibles of those around him, such as Mrs. Allen, his comments lack a malicious intent.

Mr. Tilney’s ability to forfeit his own agency within the conversation and follow Mrs. Allen’s lead, while clearly intellectually inferior to himself, even highlights his cooperative nature. In

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direct contrast to Isabella, who oversentimentalizes her speech only to draw attention to herself, Mr. Tilney’s gracious actions speak louder than words.

Given his kind treatment of the silly Mrs. Allen, it is no wonder that Catherine, who wants so desperately to be enlightened in the ways of the world, delights in Mr. Tilney as a prospective mentor. While Mrs. Allen clothes Catherine for the journey with shopping and presents her with a maid to dress her up, and Isabella tries in vain to encourage Catherine into dressing like her for the benefit of male appraisal, it is Mr. Tilney who actively takes a large role in furnishing Catherine’s mind by showing her the deficiencies of feminine internal dialogue and encouraging her to grow beyond Mrs. Allen’s and Isabella’s bad influence.

Additionally, he introduces Catherine to his elegant sister, whose mature code of conduct is physically personified in her ability to “dress handsomely” (71). By being gallant enough to offer Catherine the friendship of Eleanor in Bath and Northanger Abbey, Mr. Tilney shows self-awareness of his limitations as a male companion. Unable to offer genuine female friendship to either his sister nor Catherine, Mr. Tilney does the next best thing, which is to allow both women to flourish together in mutual companionship.

Mr. Tilney’s ability to help Catherine mature is informed by his marginalized background. Overshadowed in General Tilney’s militaristic and patriarchal abbey, Henry becomes a hero to the underrepresented member of his household, Eleanor, and comes to be defined as a female-friendly icon attuned to women’s consumerist needs. Being a cooperative brother, he understands the female experience as a buyer and possessor of taste, complementing his autonomy within the male-dominated consumerist economy. Mr. Tilney’s gentler, characteristics, symptomatic of the beta male, go in unison with female behavior, though he is not particularly effeminate in manner.17 Being doubly knowledgeable about

17 Graham introduces the concept of Mr. Tilney as the beta male in “Henry Tilney: Portrait of ​ the Hero as Beta Male.”

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dress as relating to women’s appearance and men’s dictating consumer tastes, Mr. Tilney becomes the perfect source of information for Catherine. He understands the value of good economy from the buyer’s perspective and from a worldview outlook, telling Mrs. Allen “I gave but five shillings a yard for it, and a true Indian muslin.” (22). Like the female characters of the novel, Mr. Tilney understands dressing well to appear to advantage and fit in society, but advances this knowledge with an understanding of its place in the British imperialist realm.

Drawing from Mr. Tilney’s noble actions within the novel, he can be read as an accurate representation of Austen’s role model hero, who earnestly teaches Catherine how to comport herself as a responsible consumer. Austen, whose pragmatic yet sarcastic voice seems to come up in Mr. Tilney’s dialogue, depicts him wholly as a sympathetic friend and authentic mentor. While Isabella dresses herself up for social benefit, Mr. Tilney waters down his opinions to make them understandable by Catherine, though his didactic speech is not dismissive of her intellectual ability. Because he is so advanced in his own understanding of the role that consumer forces play in England, Mr. Tilney provides instead a service to

Catherine and the mission of his character, while more fully-fleshed than the others, is intrinsically related to his ability to shape the heroine Catherine into the heroine she is meant to be. His motive is therefore moral in nature, and just as Mr. Tilney teaches Catherine to read more introspectively into Gothic novels, he shows her how to have a sensible taste for fashion without succumbing to it or mishandling it.

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Conclusion

Within Northanger Abbey, the first of Austen’s novels to be completed, Austen ​ ​ presents a diverse study of characters who build their personas partly through their relationship with fashion and commercialism. Throughout my paper, I argued that Austen deliberately emphasizes the framework of self-fashioning through fashionable consumption in her characters in order to serve a morally instructive purpose. In doing so, Austen acknowledges the socio-economic importance of fashionable consumption at her time of writing, expresses obvious dissatisfaction with women who take dress too seriously as a subject or who succumb to fashion’s deceptive potential, and deals with the personal aftermath of an increasingly commercial Regency England. Moreover, Austen uses fashion as an instrument through which she can establish moralized character identities in the text, connecting descriptive dress, shopping excursions, and sartorial conversation with purposeful identity formation.

With regard to fashionable consumption as related to archetypal construction, I discovered that each case study I looked at—from Mrs. Allen and Isabella Thorpe to

Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney—varied widely in their method of self-fashioning. For instance, Mr. Tilney’s willingness to partake in superficial sartorial conversations, especially with the empty-headed Mrs Allen, and his ability to impart his expert consumer knowledge to

Catherine, reflects his good nature. His self-fashioning, much larger than himself, leads

Austen to brandish him as a mouthpiece for her own consumerist commentary. Meanwhile,

Catherine, who enters Bath with zero commercial knowledge, learns to embrace the utilitarian benefits of dress and self-fashions herself into a genuine commodity within the marriage

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18 market. Both Isabella and Mrs Allen, on the other hand, are cautionary, one-note archetypes.

Mrs. Allen, a fashion victim, self-fashions herself into a crude reflection of whatever style is popular at the time, and Isabella, too self-assured in the power of her appearance, fails to self-fashion herself into a higher social class. In the case of Isabella and Mrs. Allen, who are most dependent on fashion and consumer goods as a vehicle of self-possession and self-advancement, Austen explicitly warns us about falling into the trap of commercialism.

Just as Catherine, who is the least enlightened of all of Austen’s heroines at the beginning of the novel, learns from Mr. Tilney not to take events at face value and draw unfair assumptions from both dress and language, we may too learn from Mrs. Allen and Isabella not to dangerously obsess over fashion but to instead analyze it impartially from a knowledgeable consumer perspective.

Fashion and commercialism, being a most obvious and omnipresent feature of domestic life, lends itself to becoming a dominant player of Northanger Abbey. By using ​ ​ fashionable consumption as an instrument of character formation, Austen shows that fashion is an effectual stepping stone for providing didactic commentary on the consumer types that populate her contemporary England. Looking at her characters through the lens of fashion and self-fashioning both justifies fashionable consumption as a deeper subject of literary merit and explains the instructive purpose behind Northanger Abbey while paying homage to earlier ​ ​ criticism. By examining Austen’s earliest completed novel, I hope to open up the path into exploration of these themes in other novels through which Austen’s mature authorial tone continues to serve an educational and didactic purpose and to situate my analysis within the larger context of critical work within fashion studies.

18 Austen, in striving to get her message across that Mrs. Allen is the archetype of a doltish fashion victim, may have lost Mrs. Allen’s autonomy along the way.

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