With Jane Austen’s 250th anniversary approaching, and inspired by a conversation with “Emmett” author Lev A.C. Rosen, yours truly reflects on Austen’s use of Greek comedy to criticize toxic masculinity in all-time favorite “Northanger Abbey.”
In Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen creates a parallelism between the male characters of her novel and the two main stock characters of Greek comedy. On the one hand, she associates the characters of John Thorpe, General Tinley, and his son Captain Frederick Tinley with the figure of the alazon. On the other, she turns Henry Tinley (Frederick’s brother) into the eiron of the story. By doing so, she performs a critique of some types of masculinity, while recognizing in the queerness of Henry Tinley a new type of ideal man.
In Anatomy of Criticism, Northrop Frye1 analyses the four types of comic characters that define Greek comedy. Central to the unfolding of events is the quarrel between the eiron, or self-deprecator, and the alazon, or impostor, who respectively play the roles of protagonist and antagonist. The bomolochus, or buffon, and the agrikos, or churl, can be considered side characters, whose role is to amuse the audience.
The two most famous variants of the alazon are the senex iratus, or angry father, and the miles gloriosus, or braggart soldier2. An analysis of the two archetypes will bring the reader to recognize in General Tinley the representation of the angry father, and in John Thorpe and Capitan Tinley the embodiment of the braggart soldier.
To Frye, the senex iratus is characterized by “rages and threats… obsessions and gullibility,”2 a description that fits General Tinley. Just think of when John Thorpe convinces the General of Catherine’s economical wealth: he treats her as if she were the most eligible daughter-in-law. However, when he finds out the woman is not rich, Tinley returns to Northanger “very greatly discomposed”3, and urges Catherine be sent home, alone and in the middle of the night.
The miles gloriosus, on the other hand, is “a man of words rather than deeds.”2 His popularity is not a result of his actions, but of his oratory abilities, and that is, in part, what makes him a comical character.
According to Plato “we laugh at, and feel superior to, ignorant individuals who are deluded about their own importance and may grossly overestimate their wealth or their physical or mental endowments”4. Gentile applies the Platonic concept to John Thorpe: he bores Catherine with long, one-way conversations about the superiority of his horses, but his words are deflated by the mediocre performance of the animals5. His words lead to his comic failure; his braggart quality brings together the heroine and the eiron, rather than working in Thorpe’s favor.
While Thorpe embodies the classical qualities of the miles gloriosus, Capitan Tinley brings to life a more modern incarnation of the archetype: the military hero, who is described as physically attractive and charged with sexual power5.
According to Carolyn D. Williams, it was a common nineteenth-century belief that generals and captains had a military attitude towards domestic life. In the public eye, they were always conducting new campaigns aimed at “conquering people”4, or, in the case of Captain Tinley, women.
In her analysis of the male characters of Northanger Abbey, Gentile compares Thorpe to the warrior Rodomont—a character in Ludovico Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso, as the two share the same competitive and arrogant spirit6. It is interesting to point out that Austen herself uses the adjective “rhodomontade” to describe Thorpe as a “blustering boaster.”6
However, Rodomont is also similar to Frederick Tinley. Not only are both characters the expression of a military-like desire for sexual conquest, but they also attempt to be sexually engaged with a character named Isabella. As Gentile notes, Austen was surely in possession of a copy of Ariosto’s work6. This makes it likely that it was the author’s intention to play with the character of Rodomont by splitting him apart, and attributing some of his distinctive traits to John Thorpe, and others to Captain Tinley.
Up to this point, we have looked at the alazon characters of Northanger Abbey, highlighting the negative traits that make the readers see them as villains. It is, however, equally important to focus on the eiron character of the novel: Henry Tinley. Traditionally, the eiron is insecure and self-deprecating. Although there is no doubt that Henry possess both traits, it is also true that he can skillfully hide them4. In particular, he uses language to appear authoritative and establish himself as a dominant masculine figure. This attitude is highlighted in his conversation with Catherine about the improper use she makes of the word “nice.” By correcting her, he attempts to instruct her. He therefore assumes the role of mentor, while Catherine becomes the mentee.
According to Joseph Litvak, Henry’s patronizing attitude can be interpreted as his response to feeling inadequate and inferior to his father4. He sees in his father—as well as in his brother and John Thorpe, a model of masculinity that he knows does not apply to him. He consequently assumes that, by behaving according to their standards of masculinity, he will obtain the approval of his father. Henry’s final resolution to go against his father’s decision and marry Catherine stands therefore as a symbol of the acceptance of his queerness, and the realization that his being different is, in fact, a strength.
Sarah Eason defines Henry’s queerness in gothic terms. To support her thesis, she relies on the definition of William Hughes and Andrew Smith: “gothic is not, and never has been, an exclusively homosexual genre. Its queerness, therefore, is more than a matter of encoded sexual preferences and identities…To be queer, when taken outside of the sexual connotations of that term, is to be different”7. In a similar way, in Austen’s work, to be different is to go against the social norms.
Henry’s first demonstration of his queerness appears in chapter three, during his first encounter with Catherine. As soon as the two start talking, Catherine notices “an archness and pleasantry in his manner which interest[s], though it [is] hardly understood by her.”8 Not only does Catherine make Henry feel comfortable dismissing social conventions, she also enjoys mocking such norms with him. For instance, halfway through their conversation, Henry ironically points out that he has been negligent by not asking Catherine the questions that a gentleman’s etiquette requires. As their conversation continues, it is revealed that Henry is an expert of muslins. Catherine is surprised, to the point she almost calls him “strange.” However, such strangeness intrigues her.
Henry himself recognizes his unconventionality:
I see what you think of me…I shall make but a poor figure in your journal tomorrow… Yes, I know exactly what you will say: Friday, went to the Lower Rooms; wore my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings—plain black shoes—appeared to much advantage; but was strangely harassed by a queer, half-witted man, who would make me dance with him, and distressed me by his nonsense8.
Not only do Henry’s words confirm his self-identification as queer, but they also expose his insecurities about such queerness. Here, Henry behaves as the traditional eiron, who is aware of his insecurities, but sarcastically turns them into a joke. He finally outgrows his fears and self-doubt, and decides to embrace his uniqueness, rather than relying on a model of a masculinity that is ultimately toxic and outdated.
- Frye, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays. Princeton University Press, 2000. ↩︎
- Ibid, p. 172. ↩︎
- Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. First Avenue Editions, a Division of Lerner Publishing Group, 2017, p. 158.
↩︎ - Ibid, p. 78. ↩︎
- Gentile, Kathy Justice. “‘A forward, bragging, scheming race’: Comic Masculinity in Northanger Abbey.” The Jane Austen Journal, vol. 32, 2010, Gale Academic OneFile, p. 85-87. ↩︎
- Ibid, p. 81-82. ↩︎
- Eason, Sarah. “Henry Tilney: Queer Hero of Northanger Abbey.” Jane Austen Society of North America, vol. 34, no. 1, 2013, p. 1. ↩︎
- Austen, p. 15-16 ↩︎
Giulia Leo 