GRANTA

NORTHANGER ABBEY
Martin Amis

Jane Austen's novel 'Northanger Abbey' was

published posthumously in 1818. Martin Amis
adapted it for Miramax Pictures in 2001.
The film has yet to be made. This is how it begins ...
The authors of 'Northanger Abbey'. Jane Austen is on the right.
 Northanger Abbey

1.
EXT-NIGHT
A long, slow, ear-hurting rip of thunder, as lightning splits the
black sky.
The CROSSROADS. A magnificent CARRIAG E, led by six
snorting horses, comes to a skidding halt. The carriage door opens,
seeming to cue a biblical downpour. Our heroine, eighteen-year-old
CATHERINE MORLAND-bewildered, disgraced-steps down
into the mud. The carriage veers off, spraying her with slime. Down
the road, lit by a faint lantern, is a miserable POST-CHAISE with
two starving nags between its poles. Hitching up her coat and dress,
she makes her way towards it.
This is a dream and a fantasy-but is also a FLASH FORWARD
to Catherine's climactic expulsion from NORTHANG ER ABBEY.
Already drenched, she nears the post-chaise. Its interior is giving
off steam: a chicken can be heard flapping around in it. The
COACHMAN turns: his face has been eaten away by syphilis or
plague.
When Catherine looks behind her, she is assailed by flashed images
of recent events at the Abbey: heavy double-doors slamming shut; a
furious, shadowed countenance (that of G ENERAL TILNEY) ; the
swifily moving light of a lantern down a secret passage, leading to ...
Ahead, the door of the post-chaise yawns open. The chicken
struggles and falls silent as we hear its neck being snapped; also the
sound of bronchitic coughing and a terrible hoik-phthook! Catherine
peers inside: two filthy and thuggish YOUNG DRUNKS and a
brutish WHORE leer out at her.
The sound of HORSE's HOOFS has been building. It now
becomes a frightening clatter. She looks up. An improbably enormous
horse seems about to trample her, but, in one movement, she is swept
up on to the rear of its saddle. She clings to the broad back of her
RESCUER. Like the horse, he seems mythically vast; his top hat
seems to be ten feet away.
The post-chaise is lefi behind. Catherine is no longer just clinging
on. She embraces her rescuer from behind, with a smile of love.
Up above, the black sky.

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Martin Amis

2.
EXT-DAY
The black sky lightens, with swimming pixels of red and yellow. We
are on the other side of Catherine's eyelids. The eyes open suddenly,
to painfully bright sunshine. She blinks. She is thirteen years old.
An idyll is revealed: a sloping lawn, stout trees, a large Queen
Anne house and many, many CHILDREN.
There are ten Morland children-the biggest family in Jane
Austen's corpus. We should use more than ten children, in rotation,
so that we never seem to see the same one twice (with the exception
of her brother JAMES) . NB: the children never speak.
Catherine is on the crest of the slope. She sits up and stretches.
Rather guiltily she notices the dog-eared little book that slipped from
her lap as she dozed. It is called The Forbidden Chamber, and there
is a drawing of a storm-lashed castle on its cover. She stows her book
in its hiding place: a hollow in the base of a tree. Then, with a look
of pure pleasure, she readies herself to roll down the slope on to the
lawn. She rolls. We see the earth, the sky, the trees from her point
of view, tumbling, whirling.

3.
INT-DAY
An upstairs playroom. Catherine is having a solemn debate with
JAMES (fourteen). He sits at a desk; she lies on a half-collapsed sofa,
hugging a pillow. Two little boys are strenuously wrestling on the
floor between them.

CATHERINE
So if a man is poor . . .

JAMES
...then he must marry a rich lady.

CATHERINE
And if a man is rich ...

JAMES
Then he must marry a rich lady too.

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 Northanger Abbey

CATHERINE
Then who is to marry the poor ladies?

James frowns (he hasn't thought of this) .

CATHERINE
(cont'd, feelingly)
Oh, these poot; poor girls ...

4.
INT-DAY
Catherine's POV: a tight shot of MRS MORLAND's comfortable
figure, from behind. She is arranging flowers in the drawing room.

CATHERINE
Mama?

MRS MORLAND
(without turning)
Yes, my dear?

CATHERINE
Where do people come from?

A look of panic on Mrs Morland's face. She turns and we see her
in a broader shot. There are four or five children under the table
behind her. And she is at least nine months pregnant.

MRS MORLAND
But my dear ...

(smiling, floundering)
There aren't any people!

5.
EXT-DAY
From a variety of angles and elevations, we watch Catherine
running the short distance between her own house and that of

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Martin Amis

MR & MRS ALLEN. As she runs, propelled by her eager young

heart, she ages, she grows, she blooms.
A: She runs into her own front garden with a little stack of
books-already taller, gawkier.
B: She runs into the Allens' courtyard with two jars of jam­
slightly spotty, slightly sweaty.
C: She is running home, carrying a tennis racket and being chased
by two evil-looking brothers. By now she has become the ardent,
wide-eyed beauty whom we saw in Scene 1. Her parents are
watching her approach from their garden chairs.

MRS MORLAND
Catherine grows quite a good-looking girl. Why, she is almost
pretty.

The brothers are closing in and Catherine is heaving with laughter

and breathlessness.

MR MORLAND
Indeed. And her figure has more . . .

MRS MORLAND
More . ..

MR MORLAND
More ...

MRS MORLAND
More consequence.

MR MORLAND
Precisely, my dear. More consequence.

Catherine is viciously rugby-tackled by the brothers. As they roll

around, she gives as good as she gets. She is still a tomboy-but only
just.

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 Northanger Abbey

6.
INT-DAY
james's bedroom. He stands before the mirror, admiring his scholar's
gown. Oitherine is on her haunches, looking through a stack of books.
They barely notice the children that cannon in and out of the room.

CATHERINE
Well I hope you know how wretched you are making me.

JAMES
Oh, I do. You may assure yourself of that.

CATHERINE
Is there a ball every day at Oxford?

JAMES
Yes, every day. The May Ball, the S ummer Ball, the Michaelmas Ball.

CATHERINE
(standing)
I have reached the age of seventeen without having glimpsed one
amiable youth.

JAMES
Some young duke will move into the parish, ere long.

CATHERINE
(raptly quoting)
'Many a flower is born to blush unseen, I And waste its sweetness
on the desert air ... '

JAMES
(embracing her)
Come Catherine. You have your novels-your Pamela, your
Shame/a. And I shall write volumes by every post.

He turns: the brats have been at his dressing table and are now
fleeing the room. He hurries after them.

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JAMES
(OS)
Bring it back, George. Sally, don't you dare. Edmund!

Catherine remains. She folds her arms and looks away.

7.
INT-DAY
And now she is alone again, in the dining room. Behind her,
through the partly curtained windows, we can see a cart being loaded
up with baggage by James and a SERVANT. The cart is covered in
children.

MRS MORLAND
(OS)
Elizabeth, get out from under-Francis, no!

MR MORLAND
(OS)
Jane, put that back. Stay, Fitzwilliam! Charlotte: Off!

MRS MORLAND
(OS)
Har-ree . .
.

The voices fade.

Catherine is looking listlessly through a stack of solid, rectangular

table mats: scenes of Bath. Some are architectural, showing the
striking symmetries of the spa's design. Some are social: assemblies,
figures in formal dance.

The external noises resume; but the family is now dispersing.

James has gone.

MR MORLAND
(OS)
Cheer up, Liddy. Oh don't be an idiot, John.

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 Northanger Abbey

We study the vacant Catherine. Pause. And then she makes a

strangely modern face, expressing something beyond boredom:
inanity. Then she lifts her head and gives a courageous sniff.

8.
INT-EVENING
CU of a small white feather, rockabying slowly downwards
through the air. It lands on a surface of black crushed velvet.

MR ALLEN
(OS)
Feather.

The black velvet belongs to the large sock (the size of a pillowslip)
covering MR ALLEN's heavily bandaged right foot. Three brats
hover over it. One of them removes the feather and puts a pin in its
place; another is ready with a tiny button.

MR ALLEN
(eyes closed)
Pin. Ooh: button. Feather. Pin.

The Morland drawing room. All are present except Catherine.

MR & MRS ALLEN (middle-aged, childless) are the local

grandees. He is droll and obliging, and likes his port. She is empty­
headed, and always comically overdressed (with a succession of
outrageous hats) .

MR ALLEN
(OS)
Oof: button. Feather.

Mrs Allen and Mrs Morland sit erect at a small table. Mr

Morland stands before the fireplace.
Catherine enters discreetly. The book she carries has a home-made
cover of soft cardboard, adorned with garlands ·and crosses.
Meanwhile:

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Martin Amis

MRS ALLEN
It's Mr Allen's constitution, d'you see.

MR ALLEN
(waving the brats away)
The demon gout has stolen into Fullerton Court and seized me
by the ankle.

Catherine has seated herself a little apart. She opens her book with
furtive curiosity. On the cover she has written, in a f/.owery script,
Oughtred's Life of Bede, but it is clear from her f/.ushed throat, her
swelling eyes, that she isn't reading about the Church. The adults'
voices are muted, barely audible.

MR ALLEN
Jenkins is packing me off to Bath.

MRS ALLEN
(OS)
The waters, d'you see.

MR ALLEN
Now. Is Miss Morland 'out', madam? She looks 'out'.

Mr and Mrs Morland exchange glances.

And would you entrust her to us for a month or so?

All eyes on Catherine, who is reading with a hand raised to her

lips.

MR MORLAND
Do you not hear, Miss Morland? Or have you no taste for teases
and waltzes and handsome young men?

Catherine looks blank.

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 Northanger Abbey

MRS MORLAND
Catherine. You are to go to Bath.

She jumps to her feet and throws her hands in the air. The book
within the book-cover flies from her grasp. She looks with horror
at the empty shell of Oughtred's Life of Bede. SLOW-MOTION. A
series of aghast CU's as it becomes clear that the book within the
cover is destined to land on Mr Allen's foot. At the last instant, a
brat seizes the book in both hands. It is a penny dreadful, a (mild)
bodice-ripper entitled Leonora's Night of Shame; on the tatty cover
a long-necked beauty, dressed in black, is fleeing along castle
battlements . . . Again, all eyes on Catherine, who swoons.

9.
INT-NIGHT
Catherine's room. She is in bed, ready for sleep. Mrs Morland
stands with a lantern, silently counting Catherine's bags, packed for
the following day.

Mrs Morland sits on the bed looking anxious.

MRS MORLAND
Catherine ...

CATHERINE
(tiredly)
Yes, mother ...

MRS MORLAND
Now Catherine, dear.

CATHERINE
(suddenly interested)
Yes, mother?

MRS MORLAND
Bath is not without its dangers ... My dear, I should like you to
make me a promise.

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Martin Amis

CATHERINE
(alarmed)
Mama, what is it?

MRS MORLAND
I beg, Catherine, that when you come from the Rooms, at night,
you will always wrap yourself up very warm. About the throat.

CATHERINE
About the throat. Yes, Mama.

They kiss.

A while later. CU on Catherin e in the dark. She shuts her eyes.

We see a highwayman , with an eyepatch an d a pistol, rearing on a
black horse.
She open s her eyes. She shuts them. We see a ca"iage crashin g
sideways in to a flooded river.
She open s her eyes. She shuts them. We see her thrown over the
back of a horse, trussed an d gagged, an d ridden off to the sound of
wild male laughter. She open s her eyes.

10.
INT-DAY
The Allens' ca"iage.
Catherine's eyes: they are now glazed with perfect boredom. Mrs
Allen sits beside her, lookin g conten tedly vapid. Opposite, a MAID
sits staring in to space next to the dozin g Mr Allen , who has his leg
up in its sock.
Catherine's nostrils broaden as she suppresses a yawn. Mrs Allen
turn s to look past her out of the win dow. Now Mrs Allen 's
expression is taken over by sudden an d total te"or. She in hales
violen tly, wakin g her husban d an d causing everyone to start.

CATHERINE
Pray what is it?

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 Northanger Abbey

MRS ALLEN
I left my clogs at the inn!

MAID
(in urgent reassurance)
No, ma'am! They are stowed.

Mrs Allen flops back into her seat, as if after a major ordeal.
Catherine suppresses another yawn. Catherine looks at the maid, who
is staring at her and making what seems to be a very frightening face,
with much writhing of the mouth and nose. The maid duly sneezes.
Catherine collects herself. She looks out of the window; then she
smiles with anticipation and profound hopes, and slightly shivers.

11.
EXT-DAY
The architectural plan of Bath (glimpsed on the table mats in
Scene 7) is slowly transformed into the spa itself, from high above.
We start to descend, steadily gaining speed.

12.
EXT-DAY
Kaleidoscopic shots of crowded arcades, squares, crescents . . . from
Catherine's POV. A melee of traps and ca"iages, many opulent ladies
and fine gentlemen, but also flower-sellers, hawkers, delivery-men,
urchins, vagabonds, louts, tarts. . . Catherine struggles to keep up with
Mrs Allen, who is as determined as grim death, powering her way
down the street. She looks like Mary Queen of Scots as it is, and yet:

MRS ALLEN
How will we show ourselves tonight when we haven't a stitch to
wear?

13.
EXT-DAY
Mrs Allen stares lustfully in through the bay window of a
fashionable DRESSMAKER's SHOP and turns to Catherine with an
evil smile.

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Martin Amis

14.
INT DAY
A FITTING ROOM within. Sitting in a sea of unfurled silks and
linens, Mrs Allen gloats over a bolt of muslin. Catherine stands on
a shallow platform, being taped and pinned by a young female
assistant. Catherine looks stimulated, as always; but she seems
vulnerably young in her petticoat.

MRS ALLEN
Yes, but will it fray?

15.
EXT-DAY
A couple approach the dressmaker's shop, arm in arm: HENRY
and ELEANOR TILNEY.
Eleanor is twenty-three years old: elegant, assured, with an air of
intelligent melancholy.
Henry will only gradually come to resemble a romantic hero. He
is not tall and his face is no more that averagely pleasant. His
strength lies in a combination not found elsewhere in Jane Austens
males: a combination of integrity and wit.
They make to enter. Henry, who has his fob watch out, will see
Eleanor in, but he doesn't mean to stay.

HENRY
Sister. Do not be many hours ...

16.
INT-DAY
Within, the Tilneys survey the scene: fine ladies pollinate the bolts
and racks. They move further in and pause. Henry has his back to
the curtain that shields Catherine and Mrs Allen.
The Tilneys exchange smiles of intimate warmth as Henry speaks.
They have had this argument before.

HENRY
A woman dresses only for herself. No man will admire her the
more . ..

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 Northanger Abbey

Catherine, behind her screen, half-listens to these words.

HENRY
(cont'd)
No woman will like her the better for it. Neatness and shape are
enough for the former; something of shabbiness or vulgarity will be
most endearing to the latter-

Inside the fitting room. Mrs Allen's face is again filling with horror.

MRS ALLEN
My gloves!

She lurches through the curtain, leaving it half-drawn. Henry turns

(Eleanor does not) .
Catherine is not so underdressed that she feels the need to cover
herself with her arms, but her vulnerability is clear; it is an unsettling
moment-no more than that.
Henry drops his gaze in a hesitant bow.
Mrs Allen, gripping her gloves, interposes herself and indignantly
yanks the curtain shut.

ELEANOR
(heading off)
I know how little the heart of man is moved by the texture of our
muslin.

HENRY
(following)
...no, sister, you cannot be made to understand it. I could ...

The voice fades. Catherine, still a little startled, gives a fadal shrug.

17.
INT-EVENING
The sitting room at the Allens' lodgings.
Mr Allen is alone. He puts down his book and his glass and limps
to the foot of the staircase.

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Martin Amis

MR ALLEN
Do you suppose we will leave before dawn?

18.
INT-EVENING
Mrs Allen's face in the mirror, under an omelette of make-up. A
maid is finalizing her hair. Catherine paces in the background.

MR ALLEN
(OS)
Or do you require a further se'ennight?

MRS ALLEN
(in a fierce whisper)
Oh Mr Allen.

The maid is about to position Mrs Allen's hat. It is the shape (and
apparently the weight) of an inverted bidet.

MRS ALLEN
Yarely now, Susan. Yarely.

19.
INT-NIGHT
The Assembly Rooms and a punishing collage of discomfort and
boredom.
Mrs Allen and Catherine squirm through a press of finery into
the Ballroom. They can see nothing but the high feathers of the lady
dancers. They find a cramped bench. Their view of the floor is largely
obscured by a Doric pillar.

MRS ALLEN
I wish you could get a partner, my dear. Would we had a larger
acquaintance in Bath. Last year the Skinners were here.

Henry Tilney moves past behind them. He sees Catherine, in

quarter-profile, and moves on.

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 Northanger Abbey

They squirm into the Tea Room. They find chairs, but there are
no cups and saucers.

MRS ALLEN
How disagreeable to have no acquaintance.

CATHERINE
Had we better not move on? There are no tea things here.

MRS ALLEN
No more there are, indeed. How provoking! What an odd gown
that woman has got on. How old-fashioned it is. Look at the back.
Last year, of course, the Skinners were here...

Henry, sitting with his back to them, has been listening. He gives
a smile of sy mpathy. They squirm into the Lower Rooms. Mrs Allen
guards her dress against the thick crowd around the dance ffoor.

MRS ALLEN
Methought I saw Lydia Skinner by the door. I was mistaken
however. Same hat. Well, my dear, you shall have no want of
company in Bath.

CATHERINE
...Whose?

MRS ALLEN
Mine.

Catherine is feeling the likelihood of this. But now, the blue-sashed

MASTER OF CEREMONIES appears, bows and reads from a
scrolled sheet.

MASTER OF CEREMONIES
Mrs Allen, Miss Morland: may I present Mr Henry Tilney?

The Master of Ceremonies steps aside, fully revealing Henry, who

bows to each in turn. Catherine fears she will blush, but his

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Martin Amis

expression is so sensible, so reassuring-so protective.

In the novel Henry is twenty-five. Our Henry should be nearer
thirty, so that he doesn't immediately consider Catherine his peer. The
journey of his affection is from cordial protectiveness to passionate,
all-consuming protectiveness, as Catherine goes further and further
astray. Similarly she is pleased with his attention-but not yet
stirred. He holds out a hand to her.

HENRY
Would you do me the honour, Miss Morland?

They join the dance: formal, correct. Henry's banter is charming

but unflirtatious (with a little eye contact, and no stray hands) . At
first he assumes a set smile and a simpering air.

HENRY
Pray, satisfy me in these particulars. Have you been long in Bath,
madam?

CATHERINE
We are but newly come, sir.

HENRY
(feigning astonishment)
Really!

Catherine is amused, but she is unused to such spirited banter.

CATHERINE
Why should you be surprised, sir?

HENRY
(in his na tura l tone)
W hy indeed? But some emotion must greet your reply, and
surprise is more easily assumed, and no less unreasonable, than any
other. Now let us go on. Were you never here before, madam?

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 Northanger Abbey

CATHERINE
Never in my life, sir.

HENRY
Quite astonishing. It scarcely credits belief. And does Bath
altogether enchant you?

CATHERINE
I like it very well.

HENRY
Now I must give one more smirk, and then we may be rational
agam.

His smile encourages her, and she laughs, childishly, with a hand
raised over her nose.
Mrs Allen is watching them idly, fiddling with her sleeve. Now
Mr Allen looms over her and bends, with his eye on the dancers, to
say some words into her ear. She gives a satisfied cluck.

HENRY
I fear I shall cut but a sorry figure in your journal.

CATHERINE
My journal! But perhaps I keep no journal.

HENRY
Perhaps you are not dancing in this room. This is a point in which
a doubt is equally possible. Not keep a journal? My dear madam, I
am hardly so ignorant of young ladies' ways as you wish to believe
me.

CATHERINE
And if I do keep a journal, what would I say?

HENRY
'Wore my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings, plain black
shoes; appeared to much advantage; but was strangely harassed by

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Martin Amis

an elderly fool, who would make me dance with him and distressed
me with his vulgar rot.'

CATHERINE
Indeed I shall say no such thing.

HENRY
(leading her from the 'floor)
I am happy to hear it. For now we shall soon be acquainted, as
I am authorized to tease you on this subject whenever we meet.

MRS ALLEN
Catherine! ... My dear, do take this pin out. I fear it has already
gashed my sleeve. I shall be quite sorry, though the gown cost but
nine shillings a yard.

Catherine attends to the sleeve.

HENRY
A prodigious bargain, madam, at nine shillings a yard.

MRS ALLEN
Do you understand muslins, sir?

HENRY
Particularly well. 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.

Catherine listens, pausing, as she tries to free the pin. She feels
there is something disrespectful in Henry's ironical tone; but she is
actually being intimidated by the irony, the brightness, the flow.

MRS ALLEN
I can never get Mr Allen to know one of my gowns from the
other. You must be a great comfort to your sister, sir.

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 Northanger Abbey

HENRY
I believe I am, madam.

MRS ALLEN
And what do you say to Miss Morland's gown?

Catherine frees the pin.

CATHERINE
There.

HENRY
(gravely)
It is very pretty, madam.

Catherine is half-distracted by a hush in the room, which is

thinning out (the hour is late) .

HENRY
(cont'd)
I fear for its delicacy...

CATHERINE
How can you be so-?

Austen writes: 'she had almost said "strange", ' Catherine mouths
it: 'strange'.

But now the cause of the hush is revealed: the imposing figure of
JOHN THORPE is touring the room. Thorpe, in appearance at
least, is all romantic hero: high, wide, handsome, but also artistic,
his long hair dishevelled, his eyes bright with a glint of wildness.
With a succession of thoughts and emotions, Henry watches
Catherine as her jaw starts to drop. Well, he is thinking, she is
seventeen. Then he frowns, inspecting himself for a pang of jealousy;
he dismisses this, and his expression becomes wry and resigned.
Still referring to Catherine's gown, and still nominally addressing
Mrs Allen, Henry continues (and Catherine half-listens) .

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Martin Amis

HENRY
So delicate-I fear it will not withstand a full season at Bath...

MRS ALLEN
I am quite of your opinion, sir, and so I told Miss Morland when
she bought it.

Thorpe recedes from view, and Catherine 'returns'. She glances

at Henry, colours, smiles. As Mrs Allen rattles on, Henry, with a
minute roll of the eyes, smiles back. The scene starts to fade. D

74
 GRANTA

GRANTA 87, FALL 2004

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