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Northanger Abbey [Anglais] [Poche]

Jane Austen
3.8 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (5 commentaires client)
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Extrait

Chapter One


No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her born to be an heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her. Her father was a clergyman, without being neglected, or poor, and a very respectable man, though his name was Richard—and he had never been handsome. He had a considerable independence, besides two good livings—and he was not in the least addicted to locking up his daughters. Her mother was a woman of useful plain sense, with a good temper, and, what is more remarkable, with a good constitution. She had three sons before Catherine was born; and instead of dying in bringing the latter into the world, as any body might expect, she still lived on—lived to have six children more—to see them growing up around her, and to enjoy excellent health herself. A family of ten children will be always called a fine family, where there are heads and arms and legs enough for the number; but the Morlands had little other right to the word, for they were in general very plain, and Catherine, for many years of her life, as plain as any. She had a thin awkward figure, a sallow skin without colour, dark lank hair, and strong features;—so much for her person;—and not less unpropitious for heroism seemed her mind. She was fond of all boys’ plays, and greatly preferred cricket not merely to dolls, but to the more heroic enjoyments of infancy, nursing a dormouse, feeding a canary-bird, or watering a rose-bush. Indeed she had no taste for a garden; and if she gathered flowers at all, it was chiefly for the pleasure of mischief—at least so it was conjectured from her always preferring those which she was forbidden to take.—Such were her propensities—her abilities were quite as extraordinary. She never could learn or understand any thing before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, for she was often inattentive, and occasionally stupid. Her mother was three months in teaching her only to repeat the “Beggar’s Petition;” and after all, her next sister, Sally, could say it better than she did. Not that Catherine was always stupid,—by no means; she learnt the fable of “The Hare and many Friends,” as quickly as any girl in England. Her mother wished her to learn music; and Catherine was sure she should like it, for she was very fond of tinkling the keys of the old forlorn spinnet; so, at eight years old she began. She learnt a year, and could not bear it;—and Mrs. Morland, who did not insist on her daughters being accomplished in spite of incapacity or distaste, allowed her to leave off. The day which dismissed the music-master was one of the happiest of Catherine’s life. Her taste for drawing was not superior; though whenever she could obtain the outside of a letter from her mother, or seize upon any other odd piece of paper, she did what she could in that way, by drawing houses and trees, hens and chickens, all very much like one another.—Writing and accounts she was taught by her father; French by her mother: her proficiency in either was not remarkable, and she shirked her lessons in both whenever she could. What a strange, unaccountable character!—for with all these symptoms of profligacy at ten years old, she had neither a bad heart nor a bad temper; was seldom stubborn, scarcely ever quarrelsome, and very kind to the little ones, with few interruptions of tyranny; she was moreover noisy and wild, hated confinement and cleanliness, and loved nothing so well in the world as rolling down the green slope at the back of the house.

Such was Catherine Morland at ten. At fifteen, appearances were mending; she began to curl her hair and long for balls; her complexion improved, her features were softened by plumpness and colour, her eyes gained more animation, and her figure more consequence. Her love of dirt gave way to an inclination for finery, and she grew clean as she grew smart; she had now the pleasure of sometimes hearing her father and mother remark on her personal improvement. “Catherine grows quite a good-looking girl,—she is almost pretty to day,” were words which caught her ears now and then; and how welcome were the sounds! To look almost pretty, is an acquisition of higher delight to a girl who has been looking plain the first fifteen years of her life, than a beauty from her cradle can ever receive.

Mrs. Morland was a very good woman, and wished to see her children every thing they ought to be; but her time was so much occupied in lying-in and teaching the little ones, that her elder daughters were inevitably left to shift for themselves; and it was not very wonderful that Catherine, who had by nature nothing heroic about her, should prefer cricket, base ball, riding on horseback, and running about the country at the age of fourteen, to books—or at least books of information—for, provided that nothing like useful knowledge could be gained from them, provided they were all story and no reflection, she had never any objection to books at all. But from fifteen to seventeen she was in training for a heroine; she read all such works as heroines must read to supply their memories with those quotations which are so serviceable and so soothing in the vicissitudes of their eventful lives.

From Pope, she learnt to censure those who

“bear about the mockery of woe.”

From Gray, that

“Many a flower is born to blush unseen, “And waste its fragrance on the desert air.”

From Thompson, that

——“It is a delightful task “To teach the young idea how to shoot.”

And from Shakspeare she gained a great store of information—amongst the rest, that

———“Trifles light as air, “Are, to the jealous, confirmation strong, “As proofs of Holy Writ.”

That “The poor beetle, which we tread upon, “In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great “As when a giant dies.”

And that a young woman in love always looks ——“like Patience on a monument “Smiling at Grief.”

So far her improvement was sufficient—and in many other points she came on exceedingly well; for though she could not write sonnets, she brought herself to read them; and though there seemed no chance of her throwing a whole party into raptures by a prelude on the pianoforte, of her own composition, she could listen to other people’s performance with very little fatigue. Her greatest deficiency was in the pencil—she had no notion of drawing—not enough even to attempt a sketch of her lover’s profile, that she might be detected in the design. There she fell miserably short of the true heroic height. At present she did not know her own poverty, for she had no lover to pourtray. She had reached the age of seventeen, without having seen one amiable youth who could call forth her sensibility; without having excited one real passion, and without having excited even any admiration but what was very moderate and very transient. This was strange indeed! But strange things may be generally accounted for if their cause be fairly searched out. There was not one lord in the neighbourhood; no—not even a baronet. There was not one family among their acquaintance who had reared and supported a boy accidentally found at their door—not one young man whose origin was unknown. Her father had no ward, and the squire of the parish no children.

But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.

Mr. Allen, who owned the chief of the property about Fuller- ton, the village in Wiltshire where the Morlands lived, was ordered to Bath for the benefit of a gouty constitution;—and his lady, a good- humoured woman, fond of Miss Morland, and probably aware that if adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad, invited her to go with them. Mr. and Mrs. Morland were all compliance, and Catherine all happiness.

Revue de presse

“Jane Austen is the Rosetta stone of literature.” —Anna Quindlen

Détails sur le produit

  • Poche: 240 pages
  • Editeur : Bantam Classics; Édition : Reissue (1 septembre 1985)
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ISBN-10: 0553211978
  • ISBN-13: 978-0553211979
  • Dimensions du produit: 1,8 x 10,5 x 17,2 cm
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 3.8 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (5 commentaires client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: 41.033 en Livres anglais et étrangers (Voir les 100 premiers en Livres anglais et étrangers)
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3.8 étoiles sur 5
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 un monde anglais très étrange 28 septembre 2013
Par kikimoka
Format:Broché|Achat vérifié
le monde de Jane Austin est véritablement étrange pour les "modernes" que nous sommes. le bouquin est génial , avec des apartés de l'auteur qui en profite pour régler ses comptes avec ses éditeurs de l'époque! c'est à la fois philosophique et tendre. avec émotion ... le lire en anglais est un régal!
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 Merci Amazon 27 septembre 2013
Par CeeCeeB
Format:Relié|Achat vérifié
J'ai acheté presque toute la série de Flipbacks de Jane Austen sur Amazon.
Ces petits livres sont magnifiques, tiennent facilement dans une poche ou dans un sac à main.
L'orientation de lecture est inédite et agréable. Les couvertures sont très jolies et décoratives dans une bibliothèque.
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3.0 étoiles sur 5 northanger abbey en français 26 avril 2012
Format:Format Kindle
dommage que ce roman n'existe pas en français pour mon kindle!!! si vous l'avez trouvé en français faites le moi savoir svpl
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 Jane Austen. 4 août 2011
Par Odile
Format:Broché
Bon etat du produit. Livraison rapide. Lecture agréable malgré une fin décevante. Je recommande l'adaptation cinématographique. Autres roman que je recommanderai de Jane, Emma. Bonne Lecture !
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0 internautes sur 2 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
1.0 étoiles sur 5 manque d'info dans la description du produit! 20 novembre 2012
Par noemi
Format:Poche|Achat vérifié
J'ai acheté ce livre en pensant qu'il était en français (vu que le titre est un nom de lieu ça ne m'a pas paru anormal qu'il soit en anglais), et il était en anglais.
Je ne m'estime pas plus idiote qu'une autre, et j'ai pas mal surfé pour faire mon choix entre plusieurs bouquins sur le site, alors comment se fait-il que je n'ai jamais remarqué que le livre était en anglais?
soit ce n'était pas indiqué du tout, soit cela n'était pas du tout en évidence!
Alors d'accord, il n'était pas cher, mais j'estime tout de même avoir été abusée sur cet achat. Je ne l'ai pas renvoyé uniquement parce que les frais de port m'aurait coûté plus cher que le bouquin!
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