Mansfield Park, ch. 7: Sharing Kindness, It's An Easy Feat

Mary "Sorry Not Sorry" Crawford

So I actually tend to avoid this chapter when I'm re-reading Mansfield Park on my own, because Fanny experiences her first pangs of longing and rejection and it's so hard to read it. Plenty of Jane Austen fans have different opinions about who Fanny ought to have ended up with, but I think Austen does an excellent job of portraying the long-suffering crush Fanny has on Edmund.

On a separate note, I've decided to embrace the "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic" parallel.

The chapter begins kind of awkwardly, at least in terms of modern narratives, I think. Edmund prompts Fanny to admit that she found Mary Crawford’s criticism of her uncle improper. Fanny goes further, saying that it seems to be an “ungrateful” sentiment. Edmund doesn’t go that far, though—he simply thinks that it’s wrong for Mary to air out her family’s dirty laundry in public. It’s obvious to him that Mary is biased against her uncle on behalf of her aunt. Fanny adds that maybe her aunt’s dubious parenting skills (she spoiled Mary, as the Admiral spoiled Henry) resulted in Mary’s “impropriety,” to which Edmund agrees.

To a modern reader, this might just look like gossip, but there's a lot going on here. First, Edmund is treating Fanny less like a student and more like an equal, listening to her perspective on the subject. Second, he puts himself in a position to defend, albeit lightly, Mary’s point of view and to point out her good qualities (he hopes the gentle Mrs. Grant will be a better influence). This definitely shows his evolving feelings towards Mary, as he will continue to defend and make excuses for Mary’s crude asides. Thirdly, this conversation feeds into the underlying theme of mismatched couples: the Admiral and Mrs. Crawford, reading between the lines, had a rocky marriage. Lastly, this kind of hyper-awareness and discussion of others’ behavior is present throughout all of Austen’s works. Not only does it give the story a way to discuss its characters, but it also reflects how intensely people were scrutinized back in Austen’s day.

But Edmund puts this scrutinization aside as he starts to visit Mary Crawford more often. The narrator cheekily points out that “[a] young woman, pretty, lively, with a harp as elegant as herself, and both placed near a window, cut down to the ground, and opening on a little lawn, surrounded by shrubs in the rich foliage of summer, was enough to catch any man’s heart.” And Edmund is the lucky man. Mary reluctantly admits that “there was a charm, perhaps, in his sincerity, his steadiness, his integrity,” but he’s just a bit too boring and not enough of an heir to his father’s fortune for her tastes.

The Bertrams and the Crawfords continue to mingle: Edmund walks Mrs. Grant and Mary home during the evenings while Henry Crawford continues to charm the Bertram sisters. Fanny, missing Edmund’s company and hyper-aware of Mary’s missteps, which she continues to make, considers this trade-off to be “a very bad exchange.” And when Mary decides she wants to be a horsewoman, things get worse. Edmund offers her use of his mare, though not before asking Fanny if it’s okay with her—Fanny is so flattered with this attention that she is “overpowered with gratitude.”

The first riding session goes well, and the mare is returned in time for Fanny to ride. The second session goes even better for Mary—so much better that she is hours late in returning the mare. As Fanny waits, she walks around to look for the riding party, and then “in Dr. Grant’s meadow she immediately saw the group—Edmund and Miss Crawford both on horse–back, riding side by side.” Even worse? “Edmund was close to [Mary]; he was speaking to her; he was evidently directing her management of the bridle; he had hold of her hand; she saw it, or the imagination supplied what the eye could not reach.”

My heart, you guys.

Fanny doesn’t know why Henry Crawford isn’t the one attending his sister, jumping to the conclusion that “Mr. Crawford, with all his boasted good–nature, and all his coachmanship, probably knew nothing of the matter, and had no active kindness in comparison of Edmund.” The sheer naivete here is hilarious and a little pathetic, but also adds to Fanny’s perception of the Crawford siblings. Over the course of this chapter, she finds many faults in Henry Crawford as a brother: to her, he appears to be lazy and selfish. This is primarily because Fanny has a great brother to compare him with: William, who writes her long letters and regularly opens up to her. On the other hand, Fanny’s prejudice doesn’t quite lead her astray when it comes to Henry’s real motivations.

Anyway, when Fanny finally catches up with the party, Mary jumps off Fluttershy (my non-canonical name for the mare) and acknowledges her tardiness with, “[Y]ou must forgive me. Selfishness must always be forgiven, you know, because there is no hope of a cure.” Oh. That’s not revealing at all.

Everyone at Mansfield raves about Mary’s performance as a horsewoman. Even the coachman the Bertrams employ says to Fanny, “She did not seem to have a thought of fear. Very different from you, miss, when you first began, six years ago.” Funny how it doesn’t occur to him that Fanny was eleven back then, and Mary’s a decade older than that now … the disparity in age might have something to do with Mary being less afraid of horse-riding.

When Edmund asks Fanny that evening if she plans to go out the next day to ride Fluttershy. Because she walked so much to find them earlier that day, she’s too tired for riding. Edmund, although recognizing that Mary “rides only for her pleasure; you [Fanny] for your health,” is obviously delighted at this. Now repeat for four days straight. Fanny has been relegated to staying indoors … or has she?

On the eve of the fourth day, Edmund and Julia are invited to dinner at the Grants’ house. Maria has to stay at home because she’s waiting for her fiance, who doesn’t even show up, so she pouts the whole evening. Edmund and Julia arrive home, feeling great after spending an evening with their prospective courtship partners, when Edmund eventually realizes that Fanny isn’t around. She emerges from the other end of the living room, receiving a scolding from Mrs. Norris for her “very foolish trick” of hiding from a group of people who’d forgotten about her until then. “You should learn to think of other people; and, take my word for it, it is a shocking trick for a young person to be always lolling upon a sofa,” she harrumphs.

Here is where we get to see a little bit of Julia, who so far has only played second fiddle to her older sister. Still in a good mood, she observes that “Fanny is as little upon the sofa as anybody in the house.” The more I re-read Mansfield Park, the more this passage sticks out to me: Julia isn’t going full Edmund in terms of emotional support, but she is aware that Mrs. Norris misrepresents Fanny here. We will see later that Julia’s generosity, such as it is, is closely linked to how she has recently been treated by those around her. Coming home from a dinner where she was the center of attention and not in Maria’s shadow, she’s more cheerful than ever before.

Edmund quickly deduces that Fanny has a bad headache, and discovers that it's due to her aunts sending her on errands all day in the heat of summer. He angrily asks why a servant wasn’t dispatched instead on these errands—a fair question that Mrs. Norris dodges by putting on a woe-is-me act. Barf. But what’s even worse is that she rightly points out that Fanny hasn’t been keeping up on her exercises (riding Fluttershy builds up her stamina). Edmund realizes that “without any choice of companions or exercise,” Fanny has been vulnerable to her aunts’ whims. He decides that he can’t keep letting Mary Crawford ride Fluttershy, especially if it means that he’s the only one who bothers to consider Fanny’s needs.

Fanny’s private feelings are … complicated. She’s silently crying as she downs some medicine and goes up to her room. Although grateful for Edmund’s “kindness,” she has been “struggling against discontent and envy” for half a week now. And she’s too tired, mentally, emotionally, and physically, to sort all this out.

But that’s why I’m here.

I posit that given how humble she is, it goes against her philosophy to be envious and unhappy. She believes that she has no claims on Edmund’s time or support (let alone his heart), that he gives her those things because he wants to, and yet when she feels “neglected,” it must be because she’s come to expect them from him. But because of her delicate position in the Bertram household, she must not take anything for granted. Otherwise, she cannot be authentically grateful. And if she cannot be grateful, then what role can she play at Mansfield Park?

Oh, Fanny. Growing up is hard to do.

Soon to come: the Bertrams make convoluted travel plans, Maria makes her fiance ask her crush to come see the house she’ll be living in after her marriage, and Edmund does Fanny another solid.