Mansfield Park, ch. 8: And We're Off
Fanny is out riding Fluttershy (say goodbye to that running gag, btw) when Mr. Rushworth arrives at Mansfield. Everyone's still on for the trip to Sotherton, and Maria all but pushes her fiance back out the door in order to personally invite Henry Crawford.
In case you're wondering, Mr. Rushworth has no idea that Maria has it bad for Henry. He’s very much presented as being the kind of person who has a little sign that says “Vacancy” where his brain should be.
Anyway, Mr. Rushworth’s mother wants to invite Lady Bertram to come on the trip, but Lady Bertram is too much of a homebody. Mrs. Rushworth is “a well–meaning, civil, prosing, pompous woman, who thought nothing of consequence, but as it related to her own and her son’s concerns,” which actually means she has more dimension than her son. Mrs. Norris, professional suck-up, is Mrs. Rushworth’s new BFF. She makes excuses for Lady Bertram, dismisses Fanny, and claims that Edmund will be part of the party. Soon, Mary Crawford receives an invitation to come as well. But now, they need to figure out how they’re all actually going to get there.
A barouche box for your visualization needs |
Then Edmund surprises everyone by saying that Fanny will ride with them, while he will stay at home to be with his mother.
Mrs. Norris puts on her grumpy face and protests that she already told Mrs. Rushworth that Fanny would stay home, and “that any alteration [in the plan] must be for the worse.” The narrator confirms that “Mrs. Norris had no affection for Fanny, and no wish of procuring her pleasure at any time; but her opposition to Edmund now, arose more from partiality for her own scheme, because it was her own, than from anything else.” So not only is Mrs. Norris happy to squelch any plan that involves making Fanny happy, but she’s also territorial about her own plans. This character beat often pops up when Fanny is directly included.
Another reaction to Edmund’s declaration: “‘I am sure [Fanny] ought to be very much obliged to you,’ added Julia, hastily leaving the room as she spoke, from a consciousness that she ought to offer to stay at home herself.” Wowza. Remember what I said last chapter? Here’s another character beat to watch for.
Even Fanny, who is happy to be able to go, is sad that Edmund won’t be with them. But soon the issue is resolved: Mrs. Grant offers to take Edmund’s place as Lady Bertram’s companion, so he gets to go after all. And then Mrs. Grant plays matchmaker, to Julia’s delight, by suggesting that she sit next to Henry as he drives the barouche. And she. Is. Pumped.
Maria is super bummed. She’s sitting in a position that all but forces her to look at Julia and Henry, and Julia is clearly having the time of her life. In later chapters, however, Henry will offer a different perspective on the time he spends with Julia.
No one is interested in being social during the ride. Fanny is sitting next to Mary Crawford. Both of them are watching Edmund’s progress on horseback, but that’s the only thing they have in common. We’re informed that Mary “had none of Fanny’s delicacy of taste, of mind, of feeling; she saw Nature, inanimate Nature, with little observation; her attention was all for men and women, her talents for the light and lively.” Why Mary makes no attempt to apply her sparkling wit while in the barouche is not hard to explain, however. She’s stuck with a shrinking violet, a jealous attention-hog in a bad mood, and a busybody who only likes the sound of her own voice. So I’m inclined to cut Mary some slack—her “talent” would be wasted on these women (Fanny has told Edmund that she finds Mary entertaining, but Mary seems unaware of this). I’ll only add that Austen has, in other novels, made the argument that engaging in the social nicety of everyday conversation is a mark of good breeding. Edmund himself demonstrated this a couple chapters ago.*
Fanny, meanwhile, is nerding out over “the appearance of the country, the bearings of the roads, the difference of soil, the state of the harvest, the cottages, the cattle, the children” the barouche passes on the way. After all, “[h]er own thoughts and reflections were habitually her best companions” after years of casual neglect and isolation. Again, I’m cutting her some slack. Some readers find Fanny snobbish and prudish due to her tendency to keep to herself—which, first of all, more snobbish than Maria and Julia? Please. But more importantly, this is the first time that she’s been away from Mansfield. This keen, even obsessive observation of new surroundings makes perfect sense. And why would she try to make conversation when she’s convinced that it would be the height of rudeness to be the first to talk?
The silence evaporates once they approach Sotherton territory; Maria, though plagued with “Rushworth feelings and Crawford feelings,” is filled with pride as she informs everyone just how much land and forest belongs to the Sotherton estate. She points out where the steward lives and remarks on the icky-looking village. Interestingly, she’s relieved that the church was built far away from the Sotherton mansion—“The annoyance of the bells must be terrible,” she sniffs. I’m sure this little aside couldn’t possibly having anything to do with her impending marriage.
Stoneleigh Abbey, Austen's inspiration for Sotherton |
Next time: lifestyles of the rich and English, Henry Crawford toys with Maria like a kitten with a ball of yarn, and Edmund manages to shock Mary.
*Contrast this behavior with Mr. Darcy, who, in the beginning of Pride and Prejudice, considers himself to be above this social obligation. The heroine, Elizabeth Bennett, advises him that he should make it a point to practice engaging in conversation. Edmund has already learned to observe these social niceties.
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