Mansfield Park, ch. 11: Preaching to the Soloist

Credit to Alexandru Savescu for this intense portrayal of Fanny Price
struggling with her heart

This week's chapter prioritizes character and theme development over plot, but it’s shorter as well.

You guys, wasn’t the day at Sotherton just the best day ever? Wasn’t that delightful Henry Crawford an absolute blast? And it’s so obvious who he likes the most. Gosh, too bad Dad’s coming home in three months—better make the most of it before he arrives!

Yeesh.

The news that Sir Thomas will be home in the fall isn’t the biggest buzzkill in the world, but Mary C. is definitely a little out of sorts once she hears the news. Why’s that? Because her new crush Edmund will take orders once his father arrives home, and clergymen are, like, so gross and poor. At a low-key party at Mansfield, while her brother is entertaining the two gorgeous sisters, Mary begins to tease Edmund: Maybe he only chose to take orders because he was safe in the knowledge that his dad owns a living. Nudge-nudge.

Fanny is like, no way would my pure sweet cinnamon roll ever be influenced by the circumstances of his wealth and position!

To his great credit, Edmund is like, actually, it probably did influence me a good deal. But he spins it as working out for him because he wasn’t influenced by the prospect of wealth or convenience. Rather, he liked the idea of being a clergyman and trusted that his father would basically be his Jiminy Cricket. This is the first time that Sir Thomas’s parenting skills are shown in a positive light. That it comes from Edmund is less surprising. (We haven’t gotten into what really makes Sir Thomas tick because Austen doesn’t bring him back until act two.)

Fanny compares Edmund following Sir Thomas’s guidance to a son following his father into the army or the navy—into “the line [of work] where their friends can serve them best.” Mary points out that being a clergyman isn’t as glamorous as being a soldier or a sailor (this perception is still true today, come to think of it) and is therefore not worthwhile. Her points are that taking orders is boring, doesn’t pay well, and in fact churns out lazy clergymen who don’t make a difference. Edmund observes that she is repeating stories that her uncle has spewed and basing her experience on Dr. Grant, the only clergyman she has ever known personally. And Dr. Grant is, like, such a pain.

Here’s where Fanny swoops in again. First, she suggests that Dr. Grant’s “temper” would have affected him regardless of the line of work he chose (he could’ve been a grumpy attorney instead). Then, she posits that Dr. Grant cannot “preach such very good sermons in so good a manner as he does, without being the better for it himself.” She advocates for the capacity for self-reflection in the grumpy goose-eater, and indeed in anyone.

This theme of self-reflection and self-knowledge has been touched on a handful of times. These are themes that run through every Austen novel, where Austen usually gives her heroines a second chance to do the right thing once they discover something about who they are. Almost all of the characters in Mansfield Park lack this self-knowledge, which leads to major moral and emotional damage. Fanny is the exception, which is why I think a lot of readers don’t like her. She has, in fact, worked hard on developing her inner guidance as she was growing up, alone (except for Edmund) and emotionally abused. Her rock-solid core—which many readers mistake for unrelenting priggishness—is a defense mechanism she developed in order to cope with her isolation. You can argue that Austen failed to write this development in an engaging way, or that Fanny can be both strong-willed and a prig at the same time. But if you do, get ready for some counterarguments coming your way.

Anyway, Mary responds by twisting Fanny’s original argument into meaning that “a man’s amiableness depends on his own sermons” and joking that she hopes Fanny doesn’t have to marry a guy like that. Edmund throws in a compliment about Fanny’s good temper (this is the first time we see him outright adoring her, although he still regards their relationship as more sibling-ish). Mary remarks that Fanny is “more used to deserve praise than to hear it,” which is … accurate. Maybe more accurate than Mary knows.

Maria and Julia call Mary to the piano for a sing-along (look, they were hard up for entertainment back then, okay?) and Edmund sighs, “There goes a temper which would never give pain!”

A small list of things Mary has said in the past:

• “[Marriage] is a manœuvering business.”
• “Selfishness must always be forgiven, you know, because there is no hope of a cure.”
• “A clergyman is nothing."
• “It is indolence … and love of ease—a want of all laudable ambition, of taste for good company, or of inclination to take the trouble of being agreeable, which makes men clergymen.”

None of these are stated with malicious intent. Mary Crawford is not evil. But she is a hardened cynic, and cynics often don’t care whether or not they offend others. The last two quotes are addressed directly to Edmund and are verbal assaults on his chosen profession, but he doesn’t see them as such. Instead, he’s so blinded by his attraction to Mary that he assumes she is challenging him—that the underlying subtext to her insults is that she wants to be convinced otherwise.* That’s the only way I can interpret his reaction here.

Pictured: Fanny Price's heart breaking

Moreover, I point to his relatively calm and peaceful conversation with Fanny as further evidence that he wants, in some way, to be challenged. Fanny is taken with their view of the starry night, stating that art and music (hmm, wonder what put that in her mind?) cannot compare to “the sublimity of Nature.” As with the ride to Sotherton, the outdoors serves as inspiration for her romantic side. But after the spirited back-and-forth he had with Mary, Fanny’s enthusiasm doesn’t hold his attention for long. Instead of suggesting they both go stargaze out on the lawn, he leaves her at the window to beg for an encore from Mary and his sisters. Fanny is filled with “mortification” at seeing his attraction to Mary literally pull him away from her.

Soon to come: Tom Bertram returns, Mrs. Norris ships Julia and Henry, and Fanny’s first ball is a bore.

*This misreading of someone’s motivations crops up everywhere in Jane Austen novels, but this specifically reminds me of Pride and Prejudice, where Mr. Darcy mistakes Elizabeth Bennet’s argumentative streak as a sign that she’s into him, and not as a sign that she genuinely finds him disagreeable (which she does).