Mansfield Park, ch. 18: Just Act Natural
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| Credit to Angela Hadrill for this awesome portrayal of the Bertram Players. She even included Sir Thomas up above. |
All is not well in the state of Mansfield (at first). Edmund’s disappointment in his brother continues unabated: not only does Tom hire a painter from London (adding to the overall expense of this theater “project”), but he’s issuing invitations to all the neighboring families to come see the play. Meaning that this private performance will be made public. By kowtowing to Tom (and Mary’s desires), Ed has essentially nullified any influence he might have had otherwise. Hello, other shoe #1.
Everyone also has plenty of complaints about the acting prowess, or lack thereof, of their fellow cast mates (wow, who’d-a thunk a bunch of untrained pampered brats would be bad at acting?). Fanny is again the silent witness to everything, including Maria’s studied avoidance of Rushworth and her and Henry’s insistence on rehearsing together again and again. In the scene being referenced here, the characters of Frederick and Agatha are called upon to hug, embrace, or lean on each other no less than five times. Maria, an engaged gentlewoman, is acting out the very intimacy she desires from Henry … and she’s doing it within the view of her fiance. Oh, yeah, and Rushworth’s pretty pissed about it (yikes x 100). Because everyone else ignores him, Fanny is stuck running lines with him. He’s so terrible at it that she learns the part better than he does, and that’s on top of her getting the brunt of Rushworth in a bad mood (although she understands what’s put him in that mood). As a silly fangirl aside, I’d love to see the fanfic where Rushworth and Fanny end up bonding through their shared dislike of Henry Crawford and being unlucky in love.
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| Credit to Janelle Carbajal for this on-point interpretation of Maria having fun with Henry. |
It’s interesting to note here that Fanny admits (to herself if not to anyone else) that Henry is the best actor of the bunch. This is not exactly a virtue, but she makes it clear that it enhances her “innocent enjoyment” of Lovers’ Vows. I think it’s okay to question the validity of this statement. This passage reads to me as Fanny being divided in two: the Fanny who must observe her duty to her uncle, and the Fanny whose romantic heart comes alive through literature and art. She may be attempting to reconcile those two parts of herself, but if that’s the case, it comes across as underwritten. Then again, this is the same Fanny who, a few chapters ago, assumed that Maria and Julia would find the language and subject matter of the play too uncouth for them. Fanny has proven that she is the most sheltered young woman in the novel. I guess the question is, can her (superficial) admiration of a cad like Henry affect that?
Meanwhile, Mrs. Norris is on hand to make sure that Fanny’s being put to work. “You are best off, I can tell you: but if nobody did more than you, we should not get on very fast,” she sniffs to her niece. Of course, her claim that Fanny can’t multitask is immediately undermined when Fanny rattles off the rehearsal schedule to Lady Bertram while continuing to sew.
The next day, Fanny does her level best to hide from everyone as yet another rehearsal begins. But she’s interrupted by Mary, imploring her to help Mary rehearse. “You have a look of [Edmund’s] sometimes,” she reasons—and I cannot believe, for all her worldliness, that Mary can be so clueless of Fanny’s anvil-sized crush on Ed.* I’ll expand on the possible reason(s) why this is as we get deeper into the story. She’s only hanging out with Fanny because she couldn’t find Edmund first and by now likely knows that Ed will usually pop up wherever Fanny is.
Anyway, Fanny agrees to help (likely out of a combination of guilt, duty, and fear) and Mary laughs at the idea of Sir Thomas looking in to see them using the old classroom for acting. We’re left to infer how this makes Fanny feel. Ditto with the anecdote Mary shares about her little aside to Rushworth re: Maria’s “maternal” quality. Say what you want about Mary—she’s been very consistent on the subject of which man she thinks Maria should end up with.
And ta-da! In the middle of the scene rehearsal, Edmund knocks at the door. Fanny is quickly relegated to third wheel status as the man she loves fawns over his coquettish object of affection. They begin to rehearse the one scene she wanted to avoid watching at all costs, and is indeed so overwhelmed by their obvious mutual regard that she actually forgets to prompt Ed, “[turning] away exactly as he wanted help.” Fanny won’t let her most inner feelings spill out, but neither can she keep up the pretense (in fact, act) that she can be at his beck-and-call. Once the scene is over, her worst fear is confirmed: Mary and Ed performed it so well because their chemistry is undeniable.
Later that evening, all of Mansfield is buzzing because the first major rehearsal of half the play is happening that night. Then, disaster strikes: Mary Crawford returns from the parsonage to report that Mrs. Grant can’t come due to her husband’s heart burn. Everyone is all “Waily, waily!” and acts as though Dr. Grant is somehow ruining opening night. But then the whole room remembers that they have a spare, and advance on poor Fanny. Even Ed! Edmund Bertram, fully seduced and having a jolly good time, completely forgets his anxieties from earlier, his respect for Fanny’s “no” from two chapters ago, and is now part of the peer pressure crowd. Lovely.
I’d like to highlight the fact that the first time Henry Crawford is shown interacting with Fanny, it’s in the context of attempting to persuade her to do something despite her having said no to it several times. Just … something to put a pin in.
And finally, shoe #2 drops: Fanny gives in. This moment is, I believe, one that Fanny’s critics point to as an example of her supposed hypocrisy. And that’s a … point of view. But let’s look at the circumstances under which she agrees to go along with them: Ed is no longer on her side, but is “repeat[ing] his wish” that she help them rehearse, all while giving her “a look of even fond dependence on her good nature.” Pressured in part by her love for him, Fanny is powerless in this moment. She’s not doing this because she’s suddenly been bitten by the acting bug, but because she can’t say no to Edmund. Fanny the so-called prig can’t say no to her heart.
But all this is suddenly interrupted by Julia rushing in with a warning: “My father is come! He is in the hall at this moment.”
Next week: Panic! At the English Manor, Tom thinks fast, Mr. Yates decides the show must go on, and Sir Thomas just wants to be a dad.
*This scene reminds me of Sense and Sensibility, where Lucy Steele forces her “rival” Elinor Dashwood into being her confidant with the goal of marking shared love interest Edward Ferrars as her territory. It’s not the best comparison, as Mary doesn’t view Fanny as a rival here. But they are both examples of female friendships that have brittle foundations and a sheen of insincerity.
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