Mansfield Park, ch. 20: Exit Stage Left

Credit to Bistra Masseva for capturing Fanny
in a front row seat for Maria's dalliance
with Henry.

Handy link to chapter 20 here, of course.

We begin with Edmund, remembering that he’s the romantic lead in a Jane Austen novel, going to his father and offering an apology for his behavior and the behavior of his siblings. (Note that our Ed is once again filling the role of eldest son.) This kind of scene is an anomaly in Austen’s writing, as it depicts two men having a conversation without a female character present. Sort of like a reverse Bechdel Test. Even now, however, the topic of conversation is neither politics, nor horses, nor gambling, nor daily news—topics Austen usually describes as belonging in the realm of men. These guys are talking about people. They’re talking about family.

Speaking of, Ed makes sure to put in a good word for Fanny, the only one of them “who judged rightly throughout, who has been consistent. [...] She never ceased to think of what was due to you.” Aw. I like Edmund again. While it’s true that, at the very end, Fanny did agree to read a part, Edmund emphasizes her obvious reluctance in doing so. I think he knows that Fanny deserves a helping hand and he feels guilty that he helped persuade her into doing something that they both knew was wrong.

Then we see Sir Thomas display one of his more frustrating traits: his willingness to turn a blind eye to the rest of his kids. He’s “more willing to believe they felt their error, rather than to run the risk of investigation.” In the next chapter, we’ll see an inversion of this play out and understand better the intersection of his values and his love for his children.

But he does attempt to talk to Mrs. Norris on the subject of the Lovers’ Vows mishap, assuming that “her judgment must certainly have disapproved” of the very idea of putting on a play. Blindsided by her brother-in-law’s lecture, Mrs. Norris hijacks the conversation by highlighting her many scruples to bring together Maria and Mr. Rushworth. It’s interesting that a respectable woman—the widow of a clergyman—can be so blithe in supporting and encouraging her nieces and nephews to essentially throw a huge party in their father’s house in (implicit) celebration of his absence. She is ignorant of “the impropriety which was so glaring to Sir Thomas,” indicating either that a) she thought the whole thing was proper enough because Tom was there, taking the lead; or b) on some level, she considers herself a just substitute in Sir Thomas’s absence, and what she says, goes.

Anyway, she talks up Mr. Rushworth and flatters Sir Thomas so much that he finally drops the subject, reasoning that “her kindness did sometimes overpower her judgment.” Ha-freaking-ha.

Meanwhile, Sir Thomas wastes no time in cleaning up his kids’ mess, literally as well as figuratively. Tom breaks the news to Yates that the play has officially been cancelled, but Yates sticks around to try to court Julia. The Bertram sisters are not happy about this renewal of uneventful evenings, but it’s Maria who is really tormented: she hopes that once Henry visits again, it’ll be to ask for her hand—even better if he times it when Rushworth is safely back at Sotherton. When Henry does arrive at Mansfield, Maria watches “with delight and agitation the introduction of the man she loved to her father.”

Man—Maria has fallen hard for Henry. This is the most vulnerable we’ve ever seen her. Though I think her assumption that Henry will automatically “declare himself” as her prospective husband is a little arrogant, it makes me wonder about her experience thus far with other young men. Rushworth fell pretty easily for her—that much we know for sure. Were there other men, then, who fell head-over-heels for her? Is Henry also the first man she felt strongly about in her life, if all she had to deal with in the past were men of Rushworth’s ilk? And is what she feels for Henry now true love, or a sexual attraction so overwhelming that she mistakes it for love?

I’d like to point out that I’m putting more thought into Maria’s emotional turmoil than she is.

Bath, England: The destination for scoundrels, gamblers, and
heart-breakers (according to Jane Austen)

And then, as soon as Tom informs him that the play is a no-go, Henry reveals his plans to visit Bath. This hits Maria right in the heart. “[His] hand which had so pressed hers to his heart!” she laments—both are “motionless and passive now!”

Henry ski-daddles shortly after that, giving her time to readjust her emotions, her plans (such as they were), and her attitude. Julia, relieved not to be the one that didn’t get picked, has enough sympathy to “pity” Maria and enough presence of mind to say good riddance to the caddish Henry. Soon, the Bertrams get rid of Yates, the other would-be suitor, and everything can finally go back to normal.

Unfortunately.

Chapter the soon: Fanny and Edmund dispense some truths to one another, Sir Thomas’s powers of observation result in no change whatsoever, and Maria completes the only duty ever given to her.