Mansfield Park, ch. 21: Going to the Chapel

Credit to Helena Perez Garcia. Just look at
all those happy faces.

After the hustle and bustle of theaters and secret flirtations and the actual construction of a freaking stage in a private home, things are pretty darn quiet now at Mansfield Park. Sir Thomas’s mental well-being has improved, but everyone else is depressed. Edmund in particular laments to Fanny that the Grants—and by extension, Mary Crawford—are not being invited to Mansfield as often as they (or the Crawford sibs) used to be. He comes this close to sounding pitiful and whiny.

Fanny points out that Sir Thomas’s wishes are actually what they’ve always been: he likes staying in and having his family close by. I imagine that Fanny’s sympathy for her uncle is actually empathy, because she, too, is happy with a quiet night in and would love to spend one with those closest to her, such as her brother William. Ed suggests that she engage with Sir Thomas more in their evening discussions, and gently chides her for claiming that she’s Not Like The Other GirlsTM.  And then Austen drops an anvil-sized hint that Ed’s totally crushing on Fanny without knowing it by having him rain compliments down on her. He declares that he’s just repeating what his father would say to her under the same circumstances. But with his praise of her “countenance” and her “figure,” do we really believe that? I doubt that Austen expects us to. Ed does, however, remain oblivious to the real reason behind her discomfort. Oh, Ed, you sweet idiot.

Fanny gives a suitably Fanny-esque reason for why she doesn’t weigh in on the evening discussions: “I thought it would appear as if I wanted to set myself off at [Maria and Julia’s] expense, by shewing a curiosity and pleasure in [Sir Thomas’s] information which he must wish his own daughters to feel.” Even though Sir Thomas greeted her like a father two chapters ago, she feels she cannot risk acting like one of his children, or God forbid, a better version thereof. Instead of assuring her anxiety on this issue, Ed goes off on a pointless (to the conversation) tangent about Mary Crawford’s powers of “great discernment.” And we circle back to the original topic of conversation, Ed’s desire to see his dad get along with the woman he’s courting. His assumption that Mary is in awe of Sir Thomas’s “gentlemanlike, dignified, consistent manners” is based more on Ed’s own hopes than reality.

Fanny, uncertain of what she might say if Ed asks her to chime in on Mary’s awesomeness, switches the topic to Mr. Rushworth. Edmund’s response is hilariously blunt. After “five hours in [Rushworth’s] company,” Ed moans, “I should dread … the impression it leaves on Sir Thomas.” By now, he seems to be aware that Maria and Rushworth aren’t a good fit, though he’s apparently more frustrated by Rushworth being such an irritating dum-dum than the fact that Maria despises him.

Rushworth’s general inferiority makes Sir Thomas curious to know what, exactly, Maria sees in her fiance. He “[entreats] her to be open and sincere” when he questions her directly about it, having seen the “careless and cold” way she treats Rushworth. He promises to “release her” from the engagement if that’s what she wants. But it turns out, that's not at all what she wants.

Then she lies her ass off.

Sir Thomas takes her word for it, a) because Maria is actually a good-enough actress to pull it off, b) he reasons that she’d rather marry a guy who lives close to her family’s home, and c) because he wants to maintain the Rushworth connection for his own gain. Having Rushworth as his son-in-law would “bring him such [a large] addition of respectability and influence.” A footnote from Mansfield Park: An Annotated Edition offers some interesting background: “There may well be some pocket borough—so called because there the choice of an M. P. was for all intents and purposes in the pocket of a single person or family—where Mr. Rushworth, unqualified as he is, can count on being elected” (pg. 108). Excuse me while I shudder.

This is where the “influence” part really kicks in: he could have a son-in-law in Parliament. Like in the previous chapter, Sir Thomas would rather have Maria go her merry way despite her “speaking certainly without … the blindness of love” about Rushworth. And that is cold. One step forward, two steps back, Father Bertram.

Even colder? After not hearing from Henry for days, Maria is now “cool enough to seek all the comfort that pride and self-revenge could give.” Sick of Henry, sick of Rushworth, she has grown even more sick of Mansfield Park. For her, marriage to Rushworth will bring “independence and splendour,” “fortune and consequence,” which is all she wants. Whether Henry wanted to break her and Rushworth up is not discussed, but we’ll get some insight into Henry’s feelings later. In any case, Maria doesn’t want Henry to know that he won—to think that she’d sacrifice wealth, popularity, and freedom because of a broken heart.

Maria is supported by an understanding Julia, who goes off with the newly married couple to share in the life of a London society woman. Mrs. Norris is too busy taking credit for the match to notice her favorite niece’s mental state. Sir Thomas’s anxiety hasn’t quite disappeared by the time the wedding rolls around, and Fanny misses both her cousins “with a degree of affectionate regret which they had never done much to deserve!”

And … we say goodbye to the Bertram sisters. They won’t be back for a while. Feels kind of weird to part with Maria when she’s at her most Amy Elliott.

Soon to come: Fanny settles into an uncomfortable friendship with Mary Crawford, money makes the world go ’round, and a surprising invitation.