Mansfield Park, ch. 22: Fair-Weather Friends

Credit to Natasa Ilincic (again!) for this portrayal
of Fanny and Mary Crawford enjoying the day,
if not one another's company

Popularity is a funny thing, the way it can ebb and flow—or spike up sharply and then plummet. The chapter begins with Fanny, who always eschews the spotlight, finding herself becoming Miss Popular almost overnight, thanks to the absence of her socialite cousins. But no sooner has the narrator informed us of this than do we see Fanny subjected to the one thing she has been taught to fear: being treated like a lady (even by people as nice as the Grants).

Okay, I exaggerate. There are two things at work here: Fanny, described as feeling shame at least twice during her unexpected visit, a) doesn’t know how to show gratitude to anyone outside of the Bertram family, and b) feels uneasy whenever she’s with Mary Crawford. “Fanny might have enjoyed her visit could she have believed herself not in the way,” and Mary is delighted at having someone to entertain on this gloomy day in the countryside. When Fanny, watching the skies, is ready to leave, the city girl insists that she’s wrong and plays Edmund’s favorite song on her harp.

This is why I don’t like Mary. I mean, if I may take a break from being open-minded to multiple interpretations for a second. Mary, while showing herself to be a capable hostess (and Fanny a good guest, asking about the harp in the first place), is also treating Fanny just like everyone else who isn’t Edmund treats Fanny. Mary loves that Fanny showed up not because oh hooray, my friend Fanny is here, but because “the value of an event on a wet day in the country was most forcibly brought before her.” The presence of a guest gives Mary something to do. Fanny isn’t even allowed to be right about the weather, for crying out loud! “You must stay and hear your cousin’s favorite,” Mary tempts. She’s using Fanny as an audience, not engaging her like a friend—or noticing how uncomfortable Fanny actually is—because otherwise, she’d be bored.

And indeed, this continues as “an intimacy resulting principally from Miss Crawford’s desire of

Credit to Ann Kronheimer.

something new, and which had little reality in Fanny’s feelings.” They have nothing in common, their conversations are out of sync, and if anything, Fanny’s just getting the same crash-course in cynicism from Mary that the reader already has. But Fanny, as we know, also has a guilt complex when it comes to … well, everything. And maybe here, she feels she has to do penance for her inappropriate crush on Ed by being on friendly terms with his paramour.

During their walk, Fanny actually opens up to Mary, perhaps relieved to have a companion who appears to like her. And she’s not talking about William or Edmund like she usually does, but ruminating on “the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory.” For a young woman who has suffered the abuse and neglect that Fanny has, I can only imagine how her memories of growing up at Mansfield affect her now. Then she enthuses about the growth and progress of plants in different areas of the world—the evergreens that thrive in Mansfield Wood or in the Grants’ backyard may struggle to survive elsewhere. Again, the theme of growth and progress continues. Austen cleverly hints at the more complex metaphor of how Fanny, an evergreen if there ever was one, can thrive in the environment of Mansfield Park (especially now that the overgrowth, such as her pampered older cousins, has been removed).

And what’s Mary doing? Throwing herself a pity party and not listening to anything Fanny’s saying. She’s not even being a good hostess, let alone a good friend. See what I mean by out of sync?

Then Mary, roused by her feelings toward Ed, shows some spirit. She paints a cheery picture of country living: “An elegant, moderate–sized house in the centre of family connexions; continual engagements among them; commanding the first society in the neighbourhood; looked up to, perhaps, as leading it even more than those of larger fortune … ” Then she teases Fanny about Maria, implying that Maria’s sacrifice in marrying a man she doesn’t love so as to achieve the socialite life she wanted simply wasn’t a good trade-off. That’s what I’m getting from Mary’s remark, at least. I doubt that Fanny would put it in similar terms, though her reaction is open to interpretation. I think Fanny would rather believe that Maria still retains some innocence (after all, she was sincerely in love with Henry Crawford), even though her own observations would argue against that point. Mary is accurate here, but she errs in speaking freely to the young cousin of the lady in question, a young cousin who has shown no interest in gossip.

When Edmund is seen approaching them, both Mary and Fanny rejoice, showing their hands by comparing their feelings about Ed’s name. Mary hates that the “Mr.” makes him sound “so younger-brother-like,” while Fanny insists that Edmund is “a name of heroism and renown; of kings, princes, and knights.” Gosh, I wonder whose side Austen would take here …

With both Edmund and Mrs. Grant now present, Mary is in high spirits, all teasing and playful.* She makes fun of Mrs. Grant’s mundane duties as a country wife, and then gets in a few jabs at Edmund’s declaring that his “intentions are only not to be poor.” Just as during their day at Sotherton, Mary is earnest (mistakenly so, I feel) in impressing on Ed that his career choice is just the worst. She snips at him that she must “look down upon anything contented with obscurity when it might rise to distinction.” She says politics or the armed forces would have made him “honest and rich,” and therefore worthy of her respect. She’s at least maintaining the illusion that she’s joshing with him, but as he alludes to his hope of winning her over, he gives “[a] look of consciousness,” while there is “a consciousness of manner on Miss Crawford’s side as she made some laughing answer.” He’s no longer just playing, and she struggles with the truth that passes between them.

Fanny, understandably, is in more of a hurry than ever to leave, but before she does, Mrs. Grant invites her to dine with them. She doesn’t think it’s “in her power” to offer a definite yes, fearful of “ventur[ing] … to such a flight of audacious independence.” Ed finally says that they’ll run it by Sir Thomas before accepting the invitation. Then the two leave for Mansfield, Ed lost in thought, and Fanny, presumably, just plain lost.

Coming soon: Lady Bertram makes everything harder than it should be, Mrs. Norris goes full Mrs. Danvers, and an unexpected confrontation.

*The interaction between Mary and Mrs. Grant reminds me of the friendship between Elizabeth Bennet and Charlotte Lucas in Pride and Prejudice, especially the scene where Charlotte invites Elizabeth to sing a couple songs and Elizabeth teases her for making the request. Funnily enough, of the two, Charlotte is more cynical than Elizabeth—I say funny, since Mary Crawford and Elizabeth Bennet are often seen as being very similar. Charlotte is also the one who marries for a home and a steady income, and chooses a man who will inherit additional land (much like an eldest brother would). However, neither character has such a ruthless ambition to be rich, like Mary does.