Mansfield Park, ch. 25: High Stakes, Aces Mild

I can't believe there aren't more illustrations of the
card table scene. Darya Shnykina has helpfully given
us a glimpse at the dynamic between the players.

First of all, if you’ve made it this far, congrats (and thank you!)—we’re halfway through the novel.

Happily for his son and the Crawford siblings, Sir Thomas has finally decided that he actually likes being more sociable now. He’s noticing that Henry is “somewhat distinguishing” Fanny and is willing to encourage the courtship. After all the close reading I’ve done so far—noting the ways in which Henry has played Maria and Julia against one another for the sole purpose of entertaining himself—I feel like I’m in bizzaro-land. In the previous chapter, the narrator describes Henry’s “adapting” his “continued attentions” “to the gentleness and delicacy of [Fanny’s] character.” This chapter provides some examples of how that plays out and to what degree Henry has succeeded.

It starts in earnest when Fanny is invited to sit at the cool kids’ table for the first time in her life at the Grants’. Henry immediately takes control once he is given her set of cards to monitor, gleefully ready to “inspirit her play, sharpen her avarice, and harden her heart.” Um, good luck, I guess? (Lady Bertram is here, too, but we can ignore her.)

But then Henry makes a conversational U-turn and starts to give Edmund a whole list of pro-tips for tidying up his future living, Thornton Lacey. Boy, these Crawford siblings really love dishing out unsolicited advice. Henry’s piece about “plant[ing] up to shut out the blacksmith’s shop” means that he’s advocating for a woodsy area to be grown around Thornton Lacey. In his Annotated Pride and Prejudice, David Shapard notes that “wooded areas around the outer portions of parks became standard, for they would separate the house and the more open interior portions of the grounds from the outside.” Between this and Henry’s description of Thornton Lacey as looking like “a respectable old country family had lived in [there] from generation to generation, through two centuries at least, and were now spending from two to three thousand a year in,” it’s clear that he values how the place appears in terms of money, and specifically, old money. “You may raise it into a place,” Henry adds, tying Ed’s respectability to the appearance of wealth and nobility. As we’ve earlier seen Mary express, you simply can’t have one without the other.

Ed politely tells Henry to stuff it—Ed’s the one who’d have to foot the bill for Henry’s ambitious plans, after all. Mary, enthused with the picture her brother has painted, reminds everyone about Henry’s ambitious work at Sotherton. Fanny finally hints that she’s aware of the exact nature of his work by giving Henry a “reproachful” look. Henry softly replies, “I should be sorry to have my powers of planning judged of by the day at Sotherton. I see things very differently now. Do not think of me as I appeared then.” Cruelly, the narrator turns to Mrs. Norris’s daffy outburst and denies us a look at Fanny’s response. I imagine that the cautious Fanny has no expressive look on her face, no wish to acknowledge Henry’s plea, and no idea why he’s trying to cozy up to her. But he seems to be aware of her perception of him. Remember, a couple chapters ago she expressed her distaste for the Lovers’ Vows debacle. Apparently he has connected that with his own behavior regarding Maria and Julia. You gotta wonder how much he thinks Fanny saw of that …

After Sir Thomas shuts Mrs. Norris up (she was going to use William to run an errand for her, I am so over this), he notices Henry talking exclusively to Fanny. He’s playing with the idea of renting Thornton Lacey himself with the goal of “continuing, improving, and perfecting that friendship and intimacy with the Mansfield Park family which was increasing in value to him every day.” Sir Thomas silently approves of this notion, if not the plan itself. To him, Fanny’s outward indifference and lack of encouragement appears “proper and modest.”

We know better. We know how many things Fanny may have to say to Henry, and all the reasons why she cannot. The strict, orderly, reserved Sir Thomas is witnessing Henry on his best behavior, which has been inspired by Fanny’s own natural tenderness. Yet her calm response is proof to the reader that she just doesn’t want to make waves.

Mary, meanwhile, went and got her hopes up thanks to her brother’s charming description of Thornton Lacey, but she plummets back to earth once Sir Thomas confirms that Ed will be moving into his living asap. Even she, however, dares not mock Sir Thomas, despite a rush of hatred toward him. This is another one of those moments when Mary Crawford’s duality of character is so, so relatable. She’s angry at the father of the man she has decided to reject because for a while there, she forgot her rejection. It was because she was swept up in the image of Thornton Lacey as “the respectable, elegant, modernised, and occasional residence of a man of independent fortune” (“occasional,” as in he wouldn’t live in his parish year-round which is not how livings work, Mary). Obviously  she’s not over Ed. Her heart and her materialism are both still engaged.

After the card tables break up, Fanny and William get to have some time to themselves and show off their adorable affection for one another. William stops grousing about being looked over for promotion when he realizes Sir Thomas is listening in (not that his grousing isn’t understandable, but Sir Thomas is the one trying to use his influence to promote Will). The topic turns to dancing as he reflects that he and Fanny are decent dance partners. Henry steps in to praise Fanny’s skills on the dance floor. It’s pointed out that he doesn’t actually remember seeing her dance, though he was present at the time, which is such a typical Henry move.

Hugh Thomson's illustrations appeared
in the 1895 edition. 

Another move he makes? Taking Fanny’s shawl from Ed so that he can be the one to wrap it around her. She is unhappily “obliged to be indebted” to Henry for this action. This paragraph is such a great metaphor for their courtship. Henry is certain he’ll earn a show of gratitude from Fanny despite the fact that he didn’t go to collect the shawl in the first place—he didn’t think of doing it until the last minute. By the time Mrs. Norris had ceased her inane prattling at Fanny, Henry could have gone to the servant to fetch the shawl and been back in time. But he didn’t do this, because the guy can’t even fully commit to carrying out a gentlemanly gesture.

Grr …

Next time: Sir Thomas makes for a surprisingly good party planner, Mary pulls a fast one on Fanny (shocker), and Edmund bestows a priceless gift onto his favorite cousin.