Mansfield Park, ch. 29: Edmund on My MInd

Credit to Fernando Vicente. This illustration is part of a series called
Principales personajes masculinos. I like to think that this is Edmund,
a deep thinker who isn't confined by the walls of Mansfield,
literally or metaphorically.

Chapter link is here.

For once, Fanny is not the principle sufferer when there’s suffering to be had. Sure, she has to say goodbye to her brother William without knowing when she’ll be able to see him again. But she’s definitely not shedding tears over Henry’s departure, despite Sir Thomas’s naive hope that she’s developed an attachment to the ladies’ man. When she reflects that “her feelings” cannot “acquit her of having done and said and thought everything by William that was due to him for a whole fortnight,” I can’t help but think that I kind of skipped over him in these last few chapters. Happily, we will see William again.

True, things get a bit worse for Fanny once Edmund peaces out (after “second breakfast,” too—are the Bertrams expecting Merry and Pippin?) to visit a friend and give himself space from Mary. Lady Bertram remembers nothing from the ball last night, so Fanny has no one to talk to until she visits Mary and Mrs. Grant the next day. Being able to

experience “all the heightenings of imagination, and all the laughs of playfulness which are so essential to the shade of a departed ball” lifts her spirits considerably. I’m singling this out because it’s just about the only example, thus far, of Fanny actively seeking a social gathering, even at the expense of hearing Mary possibly talk about Ed (it doesn’t seem like she did, though). I think this is another way in which the ball has brought out something new in Fanny: much like her romantic heart is moved by art and nature, she has found dancing (a romantic act in itself) invigorating. It takes her one day to get over William’s and Ed’s departures. Think about that—that’s a double-whammy. Would the Fanny of chapter 3 or chapter 10 have been able to turn herself around so quickly? So proactively?

Fanny and her aunt and uncle all seem to be feeling a little isolated, thanks to the news that Julia is traveling with Maria to London. Lady Bertram is moved to congratulate herself and her husband for sending for Fanny to live with them, now that all their offspring have left. It’s unclear as to why she wants her kids to be at Mansfield, given that she’s spent a large part of the novel either uninterested in their lives or deep in the R.E.M. cycle when they’re in the room. Is this her version of empty nest syndrome? We’ll soon see some interesting depth to Lady Bertram, which I’ll expand on once we get there.

Sir Thomas notes that “If we have been kind to her, she is now quite as necessary to us.” Why, that sounds like a healthy and robust statement of theme! So … how is kindness being defined here? I’ve been scratching my head over this but I think I’m onto something. If Sir Thomas is implying that giving her room and board for eight years is “kind,” then he’s got a point. But kind to her as a person? That only started happening recently. If he’s implying that kindness and necessity are interchangeable, or like a quid pro quo, then that’s even more bizarre. Or maybe he’s just happy that Fanny turned out to be someone from who they can draw comfort—which, given how uncomfortable her experience has been growing up at Mansfield, is an irony we can only begin to uncover.

However! Sir Thomas is nevertheless, in his own way, paying Fanny the most direct compliment he’s ever given her: he’s showing his appreciation for her just being around. Then he kinda-sorta undercuts it by hinting that the Hanny marriage is nigh. He phrases it in a nice way: “She will never leave us, I hope, till invited to some other home that may reasonably promise her greater happiness than she knows here.” It’s subtle enough that Fanny doesn’t get that he’s talking about Henry Crawford’s home specifically. In fact, given that she doesn’t react at all, I wonder if she has any anxieties about finding someone to marry?

Though Fanny seems to be doing her best to get over William’s leaving and her infinite crush on Ed, Mary is struggling with Ed’s absence. She’s still mad that he’s receiving orders, annoyed at her dwindled social circle, and nervous that Ed’s friend has some very eligible single sisters. Most shockingly, she is angry at herself: “She was afraid she had used some strong, some contemptuous expressions in speaking of the clergy, and that should not have been. It was ill–bred; it was wrong. She wished such words unsaid with all her heart.”

… Really? With all of the lump of coal where your heart should be, Mary?

Okay, that’s mean. This actually shows that Mary is capable of regret, pining, and shame—qualities she hasn’t displayed up until now. I sincerely like that she identifies the “strong” language she used as “ill-bred.” The last time Mary noticed good breeding was way back in chapter 6, and that was also directly tied to Ed. This is a clever, subtle way of showing that Ed can be a good influence on her when he’s around.

But he’s not around, which means that Mary has to “get to Fanny to learn something more” about what makes Ed tick. She needles Fanny about the Owen sisters and the social scene where he’s at and are you sure none of the Owen sisters play instruments, like, not even the harp? If there is such a thing as a Mary Crawford meltdown, I think this is what it’d look like. And as much as I dislike her making this all about herself (blatantly using Fanny to boot), I feel bad for the girl. I’m not sure what she could say to Ed at this point to make up for her past behavior, but the thing is, neither is she. And that really sucks. Though it begs the question, if Ed was actually around during this time period, would Mary be regretting so much?*

There’s a line toward the end of this chapter where Fanny is not effusive enough for Mary, and consequently Mary is “disappointed; for she had hoped to hear some pleasant assurance of her power from one who she thought must know … ” In the past, I assumed that Mary wants to hear Fanny say that she will miss the city girl, rather than hearing the more passive “You will be very much missed.” Now, I’m convinced that Mary wants to hear Fanny go into detail about how Ed will miss her. Furthermore, Mary reads a whole lot into Fanny’s reddening face while missing its meaning entirely. There is something arrogant about Mary assuming that a) Fanny will blab about Ed’s complicated feelings for Mary, and/or b) she can discern Fanny’s thoughts with just a look. They don’t have that kind of relationship. And Fanny ain’t no snitch.

Next week: When Henry arrives unexpectedly from London, he drops the biggest bombshell in the novel.

*Between Mary Crawford, Sir Thomas, Mr. Darcy, and Emma Woodhouse, Jane Austen’s take on snobs fascinates me to no end.