Mansfield Park, ch. 32: Showdown

Credit to the excellent Darya Shnykina once
again. This really captures the coldness of
Sir Thomas at his worst.

There are, essentially, three parts to this chapter. First, Sir Thomas plays the part of a kindly and attentive uncle. Then he reverts to the role of thundering antagonist. Finally, though, we see him try to achieve balance between the two extremes as he is guided first by his materialistic streak and then by the hidden depth of his sensitivity and empathy.

First things first: there’s no fire in the fireplace. Now, the East Room isn’t Fanny’s bedroom, but the dialogue implies that it is either impractical or impossible for Fanny to have a fire going in her bedroom. (Which opens up a new can of worms, like why would you make a ten-year-old move into a room with no fireplace when you live in a mansion?) Sir Thomas’s reaction upon hearing that Mrs. Norris is the reason why Fanny is shivering is remarkable. For one thing, he believes her implicitly. Then he somehow contradicts Mrs. Norris’s brutish demand while sounding cordial and respectful. He gives Mrs. Norris the benefit of the doubt while also making it clear that he is aware of a certain behavioral pattern of hers. And finally, he praises Fanny for “hav[ing] an understanding which will prevent you from receiving things only in part, and judging partially by the event.”

So right now, he’s on Team Fanny. Awesome. But then he delivers the news that Henry Crawford just asked him for permission to marry Fanny, and it all goes pear-shaped.

“Refuse him?” he asks, twice, as if he doesn’t trust his own ears. Refuse Henry Crawford, a good-looking, charming rich guy whose sister is Fanny’s best friend and who just helped her brother get promoted? Sir Thomas is confused. And on hearing Henry’s version of the terrible, horrible, no-good proposal, Sir Thomas is content to assume that Henry “received as much encouragement to proceed as a well–judging young woman could permit herself to give.”

She just doesn’t like the guy, Fanny replies haltingly. Specifically, she takes issue with “his [lack of principles,” though she’s not at liberty to go into detail: “Maria and Julia, and especially Maria, were so closely implicated in Mr. Crawford’s misconduct, that she could not give his character, such as she believed it, without betraying them.” Whether she hides this information due to her awe of her uncle or her adherence to the noble code of “ho’s before bros,” I keep going back and forth on. Note that Sir Thomas has all but ignored the only other reason that she’s given: that it was impossible for her to take Henry’s proposal seriously.

At which point Sir Thomas is like, okay, let’s go over this again, in a slow and deliberate way in order to test whether or not his niece is in love with Tom or Edmund (which Sir Thomas was hoping to avoid). Instead of asking Fanny outright if she’s in love with one of them, he makes a general observation of Edmund’s courtship of Mary. By simply agreeing with this statement of fact, Fanny is not technically lying, though “she would rather die than own the truth.”

But this doesn’t appease Sir Thomas. Ignorant of Henry’s real character, Sir Thomas angrily, rashly concludes that Fanny is being “willful and perverse” in the “independence of spirit” she’s shown. He reminds her that she owes it to her family and her guardians to marry well. It is her duty. It is the practical choice. Who knows if any other man will come along? And finally, after cutting into her again and again, Sir Thomas accuses her of “ingratitude.”

Credit to Chinny Ogbuagu. 

This issue is, as I’ve noted, especially triggering for Fanny. Again: what does she owe to her uncle? Does she owe him a quick courtship and a good marriage? Does she owe him the truth about her feelings for Ed or the transgressions of Henry? Fanny has decided, however, that the one thing she doesn’t owe Sir Thomas is resignation to a life with a man she neither likes nor trusts, despite fearing that her uncle’s opinion of her, once lost, may be lost forever. Thus she puts heart above duty or material gain. (Though let’s not forget that she values one much more than the other.)

But then Sir Thomas actually stops to think and kinda-sorta backtracks. Maybe some good old-fashioned peer pressure will work better than berating his “very timid and exceedingly nervous” niece. He also concludes that her ugly-crying has made her less attractive at the moment, so he doesn’t make her go down to see Henry. He leaves Fanny racked with sobs.

You’d have to be made of stone not to feel for Fanny. Readers often come away with the impression that Fanny is a doormat with no personality, but they misunderstand where she draws her strength from. She endures like the evergreen; and as the name itself implies, her fault here might be naivete more than anything. Fanny “had hoped that, to a man like her uncle, so discerning, so honourable, so good, the simple acknowledgment of settled dislike on her side would have been sufficient.” Unfortunately, it was the same mildness that’s helped her hide her affection for Ed that also masks her “dislike” for Henry. Her saving grace just became one of her biggest drawbacks.

Of course, there is honor and goodness in Sir Thomas. He visits her again without making it into a thing, asks that she speak to Henry later, and tells her to go out and get some air (implying that he, like Ed, knows that Fanny needs exercise). Moreover, he promises not to tell Lady Bertram or Mrs. Norris about the ordeal, choosing Fanny’s peace of mind over other considerations. And although he doesn’t overtly refute Mrs. Norris’s stupid tirade at dinner re: Fanny’s “independence,” it’s clear that, now that he hears his own words being thrown at Fanny again, he feels how “unjust” they are. Hypocritical? Oh, hell, yeah. But he recognizes Fanny’s good qualities again once he realizes that Mrs. Norris is making shit up as she goes along.

By the way, I think Sir Thomas does believe that Fanny owes him “the duty of a child.” Of his kids, the eldest has shirked his duties for his whole life, one of his daughters is in a loveless marriage, and the other doesn’t want to come home. Fanny is the remaining child living under his roof, and the one most like him in temperament and habit. He knows her just as well, if not better than, his daughters. He hates hearing “his own children’s merits set off by the depreciation of [Fanny’s].” Fanny, in turn, has gone from fearing him when she was smaller to recognizing his “discerning,” “honourable,” “good” qualities. However, Sir Thomas conflates “the duty of a child” with familial love (Ed’s deep respect of his dad is closely tied to his being the best Bertram kid). Fanny’s refusal to perform her “duty” feels like a rebuke of their relationship, and Sir Thomas reacted in anger partly due to disappointment in her … and partly because he feels like he failed as a parent. Again.

The most tragic relationship in Mansfield Park is not Fanny and Ed, nor Ed and Mary, nor Fanny and Mary, nor Fanny and Henry. It is between Fanny and Sir Thomas.

Oh, God, and he has a fire going in the East Room when Fanny returns. This is exactly what I mean when I say that Sir Thomas is one of the most complex adult characters Austen has ever written. A cynic would read this and assume that this act of charity is in fact a kind of warning, as if Sir Thomas is signaling to Fanny, look what I do for you—I control your comfort. Yet at the same time, he is also making good on an unspoken promise he made before he berated Fanny. He is at once the mercenary guardian and the attentive uncle. He’s trying, you guys.

Of course, Austen decides to throw in a hilarious dig at Mrs. Norris (the woman who gave the order not to let a fire be lit in the first place) at the closing of this chapter. It speaks volumes about both her blind dislike for her niece and her inflated ego that she insists that Sir Thomas wants to see her and not Fanny. Even the butler throws some sass her way! Not only is this a nice palate cleanser for the chapter, but it also foreshadows Mrs. Norris’s diminished authority and influence in the story.

Unfortunately, Fanny is leaving behind one tormentor only to face a new one: Henry Crawford.

Next chapter: a non-confrontational confrontation, Sir Thomas takes a chill pill, and Lady Bertram’s version of motherhood explains a lot.