Dear Folks,

Consider this.

" ... all the evil and good of their earliest years could be gone over again, and every former united pain and pleasure retraced with the fondest recollection. An advantage this, a strengthener of love, in which even the conjugal tie is beneath the fraternal. Children of the same family, the same blood, with the same first associations and habits, have some means of enjoyment in their power, which no subsequent connections can supply; and it must be by a long and unnatural estrangement, by a divorce which no subsequent connection can justify, if such a precious remains of the earliest attachments are ever entirely outlived. Too often, alas! it is so.--Fraternal love, sometimes almost every thing, is at others worse than nothing. ..."

Mansfield Park, Chapter VI, Volume 2

That narration describes a meeting between Fanny Price and her brother William, but it serves us as well as the setting down of a unifying theme of Mansfield Park. I will try to justify that thought to you. Before we move on, however, reread the selection and tell me if you can point to any other place in the novels where the tone is similar? - So heartfelt, even sad in a way. I have a hunch that many passages of the first drafts had this appearance, but were edited out as Jane Austen went over and over the manuscripts to make them smooth and consistent in style. Her final manuscripts are as beautiful, manicured parks, but this passage is as an outcropping in a secluded corner where we paleontologists can search for traces of a hidden and miraculous life.

I say "the fraternal tie" is "a unifying theme" because it is not the just the Price siblings that are portrayed in this positive way, the Crawfords are seen in the same light. That is strange because they are the bad influences of the novel and, in this way, Jane Austen softens their characters by making them excellent brother and sister. Also, it is the betrayals of the fraternal or familial ties that serve as the crises and signposts of the novel, crises in events and signposts of ill-natures or wrong choices.

For example, everyone remembers Mary's gift of a gold chain to Fanny, the gift that was meant to further Henry's courtship of Fanny Price; however, Jane Austen also gave us an excellent example of Henry's devotion to his sister. That occurs in Chapter VII of Volume 2. "Bertram," says Henry to Edmund, "I have never told you what happend to me yesterday in my ride home." His horse had thrown a shoe and he was obliged to return home as best he could. Just by accident - yeah, right - he happened to wander onto the land and house that was to serve as Edmund's parsonage, Thornton Lacey. He then began to critique the house and lands, "There will be work for five summers at least before the place is live-able." He then burdened Edmund by suggesting a series of expensive improvements that "must be done". Edmund replies to Crawford in the next passage, and Mary, who had been evesdropping returned with new vigor to her card game.

" '... very little of your plan for Thornton Lacey will ever be put in practice. I must be satisfied with rather less ornament and beauty. I think the house and premises may be comfortable, and given the air of a gentleman's residence without very heavy expense, and that must suffice me; and I hope may suffice for all who care about me.'

Miss Crawford, a little suspicious and resentful of a certain tone and a certain half-look attending the last expression of his hope, made a hasty finish of her dealings with William Price, and securing his knave at an exorbitant rate, exclaimed, 'There, I will stake my last like a woman of spirit. No cold prudence for me. I am not born to sit still and do nothing. If I lose the game, it shall not be from not striving for it.' "

No, Mary will strive and her brother will be her partner in whatever hand she plays. Henry did not leave it there, he continued in his beloved sister's cause until Sir Thomas ended the discussion with a lecture to Crawford.

The theme of precious fraternal and familial ties occurs in several other of our Lady's novels. Darcy and Elizabeth are both devoted to family and, especially to a sister. One of the two great Darcy sins, in the eyes of Elizabeth, is his interference in her sister's love life. Elizabeth will admit her love for Darcy only after he rescues another of her sisters from an infamy. And after the engagement, Elizabeth playfully teases Darcy and commands him to "account for his having ever fallen in love with her".

" 'My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners - my behavior to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. ... To be sure you knew no actual good of me - but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love.'

'Was there no good in your affectionate behavior to Jane while she was ill at Netherfield?' "

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter LIX

By this time, Darcy could also have called to mind Elizabeth's kindness to his sister, Georgianna, when she was visiting his family at Pemberley. To my mind, Sense and Sensibility has far less to do with sense and sensibility than it has to do with the fraternal tie. In a short argument, I would begin by pointing out that Jane Austen's original title for that novel was Elinor and Marianne. It is only in the last novel, Persuasion, that we see anything like an antithesis; in that novel, it seems that the farther Anne Elliot is from her family, especially her sisters, the more she is appreciated. What is that all about?

This recurring theme was not missed by members of Jane Austen's own family. J. H. Hubback was a grandson of Jane's brother, Admiral Sir Francis Austen. He joined his niece E.C. Hubback in the authorship of Jane Austen's Sailor Brothers, a collection of family reminisces passed down by our Lady's siblings. That book begins

No one can read Jane Austen's novels, her life, or her letters without feeling that to her the ties of family were stronger and more engrossing that any others.

And further on

"...Much has been said about her fondness for pairs of sisters in her novels, but no less striking are the brother and sister friendships which are an important factor in four out of her six books. ...But it is in Mansfield Park that brothers and sisters play the strongest part. ..."

But Jane Austen was no Louisa May Alcott, our Lady was an adult writer with a realistic view. Notice that she wrote, "Too often, alas! it is so.--Fraternal love, sometimes almost every thing, is at others worse than nothing." I am thinking about the way that Edmund was used by his siblings, Tom and Maria, during the production of the play at Mansfield. Edmund resisted the production of the play at Mansfield, but restrained his protest somewhat by reminding himself with "...'Family squabbling is the greatest evil of all, and we had better do anything than be altogether by the ears.' " and, "... 'I cannot undertake to harangue all the rest upon a subject of this kind--There would be the greatest indecorum I think.' ". But, his resolve was doomed when Mary cheerfully took on the part of Amelia and the subject became who would play Amelia's lover, Anhalt. Tom Bertram may not have known himself, but he knew his brother well enough to know how to trap him into the part. Tom merely made a show of bringing in a neighbor to play the role. Edmund capitulated, he said this to Fanny: " '...To think only of the license which every rehearsal must tend to create. It is all very bad! Put yourself in Miss Crawford's place, Fanny. Consider what it would be like to act Amelia with a stranger. ...' ". (Hmm, yes I suppose that it would be better for Mary to take license with Edmund.)

"It was, indeed, a triumphant day to Mr. Bertram and Maria. Such a victory over Edmund's discretion had been beyond their hopes, and was most delightful. There was no longer any thing to disturb them in their darling project, and they congratulated each other in private on the jealous weakness to which they attributed the change, with all the glee of feelings gratified in every way. ...They behaved very well, however, to him on the occasion, betraying no exultation beyond the lines about the corners of the mouth, ..."

Mansfield Park, Chapter XVII, Volume 2

Well, you know how it is, sometimes family ties are worse than nothing.

Dear Ashton,

I cannot believe you posted my egocentric missive regarding my own birth date. It was a childish attention-seeking device (I'm an eldest, you know) devised to secure your own personal indulgence. Instead I have succeeded in exposing myself yet again to ridicule. However, as I richly deserve to be put in my place I will accept my punishment with a glad heart. (I have studied dutifully at the feet of Pamela and know when I am at fault). Squire Booby is out humouring the young rakes of the district this evening at a local hostelry so I am free to consider more important things than his dinner.

I refuse to indulge you with my usual sycophantic outpourings on your observations of fraternal love in Mansfield Park. This is simply because you must know yourself that you are touched with brilliance when you set out such thought-provoking insights. I had never noticed that quote before and suddenly realised that Mansfield Park actually opens with "Fraternal love, sometimes almost every thing" at a time when it is "worse than nothing". That is we are first introduced to the Ward sisters at a time when Fanny's mother, Miss Frances had "married, in the common phrase, to disoblige her family, and by fixing on a Lieutenant of Marines, without education, fortune or connections, did it very thoroughly."

Within three short pages we have heard a description of the extent of the sister's falling-out, eleven years of separation and subsequent resumption of kindly feelings. Lady B appears to momentarily place "the conjugal tie ...beneath the fraternal" and agrees instantly with her sister to send for Fanny- unusual since the genesis of the argument had been "disrespectful reflections on the pride of Sir Thomas" (albeit indiscreetly revealed and possibly enhanced by Mrs. Norris). There is also the rather amusing hint that the argument was more for show than deeply felt "Their homes were so distant, and the circles in which they moved so distinct, as almost to preclude the means of ever hearing of each other's existence during the eleven following years, or at least to make it very wonderful to Sir Thomas, that Mrs. Norris should ever have it in her power to tell them, as she now and then did in an angry voice, that Fanny had got another child". I can only conclude that they were still writing. I wonder if Mrs. Norris facilitated the breech between the Bertrams and the Prices so that she might enjoy their exclusive patronage? And I wonder if the "angry voice" owed a little to jealousy that she was childless?

Another poignant illustration of fraternal love and intermingled jealousy is all that heart-wrenching stuff about the silver knife. I can't quite figure out if the silver knife was loved by Susan and Betsey for itself or as a remembrance of their dead sister Mary. Certainly Betsey seems satisfied that the gift from Fanny is infinitely better than Mary's knife on receipt of the new one. (Because it was truly newer and prettier? Because it would infuriate Susan? Because it was a gift from another sister, Fanny???) And Susan with her open temper is delicate enough to appreciate the gesture from Fanny yet rejoice in being able to have complete possession of the gift made to her from the death-bed of her sister Mary.

And talking of siblings, how many siblings did Fanny have? When Mrs. Price writes her letter of appeal to the Bertrams after eleven years she is just about to go through her ninth lying-in. Fanny comes to Mansfield "within a twelve-month" (has to be after the birth) aged ten. When Fanny returns aged about seventeen she meets little Betsey, aged five and Charles, both of whom had been born since Fanny left home which makes eleven children at least. Other siblings are William, of course, Susan, Tom, Sam, the unnamed brother who was a clerk in a public office in London and the unnamed brother who was midshipman on board an Indiaman. Mary had died so that accounts for only nine. Who am I missing?

From the Meister: Curly and Moe. Damn!, girl, you wrote some fine paragraphs there. I am about to put out a page on Mansfield Park, and I am going to use those paragraphs - I won't bother rewriting them. This is wonderful; before your posting, I had only Julie's ideas to appropriate but that would have been theft (so?). Since I will taking your stuff too, any reasonably person will call my page "research". There is just one thing - what is wrong with "childish, attention-seeking devices"? I thought that was what all of us are doing?

Dear Sir,

Jane Austen is not quite so admiring of the mutual devotion of the Mr and Miss Crawford as might be at first supposed.  Mary only accepted Mrs Grant's invitation (and with some reservations) after first trying to persuade her brother that they should live together at Everingham.  Mary was obviously in quite a difficult position, as it was impossible that a young single woman could live in the same house as a single man and his mistress.  No-one can suppose that Edmund, or even Tom Bertram, would have allowed a sister of his to remain in such a plight. Henry, unfortunately, 'could not accommodate his sister in an article of such importance' as providing a home for her, but he was quite happy 'to escort her, with the utmost kindness (meaning, I suppose, that he didn't drive the carriage too fast) into Northamptonshire, and as readily engaged to fetch her away again at half an hour's notice.....'  Mary only accepted Mrs Grant's invitation (and there had been no contact between the siblings since the death of their common parent) because her brother would not make any provision for her.  While not supposing that Mary was either helpless or friendless, I still do not see how his actions can be construed as brotherly devotion.  Fanny herself, though obviously not an impartial observer, comments that it would have been more proper, perhaps, had Henry undertaken to teach his sister to ride.

Tom and Edmund become close when Tom is ill - Edmund is the person Tom wants by him. What is really telling, I think, is one of the last comments about the Price children:

'In (Susan's) usefulness, in Fanny's excellence, in William's continued good conduct and rising fame, and in the general well-doing and success of the other members of the family.......Sir Thomas saw repeated, and for ever repeated reason to rejoice in what he had done for them all, and acknowledge the advantages of early hardship and discipline, and the consciousness of being born to struggle and endure.'

Sir Thomas' elder son and daughter grew up utterly selfish - even their father, in hindsight, can scarcely believe he had allowed such a thing to happen.  But somewhere in the Price household was enough tolerance, interest and affection paid to the children, for all the chaos and dirt and booze also present, to allow them to grow up, with a little outside help, into productive human beings who possessed sound values (though I don't hold much hope for young Miss Betsey).

I suppose this harks back to an earlier argument regarding Henry Crawford, but I cannot, for the life of me, read one single remark about him in the text of Mansfield Park that shows any disinterested, decent, feeling or action.  He is utterly attractive and totally egocentric.  He never, ever, does one thing that is not motivated by the wish to further Henry's interests - usually with women.

Actually, one line springs to mind that beautifully illustrates what a different planet Henry actualy inhabits:  his comment that he 'must have' Fanny Price and Admiral Crawford meet and like each other:  in other words, Fanny is to admit to her acquaintance, and socialise with, a man who keeps a mistress, openly.  By the mores of the day, such a thing was simply impossible, and for Henry Crawford to think it could happen (quite apart from the personalities involved) simply underlines the fact that, charming as he may be, their are gaping holes in his personality:  he lacks the ability to grasp the fact that other people have real feelings, that may be affected by his conduct.
Julie

Dear Julie,

Although things do not look well for any really good outcome in Betsy's character, let us understand that she will sometimes visit her sisters in the parsonage and at Mansfield Park. Jane Austen has offered us in P&P two examples of young women who had been either spoiled by uncaring parents or allowed to resort to reading and music to make up for being slighted by her family, which, I suppose, is the same thing. Kitty turned out very well as a result of extensive visits to Pemberley and Netherfield. Mary became a leading figure in Meryton society. We should not write off Betsy. Neither Fanny nor Susan would encourage Betsy's selfish enjoyment of life.

Dear Julie,

Your posting is excellent.

The point that you make on "...the advantages of early hardship and discipline...", is related to one you have made before. I had always thought the idea correct but peripheral. I don't think so anymore, your posting now compels me to see that the idea is central. I am going to post an entire page on Mansfield Park on Jane Austen's birthday. (I have been letting out little pieces of it in hopes of receiving some criticism.) I am a bit unhappy with the way it hangs together and concludes at present. I now understand that if I appropriate your idea, I can eliminate those difficulties. I will find some obscure place to acknowledge you.

It is true that you have had an argument about Henry Crawford's nature, but not with me. In fact, I always took your side in that debate. Perhaps I seemed to be more positive about Crawford in my posting than I intended. He is inconsiderate, idle, self-involved, and predatory. But, superimposed on that, is his intimate and - yes - caring interactions with his sister. Those moments are interesting; I do think he would do as well for Mary as he possibly could, as long as it didn't spoil his plans for the evening. I don't think Henry would betray Mary, certainly not to the extent that he will eventually betray Maria.

Now, for some old quibbles. I suspect that you exaggerate the social disapprobation of an Admiral openly living with a mistress. The Regency was nothing like the Victorian in my view. Perhaps you can turn me around on that one - you never have come close before. Remember, that Mansfield Park appeared about ten years after the death of Admiral Lord Nelson who, to this day, is greatly revered by the English.

It is not true that Darcy, and the others, did not have a profession; they were CEOs. (Oh! Gee, maybe they didn't have a profession!) Anyway, they had to be trained for that by the patriarch. Remember that Sir Thomas took Tom to Antigua with him - that was part of his training. Well, Tom was, ultimately, poorly trained, but Jane Austen leaves us with the distinct impression that Darcy was beautifully prepared. A liberal education was part of that training; that might be done at Oxford or Cambridge or, as in the case of Jane's own brother Edward, it might be the result expected from a "Grand Tour".

Dear Sir,

You are quite right in your comparative estimation of Regency and Victorian society (Jane Austen herself congratulated herself, in a letter to Cassandra, in having 'an eye for an adultress, and you will already know from your readings of Woodforde, that a mistress could hold a position in the society of the time), but nevertheless, the notion that Mrs (Fanny) Crawford would be asked to meet or socially acknowledge the mistress of Admiral Crawford is a nonsense. What tended to happen was that the mistress, if she occupied a position of respect in a rich man's house, would indeed dine with single men, and married men unaccompanied by their wives, but their access to female company was severely curtailed.  Mary Crawford herself acknowledges this, when discussing the possible lives of Henry and Mrs (Maria) Crawford:  'In some circles, we know, she will never be admitted, but with large parties and entertainments there will be those who will be glad enough of her acquaintance.....' hardly what Maria had been brought up to expect for herself.  Sir Thomas, when dontemplating the future of his daughter, remarks that 'he would not so insult the neighbourhood, as to expect it to notice her.....' the life of a mistress was a tenuous one, indeed.  Jane Austen despised the Prince Regent, one of a large number of sons of George III, who almost to a man chucked out their life partners (by morganatic marriages, at best) and reluctantly faced up to the unattractive countenances of the European princesses who could alone provide the heir that the dynasty required.

But to return to the point:  Admiral Crawford would have been quite able to visit the marital establishment of Mr and Mrs Crawford, but neither man would have expected Mrs Crawford to have met or acknowledged the Admiral's mistress.  The excellent Life of George Eliot by Rosemary Ashton illustrates this point:  Mary Anne Evans decided quite deliberately, to live as the wife of Lewes, who happened to have a wife (who herself had a lover)   the consequence for Mary Anne was that, while admitted to the acquaintance of some of the best minds of the day, she was largely denied female companionship, and was ostracised by her family.   One admires the generosity of the menage, whereby Lewes was prepared to acknowledge and support children quite plainly not his own - indeed, as adults, these young people were supported and nursed by Lewes and Eliot. Actually, the poor woman couldn't win: she was damned when she didn't marry Lewes, and even more damned when, after his death, she did marry another man:  somehow, in the public view, her 'real' marriage had diminished the dignity of her first.

But to return just one more time to the Crawford children: young Mary and Henry were orphaned when small, and taken to live with strangers, where, it seems to me, they were treated like a couple of poodle dogs:  Admiral and Mrs Crawford doated on the children, but even there they must turn them into bones over which to bicker: each had his or her favourite.  Henry never makes a comment about Mrs Crawford, but Mary certainly has sufficient to say about 'her poor, ill-used aunt', and why Fanny might 'have cause to abhor the very name of Crawford'.  The sad fact is that the sophisticated, intelligent, wealthy Crawford siblings are entirely ignorant in matters of human relationships:  they do not seem ever to have been nurtured for their own sakes. Mary dimly sees that there might be another way of living - 'but habit, habit carried it', and she shut the door that was opened to her.  They are the equivalent of Seinfeld.
Julie

Dear Ashton,

Ashton, you assert that "everyone remembers Mary's gift of a gold chain to Fanny, the gift that was meant to further Henry's courtship of Fanny Price". I am not sure that Mary tells the truth. It is very hard to remember the chronology when we know the story so well, but Mary gives the chain to Fanny (Chapter 26) before Henry has told her of his intentions towards Fanny (Chapter 30): intentions that surprise Mary. It is not until chapter 36 that Mary claims that Henry intended the chain as a gift to Fanny all along.

If we conclude that Mary’s explanation to Fanny in chapter 36 "Was not he devoted to you at the ball, the necklace! Oh! You received it just as it was meant. You were as conscious as heart could desire. I remember it perfectly." is a misguided lie to further her brother’s interests, we are left with an unsettling question. What motivation does Mary have in giving a gift intended for herself from her brother to Fanny Price? Does it show she places the desire to secure Fanny’s affections over those of her own fraternal regard for Henry? Certainly I can’t see Fanny parting with her topaz cross as easily as Mary parts with a gift from her brother Henry. For Fanny the cross is imbued with meaning for her  the affection with which she is held in the heart of her brother William.

We could explain away this inconsistency with a sort of Widows Mite analogy ­ Mary has plenty of gifts from her brother  "He is always giving me something or other. I have such innumerable presents from him that it is quite impossible for me to value or for him to remember half." So it easy for her to give. Whereas we know William could not afford a chain as well as the cross so Fanny would find it harder to part with her more unique gift. However, I don’t think this explains it fully.

There are other reasons why Mary must be lying­ never a very attractive trait. When she gives the necklace in chapter 30 she claims it is (1) an old necklace (2) that she has worn it several times, though not above half-a-dozen (3) that she has had it three years. So she must be lying either in chapter 36 or chapter 30.

Further evidence is that Henry never (as far as I can remember ­ I am willing to be corrected) makes any reference to the necklace at all. Fanny thinks she catches him looking at it but it might be the bizarre fact that she was wearing two necklaces. Henry is not the sort of man to fail to make capital of an advantage and in all his personal conversations with Fanny I really can’t recall him saying anything like "I know you must fancy me or else you would never have accepted that necklace as a gift". Remember that he prefixes his first proposal to Fanny by giving her intelligence of the promotion of her brother.  He then uses this to place her under an obligation to accept him. If he had intended the necklace for Fanny, why does he not mention it and use it to his advantage?

If you accept Mary is lying at one end of the transaction or the other then there is an interesting irony in her speech "Oh! You received it just as it was meant. You were as conscious as heart could desire. I remember it perfectly".

Any other Crawford porkies in evidence? (for our international brethren, porkies = pork-pies = lies in Cockney rhyming-slang,)

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