Dear Folks,

" 'Perhaps Sir,' said Fanny, wearied at last into speaking--'perhaps Sir, I thought it a pity you did not know yourself as well as you seemed to at that moment."

Fanny said that to Henry Crawford and she, herself, thought it "an extremity of reproof". Crawford did not get it and many modern readers do not get it either. (Actually, some readers, throughout the last two centuries, didn't get it - beginning with Jane Austen's own sister, Cassandra.) I will end this posting by reminding you of "that moment", but first I will lay a little groundwork. I will not make any condemnations of Crawford's behavior because Julie Grassi has already done that so well I cannot improve upon it (9/25/99, 9/29/99, 10/17/99). My intent is merely to amplify upon Crawford's nature and Fanny Price's reproof.

Crawford usually managed to make himself the center of attention. For example, when the young people went to visit Rushworth's estate, they went with the general understanding that Crawford was to make some monumental judgments and recommendations for the remodeling of that great place. And when Crawford was not at the center, he longed for it. When Fanny Price's brother, William, was wowing everyone with his wartime experiences, Henry thought this.

"...[Crawford] longed to have been at sea, and seen and done and suffered as much. His heart was warmed, his fancy fired, and he felt the highest respect for a lad who, before he was twenty, had gone through such bodily hardships, and given such proofs of mind. The glory of heroism, of usefulness, of exertion, of endurance, made his own habits of selfish indulgence appear in shameful contrast; and he wished he had been a William Price, distinguishing himself and working his way to fortune and consequence with so much self-respect and happy ardour, instead of what he was!"

"The wish was rather eager than lasting..."

Incidentally, if you ever meet someone who doubts that Jane Austen loved her brothers, show her that passage.

And now I turn to "that moment" to which Fanny referred. It should remind you of the passage concerning William Price. Here is the situation. Crawford had recently proposed to Fanny and been refused. His vanity led him to interpret the refusal as a "not yet", and he was pressing the issue right into her home. Sir Thomas and Edmund were his allies for interesting reasons. Fanny could have turned Sir Thomas against Crawford, but only if she had exposed Sir Thomas's own daughters to him. Edmund had demonstrated that he was blind to Crawford's behavior, in good part, perhaps, because he was in love with Crawford's sister and wished to think well of her family. So, that exquisite, Jane-Austen logic placed Fanny in a terrible dilemma; Fanny must appear as unreasonable; and must endure Crawford's repeated visits and unwelcome attentions. Only time and events would vindicate her. Edmund had recently taken orders, and the discussion turned to the occupations of the clergy. Apparently, the erstwhile-Captain Crawford was to abandon his naval-hero's uniform for the cloth:

" 'A sermon, well delivered, is more uncommon than prayers well read. A sermon, good in itself, is no rare thing. It is more difficult to speak well than to compose well; that is, the rules and trick of composition are oftener an object of study. I can never hear such a one without the greatest admiration and respect, and more than half a mind to take orders and preach myself. There is something in the eloquence of the pulpit, when it is really eloquence, which is entitled to the highest praise and respect. ... I should like to be such a man.'

Edmund laughed.

'I should indeed. I never listened to a distinguished preacher in my life, without a sort of envy. But then, I must have a London audience. I could not preach, but to the educated; to those who were capable of estimating my composition. And, I do not know that I would be fond of preaching often; now and then, perhaps, once or twice in the spring, after being anxiously expected for half a dozen Sundays together; but not for a constancy; it would not do for a constancy.'

Here Fanny, who could not but listen, involuntarily shook her head, ... "

The fool! He was trying to impress Fanny with his rhetorical skills and a supposed piety, and then he hit upon the word "constancy" - what irony! If only Crawford always had known himself half so well as he seemed to at that moment.

To All,

Hold on for a moment!  Male voices has suddenly taken on the appearance of one of those UFO/government conspiracy discussions.  The plans and actions of the Crawfords grow more Machiavellian by the moment.  The problem is that the Crawfords' greatest defect is their inability to see or care about the consequences of their actions.  They both live in and for the moment, without worrying about the future.

The closest Mary gets to a plan is her decision to like Tom Bertram best (sight unseen, wasn't it?)  and that plan is dumped immediately Tom decides to stick to his decision to visit some friends instead of  following her around.  Everything else is said and done on the spur of the moment.  Luckily, Mary has "...really good feelings by which she was almost purely governed..." Still, saying whatever  comes into her head gets her into trouble more than once.  Her remarks about the clergy at Southerton and her letters to Fanny while Fanny's at Portsmouth are two examples.  Sorry, if Mary had the scheming abilities everyone's crediting her with, she would have been allowing Edmund's attention while planning how best to use her fortune and Sir Thomas' and Admiral Crawford's influence to get Edmund into a London Bishopric where they could hobnob with Royalty.

As for Henry, we can't attribute any really good feelings to him, unless it would be his realization of Fanny's ill treatment at Mansfield Park and promise to make up for it in her married life.  But is there anything in Henry's behavior that isn't "me and what I want right now"?  His decision to accompany Mary to the Grants'  his decision to flirt with the Bertram sisters  his decision to dump Julia for Maria  to make Maria think he feels more than he does, to return to the Grants after Maria's marriage, to stay and pierce Fanny's heart...is there a single moment of conscious reflection in any of it?

There are those here who elevate Crawford's pursuit of Fanny to "seduction" and Mary's part in it to "betrayal."  Here, then, are Crawford's intentions:
'"It can be but for a fortnight,"  said Henry  "and if a fortnight can kill her, she must have a constitution which nothing could save.  No, I will not do her any harm, dear little soul! I only want her to look kindly on me, to give me smiles as well as blushes, to keep a chair for me by herself wherever we are, and be all animation when I take it and talk to her  to think as I think, to be interested in all my possessions and pleasures, try to keep me longer at Mansfield, and feel when I go away that she shall be never happy again.  I want nothing more."'

There are few young women of Fanny's age who have not felt that way and often about young men they've only seen on the TV screen.  Those of you who have raised daughters know exactly what I mean. We have all survived such passions.  I won't say Fanny would be better for such an experience (though I suspect she would)  but I'd have to agree with Henry that if it kills her, nothing could save her and with Mary that "...a little love...may...do her good..."

Mary tells Fanny that Henry suggested she give the necklace to Fanny.  "I am ashamed to say that it had never entered my head, but I was delighted to act on his proposal for both your sakes."  Strictly speaking, there was nothing inappropriate in Henry suggesting that his sister give her friend a gift, and let's not forget that Sir Thomas, who didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday,  saw nothing wrong with the transaction.  We'll never know Henry's true reason, but being Henry we assume the worst.  But would he pursue Fanny if he thought she could be had for nothing more than a used necklace? I hardly think so.  Yes, Mary's reference in the East Room is a little unkind and indelicate, but  it's Fanny's silly coyness that forces Mary into this gambit.  Eventually Fanny admits: "...certainly I was sensible of a particularity  I have been sensible of it some little time, perhaps two or three weeks, but then I considered it as meaning nothing..." This is turn causes Mary to admit  "He has now and then been a sad flirt, and cared very little for the havoc he might be making in young ladies affections."  It's too bad Fanny wouldn't be honest with Sir Thomas as well -- for all her tender sympathies when the Maria/Crawford scandal breaks she does nothing whatsoever to prevent it, or open up Sir Thomas's eyes to its possibility.

I hope everyone will forgive the disjointed nature of this post.  I'm doing some Christmas baking today and my cookies don't give a damn whether I need to finish my thought or not.
Cheryl

Dear Cheryl,

Forgive me, but I see a far more adult Jane Austen than you do yourself.

Let me begin with something easy: what was Wickham doing with Elizabeth Bennet? It is simple, Wickham was trying to bed her. Based upon your posting, I suspect that you don't believe that. But remember, he had no qualms about bedding her sister and with no apparent intention of marriage. Also, Wickham clearly demonstrated that he had no intention of marrying a women without a fortune. Will you grant this point? Will you grant me that Jane Austen is describing a seduction when she writes of Wickham's attentions to Elizabeth Bennet? Jane Austen never says this explicitly, but does it really take a conspiracy-theorist to interpret things in this way? Or maybe you will explain that gentlemen's daughters were never or rarely the objects of seductions, or that they always managed to save themselves for marriage. If you succeed in proving to me that Jane Austen knew nothing of these things, or would not stoop to write of such things, then I will stop reading her novels. I am only interested in the mature Jane Austen.

If you think that Willoughby's attentions to Marianne Dashwood were the simple flirtations of a cute young couple, let me remind you that Willoughby had impregnated Brandon's ward only just before this "flirtation" began. Jane Austen wrote that.

Henry Crawford intended to pork Fanny Price, and partly because she was so virginal. Crawford wanted to pork Fanny in the same way that he would eventually pork her married cousin, Maria. Fanny will not be seduced because she loved Edmund, hated Crawford, and was not so naive as some modern readers of Jane Austen. Henry wanted to pork Fanny and he knew how to set about it - that was the way he was raised.

"Conspiracy" is the wrong word here; what Mary was about was aiding and abetting, which does not mean that she verbalized an explicit plan with her brother. The Crawfords were as partners in the game of bridge - each, instinctively, knew what would help the other.

However, I will sooner think Henry innocent than I will think Mary spontaneous. This is a passage from the chapter on the Mansfield ball. Sir Thomas observed Fanny's beautiful countenance and graceful presence and was much pleased.

"Miss Crawford saw much of Sir Thomas's thoughts as he stood, and having, in spite of all his wrongs towards her, a general prevailing desire of recommending herself to him, took an opportunity of stepping aside to say something agreeable of Fanny. Her praise was warm, and he received it as she could wish, joining in it as far as discretion, and politeness, and slowness of speech would allow, ...Miss Crawford knew Mrs. Norris too well to think of gratifying her by commendation of Fanny; to her it was, as the occasion offered,--'Ah, ma'am, how much we want [Maria] and Julia to-night!'..."

Re-read that passage in which Mary gives Fanny the necklace and notice how Mary deliberately pushes the necklace from Henry without telling Fanny its history until Fanny has actually accepted it. Notice that when Mary talks to Fanny at the ball, she again tries to further Henry's cause. And what is that cause, I ask you? It is only after the ball that Crawford tells Mary that he wanted to marry Fanny, and Mary was very surprised to hear it. What do you think was going on there?

Mary was no Charlotte Lucas because Mary could love a man, and she loved Edmund most dearly. And Edmund loved Mary just as much - Jane Austen is explicit and clear about that. However, our Lady would not let them marry. Your problem, it seems to me, is to explain why Jane Austen made that choice. What do you say to that?

So, let us be adult - umm - do you have any extra cookies?

Reference: Dave Payton 12/6/99

Dear Dave,

Let's see, now  Mr Collins offered himself as Mr Bennet's antagonist at backgammon   Fanny Price virtually plays cribbage with herself, with Lady Bertram playing her usual role as inertia suprema (let's see, ma'am, that's four in hand and three in crib   it is your turn to deal. Shall I deal for you?').  Speculation has been well-covered, and is obviously allegorical  whist needs no comment, occupying as it does the place of prime dignity and importance   Lydia Bennet was wild for lottery tickets  at Netherfield, loo is preferred (though played, clearly, for more money than Elizabeth had on hand), while at Rosings quadrille and cassino are the games of choice. Quadrille, indeed, myst have been regarded as fairly sedate, as Mrs Bates is described as being 'a very old lady, almost past everything but tea and quadrille.'

Persuasion doesn't help us much, as Anne Elliot is no card-player, but please, Dave, what were all these other people up to?
Julie

To All,

Anielka has indeed raised an excellent point, regarding said item of jewellery; of all her remarks, I can only disagree with her assertation that the wearing of two necklaces was 'bizarre', as I do the same myself, even as I write. While acknowledging Sir's points regarding the difference in society of the Regency and the Victorian period, nevertheless, what Mr and Miss Crawford did was unpardonable.  No single young woman could accept a gift of jewellery from a young man (the English were, and are, a bit peculiar by American standards, on the notion of what is considered 'personal') to whom she was not related.  At the time of the Great Necklace Caper, neither Henry, nor Mary, considered that Miss Price was being wooed as a future Mrs Crawford: Mary couldn't  have cared less, and was quite happy to acknowledge to Fanny that Henry not only 'Knew of it!  it was his own doing entirely, his own thought.  I am ashamed to say, that it had never entered my head  but I was delighted to act on his proposal.......'  Fanny was quite right in protesting that this was an unfair act.  Can any reader of Jane Austen imagine Mr Darcy insulting Elizabeth with, say, a gold necklace, using his own sister as a vehicle?  We all know where Mr Darcy would have been looking for his necklace, had Elizabeth found out about the manouvre.

The whole incident serves to illustrate the Crawfords' basic lack of respect for Fanny Price as a person:  they unite in their use and manipulation of this child, in order to further their own ends - very much in the French fashion demonstrated in the film Dangerous Liaisons.

A little before the  passage discussing the necklace, Mary gives us an honest and sad insight into her way of thinking.  In the matter of human relationships, hers truly is 'a mind dark, yet fancying itself light': she is discussing the domestic lives of the two dear friends whom she is to visit, and at the same time giving her candid views of marriage, and human relationships: 'Poor Janet has been sadly taken in  and yet........she did not run into the match inconsiderately, there was no want of foresight.  She took three days to consider of his proposals .........and especially applied to my late dear aunt, whose knowledge of the world made her judgement very generally and deservedly looked up to by all of the young people of her acquaintance  and she was decidedly in favour of Mr Fraser.  This seems as if nothing were a security for matrimonial comfort!'  Nothing, indeed, if one is unable to see that 'taking three days to consider', and 'asking the advice of every body' does not of itself provide the answer. Who the hell needs, then or now, to ask all of his or her friends whether he or she is in love? Which is, of course, Mary's dilemma:  her emotions refuse to equate with her life experience and teaching.  Even her two stated models of marital happiness are a bit of a worry: the marriages of the Bertrams and the Grants.  I have a sneaking suspicion that the Grants are actually very happy, thank you, and that Mrs Grant has no objection to transferring her frustrated maternal instincts to her husband, but really, who would hope to end up in a marriage such as that of Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram?  What Mary is acknowledging is the public good manners that these two married couples extend to each other (this feeling was first given voice many years earlier in Sense and Sensibility, when Elinor admonishes Willoughby: 'your wife has a right to your politeness, your good manners, at least.')  Indeed she had, and anybody who has had a night out ruined by the embarrassing squabbling of partners across a restaurant table will echo these sentiments.  What Mary cannot understand is the fact that love cannot be negotiated or contracted for: and this forms a great theme that runs through all of Jane Austen's novels.  It illustrates a way of thinking still present in some strata of English society today (if you don't believe me, check out the history of the Queen's children):  one marries for social, financial and/or dynastic reasons, and then sorts out one's love life afterwards.  Lady Anne Darcy and Lady Catherine were doing nothing outrageous when they planned the marriage of their children 'while they were in their cradles'.  Catherine Moreland 'hates the idea of one fortune looking out for another.' Emma Woodhouse, while justly distaining Mr Elton for the defects of the man himself, does not forget to consider the impudence of his proposals, in social terms.

I could go on and on, but somebody's just driving up with a goat for me.
Julie

Dear John,

I was rather hoping the little horror would be run over by a passing carriage or something.
Julie

Dear Ashton,

In the December surprise link there will be found some paintings by Turner, who was born in same miraculous year as Jane Austen.

If you look at these paintings (and many more at the Tate Gallery site) you will see what Turner meant by his principle of the sublime, the contrasting of light and dark.

Jane Austen must have heard a good deal about Turner's paintings and may have seen some of them at the Royal Academy. She may even have discussed the the principle of the sublime.

The discussion of drawing in the walk to Beechy Cliff may have been influenced by this principle, although without stronger evidence it is unsound to do more than a brief speculation. In her letter about finishing a novel (P&P?), she wrote that the novel required shade. A drawing mistress may not mean the sublime, of course, but merely a means of "bringing out" the subject of the drawing.

Dear Folks,

I begin with the first article of faith of a true Janite: There are no wasted words in a Jane Austen novel; every smidgen of every passage has a purpose! For that reason, Anielka is quite correct in looking at the sequence of events surrounding the gift of the necklace. I never thought of that before; although, in future, I will speak of it with such ease that it will almost seem my idea.

Anielka is quite correct in stating that the necklace was given before Crawford told Mary of his intention of marrying Fanny Price. However, the event that came before the gift was Crawford's announcement to Mary that he intended to "put a small hole in Fanny Price's heart", to seduce Fanny. So, the sequence is (1) Henry announces his plan to seduce Fanny; (2) Mary makes her gift to Fanny; and, (3) Crawford announces his plan to marry Fanny. In other words, Mary is lending her aid to her brother for the seduction.

I believe that Jane Austen makes all this very explicit when she writes this line for Mary Crawford in response to Crawford's announcement that he now loves Fanny and wishes to marry her.

"...'Your wicked project upon her peace turns out a clever thought indeed. You will both find your good in it' "

Mary is a good sister, she will aid her brother in any possible way - in any good endeavor or in a wicked project upon someone's peace. Did someone say Dangerous Liaisons?

Dear Ashton,

The small logistical hole in the argument is.....where does it ever say "So Henry gave this necklace to Mary and said "OK, tell her a couple of lies about how long you've had it and how you've worn it before etc./ etc. and get her to accept and wear it" or "So Henry said to his sister "Mary, would you mind giving her a necklace I gave to you about three years ago? I haven't seen you wear it much so it's no big deal. That will allow me to place her under an obligation".

Yes, it may be that there was a plan. But it still makes Mary Crawford a liar. And a bit of an odd woman too. If my brother said to me "I don't really fancy that rather quiet woman that is within our circle of acquaintances but I would like to make her fancy me and pierce a small hole in her heart. What say you give her a piece of jewellery I gave you three years ago?" I might agree to do it, but what would be the point if he didn't then make any capital of it ie. use the necklace when trying to persuade said girl to subsequently marry him?

It could be one of the rare pieces of evidence that actually point to Henry's reform. Yes, he had made the Necklace Plan with Mary in order to pierce a hole in Fanny's heart but in the interim had fallen in love with her and so does not mention it because he knows it would not be "right" to use gift-induced obligation. But that argument rather falls to pieces as he certainly does use William's promotion to induce Fanny's obligation.

A more exciting possibility is that it exposes Mary not only as a liar but as a manipulator. It is Mary that announces the supposed origin of the necklace to Fanny after Henry's proposal has been refused so it is quite possible that it is another lie of her own invention. It is quite possible that she gave the gift to Fanny with a more self-motivated desire to place Fanny under an obligation to her, Mary. Perhaps even to draw Fanny to herself as a friend in direct competition with Henry. Many people have asserted how the Crawfords were a good brother and sister. I am not convinced and I think I will have a reread and see if there is any evidence of sibling rivalry.

All this is beginning to make me think that JA has very subtley left us a few clues to Mary's real character: superficially amiable and charming but underneath, a manipulating liar.

The more I think about this whole necklace thing the more I think there is something to it that I am missing. I remember exactly where I was sitting in my room at home when I first read this book twenty years ago and thinking "something doesn't quite add up here. Mary seems so generous but somehow......odd". Twenty years later I am still puzzled by the same question. I absolutely cannot fathom Mary's motivations or ascribe a character to her that will allow me to predict how she will behave in a given circumstance. What is the depth of her fraternal affection? What lengths will she go to help Henry and to what extent is she actually furthering her own interests? Why would you be so keen on a brother who was a favourite where you were not and has refused to let you live in his home? I would love to hear everyone's opinions. I would be particularly interested if anyone can spot any other examples of times that Mary must be lying.  Also interested in specific incidents where Henry and Mary are either particularly kind or unkind to one another.

On a lighter note I have just discovered that Mr. Elton's bride's brother-in-law's ridiculous name of "Suckling" was in fact Nelson's mother's maiden-name. No relevance to anything at all but amused me for some unknown reason.

To Everyone,

Anielka's posting of 12/5/99 addresses the name "Suckling". Whenever I've read the name I've always thought of supper. But, and it may not pertain, Sir John Suckling (1609/1642) is usually credited as being the inventor of the game of cribbage. Actually, he was probably the codifier of the game. John Suckling was described as being the "greatest gallant of his time" and was a poet-soldier. He committed suicide in France after being implicated in a ploy to rescue the Earl of Stafford from the Tower of London.

Nowadays, in the U.S. at least, cribbage is considered to be a rather sedate game played in New England, but it was once a gambling game. In fact, it was the game that ruined Little Nell's grandfather in Dickens' The Old Curiousity Shop.

Perhaps JA was thinking of Sir John when she chose the name "Suckling."

Bye the way, anyone interested in learning more about the games played in JA's novels would do well to consult David Parlett's A History of Card Games and A History of Board Games. Why should dancing get all the attention as a past time?

Dear Anielka,

Although I do not see any possible rivalry between the Crawfords I must thank you for a very likely motive for Mary's desiring Fanny as a very close friend and sister, besides the fact that she wishes Fanny to marry Henry and she wishes for a sister nearer her own age than Mrs Grant, and wishes that sister to be Fanny.

Should Fanny become Mrs Crawford, then she could invite Mary to make the then common long visits to Henry's place, which Henry does not at this time allow.

You do see the plan? Then, even if Edmund has little money, he and she could stay at Sir Thomas's London place, where she could act as Sir Thomas's hostess and play the lady bountiful, during the Season when Parliament is in session), at Henry's and Fanny's home in the Autumn, and at Mansfield Park during the summers. You do see that this a splendid scheme?

The marriages of Henry and Fanny and Edmund and Mary would keep the Crawfords close, provide the London Season that is important to Mary's desired future life, and secure as her sister the woman she desires as a close friend. Elizabeth Bennet has Jane and Charlotte, and Georgiana. Mary has no one except Mrs Grant, who perhaps not such a stern lecturer as Lydia found her Aunt Gardiner to be, is nevertheless openly concerned in her home that Mary is not such a devoted Christian as she should wish. Mary is too pragmatic.

Thank you, Anielka, for jogging my memory about half-remembered things.

From the Meister: You are the nicest person at this web site. You
are the male equivalent of Jane Bennet. We need you because
there are too many hard-asses around here - a long list
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