A Contrary Wind: a variation on Mansfield Park (Mansfield Trilogy Book 1)

power was only a glare: a stifling, sickly glare, serving but to bring forward stains and dirt that might otherwise have slept. There was neither health nor gaiety in sunshine in a town. She sat in a blaze of oppressive heat, in a cloud of moving dust, and her eyes could only wander from the walls, marked by her father's head, to the table cut and notched by her brothers, where stood the tea-board never thoroughly cleaned, the cups and saucers wiped in streaks, the milk a mixture of motes floating in thin blue, and the bread and butter growing every minute more greasy than even [the servant] Rebecca's hands had first produced it.

In contrast to the “light, and bright, and sparkling” Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park is more serious and more reflective. Author Robert Rodi makes the point that in other Jane Austen novels, the villains and cads are not punished—they get off scot-free. Lucy Steele becomes the wealthy Mrs. Robert Ferrars, the seducer Wickham is paid off, and Mrs. Elton, General Tilney and William Elliott go about their merry ways. In Mansfield Park, Austen created a charming brother and sister team who hover on the brink of redemption, then destroy their own chances, and Maria Bertram, who is exiled to a small cottage with her aunt Norris. This outcome is closer to the formula for tragedy, rather than comedy, and certainly Mansfield Park has more of a dark, moralizing strain in it, thanks to those indefatigable moralizers, Fanny Price and Edmund Bertram.

Yet, the novel is also filled with irresistible comic touches. The opening might seem staid, an exposition of the marriages made by three sisters, whom we don’t yet know and therefore can’t care much about, but the opening paragraph ends with this bit of quiet hilarity:

Lady Bertram, who was a woman of very tranquil feelings, and a temper remarkably easy and indolent, would have contented herself with merely giving up her sister [for having made an imprudent marriage], and thinking no more of the matter; but Mrs. Norris had a spirit of activity, which could not be satisfied till she had written a long and angry letter to [this third sister], to point out the folly of her conduct, and threaten her with all its possible ill consequences. Mrs. Price, in her turn, was injured and angry; and an answer, which comprehended each sister in its bitterness, and bestowed such very disrespectful reflections on the pride of Sir Thomas as Mrs. Norris could not possibly keep to herself, put an end to all intercourse between them for a considerable period.

Or here is Lady Bertram, who can always be relied upon to say something, all unawares, that punctures the delusions and hypocrisy of her older sister. Mrs. Norris is describing her nieces Maria and Julia as being perfect little angels, from whom Fanny will benefit just by being around:

“That is exactly what I think,” cried Mrs. Norris, “and what I was saying to my husband this morning. It will be an education for the child, said I, only being with her cousins; if Miss Lee taught her nothing, she would learn to be good and clever from [Maria and Julia].”

“I hope she will not tease my poor pug,” said Lady Bertram; “I have but just got Julia to leave it alone.”

Or picture Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris gossiping about the wife of the new parson; Lady Bertram is surprised that such a plain woman has made such a good marriage, and Mrs. Norris thinks she’s an imprudent housekeeper. These opinions had been hardly canvassed a year before another event arose of such importance in the family, as might fairly claim some place in the thoughts and conversation of the ladies.

It’s a leisurely book. For example, Austen uses over 2,300 words—almost the length of a short story—to discuss how Fanny will not go to live with Mrs. Norris in the White house after her husband dies. Or 14 paragraphs are devoted to an entertaining conversation about young ladies who change personalities when they “come out” in society, but it’s just a conversation, it’s not a plot point. However, in these passages, which are chiefly dialogue, Austen establishes characters and their relationships to one another. In the first passage I mentioned, we get our first sample of Edmund Bertram’s dry wit, and we learn that while he is intelligent, good-natured and kind, he sometimes wears rose-coloured glasses. We also become better acquainted with the selfish hypocrisy of Mrs. Norris and the complacency of her sister. In the second passage, Edmund is the plain-spoken third wheel in a witty exchange between Mary Crawford and his older brother Tom Bertram. This conversation helps us to appreciate the contrast between the brothers. We see Tom’s charm and superficiality versus Edmund’s quiet maturity.

Let me go on record as saying that I like Edmund Bertram. He can be a prig, but he does have a nice quiet wit, and he is presented as the only one of the four Bertram siblings who is not totally selfish and self-absorbed. The exigencies of the plot require that he be blind to Henry Crawford’s seduction of his sisters, to Fanny’s love for him, and to Mary’s true character, so this puts him in the awkward position of being a bit of a dolt, really, but if we can forgive Emma Woodhouse for her blindness, we should be able to forgive Edmund Bertram.

Referring to Mansfield Park in a letter to her sister Cassandra, Jane Austen wrote, “Now I will try to write of something else; —it shall be a complete change of subject—Ordination.” We should bear in mind that Edmund’s choice to become a clergyman is a central conflict in the plot, and he deserves our sympathy for the sacrifice he must make to become a clergyman—he will lose the woman he loves. He does not give free rein to his emotions—he is like buttoned-down Elinor Dashwood in that