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THE HIDDEN VIRTUES OF FANNY PRICE - CONSIDERING JANE AUSTEN'S MANSFIELD PARK

 

Fanny Price is one of the sweetest heroines to grace the pages of classic literature, or so it seems to me. And for this reason she seems to be one of the least favorite ones, particularly among devoted Austen readers. A few of Austen's other heroines come close. (Anne Elliot of Persuasion and Elinor Dashwood of Sense & Sensibility immediately come to mind.) But it is unsung Fanny whose sweetness rises a degree above them all. 

 

She is not full of poise, as is her cousin, Maria Bertram. Her zest for social encounters is not comparable to her cousin Julia's. She has not the fashion sense nor the income of Miss Mary Crawford, which immediately recommend the latter wherever she goes. Her wit is not comparable to Austen's other heroines. There are whole scenes in which one searches for any comment other than the requisite, 'Yes, Aunt,' or that which is required by the polite society in which she lives. In short, Fanny has very little in the way of worldly virtue to recommend her to the society in which she moves but to which, by birth and temperament, she does not belong. But if worldly virtues do not speak for her, neither do its vices speak against her.

 

Fanny has not the slightest inclination to seek her pleasures in any of the pastimes in which her cousin Tom Bertram finds so much enjoyment. Almost excessively repressed and shy, she has not an ounce of the pride of life to which her uncle, Sir Thomas Bertram, has long companioned himself. She has no interest, is even offended by, the societal games long played by the Crawford siblings, who consider such games merely part of the natural structure of a refined life. She never defends herself in response to her Aunt Norris' disparaging remarks and prejudiced attitude toward her. And not once are we given even a hint of a suggestion that she harbors some bitterness toward her own mother who relinquished her to extended family to become something above a servant yet below her cousins' well-bred status. In fine, what does speak for Fanny, if neither worldly virtue or vice have anything to add to her character?

 

Fanny's heart speak for her. If any of Austen's readers will care to take the time to listen (as I am sure many have), Fanny's soul has much to say to recommend her to any society which desires to be about the business of doing unto others as one would have done to oneself. She is a stark contrast to the voices that echo in the vast cavern of modern philosophy. It only takes a few loud voices to create a cacophony of reverberating noise against tall walls of dark stone that passes for society today; and I am convinced these few voices no longer reflect the beliefs of the masses, who I believe are shifting from the personal law to do as thou wilt to return again finally to the golden rule. Do not most all of us love the sight of gold? In the end Fanny Price shines as pure gold to a family who thought they knew who possessed wealth and who did not.

 

In a world where women can do pretty much anything men can, morally speaking (or immorally, as is often the case), many modern women who read Austen for the romance I daresay would probably not understand the personality of this country mouse, of why she so diligently refuses to come to her own defense. But for those who read Austen for the entertaining relational dynamics, the subtleties of Fanny's style have a better chance of not being overlooked, as well as her virtues not being unappreciated.

 

Here is a child, after being cast off by her own family (with the exception of a beloved brother who goes to sea soon after she is sent to live with the Bertrams), does not hesitate to live with love toward her new family.

 

Here is a young woman who quietly, by contrast to their own status, requires the polite condescension of her female cousins who, unrealized by them, would likely have focused all their sisterly competition angrily at one another, rather than to see themselves bound together above a lesser cousin.

 

Here is a young woman, who, though never given reason to feel affection for the family patriarch, never fails to render more obedience and respect to her uncle than do three of the four of his own children.

 

Here is a young woman who gives only kindness and friendship to the elegant Miss Crawford, when from almost the first moment of their acquaintance, this woman possessed the power to influence and to claim the one Bertram who had all the feeling of Fanny's heart as well as the outer devotion she willingly bestowed on all her insensitive family, though rendered very gladly to Edmond and without fail to all the rest.

 

Here is a young woman who, seeking to exercise her very best judgment (and true spiritual discernment), is made to suffer cruelly by not instantly accepting the proposal of a man she knows can only bring moral harm to the Bertram family.

 

And here is a young woman, thoughtful yet bred, advertently and inadvertently, to remain silent, who could guide them all to better happiness in an instant, if only they would listen and if only she could pluck up the courage to speak. For we all know by the end of the story that should she, she would not fail to do so with the utmost tact and respect.

 

What recommends Fanny Price as a heroine? Fanny is recommended by this one word above all: she is a friend who loves at all times (Proverbs 17:17). As it also states in this verse, she is the little sister who seemed born for the adversity in the Bertram household, the one whose simple presence brings peace because she stands in the gap between those prone to antagonism.

 

I enjoy all of Austen's heroines, in part because they are not all shaped from the same cutter, as is so often the case in the stories of women authors of today. But Fanny has and always will remain my favorite. The waves of her soul-sea do not rage as they do in others', but I cannot help recalling that old adage when I think of her: it's the still waters that run deep.