Mary Musgrove, often relegated to the periphery of Jane Austen’s Persuasion, emerges as a fascinating character study when we consider her persistent “whining.” More than mere comic relief, Mary embodies a complex interplay of self-pity, manipulation, and perhaps, a subtle commentary on the societal constraints placed upon women in the 19th century. This essay delves into the artful presentation of Mary’s complaints, examining what Austen’s novel reveals through this seemingly minor, yet remarkably memorable character.
The Comedy and Complexity of Mary Musgrove’s Whining
The immediate reaction to Mary Musgrove is often amusement, even irritation, at her constant grievances. Her complaints range from perceived slights to dramatic pronouncements of illness, all delivered with a theatrical flair that is both comical and, upon closer inspection, deeply revealing. As Austen masterfully portrays her, Mary’s whining serves a dual purpose: it is both a venting mechanism for her unhappiness and a manipulative tool to garner attention and control her surroundings.
Consider Mary’s very first lines in Persuasion, directed at Anne upon her arrival at Uppercross: “So, you are come at last. I began to think I should never see you. I am so ill I can hardly speak. I have not seen a creature the whole morning.” This is not a welcoming greeting but an immediate barrage of complaints. Austen’s genius lies in transforming a simple greeting into an accusation. “So you are come AT LAST” immediately positions Anne as being late, already placing her on the defensive.
This accusatory tone is a hallmark of Mary’s whining. Unlike Mrs. Bennet’s lamentations in Pride and Prejudice, which are often directed at circumstances (the entail) or a general figure (Mr. Collins), Mary’s whines frequently target those around her. She skillfully employs words like “never” and “always” to amplify her grievances. In this initial conversation, within just three pages, Mary uses “never” five times and “always” three times, each instance laden with reproach. She claims she thought she’d “never” see Anne, that Mr. Musgrove “never” returns, that the Miss Musgroves “never” bother with her, and that Anne “never” inquires about her dinner at the Pooles. Conversely, she “always” makes the best of her health, one “always” knows the Pooles’ predictable menu, and Mr. Musgrove “always” takes the front seat in the carriage, forcing her into discomfort. This rhetorical strategy of absolutes escalates the emotional intensity and underscores Mary’s sense of victimhood.
Mary’s complaints about being alone are particularly telling. “I have not seen a creature the whole morning” is a recurring lament, repeated multiple times within a short span. Even as she speaks to Anne, someone who has finally come to visit, she reiterates this feeling of isolation. This repetition, bordering on contradiction, highlights the performative nature of her misery. It is not just about being alone; it is about projecting an image of neglect and demanding attention. This echoes the broader neglect Anne experiences within her own family, as she is often treated as “nobody” by her father and sister Elizabeth.
The Art of Whining in Letters: Mary’s Masterpiece
Mary’s whining reaches its zenith in her letter to Anne at Bath. Letters, offering uninterrupted space for self-expression, become the perfect medium for her complaints to flourish. Every sentence in this letter manages to be both a lament and an accusation, showcasing Mary’s sophisticated manipulation skills.
Her postscript regarding her sore throat exemplifies this perfectly: “I am sorry to say that I am very far from well; and Jemima has just told me that the butcher says there is a bad sore-throat very much about. I dare say I shall catch it; and my sore-throats, you know, are always worse than anybodys.” Here, Mary positions herself as a unique sufferer, burdened with “worse than anybodys” sore throats. The phrase “you know” is particularly cunning. It appeals to Anne as a supposed witness to her past sufferings, while simultaneously accusing her of potential insensitivity if she were to forget or downplay Mary’s ailments. Furthermore, she manages to whine about a sore throat she hasn’t even contracted yet, showcasing her preemptive misery.
The letter continues in this vein, each sentence a carefully crafted complaint. She laments the dullness of Uppercross, contrasting it unfavorably with Bath. “What dreadful weather we have had! It may not be felt in Bath with your nice pavements.” The jab is clear: you in Bath are comfortable, while I suffer in Uppercross. This constant comparison and sense of being disadvantaged is central to Mary’s character. She fears others are having a better time, a sentiment evident in her anxious search for Louisa and Captain Wentworth on Winthrop hill, convinced Louisa has a superior vantage point. This anticipates the sentiment expressed later in the letter regarding Mr. Elliot: “I wish I could be acquainted with him too; but I have my usual luck, I am always out of the way when any thing desirable is going on; always the last of my family to be noticed.” This echoes Eeyore’s gloomy pronouncements in Winnie-the-Pooh, where misfortune is always his expected lot.
Her complaints about the weather extend to social isolation: “the lanes are wet and she has not had a creature call on me since the second week in January, except Charles Hayter, who has been calling much oftener than was welcome.” In one breath, she laments lack of company and then complains about unwanted company, highlighting her contradictory and ultimately self-centered nature. She even subtly angles for an invitation to Bath by questioning Mrs. Clay’s extended stay with Elizabeth, revealing her underlying desire for social validation and perhaps, a change of scenery.
Hypochondria and the Uniqueness of Mary’s Whining
Mary’s hypochondria is another facet of her whining. While characters like Mr. Woodhouse in Emma also fixate on health, Mary’s approach is distinct. Mr. Woodhouse’s health concerns are primarily about control and maintaining his routine. Mary, however, uses her health as a weapon, a constant source of complaint and a means to demand attention and sympathy. She blames her supposed illness on external factors, like sitting in the back of the Musgroves’ carriage, reinforcing her sense of victimhood and entitlement to better treatment.
Unlike other seemingly whiny characters in Austen’s novels, Mary stands apart. Mrs. Norris in Mansfield Park is more of a boaster and manipulator than a whiner. Mrs. Elton, also in Emma, is similarly self-aggrandizing. Mrs. Allen in Northanger Abbey, despite her repetitive concerns, lacks the “moaning” tone characteristic of true whining. Even Mrs. Bennet, while often complaining, has legitimate concerns about her family’s future. Mary’s whining, however, is characterized by its relentless self-pity and its primary function as a tool for manipulation and self-assertion.
“Ill-Usage” and the Legitimacy of Mary’s Suffering
Persuasion itself is preoccupied with the theme of “ill-usage,” a phrase that appears frequently throughout the novel. While Mary certainly embodies this sense of being ill-used, feeling constantly neglected and overlooked, the novel encourages us to consider the validity of such feelings. Elizabeth and Sir Walter Elliot also feel ill-used by their reduced circumstances, and Captain Wentworth initially feels ill-used by Anne’s broken engagement. However, these instances are ultimately revealed to be based on flawed perspectives or self-deception.
Is Mary’s sense of ill-usage equally baseless? The narrative voice initially suggests so, attributing it to her “Elliot self-importance” and a tendency to imagine herself “neglected and ill-used.” Yet, there’s a subtle undercurrent suggesting that Mary’s complaints are not entirely without foundation. Her initial whines to Anne about being left alone do reflect a reality: people do avoid her. Her husband leaves, Mr. Musgrove doesn’t visit, and even the daughters are kept away. While Mary’s behavior undoubtedly contributes to this avoidance, it begs the question: what drives her to whine in the first place?
The Roots of Whining: Neglect and Insecurity
The essay hints at Mary’s childhood as a possible source of her whining. Being the youngest sister, overshadowed by Elizabeth’s favored status and perhaps less secure than Anne, Mary may have experienced neglect. Even in her marriage, she might be aware of being Charles’s second choice after Anne. This underlying insecurity and feeling of being less valued could fuel her constant need for attention and validation, manifesting as whining.
Whining, therefore, becomes not just a personality quirk, but a form of communication, albeit a maladaptive one. It is a way for Mary to express her unhappiness, to protest against her perceived mistreatment, and to attempt to assert some control in her life. Her class consciousness and boasting about Elliot connections, while comical, also reflect a deeper insecurity and a desire for recognition.
Gendered Suffering: Mary and Anne in Contrast
Austen masterfully contrasts Mary’s overt whining with Anne’s internalized suffering. Anne, bearing the long-term pain of lost love and family neglect, suppresses her emotions, finding no outlet for her grief. This contrast highlights the gendered expectations of emotional expression in the 19th century. As Claudia Johnson argues, the legitimacy of suffering was often a gendered issue, with societal norms often encouraging women to repress and deny their pain.
Mary’s whining, while irritating, is at least an outward expression of her unhappiness. Anne’s suppression, while admirable in its stoicism, leads to a muted existence, reflected in her initial “loss of bloom and spirits.” Paradoxically, it is through the forced confrontation with Wentworth during her visit to Mary that Anne begins to revive, suggesting that even painful emotions, when acknowledged, can be a catalyst for growth and renewal.
The reactions to Mary and Anne further underscore this gendered dynamic. Mary is alienated and punished for her whining, while Anne is praised for her self-effacement. Even in moments of crisis, like Louisa’s accident, female emotional responses (Mary’s hysteria, Henrietta’s fainting) are depicted as less legitimate or less valued than male expressions of grief (Wentworth’s silent agony, Charles’s sobs).
Conclusion: Beyond Comic Relief – Mary’s Enduring Relevance
Mary Musgrove is far more than a simple comic character. Through her, Austen offers a subtle yet insightful critique of societal expectations surrounding female emotional expression. While Mary’s whining is undoubtedly comical and irritating, it also hints at deeper issues of neglect, insecurity, and the limited avenues available for women to voice their discontent.
By juxtaposing Mary’s whining with Anne’s silent suffering, Austen invites us to consider the complexities of female experience in her time. What Can We Learn From Mary Musgrove? Perhaps it is to look beyond the surface of irritating behaviors and recognize the underlying human needs and societal pressures that may drive them. Even in her most comic creations, Austen offers layers of meaning, prompting us to sympathize even with characters we are meant to laugh at, and to recognize the subtle ways in which social structures shape individual expression and experience.
References
Austen, Jane. Persuasion. Edited by R.W. Chapman, Third Edition, Oxford University Press, 1933.
Austen, Jane. Jane Austen’s Letters to her Sister Cassandra and Others. Edited by R.W. Chapman, Second Edition, Oxford University Press, 1964.
De Rose, Peter L., and S.W. McGuire. A Concordance to the Works of Jane Austen. Garland Publishing, 1982.
Johnson, Claudia L. Equivocal Beings: Wollstonecraft, Radcliffe, Burney, Austen. Forthcoming.
Milne, A.A. Winnie-the-Pooh. E.P. Dutton, 1926.
(Note: Page numbers from Austen’s novels cited in the text refer to the Chapman edition.)
