Sally Prue sends this email:
I, too, have read Claire Tomalin's biography of JA, and I disagreed with her analysis of all the books.You make two points, one about Mr Crawford, and one about the reality, in terms of their book, of fictional characters. This last is, of course, one that occupies me constantly as a maker of fiction myself. I see it like this. The writer has to create a world which will persuade the reader of its reality: now, this world will necessarily be very largely incomplete, but I must put enough in to convince my readers that they are experiencing something real (this is done by putting in only the things the characters notice) and also avoid putting in things which clash with the preconceptions the reader has of what I can only call the blank space in that world (the non-described bits). It's not quite as simple as that because, of course, fiction has to be surprising all the time, but the surprise has to be accepted willingly by the reader as a fault of their own understanding: i.e., there have to be clues which the reader accepts responsibility for missing or misinterpreting.
The writer is left with the insoluble problem that his or her conception of reality may be so far from the average (or normal) that most readers are unable to believe any of it at all. Claire Tomalin seems to have this problem with Jane Austen's books: she's only read the surface of the book, where Mr Crawford is indeed charming and amusing, and so his final disgrace breaks the "blank space", and the novel, into pieces. We who have read with more attention, though, were prepared for it. Mr Crawford's every impulse is selfish and often dishonest. Fanny sees through him as no one else does (he is a great actor, like that other selfish villian Willoughby). Mr Crawford sets Julia and Maria against each other for his own amusement (he is a sadist), and then he does the same with Maria and Mr Rushworth (a cowardly target: but then, Mr C is a coward, too). He has no respect for Fanny's beliefs, which are almost her only source of support. By the time he turns his attention to Fanny he has proved himself again and again to be insincere - and Fanny knows that without truth, there is no point in engaging with him in any way. Good for her!
I enjoyed your post, though I'd disagree with your suggestion that Fanny's character is formed to a significant extent by her removal from home. She's moved from a place where she's not valued except by one fraternal figure, to another, ditto. I think both houses would have had the same tendency to sap social confidence and to encourage deep thought in a naturally just and logical mind.