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Mr. Frank Churchill did not come. When the time proposed drew near, Mrs.
Weston's fears were justified in the arrival of a letter of excuse. For
the present, he could not be spared, to his "very great mortification and
regret; but still he looked forward with the hope of coming to Randalls at
no distant period."
Mrs. Weston was exceedingly disappointed—much more disappointed, in
fact, than her husband, though her dependence on seeing the young man had
been so much more sober: but a sanguine temper, though for ever expecting
more good than occurs, does not always pay for its hopes by any
proportionate depression. It soon flies over the present failure, and
begins to hope again. For half an hour Mr. Weston was surprized and sorry;
but then he began to perceive that Frank's coming two or three months
later would be a much better plan; better time of year; better weather;
and that he would be able, without any doubt, to stay considerably longer
with them than if he had come sooner.
These feelings rapidly restored his comfort, while Mrs. Weston, of a more
apprehensive disposition, foresaw nothing but a repetition of excuses and
delays; and after all her concern for what her husband was to suffer,
suffered a great deal more herself.
Emma was not at this time in a state of spirits to care really about Mr.
Frank Churchill's not coming, except as a disappointment at Randalls. The
acquaintance at present had no charm for her. She wanted, rather, to be
quiet, and out of temptation; but still, as it was desirable that she
should appear, in general, like her usual self, she took care to express
as much interest in the circumstance, and enter as warmly into Mr. and
Mrs. Weston's disappointment, as might naturally belong to their
She was the first to announce it to Mr. Knightley; and exclaimed quite as
much as was necessary, (or, being acting a part, perhaps rather more,) at
the conduct of the Churchills, in keeping him away. She then proceeded to
say a good deal more than she felt, of the advantage of such an addition
to their confined society in Surry; the pleasure of looking at somebody
new; the gala-day to Highbury entire, which the sight of him would have
made; and ending with reflections on the Churchills again, found herself
directly involved in a disagreement with Mr. Knightley; and, to her great
amusement, perceived that she was taking the other side of the question
from her real opinion, and making use of Mrs. Weston's arguments against
"The Churchills are very likely in fault," said Mr. Knightley, coolly;
"but I dare say he might come if he would."
"I do not know why you should say so. He wishes exceedingly to come; but
his uncle and aunt will not spare him."
"I cannot believe that he has not the power of coming, if he made a point
of it. It is too unlikely, for me to believe it without proof."
"How odd you are! What has Mr. Frank Churchill done, to make you suppose
him such an unnatural creature?"
"I am not supposing him at all an unnatural creature, in suspecting that
he may have learnt to be above his connexions, and to care very little for
any thing but his own pleasure, from living with those who have always set
him the example of it. It is a great deal more natural than one could
wish, that a young man, brought up by those who are proud, luxurious, and
selfish, should be proud, luxurious, and selfish too. If Frank Churchill
had wanted to see his father, he would have contrived it between September
and January. A man at his age—what is he?—three or
four-and-twenty—cannot be without the means of doing as much as
that. It is impossible."
"That's easily said, and easily felt by you, who have always been your own
master. You are the worst judge in the world, Mr. Knightley, of the
difficulties of dependence. You do not know what it is to have tempers to
"It is not to be conceived that a man of three or four-and-twenty should
not have liberty of mind or limb to that amount. He cannot want money—he
cannot want leisure. We know, on the contrary, that he has so much of
both, that he is glad to get rid of them at the idlest haunts in the
kingdom. We hear of him for ever at some watering-place or other. A little
while ago, he was at Weymouth. This proves that he can leave the
"Yes, sometimes he can."
"And those times are whenever he thinks it worth his while; whenever there
is any temptation of pleasure."
"It is very unfair to judge of any body's conduct, without an intimate
knowledge of their situation. Nobody, who has not been in the interior of
a family, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that family
may be. We ought to be acquainted with Enscombe, and with Mrs. Churchill's
temper, before we pretend to decide upon what her nephew can do. He may,
at times, be able to do a great deal more than he can at others."
"There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do, if he chuses, and
that is, his duty; not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and
resolution. It is Frank Churchill's duty to pay this attention to his
father. He knows it to be so, by his promises and messages; but if he
wished to do it, it might be done. A man who felt rightly would say at
once, simply and resolutely, to Mrs. Churchill—'Every sacrifice of
mere pleasure you will always find me ready to make to your convenience;
but I must go and see my father immediately. I know he would be hurt by my
failing in such a mark of respect to him on the present occasion. I shall,
therefore, set off to-morrow.'—If he would say so to her at once, in
the tone of decision becoming a man, there would be no opposition made to
"No," said Emma, laughing; "but perhaps there might be some made to his
coming back again. Such language for a young man entirely dependent, to
use!—Nobody but you, Mr. Knightley, would imagine it possible. But
you have not an idea of what is requisite in situations directly opposite
to your own. Mr. Frank Churchill to be making such a speech as that to the
uncle and aunt, who have brought him up, and are to provide for him!—Standing
up in the middle of the room, I suppose, and speaking as loud as he could!—How
can you imagine such conduct practicable?"
"Depend upon it, Emma, a sensible man would find no difficulty in it. He
would feel himself in the right; and the declaration—made, of
course, as a man of sense would make it, in a proper manner—would do
him more good, raise him higher, fix his interest stronger with the people
he depended on, than all that a line of shifts and expedients can ever do.
Respect would be added to affection. They would feel that they could trust
him; that the nephew who had done rightly by his father, would do rightly
by them; for they know, as well as he does, as well as all the world must
know, that he ought to pay this visit to his father; and while meanly
exerting their power to delay it, are in their hearts not thinking the
better of him for submitting to their whims. Respect for right conduct is
felt by every body. If he would act in this sort of manner, on principle,
consistently, regularly, their little minds would bend to his."
"I rather doubt that. You are very fond of bending little minds; but where
little minds belong to rich people in authority, I think they have a knack
of swelling out, till they are quite as unmanageable as great ones. I can
imagine, that if you, as you are, Mr. Knightley, were to be transported
and placed all at once in Mr. Frank Churchill's situation, you would be
able to say and do just what you have been recommending for him; and it
might have a very good effect. The Churchills might not have a word to say
in return; but then, you would have no habits of early obedience and long
observance to break through. To him who has, it might not be so easy to
burst forth at once into perfect independence, and set all their claims on
his gratitude and regard at nought. He may have as strong a sense of what
would be right, as you can have, without being so equal, under particular
circumstances, to act up to it."
"Then it would not be so strong a sense. If it failed to produce equal
exertion, it could not be an equal conviction."
"Oh, the difference of situation and habit! I wish you would try to
understand what an amiable young man may be likely to feel in directly
opposing those, whom as child and boy he has been looking up to all his
"Our amiable young man is a very weak young man, if this be the first
occasion of his carrying through a resolution to do right against the will
of others. It ought to have been a habit with him by this time, of
following his duty, instead of consulting expediency. I can allow for the
fears of the child, but not of the man. As he became rational, he ought to
have roused himself and shaken off all that was unworthy in their
authority. He ought to have opposed the first attempt on their side to
make him slight his father. Had he begun as he ought, there would have
been no difficulty now."
"We shall never agree about him," cried Emma; "but that is nothing
extraordinary. I have not the least idea of his being a weak young man: I
feel sure that he is not. Mr. Weston would not be blind to folly, though
in his own son; but he is very likely to have a more yielding, complying,
mild disposition than would suit your notions of man's perfection. I dare
say he has; and though it may cut him off from some advantages, it will
secure him many others."
"Yes; all the advantages of sitting still when he ought to move, and of
leading a life of mere idle pleasure, and fancying himself extremely
expert in finding excuses for it. He can sit down and write a fine
flourishing letter, full of professions and falsehoods, and persuade
himself that he has hit upon the very best method in the world of
preserving peace at home and preventing his father's having any right to
complain. His letters disgust me."
"Your feelings are singular. They seem to satisfy every body else."
"I suspect they do not satisfy Mrs. Weston. They hardly can satisfy a
woman of her good sense and quick feelings: standing in a mother's place,
but without a mother's affection to blind her. It is on her account that
attention to Randalls is doubly due, and she must doubly feel the
omission. Had she been a person of consequence herself, he would have come
I dare say; and it would not have signified whether he did or no. Can you
think your friend behindhand in these sort of considerations? Do you
suppose she does not often say all this to herself? No, Emma, your amiable
young man can be amiable only in French, not in English. He may be very
'amiable,' have very good manners, and be very agreeable; but he can have
no English delicacy towards the feelings of other people: nothing really
amiable about him."
"You seem determined to think ill of him."
"Me!—not at all," replied Mr. Knightley, rather displeased; "I do
not want to think ill of him. I should be as ready to acknowledge his
merits as any other man; but I hear of none, except what are merely
personal; that he is well-grown and good-looking, with smooth, plausible
"Well, if he have nothing else to recommend him, he will be a treasure at
Highbury. We do not often look upon fine young men, well-bred and
agreeable. We must not be nice and ask for all the virtues into the
bargain. Cannot you imagine, Mr. Knightley, what a <i>sensation</i> his
coming will produce? There will be but one subject throughout the parishes
of Donwell and Highbury; but one interest—one object of curiosity;
it will be all Mr. Frank Churchill; we shall think and speak of nobody
"You will excuse my being so much over-powered. If I find him conversable,
I shall be glad of his acquaintance; but if he is only a chattering
coxcomb, he will not occupy much of my time or thoughts."
"My idea of him is, that he can adapt his conversation to the taste of
every body, and has the power as well as the wish of being universally
agreeable. To you, he will talk of farming; to me, of drawing or music;
and so on to every body, having that general information on all subjects
which will enable him to follow the lead, or take the lead, just as
propriety may require, and to speak extremely well on each; that is my
idea of him."
"And mine," said Mr. Knightley warmly, "is, that if he turn out any thing
like it, he will be the most insufferable fellow breathing! What! at
three-and-twenty to be the king of his company—the great man—the
practised politician, who is to read every body's character, and make
every body's talents conduce to the display of his own superiority; to be
dispensing his flatteries around, that he may make all appear like fools
compared with himself! My dear Emma, your own good sense could not endure
such a puppy when it came to the point."
"I will say no more about him," cried Emma, "you turn every thing to evil.
We are both prejudiced; you against, I for him; and we have no chance of
agreeing till he is really here."
"Prejudiced! I am not prejudiced."
"But I am very much, and without being at all ashamed of it. My love for
Mr. and Mrs. Weston gives me a decided prejudice in his favour."
"He is a person I never think of from one month's end to another," said
Mr. Knightley, with a degree of vexation, which made Emma immediately talk
of something else, though she could not comprehend why he should be angry.
To take a dislike to a young man, only because he appeared to be of a
different disposition from himself, was unworthy the real liberality of
mind which she was always used to acknowledge in him; for with all the
high opinion of himself, which she had often laid to his charge, she had
never before for a moment supposed it could make him unjust to the merit