Dear Sir,

I quite agree on some points, but not on others (wouldn't that be boring!).  I have always thought that the real reason young Miss Emma didn't take to young Miss Jane was that Jane occupied, in the Bates household at least, the position Emma was accustomed to hold in the rest of Highbury - with a couple of exceptions.  They had known each other since they were little girls, of course, and at home Emma "since she was twelve years old had been mistress of them all". In Mrs Bates' little drawing room, Emma had to play second fiddle (spinnet?) to Jane, which rankled, and continued to rankle into adult life. Emma is like a lot of clever people, whose talents allow them to shine easily, and with little effort, at a certain level. That facility is their worst enemy in matters of learning, as they do not learn in time that effort is needed for real accomplishment. Rather than be seen to be second best, they choose either not to try, or to try only in mediocre circles. We hear the echo of the child after the evening that the Bates and Miss Fairfax spent at Hartfield, shortly after Jane's arrival: They had music, Emma played, "and the thanks and praise that necessarily followed appeared to her an affectation of candour, an air of greatness, meaning only to shew off in higher style her own very superior performance". This really is a bit pathetic, and not far from Harriet's nasty little "and if she does play so well, you know, it is no more than she is obliged to do (as she is to be a governess)" - a "paid" musician, in fact, whose performance must always be below that of a "lady amateur".

Your idea of Jane gaining enjoyment from Franks's promoting the idea of her being in any way attached to Mr Dixon is not supported by the text - in fact, it is explicitly contradicted.  When they play their letter game at Hartfield that summer evening, and Frank offers the word "Dixon" to Miss Fairfax, this reserved, correct and outwardly unruffled woman is so upset that Mr Knightley immediately notices it. On thinking over what has happened, after the engagement is made public, Emma herself comments that "the delicacy of Jane's mind must have been materially wounded by the levity of his". Jane cannot understand how Frank can think of such things, and tells him so - "they will obtrude at times, but how you can court them ...!" Frank is a careless boy, with no idea how his overbearing sense of humour may hurt others, but Jane is an adult.

Their engagement, I feel, adds nothing to Jane's security, but exactly the opposite, which is Jane Austen's explicit point. Mrs Churchill was, though hypochondriacal, quite well, according to all who knew her, and the seizure that preceded her death was "of a different character" to anything experienced before. While she lived, there could be no prospect of marriage, and Jane's difficulties could only increase - she couldn't stave off governessing forever by pretending to have a cold. Frank's position was quite different. He had Jane safely in his pocket, and was at liberty to go where he wished, do what he liked, and enjoy the benefits of a large income. She had none of these advantages, and all the difficulties of carrying on a secret correspondence - as Mr John Knightley nearly discovers! That was why Jane chose to walk in the rain to fetch the letters - how would she explain Frank's letters to her aunt, or to her aunt's maid, for that matter? If they purported to be! from a female acquaintance - with a Yorkshire postmark? Miss Bates would have wanted to hear every word.

Remember, too, that when Frank knew and became engaged to Jane, he met her as a social equal, a point that is emphasised by Mr Weston - "when you knew her there, she was the equal of everyone she met, but here she lives with her poor aunt and grandmother, who have scarcely enough to live upon".  And indeed, in Highbury she is in a lower social position - invited with the other "less worthy females" to tea and not to dine - obliged to wait for someone else's coach, or to walk. This situation actually makes it difficult for the two lovers to meet socially - Frank has to invent reasons to call on the Bates' household, which is not the case with Hartfield.

I see Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill as very different characters as did, I believe, their creator - I wonder was Jane Austen thinking to some degree of her own family - Edward Knight, who was reared in a fashion similar to Frank, versus Jane Fairfax, the social position of whom, when with her family at Highbury, in some ways mirrored the experience of Jane, Cassandra and Mrs Austen "the dreadful cycle of dependence and gratitude".
Julie

From the Meister: Well said. I think
I will yield because I must. Except, I
think you greatly exaggerate the degree
of Frank Churchill's liberty.

The subject of Frank Churchill's liberty is under discusion more than once in Emma.  Mr Knightley and Emma discuss it before his first (delayed) visit to Highbury; Emma defends his absence, while Mr Knightley roundly repudiates her notions of his dependence - "he cannot want money, he cannot want liberty; on the contrary, he has so much of both that he is glad to get rid of them in some of the idlest haunts in the kingdom". Mr Knightley further states that a man can always do his duty, and that if Frank were to state outright to the Churchills why it was right that he should visit his father, their "little minds" would bend to his, and they would not object to his going.  "'Yes', laughed Emma, 'but there may be some objection made to his coming back again!.'"  Frank himself, in his letter to Mrs Weston at the end of the novel, admits that his decison not to come was his own, and made to tie in with Miss Fairfax's visit to her grandmother. Frank is, in fact, manipulative - having been reared by manipulative people, this is not surprising.

When he himself discusses his independence with Emma, he acknowledges his influence over his aunt, and states that "with time", he believes he could persuade her to anything, except on one or two points.  Emma assumes these two points to be overseas travel, and his wish to pay proper attention to his father - the second point is, in reality, his wish to marry a woman of no fortune.  His aunt and uncle appear to have allowed Frank great freedom to do that which a wealthy young heir should do - frequent fashionable places, spend money, and have a circle of friends of his own (though they were not welcome at Enscombe).  He would also have been expected to find, during this time, a suitably wealthy wife.  Having been brought up by manipulative people, it is not surprising that, in the finish, Frank out-manipulates them, so gaining his own ends.
Julie

From the Meister: Do you think him the most
manipulative character in Emma? (Trick question!)
Are we to trust Knightley's judgment on the subject
of Frank Churchill? You fail to deal with a crucial
point - is Frank in love with Jane Fairfax?

I think, in the manipulation stakes, Frank Churchill would probably have to share equal first with Mr Woodhouse.  Emma, of course, manipulates her acquaintances (or thinks she does), and her machinations make up much of the action of the novel, and provide for the story 'on two levels', but her efforts are benign, and harm herself more than anybody else (although poor Mr Martin has an unhappy time of it for a while).

Mr Woodhouse and Frank, on the other hand, really do twist people around in order to gain their own ends.  Mr Woodhouse, 'from his long residence at Hartfield, and his good nature, from his fortune, his house, and his daughter, could command the visits of his own little circle, in a great measure as he liked'.  And, by God, he does.  He uses his frailty and his hypochondria to rule all who come near him, and he pretty much always gets his way. One of my favourite parts of the novel is that at the end, when Emma out-manipulates him in order to achieve her marriage, by threatening him with the turkey-nappers!

Interestingly, when one manipulator meets another, there is no liking: 'Don't tell his father, but that young man is not quite the thing.' Mr Woodhouse and Frank both make no bones about twisting people around to achieve their own ends, and neither shows any real concern for those they are dealing with.

Does Frank love Jane?  I think he thinks he does, but, even at the end of the novel, he is too immature and egocentric for one to be able to tell what his real feelings are.  At least he is not malignant in the way that Henry Crawford is, for instance, or Mr Elliot. I am not saying Frank wasn't in love with Jane!  I am pondering his capacity for long-term commitment, I suppose.  I wonder whether he may have been a little like his mother, who "had one kind of spirit, but the best sort. She had spirit enough to gain her point in the face of the opposition of her family, but not sufficient to preserve her from unreasonable regrets once that point was gained".  (Not an exact quote, as it's from memory).
Julie

Dear Kate and Sir,

Kate, I read Miss Fairfax's character as a little more complex than that.  On the surface, she does indeed appear to 'put up with' and be 'put upon', quite a bit, but although she maintains a calm exterior, I feel underneath an almost unbearable tension, and an iron will, that maintains control to a degree that ends up making her ill.   We hear this spoken of, mainly by others - Emma comments to Mrs Weston 'that is a degree of placidity that I can neither comprehend nor respect', and Mrs Weston steps in to defend Miss Fairfax, describing something of the struggle that was occurring underneath.  And in the period leading up to the climax of the novel, Miss Bates and Mr Perry are both worried by, and describe, Miss Fairfax's illness, which today we would perhaps call an incipient 'nervous collapse'.

At her first entrance on the scene, she is described as being in poor health - had been so, in fact, since Weymouth - since agreeing to this secret engagement.  The much too short glimpse that we get of the real Miss Fairfax shows a very different person - 'Emma had never seen her look so lovely, so engaging', as she comes forward to shake hands and REALLY talk, for almost the first time in the novel.

Perhaps some of the reason for this fierce self-control and consciousness of 'always having a part to act' lies in the reasons for the argument that I now want to have with you, Sir.  You speak of Miss Fairfax losing her 'independence' on marrying Mr Churchill - I can't for the life of me imagine how you worked that one out!  Miss Fairfax was reared, however kindly, as a dependent, away from her own family.  At no time of her life had she money enough to buy her own food, clothing or education.  It was always acknowledged that she was to be a governess :  'the plan was that she be brought up to educate others, the very few hundred pounds she had inherited from her father making independence impossible'.  The first independent decision we hear of her making is that of deciding to marry Mr Churchill, under circumstances so contrary to her upbringing and training that the decision costs her her health and peace of mind.  She also has great responsibilities, ones which, in Jane Austen's own case, were borne by her brothers:  her aunt and her grandmother, who were poor, and in Mr Knightley's words, likely to 'sink further' - perhaps a reference to Mrs Bates' income, which may have been for life only.  Apart from presents of loins of pork and apples, Miss Fairfax's income, whether by governessing or whatever, was the only one in that family.  Jane Austen comments on how 'disinterested' was the two elder ladies' joy - thinking nothing of themselves, and only of Jane.  This I understand to be an allusion to financial support they may gain from Mr and Mrs Frank Churchill.

I ramble, but I must include one more example of Miss Fairfax's real feeling, underneath her self-control:  Miss Bates says how upset Miss Fairfax at Mr Knightley's sending the last of his apples - one can feel her humiliation, and perhaps the frustration of her dependent position - ' we didn't quarrel   we never quarrelled in our lives, (poor Jane!) - but she wanted me to make Mr Knightley believe that we had a great many apples left'.  I bet those damn apples almost choked her.
Julie

Dear Julie and Kate,

First of all, Julie, I never once suggested that Miss Fairfax lost her indepedence when she married. I asked if you thought that to be the case. The question was purely rhetorical because I thought it the logical conclusion of what you were saying and not a conclusion that you would want to own. However, the point is mute because I have deleted that paragraph from my initial posting on this matter. I did that because I realized that I was being more obscure that anything else and because it was a remark that detracts from the more interesting discussion that you and Kate have begun.

I am not so kind to Jane Fairfax as are the two of you, so let me explain myself. I start with some points that we might all agree upon. Emma Woodhouse lead a sedentary existence; there is no indication that she was ever very far from Highbury. To a great extent, this must be due to the fact that Mr. Woodhouse could not bare to part with her, even for a short visit to her sister's in London. Also, in part, it is unlikely that she was willing to leave her realm. She controlled her father and managed her brother-in-law and, even, her own governess. In fact, she was the dominant sister even though she was the younger. She was quite the local queen and, perhaps unconsciously, did not want to test herself in the wider world. Now, Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill were not little kids from the neighborhood. They were both mature adults from the wider world where they had been tested and not found wanting. Their relationship to Emma was not totally unlike the relationship of the Crawfords to Fanny Price - at least in the matter of sophistication. Jane Fairfax was better educated than Emma and she was far more accomplished in the fine arts. Everyone knew that, she was continually praised for these accomplishments by absolutely everyone in the small, country community of Highbury. Even Emma acknowledged that Jane Fairfax was more accomplished; that is why Emma was so reluctant to welcome Jane into her home.

And now the points upon which we might disagree. Frank and Jane entered into a conspiracy long before they came to Highbury - they were co-conspirators. They did this because they wished to deceive Mrs. Churchill. Both of them, Jane and Frank were unsure of their position and they were damn well determined to do nothing that might upset their prospects. I don't much care for either of them. The degree to which Frank consciously decided to use Emma to hide from view the true object of his affections is never made explicit. One thing is clear to me - Emma appalled him. Her conceit and pomposity were too much. The fact that she slighted Jane Fairfax and her aunt was not endearing to him, quite the contrary. The thing that really astonished him occurred when Emma related that she believed that Jane must be in an illicit relationship with her former companion's husband. Surely, all of us are appalled at that passage. He then began to torment Emma and he did that by pretending to torment Jane Fairfax with allusions to Ireland, Irish hair-styles, and to Mr. Dixon himself etc. Please remember that Jane Fairfax was perfectly aware that she was not in such a relationship and that those allusions carried no sting whatsoever. However, what did Jane Fairfax know and when did she know it? I think it perfectly possible that she was "in" on the joke and was laughing at Emma as well. That would hardly be to her credit. Jane, as well as Frank, was in a tricky situation but Frank's attention to Emma need not concern her; she was better educated than Emma, more accomplished, and Jane could reasonably expect to soon outrank her as well. Frank and Jane had their tiffs, hardly a surprise given the stress they were under. We are never told the exact nature of those problems; however, there is no very good reason to suppose that country bumpkin, Emma Woodhouse, caused their arguments.

Dear Sir,

I feel the need to discuss my favourite character of my favourite novel, even though I expect to be met with blank (figurative) stares:  Miss Fairfax, in Emma.  In no other novel does Jane Austen create and sustain a character like Jane Fairfax:  a positive female character, present in almost every pivotal scene, and one created in depth, but, withal, totally enigmantic, and only seen, as it were, at one remove.

The plot of Emma relies on the character of Jane Fairfax, and upon her actions and decisions, and I feel that she is a character whom her creator greatly respects, but we almost never hear her voice:  she exists as a shadow character, described and discussed by every inhabitant of Highbury, present in every major scene of the novel - which must have cost her some pain, as these scenes depict her fiance and her rival flashing their social and financial superiority under her very nose - but we almost never hear her voice.  Even after the denoument, she is heard more through Mrs Weston and Mr Churchill than in person.  Like Emma, I feel, "we are to lose you, just as we begin to know you".

I wonder how much personal experience goes into Jane Austen's depiction of this educated, intelligent and financially dependant woman, obliged in her Highbury life to be dutiful, grateful and retiring?  Read the novel carefully, try to ignore the privileged protagonist, consider Miss Fairfax, and tell me what you think.
Julie

Dear Julie,

Yes, my favourite novel too, and I do admire Miss Fairfax's patience and discretion in the face of such provocation from almost every quarter. But I can't help feeling that there's an aura of tragedy about her and I'm not surprised at what Ashton says is to be her fate. A born victim, I should say, who puts up with Frank Churchill's manipulation and misuse and allows herself to be made general sport of by him and is inclined to forgive rather too easily. Perhaps the fact that Jane Austen leaves the pair betrothed but unmarried is telling---maybe the girl sees sense before it's too late.

Dear Julie,

I have some remotely related thoughts and questions.

I think that I see the decline in Jane Austen's health reflected in her last three novels. It begins with Lady Bertram's (Mansfield Park) lethargy, progresses to the frailty of Jane Fairfax (Emma), and concludes with the invalid Mrs. Smith (Persuasion). And, of course her unfinished novel, Sanditon, was to be about a community of invalids. One of the chilling stories from Jane Austen's biography concerns Jane Fairfax. Jane Austen's nieces and nephews were always concerned about the ultimate fate of her characters and she would make up stories to entertain them in this way. She told them that Jane Fairfax would survive only another seven years after the end of the novel. Don't you think that an odd thing for her to say to that audience? Jane Austen's own creator would not be so generous with her - she would be dead within only four years after publication of the novel.

Dear Sir,

I think Jane Austen's state of health is evident in Persuasion, and most especially in the cancelled chapter, but I don't think that is the case with the two earlier works you mention.  For one thing, the progress of her disease was insidious and fluctuating, and I gather that it was not until the last few months that those around her realised she was dying. I can't agree with your assessment of Jane Fairfax as 'frail', either, though I know what you mean. I see her physical symptoms as a direct result of the emotional stress she was under, and her fierce struggle to control her feelings, and deal with her guilt at allowing herself to enter a state she felt to be wrong.

Mansfield Park, however, is different.  It has quite a different tone to the rest of the novels - there is not one happy household in Mansfield Park, which is not the case in any other work.  Anne Elliot is unhappy at home, but has the support of Lady Russell. The Bennet household, though probably fairly noisy, also possesses good humour, and the two elder sisters find companions in each other.  In both Northanger Abbey and Sense and Sensibility, the home lives are harmonious (though how anybody could live in harmony with Marianne Dashwood, I can't imagine).  But in Mansfield Park, all the homes lack any feeling of - well, 'homeliness'.  Edmund is the only child of the Bertrams who is comfortable at home. The Crawfords are only passing through, and have no real home at all, and as for Portsmouth!

Mansfield Park strikes me as having been written by Jane Austen at a time when she was less at ease  than when writing her other novels - was she undergoing some sort of mid-life reassessment of her values and faith?  She certainly created a lot of superficial, unhappy people, and she seems not to like many of them herself.  It makes me wonder about a possible clue in her correspondence with her sister, wherein she expresses her disapproval at the expensive tastes and customs of her brother Edward's house, and the ill effects she sees in his children.

Even Fanny Price and Edmund, whose behaviour and values she vindicates, are often found to be less than engaging by many readers, but I feel that she was using them to make what was to her an important moral and social point - the importance of family, religion and duty.  She had done this before, of course, but in this novel she is not laughing.
Julie

Dear Ashton,

"M and B" refers to May and Baker, a well known pharmaceutical firm who supplied Churchill's anti-pneumonia drugs. Sorry I was misinformed about the date of Winston's letter.

From the Meister: But - but - no message from the Pump
Room? I am disappointed on another count, I had hoped
"M&B" stood for "marmalade and brandy" - phooey!

Dear Film Fans,

Let me add my name to your number. I love film adaptations, sometimes if only for the pleasure of finding fault with them. If the adaptation has been done for television, preferably the BBC, is in several parts, and was scripted by Andrew Davies (as they always seem to be), my joy knows no bounds. At the moment we are halfway through a rumbustious Vanity Fair, which answers all the criteria.

In this country, adaptations tend to be shown in several weekly parts. This allows for plenty of time to do justice to the story, and also lets a large audience be sucked in--Pride and Prejudice attracted over 50% of the total viewing population of Britain. Such is the apparently unsatiable appetite for what are called "costume dramas" that there has been a fairly constant stream of them. In the past 6 months alone we have had Our Mutual Friend, The Woman in White, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, Tess, of course, and the "Hornblower" novels. At this moment they are making Mansfield Park not 10 minutes away from where I live.

This has given rise to a pretty heated debate about the value, or otherwise, of making novels into film. Today's "Times" has a typical article, part of which says:

The role of A&E has long puzzled me. We are indebted to them for helping to fund British productions which otherwise wouldn't see the light of day, but they don't seem to have any creative input whatsoever. Is this the case with them in the U.S. also? Who is making the adaptations of the great American novels, and why don't we get to see them here?

From the Meister: Actually, I think that A&E was the sole
producer of Tess; so, maybe it is beginning to strike out
on its own. It seems to me that Masterpiece Theater is
beginning to produce some American works now. Did you
know that Andrew Davies wrote the screenplay for Middlemarch?
He has written some things for the producer Sue Birtwistle
who, I understand, was once one of his students.

As for Jennifer Ehle, I singled her out for greatness well before she became the best ever Elizabeth Bennet when I first saw her startling, shocking performance as Calypso in The Camomile Lawn. Sir Peter Hall obviously spotted a dead cert when he poached her from stage school to do that, and I've heard he wants her for Maggie in Cat On A Hot Tin Roof at the National Theatre next year (you know, I suppose that she was born in N. Carolina?). Having already seen her on stage as Lady Anne in Richard the Third in Stratford-on-Avon I'm convinced she's going to be the next Diana Rigg, the sort of actress who can do just about anything she's asked to.

Meister: Yes indeed! I would be the last to miss the fact
that Ms Ehle was born in the United States. I think though
that she would prefer that we all think of her as an English-
woman. Do you have any thoughts on Samantha Morton? What
do you think of her interpretation of the role of Harriet Smith?

Finally, I'm in Bath again next weekend. Any requests?

Meister: Please, we all beg you, post some diary entries.

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