When did Thornton begin to think of marrying Margaret?

When did John Thornton begin to think of marrying Margaret Hale? The short answer is … we’ll never know. I doubt if even Thornton could pin a moment to the nascent thought.

But — and this is the fascinating part — we do know that the idea of marrying her was kicking around in his mind for quite a while before he blurted out his love for her in that ill-fated attempt to claim her as his own the morning after the riot.

And how do we know this? Because there are clues throughout the book which I’ll share with you.

But first, let’s recognize that courtship and proposing marriage were an entirely different ball game in the Victorian Era. It was entirely feasible that you could marry someone you’d only socialized with a handful of times. Courtship had one ultimate purpose: marriage. A man’s interest in courting a woman would indicate an interest in marrying her.

Now, we know from Gaskell’s story that Thornton is gobsmacked by Margaret at their very first meeting. He is instantly attracted to her. At the very least, he’s very intrigued by this woman. He has an interest in her. And he has never been interested in any woman before. Something about Margaret makes all his bells and whistles go off!

This first meeting with Margaret takes place in November, and Margaret and Thornton don’t interact with each other again until “early spring” when he comes to take tea with the Hales.

It’s his mother that openly hints at the idea of marriage between Margaret and Thornton.

“Take care you don’t get caught by a penniless girl, John.”

“I am not easily caught, mother, as I think you know. But I must not have Miss Hale spoken of in that way, which, you know, is offensive to me. I never was aware of any young lady trying to catch me yet, nor do I believe that any one has ever given themselves that useless trouble.”

Mrs. Thornton re-asserts a warning that southern girls may be looking for a rich husband, and he basically confesses that his only interaction with Margaret gave him the impression she would not be interested in him as a husband.

“Mother” (with a short scornful laugh), “you will make me confess. The only time I saw Miss Hale, she treated me with a haughty civility which had a strong flavor of contempt. She held herself aloof from me as if she had been a queen, and I her humble, unwashed vassal…”

Thornton is a man of reason and logic. He perceives that Margaret wouldn’t be interested in him as a husband, so it would be illogical of him to consider the possibility. Right? But since when do the longings of the heart obey the rules of logic?

Before he steps into the Hales’ house for tea we have to wonder: has he been thinking about her at all during those winter months?

I believe he has, for he’s scarcely stepped into the Hales’ drawing-room before he’s attributing the comfortable beauty of the room with Margaret’s nature! He’s only known her for half an hour and he believes he knows how a home with Margaret in it would look and feel.

Mr. Thornton likes what he sees. (all images are from the BBC’s North and South.)

And then comes the famous tea-cup scene where Thornton is fascinated with watching Margaret pouring tea. There is definitely a sexual attraction to her. Right about now he’s probably thinking he wouldn’t mind being “caught” by this southern girl!

With his mother’s warning about marriage echoing in his mind, and his senses enveloped and entranced by the warmth and beauty of Margaret and her cozy home, is it possible that the idea of having her for a wife wouldn’t cross his mind?

But any budding images of Margaret as a possible mate are fairly dashed by Margaret’s argumentative attitude in their conversations about the South and the moral obligations of masters to the workers. He feels her scornful disapproval of his kind.

And the next time Thornton has a discussion with the Hales at their home (his third interaction with Margaret), he doesn’t fare much better in gaining any sense of approval from Margaret. This time, Gaskell shows that he is desperately trying to get her to understand him:

“I know we differ in our religious opinions; but don’t you give me credit for having some, though not the same as yours?”

He was speaking in a subdued voice, as if to her alone. She did not wish to be so exclusively addressed.

[and later…]

“I shall only be too glad to explain to you all that may seem anomalous or mysterious to a stranger…”

Mr. Thornton paused awhile before he spoke…he was vexed at the state of feeling between himself and her.

You can feel his frustration here in this second argumentative discussion between them. If he had hoped to move himself up a level in her estimation, he was sorely disappointed. His attempts to develop this relationship in a positive direction are thwarted by Margaret’s moral reprisals of his business positions.

It’s during this second round of arguing that we catch a glimpse of how much he is interested in securing her attention for himself. Thornton’s jealousy flares up at the mere mention of another man’s name in relation to Margaret:

Who is Captain Lennox? asked Mr. Thornton of himself, with a strange kind of displeasure, that prevented him for the moment from replying to her!

Since Margaret shows no reciprocal sign of interest in him, Thornton is forced to smolder -- forced to keep his attraction to Margaret under wraps.

Ah, but a few months later Thornton lets slip a huge hint to his mother. When talk of who is coming to the dinner party leads Fanny and his mother to speak of Margaret in less than approving tones, John cuts into the conversation.

“Mother,” said he, stopping, and bravely speaking out the truth, “I wish you would like Miss Hale.”

“Why?” asked she, startled by his earnest, yet tender manner. “You’re never thinking of marrying her? - a girl without a penny.”

“She would never have me,” said he, with a short laugh.

“I wish you would like Miss Hale” sounds very much like a subdued confession as to where his affections lay! Notice that he didn’t deny thinking of marrying Margaret. His reply is only that she wouldn’t have him!

Mrs. Thornton gets negative points for her treatment of this soft confession. What a terrible comeback she gives her son! And she even grinds on about how Margaret thinks too highly of herself to have him.

Although Thornton is doubtless hurt by his mother’s caustic, careless replies, he shrugs off the conversation with this remark:

“Well, as I’m just as much convinced of the truth of what you have been saying as you can be; and as I have no thought or expectation of ever asking her to be my wife, you’ll believe me for the future that I’m quite disinterested in speaking about her.”

Again, saying that he doesn’t expect to ever ask her to be his wife doesn’t mean he hasn’t considered the consequences of doing just that. He has, and that is what he is admitting. His logical sense knows Margaret wouldn’t accept him. So he believes he can brush off the attraction to her at this point:

“I’m not a lad, to be cowed by a proud look from a woman, or care for her misunderstanding me and my position. I can laugh at it!”

But he’s not laughing when his passion for Margaret is roused into a furor by the events of the riot. After he declares his love for her and she fiercely rejects him, he’s sent into a spiral of misery.

It’s during his dazed and anguished walk in the countryside after his rejection that we see clearly that he did indeed carry a desire to marry Margaret for quite some time. And he’s kicking himself for letting his emotions overtake reason:

He went into the fields, walking briskly, because the sharp motion relieved his mind. He could remember all about it now; the pitiful figure he must have cut; the absurd way in which he had gone and done the very thing he had so often agreed with himself in thinking would be the most foolish thing in the world; and had met with exactly the consequences which, in these wise moods, he had always foretold were certain to follow…”

And there you have it. It’s possible the idea of having Margaret as his wife was planted in his mind the night he had tea at the Hales, but he kept the growing desire safely locked up in his heart, because he knew that she wouldn’t accept him.

Safely locked up, that is, until she threw her arms around him at the riot and he carried her lifeless body up the stairs of his home. Then all his logic couldn’t hold him back from trying his luck.

Although his attempt to win her hand that day was a disaster, maybe—just maybe—his impassioned declarations of love planted the idea of marrying him in Margaret!

Thanks for reading! Need a good book for Christmas travels or holiday relaxing? Check out the seasonal books written by fans of North and South HERE.

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Captain Wentworth & John Thornton and the agony of devotion

Whose heart isn’t affected by Captain Wentworth’s eight year wait for Anne Elliot? Eight long years! A man must truly be captured by a woman to wait that long for her.

Re-reading Persuasion recently, I was once again impressed at his unbreakable admiration and affection for Anne. Even though he is surly and proud about the breakup, he still loves her. He tries his hand at paying attention to Louisa Musgrove, but his heart is never in it. Tragic events bring out Anne’s amazing strength of character: calm in crisis, practical wisdom, sincerity, compassion, and self-sacrifice. He knows no other woman can compare.

John Thornton also witnesses the powerful strength of Margaret’s character, and never more so than during the frightening danger of the riot. Margaret forcefully insists he talk to his suffering workers, she doesn’t flee the situation but faces it, she follows him down to bar the door behind him when he goes out and races out moments later to try to calm the mob! And of course, most of all, she shields him with her body when she sees he’s in danger. Her prime motive in all this: compassion. From this moment on Thornton’s completely captivated.

The reader knows for certain that no other woman will do for Thornton now because Gaskell reveals his agonizing, stubborn devotion to Margaret after her rejection of him.

He said to himself that he hated Margaret, but a wild, sharp sensation of love cleft his dull, thunderous feeling like lightning, even as he shaped the words expressive of hatred. His greatest comfort was in hugging his torment; and in feeling, as he had indeed said to her, that though she might despise him, condemn him, treat him with her proud sovereign indifference, he did not change one whit. She could not make him change. He loved her, and would love her; and defy her, and this miserable bodily pain…

 All that he gained in return for his sixpenny omnibus ride, was a more vivid conviction that there never was, never could be, any one like Margaret; that she did not love him and never would; but that she - no! nor the whole world – should never hinder him from loving her.

So how much time does John Thornton spend loving Margaret without any hope of reciprocation? About two years! Two years of agony, trying to go on with his life without hope of having Margaret as his wife.

Captain Wentworth might have spent only two years without Anne if he had only swallowed a bit of his pride and returned to see her earlier. At the end of the novel he asks Anne if she would have accepted him after his return from a successful voyage (netting him two thousand pounds), a point in time two years after their breakup. Anne exclaims that she would have, and he admits that he was too hurt and prideful to try it – at the price of six more years of waiting!

Thornton, too, could have shortened the length of his agony if he had perceived any change in Margaret’s manner towards him. She was wholly in love with him at the time they said their parting words to one another in Milton, but he was still too hurt to see it. He had a fleeting impulse to ask again but suppressed it:

 “He started forwards…to hand Mrs. Shaw down to the carriage. As it drove up , he and Margaret stood close together on the door-step, and it was impossible but that the recollection of the day of the riot should force itself into both their minds. Into his it came associated with the speeches of the following day; her passionate declaration that there was not a man in all that violent and desperate crowd, for whom she did not care as much as for him. And at the remembrance of her taunting words his brow grew stern, though his heart beat thick with longing love. ‘No!’ said he, ‘I put it to the touch once, and I lost it all. Let her go, - with her stony heart, and her beauty; - how set and terrible her look is now, for all her loveliness of feature! She is afraid I shall speak what will require some stern repression. Let her go. Beauty and heiress as she may be, she will find it hard to meet with a truer heart than mine. Let her go!’

That mistaken impression of her feelings cost him over a year of loneliness and pain!

Of course in the case of both of these men, their long struggle and agony only added to the romantic drama of their powerful feelings. It’s tremendously satisfying to see their brooding faces break into joy when they realize that they were wrong — that they have been loved and cherished right back!

How to recognize a Victorian marriage proposal

Modern-day marriage proposals are generally very clear. The question “Will you marry me?” is put forth and the intended partner gives a “yes” or “no” answer. Sometimes an elaborate scheme is invented in which to make the momentous event a spectacular occasion which might be viewed by hundreds or thousands on social media. But still, today’s proposals include a clear question.

Ah, but if you were thrown into the Victorian Era you might be caught unawares that a gentleman has made an offer of marriage to you and awaits your response!

So how would you know if a gentleman friend or acquaintance is proposing to you in the Victorian Era? Well, if Gaskell’s North and South is any guide, you will know the gentleman has made his matrimonial intentions clear if he does the following:

• takes your hand

• declares his love for you

That’s it! This is how both proposals went for the unsuspecting Margaret Hale.

When Henry Lennox appeared in Helstone, she had no idea that he envisioned her as his future wife. She thought they were just friends. Surprise, surprise!

‘Margaret,’ said he, taking her by surprise, and getting sudden possession of her hand, so that she was forced to stand still and listen…..I have been hoping for these three months pas to find you regretting London - and London friends, a little, - enough to make you listen more kindly’ (for she was quietly, but firmly, striving to extricate her hand from his grasp) ‘to one who has not much to offer, it is true - nothing but prospects in the future - but who does love you Margaret, almost in spite of himself.'

Mr. Thornton’s proposal, however passionately made, follows the same basic technique: get a hold of the girl’s hand and declare your love.

‘I choose to believe that I owe my very life to you….and it doubles the gladness, it makes the pride glow, it sharpens the sense of existence till I hardly know if it is pain or pleasure, to think that I owe it to one — nay, you must, you shall hear’ - said he, stepping forwards with stern determination - ‘to one whom I love, as I do not believe man ever loved woman before.’ He held her hand tight in his….’’

In both of these instances, Margaret understands that she is being proposed to. She has apparently read and comprehended A Girl’s Handbook to Detecting and Rejecting Sudden Marriage Proposals. Those of us in the 21st century might have taken these rather awkward professions of love as a giant hint that the guy is really, really interested in dating us.

I confess that for years I resisted calling the scene at the end of episode two “the proposal scene,” since John never actually asks Margaret to marry him. The same with the book. Although the dialogue is different, the question of marriage isn’t posed to Margaret there either. The word “marry” or “marriage” isn’t even mentioned at all.

But I was wrong. I was judging the “proposals” by modern customs. Although I couldn’t discern a clear marriage proposal in Thornton’s passionate torrent of words, Margaret certainly understood that she was being proposed to.

‘Margaret began to wonder whether all offers were as unexpected beforehand,--as distressing at the time of their occurrence, as the two she had had.’

And yes! For heaven’s sake, whatever happened to the courting stage, guys?! Give a girl some time to get used to the idea!

So there it is, ladies. A Victorian woman may not even be aware that a romantic interest is forming in a gentleman friend or acquaintance before the proposition of marriage is sprung upon them.

And now— if you should by chance be swept back in time and catch the eye of a handsome mill master—you’ll be better prepared to recognize his marriage proposal.

Moving forward through the darkness

Searching for a gleam of light

There’s a tremendous amount of gloom and tragedy in North and South. Margaret Hale and John Thornton suffer great loss and struggle mightily to keep going, but they both find the strength to get up every day and continue on.

Gaskell’s story could be seen as a glimpse into the hardest three years of Margaret’s life. Seven deaths occur in North and South and all of them impact Margaret Hale. The four most personally felt—the deaths of Bessy, her mother, father and Mr. Bell—all take place within two years. Imagine suffering such a string of catastrophic losses at the age of nineteen or twenty!

Margaret’s first calamity is being forced to leave a beloved home. Moving to Milton is a harsh change for her, although there are definitely some hidden silver linings! But on the whole, things continue to worsen for her as her mother becomes more ill and Margaret finds herself constantly arguing with her father’s favorite student. Margaret’s main motivation through this stage of the story is to support her parents as best she can.

But before long, conditions and events in this new town begin to spiral completely out of control:

• Her mother’s health takes a turn for the worse.

• She gets injured trying to single-handedly stop a riot.

• Her father’s best friend suddenly professes his love to her.

• She forcefully rejects the town’s most eligible bachelor.

• her new (and only) Milton friend dies.

Margaret still keeps going rather bravely for weeks until everything crashes to a halt with her mother’s death. But even then, Margaret does not have the luxury to break down and grieve. The very next evening she takes Fred to the station and everything goes terribly wrong. (Poor Margaret is caught up in dangerous violence again!) Mr. Thornton sees her with Frederick and she is forced to lie to the police.

This is a dark time for Margaret. Feeling she’s lost the respect of Mr. Thornton, and condemning herself for lying, she has lost some respect for herself in the bargain. She moves through life with no cheerfulness, trying to help others. Gaskell describes this period of gloom poignantly:

The dreary peacefulness of the present time had been preceded by so long a period of anxiety and care — even intermixed with some storms — that her mind had lost its elasticity. She tried to find herself occupation in teaching the two younger Boucher children, and worked hard at goodness…for her heart seemed dead to the end of all her efforts…her life seemed still bleak and dreary. The only thing she did well, was what she did out of unconscious piety, the silent comforting and consoling of her father.

The last goodbye

Little did she know that this barren, calm period was only the receding wave, gathering in silence to unleash the final crashing wave of loss.

At the news of her father’s unexpected death, Margaret finally breaks down. She cannot rise from her grief and despair for several days. These are her darkest days, when she no longer has a family to live for, and is convinced she has lost the chance to have one of her own.

Margaret’s existence in London is almost mechanical. She has no heart for the life Edith leads and feels her soul revive only when alone with Edith’s toddler son or hearing someone talk of Milton. She spends several months in this mode of barely living before she searches deep inside to find a guiding principle to follow.

Mr. Bell’s sudden death causes Margaret to pray “that she might have strength to speak and act the truth forevermore.” To discover what that truth means to her, Margaret spends day after day sitting at the beach, contemplating her life until “she turned with all her heart and strength to the life that lay immediately before her, and resolved to strive and make the best of that.”

She returns to London with new vigor, taking “her life into her own hands” and acknowledging “her right to follow her own ideas of duty.” For Margaret, this means taking time to help the poor in London. Margaret finds life-giving meaning in helping others. It sustains her by giving her purpose, activity, and a sense of doing good. And although she still feels the pain of losing what might have been with Thornton, she has found a way to bring light into her life and move forward.

Of course Margaret is not the only one pushing valiantly on through a seeming tunnel of darkness. When we meet John Thornton, he has already passed through the signal tragedy of his life: his father’s suicide. The manner in which he and his mother fought through this deep trial to become outstanding members of society shows the great strength of character this man possesses.

But with Margaret’s arrival to Milton, the scene is set for Mr. Thornton to endure another great test of his strength. Her rejection of him shrouds his future in darkness, but he still has the mill to occupy his mind and the “stinging pleasure” of seeing her occasionally. It’s when she leaves Milton, that he is cast into a deep despair, as the famous scene in the BBC adaptation encapsulates so perfectly.

So, at the same time that Margaret is in London living a stoic half-life, going through the motions of life with barely any hope or joy—John Thornton is living a similar emptiness as he continues on without hope of having the life he truly wants.

Ah, but it gets worse. With the financial collapse of the mill, John is deprived of the purposeful work that keeps him going. Facing the loss of his lifework as well as the loss of Margaret as a life-partner, John stands on the brink of—for a second time in his existence—a deep chasm of darkness.

It is this battle-weary John Thornton that appears in my short story “Once Again.” I explore his inner struggle as he goes to London to sign the papers that gives up his connection to the mill.

My admiration for his strength deepened as I realized how much pain it must have caused him to see Margaret again, thinking she was destined to become another man’s wife. He could have declined the offer to dine at Aunt Shaw’s, but he must have been compelled to look upon the object of his deep passion once again. And so he goes to dinner….

I hope you’ll want to read how I portray his experience in London as he tries to move forward in spite of the gloom.

And what is it that propels him forward? It’s the same spirit that Margaret clings to: the desire to do right; the desire to be helpful to others. He won’t take work that only concentrates on the profit-motive. He wants to find work that will lift other men up in significant ways.

When his mother is lost in despair at the mill’s failure, she asks him what he will do—and he replies with this incredible, but time-tested battle cry in his darkest hour:

Be always the same John Thornton in whatever circumstances; endeavoring to do right, and making great blunders; and then trying to be brave in setting to afresh. But it is hard, mother. I have so worked and planned. I have discovered new powers in my situation too late — and now it is all over. I am too old to begin again with the same heart. It is hard, mother.

It’s because of the depth of darkness that both John and Margaret endure that it’s so heartening to see them find each other. We can feel how strongly united their spirits are. We know that the light of their love is going to be shining brightly for them through their future trials together.

Despite personal and global unrest, strife and tragedy—I hope people can find the courage and strength to continue their struggle for bringing out good in the world. We need each and every one who has a heart to help others to keep going.

We’re going to make it out into the light.

John Thornton's treatment of women

Where would John Thornton fit in today's #MeToo movement? As head of Milton's largest cotton mill, Mr. Thornton is in a position of authority and power over 700 workers, including women and children. But there's nothing in Gaskell's North and South to suggest he has ever abused his power in pursuing women or girls in his employ. 

And Gaskell doesn't shy away from telling about men who prey on girls. In Mary Barton, the son of a mill owner does indeed take advantage of his wealth and position to pursue a working class girl. He has no intention of marrying her, although "having" her would ruin her in the eyes of strict Victorian culture. And then, of course, there's the predatory young man of the gentry class who pursues and ruins a working class seamstress in Ruth.

We can discern what kind of a man Thornton is in this regard largely by what he doesn't do in comparison to these other despicable Gaskell men, but also by how he treats all the women we see him interact with in North and South.

Mrs. Thornton and Fanny

The BBC's John Thornton at home with his family.

Is there any other classic romantic hero who is surrounded by females at home? Thornton has had the strong guidance and support of his mother through the harsh years of poverty and social exclusion following his father's suicide. For years, Thornton had only his mother and his sister for his companions through the defining trials of his young life. Through the incredible fortitude and determination of his mother and the frailer, self-absorbed nature of his sister Fanny, John knows firsthand both the amazing capabilities and more traditional failings of womanhood.

Remember the old adage that assures that you can judge how a man will treat his wife by how he treats his mother? Although not necessarily true, there's much to be said by carefully observing how a man treats his mother. In Thornton's case, he makes it quite clear that he admires and respects the foundational moral guidance his mother gave him. He knows it was pivotal to the entire direction of his life:

I had such a mother as few are blest with; a woman of strong power, and firm resolve...My mother managed so that I put by three out of these fifteen shillings, our of which three people had to be kept. This made the beginning; this taught me self-denial. Now that I am able to afford my mother such comforts as her age, rather than her own wish, requires, I thank her silently on each occasion for the early training she gave me.

He speaks to his mother as an equal, and admires her for her strong character. He has less patience with Fanny's pettiness and self-coddling and has to command her to go visit Mrs. Hale and Margaret, acting like a father figure when necessary. But he also shows a father-like tenderness of heart in spoiling her -- allowing her to have a rather lavish wedding when she marries, despite the mill's unstable financial condition.

Mrs. Hale

Mrs. Hale receives some of the best fruit money can buy in Milton.

Mr. Thornton is deeply jarred to discover the seriousness of Mrs. Hale's condition from Dr. Donaldson. He hand-selects the finest fruit he can find to help ease her suffering. Despite being rejected the day before, he can't help wanting to offer a token of kindness and sympathy to his tutor's wife.

Martha

There's a little-known story related in the book about how John and his mother acted benevolently toward a young woman whose father (a friend of the late George Thornton) had fallen into financial difficulty. Martha, who works as a servant for both the Thorntons and the Hales, tells Margaret that she and her sister "would have been 'lost' but for Mrs. Thornton; who sought them out, and thought for them, and cared for them." 

I had the fever, and was but delicate; and Mrs. Thornton, and Mr. Thornton too, they never rested till they had nursed me up in their own house, and sent me to the sea and all. (Chapter 41)

Margaret

One of the truly remarkable things about Thornton's treatment of Margaret, is his respectful interest in her as a moral thinker. Although it's clear he's attracted to her physically from the very first, his interest in her mind is evident in the way he eagerly listens to her. As a leader of Milton industry, he could have easily been dismissive of what a young woman has to say about the management of his workers and the social imperatives of his position. But he wants to know what she is thinking and we find him asking her for her opinion at various points in the book.

We know his intentions toward the vicar's daughter are honorable. He wants to make her his wife, but she won't have him. At least not at first...

Looking for Margaret's opinion.

John Thornton appears to be set apart from the traditional male model of the time period. He shows no sign of using women for personal pleasure (see my article Was Thornton a Virgin?) or for social or material advancement. He's not looking at women as tools for his use at all. 

The Lennox brothers, by contrast, reveal elements of the traditional mindset. Henry Lennox assumes he can mold Margaret into supporting his interests. Edith's husband is eager for his wife to always look her best for his own possessive vanity and self-satisfaction. Women are a subordinate accompaniment for men, a side acquisition of sorts that men can train to suit themselves.

Thornton thinks more deeply about individual human value. In his discourse with Margaret concerning the usage of the term "gentleman" he explains that "a man is to me a higher and completer being than a gentleman" and implies that the highest indicator of a man's character and worth is not found in a comparison to others, but in the proof of his own endurance, strength and faith.

And gathering all the evidence of Thornton's dealings with the women around him, I believe he'd evaluate women the same way: that their value is not based upon their relation to others -- husbands, fathers, etc. --- but upon their own merits. Women are individuals, not props or playthings.

He'd make a great modern man. 

My Favorite Romantic Literary Heroes

These are the men who made me feel their pain when the course of love did not run smoothly. Both in the book and on film, these are the guys who suffered long and silently before finally winning their one true love. I adore a tortured hero, one whose devotion endures through much tribulation. So these few are my absolute favorite book-to-screen Valentines.

Who is your favorite literary Valentine?

---

John Thornton

Margaret may not have looked back, but we couldn't stop staring at this forlorn face. (Richard Armitage as the BBC's John Thornton in North and South)

Of course. Who else could possibly top John Thornton? No one reveals the agonized longing to be loved like Thornton -- both in prose and in smoldering looks. Thornton will always be my King of Hearts.

Awards:

Master of the Smoldering Stare

Dad-approved Spouse Material

 Kisser Extraordinaire

---

Edward Rochester

As tempestuous, rugged, and sublime as nature itself. (Toby Stephens as the BBC's Edward Rochester in Jane Eyre)

He's moody and a bit unpredictable, but once he's smitten by Jane, his passion and devotion are unwavering. Caught in an impossible situation, he makes a desperate attempt to secure his happiness. I love Rochester's good side: the man who was tricked into marrying a woman that swiftly slid into insanity but still took care of her; the man who took care of a bastard child not his own. His yearning to align his life with the good and pure Jane is heartrending. Whenever he calls out "Jane!" my heart does a little flip.

Awards:

Top Jokester

Skeleton in the Closet Winner

Most Likely to be Burned by Life (and fire!) Award 

---

Col. Brandon

A gentle kindness pervades this man's every word and act. (Alan Rickman as Col. Brandon in Sony Pictures' Sense and Sensibility)

I adore Col. Brandon's quiet selflessness. Patient, meek, but all the while a strong and reliable force for good -- I can't help thinking what a fool Marianne is for overlooking this gleaming gem of a man. 

Awards:

Sweetest Man in the Shire

Reliable to the Core

Will Buy You a Piano Even if You Snub Him Award

---

Gabriel Oak

Holding in his pain one last moment. (Matthias Schoenaerts as Gabriel Oak in Far from the Madding Crowd)

Gabriel Oak is the anti-Alpha male, which is why I really, really love him. Here is a man who patiently puts others' concerns largely over his own and is as steady and constant in his affection, purpose, and duty as any hero of more ostentatious fame or nobility. He's not rich, but has a character of gold.

Awards:

Nature Boy (Excellent with sheep)

Won't Lie to You Award

Still Loves You Even if You Marry an Idiot Award

The powerful effect of human touch in North and South

My stories have occasionally been criticized for making too much of the physical dynamics between John Thornton and Margaret Hale. Perhaps they do, but I take my cues from Elizabeth Gaskell's own writing, which conveys a tremendous amount of physical emphasis when describing Margaret's effect on John Thornton.

From John's very first encounter with Margaret in that hotel sitting-room, Gaskell makes clear that Thornton is completely discombobulated. Margaret's presence does things to him. Physical things. Things that affect his ability to coordinate and control his own body. He finds it hard to formulate complete sentences, he cannot stop staring at her, and when he leaves "he [feels] more awkward and self-conscious in every limb than he [ever had] in all his life before."

And that's just the first meeting. We haven't even begun to talk about what effect actually touching Margaret will do to the poor man!

First Contact

So, when is their first physical contact with each other? Thornton knows -- the handshake at the dinner party. The occasion is significant enough for Thornton to take notice:

He shook hands with Margaret. He knew it was the first time their hands had met, though she was perfectly unconscious of the fact.

He must remember, as we do, how hurt he was when she did not shake his hand when he came for tea. Shaking her hand now must feel like a small victory. It's far more than a mere social formality to him. It's apparently something he's been longing to do -- touch her.

The mini-series makes this moment -- this first touch between future lovers -- sizzle with a sexual tension that makes a Victorian handshake more passionate than most modern kissing scenes. And this spark of longing portrayed in the film -- at least on Thornton's side -- is perfectly matched by Gaskell's prose. Thornton spends the rest of that evening acutely aware of where she is and who she is talking to. There's definitely a strong attraction going on, which Margaret is not aware of.  

That Frantic, Brief Embrace

Far beyond a social handshake, Gaskell multiplies the physical contact a hundredfold when she has Margaret throw her arms around Thornton in a body-to-body embrace -- a shockingly intimate gesture. Granted, Margaret does this out of pure terror for his life, in front of a frenzied crowd  -- hardly the sweet, loving gesture John may be dreaming of, but that doesn't in the least change the enormously powerful effect that one brief moment of intimacy has on Thornton.

He can't stop thinking about what she did, how she wrapped her arms around his neck, how her body was pressed next to his ... he's fairly consumed with the longing to feel her in his arms again! 

Take note of all the impassioned physical reaction Thornton has immediately following that very tangible interaction with Margaret during the riot: 

"All the blood in his body seemed to rush inwards to his heart as he spoke, and he absolutely trembled."

"He went away as if weights were tied to every limb that bore him from her."

"Every pulse beat in him as he remembered how she had come down and places herself in foremost danger.... He went to his Irish people, with every nerve in his body thrilling at the thought of her ..."

I count four times in the twenty-four hour period after the riot where Gaskell specifically mentions his longing to feel that touch again:

Mr. Thornton remained in the dining-room, trying to think of the business he had to do at the police-office, and in reality thinking of Margaret. Everything seemed dim and vague beyond - behind - besides the touch of her arms round his neck -- the soft clinging which made the dark colour come and go in his cheek as he thought of it. (Penguin edition, page 186)

His heart beat thick at the thought of her coming. He could not forget the touch of her arms around his neck, impatiently felt as it had been at the time; but now the recollection of her clinging defence of him, seemed to thrill him through and through, -- to melt away every resolution, all power of self-control, as it were wax before a fire. (page 191)

Was he bewitched by those beautiful eyes, that soft, half-open, sighing mouth which lay so close upon his shoulder only yesterday? He could not even shake off the recollection that she had been there; that that her arms had been round him, once -- if never again. (page 205)

He went along the crowded streets mechanically, winding in and out among the people, but never seeing them, -- almost sick with longing for that one half-hour --that one brief space of time when she clung to him, and her heart beat against his -- to come once again. (page 210)

Where does all this explosive passion come from? In large part, from loneliness and years of keeping his emotions mostly hidden. His mother is his closest confident, yet we know she is not exactly the warm and fuzzy type to give out hugs and listen to all your troubles. If you really think about it, when was the last time this man was hugged? When has he last felt the warm affection of a heartfelt embrace? I'm guessing he hasn't felt human touch like that in years.

But clearly it's not just human touch he's longing for. John Thornton's frenzied longing is not commonplace lust. It's truly a longing to love and be loved in return. And it's Margaret that has brought out his strong passion. He sees in her an inner strength, independence, intelligence, and deep devotion to others that matches his own. 

His feelings for her have been silently accumulating. Her frantic embrace of him is the touchstone that releases all his repressed passion. It's as if this moment of intimate human connection has lit a fire inside him. Now he sees -- his body has felt for a brief, sensuous moment of time -- what could be. And he wants that close relationship with Margaret desperately.

Gaskell draws a very sensual image by having Margaret cling to Thornton. How many other romantic heroes get a taste of physical intimacy before they ever even declare their feelings? 

It's a touch that Thornton never forgets the thrill of. It reverberates through his whole being. It's hardly any wonder, then, that at the end of the book the first thing he does after they become a couple is to take her arms and place them around his neck -- just as he remembered she had done. Just as he had ached for so long for her to willingly do again.

Quitters are winners in North and South

Did you ever notice how the leading male characters in North and South all quit or lose their jobs? Mr. Hale, Nicholas Higgins, and John Thornton. Even more striking is the realization that they all do so based on principle. 

The entire plot of the story gets its initial push from Mr. Hale's decision to leave his life vocation. This is a tremendously serious and weighty decision in an era when your profession constituted your identity and your social status. I know many condemn Margaret's father for the way he handled his family in relation to this life-altering choice, but the choice itself is one of courage and personal integrity. Because he could not in truth uphold all the doctrines of the Church, Mr. Hale could not in good conscience continue to play the part of a leader of the Church. He was unwilling to fake it just to keep hold of his living.

Mr. Bell admires him for his hard decision and tells him so just hours before Hale passes away: 

[God] gave you strength to do what your conscience told you was right; and I don't see that we need any higher or holier strength than that; or wisdom either. I know I have not that much; and yet men set me down in their fool's books as a wise man; an independent character; strong-minded, and all that cant. The veriest idiot who obeys his own simple law of right, if it be but in wiping his shoes on a door-mat, is wiser and stronger than I. But what gulls men are!

Henry, who represents the mediocre mindset of traditional society, doesn't see why Mr. Hale couldn't have just swallowed his doubts and kept his position. He's rather perplexed that anyone should inconvenience themselves and lose their money and status over a minor moral issue. He apparently sees nothing wrong with playing the game of appearances.

...there was no call upon Mr. Hale to do what he did, relinquish the living, and throw himself and his family on the tender mercies of private teaching in a manufacturing town; the bishop had offered him another living, it is true, but if he had come to certain doubts, he could have remained where he was, and so had no occasion to resign.

If income was any barrier to acting on principle, Nicholas Higgins would have the strongest reason to avoid leaving his livelihood. With two daughters to care for, and one of them gravely ill, it's more than inconvenient for him to quit his job. As one of the Union leaders, he helps organize the strike. Here he's not only giving up his own job, he's actively involved in pressing other mill workers to quit their work! And his reasons are noble, if his methods are less than savory. He is moved to act in defiance of the perceived injustice and indifference of the masters to the struggling lower class. 

Higgins holds to his principles, even after taking on Boucher's children. He refuses to go back to work at any mill that refuses to allow the workers to contribute to the Union. Clearly, Higgins has the mettle to take a stand for what he believes is vital, despite the personal cost.

John Thornton's case is a bit different. He doesn't quit his work, but he does make a moral decision that precludes him from the chance of recovering his business. He refuses to join the speculation that could save his mill. He will not risk the money that rightfully belongs to his creditors and the workers. It's a heartrending decision that only a nobler man could make. His own mother is inclined to take the risk to avoid failure:

'I know now that no man will suffer by me. That was my anxiety.'

'But how do you stand? Shall you -- will it be a failure?' her steady voice trembling in an unwonted manner.

'Not a failure. I must give up business, but I pay all men. I might redeem myself -- I am sorely tempted--'

'How/ Oh, John! keep up your name -- try all risks for that. How redeem it?'

'By a speculation offered to me, full of risk; but, if successful, placing me high above water mark, so that no one need ever know the strait I am in. Still, if it fails.... As I stand now, my creditors' money is safe...it is my creditors' money that I should risk.'

'But if it succeeded, they need never know. Is it so desperate a speculation? I am sure it is not, or you would never have though of it. If it succeeded--'

'I should be a rich man, and my peace of conscience would be gone!'

Note that John's concept of failure is quite different form his mother's. Hannah, more like Henry, appears concerned with the outward appearances, whereas John considers it a failure to act against his moral judgement. He knew it that if he risked saving his position, it would always rankle him to know what he had gambled. He would lose a portion of his self-esteem and honesty. And so he felt he had no choice but to close the mill.

For Thornton and for Higgins (and to a lesser degree for Mr. Hale), the decision to quit involved not only an evaluation of the consequences for oneself, but for the responsibility of one's obligations to the community of people you are involved with.

In each of these cases, it's crucial to the ongoing plot that these three characters make dramatic decisions to quit their jobs. But more importantly, Gaskell is clearly emphasizing that the courage and moral integrity of these men is a cut above the common breed. It takes guts to quit your work in any era, but more so in an age when your role in society -- your very identity as a man -- is dependent on the working position in which you are engaged in. Stripped of their outward vocation, all three of these men must define themselves on a higher order. And they do. These men are moved and strengthened by their inner convictions of what is right, and their duty to others. They cannot act contrary to what their conscience dictates. Their sense of identity rests on something far more important and substantial than a job. Their true vocation is to think and act according to their individual convictions of honesty and justice. There are men because of how they form themselves according to their highest ideals, not because they perform certain ascribed functions for compensation.

Is it any wonder that these three men are friends with one another? There's a wonderful sense of warm camaraderie in the scenes where any two of these men meet in friendship and care. 

Photos from the BBC mini-series North & South (2004)

I love the way Gaskell forces these men to step out of the traditional evaluations of manhood based on social position and economic structures. She always compels the reader to look under the surface for the real individual - not defined by vocation, wealth, or social status. As always, Gaskell is pointing out our highest calling -- each of us -- as human beings attempting to live up to our best selves for our own and humanity's good. 

These quitters are winners in my book.

Why did Thornton visit Helstone?

"Were you ever at Helstone?" Mr. Bell asks Thornton in Gaskell's book, North and South.

"I have seen it. It was a great change to leave it and come to Milton."  

John admits that he's been there, but he doesn't explain why and it doesn't occur to Mr. Bell to ask. If Bell had been a bit more alert, Thornton's answer should have piqued his curiosity --because you don't just swing by Helstone! It's not on the way to anywhere. It's not on the railroad schedule. To get to Helstone you would need to take the train to Southampton, and then take a cab of some distance. 

Clearly, John has made a deliberate effort to visit the remote hamlet where Margaret grew up. If nothing else, it's a romantic gesture that shows how much he still thinks of her. He even picks a few flowers to save as a treasured symbol. [He pressed those flowers and kept them with him. How romantic is that?! There's a fantastic post about this here.]

--I've always asked myself what he is thinking when he plucks that one remaining rose from the hedgerow, and I can't quite define it. I wonder what Richard Armitage would say?

Before we talk about John Thornton's reasons for visiting Helstone, let me point out that the book and the BBC mini-series place John's journey to Helstone at different points in the story.

In the book, John goes off on a business trip to Le Havre about the same time Mr. Hale goes to Oxford. And it's on John's way back home to Milton when he apparently makes a point of stopping to see Helstone. It's been about nine months since he declared his love, and he's still struggling with the pain and loss of Margaret's rejection. He meets Mr. Bell on the same train to Milton and discovers that Mr. Hale has died. 

At least in the original storyline John expects to see and interact with Margaret again after secretly visiting Helstone, even though he expects that they will continue to have a distanced relationship. In the film adaptation, John runs off to Helstone for no apparent reason -- certainly he has no commercial affairs to conduct, because he has just closed his mill. Margaret has been gone from Milton for months already. When John is on that train home from sunny Helstone, he expects he may never see her again. That's pretty powerful. 

The BBC adaptation gives us a lovely visual of John walking through the sun-drenched open greenery of Helstone. It's such an astounding contrast to see the Master of Marlborough Mills, dressed in his usual sober work clothes, surrounded by the lushness of nature -- with not a brick or sooty wall in sight.

And here he is, tromping around the grounds of Helstone in southern England, without a word to his mum of where he has gone! I wonder how long he was away. Did he stay overnight in Helstone at all? That really would have troubled Hannah! Or was it just a long day trip? It would be at least 3-4 hours to get there from Milton, as far as I could figure, given Victorian train speeds. (In the book, he stays at the local inn.)

So why did he go there and what did he gain? Did it give him some closure, or did it only intensify the pain of his loss?

I believe he is gaining some closure by taking this pilgrimage. He doesn't intend to ever be 'cured' of his love for her. He absolutely knows that this is the great love of his life. He only longs to understand it better -- to understand her as completely as he can. That's why he goes to see where she grew up, to understand how her environment might have shaped who she is and what she must have experienced in giving up Helstone to come to Milton. 

It's this quote from Gaskell that illuminates the depth of his connection to Margaret:

He had known what love was - a sharp pang, a fierce experience, in the midst of whose flames he was struggling! but, through that furnace he would fight his way out into the serenity of middle age, - all the richer and more human for having known this great passion.

(And note Gaskell's punctuation - the exclamation point after 'struggling' really socks you in the gut.)

What do you think of that quote? He's bound and determined to get through this, although he knows it's going to be a tremendous struggle, he expects he will nevertheless be enriched by this experience. He can never see his love for her as a negative thing, even though he's not able to have that love returned.

Here's another quote to elucidate his feelings on that score:

Yes! whatever happened to him, external to his relation to her, he could never have spoken of that time, when he could have seen her every day - when he had her within his grasp, as it were - as a time of suffering. It had been a royal time of luxury to him, with all its stings and contumelies....

So his walk in Helstone was to understand more of this great love. For though he could do nothing to lessen it or forget it, he could try to understand what it was -- who Margaret was -- and why she had affected him so.

I think it speaks of great maturity to seek this understanding. He's not wallowing in despair or self-pity. He's trying to move on by understanding what has happened to him.

How wonderful that all his steadfast devotion to what Margaret means to him is rewarded at the end of the story! His love is certainly profound. No garden variety type! Maybe that's what the one precious wild rose symbolized -- that unique beauty and glorious character that was Margaret.

[If you remember some of these words, you may have encountered these exact remarks before! This post is largely taken from my own comments on this topic from the C19 discussion board.]

Only you -- romantic obsession in North and South

The film world's most romantic kiss.

The best love stories involve a fierce devotion and fidelity that suffer through time and agonizing circumstances. This is certainly the case for John Thornton and Margaret Hale. 

But what would have happened if Margaret and John had never cleared up the misunderstandings that kept them apart? What if they had never met at the train station (or in that back drawing room at Harley Street)? Would they have eventually settled into a mature complacency and have settled down to marry someone else?

All my romantic sensitivities scream "NO!"

Fortunately, I can find plenty of contextual evidence to support my emotional response.

So why do I believe John and Margaret's love for each other would inspire a lifetime of devotion? Because for both of these passionate introverts, falling in love was a once-in-a-lifetime event that ran very deep.

John Thornton

From the moment he meets Margaret, John is tongue-tied and dazed (see my post about this first encounter here). He's somewhere around thirty years old and he has never felt such a powerful attraction to a woman before. He's completely blindsided by the whole experience of falling in love; which throws him into a vortex of emotions that are entirely beyond his normal self-control. Falling for Margaret appears to entirely upend his regulated mental world.

Before Margaret, marriage was not on John Thornton's mind. From what he quips to his mother, the most eligible man in Milton doesn't even appear to be aware that women have been angling for him for years. 

"I never was aware of any young lady trying to catch me yet, nor do I believe that any one has ever given themselves that useless trouble."

Was he really that clueless?! Apparently so. It's rather painfully clear that John Thornton was not making the social rounds looking for a bride. And he doesn't seem to have any intimate friends either. He's busy. And he keeps to himself for the most part. He and his mother -- his closest companion -- don't share their deepest thoughts and feelings with one another.

So when he does fall in love, it's intense. And Gaskell lets us know it. Margaret is the only one who has drawn him out and fired up ALL his emotional buttons. And could it be any clearer that he's obsessed with Margaret and Margaret alone? Check out all these swoon-worthy quotes:

Margaret ... you are the only woman I ever loved!

I have never loved any woman before: my life has been too busy, my thought too much absorbed with other things. Now I love, and will love.

If Mr. Thornton was a fool in the morning, as he assured himself at least twenty times he was, he did not grow much wiser in the afternoon. All that he had gained ... was a more vivid conviction that there never was, never could be, any one like Margaret....

 

It's an all-consuming love for John. He doesn't dabble in cotton; he doesn't dabble in love. It's all or nothing for him.

Poor John is devastated by her rejection of him, and he's absolutely tortured by the thought of her being in love with another man. Even five months after his rejection, he discovers that his passionate feelings are wildly out of control.

....the very sight of that face and form, the very sounds of that voice....had such power to move him from his balance. Well! He had known what love was -- a sharp pang, a fierce experience, in the midst of whose flames he was struggling! but, through that furnace he would fight his way out into the serenity of middle age, -- all the richer and more human for having known this great passion. 

It's this stunning quote from the book that reveals how deeply he feels this connection to Margaret. He considers it foundational, transformative. He expects the effect of this singular powerful devotion to continue to reverberate throughout his life.

I don't think there's a chance he'll marry anyone else.

Margaret Hale

One of the most striking differences between Margaret and girls like Edith and Fanny is how little Margaret's mind is occupied in finding a husband. For a girl of marriageable age in that era, it's rather startling that it doesn't even seem to occur to her to consider Henry as a possible match. She's not thinking of Henry that way because she doesn't have any romantic feelings for him. And she refuses him because she cannot reciprocate his ardor. 

Margaret expects to marry for love (see my post here). She believes that when a man asks a woman to marry him, it should be "the deepest, holiest proposal of his life." Margaret is no flighty, flirtatious girl looking for the most comfortable option in life. She cannot accept his proposal because "her instinct had made anything but a refusal impossible." Her heart is not in it.

Although Margaret's journey to a deep-held devotion takes much more time to develop, the impact on her is still very powerful. She's attracted to John's strength, integrity, and honesty. And his passion for her, once communicated, frightens and fascinates her. By the time she fully realizes that she's in love with him, she cannot control her strong feelings and obsessive attraction any more than he can.

She knows she made a mistake in refusing him, and cries helplessly to think of the opportunity for happiness she has lost:

Some time, if I live to be an old woman, I may sit over the fire, and looking into the embers, see the life that might have been.

Poor Margaret also doesn't have anyone to truly open up to in her despair. She, like John, keeps her emotions hidden from those around her. This solitary struggle makes the longing for each other even more intense. They are both desperate for that intimate connection -- to find an emotional home where they can love and be loved without repression. 

Even after he declares that his foolish passion for her is over, she cannot stop thinking of him.

At present it seemed to her as if all subjects tended towards Mr. Thornton; as if she could not forget him with all her endeavors.

She can't stop thinking of him when Mr. Bell takes her to Helstone many months later. And she can't stop thinking about him back in London.

Henry is never an option. And when Edith talks about finding her a match, Margaret tells her "I shall never marry." She knows her heart belongs to another, and she will not live a lie by marrying anyone else.

Thank goodness for Mr. Bell's inheritance and Margaret's determination to help John in his business failure! It's a great relief to see these two love-sick creatures finally make those first sweet, intimate gestures that hint at the strong bond of love that has long been formed between them.