What Margaret Hale wears matters

The clothes women wear conform to the style, decorum, and cultural approval of the day. It was only a half century ago when women in Western cultures were freed from the stricture of always wearing skirts and dresses. Throughout the 1970s it became more and more acceptable for women to wear ….pants (gasp!).

Previous ages were far more strict as to what the appropriate mode of dress of women was. We are all aware that in the Victorian Era, both men and women wore what would be considered unreasonable layers of restrictive clothing today.

There were always choices, however, for those who had the means to purchase new clothing. And since Margaret Hale was a girl of the Victorian Era, she couldn’t overthrow the rules of dress alone even if she had wanted to. But she could, and did, choose to wear clothing that reflected her values.

Apparel becomes a focus in the very first chapter of Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South, where Margaret models Edith’s luxurious Indian shawls for Aunt Shaw’s friends. Right away, we discover that although Margaret enjoys and appreciates the beauty of these expensive shawls, she has no particular desire to possess them. She doesn’t feel a need to wear or have impressive, fancy clothes.

She is, in fact, exhausted by all the running around required to coordinate the perfect wedding for her cousin Edith, which undoubtedly included much shopping for an extravagant trousseau. Margaret, by contrast, describes her wish for a simple wedding with very little fuss. Margaret doesn’t see the need for spending time and effort over appearances. She hones in on the essentials of life - the meaning behind events. Margaret doesn’t dream of putting on a show for others at her wedding.

Thornton fell for her in this get-up?

Margaret Hale is very comfortable and confident in her own individuality. She doesn’t feel the need to imitate anyone or to draw attention to herself. She prefers to dress in pleasant clothing without much ornamentation. She’s a no-nonsense, down-to-earth country girl at heart.

Thornton notices her style at the outset when he sees her for the very first time in the hotel sitting room. It’s her dignity and commanding presence that strikes him, and part of this is conveyed in what she wears. She’s not dolled up in frilly ruffles and ostentatious patterns or plumes. She’s dressed simply and carries herself with a natural, self-confident pride. It’s this strength of character – not needing to dress in flamboyant style to feel important – that attracts Thornton. 

...a young lady came forward with frank dignity, — a young lady of a different type to most of those he was in the habit of seeing. Her dress was very plain: a close straw bonnet of the best material and shape, trimmed with white ribbon; a dark silk gown, without any trimming or flounce…

According to the original novel, when Thornton comes to tea at the Hales it is only the second time he’s ever seen Margaret. While he’s checking out the comfortable details of the Hales’ home, he is definitely taking a careful look at Margaret:

She stood by the tea table in a light-colored muslin gown, which had a good deal of pink about it. She looked as if she was not attending to the conversation, but solely busy with the tea-cups, among which her round ivory hands moved with pretty, noiseless daintiness.

Margaret appears to him as the very image of feminine grace here. Her blouse in this scene is very light and delicate. She is a woman, and naturally expresses the soft, tender caring for others that is characteristic of the feminine nature. She can be both strong and confident and gentle and caring. The soft look of feminine clothes also suits her.

This balance between masculine and feminine characteristics in Margaret is fascinating to Thornton. He sees both sides of her character, her practical strong side and her more tender, sweet side.

Did you know that Thornton is noticing Margaret’s every outfit? He is.

Gaskell lets us know that Thornton is noticing Margaret’s wardrobe along with everything else about her! It’s really quite endearing that he remembers every visual image of her.

After she cruelly rejects him, he wanders the country dazed with the pain of her refusal, thinking about her:

He only caught glimpses of her.; he did not understand her. He saw her in every dress, in every mood, and did not know which became her the best. Even this morning, how magnificent she had looked, — her eyes flashing out upon him at the idea that, because she had shared his danger yesterday, she had cared for him the least!

Now, what about Margaret’s drop-dead dinner party outfit? Was it too feminine? Was it too revealing? Did wearing it degrade her — or empower her?

Clearly, this elegantly coifed and presented Margaret is a far cry from the everyday Margaret Hale who wears dull brown and traipses around Milton with a nondescript frisbee hat instead of a dainty bonnet. (See an earlier blog post about bonnets in North and South)

This is not a practical dress in the least. It’s an evening dress appropriate for formal social gatherings in that era. But note how Margaret’s dress compares with Fanny’s. Margaret’s gown has no fringes, flounces, lace, or contrasting colors. Her gown is a simple solid color with a tasteful embellishment of ruffled fabric for the sleeves and neckline.

Margaret’s dress conforms to the dress code appropriate of her day, yet she chooses a more subtle style. Here’s a great drawing of the evening gowns of the 1850s, the decade North and South was published.

Remember now, Margaret didn’t even really want to go to the dinner party. She went because her mother wanted her to go. And Margaret let her mother decide what dress she would wear. She herself was not concerned about impressing anyone. Her thoughts were far more consumed with the suffering of the strikers, the Boucher family and Bessy Higgins.

What had possessed the world (her world) to fidget so about her dress, she could not understnand…

Despite Margaret’s rather nonchalant attention to her attire for the Thornton dinner party, she looked fabulous! Her dress showed off her ample figure, as it was supposed to. And her natural dignity and grace made her stand out from the crowd. She was a commanding presence in very feminine attire. According to the book, at least two dinner party attendees asked about “that fine distinguished-looking girl.” She caused quite a stir!

And did John Thornton notice?

Did he ever!

He was struck anew with her great beauty. He had never seen her in such dress before; and yet now it appeared as if such elegance of attire was so befitting her noble figure and lofty serenity of countenance, that she ought to go always thus apparelled.

I summed up Thornton’s strong attraction to Margaret’s kind of beauty fairly well in a previous post:

The beauty he sees in her is tied to the qualities she exudes: self-possessed dignity, serene freedom, natural grace, gentle frankness, unshrinking self-confidence and strength. He seems to discern the essence of Margaret Hale in one short occasion. She's a rather amazing blend of both masculine and feminine natures. And Thornton is drawn to her expression of these qualities, so many of which he himself possesses and venerates.

Margaret Hale wears her clothes well, they represent her practical, sensible side and the tender caring nature at her core.

She would definitely have loved to see the introduction of trousers for women in the coming century!

The healing effect of nature in 'North and South'

Turning to nature in times of great turmoil or sorrow can be therapeutic. The beauty, stillness, and majestic vastness of nature can calm our thoughts and give us a more expansive perspective.

Reading North and South again, I was struck by how often Margaret turned to nature for solace and strength. This is especially true at the close of the story, when she is far from Milton and evaluating how to go forward with her life.

We know from the very beginning of the book that Margaret has a strong connection with nature. Her eagerness to go home to Helstone every summer has a good deal to do with the freedom she feels there to roam the countryside and take in its beauty every day.

Margaret used to tramp along by her father’s side … revelling in the sunshine and the herbs and flowers it called forth.

[Margaret] was so happy out of doors, at her father’s side, that she almost danced…

(Chapter 2)

Once in Milton, it’s more difficult for Margaret to escape to a place of beauty, but she does seek nature by taking walks to the fields around the town. She is coming back from one of these walks when she meets Bessy Higgins. Impulsively, she shares the beauty with Bessy, by giving the sickly girl the wildflowers she had picked.

Unfortunately for Margaret, the chance to get away to nature is almost non-existent during the long months of her mother’s sickness and her father’s subsequent grief.

Gaskell tells us, however, that after being chastised by Mrs. Thornton for her impropriety, Margaret takes a brisk walk to the country to try to avoid reflecting too deeply on her distraught feelings.

It’s not until Margaret moves away from Milton—not until her parents have both died—that she has time to really think about all that has happened to her and how she feels.

After an emotional day visiting Helstone again, Margaret confesses to Mr. Bell her lie and what Mr. Thornton must think of her. Although she asks Mr. Bell to explain her circumstances to Mr. Thornton someday, she still believes that she has lost Thornton’s love forever.

That night she feels her loneliness deeply:

…she sate long hours by the open window, gazing out on the purple dome above, where the stars arose, and twinkled and disappeared behind the great umbrageous trees….A sense of change, of individual nothingness, of perplexity and disappointment, over-powered Margaret.

“…I am so tired—so tired of being whirled on through all these phases of my life, in which nothing abides by me, no creature, no place…”

(Chapter 46)

Photo by Tyler Domingue

She looks to the heavens again after Mr. Bell dies:

…when night came—solemn night, and all the house was quiet, Margaret still sate watching the beauty of a London sky…the faint pink reflection of earthly lights on the soft clouds that float tranquilly into the white moonlight, out of the warm gloom which lies motionless around the horizon….On such night as this she remembered promising to herself to live as brave and noble a life as any heroine she ever read or heard of in a romance….straight alone where she stood, in the presence of God, she prayed that she might have strength to speak and act the truth for evermore.

(Chapter 48)

And finally, in the most poignant and enduring episode of relying on nature to nourish her, Margaret spends several days on the beach, just thinking…thinking, as she stares out to sea:

She used to sit long hours upon the beach, gazing intently on the waves as they chafed with perpetual motion against the pebbly shore, —or she looked out upon the more distant heave, and sparkle against the sky, and heard, without being conscious of hearing, the eternal psalm, which went on continually. She was soothed without knowing how or why.

..all this time for thought enabled Margaret to put events in their right places, as to origin and significance, both as regarded her past life and her future. Those hours by the sea were not lost, as any one might have seen who had had the perception to read, or the care to understand, the look that Margaret’s face was gradually acquiring.

…she had learnt, in those solemn hours of thought, that she herself must one day answer for her own life, and what she had done with it….

(Chapter 49)

During this sacred time of considering the endless power and beauty of the seaside, she makes her decision about her place and purpose in the world. Margaret regains her spiritual strength and takes command of her situation. She lets her London family know that she will now be deciding for herself how to spend her time and efforts. She begins to spend time doing what she feels is important, which includes going to some of the more wretched places in London to try to make a difference in the lives of those who truly need her compassion and care.

And all this she does with the conviction that she will never marry—never live in Milton again. She believes John Thornton could no longer be in love with her, a liar.

So, with the aid of nature’s vast, infinite persepctive, she carves out a secondary dream of a purposeful life, in which she can give her love to those who need it. How beautiful it is, then, when her first dream of happiness is fulfilled—when she discovers Thornton’s steadfast love and a whole new life waiting for her in Milton.

Do you remember a time when you found comfort or peace from nature?

What are your favorite places to absorb the beauty of nature?

The search for home in North and South - Margaret's quest

It could be said that Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South is largely about Margaret Hale finding her home.

The word 'home' has rich meaning and conjures the same deep emotions as the word 'love' -- simply because the two concepts go hand in hand. Home is a center for love. That home means different things to different people who live in the same place, shows that our sense of home is also very individual. We each have a sense of what home feels like in our hearts, of what we hold most dear to our sense of purpose and place.

Home is something you treasure, and it's not the same for everyone. It can be difficult to put into words or make someone else understand what home means to us -- what home is to us. Margaret can't explain her home when Henry asks her to describe Helstone:

"...I cannot tell you about my own home. I don't quite think it is a thing to be talked about, unless you knew it."

Poor Margaret is thrust from one home to another three different times in the book: from London to Helstone, from Helstone to Milton, and from Milton back to London again. Through all these changes, the reader gets a good glimpse of how Margaret operates in three very different environments. And Margaret has the chance to experience contrasting cultures and venues. As she moves about from place to place, she is all the while developing her own individual values and sense of purpose. She is learning what it is that she really wants to create a satisfying home.

So what are the qualities of home she seeks? The sense of 'home' that she longs for changes as she matures, but the core values she wants to live don’t really vary. She wants to be where she can be free, where she feels a connection with the people around her, where she is valued, understood, and has a voice. In short, she's looking for a place where she is free to love and is loved in return.

The longing for home a powerful desire to belong -- to find a place where you feel needed and accepted, a place where you can shine. We find the most comfort and support in surrounding ourselves with people who think and feel the same and are involved in a deep-felt purpose.

The Margaret we first meet in the book is in a surrogate home. Contained by formalities, moving within the protected well-bred social circles of London, Margaret acts as an auxiliary to Edith, who is the true center of all activity at Harley Street. Margaret doesn't seem fully alive here, where the primary purpose of life is entertainment and social display. There's a side of her that is shut down while she's in London, a side of her that Edith and Henry do not know. 

We see Margaret come alive when she arrives Helstone. She is loves to roam the forest and enjoys visiting and helping the people of her father's parish. She's happiest outside in the wide-open beauty of nature, going wherever she likes. She doesn't miss the luxuries or social scenes of London at all. She is perfectly happy fulfilling "the important post of [the] only daughter in Helstone parsonage."

Here in Helstone she finds great freedom and purpose. She feels genuinely part of the community around her. The beauty of nature found everywhere in Helstone inspires a sense of happy freedom in her. It's no wonder she calls Helstone "about as perfect a place as any in the world.”

She resists coming to Milton, where the scenery is bleak and everyone seems so busy. But what begins to draw her out of her unhappiness is finding a connection with the Higgins family. Margaret loves engaging with humanity and the larger world. She’s passionate about supporting those around her.

In Helstone, she was used to visiting and helping the poor country people that lived in her father's parish. In Milton, she becomes interested in supporting the working poor. She finds the energy of the town engaging. The future of England is being forged in the factories of Milton, and Margaret develops a fondness for the spirit of its people.

When she returns to London, she feels the oppression of being caught in her cousin's sphere of elegant security. She is once again relegated to nurse-maid and social assistant. There's no engagement with the broader community of humanity and nothing of any great purpose is being accomplished, until she is made an heiress and makes the firm decision to do what she believes is important.

Margaret begins to fill her need to live a more purposeful life by becoming involved in helping the poor in London. This gives her a sense of freedom and fills some of her time with meaningful activity. But she still isn’t truly “home” in London, surrounded by a family who doesn’t comprehend her values. She won’t be home until she’s partnered with the one person who understands and cherishes her strong desire to help improve the lives of others. She finds her home with John Thornton, in Milton.

It’s ironic that a girl who loves the country so much finds her true home in dirty and smoky Milton, isn’t it? But heck, I think a girl could live just about ANYWHERE as long as John Thornton comes with the “home” package!

Next time we’ll talk about the Thornton side of the search for home.

That moment before everything changes...

There’s something so powerfully magical in the brief scene where Margaret is waiting to see Mr. Thornton in his office. It’s the vantage point of the repeat viewer that makes it so. We know what Margaret doesn’t—that the most significant encounter of her life is about to happen. These are the few quiet moments before she bursts into John Thornton’s world.

Margaret studies the mill yard scene. (From the BBC’s production of North and South.)

Brought by the overseer to wait for the Master, Margaret is impatient to resolve the details of renting the house in Crampton. She needs to get back to her father, so she can’t wait around forever. But she takes some time to take in the scene around her. She can’t help being curious about the factory setting of the town her family is moving to.

I always hold my breath when she stops to look closer at the writing in the open ledger. I tell myself that she is examining the handwriting of the man who will become her husband. It never fails to send my romantic heart all aflutter to imagine how intimately her life will be intwined with the man who wrote those very figures and words.

It’s almost as if she’s drawn to look and doesn’t know why—as if the power of his presence pervades the room and speaks to her from the pages. And all the while we know that she has no idea of the significance of the impending moment.

Am I the only one who feels the suspense building in this scene? I adore it. It’s a brilliant device by the screenplay writer. Margaret’s contemplative solitude is a silent contrast to the cacophony and activity of the machinery and factory workers she finds behind the sliding door.

The scene where Margaret opens the door to a world of falling cotton “snow” is as impactful as the famous film moment when Dorothy opens the door of the fallen drab Kansas farmhouse to discover a whole new world of brilliant color.

Nothing has prepared Margaret for the sights and sounds before her.

What makes the “waiting” scene so compelling is that it feels so commonplace to us. We’ve all been in similar situations—kept waiting. It’s a regular part of life to wait. We have moments of being held stationary while we long to push forward with our outlined agenda.

And sometimes—just sometimes—something happens to change the course of our lives. And we may not even recognize it at first.

Not everyone will have an encounter as spectacularly surprising as Margaret Hale when she first meets her husband-to-be. But we can have moments of uexpected discoveries and encounters that lead to new paths we hadn’t foreseen.

During this time of collective waiting, I hope we’re all headed for some pleasant surprises and unexpected encounters that lead to higher satisfaction, joy, and good for all humanity.

Did Margaret Hale bake?

Fanny hovers over the offered sweets. Were these bought from the bakery?

With so many people spending more time creating in their kitchens this stay-home year, could there be a more timely topic to round out the year?

There’s no indication that Margaret spent time in her kitchen either in Helstone or in Milton. According to Gaskell’s North and South, the Hales kept a cook in Helstone, besides having a house-maid and Dixon, a ladies maid. In Milton it was difficult to find help and Dixon had to take up regular household duties that had once previous been beneath her.

When Mr. Hale announces that Mr. Thornton is coming to tea, Margaret offers to help with some of the day’s work, but it’s not to do any of the baking:

“…we will give [Mr. Thornton] a welcome, and some cocoa-nut cakes. Dixon will be flattered if we ask her to make some; and I will undertake to iron your caps, mamma.”

Mrs. Hale is distressed at the thought of her daughter helping out with the laundry down in the kitchen. Evidently, a gentleman’s daughter was not expected to have to do daily drudgery. It appears likely that Margaret may never have learned to cook or bake.

Certainly, Margaret would never have set foot in the kitchen at Aunt Shaw’s unless it was to relay orders. Learning to cook and bake would not have been on the list of things for Edith to learn. She would never have been expected to do the cooking. Both girls would have been taught, however, how to serve tea.

Alas, does this mean that Margaret would never bake a special batch of treats for her husband once married? Who knows! Both Margaret and John both pushed against being constrained by tradition or class rules. If she had the impulse to bake something herself, I’m sure she would do so. But Margaret Thornton wouldn’t need to do housework or kitchen work.

Apple pie

I, on the other hand, have been enjoying playing in the kitchen. I’ve been spending more time than ever baking and am grateful for a productive hobby to keep me busy while staying home with the family for months on end.

I also love watching and re-watching The British Baking Show. I sometimes put it on for background noise while I’m in the kitchen.

Although I would LOVE to have food made for me, I think I would miss baking. It’s a creative outlet that satisfies — in more ways than one!

My mother was always baking pie, brownies, cookies or cakes. Dessert means “I love you” in my family’s parlance.

Baking is making a tremendous resurgence right now. Are you spending more time baking? What have you made?

The traditional Christmas cookies for the kids to decorate.

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.

The Fantastically Strong Women of North and South

Who do you consider a strong woman in Elizabeth Gaskell’s story? I immediately think of Margaret Hale and Hannah Thornton for their amazing ability to endure whatever life throws at them. Edith, Fanny, and Aunt Shaw are models of the more fashionable and useless Victorian woman — living a coddled life of vanity where problems must be invented in order to have something to complain about.

Weaker women tend to complain a lot, they’re often unable to make decisions for themselves, they can’t cope with stress or tragedy, and they hardly bother to think of how situations or events affect others — they’re too consumed with their own concerns or wants. Weaker women let society and fashion mold them.

In contrast, strong women keep their complaints mostly to themselves, make decisions without consulting others, handle stress and tragedies without shutting down, and most importantly — they think of how their actions affect others. Strong women create their own path in life.

Margaret picks up the slack in housework

Of course, we all have our weak moments (or days or years), and I’m not saying that Margaret is always strong. On the contrary, she has her breakdowns — although they are kept very private. She’s human and she cries and complains at times. But she keeps moving forward, despite all that happens to her.

Margaret’s ability to remain strong throughout three long years of endless troubles impresses me. She’s a great model for feminine fortitude for her era. What proves she can carry herself through any situation? Here’s an incomplete list of situations she manages all on her own during the events of the novel:

• Keeps a sense of self-worth while serving as a companion to her wealthier and prettier cousin

• Accepts the task of dropping an emotional bomb on her mother, for her father’s sake

• Shoulders the responsibility of moving a household when her parents can’t cope

• Leaves a beloved childhood home for a darker, dirtier place without complaining

• Tries to soften her mother’s complaints and keep a cheerful attitude to keep her father from slipping into depression

• Argues with a respected businessman about his questionable moral attitudes toward laborers

• Tries to single-handedly stop a riot

• Rejects Mr. Right who happens to be dad’s best friend (talk about complicated relationships!)

• Consoles the father of her dead friend — the only friend she had made in Milton

• Consoles her father and brother when her mother dies

• Tries to keep her exiled brother from getting caught and sentenced to death

• Endures severe social censure for containing her brother’s secret

• Loses the respect of Mr. Right (she thinks)

• Steps up to tell Mrs. Boucher her husband is dead

• Tries to keep her father from devastating depression while she mourns her mother’s death

• Loses her father and is forced to move from Milton

That’s a quite a lot to muddle through before you turn twenty-one! And throughout it all, Margaret maintains a remarkably strong sense of her identity and worth. She does not let others define her. She makes some courageous decisions and she accepts responsibility for following through. She’s the backbone of the family.

In so many ways, Hannah Thornton is like Margaret. She suffers her hardships silently, takes decisive action when things get really hard, and does what it takes to keep her family going. The fact that Hannah didn’t wait around for charity or accept the stigma society placed on her family for her husband’s suicide tells you tons about this woman. She laid the foundation for John’s success, which required her to take a determined path centered on her own values, not the ones society laid out for her.ff

These two are the obvious powerhouse women of North and South, but I see a few others who were able to endure hardship and made great efforts to protect or help others:

Bessy Higgins

For a dying teenager, Bessy keeps her complaints to a minimum (how many teenagers do that?!) and doesn’t make a lot of drama. Even during her last dying days, she’s worried about her father and distressed about how her father is treating Boucher. She isn’t focused on her own condition or terrorized by it. Her passionate desire to calm her father is stronger than her own self-concern. Her last words to Mary are for her to keep her father from drinking. Clearly, she had a strong love for others.

Mary Higgins

Bessy’s younger sister stays in the periphery of the story, but she is a silent strength in her own right. There’s no indication that Mary is a troublesome or selfish girl. She works to contribute to the family and tries to be helpful. After Boucher’s death, Mary takes care of his children. Mary is actually the main breadwinner of the family while Nicholas is out of work.

Maria Hale

I had no intention of including Maria when I set out to write a piece about strong women. I’ve never been a fan of Maria; I have practice being very critical of her. When we first meet her in the book, she is small-minded, self-pitying, and a rather vocal complainer.

I tried to think if she had any strengths, and had an epiphany of sorts in realizing that she did. How did I miss it all these years? I had never really stopped to consider why—after years of making a habit of complaining—she suddenly keeps her serious illness a secret. She must have made this decision out of love for her husband, knowing it would be a terrible blow to him.

She didn’t want to distress her family with this trouble, so she kept her physical suffering to herself (and Dixon) as long as possible. I find her motive in doing this very noble. Whether or not her decision was wise or not, it demonstrated strong desire and self-control to protect others from emotional pain.

And so I have a new appreciation for Maria that I had not had before. She showed her strength in the end.

What strengths do you admire in the women of North and South?

The problem with Henry Lennox...

Looking into the character and role of Henry Lennox in North and South can be fascinating and somewhat complex. Are we supposed to like him or not? Is he really in love with Margaret? What is it that makes him just not quite Margaret's type? And then, of course, there's book Henry and then there's film Henry.

Film Henry has a much more aggressive streak, which we see in the scene at The Great Exhibition. Noticing that there seems to be something going on between Margaret and Thornton, he takes a stab at Thornton to try to put him in his place: 

"Mr. Thornton ... all the way from Milton?"  [Snark translation: "You're from the Neanderthal northern regions, not a cultivated Londoner."] 

"My brother is interested in dabbling in cotton."  [Snark translation: "You're a tradesman, who only speaks cotton terms, yes? We find your kind amusing and occasionally profitable."]

Thornton wins this verbal battle by throwing Henry's own words back into his face: "I'm not sure I'm the one to speak to. I'm not sure I'd know how to dabble." It's not only a killer comeback, this brilliant line from the adaptation can also be taken as a good summary of the contrast between these two men. Henry dabbles. Thornton does not. (More on this later.)

And how does Henry affect Margaret? What is her reaction to Henry's snide remarks? We can tell by her expression and her replies that Henry has won no points with her at all. It's pretty plain who she is standing up for here in this brief exchange. And it's not the barrister from London. 

Although this alpha male confrontation doesn't happen at all in the book, this scene from the BBC adaptation still provides an accurate glimpse as to why Margaret isn't interested in Henry as a possible husband -- he lacks depth, he can be arrogant, and he doesn't really know her. 

Now let's look at these disqualifying aspects one by one in the light of the character Elizabeth Gaskell created -- by what we know of Henry from the book:

Lack of depth

Dabblers lack depth. They're not totally committed or wholly involved. 

We know with John Thornton, whether in love or in his lifework, -- he's all in. Whatever he does he does with a consuming commitment; when he falls in love, he is shaken to the core.

Henry, however savvy and worldly clever, just doesn't have the same substance through and through. He's mostly about doing whatever gets surface results: a good career, the right social circle, the esteem of others. Margaret isn't the only girl that would ever suit him, she's just the first one he's decided who could work really well (he thinks) in his sphere.

His casual, flippant manner is revealed in the very first chapter. Margaret is annoyed when he pokes fun at her description of Helstone, a place very dear to her heart. Henry often treats conversation as a social game of wit, no matter the subject matter. It's a habit of his that Margaret finds superficial and cold. 

Henry's reliance on empty, sarcastic conversation is shown more clearly when he visits Helstone. After he has proposed and been rejected, he finds some measure of recovery from his embarrassment in "a few minutes [of] light and careless talking" with Mr. Hale. 

Before a quarter of an was over he had fallen into a way of conversing with quiet sarcasm; speaking of life in London and life in the country, as if he were conscious of his second macking self, and afraid of his own satire. Mr. Hale was puzzled. His visitor was a different man to what he had seen him before...a lighter, cleverer, more worldly man, and, as such, dissonant to Mr. Hale.

Henry seems to have something of a dual nature -- a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde complex. When alone with Margaret, he can often be sympathetic and gentle. But, he can change in an instant and become more distant and snidely sophisticated. 

Margaret is struck by his caustic side. It really bothers her when he acts this way. And here, especially after letting his guard down in telling her of his love, she is surprised at the shallowness of his behavior afterward:

...he, not many minutes after he had met with a rejection of what ought to have been the deepest, holiest proposal of his life, could speak as if briefs, success, and agreeable society, were the sole avowed objects of his desires. Oh dear! how she could have loved him if he had but been different, with a difference which she felt, on reflection, to be one that went low -- deep down.

Arrogance

Henry's arrogance plays a big part in the way he presents himself to Margaret. One of the reasons Henry seems to switch over to his urbane cynical self is to preserve his pride. He's always posturing to win social acclaim for his cleverness and cool intellectual judgement. And it appears he sees himself as superior to others. "Margaret saw glimpses in him of slight contempt for his brother and sister-in-law, and for their mode of life."

Although Henry is rather impressed by Thornton (in Gaskell's book), he still manages to feel superior over the tradesman who was forced to close his mill. Margaret senses his arrogance and calls him out on it in the following exchange:

 "You've no idea what an agreeable, sensible fellow this tenant of yours is....I can't conceive how he contrived to mis-manage his affairs."

"With his powers and opportunities you would have succeeded," said Margaret.

He did not quite relish the tone in which she spoke, although the words but expressed a thought which had passed through his own mind.

Ignorance of the real Margaret

Henry doesn't really know Margaret, although he's arrogant enough to assume he does. When he asks her how she spends her days in Helstone, he can't fathom what she could possibly do to fill the time without archery parties, social picnics, or lawn game gatherings. He assumes Margaret needs planned social activity as much as he does. He never seems to comprehend that she does not thrive on the luxury London routine that he enjoys. He even hopes to find that Margaret will have missed her London life when he visits her in Helstone. Not a chance. She loves the freedom of her life in the wide-open country.

Henry also makes the mistake of ignoring or underestimating Margaret's strong moral core. His enthusiasm for witty intellect over moral substance actually makes Margaret angry. Even when he does acknowledge her Christian nature, he's rather annoyed with it. And he has the audacity to tell Edith that he wishes Margaret were a little more pagan! If he doesn't appreciate her foundational values and her corresponding behavior, he really should be looking for someone else.  

Can Henry really be in love with Margaret, considering that he doesn't really know her?  He seems to be in love with his perception of her or, perhaps with the promise of what she could be to him. Indeed, Henry's concept of marriage is clearly revealed in the following musing:

...the clever and ambitious man bent all his powers to gaining Margret. He loved her sweet beauty. He saw the latent sweep of her mind, which could easily (he thought) be led to embrace all the objects on which he had set his heart.

Henry's looking for a girl he can mold to his personal requirements. He's assuming his marriage will take on the traditional pattern, where the wife is subservient to her husband's wishes. The fact that Henry can believe that Margaret will be happy conforming to this model is the final proof that he doesn't really know her. Margaret shows no interest in following the customary path of making a comfortable life in the pursuit of wealth, ease, or social acclaim.  She wants to actively engage with the world outside her comfort sphere. She is looking for a life of purpose -- a way to help others. Henry's pursuit is to project himself onto the world, to find satisfaction in pleasing himself according to all of society's standards of success. 

Margaret and Henry want different things. They're following two different paths.

Margaret realizes this, and knows she will never marry him. Henry doesn't see this, and blindly believes he's slowly winning her over.

Now of course Henry isn't really a bad fellow. I give credit to Henry for being attracted to Margaret in the first place. There are times Henry is a good friend to Margaret, when he isn't being so concerned about his own self-image. But his focus on self and worldly gain and satisfaction is just so very -- typical. Henry is following the crowd in his life habits and desires. His quick wit and keen intelligence are not enough to commend him. He's far too focused on Henry and how Henry appears to the world. 

If we take a broad look at Henry Lennox's role in North and South, we can see how Gaskell uses him to bring out various facets of Margaret's character.  And, of course, Henry is a striking foil for John Thornton. The contrast between the two men shows us exactly what Margaret is attracted to and what repels her.

And now -- at long last, we need to take into account the overriding reason why Henry will never do: the lawyer from London could never combine the passion and tenderness in one kiss that one lonely Milton master could -- and did.

Henry discovers the real reason Thornton is called "the master." 

The real problem with Henry?  He's just not John Thornton.

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.

Margaret Hale's been crying

Margaret Hale cries. A lot. Well, not in the BBC mini-series so much, but she cries an awful lot in Gaskell's book. Did you realize that? I knew there was much more lacrimal action going on in the book than the film ever portrays, but even I was surprised by my research on the subject.

She cries 31 times. Yes, I read the whole book and counted. Stay tuned, because a little later I'll be analyzing why and when Margaret Hale sheds tears throughout her trials in North and South. Complete with graphs and all.

And now you know how serious my North and South affliction is. But I'll assume that if you're reading this, you must have somewhat of a thing for North and South, too. 

What difference does it make whether Margaret cries or not? Let me tell you why I bothered to count her crying moments in the first place.

From the wide variety of comments, reviews, and summaries regarding North and South I've read over the years, I've regularly come across a strain of viewers/readers that tend to envision Margaret as the embodiment of more modern heroic ideals of feminine confidence and independence. This version of Margaret is always able to handle whatever comes her way, seldom or never breaks down, needs little or no aid from others, carves her own path in life, and seems always ready to give a piece of her mind to those who don't see the world as she does. 

And this view of an ever-strong and capable Margaret Hale is given a boost by the BBC's portrayal of Margaret, where we seldom see her at her most vulnerable moments. The 2004 mini-series conveniently avoids showing an unconscious Margaret being carried into the Thorntons' house. The adaptation also omits Margaret's collapse into unconsciousness following the intense questioning of the police inspector. We see Margaret cry once throughout the entire film version -- at her mother's death. Clearly, Margaret is made of pretty stern stuff. She seldom appears to lose control.

How did Margaret get from here ....

.... to here? The 2004 BBC adaptation will let you guess.

The 1975 adaptation doesn't skip over this very vulnerable moment.    

Why does this matter? Because the modern adaptation's choice to leave out moments when Margaret could appear weak, vulnerable, or over-emotional is a choice to present a more idealistic vision of female fortitude for twenty-first century viewers. And I'm ok with that for the most part; I really don't like the soppier version of Margaret presented in the 1975 adaptation. But I do think it's important to take a closer look at how Gaskell portrays Margaret so that we can get a more complete and realistic picture of the emotional turbulence going on in this nineteen year-old Victorian. (Margaret is only 19 during the height of the story's drama. See my timeline here.) 

The essential question we should ask is whether Margaret can be considered a model of strength despite the fact that she cries at times. Is crying a sign of weakness? Is it an embarrassing symbol of feminine sensitivity? Of incapacity or immaturity? 

Crying can become excessive and indicate shrinking fear, self-pity, or over-sensitivity that is not admirable. But if crying is something of an emotional release valve for those going through deep trials, then crying is wholly human; it indicates that we actually have a heart--which is a good thing. I'd be more wary of someone who doesn't cry in moments of extreme emotional anguish, grief, or despairing exhaustion. 

At the very least, we know that with all the crying going on, Margaret Hale indeed does have a heart -- even if she keeps it very well hidden from brooding cotton mill masters.

In my curiosity to see how many times Margaret cried, I marked each instance down and jotted a little note. Of course, categorizing and counting cries is hardly an objective task. What counts as a cry in my analysis? I counted not only clearly described sobbing and wet cheeks, but also when tears welled up and one instance in particular when she was "choking and swallowing" to fight back tears.

Why she cried was also my subjective judgement. I endeavored to interpret the reason she cried from the immediate procuring cause and any underlying cause that I perceived lurked behind the tears. We all cry for compounded reasons, but I tried to classify the predominant factor. For example, when Thornton comes to offer his condolences after her mother's death, he speaks so tenderly that he evokes tears from her. Is this a cry because of her mother's death or because his gentleness reminds her of her lost chances (she thinks) with him? I marked this cry as one caused by grief since it so closely followed the loss of her mother.

Now let's take a look at my categorization for why Margaret Hale shed tears throughout her three year trial in North and South. 

Reasons for Crying

The most shocking revelation from the above graph is that despite all the other reasons for crying: being ripped away from a beloved home, dealing with multiple deaths and unending family trials -- it's her strong feelings concerning John Thornton that's the number one reason she loses control of her emotions in the novel. She cries after Mrs. Thornton comes to chew her out, she cries when she confesses to her father that she rejected Thornton, and she cries when she explains to Mr. Bell what Mr. Thornton must think of her. 

When she Cries

And now for a very general overview of when Margaret cries throughout the story. There's not much surprise here. Margaret's problems started with that fatal day when Henry proposed and her father told her they were moving -- her trials only accumulated and intensified from there. After the proposal, just about every thing in her life is falling apart. 

Before and After Proposal Cries

Thornton's declaration of love is a reverberating climax, and it also conveniently marks the halfway point of the novel. It's not really a surprise that Margaret gets twice as tearful in the second half of this story because that's precisely when her troubles begin to compound and things get complicated. You can look at this graph also as a division of the BBC mini-series. Episodes 1 and 2 constitute the first half and episodes 3 and 4 follow the climactic midpoint: Thornton's proposal. And seriously, wouldn't you cry too if you declined Richard Armitage/John Thornton's offer of eternal devotion?!

So, back to my essential question -- can Margaret still be considered a admirable bastion of strength, even with all her moments of weeping and tear-filled eyes? You bet she can! Her emotional strength is impressive considering her age and the situations she is forced to deal with. How well would you hold up if you had to juggle fulfilling your mother's dying wish, preventing your father from slipping into depression, making maneuvers to keep your brother from dying a traitor's death while at the same time inadvertently screwing up your relationship with the man of your dreams? Oh, and your best friend dies about the same time as your mother. Good times, right?

I have to wonder how she even found the courage to get out of bed some mornings! I really admire her strength through the slew of non-stop trials she endures. She certainly demonstrates strength according to my view of the ideal, which includes the following aspects:

• Ability to keep moving/acting even when some days you are just surviving instead of moving forward. The ability to keep going when everything seems to be falling apart.
• Not succumbing to despair, bitterness.
• Determination of individual purpose -- you define what you're living for.
• Ability to put personal pleasure and ease aside in the endeavor to follow your ideals.
• Rising to the occasion when others are incapable of leading.
• Persisting in endeavoring to do what is right.

I can't help but think of other classic heroines who portrayed this kind of strength: Jane Eyre, Elinor Dashwood (Sense & Sensibility), Anne Elliot (Persuasion), and Molly Gibson (Wives & Daughters)

Do strong women cry? They certainly do.