A Conversation between Darcy and Thornton

The BBC's Mr. Thornton and Mr. Darcy

The following dialogue was originally posted at C19 by the brilliantly witty "Red Queen" back in 2006, when the seismic waves of North and South's first impact on the period drama world were still reverberating. (For a brief history the C19 message board's glorious origins, see the Armitage Authors post here.) Special thanks to Clare, aka Red Queen, for permission to share this gem yet again with an ever-expanding cyber fandom. 

 

Fitzwilliam Darcy: “All right?”

John Thornton: “I’ve been better.”

FD: “Hmmm, I know that look. You’ve got woman trouble and I bet I know of just what kind. Don’t tell me. You met a girl with more than the full complement of opinions. You then spent several weeks trying to tell yourself you didn’t like her, in spite of the fact that you were thinking about her all the time and pretty much wanted to – er – marry her without delay. You popped over to share the glad tidings and, instead of being deeply sensible of the honour and sobbing into your shirt front with gratitude, she read you a lecture about your shortcomings and started eyeing the fire-irons.”

JT: “That’s exactly what happened – how did you know?”

FD: “Been there, done that, bought the cravat. There’s more. Having trodden her dainty feet all over your heart, I’ll bet the ranch she then made some crack about you being ungentlemanly.”

JT: “Oh yes – I got that off both barrels.”

FD: “Thought so. Me too. Classic ‘get-lost-you-lowlife’ tactic. I take it you exited stage right in a bigger hurry than you arrived?”

JT: “I did.”

FD: “And then your own family started getting on the case and, before you knew where you were, you’d got some funereal old bird giving you the yap about how your bride of choice was, in fact, Satan in petticoats.”

JT: “Yeah, my mother did have one or two things to say on the subject."

FD: “I had an aunt sticking her beak in. Did your girlfriend get a visit from the old crone?”

JT: “She certainly did.”

FD: “I knew it. And did the light of your life give the old dear a flea for her trouble?”

JT: “Yep. Big time.”

FD: “Your woman-of-choice and mine aren’t sisters by any chance are they? She’s got a load of sisters, I lose count ….”

JT: “Only if her father’s a deceased ex-clergyman. Shame he’s deceased - he was a nice old boy, I really liked him.”

FD: “Not sisters then. My father-in-law is still among us. He’s a good bloke as it goes, but the mother …. don’t get me started.”

JT: “Nightmare?”

FD: “The full ticket to dreadful. All I can say is thank God there are a lot of miles and bad roads between Derbyshire and Hertfordshire. What’s your girlfriend’s old lady like?”

JT: “Dead.”

FD: “Result. How’d you manage that?”

JT: “I polluted the local climate with my factory and it aggravated her consumption. Cost me a fortune in fruit baskets before she finally shuffled off though. Never bought so many flippin’ grapes.”

FD: “So, to recap: you had the offer of your heart and mattress callously given the full frosty. I take it you’ve spent the time since being thoroughly miserable and reforming your character?”

JT: “Check on both counts. If you knew how much stew I’ve had to eat in the company of oiks just to impress her.”

FD: “I know the drill. I had to cosy up to my tenants and bribe my housekeeper to spread the word. Believe me, it’ll be worth it in the end - women lap all that stuff up. What you need now is some family crisis that you can sort out on the QT, so you can look heroic but modest with it. I had a stroke of luck in that department. The beloved’s silly cow sister ran off with a total scumbag. I strong-armed the scumbag into doing the decent thing. Cost me a packet but the dream date started to look more favourably on the old suit so it was worth every penny.”

JT: “I’m already sorted on that one thanks. There was some trouble with this girl’s brother. Never met him but he sounds like a bit of a numpty to be honest. Anyway, he landed her with a possible court appearance which made her lip wobble big time. Couldn’t have that, so I put a stop to it.”

FD: “What did she say to that?”

JT: “Not much, although she has stopped lecturing me about my moral duty every time I enter a room, so that’s a step up. I’m going to see her later this morning actually. She wants to lend me 18 grand.”

FD: “18 grand eh? Well, it’s none of my business mate, but I think you might be in there.”

JT: “I dunno. I saw her at dinner last night and she wasn’t very chatty. Looked a bit pink though.”

FD: “Well, play it by ear. See how she is this a.m. Have you got some romantic gesture up your sleeve just in case the moment presents?”

JT: “It’s not up my sleeve, it’s in my waistcoat pocket. I’ve got some roses in there that come from her hometown. She’s completely sentimental about the place.”

FD: “Impressive. If she doesn’t want to snuggle up after that I think you’ll just have to cut your losses.”

JT: “Oh well, better get going – don’t want to be late. Just one thing though …. do you think there’s any truth in the saying that if you want to know what your wife will be like in 20 years, just look at her mother?”

[Long, long pause.]

FD: “Let’s hope, for your sake and mine, that there isn’t.”

Marrying for love in North & South

Elizabeth Gaskell begins her novel with one wedding and ends it with the imminent prospect of another. In the opening pages, eighteen year-old Margaret Hale is caught up in the flurry of preparations for Edith's forthcoming wedding. And by the end of chapter two, Gaskell has depicted the general outcome of two marriages (the Shaws and the Hales). Clearly, Gaskell has something to say on the subject of choosing a life match. And well she should, since her heroine has arrived at the threshold of the marriage mart and will need to navigate her way through two unexpected proposals and the possibility of spinsterhood.

Should one marry for money or love? This appears to be the rather stark choice presented to every Victorian girl. Gaskell gives us a glimpse into the result of both choices by comparing two sisters. 

Margaret's Aunt Shaw married for money. She chose to marry a man she didn't love who was much older. She has every material comfort and no financial woes.  Aunt Shaw romanticizes the concept of marrying for love and insists that Edith marry for love. Regularly complaining of the age disparity in her marriage of convenience, Anna Shaw imagines that her sister must be happy:

'Married for love, what can dearest Maria have to wish for in this world?' Mrs. Hale, if she spoke truth, might have answered with a ready-made list, ' a silver-gray glacé silk, a white chip bonnet, oh! dozens of things...."

the BBC's Maria and Richard Hale

Mrs. Hale married for love, but has found it difficult to be happy with the modest income and somewhat isolated life of a country parson's wife. She complains that her husband hasn't risen to a more profitable and socially satisfying position. 

Gaskell doesn't present a clear winner out of either of these two marriages. Is there any hope that her protagonist, Margaret Hale, will find some kind of happily-ever-after? How should she choose a life partner?

The answer may lie in looking a little closer at what "marrying for love" may mean in different cases.

Mr Hale and his wife may have been in love, but they don't seem well suited to each other on an intellectual level. Gaskell points out that early on in their marriage, Mr Hale wanted to spend time reading aloud to his wife but that she was annoyed with it. Thus, he began to retreat to his study and read alone. 

So, in finding a good match, it's best to match both hearts and minds. It's important to find someone who engages your mind and enjoys similar pursuits or you may find your marital bond weakening instead of strengthening.

Henry Lennox gets a "no" from Margaret.

Margaret's rejection of Henry Lennox tells us much about what she expects, consciously or unconsciously, from marriage. When Henry asks if he may still hope that she may someday accept him as a lover, she is "silent for a minute or two, trying to discover the truth as it was in her own heart." Ultimately, she couldn't say "yes" when her heart said "no." She clearly intends to marry for love. Henry is a good catch for her, according to the prevalent assumptions of what a girl should aim for, yet she wasn't at all tempted to accept. 

Marriage isn't even on Margaret's mind at the time Henry proposes. She doesn't seem to be worried about who or when she'll marry at all. She's just happy to return to her home in Helstone. Securing a comfortable position as someone's wife isn't on her current agenda.

Someone else in this story also doesn't appear to be thinking about finding a spouse: John Thornton. He hasn't been making any plans or showing any interest in the ladies that his mother says are pursuing him. 

What are John's expectations of marriage? There's no indication that he had planned on marrying at all. He has been too occupied with his work. 

What was the model of marriage his parents left for him? We can only surmise that Hannah Thornton may have loved her husband, however much pain his suicide caused her. She wears black, the color of mourning, years after first becoming a widow. She has kept with pride the Dutch damask napkins with her husband's initials, given as a wedding present, through all the years of hardship. She never speaks unkindly of him or seems to blame him with bitterness.

If it's possible, then, that Thornton recalls his parents' marriage as one based on real affection, then it's certain that Fanny was too young to remember anything of her mother's marriage at all. Fanny doesn't appear to have any other aim than to marry well according to social status and wealth. She, like Aunt Shaw, chooses to marry a rich, older man.

It's fascinating to watch how Margaret and John  discover that they have found someone that they want to marry -- someone who engages their heart and their mind -- when marriage had been the furthest thing from their minds! 

John Thornton also gets a "no."

It's a rocky road to love. Margaret is compelled to say "no" to the second offer of love she receives because she isn't aware that she is falling in love with the Milton master yet. Too much confusion. 

And by the end of the novel, when Margaret tells Edith she will never marry, the reader knows it's because she will not compromise on marriage. She will marry for love, or not at all. And she believes that the door to marital bliss has been closed forever for her.

And that mistake is all cleared up in the last two pages....

Brönte, being plain, and the curse of beauty

I've been indulging in a bit of Brönte lately. I recently re-watched Jane Eyre (BBC 2006) and I just finished reading Agnes Grey.

I'm intrigued by the regular recurrence of heartless beauties in both Charlotte and Anne's works. Clearly, beauty is a big deal for the Brontes. But not in a good way. 

The beautiful Blanche Ingram (with plain Jane in the shadows).

There's a distinct similarity in Agnes Grey, Jane Eyre, and Villette in which the first-person narrator feels largely invisible as a quiet, thinking person and as a plain-looking female. Of course, in all these stories, there is often also a consideration of class wherein the narrator's social position is one of diminished importance compared to those around her. 

Is this a peculiar feeling to the Bronte sisters, who were obviously brilliant intellects and astute observers? Or is it a common burden for any girl of the era who has more intelligence than good looks? Do the beautiful girls get all the attention? 

Well, not always of course. Rochester chooses Jane over Blanche.

Good choice, Rochester.

Conversely, perhaps it is actually something of a curse to be born beautiful as a girl in that era. Is there really an inverse relation of brains to beauty, or are beautiful girls taught early on to consider their self-worth as largely pertaining to appearance? Do they steadily grow into all-consuming vanity after years of being raised to give inordinate attention to the outside package?

Agnes Grey confesses that "it is foolish to wish for beauty. Sensible people never either desire it for themselves, or care about it in others. If the mind be but well cultivated, and the heart well disposed, no one ever cares for the the exterior. So said the teachers of our childhood; and so say we to the children of the present day. All very judicious and proper, no doubt; but are such assertions supported by actual experience?"

It feels like Agnes is trying to use good sense and logical reasoning to quell a longing for a little more beauty. Her musing on beauty comes at a time when she discovers that the dazzling Miss Murray intends, merely as a vain game, to attract the attention of the man Agnes loves. The plain-looking Agnes Grey acknowledges that "we are naturally disposed to love what gives us pleasure, and what more pleasing than a beautiful face...?"

Poor Agnes is in anguish over the thought of being passed over simply because she lacks the power to make herself known; a gift or benefit naturally accorded to those that are beautiful. If a woman "is plain and good ... no one ever knows of her goodness, except her immediate connections." Whereas, those who are favored by nature to be beautiful may have "an angel form [which] conceals a vicious heart."

Miss Murray does seem to have something of a vicious heart. In toying with the affections of one her four suitors, she finds his heartfelt marriage proposal an amusing incident to relay to others -- even after the suitor begs her to keep his failed overture a secret. She has little or no concern for others.

In Villette there is a Miss Fanshawe who enjoys keeping two or more men dangling after her. And one of them is admired by the plain-looking narrator, Lucy Snowe. Again, the beautiful Miss Fanshawe is portrayed as having little consideration of others' feelings. The world exists to amuse and venerate her. 

The belle of the county in Jane Eyre, however, seems merely ambitious, not vicious. Blanche Ingram is interested in becoming mistress of Thornfield. Her beauty enhances her prospects, so custom assumes, in realizing her goal. But Rochester discerns that she is incapable of loving anyone. Such beauties like Blanche seem to truly lack the ability to put another person's happiness above their own. 

The inability to care for others reminds me of someone else at her most vicious. (Fanny Watson - BBC 2004)

Where does all this vanity and indifference to others come from? Does being born with good looks naturally create a heartless, narcissistic female?

Social conditioning has a great deal to do with creating these hollow shells. Parental expectations and values are often transferred to their offspring. Parents guide their children's minds into channels of thought either conducive to or wholly opposed to worthy pursuits that enrich character, such as self-improvement, and respect for others.

There is a recurring theme in Agnes Grey that reveals how children are turned into selfish, undisciplined brats by their parents' own inflated sense of self-importance, based on the shallow markers of wealth, class, or physical appearance. 

I loved the particularly candid observation made in a conversation between Agnes and her love-interest: 

"... some people think rank and wealth the chief good; and, if they can secure that for their children, they think they have done their duty." 

"True: but is it not strange that persons of experience, who have been married themselves, should judge so falsely?"

With such empty values being transmitted to children, it is hardly surprising to see the pretty Miss Murray get her just deserts. Having been taught to seek grandeur and wealth her entire life, she achieves her goal in marrying a titled man with impressive property. After a glamorous honeymoon through the capitals of Europe, she becomes perfectly miserable within a year -- tied to a man she detests, and living with an overbearing mother-in-law.

Taking such lackluster results into consideration, the highest advantage may ultimately belong to the plain girls, who have to rely on something other than beauty to bolster their identity and self-worth. It's the quiet girls in the shadows, after all, who have much more opportunity to observe and reflect and grow a heart while others earn society's attention. 

What should a girl aspire to be? A thinker (and lover!) or a showpiece? 

Why I started writing fiction + book giveaway!

Find out how North and South (and Richard Armitage) turned me into a writer.

Thornton and books. Is there anything more a girl needs?

There are still a couple days left to make a comment for a chance to win a copy of In Consequence! 

It can all be found at FromPemberleytoMilton.com

In Consequence -- a lovely review

From Pemberley to Milton gives In Consequence 4.5 stars.  Rita's lovely review of my second North and South variation can be found here.

When do John and Margaret Stop Arguing?

The BBC's John Thornton tries to recover from Margaret's rejection.

No, this isn't a trick question. There's a definite end to their arguing in the book. And you may be surprised at the answer. 

When John comes to declare his love for Margaret the morning after the riot, the tense relationship between the master and the Milton newcomer reaches a blistering vocal climax. Pent-up emotions on each side explode into forceful words and both are left stunned by the unexpected vehemence of their exchange. 

Margaret is temporarily immobilized after Thornton's departure.

After this staggering tempest, the dynamic between these two strong-minded individuals is forever changed. After this day, Margaret never again raises her voice to argue against him. In fact, the very next day she finds herself defending Thornton to a grieving and bitter Higgins.

The end of the verbal battles between Thornton and Margaret comes precisely at the half-way point of the book. The remaining two hundred pages of the story reveals a softer, meeker Margaret in relation to Thornton. She is jolted into taking a closer look at the man behind the master's mask.

Thornton is too bitterly jealous to really see a softer and repentant Margaret.

But wait, isn't there still bristling friction between these two passionate people throughout the second half? Yes, of course. But it no longer stems from any perceived ideological or character differences. Outbursts in this portion of the drama erupt not from an indignant Margaret but from an emotionally tortured Thornton, who simply cannot control his bitter jealousy.

The potent tension between Thornton and Margaret after the failed proposal is the result of repressed passions and the accumulation of misunderstandings. The unfortunate havoc wrought by Frederick's appearance convinces Thornton that Margaret loves another and causes Margaret to believe Thornton could never love a confirmed liar. The mistaken belief that they are despised by the other costs both of them almost two years of unnecessary suffering.

This is wholly romantic tension, which has nothing to do with socio-economic conflicting opinions. And it is not resolved until those final pages (or the illustrious train station scene), when their pathetic illusions dissolve in the glorious light of reality.

The very last page has playful arguing between the lovers -- perfect.

Was it Love at First Sight for Thornton?

Valentine's Day has come and gone, but I'm still thinking about the celebration of romantic love. It's the perfect reason for taking a closer look at the dizzying emotional whirlwind we call "falling in love." Eros is that that form of love that can make mature adults suddenly feel like awkward teenagers and send perfectly rational people into frenzies of mildly insane behavior.

Was it love at first sight for Thornton when he met the Southern girl from Helstone? Something definitely happened in those first few moments of being in Margaret's presence that rocked the mill master's world.

The book's first meeting between John and Margaret may seem dull compared to the explosive action in the BBC's version of North and South, in which the vicar's daughter plays the moral hero against the onslaught of violence erupting from the cotton factory's CEO. But if you take a closer look at Gaskell's narrative, the scene she wrote is far from dull. Although Margaret is wishing her father's Milton contact would leave so she could take a nap, there are some internal fireworks going on inside the Thornton systems that the man can barely contain. 

BBC's John Thornton surveys newcomer Margaret Hale

Let's take a look at what's going on with Thornton. He's taken by surprise the very moment Margaret enters the room: first, because she isn't Mr. Hale (or a little girl) and second, because she is "a young lady of a different type to most of those he was in the habit of seeing."  

What is is that sets Margaret apart from the rest? What is he seeing? She has a self-composed natural dignity, a straight-forward unabashed manner, a simple yet elegant costume, and a beautiful countenance. All this he notices in a few seconds.

Then Margaret speaks: "Mr. Thornton, I believe." 

And he can't even formulate a response! "The ready words would not come."

He's standing there, staring at her, already tongue-tied. Can you picture this? I hope he at least remembered it's not polite to leave your mouth hanging open!

Since Thornton seems mute, Margaret takes command of the social situation. Explaining that her father will return soon, she asks Thornton to sit. Here's how Thornton -- venerated Milton magistrate and master over hundreds of men -- reacts: 

"Mr Thornton was in habits of authority himself, but she seemed to assume some kind of rule over him at once. He had been getting impatient at the loss of his time on a market-day, the moment before she appeared, but now he calmly took a seat at her bidding." 

He manages to utter something about going to find her father. And as she replies about the house her family intends to take, Thornton suddenly feels that the place he approved for the Hales in Crampton will not be good enough "now that he [sees] Margaret with her superb ways of moving and looking."

Okay, so now she at least got him to sit down, but I don't think he's been able to take his eyes off of her. I mean, he's known her for less than two minutes and he's internally raving about "her superb ways of moving and looking?!" I think the man has been gobsmacked.

Margaret, however, has no clue she's causing any internal combustion. But as she takes off her shawl and takes a seat in front of him, Thornton is drinking in every detail of her feminine appearance: 

"... her full beauty met his eye; her round white flexile throat rising out of the full, yet lithe figure; her lips, moving so slightly as she spoke, not breaking the cold serene look of her face with any variation from the one lovely curve; her eyes, with their soft gloom, meeting his with quiet maiden freedom."

There's only so much that Gaskell can describe while staying within the confines of Victorian propriety, but with these well-chosen words I am imagining Thornton's gaze roving over Margaret's body in a way that is unmistakably sensual. He's watching her lips as she speaks and noticing her bare neck? Whew! But that's not all. If his eyes are sweeping up to notice her throat "rising out of the full, yet lithe figure," I think we can assume he hasn't missed surveying the ample curves found below the neck. Ahem.

Go ahead and read that passage again and visualize where Thornton's gaze is lingering. The physical attraction is potent. 

Yet, it's not merely physical attraction that enchants him. 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.

So how does this unexpected powerful attraction to a woman impact Thornton? He's thoroughly discombobulated. He can't formulate full sentences in response to Margaret's attempt to make conversation. He's irritated and mortified to recognize that "while he looked upon her with an admiration he could not repress, she looked upon him with proud indifference." He feels inadequate as a match for her and feels resentment rise at the thought that she must look down on him. And when it's time for him to leave, her respectful bow to him makes him feel "more awkward and self-conscious in every limb than he had ever done in all his life before." 

I love that he exits that scene almost literally off-balance! Even walking is a new sensation when Margaret is in the room.

Can we, then, certify that Thornton has fallen in love at first sight? Well, let's see if we can tic the boxes on a few common elements of what falling in love often looks and feels like:

• Undeniable, strong physical attraction.  √
• Vaulted admiration of character/qualities. √
• Feeling awkward, self-conscious, and unworthy. √
• Bumbling, stuttering like an idiot. √

Whether or not his feelings can actually can be called "love" after such a brief encounter, Thornton has all the symptoms of falling for Margaret at their very first encounter. 

And it only gets worse from him as the story continues. Poor man.

What does North and South mean to you?

If you're like me, you first discovered Gaskell's story as a captivating drama on film. The BBC's television adaptation of North and South made Milton come to life, and brought a little known romantic hero -- John Thornton -- into glorious, palpitating presence on the world stage with a reverberating gasp.

Strangely enough, I didn't feel the impact of my first viewing like I'd been struck by lightening. I only re-watched the ending once (or maybe twice!). I didn't even realize how much I had been pulled into the power of the drama until I found myself constantly reimagining scenes and wondering about the characters's feelings. I plunged into C19 (an Internet forum) within days, because I needed to ask questions. I needed to talk to someone about this story. And I've really never stopped wanting to talk about it.

I've since fallen in love with Gaskell's book. I regularly see its relevance to all the pressing issues of our world today. Gaskell had a heart and mind that saw the human scene with hope.

North and South turned me into an author, it introduced me to a new world of friends and fanship, and it inspired me to dive into similar classic novels. I owe much to Gaskell's North and South, as it's given me so much to think about and to share with others. 

So what does North and South mean to me? It means so many things that lay close to my heart, that it seems daunting to try to explain. But here (beyond the fervent appeal of the gold standard for all romantic literary heroes -- John Thornton) are some of the many hopes, ideals, and concepts found in North and South that invigorate my soul and enliven my heart:

Love. Love in all its variations: erotic and romantic love, brotherly affection, self-sacrificing duty, genuine respect, and consideration for others.

The utter necessity of individuality -- forging your own path and living your own values.

Moral courage -- the strength and determination that moves us forward in crushing circumstances.

Widening our view of the world and our sphere of caring -- interacting with and learning from those different from us.

Seeing past class, gender, religion, and economic status to the equal worthiness of every human being.

Loneliness and the desperation of being misunderstood, and the corresponding desire to cherish and to be cherished.

The overpowering yearning to do good in this world, not just exist in it.

Striving for what matters most.

The possibility of a kinder, gentler capitalism that contributes to humanity's progress.

Hope of harmony in relating to our fellow beings. Finding unity among all mankind.

Finding home, finding our purpose.

These are just some of the many themes that make North and South my favorite novel of romantic love and Elizabeth Gaskell a favorite author for her hope for humanity. 

What does North and South mean to you?