me + mr thornton, episode 3(c)

[Continued from here (episode 3a), and here (episode 3b), as episode 3 was threatening to top six thousand words. This is the concluding piece of episode 3. Previous pieces of the argument: here the prologue; here episode one; here episode two. Same disclaimers / warnings apply as in previous posts. At this point, it’s going to start to get brutal. No need to defend Mr. Thornton from me, though. I still love him. It may be helpful to keep in mind the way I started this series in the prologue: “What I write about Thornton … I also write of myself.” So, yeah — this is self-criticism I’m writing here, as I recognize my behavior in Thornton’s. ]

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The beginning of the muddle: Mr. Thornton (Richard Armitage) glimpses Margaret with Frederick at Outwood Station in episode 3 of North & South. Source: RichardArmitageNet.com

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A quick reminder here, from the two previous posts, that I’m pursuing the reading that episode 3 most fully presents the defeat of principle for Thornton. It’s shaken as a result of the rejected proposal; we see him wrestling with it in the exchange with the Lennoxes and Aunt Shaw in London. Finally, in the narrative encounter with the death of Leonards, we see what happens when Thornton transgresses.

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The final plot strand for Thornton in episode 3 points out that you may be happy in all kinds of weather as long as you’ve got your principles — or, as long as you actually hang onto them. But even your values can be taken away from you, if you surrender them yourself. Perhaps controversially, I see Mr. Thornton’s greatest moral transformation in the series occurring in response to what I see as his greatest defeat. This moment lies not in the failure of his proposal, since he emerges from the Hales’ study with his honor intact; nor in the failure of his mill, which happens, after all, because he follows principle in refusing to speculate (a matter for more intensive consideration in the next post); but rather in his decision to shield Margaret from further interrogation by the local police in the matter of Leonards’ death. In making the decision to intervene, he commits his biggest transgression against his own values of the entire series.

(I also admit that this is the point at which my reading is potentially most idiosyncratic.)

If you’re having trouble seeing Mr. Thornton’s protection of Margaret as a massive breach of principle, consider it first in light of what he has to expect from her at the point at which he makes the decision. He can’t be doing this in his own interest, as he has nothing to hope from her. She’s been repeatedly rude to him, misinterpreted his actions, and ignored or refused to believe what he’s saying (episode 1). She’s nurtured his adversaries, rejected his marriage proposal outright and attacked him for even making it (episode 2). In episode 3, little or nothing in this pattern changes. She’s seen associating with Higgins after the strike, when it looks like Thornton’s coming to visit her father, but turns away; a little later, she lies to Thornton, who’s come again to visit her father, about the presence of a visitor (Frederick); she accuses him of misunderstanding her in London, and he is not party to her defense of his intellect afterwards; and finally, she’s seen, late at night, on the arm of an unknown man at the train station. All that, against a few pregnant glances and a handshake at a dinner party seems pretty decisive. By the middle of episode 3, he’s so distanced from her that he doesn’t even feel comfortable approaching the Hales after Mrs. Hale’s funeral to express his condolences. It goes beyond the boundaries of counter-factual plot development for me, anyway, to imagine that Thornton the principled would break the public trust as a magistrate in hopes of actively taking advantage of the situation (“I protected you from the much-maligned tittle-tattle of Milton, so marry me”). Indeed, his duty to honesty might indeed oblige him, were an inquest held, to admit that he had seen her at the time and place in question; one can only imagine an ex negativo defense of silence in this case (“no one called me as a witness, so I didn’t mention it”).

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Mr. Thornton (Richard Armitage) turns — I’ve always thought in welcome distraction or even eager relief from problem of how to approach the Hales — when approached by Mason after the funeral in episode 3 of North & South. My cap.

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One could argue that even if Mr. Thornton has no hope of any “reward” to gain from her, it would still be uncharacteristically vengeful for him to expose her lie. Still — if we consider his social milieu in comparison to hers, Thornton has nothing but reasons to leave her to deal legally with the consequences of what she’s said, just as he did socially at the dinner party before the strike. Episode 2 suggests that some features of his principles are congruent with the notions of nineteenth-century classical liberalism. This stance is unsurprising, because as a mill owner, Thornton belongs to a group of men who owed their success to ideas about the inalienable rights of man, the necessity of freedom of conscience, the relationship of property creation to access to governance and the franchise, and the principled abandonment or outright rejection of political or social hierarchies based on inherited privilege. Across the course of the nineteenth century, men from Thornton’s social milieu gradually forced the British government to adhere more closely to the rule of law and the equality of all men before it as a means of mediating social and political dispute. Read in this light, Thornton’s decision to halt plans for an inquest in order to protect Margaret takes a frightening step. It suggests that he’s willing to bend the rule of law — a principle to which he owes both his social and legal position, and even the capacity to express his political views in government, and a principle in which, we may assume, he strongly believes — for the sake of private interest.

That the law should apply equally to all was a central tenet of classical liberalism. That the powerful bent the law for their sake of their preferences was the sort of accusation that classical liberals of the time were always making to the country’s entrenched political elites, particularly landed interests of various kinds. Particularly to “gentlemen.” And that these issues about upper class privilege are very much alive in Milton is heavily indicated by both dialogues between Mason and Margaret. “I hope you’ll forgive me for seeming impertinent,” Mason says to Margaret at the end of their first scene together, after she’s refused to react to the threat of a summons to an inquest: “I have to do my duty.” Note the way Mason’s words foreground the comparison between these two things — apparent or acknowledged social transgression, and the duty of a public servant. His questions warn her repeatedly not to lie, even as he is convinced that she has done so. Later, when he comes to inform her of the canceled inquest, Mason’s statements on behalf of the witness, who “was so positive, but now he knows he was mistaken. He hopes he hasn’t caused offense,” also point to the potential consequences to social subordinates of participating in the equal application of the rule of law. Mason’s eyes and facial gestures accuse Margaret all through the scene; only the privilege of your acquaintance with Mr. Thornton, his words imply, has saved you.

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Mason (Ben Crompton) tactfully broaches with Mr. Thornton (Richard Armitage) the likelihood that he’s caught Margaret in a lie, in episode 3 of North & South.

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The significance of social issues around equality in the prosecution of the crime obviously weighs on Mr. Thornton’s mind as this narrative strand proceeds. He ventures to say, when Mason approaches him the second time, on the stairs, that it matters even if a drunkard meets his death by violence, and refers to the distress of “one of his mother’s servants,” who’s engaged to the deceased and now grieving. The law requires the investigation of crimes against it, especially if people are hurt, no matter their social status. Thornton stills when he realizes, based on the timing of the incident, that Margaret must be lying, and his surprise is obvious to Mason. Thornton is a master of control here, I find, after his initial response to his realization that she’s lying, although as typical with Richard Armitage’s acting style, we can see the gears of his brain churning, as if the frontal lobes physically moved during cogitation. Mr. Thornton must be overwhelmed. If, at the beginning of episode 3, he still respects Margaret, saying to his mother, “I knew that she was too good for me,” since she not despises his suit out of principle — by now, she has also appeared in questionable circumstances unchaperoned — here, she has finally made herself a liar, a betrayer of principle, in a situation where the lie matters in a way that directly circumvents his own sense of principle. It’s hard to think of anything she could have done that would cause her to sink further in Thornton’s estimation.

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Mr. Thornton (Richard Armitage) clashes with his mother (Sinead Cusack) over Margaret’s behavior, and then makes his decision, in episode 3 of North & South.

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Mr. Thornton leaves Mason behind, donning his hat and knowing that he has definite decisions to make. His opening remark to his mother, as he appears on the landing of their house, that someone (we? the rather silly Jane? the swallowed pronoun is interesting here in light of the political issue) is “better off without that scoundrel, Leonards, you know,” indicates that he’s weighing, if not really endorsing, precisely the sort of argument that he would have rejected at the beginning of the previous scene with Mason — before he knew that Margaret was involved. His statement that he doesn’t know or care what the servants are saying, and neither should his mother, seems defensive, if it can be read as a reiteration of his proposal that they not speak of her anymore at the beginning of the episode. Mrs. Thornton doesn’t know, necessarily, that he’s the magistrate in this case, and it’s unclear what she would have said had she known — but in contrast to his discussions with her before the strike, he doesn’t choose to raise this issue with her, potentially because her expression of hate for Margaret at the beginning of the episode bars her in his mind as a useful conversation partner here. Leaving his mother behind him to go upstairs, Thornton is now as alone with his principles as he’s ever been.

And then follow ten painful seconds as we see him deliberating. The motion of Thornton’s head as he turns away is the same gesture he made, at the same approximate physical attitude, while departing the scene, in London. He will damage the law; he will say inevitably by his actions that Margaret is more important than Jane (even if he doesn’t mean that in the political sense that an outsider might assign to it).

And what remains for him? The factory, yet again — his progress through its snowy aisles ensues upon Margaret’s statement to Dixon that “it’s over.” Margaret is no longer in the unspecified social danger that Thornton thinks is the thing he’s saved her from, nor in actual danger of endangering Frederick’s freedom. Thornton remains — still — in the factory. Now, as we learn in the scene where Mason returns to report to Margaret, with all of his duty and none of his principles.

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 Margaret (Daniela Denby-Ashe) is confronted by Mr. Thornton (Richard Armitage) and his implied plea for an explanation for her behavior in episode 3 of North & South.

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When next we see Thornton, his defeat is complete. If he was wounded and exhausted at the end of the proposal scene, he is now aggressive. His posture indicates an intensity of emotion nothing short of rage. He seems to want some sop from her: “Have you no explanation for your behavior, that night, at the station? You must imagine what I must think.” I’ve lied for you, he implies — at least tell me that you care about my good opinion. Give me some explanation that will allow me to salvage my respect for you from this sordid mess. As she tries to say something, his glowering becomes ever more intense. And he is not minded to accept her explanation that she wishes to protect another person’s secret as soon as it’s clear it involves a man, which confirms what he had concluded anyway (risky, indiscreet behavior with a lover). He tells he acted in her father’s interest, and states — I believe quite honestly, if nonetheless with wounded pride — that any “foolish passion” he felt for her is over. She’s killed it, not by not loving him, but by acting dishonestly, by demonstrating that she is not worth of his love and thus, by taking away from him the thing he most loves: his cherished regard for principle.

To foreshadow a bit, putting that back together will require most of episode 4. It’s potentially a concomitant piece of our accepting that the problem here is not his fear that she loves a different man, but rather that the loving occurs illicitly, i.e., that she fails to behave as the principled ideal to which he can hold fast — depending on how you see it — for us to conclude that, if some kind of transformation in his character is occurring, that what Thornton learns from Margaret is not a new or a different ethics, but rather to love individual people rather than abstract principle. I’ve been skeptical about arguments for his transformation, but if I’m going to concede this point, that change might be a central piece of it. I don’t find this interpretation fully convincing, in that I can see immediate objections to it and find episode 4 to involve a decisive reembrace of principle on his part, but I may find a way to weave these things together as I start on the next piece of this analysis. As should become clear in just another paragraph or so, I’m trying very hard to leave pieces of this reading open as a way of thinking creatively about myself.

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The symbolic enigma. Margaret Hale (Daniela Denby-Ashe) standing at the Bouchers’ graves, in episode 3 of North & South. My cap.

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Before ending this reading of episode 3, we have to consider two more issues. The first is the question we raised at the beginning, but still haven’t answered: why, precisely, Thornton decides to halt the inquest in ignorance of what’s really at stake for Margaret and her family in having her lie exposed. He states explicitly that he does so for her father, though, even given the strong friendship between the two and Thornton’s lack of a father figure, it seems a little weak as an explanation. It is the best explicit justification we get, though Thornton’s rage as he delivers it may make it seem unnecessarily defensive, and thus (perhaps incorrectly) like an excuse that covers something else. As noted above, Thornton has no rational expectation of anything beyond politeness from her. I’ve also rejected the obvious explanation of explicit desire to exploit his position to get something from her, and the less potent possibility that he does not want to act vengefully. But I can think of at least two other reasons (though there may be more).

Why does he save her? We could argue that Mr. Thornton’s willingness to lie by omission here is of a piece with the fruit be brought to her mother and his ongoing visits to her father — that these gestures all attempt to relay that he is “a gentleman” or someone who thinks of matters beyond profit and possessions. If that’s the case, then the scene suggests that he’s really gone off the rails with regard to his principles, as “behaving like a gentleman” in the sense of manners turns into the manipulative games with the law “behaving like a gentleman” could involve for the landed interests of nineteenth-century England. In doing so, he replaces the landed elite with a capitalist one that also uses the law for its own interest. (I can’t resist the pedagogical aside that the reservation that this effect is not something Thornton can be seen to have wanted doesn’t mitigate that it is precisely what happened, historically.) That is presumably not the kind of gentleman Thornton wants to be, and he’s angry because Margaret’s pushed him into that role. I reject this intepretation as an overreading, albeit a suggestive one, simply because Thornton doesn’t seem like the type for passive aggression — he manages overt statements about his positions just fine without having to hint around. I read the ongoing to attention to the elder Hales as a demonstration of his principles even in the face of Margaret’s rejection, not as whiny noodling around for attention or another chance.

The last reason I would advance for his decision is the possibility that he indeed makes it out of something that could be called “love” for her — that Mr. Thornton simply is overwhelmed by his need to save the woman he loves. This conclusion would require that we conclude that his assertion that his “foolish passion” for Margaret is “entirely over” is either partially or completely false. Admittedly, common interpretations of human behavior in the modern West do suggest that covert affirmations often masquerade behind such vehement denials. While he may have come to see his attitude toward her, which he might earlier have considered in terms of principle, as “foolish,” precisely because she is not who he thought she was, perhaps precisely for that reason he is in fact no less passionate. It’s just that his love has turned to rage, and because it is no longer visible in the context of principle, or understandable as a further embrace of that, it’s something that he has to say he is rejecting. This reading would fit loosely with argument that episode 3 is supposed to demonstrate Thornton’s loss of principle and his wounded reaction to that loss.

How we answer this question — and I think a lot of viewers will be inclined to embrace the last possibility not because of my argument about principle and Thornton’s rage over its destruction, but simply because it bears all the features of thwarted romantic love — has a lot to do with how we answer the question of what Margaret means for Thornton. I leave this question open as we move to episode 4, but how you answer it will be definitive for what you think the ending of the series means. That Margaret has some symbolic meaning for Mr. Thornton just as Mr. Thornton in the series has some symbolic meaning for me stands out of question for me as an INFJ — we’re crazily symbolic interpreters — but you may choose to continue seeing the series primarily as a love story, the sort of thing romantic Victorian readers loved, and only a tale about ethics insofar as Victorian audiences loved moralistic endings in a way that presages our own love of melodrama these days. Or, and I should emphasize that I don’t find this reading implausible, you may read Margaret as the opposite pole to work in the vocational dilemma that Thornton faces. It’s either work or love, perhaps; or in a world where the payoff of work is uncertain because of factors beyond one’s control, love might be a more secure harbor than work. I’ve suggested throughout that the meaning of Margaret for him has something to do with how he sees principle.

By keeping her meaning to Thornton open at this point, however, I seek to leave as many readings of episode 4 open as possible to the end.

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to addendum to episode 3: What does Margaret symbolize for Thornton?

~ by Servetus on February 5, 2012.