Coffee and Irony

It’s impossible to say how very, very much I love the BBC adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskell’s 18th century novel North and South.  Synopsis if you haven’t watched it:

North and South is a powerful adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskell’s feisty and passionate novel, set across the social divides in the changing world of Victorian industrial society. Margaret Hale is one of literature’s most original heroines: a southerner from a country vicarage newly settled in the industrial northern town of Milton. In the shock of her move, she misjudges charismatic cotton mill-owner John Thornton, whose strength of purpose and passion are a match for her own pride and wilfulness. When the workers of Milton call a strike, Margaret takes their side, and the two are brought into deeper conflict. As events spiral out of control, Margaret – to her surprise – begins to fall in love with Thornton…

I just re-watched it this afternoon, and I always forget how deeply it resonates with me, particularly the ending. The romance in this is simultaneously understated, in that in true costume-drama form the hero and heroine have relatively few actual interactions, and satisfyingly dramatic, in that the interactions they do have are packed with meaning in every detail, tone of voice, and gesture. What I love about North and South, however, is how it slowly builds upon itself – you are not immediately emotionally invested or sucked in, and a significant part of the drama focuses on a social-commentary storyline through the lives of secondary characters whom we don’t immediatley care about – but its heart and soul never falters in remaining solidly based on the romance and character development, and gradually, as the drama goes on, it builds and builds on itself with sure subtlety, until you find yourself completely invested on all levels without quite realizing it – and then it ends in a scene that draws on everything that went before, one perfect and perfectly climactic and yet deeply subtle scene that makes everything that goes before it worth it(even if it wasn’t already).

What I love most, however, is the sense  of homecoming.

I am always struck anew by this – both characters have been through so much, suffered so much tragedy and loss and instability in their lives over the past year – Margaret losing first her home and then both her parents and her friend Bessie and being forced to move from Helstone to Milton to London, and Thornton’s mill and thereby his livelihood being more and more threatened until by the final scene he has to give it up, his whole life including his house, and move with his mother somewhere else.Both bear their tragedies with incalculable courage and quiet sacrifice – I found both, to be honest,particularly Margaret, somewhat lacking when I first watched this, but everytime I rewatch it, particularly as my own life goes on and I have more experiences, I find more meaning in it, and am amazed at how the two main characters in this bear their lives with such fortitude. What I find really beautiful also is that, in the end, they’re able to support each other. Both bear their lives alone – Margaret washes, darns, cares for the household, manages Dixon, cares for her mother, keeps her mother’s condition from her father, writes to her brother, cares for Higgins and Bessie and others as much as they allow her – and all this alone – a heavy burden for her young shoulders to bear. And no one helps her in this, indeed much of it no one even knows. I was struck by how little her parents know about her actual life when she comes home after being knocked unconscious by mob violence, and she hides it – succesfully- from them. She’s just undergone an incredibly traumatic event – she could have been killed – and yet all she does is slip up, exhausted and feeling faint, to her room, and change her dress and hair to hide the blood and the bruise. She supports everyone else – but who supports her? And the same for Thornton – he makes his lonely way alone, supported only by his mother, but even she fails to truly understand him, and is part of his worry since his main focus in life is caring for her. He pours all his energy and passion into keeping the mill running in a fair and upright way, killing himself working, trying to treat the workers fairly while still keeping it running, and protecting Margaret from scandal even at cost to his own emotional stability and sense of justice. And no one knows – his is a hard and lonely life. They both lead difficult, self-sacrifical lives, driven by their principles and passions, which is why I find it so beautiful that in the end, after all their differences – for though equally passionate people, the principles they are passionate about are diametrically opposite – they are able to come together, in love, granting each other that home, that support they’ve been without for so long and need and deserve so much.

Which is why it’s so powerful for me that, at the end of this series, having struggled through so much tragedy and loss, they find each other in the midst of yet another unstable situation – both are traveling, neither at home, both unsure where their home is now and where they will find themselves in the world in the future. But the moment they set eyes on each other, they come home. Security, warmth, and belonging almost visibly envelop them the second they see each other across that crowded train platform. They’ve fought through so much misunderstanding, bitterness, anger and hurt, never having joy in each other and always being on a different page in their relationship – until now, at last, having individually and apart from the other worked through all that to come around to loving and desiring the other, they unexpectedly see each other, and all their history falls away as they find comfort in each other.  This is a very adult drama in many ways; even though the characters behave often like children in their interactions with each other, as people on their own they are each highly mature, well-developed people. How wonderful the reconcilation at the end then, when they can finally see each other, and be united, beyond their tragedies, their loneliness, their misunderstanding. Together, they will continue to do and to live as they’ve always done – justly and rightly, by the strength of their convictions – but now they’ll be doing it together. They’ve finally come home.

“He clasped her close. But they both kept silence.” (Elizabeth Gaskell, N&S Chapter 52)