“Last night. Rejoiced we are nearing England. Weather fine, all sails set. Retired worn out; slept soundly; awaked by mate telling me that both man of watch and steersman missing. Only self and mate and two hands left to work ship.”
Finally, they’re almost near England!!! And it looks like the weather’s fine, the captain got some sleep and…two more people went missing. Lovely.
Four people remain on the crew of the Demeter. A captain, a mate, a hand, and (maybe) a cook (if he didn’t already go missing). The cook isn’t usually supposed to stand night watch, but I’m sure this will change with the dire circumstances they are now under.
While the captain has never been the most descriptive man, his entries have been growing more and more terse. I believe this trend will continue…
I’m so sorry, crew of the Demeter. I wish you had better news to tell :(
“Four days in hell, knocking about in a sort of maelstrom, and the wind a tempest. No sleep for any one. Men all worn out. Hardly know how to set a watch, since no one fit to go on. Second mate volunteered to steer and watch, and let men snatch a few hours' sleep. Wind abating; seas still terrific, but feel them less, as ship is steadier.”
So we know that Dracula can control the weather to an extent, since he did so around his own castle. Does he have enough power to cause a maelstrom of this magnitude? I’m honestly not sure, but let’s say yes for the sake of the argument. He definitely could have caused a monsoon in order to achieve this exact purpose: make the men tired enough to not be fit for watch. And now I think we know his next victim: the brave second mate, who volunteered to take the helm and let everyone sleep. He’s a real one. RIP in advance, second mate of the Demeter. 🫡 (lowkey wish the first mate had volunteered, but we don’t all get what we want in life, I guess 🙄)
Indeed, I think my theory is solid, because the wind is abating now that the second mate has volunteered, almost as if Dracula is letting up on the weather now that he has what he wants. Or, he’s saving up his energy. Either way, I don’t think this is a coincidence.
“Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy with sails—no time to be frightened. Men seem to have forgotten their dread. Mate cheerful again, and all on good terms. Praised men for work in bad weather. Passed Gibraltar and out through Straits. All well.”
Nothing to see here! Guess that’s all for this one —
Kidding! It is pretty straightforward, though. There’s no time to worry about the vampire hiding in your cargo when you’re struggling to keep a ship afloat (not a sentence I ever considered writing…)! The first mate is “cheerful”, so I guess that’s good. Truly a 180 from when everyone else was ~cheerful~ from not finding something on board and he was just looking at them like 😠 LOL. Also good to know that everyone else is on good terms. Hard not to be when they have to all work together for a common goal, I suppose! I also can’t tell whether the first mate praised the men for their hard work in the bad weather or the captain did — this guy *really* needs to work on keeping accurate notes. I guess I’ll assume it’s the captain.
One thing to note is they’ve made it through a big leg of their journey and they’re right off the coast of Spain. Just to give you a bit of perspective on where they are, currently.
“All is well” Is it though, captain? IS IT THOUGH??? I don’t think so!!!
That is actually it! Glad this was a short one I could knock out!
In which Seward completes his thought (it only took him *checks notes* TWELVE days to cook it up but it’s here)…
Again, Seward uses a lot of ableist language in this entry that I do not relish. There is also implied animal death (not “shown”, just said to have happened) and mention of drugging someone. To get around this, I won’t quote these parts and will only describe them as little as I can (under the cut). I’ll also post this with the appropriate tags. If I don’t see you in this one, I hope to see you in a bit of a lighter entry! Your mental health matters <3
“Visited Renfield very early, before the attendant went his rounds. Found him up and humming a tune. He was spreading out his sugar, which he had saved, in the window, and was manifestly beginning his fly-catching again; and beginning it cheerfully and with a good grace. I looked around for his birds, and not seeing them, asked him where they were. He replied, without turning round, that they had all flown away.”
I know we have a lot to get to, but at least I finally have an answer as to how he’s catching flies — sugar! That makes sense! (Yes, that is what I’m focusing on, no I’m not sorry about it — I’ve been asking Seward about methodology for WEEKS and he just got back to me with this /j) I do wonder where he gets the sugar to spread though…I suppose if Seward is supporting his “pet endeavors” to this end, he is probably allowing him to keep sugar for this purpose. I guess that makes sense. I’m also just imagining Renfield dancing around and humming while spreading sugar…a fun image, to be sure.
Here’s where it gets bad. Last warning, y’all!
What’s not fun is that we can’t see where the birds went. And Renfield isn’t forthcoming on where they went….the fact he won’t turn around while speaking to Seward is telling in and of itself.
So Seward looks further about the room and sees two signs that point to Renfield lying about the birds flying away: feathers scattered about the room, and a drop of blood on his pillow.
Not a good sign!!! Not a good sign at all!!!! I knew this was coming, but I do love that Stoker *evokes* the message of what happened, rather than outright saying it by showing the image of blood and feathers. The art of show don’t tell comes into play once more.
A bit later in the day at 11 a.m., an attendant affirms what Seward already knows: those birds did not just “fly away”. How do they know? Well, Renfield is now sick and is…throwing up feathers. Yeah, this isn’t good.
Twelve hours later, we get an update: that Renfield was given some medication to put him to sleep and Seward took his notebook to read.
Ok, so initially when I read this I was like, “he drugged him without his consent???? To take his notebook???? How DARE he????” And yes, we can definitely look at it in that light, but before doing so, I’d recommend reading this post with the note at the bottom by @rosetyler42 (and also has really good points by @animate-mush for the later points in this post, which I’ll also address). TL;DR, the point raised is that there’s a good chance Seward actually gave Renfield the medicine to help him go to sleep because of his illness. I agree that he likely has food poisoning after what he’s eaten and, as someone who’s had this, you do not feel very good! It would make sense that Seward — as a doctor — would give him medication to treat it, though in this case, the treatment would likely mean putting him to sleep for a time. With all of the nausea and pain he’s in, that actually has some sense to it.
Of course, in the meantime, Seward *will* take the opportunity to read Renfield’s journal. He may be treating his patient (and whether you believe he actually is treating him, or that he solely drugged him to get the notebook is your choice — I know he hasn’t being the most ethical person lately), but he’s not going to miss the chance to peek through the personal belongings while he can! That’s just how Seward is.
Note: this next part is where he uses the majority of his ableist language. I don’t mention it in my thoughts, but wanted to give a heads up for anyone who hasn’t read the entry yet and was wondering where this starts.
Seward finally completes his thought (and I can’t really skate around the implications, so apologies for this): Renfield is setting out to absorb as much life as he can, and he intends to do this by way of a mini food chain, with him as the top predator. Seward is quite interested in what would have been his later steps, and if anything scientifically important could be achieved by this.
Yes, this is where he brings up vivisection, but as the post I linked states, this is more of an example of what was considered to be a strange scientific method that turned out to be useful, rather than him wanting to perform this on Renfield. Don’t get me wrong, the fact that he brings up vivisection as his first thought is…strange, I won’t deny that. But I think it’s more his brain nerding out on science things, rather than wanting to do a vivisection. What he does what to do is get to the heart of what Renfield’s science could be capable of, if anything. However, and this is important to note, he won’t do that because he is not willing to go this far into unethical territory by continuing the experiment. Why? There’s not enough sufficient evidence to indicate positive results, as evidenced by this passage:
“If only there were a sufficient cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted; a good cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an exceptional brain, congenitally?”
(Lol, yes Seward you’re smart too <— edit: he actually means out of the norm/neurodivergent here, not smart) He also speculates on the value Renfield places on a human life — many or just one. I do think this is interesting to consider, as some of us humans do eat meat! I don’t like where Seward is going with this though!!!
I do like where he closes this train of thought with:
“He has closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives?”
That…that is very profound, Seward. You didn’t have to put that in your musings about Renfield, but you did. Something that I enjoy about Seward’s character is that he likes to get lost in philosophical musings and this is a good example of that.
“To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only wait on hopeless and work. Work! work!”
Oh, Seward! And here we reach the root of the problem, one he’s been avoiding talking about for a long time: Lucy. After all, this whole experiment-fiasco has been a distraction to keep himself from thinking of her. But what has that done for him, truly? He still ends up thinking about her, regardless. It breaks my heart a bit that he called her his new hope and that he had to begin anew after that 🥺 it’s never good to put hope as a person but…I understand what he means and it hurts!
Seward comparing God to a “Great Recorder” who will “sum up his account” is so interesting to me! It’s cool to get an insight as to his perspective on religion and how he thinks of it in a more “logical” way (and I do understand he could just be using a metaphor here, but I do think this is his logic and that’s fun to think about lol).
Finally, I love that while he still feels hopeless and bogged down by the fact that all he has to look forward to is his work, he emphasizes that he’s not angry at Lucy *or* Arthur. He wants them to be happy! It doesn’t mean he won’t still be sad, though :(
In the end, he wants a cause like Renfield has — a “strong” one he can turn to that will give him “happiness”. Will that give him real happiness though? Because Renfield sure doesn’t seem happy after his illness today. I’m just saying…
That’s all for this one! Will be putting out the others soon — sorry for the late entry on this one.
We’re out of the Droughtula! And onto the voyage of the Demeter….
“If Mr. Stoker has a problem with this he is cordially invited to rise from his mouldering grave and take it up with me personally.”
Truly, an iconic editor’s note! Matt is not playing around and, selfishly, I would love to actually see this showdown occur.
“Written 18 July, things so strange happening, that I shall keep accurate note henceforth till we land.”
Basically the Captain:
For real though, you know what this reminds me of? Jonathan Harker on his first day he noticed strange things occurring at the castle. Here’s what he said then:
“I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too diffuse; but now I am glad that I went into detail from the first, for there is something so strange about this place and all in it that I cannot but feel uneasy…”
Thanks to wanting to record his trip for Mina, he had already started taking detailed notes for the trip. These notes served him well in his time at castle Dracula.
Unfortunately, the captain of the Demeter was not taking detailed logs beforehand, but it’s telling that he begins to as soon as he notices something strange! Just a neat parallel I thought I would point out.
“On 6 July we finished taking in cargo, silver sand and boxes of earth. At noon set sail. East wind, fresh. Crew, five hands ... two mates, cook, and myself (captain).”
To note here, it has been twelve days since they set sail and it has taken twelve days to reach the point of someone logging the incidents. I suppose that’s a record above Dracula’s previous time with Jonathan, which was *three* days (really, more like two).
Also, sorry to put the answer to your post in here, @mermaid-above-water, but I figured it would be best! To answer your question of how many crew hands are on the Demeter….I’ll be real with you, I was going to take the captain’s number of “5” at face value, but @dramaticpandabear summed it up best with evidence: it’s 9. I’m going to be using their post as reference for the future when I make my notes You can get this number by adding 5 (hands) + 2 (mates) + 1 (cook) + 1 (captain). I definitely understand the confusion — like I said, I was confused too! No wonder the captain says he needs to take more accurate notes…
“On 11 July at dawn entered Bosphorus. Boarded by Turkish Customs officers. Backsheesh. All correct. Under way at 4 p. m.”
Everything seems fine here! Only thing to note is that I believe when he refers to “backsheesh”, he means the practice of bribing customs officers, sooo that’s fun. /s
“On 12 July through Dardanelles. More Customs officers and flagboat of guarding squadron. Backsheesh again. Work of officers thorough, but quick. Want us off soon. At dark passed into Archipelago.”
So it looks like this time they got less of a warm welcome, with more customs officers investigating their cargo. More backsheesh, and they had to leave the port much more quickly. Notice how they’re not finding anything strange in their cargo, say a “human”….hm….
“On 13 July passed Cape Matapan. Crew dissatisfied about something. Seemed scared, but would not speak out.”
At this point, they’ve just passed Greece. That’s not very far into their journey! Yet already, something strange is afoot — the crew seem scared. But about what? If I had to guess, Dracula is starting to give them strange dreams and because sailors are usually inclined to believe in the supernatural/superstition, they probably see it as a bad omen (especially if more than one of them had a bad dream). They probably don’t want to tell the captain though, either due to him not seeming to believe in the supernatural or not wanting to worry him (or because of one of the mates, who is a skeptic).
“On 14 July was somewhat anxious about crew. Men all steady fellows, who sailed with me before. Mate could not make out what was wrong; they only told him there was something, and crossed themselves. Mate lost temper with one of them that day and struck him. Expected fierce quarrel, but all was quiet.”
Yikes, I already don’t like this mate. He comes across like a massive jerk. The rest of the crew reminds me a lot of the villagers of Transylvania — steady, but scared. Crossing themselves and refusing to speak further on the matter….very much like the innkeeper and his wife when asked about Dracula. Perhaps they’ve seen other signs of his presence at this point as well (a mist appearance, perhaps?). It’s telling that the crew remains uncharacteristically quiet, rather than starting a fight after the mate hits one of them: this tells me they’re trying not to attract attention. But from what?
“On 16 July mate reported in the morning that one of crew, Petrofsky, was missing. Could not account for it. Took larboard watch eight bells last night; was relieved by Abramoff, but did not go to bunk. Men more downcast than ever. All said they expected something of the kind, but would not say more than there was somethingaboard. Mate getting very impatient with them; feared some trouble ahead.”
The first very strange thing has happened: a crew member — Petrofsky — has gone missing. That leaves them with 4 hands now, down to eight on the ship total. This is obviously affecting the captain negatively as he did not rest even after a watch. As for the “larboard watch eight bells” phrase, larboard was an archaic word for port (the left side of a ship), so he must have been assigned to watch that side, and as for eight bells, eight bells is the common signal on board a ship that a watch has ended.
We are also given a new name of one of the crew members: Abramoff. I’m going to imagine he’s one of the four remaining hands (it seems it was common practice to not have the cook stand watch at night, so I don’t think it’s the cook), since the captain keeps referring to his mates as just “mates”, though this could be proven wrong with time.
Again, the crew is much like the Transylvanian villagers: scared, yet resigned. They know already something like this was going to happen. However, one of the mates seems to be getting more and more impatient with them…
“On 17 July, yesterday, one of the men, Olgaren, came to my cabin, and in an awestruck way confided to me that he thought there was a strange man aboard the ship. He said that in his watch he had been sheltering behind the deck-house, as there was a rain-storm, when he saw a tall, thin man, who was not like any of the crew, come up the companion-way, and go along the deck forward, and disappear. He followed cautiously, but when he got to bows found no one, and the hatchways were all closed. He was in a panic of superstitious fear, and I am afraid the panic may spread. To allay it, I shall to-day search entire ship carefully from stem to stern.”
We get the name of another crew member: Olgaren. If he is another hand (and I feel like the captain would’ve specified if he wasn’t) we now know 3/5 names of the crew hands. We also get more information on a new mysterious incident — this time they have actually spotted a strange man aboard the ship, though he turned to mist (what I think happened) before Olgaren could find him). Finally, the captain has decided to take some action to allay the crew’s fears. Good!!
“Later in the day I got together the whole crew, and told them, as they evidently thought there was some one in the ship, we would search from stem to stern. First mate angry; said it was folly, and to yield to such foolish ideas would demoralise the men; said he would engage to keep them out of trouble with a handspike. I let him take the helm, while the rest began thorough search, all keeping abreast, with lanterns: we left no corner unsearched. As there were only the big wooden boxes, there were no odd corners where a man could hide. Men much relieved when search over, and went back to work cheerfully. First mate scowled, but said nothing.”
I like the captain’s delegation with giving the first mate the helm here. No use making the man search when he was obviously going to be complaining and degrading their worries the whole time. We also get it specified that this was the first mate: I choose to believe it was the first mate who’s been complaining this whole time and the captain just wasn’t taking accurate notes about it, though I could be proven wrong.
As for the boxes having nothing to hide….oh boy. That’s funny. Not in a haha way. But it is funny. Because they truly have no idea what lies in one of those boxes, but alas, the creature who resides in there is currently mist (if I’m not mistaken) and they cannot see the truth.
Of course, they don’t find anything and go cheerfully back to work. Good for morale, not good for the long-term.
That’s it for this Demeter’s log. Can’t wait for the next one!
In which the Hale family says goodbye to Helstone….
The poem at the beginning, which is part of a larger poem known as In Memoriam, really sets the scene for a lovely place like Helstone and what’s it means to leave it. The larger poem’s theme is about understanding and working through grief — a fitting theme for this chapter.
“The rooms had a strange echoing sound in them,—and the light came harshly and strongly in through the uncurtained windows,—seeming already unfamiliar and strange.”
I love how Gaskell captures the surreal feeling of seeing a place you’ve lived in, now empty. It is strange to hear more echoes (due to the lack of furniture — acoustics, am I right?) and every room gaining more brightness from the windows with no curtains. When this happens, it feels almost as if you, in the simple act of moving furniture and other objects of living out, have removed all of the life out of it as well. It is a very strange feeling and it’s one I’m glad Gaskell touches on!
“Mrs. Hale’s dressing-room was left untouched to the last; and there she and Dixon were packing up clothes, and interrupting each other every now and then to exclaim at, and turn over with fond regard, some forgotten treasure, in the shape of some relic of the children while they were yet little. They did not make much progress with their work.”
I know they have work to do, but this is such a sweet image. And I’m glad Mrs. Hale is at least given a bit of time to look over — and think about — old memories with the children. It’s nice :) and relatable, I’m the same way with my old stuff lol.
“Down-stairs, Margaret stood calm and collected, ready to counsel or advise the men who had been called in to help the cook and Charlotte. These two last, crying between whiles, wondered how the young lady could keep up so this last day, and settled it between them that she was not likely to care much for Helstone, having been so long in London.”
Yikes, so once again, Margaret is judged by an expression she has on her face. As if everyone expresses emotion the same way!!! Also, Charlotte is the same maid who caught Margaret crying two weeks ago so…what about that? She obviously knew why (you can’t tell me she didn’t — news travels fast in a house as small as that, and I’m almost certain Dixon said something about that being the reason for crying), so it’s pretty unfeeling of them to judge her for not crying when she’s working to get her household moved practically on her own!!!
This also made me notice something: we’ve seen characters come to the wrong conclusion about someone else’s thoughts or feelings a few times now in this book, including our protagonist. Margaret is the only one so far who has rethought her judgement and came to the correct conclusion upon second reflection. I’m not sure if that’s going to be a running theme, but it’s something I want to keep an eye on! It’s definitely something that stands out to me about Margaret’s character and judgement, that’s for sure.
“They could not understand how her heart was aching all the time, with a heavy pressure that no sighs could lift off or relieve, and how constant exertion for her perceptive faculties was the only way to keep herself from crying out with pain. Moreover, if she gave way, who was to act? Her father was examining papers, books, registers, what not, in the vestry with the clerk; and when he came in, there were his own books to pack up, which no one but himself could do to his satisfaction. Besides, was Margaret one to give way before strange men, or even household friends like the cook and Charlotte? Not she!”
I love this peek into her logic for not crying. I immediately figured she was trying to keep it together in order to make the move go smoothly, but I always love her inner voice. She’s so determined and braver than I think she gives herself credit for :))) and interesting note that she won’t cry in front of her “household friends”. I’m probably reaching here, but could this be tied to when she was silenced by that maid all those years ago in Harley Street? Or simply because she won’t cry in front of anyone except her family? Hmm…
“a robin was singing,—perhaps, Margaret thought, the very robin that her father had so often talked of as his winter pet, and for which he had made, with his own hands, a kind of robin-house by his study-window.”
This is cute! And sad. It’s always the little things you think of when saying goodbye to a home :(((
“Margaret went along the walk under the pear-tree wall. She had never been along it since she paced it at Henry Lennox’s side. Her eyes were on that late-blowing rose as she was trying to answer; and she had caught the idea of the vivid beauty of the feathery leaves of the carrots in the very middle of his last sentence”
I know she’s been busy since Lennox’s departure, but her not coming back to this spot feels intentional to me…eep!
Also, love that she sees part of the garden and remembers a specific part of his conversation. Memories are so often like that and Gaskell is masterful at putting this relatable experience to paper. I once asked a professor why she enjoyed studying the classics so much, and she told me it was because she could sometimes feel like the authors were speaking to just her, across the time and space of so many years. This is one of those times I know just what she means!
“Even now, while she walked sadly through that damp and drear garden in the dusk, with everything falling and fading, and turning to decay around her, he might be gladly putting away his law-books after a day of satisfactory toil, and freshening himself up, as he had told her he often did, by a run in the Temple Gardens, taking in the while the grand inarticulate mighty roar of tens of thousands of busy men, nigh at hand, but not seen, and catching ever, at his quick turns, glimpses of the lights of the city coming up out of the depths of the river. He had often spoken to Margaret of these hasty walks, snatched in the intervals between study and dinner. At his best times and in his best moods had he spoken of them; and the thought of them had struck upon her fancy.”
I love how it’s a quirky little detail like this that Margaret touches on and thinks of fondly. I often wonder what my friends remember about the stories I tell them!
Suddenly, Margaret hears a “stealthy, creeping, cranching sound”. She “knows” it to be a poacher that she has no fear of but…
“to-night she was afraid, she knew not why. She heard Charlotte shutting the windows, and fastening up for the night, unconscious that any one had gone out into the garden. A small branch—it might be of rotten wood, or it might be broken by force—came heavily down in the nearest part of the forest; Margaret ran, swift as Camilla, down to the window, and rapped at it with a hurried tremulousness which startled Charlotte within.”
I can’t blame her: I’d be spooked too!!! I think this also speaks to the larger issue of Margaret no longer feeling comfortable here: with the house being unfamiliar all packed up, is it any wonder she finds the outside noises, once so normal, strange as well?
“Margaret sat down on the rug, partly to warm herself, for the dampness of the evening hung about her dress, and over-fatigue had made her chilly. She kept herself balanced by clasping her hands together round her knees; her head dropped a little towards her chest; the attitude was one of despondency, whatever her frame of mind might be. But when she heard her father’s step on the gravel outside, she started up, and hastily shaking her heavy black hair back, and wiping a few tears away that had come on her cheeks she knew not how, she went out to open the door for him. He showed far more depression than she did. She could hardly get him to talk, although she tried to speak on subjects that would interest him, at the cost of an effort every time which she thought would be her last.”
Poor Margaret! Here she is, so despondent and melancholy herself, yet the minute she hears her father, she immediately straightens up and tries to act cheerful for his sake. How long can she keep this up?
I’m going to put this through a neurodivergent lens again, but this time it’s more metaphorical. So, for many ND people, they often have to “mask” themselves in order to fit into neurotypical society. This can include things like eye contact, saying things they don’t feel, pretending to express an emotion they’re not actually feeling at the moment, and more. At best, it’s exhausting and uncomfortable. At worst, it can lead to questioning sense of self and burnout. Margaret is, more and more often, putting up a kind of “mask” and setting aside how she feels about leaving Helstone. She had to do it when her father initially told her, she did it for her mother (all day, no less!), then Dixon (when she interrupted her crying session), for the mover and her household friends (love that term fyi), and now for her father again. At some point, something will have to give way and she will need to express her real feelings. Luckily, she has been able to deal with some of her emotions in private, but she has been interrupted and forced to quell it every time, which is not good! I’m worried she’s going to burn herself out if she keeps this up.
Margaret asks what her father has been up to and finally gets an answer:
“‘I went to see Widow Maltby; she is sadly grieved at not having wished you good-bye. She says little Susan has kept watch down the lane for days past.—Nay, Margaret, what is the matter, dear?’ The thought of the little child watching for her, and continually disappointed—from no forgetfulness on her part, but from sheer inability to leave home—was the last drop in poor Margaret’s cup, and she was sobbing away as if her heart would break. Mr. Hale was distressingly perplexed. He rose, and walked nervously up and down the room. Margaret tried to check herself, but would not speak until she could do so with firmness.”
And so the dam breaks. I might have spoken a bit too soon, but it still needed to be said. Again, poor Margaret :(((((( I would be crushed at hearing this too!!! Mr. Hale, why are you surprised she’s upset??? Of course she’s upset!!! I guess he doesn’t understand how long she’s been holding it in. I just want to give her a warm blanket and hugs (if she likes hugs).
“She heard him talking, as if to himself.
“‘I cannot bear it. I cannot bear to see the sufferings of others. I think I could go through my own with patience. Oh, is there no going back?’”
So, the first time Margaret cried and then sadly wished for this to be a dream, you told her (basically) to get over it and that she needed to be brave, your mind was made up — and now you’re moved to change your mind??? What happened??? It’s a little late, buddy!!!!
“‘No, father,’” said Margaret, looking straight at him, and speaking low and steadily. ‘It is bad to believe you in error. It would be infinitely worse to have known you a hypocrite.’ She dropped her voice at the last few words, as if entertaining the idea of hypocrisy for a moment in connection with her father savoured of irreverence.
“‘Besides,’ she went on, ‘it is only that I am tired to-night; don’t think that I am suffering from what you have done, dear papa. We can’t either of us talk about it to-night, I believe,’ said she, finding that tears and sobs would come in spite of herself.’”
Margaret :((((((((( she’s right though, he’s spoken to the entire village of his plans at this point, to go back now would make him look pretty bad! Also, the need to tell him she’s not suffering from his choices…when we know the opposite to be true 😭😭😭 she’s too good for both of these parents sometimes, I hope they appreciate how good of a daughter they have. Don’t get me wrong — they have their good moments — but she is so kind and giving!!! And she seems to get so little in return for that at times, at least in this moment.
Also, yeah, I can tell she’s emotionally draining herself to the limit because she’s starting to cry despite her holding it in. Speaking from personal experience, that’s not good!
“A sting at Margaret’s heart made her strive to look out to catch the last glimpse of the old church tower at the turn where she knew it might be seen above a wave of the forest trees; but her father remembered this too, and she silently acknowledged his greater right to the one window from which it could be seen. She leant back and shut her eyes, and the tears welled forth, and hung glittering for an instant on the shadowing eyelashes before rolling slowly down her cheeks, and dropping, unheeded, on her dress.”
Again, another example of her being so selfless. Oh Margaret, things will get better :((((
“Poor Mrs. Hale had cried in her way nearly all day long; and Dixon showed her sorrow by extreme crossness, and a continual irritable attempt to keep her petticoats from even touching the unconscious Mr. Hale, whom she regarded as the origin of all this suffering.”
LOLLLL that’s so petty of Dixon. I could analyze this to oblivion but…you know what? I’ll let her have this one. It’s funny and doesn’t really harm anyone — Mr. Hale’s literally asleep.
When they get to London, Mrs. Hale is remembering all of the places the last time she visited, but she also points out to Margaret: HENRY LENNOX?!?!?
LOL, that’s so funny he’s just *right there* when she gets into London. Would some people call this cliche? Perhaps. I call it “seeing the exact person you don’t want to see/maybe do (it’s complicated) at the exact wrong time” phenomenon. It happens to everyone.
“Margaret started forwards, and as quickly fell back, half-smiling at herself for the sudden motion. They were a hundred yards away by this time; but he seemed like a relic of Helstone—he was associated with a bright morning, an eventful day, and she should have liked to have seen him, without his seeing her,—without the chance of their speaking.”
She’s so real for that. Keep the memory good, Margaret! Who knows what he would’ve said had he actually spoken to you.
“They alone seemed strange and friendless, and desolate. Yet within a mile, Margaret knew of house after house, where she for her own sake, and her mother for her aunt Shaw’s, would be welcomed, if they came in gladness, or even in peace of mind. If they came sorrowing, and wanting sympathy in a complicated trouble like the present, then they would be felt as a shadow in all these houses of intimate acquaintances, not friends. London life is too whirling and full to admit of even an hour of that deep silence of feeling which the friends of Job showed, when ‘they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him; for they saw that his grief was very great.’”
Very true!!! “Laugh and the world laughs with you; weep and you weep alone”. You know who your real friends are because they will help you through times of grief, not treat you like a “shadow”. I think the fact that Margaret instinctively knows they would be treated that way at all of the places she thinks of tells me they’re not true friends and she knows that, even if she won’t fully admit it. And quoting Job to cap off the chapter is very telling of how grieved she feels!!
That’s all for this chapter (on time for once — yay!). Hopefully, they’ll have a bit of a better time in the next chapter.
In which Margaret has to make yet more decisions...
"'I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself
To soothe and sympathise.'
Anon."
I feel like this poem embodies Margaret's hopes and prayers during this chapter: to not just be happy at the good times, but to also wash away the bad times and soothe others when needed. Unfortunately, we can't say the same for her parents.
"Margaret made a good listener to all her mother’s little plans for adding some small comforts to the lot of the poorest parishioners. She could not help listening, though each new project was a stab to her heart."
Speaking of, even though she's just had a very difficult conversation with her father, she still does her best to be a sympathizing ear for her mother...yet again. Though this time it's even more painful because her mother is talking of a future they can't have anymore. What's also interesting about this passage is that we get to see Mrs. Hale taking an active interest in the parishioners! I know before I said she didn't seem to care about the parishioners, but I'm so glad this proves me wrong!!! It's sad that Margaret has to hear this though :(
“'Oh, mamma, let us do all we can,' said Margaret eagerly, not seeing the prudential side of the question, only grasping at the idea that they were rendering such help for the last time; 'we may not be here long.'
'Do you feel ill, my darling?' asks Mrs. Hale, anxiously, misunderstanding Margaret’s hint of the uncertainty of their stay at Helstone. 'You look pale and tired. It is this soft, damp, unhealthy air.'”
Nooooo Mrs. Hale that's not what she means 😭😭😭😭 I can understand why she jumped to such an extreme conclusion, though. Especially because Mrs. Hale is an anxious person and there's not much room for outside interpretation (unless Mr. Hale was getting a promotion, but he would've told her that, right? Haha, about that...).
"To soothe her mother’s anxiety she submitted to a basin of gruel. She was lying languidly in bed when Mrs. Hale came up to make some last inquiries and kiss her before going to her own room for the night."
Her mom giving her a kiss goodnight :((( I love that we're getting to see a tender side to Mrs. Hale and how she cares for Margaret for once!! It's just sad we won't see this dynamic for long...
"That morning when she had looked out, her heart had danced at seeing the bright clear lights on the church tower, which foretold a fine and sunny day. This evening—sixteen hours at most had past by—she sat down, too full of sorrow to cry, but with a cold dull pain, which seemed to have pressed the youth and buoyancy out of her heart, never to return. Mr. Henry Lennox’s visit—his offer—was like a dream, a thing beside her actual life."
How much of a lifetime has passed between this morning and evening! And wow, you know it's bad when Lennox's offer seems like a dream -- a good one? -- at this point when she was feeling horribly sad and guilty about that just a few hours ago! It makes sense, though. I can understand why even something she associated with uncomfortable thoughts could seem like such a dream now -- because, beyond her own feelings, it didn't affect her livelihood. She was still able to be herself, albeit a little shaken. Now, though? Her entire worldview has been shaken. She feels like the very youth has been sucked out of her.
"She looked out upon the dark-grey lines of the church towers, square and straight in the centre of the view, cutting against the deep blue transparent depths beyond, into which she gazed, and felt that she might gaze for ever, seeing at every moment some farther distance, and yet no sign of God! It seemed to her at the moment, as if the earth was more utterly desolate than if girt in by an iron dome, behind which there might be the ineffaceable peace and glory of the Almighty: those never-ending depths of space, in their still serenity, were more mocking to her than any material bounds could be—shutting in the cries of earth’s sufferers, which now might ascend into that infinite splendour of vastness and be lost—lost for ever, before they reached His throne."
And now, like her father, she too is having doubts of faith. While we haven't seen her religious side, I believe this shows how much her father's doubts have caused her own. After all, I imagine much of Margaret's foundational knowledge of faith would've come from her father: if he "falters", what is she to do? I think this is also her version of coming to terms with her own grief. Looking out her window and seeing the same view is almost mocking to her now. I think it's much the same feeling as when you go through the loss of a loved one and are surprised/annoyed to find the world is spinning just fine and others around you are enjoying their day, as if they don't care about your own woes. As if your world wasn't shattered.
Her father, somehow sensing her mood, joins her and offers to say the Lord's Prayer. She does and thinks:
"God was there, close around them, hearing her father’s whispered words. Her father might be a heretic; but had not she, in her despairing doubts not five minutes before, shown herself a far more utter sceptic? She spoke not a word, but stole to bed after her father had left her, like a child ashamed of its fault. If the world was full of perplexing problems she would trust, and only ask to see the one step needful for the hour."
Again, we see Margaret using self-reflection to put her father's perspective in a light she can understand and, in turn, empathize with. While her wordage was harsh (unless he would be actually considered a heretic, which I couldn't find evidence for -- if he's in good standing with the church, I don't believe it's heresy, though I could be wrong). While I wish her father had given her more words of comfort and empathy, I guess it's good she's able to take a little comfort in this -- though she seems more guilty and ashamed than anything.
"Mr. Lennox—his visit, his proposal—the remembrance of which had been so rudely pushed aside by the subsequent events of the day—haunted her dreams that night. He was climbing up some tree of fabulous height to reach the branch whereon was slung her bonnet: he was falling and she was struggling to save him, but held back by some invisible powerful hand. He was dead. And yet, with a shifting of the scene, she was once more in the Harley Street drawing-room, talking to him as of old, and still with a consciousness all the time that she had seen him killed by that terrible fall."
Oh no!!! A product of her anxious mind, this dream indicates to me that she feels that things are unresolved with Henry (which they obviously are, they did not depart on great terms). I got a lot of symbolism from this one! Henry being in a tall tree trying to reach her bonnet represents his feelings and the lengths he will go to in order to show her how much he cares. Perhaps this is something he did for her before, but now she remembers it in a new light -- and in this dream, it's more exaggerated -- because she knows there was a motive she didn't know of behind the action. But then, something new happens: he falls. This could represent the proposal itself or -- more likely -- just her anxiety of something happening to him before they can resolve their conflict. She wants to help, but an invisible force keeps her back: her own doubts/inability to accept the proposal, or just the usual paralysis in a dream. And then...he's dead. She couldn't save him. I can see this representing the death of the "old" Henry -- the one she was friends with, without the pressure or stress of knowing his feelings. Or, again, it could simply represent her inner worry something will happen to him before they can go back to their friendship.
Suddenly, she's with him again in Harley Street (a familiar setting, before she knew the anxieties of her family) and they're chatting like old times again. However, in the back of her mind, she's still thinking about his death that she just witnessed. If we take my proposal interpretation of the dream, I think this could symbolize her thinking ahead to the future, where she'll have to talk with Henry again (if she's able to visit London/Harley Street), but always thinking of the fact she refused his proposal while being unable to acknowledge it. This is made more likely by Henry doing just that (acting as if he didn't propose to her and all was normal) that same day, right after she rejected him!
Needless to say, she is not refreshed the next morning and she is not encouraged at breakfast. Mr. Hale announces his plans for the day. She knows what this means:
"By seven the announcement must be made to her mother. Mr. Hale would have delayed making it, but Margaret was of different stuff. She could not bear the impending weight on her mind all day long: better get the worst over; the day would be too short to comfort her mother."
I love to see this contrast between her and her father!!! I also love Gaskell for creating a character who doesn't delay bad news in a sea of procrastinator characters (I say, making this post almost a week late. No hate to procrastinators, but I still stand by this!). :D
"Her eye caught on a bee entering a deep-belled flower: when that bee flew forth with his spoil she would begin—that should be the sign. Out he came."
I love that she does this to make herself tell her mother. It gives us a taste of how hard this is for her -- and is also relatable. I've done something similar before to start a difficult conversation.
Sh breaks the news in the most blunt way possible. Mrs. Hale denies it at first, asking where she's gotten this impression:
“'Papa himself,' said Margaret, longing to say something gentle and consoling, but literally not knowing how."
Oh, Margaret 😭😭😭😭 I can't help but see this in a neurodivergent lens. She wants to be the comforting presence her mother needs, but in this, she can't: she's too blunt. NDs often come across as "blunt" and have difficulty expressing their emotions in a way that is expected of them. This especially comes into play when trying to comfort someone...it can often come across as "unsympathetic" or "rude" when it's usually a matter of being unable to express the emotion or not feeling it in the moment, not an intentional act of malice (as some may think). I appreciate that Gaskell notes this as Margaret not knowing how to express comfort to her mother rather than just noting she was blunt in her expression!
“'I don’t think it can be true,' said Mrs. Hale, at length. 'He would surely have told me before it came to this.'
It came strongly upon Margaret’s mind that her mother ought to have been told: that whatever her faults of discontent and repining might have been, it was an error in her father to have left her to learn his change of opinion, and his approaching change of life, from her better-informed child. Margaret sat down by her mother, and took her unresisting head on her breast, bending her own soft cheeks down caressingly to touch her face."
Ouch. Yes, he should have told you about it, Mrs. Hale, and the fact that she thinks that tells me she wanted her husband to come to her about these concerns. She believed in the foundation of their marriage. I imagine that foundation is a little shaken now.
Margaret is thinking exactly what I've been saying!!! Couldn't have said it better myself (though I suppose I tried lol). I also love that since Margaret can't offer verbal comfort to her mother -- at first -- she offers her comfort through physical touch.
Throughout the rest of this difficult conversation, I notice that Margaret does whatever she can to both ease her mother’s worries and attempt to put her father in the best light: neither task is easy, but I think she is able to guide the conversation in the way she wants fairly successfully. However, her mother is steadfast that Milton will be worse for them than Helstone ever was — not a promising start. Margaret is glad her mother is focusing on anxieties of the future rather than her father’s coverup. Especially ones Margaret can help on.
To me, this whole conversation shows that Margaret is very in-tune with her mother. She knows how to navigate the pitfalls of her worries and what to say to mitigate them into other worries. We know that her mother always needs something to worry about, so Margaret is good at steering her towards thoughts of what their future will look like. While this doesn’t quite cover up what her father did, it’s better — for now — for Mrs. Hale to be more worried about furniture removal plans (which Margaret can step in on) rather than fixating on why her husband wouldn’t have told her about his doubts sooner (which she said she would’ve “nipped in the bud” — both Margaret and I don’t find this encouraging, and I doubt Margaret can give much clarity as to why Mr. Hale covered this up without added distress). The fact that Margaret feels so much relief afterwards tells me that her mother can be unpredictable, so she wasn’t quite sure if she would be able to soothe her anxieties in the way she had hoped for.
“Throughout the day Margaret never left her mother; bending her whole soul to sympathise in all the various turns her feelings took; towards evening especially, as she became more and more anxious that her father should find a soothing welcome home awaiting him, after his return from his day of fatigue and distress. She dwelt upon what he must have borne in secret for long; her mother only replied coldly that he ought to have told her, and that then at any rate he would have had an adviser to give him counsel; and Margaret turned faint at heart when she heard her father’s step in the hall. She dared not go to meet him, and tell him what she had done all day, for fear of her mother’s jealous annoyance.”
Yikes! This sounds like a very emotionally draining day for Margaret and a very stressful wait for her father. Again, her being the mediator between these two is not a healthy dynamic and I feel for her being caught in the middle.
“Presently he opened the room-door, and stood there uncertain whether to come in. His face was gray and pale; he had a timid fearful look in his eyes; something almost pitiful to see in a man’s face; but that look of despondent uncertainty, of mental and bodily languor, touched his wife’s heart. She went to him, and threw herself on his breast, crying out:—
“‘Oh! Richard, Richard, you should have told me sooner!’
“And then, in tears, Margaret left her, as she rushed up stairs to throw herself on her bed, and hide her face in the pillows to stifle the hysteric sobs that would force their way out at last, after the rigid self-control of the whole day.”
A happy (or, at least, an emotional) resolution for the married couple, after all! It is actually good to see Mrs. Hale moved by her husband’s expression. We’ve heard she married for love, but now we get to see it.
However, it’s not so easy for Margaret. She’s had to keep in her emotions all day and be a caregiver. She knows now that she needs to leave her parents to their own devices (finally, they’re communicating!!!) and in turn, she can be alone to let her emotions out. I can only imagine what it’s like to have held in tears for that long, and it’s no wonder Gaskell uses the word “hysteric” to describe the sobs she releases after all that time kept in. I don’t know how many times I’m going to keep saying it this chapter, but poor Margaret!!! Playing the role of caregiver is hard, especially when you’re not accustomed to it and you’re not supposed to be in that role in the first place. :(
A housemaid alerts Dixon to Margaret’s crying, which….I have mixed feelings about. The maid is worried about her catching an illness, which I’m fairly sure was an actual concern at the time, but like — let her cry??? She’s had a bad day :/
So Dixon comes in and Margaret has to act as if she’s been asleep rather than crying…
“‘I’m sure I don’t know what is to become of us all. When Charlotte told me just now you were sobbing, Miss Hale, I thought, no wonder, poor thing! And master thinking of turning Dissenter at his time of life, when, if it is not to be said he’s done well in the Church, he’s not done badly after all. I had a cousin, miss, who turned Methodist preacher after he was fifty years of age, and a tailor all his life; but then he had never been able to make a pair of trousers to fit, for as long as he had been in the trade, so it was no wonder; but for master! as I said to missus, ‘What would poor Sir John have said? he never liked your marrying Mr. Hale, but if he could have known it would have come to this, he would have sworn worse oaths than ever, if that was possible!’’”
Ooooh, ok, that’s not good. Dixon, learn to know your audience! She even said such things to Mrs. Hale?? Is this the best time to pull “I told you so”s about the marriage?? I also noticed that Mrs. Hale sometimes just…straight up tunes Dixon out if she’s not in the humor to listen to her rants about Mr. Hale:
“Dixon had been so much accustomed to comment upon Mr. Hale’s proceedings to her mistress (who listened to her, or not, as she was in the humour)”
This tells me that she doesn’t always listen to Dixon either — which is good! She shouldn’t! Unless a partner is straight up doing terrible things or is horrible to you, listening to people like Dixon can poison a marriage -- even though she comes from a place of love and compassion for Mrs. Hale. That’s the funny thing — I may not agree with these characters' methods, but as to their motivations — I think they all have had good intentions so far. That's what makes this book so compelling However, in this instance, there’s a time and place to voice your concerns and Dixon is not picking the right time and place.
“‘Dixon,’ she said, in the low tone she always used when much excited, which had a sound in it as of some distant turmoil, or threatening storm breaking far away. ‘Dixon! you forget to whom you are speaking.’ She stood upright and firm on her feet now, confronting the waiting-maid, and fixing her with her steady discerning eye. ‘I am Mr. Hale’s daughter. Go! You have made a strange mistake, and one that I am sure your own good feeling will make you sorry for when you think about it.’”
And here we see Margaret pushed to her limit and…it’s really cool to see! She may not do this for herself, but for her family? Yep, that’s her at her haughtiest and most authoritative. I honestly can’t even blame her! If someone was talking crap about my dad, even if it had some truth to it, I would also do a set down like this, though I hate conflict. Thinking about it, I wonder if she would do the same to all of us if she knew we were also saying things about her dad’s actions that were perhaps not putting him in the best light….hm.
My honest reaction if Margaret set me down:
For real, though, there is something to be said about the dynamic between Margaret and Dixon. Dixon is a servant in Margaret’s home and this creates an obvious power imbalance, as there is a class gap between the two. On the other side of it, Dixon is paid a wage and is an employee of the Hale household. It’s a pretty clear unspoken rule that you don’t take smack about your boss, especially to said boss’s daughter while you’re on duty and if that person is close to them. It’s made pretty clear that Dixon knows not to do this kind of thing in front of Margaret because she knows how close the two of them are: she was just still in “I’m talking to Mrs. Hale” mode.
So, who’s in the “right” here? I want to lean towards Margaret — as she’s the protagonist, she’s had a hard day, and I can’t blame her for defending her family — but her initial thought when Dixon spoke out is she couldn't believe the audacity of a “servant” speaking to her like that. I think if she were to set someone down a similar if there were of a higher rank, that would be fine, but only a servant? That’s when the waters start to become murky: in my opinion, at least. I believe part of her arc will be treating the working class better, so I hope to see this improve! In the meantime, Dixon also needs to improve her attitude towards Mr. Hale, because it is also something that is not helping anyone in the household, especially not in this situation. Plus, there’s also the fact that some of this anger against Mr. Hale isn’t just out of love for Mrs. Hale: it’s also just a grudge against Mr. Hale for being less wealthy than she wanted him to be. So, that kind of motivation isn’t entirely selfless either.
“From henceforth Dixon obeyed and admired Margaret. She said it was because she was so like poor Master Frederick; but the truth was, that Dixon, as do many others, liked to feel herself ruled by a powerful and decided nature.”
Does she like to be ruled, or has that just been her conditioning as a servant? It is interesting that standing up to Dixon caused her to admire Margaret rather than resent her, only because she did it so absolutely and with such authority. I do know there are some people who respect you more if you stand up to them and it might just be a case of that — so I guess it’s that!
“A fortnight was a very short time to make arrangements for so serious a removal; as Dixon said, ‘Anyone but a gentleman—indeed almost any other gentleman—‘ but catching a look at Margaret’s straight, stern brow just here, she coughed the remainder of the sentence away, and meekly took the horehound drop that Margaret offered her, to stop the ‘little tickling at my chest, miss.’ But almost any one but Mr. Hale would have had practical knowledge enough to see, that in so short a time it would be difficult to fix on any house in Milton-Northern, or indeed elsewhere, to which they could remove the furniture that had of necessity been taken out of Helstone Vicarage.”
It is a little funny to see the visual of Dixon trying to disparage Mr. Hale’s life choices, Margaret hitting her with a glare, and Dixon trying to “cough” it off. However, Dixon — while saying it the wrong way — is right. The narrative even confirms she’s right. Mr. Hale giving them a fortnight to move to a whole new town is an almost impossible task! If he had told everyone sooner….
Again the issue is raised: should Dixon be allowed to complain about Mr. Hale? In private, sure. After all, as an employee/servant, Dixon has to bear some of the responsibility and consequences of Mr. Hale’s choice (which is mainly taking care of Mrs. Hale, who is sick with stress). It’s fair to be a bit grumbly about having to pack up an entire household in two weeks!
The problem is, Dixon has to be around someone she can’t complain to, something she is unused to. So, she keeps her silence, almost using it as a tool of “affront” towards Margaret — though I doubt Margaret takes notice or minds much. If she’s willing to give Margaret a “cold shoulder” treatment, this tells me that Dixon is not worried about losing her place in the household. While Margaret is coming into her own and an authority of the household, I don’t think Dixon feels threatened to be fired by Margaret.
And on Margaret’s side, silencing uncomfortable truths you don’t want to hear (while, yes, said in a slanderous way), is not the most healthy thing for her here. She needs to acknowledge that her dad is making a choice that has consequences, and those who have to deal with those consequences should have the right to complain (at least, I think so). Just because someone is a servant doesn’t mean they don’t have valid complaints.
In her defense, though, that’s also her dad Dixon is insulting and she is insulting him here. Her reasoning for silencing the complaints could also be a) lowering the general dissent in the household (which is valid) b) avoiding further distress of her parents (who could be in the vicinity) c) wanting to relieve her own stress (listening to others complain is exhausting) and d) she knows complaining will solve nothing (and if she could stop her mother’s complaining, she probably would!).
If any of the above reasons were nailed down as to why she silences Dixon here, I would probably just go “girlboss!!! What a queen!!!”, but I still can’t get the whole “audacity of that servant!” thing out of my head and I think it needs to be acknowledged again. Still, I can’t blame her for wanting to set someone down for insulting her father. In other words, like everything in this book, it’s nuanced.
“So many arrangements depended on this precision that Margaret resolved to ask her father one evening, in spite of his evident fatigue and low spirits. He answered:
“‘My dear! I have really had too much to think about to settle this. What does your mother say? What does she wish? Poor Maria!’”
?????????????????? Mr. Hale….you can’t…you can’t just pull a “I’m too busy” here. Like??? Take some responsibility for your actions, man!!!
And then he gets upset when he learns that Mrs. Hale is sick from stress! Like, yeah, that’s bad…but what else did he expect springing this on her at the last possible minute, only giving her two weeks to leave their home of twenty(?) years? And now, his daughter — who is trying to plan this ENTIRE move because he’s currently just saying goodbye to everyone and seeming to not do much to help — asks him for help, and all he can say is, “I can’t think about that right now”? I’d be SO pissed!!!!!
Mr. Hale right now:
See, I have trouble feeling sympathy for him when he does things like this. He hasn’t even found a house for them to live in yet!!!!! What kind of fathe—*gets tackled by Margaret*
I regret nothing.
Anyway…
“Now, since that day when Mr. Lennox came, and startled her into a decision, every day brought some question, momentous to her, and to those whom she loved, to be settled.”
As the old adage goes, “when it rains, it pours.” Doesn’t it always seem like one life-changing event triggers off a series of others? If Margaret was allowed to pass this weight on to her parents, this wouldn’t be such an issue, but the fact of the matter is that she’s forced to bear the brunt of this responsibility all on her own — and that’s tough!!! I wonder if she imagines Mr. Lennox’s offer changing their circumstances any: it wouldn’t have, likely. As many of you have pointed out, he himself is struggling and was honestly relying on her to be the rich one in the relationship — so I highly doubt it. Honestly, this might have made this whole thing harder if she had accepted his offer, because then she would’ve had to explain them moving and the reason behind it…I don’t know if that would’ve gone well. Still, inwardly she may have wondered if she has doomed her family by refusing to marry him, though I hope not!
"'I have hit upon such a beautiful plan. Look here—in Darkshire, hardly the breadth of my finger from Milton, is Heston, which I have often heard of from people living in the north as such a pleasant little bathing-place. Now, don’t you think we could get mamma there with Dixon, while you and I go and look at houses, and get one all ready for her in Milton? She would get a breath of sea air to set her up for the winter, and be spared all the fatigue, and Dixon would enjoy taking care of her.'”
Another great idea from the problem-solving queen!!!! This is probably the only way this move can work, if we're honest. Heston has good air and allows for Mrs. Hale's comfort. Plus, it gives them the time they need to find a home. It's genuinely a good plan!
“'Is Dixon to go with us?' asked Mr. Hale, in a kind of helpless dismay.
“'Oh, yes!” said Margaret. 'Dixon quite intends it, and I don’t know what mamma would do without her.'
“'But we shall have to put up with a very different way of living, I am afraid. Everything is so much dearer in a town. I doubt if Dixon can make herself comfortable. To tell you the truth, Margaret, I sometimes feel as if that woman gave herself airs.'
“'To be sure she does, papa,' replied Margaret; 'and if she has to put up with a different style of living, we shall have to put up with her airs, which will be worse. But she really loves us all, and would be miserable to leave us, I am sure—especially in this change; so, for mamma’s sake, and for the sake of her faithfulness, I do think she must go.'
“'Very well, my dear. Go on. I am resigned.'"
LOLLLLLL, ok, I have to admit Mr. Hale pulling a whiny "do we haaaaaveee to" about bringing Dixon is pretty funny. I can't totally blame him -- would you want the servant that constantly bad mouths you to go on this trip AND be left alone with your wife to bad mouth you some more?
However, let's get serious here. Um, yes!!! Of course they're bringing Dixon and here's why (other than just what Margaret says):
Mrs. Hale doesn't need any more change in her life -- look at how stressed she already is. How much more stressed do you think she will be if Dixon -- her maid of so many years -- is forced to stay behind?
Someone needs to take care of Mrs. Hale. Dixon is the obvious choice. While Dixon disses Mr. Hale like there's no tomorrow, she is so loyal to Mrs. Hale it's not even funny! And, this is important to note, Margaret could stay behind with her mother -- in theory -- but considering the fact that Mr. Hale won't even decide something as simple as where to move furniture, I doubt he would be able to decide on a home. Margaret no longer trusts him to make big decisions in their lives -- she's determined now to be a part of the process. That's not a great look for Mr. Hale.
Experience. Who knows if the other maids know how to handle a move? We know Dixon does, because she did so once before: when Mrs. Hale was married. It might not be a super big difference, but it's good to have someone who can adjust to this kind of change fast.
Considering Mr. Hale hasn't been around to make decisions, should he even get a say on wether Dixon comes along or not? Technically, he does, as head of the household, but in my heart...NOPE. He lost his chance on decisions a while ago. Either step up, or step out of the way.
I also love that Margaret stands up for Dixon and confirms she loves the family! They may be at odds, but she is still a part of them.
Mr. Hale asks how far Heston is from Milton and she replies it's thirty miles -- not far! Mr. Hale starts to reply that it's not far in miles, but fair in....something (he cuts himself off). This indicates to me that he's going to miss his wife!! Which is super sweet! I won't even pull a "consequences of action" thing...this time. Count yourself lucky, Mr. Hale.
"And now Mrs. Hale could rouse herself from her languor, and forget her real suffering in thinking of the pleasure and the delight of going to the sea-side. Her only regret was that Mr. Hale could not be with her all the fortnight she was to be there, as he had been for a whole fortnight once, when they were engaged, and she was staying with Sir John and Lady Beresford at Torquay."
Awww, Mrs. Hale feels the same way!!! Also very sweet. It's sad they have to be separated, but that's the way it has to be for a while. I also think it's sweet that this makes her think of their engagement days: maybe that will help in the days to come.
That's all for this chapter: excited to see what happens tomorrow!
