Dear Victorianists,
Today in class we looked at the depiction of Bertha Mason and noted that it recapitulated numerous other moments and characters from the text. The scene in which Bertha is tied to a chair, for example, reminds us of young Jane in the red room, but also echoes numerous other scenes of imprisonment we have seen, from Eliza Reed being "walled up alive" in a convent to Mr. Rochester playing the role of an inmate at Bridewell. More broadly, Bertha as a character seems to be a version of Jane: she is "wild" and "strange", radically othered from those around her, and hemmed in by those who are wealthy and privileged. Yet she is also likened to a host of others: Blanche Ingram (who is also large, dark, and virile), John Reed (who also attacks Jane as a usurper), Mr. Rochester (who is also called a "demon" and with whom she wrestles as a near equal), etc.
As you finish the novel, keep your eyes open for other instances of doubling, echoes, and parallels. How does Jane's ending resemble her beginning? How do those with whom she has most in common resemble those whose natures are at odds with hers?
Enjoy as you read this series of illustrations from different editions of
Jane Eyre. Bronte was asked to provide her own illustrations-- like Jane she was trained in drawing-- but she refused, arguing that as her protagonists were quite unattractive there was little reason to render them visually. Since 1847, however, a host of artists have turned their attentions to the poor, obscure, plain, and little figure at the heart of her novel.
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"In sleep I forgot sorrow." Helen Sewel, 1938.
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"Young woman, rise." George Varian, 1902.
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"I took a seat; St. John stood near me." Fritz Eichenberg, 1943.
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"My heart is mute, my heart is mute." Edmund Dulac, 1905.
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| "Then Mr. Rochester was at home when the fire broke out?" Edmund Garrett, 1890. |
In class, we discussed parallels between Bertha and Jane, and the more I thought about it, the more I saw it. Bertha can be a mirror for Jane, the side of her she dares not express. While Bertha scratches and growls, Jane paints and teaches music. For Jane to fit the social construct of a Victorian governess, she must control any wild Bertha-like feelings. So when Jane gets mad about something, often it is Bertha who acts out. Mr. Rochester dresses up as a gypsy and tricks Jane; Bertha attacks Mason. Jane feels anxious about her wedding; Bertha rips her veil. It is as if only the two women combined can achieve the proper balance of agency, insight and control. And of course, the wild side, Bertha, has to die before Jane could become a wife.
ReplyDeleteWhen she first views her students Jane says, “I must not forget that these coarsely-clad little peasants are of flesh and blood as good as the scions of the gentlest genealogy; and that the germs of native excellence, refinement, intelligence, kind feeling are as likely to exist in their hearts as in those best-born.” (413) She has the level of perceptive awareness now that Miss Temple showed her when she was at Lowood. She will allow the children to prove themselves rather than take anything on word, or appearances (I really loved this line).
What I loved the most about the ending was the reversal of fortunes. Jane couldn’t marry Rochester until she and he were equals, (and until he no longer had a wife chained in his attic). In the beginning, he had everything, house, money, power…and as Jane made it clear in the heartbreaking scene in which she made herself paint a picture of a governess to remind her of her place. Now, on the return Jane has everything, family, fortune, she even makes Rochester jealous in a way similar to his mind games. Once Jane can establish herself her own life, she can allow herself to be happy. (Feminist twist: she didn’t need a man to complete her, she gets there herself—with the help of a dead relative—and then was able to have a true relationship)
I don’t think Bronte could have made a more obvious contrast than that between Rochester and St. John. Visually, they are total opposites (and due to their obsession with phrenology, that means a lot). Rochester is solid, dark eyed and haired, with a heavy brow. St. John is tale, delicate, pale, blue eyed. Character-wise as well, they are opposites. Rochester talks a lot, speaks and acts passionately and gives into pleasure. St. John barely speaks, and when he does it is calculated and severe; and he devotes his life to subduing his desires. And their reactions to wanting a woman whom they cannot have are entirely different – Rochester goes for it anyways, whereas St. John stifles his wishes. Yet there are similarities, ones which could explain how Jane could potentially end up with either of these two polar opposites. Both, like Jane herself, are strong, passionate people (even though St. John tries to stunt it, his passion expresses itself in other ways, such as his missionizing). Both are in control, natural masters, and this seems to be an attribute which Jane admires in others – she instinctively dislikes Mason since he seems weak.
ReplyDeleteIt appears as though Rochester and St John represent the warring sides of Jane, forcing her to decide which philosophy she wants to adopt – which of these extremes. Rochester is the wild side of Jane, the passionate and free-spirited aspect of herself. But as we see, she cannot give herself fully to this side – she does not succumb to her emotions, choosing her convictions instead. So she ends up, for a brief time, with St. John. But his total suppression of desire and passion does not fully express Jane either. So Jane refuses to marry him as well. Although in the end, Jane marries Rochester, she does not do so until she has become her own woman – her own balance of passion and restraint.
First, St John has to be one of the most dislikable characters who does absolutely nothing reprehensible, and in fact does a number of things that are pretty nice, but still he reeks of self-righteous bunk. Applause! Embarrassingly, this was the first reading that I realized that there are 2 Johns in Jane's life, see monster Reed. Now, on the face of things, St John reads like much more of a Brocklehurst than a Caligula, I mean John Reed, but maybe--maybe?--Brontë is suggesting that to terrorize another a kid just 'cause you think she's odd--and therefore unwelcome, terrible, etc--is parallel to judging others as less than/backwards/bestial because they aren't Christian. Both Johns find it their duty to show someone their place; one guy shoves the weirdo; the other guy shoves his religion at the weirdo. Also, being that Jane is John's cousin, is that a suggestion that all humans, including those St. John needs to "fix," are actually related.... By empowering Jane to reject St. John and his missionary program, Brontë gives Jane a redemptive moment in which she finally has the upper hand over the Johns in her life. It is the moment she fully realizes that she does not and cannot be made to something. What's fascinating though is that Brontë is never rejecting Christianity: that is Jane's one reason for leaving Rochester and the religious imagery doesn't ease up. After all, it is only after the fire consumes the Devil, aka Berta, that Jane and Edward can be together. Not to mention the intense Jesus-imagery peppering their reunion: healing of the lame and blind with obvious Redeemer and Savior connotations; the birth of a son, not by immaculate conception, I assume, but he does serve as a sort of symbol of great hope for a future of goodness and ease. But, that is not to say the son is the Jesus figure, just his birth ties the story even more closely to religion. However, there is critique of Systems, Christianity being one off them: Jane is led by personal conviction and faith, and, as seen with St. John, she rejects that which is forced on her by class/convention/religion. Even the location she ends up in, remote and mostly alone, shows that for Jane, to believe in God -- a faith that ending up with Rochester would likely only solidify -- does not translate to having to take part in the community of Christians, and definitely not the movement of preaching it. Like with Helen, who quietly, privately taught Jane what she thought it meant to really believe in God, Jane doesn't need the the system, but operates through a strictly personal journey.
ReplyDeleteFinally, regarding parallels of beginning and end, Jane's journey goes as follows: home with serious issues-->religion+school-->home with joy and butterflies, for a second, anyway-->said home turns into home with series issues-->religion+school, only, now she's the teacher--> joy and butterflies times 1000.
I feel like this book works in cycles. There is despair then some form of salvation, then again despair, and this time, hopefully a permanent salvation. On the topic of salvation, I find it intriguing how much religion is suddenly a part of Jane's life, with leaving Mr. Rochester and refusing to be an adulterer, and during her "rock bottom" when she sleeps in the forest. She says she feels the might and strength of god. Perhaps Jane has just come to realize that she can no longer depend on humans for her safety and well-being: so many have failed her in the past. Her traverse into the forest felt almost biblical to me: much like David when he wrote the psalms. It is at this time I also came to almost appreciate her narration. When Jane says that she prefers to skip most of the details of her time being homeless, I feel like I can appreciate her resilience even more so because I know she is speaking from a place of safety and comfort.
ReplyDeleteParallels are drawn between Rochester and St John. However, I find St John more akin to Jane? Both are religious, austere, orphans, teachers, practical, have love problems. His refusal to marry Rosamund is likely what outsiders might have thought the reason why Jane didn’t marry Rochester at first--some sort of fear, or lack of visible compatibility (as soul-to-soul is not physical, and therefore somewhat unobservable, as is Jane’s argument for her emotions despite her plainness and stature). The fact that St John and Jane have some sort of “romantic” plot strikes me as a begging for the paralleling of them, that the fact that they’re “compatible” is not so much that he’s the anti!Rochester but that he’s the anti!Jane or the alter!Jane.
ReplyDeleteAlthough … Jane’s presence in the Rivers household is somewhat of a return to the Reeds; an elder brother who holds centre stage and has key action with Jane, and two sisters who get less attention. Of course, they’re all cousins in this situation as well. It makes me wonder, though, that if Jane and St John are similar, and St John and John (Reed) share a name(ish), then a+b = c, b+c=a, then Jane has some sort of parallel in John Reed, and these cousins form a triad. St John sees his mission as a sort of “war,” while Jane calls John Reed a “tyrant,” “murderer,” and “emperor.” Violence seems to run through; even Jane is keen on throttling her aunt when pushed to it, although she curbs her urges.
And I think that my point is that she does everything in moderation, while the other two sit on opposite extreme ends of the spectrum. You have three strong-minded individuals with similar names and similar attributes: strong-minded, passionate, a sense of self in their given environment. John Reed is what happens if those qualities rot to excess. St John Rivers exerts such an odd control over his qualities that he becomes a stone. And Jane, aaah, she sort of sits in the middle, and retains her strength of mind and character and per passion and her tongue and keeps it in check but lets it all flow out when necessary. Rochester calls her a fairy, and he’s somewhat correct--she takes the middle, wavering path, and resides in a liminal space between constrained propriety and raging freedom. Yet she doesn’t treat her position as such, and she wears it naturally (or supernaturally). The two Johns die because of the paths their unchecked/hyperchecked traits lead them--in drunkenness and fallen ill on the mission, while Jane escapes death by fire due to the juxtaposition of her assertiveness, passion and decorum and utmost /dignity/--which is the most important part, in my opinion--and is therefore able to return and have her happy ending.