Category: Fall 2020

Fairy language is constantly used throughout the novel Jane Eyre. Many of this language comes from the character of Rochester, that constantly compares and calls Jane magical creatures like witch, elf, sprite, fairy, and more. Jane is generally characterized with fairy-like characteristics as well, including being small statured and often compared to a bird. Besides Jane, the character of Bertha in the story is also characterized as a mythical creature, but she is instead mainly called a vampire and has a habit of being people and sucking their blood. Most of the characterization of humans as mythical creatures comes in the description of these two women. Besides this, Jane herself often focuses on, hears, and mentions mystical creatures. One of the instances that Jane brings up the subject is when she first sees Rochester arriving, and is frightened when remembering a tale Bessie had previously told her.

“….all sorts of fancies bright and dark filled my mind: the memories of nurses stores were there amongst other rubbish; and when they recurred, maturing youth added to them a vigor and vividness beyond what childhood could give. As this horse approached, I remembered certain of Bessie’s tales wherein figured a North-of-England spirit, called a “Gytrash”; which in the from of horse, mule, or large dog, haunted solitary ways, and sometimes came upon belated travelers, as this horse was now coming upon me. “

Ironically, Rochester is the traveler in this situation and he is the one who has becomes “ambushed” by an unexpected creature on the road, his horse slipping on the ice and injuring his leg. This curious reversal of the roles in the situation puts Jane once again into the role of the fairy tale creature. This furthers the point that much of the representation of mythical creatures in the novel comes from women alone, despite Jane seeming unaware of her own “mystical” roles.

Notably, even the story that Jane recalls has been taught to her by the servant Bessie. While Bessie is not characterized in a mystical manner, she represents how women can wield a certain authority in the household through these “rubbish” old wives tale stories that Jane is recounting. Despite the fact that Jane puts down this tale as childish, it undoubtably left a mark on her well past childhood. The power of women’s oral tales went so far as to cause fear in the English politician and theorist John Locke, who claimed that children may be mislead by these tales and their imaginations could get out of control. In “Some Thoughts Concerning Education,” he comments “Always whilst he is Young, be sure to preserve his tender Mind from all Impressions and Notions of Spirits and Goblings, or any fearful Apprehensions in the dark. This he will be in danger of from the indiscretion of Servants, whose usual Method is to awe Children, and keep them in subjection…” Specifically, he is relating these stories to the lower class and therefore their values, and encouraging those of higher class to separate from these fairy tales. The connotation between lower class and fairy tales is also interesting in looking at the character of Jane, who is of course infatuated with them herself despite often putting them down as unreal and childish.

In Jane Eyre, Bertha Mason serves as an unintentional antagonist since she is the major hindrance to Jane and Rochester’s marriage. Bertha’s mental illness and power are implied to be a result of her upbringing in the West Indies, reflected in the colonialist descriptions of this landscape.

In chapter 24, Rochester’s description of his marriage to Bertha demonstrates how the text characterizes Bertha and the West Indies as a source of moral corruption and entrapment. Rochester states, “it was a fiery West Indian night; one of the description that frequently precede the hurricanes of those climates…the air was like sulfur streams— I could find no refreshment anywhere” (Bronte 433). This description of a “fiery,” sulfuric environment convey images of a toxic, overpowering atmosphere. The eminent hurricane expresses the ‘instability’ of the West Indies. Rochester cannot find “refreshment,” and therefore escape from this uncomfortable, foreign setting. The environment of the West Indies is comparable to a hellish landscape, reflected in Bertha’s moral and mental degradation.

The hellish description of the West Indies is mirrored in Bertha’s actions. Rochester recalls that Bertha “threw her last bloody glance over a world quivering with the ferment of tempest… my ears were filled with the curses the maniac still shrieked out; wherein she momentarily mingled my name with such a tone of demon-hate…no professed harlot ever had a fouler vocabulary than she” (Bronte 434). The violent landscape described as a “ferment of tempest” is reflected in Bertha’s loss of mental control, leading to disturbed behavior. She is dehumanized as a “maniac” and “demon” with “bloody eyes,” creating an image of a monster rather than a woman. Bertha is also compared to a “harlot,” or prostitute, which reinforces her sinful nature connected to her sexuality. Therefore, Bertha is both mentally ill and uncontrollably immoral, which is implied to be a product of her surroundings.

These images of an unmanageable, hellish landscape combined with Bertha’s ‘insanity’ portray the West Indies as a site of  moral degradation. Rochester, since he is a foreigner, is able to ‘escape,’ yet is still tempted to succumb to sin through suicide. However, he is also permanently trapped by his experiences there through his marriage to Bertha. The portrayal of the West Indies as an overpowering force simultaneously removes Rochester’s blame for his situation and reinforces colonialist attitudes of  “civilizing” other cultures.

Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilised by education: they grow there, firm as weeds among stones (Brontë XXIX.395.15).

Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre (1847) is narrated by the titular character, whose upbringing and education afford her a place in the middle-class as a governess that would otherwise be out of her reach had she been left to the squalor of orphan life. Jane’s personality and being are defined by her education. Her experience at the Reeds’ and at Lowood Institution fortified her sense of individuality, and granted her patience and compassion for others. Even in her private thoughts, an adult Jane is slow to criticize or judge the characters she encounters.

Brontë, being an educated woman who enjoyed a special place in 19th-century London’s literary circles, is using her platform to advocate for education: if prejudices are weeds, they pervade the garden that is society and disrupt the harmony between its wildlife.

In this passage, Jane the character asserts that prejudice is borne of ignorance, and must be combated with education to achieve some kind of enlightenment. Hannah, the Rivers family’s servant, refuses to provide Jane with shelter and food when the latter arrives on their doorstep one night, hungry and unkempt and soaked from the rain. Although Jane has the manners and accent of an educated lady, Hannah distrusts her and casts her away. Jane argues that Hannah’s prejudices prevent her from helping out a stranger in need. The “weeds” harden her heart into “stone” and render her indifferent to a fellow human who is in a dire situation. While Jane makes an astute point that Hannah’s prejudices limit her ability to show compassion and mercy, she misses the point by insinuating that Hannah’s lack of education rendered her prone to bias.

The characters quickest to judge and disregard Jane throughout the novel often belong to the educated elite class. The Reed family treats her like an garbage, even though she is related to them, because she’s an orphan and the product of a unprofitable marriage; Mr. Brocklehurst is a religious hypocrite who siphons money from Lowood to support his luxurious lifestyle while making the girls live in squalor; and Rochester’s inner-circle of “friends” spend their time gossiping and insulting their social inferiors. So, contrary to Jane’s assertion, education does not enlighten the beholder with a predisposition towards charity and acceptance. If anything, the elite use their education as another quality that elevate them above the working class and the poor. Let’s not forget how Rochester, upon meeting Jane, claims or believes that his privilege—an upper-class education and the means to travel and enter different social circles—make him better than the young, humble Jane. While Rochester has these experiences under his belt, he is still an asshole.

There are plenty of educated literary characters in 19th-century novels that are quick to judge and hold immense biases. One notable example is Mr. Darcy from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (1813), whose opening lines present a “universal truth” that sounds a lot like the passage from Brontë’s novel. Under this analysis, Brontë’s line in her seminal work becomes a diss, a calling-out: she is suggesting that the elite are as prone to prejudice—the supposed product of ignorance— as the uneducated working class; and their more fortuitous stations in life do not necessarily make them better people.

Brontë, Charlotte. Jane Eyre. Barnes & Nobles Classic, New York, 2015.

In a conventional sense, Rochester does seem like he almost has complete power over Jane with his social status, his wealth, gender, age and experience. But I would like to argue that with Jane, Rochester’s demanding demeanor and his so-called power not only doesn’t intimidate or weaken her but encourages her to be an equal to him. I am not arguing that their relationship is not affected by their various differences, but that these differences doesn’t affect their power dynamic because Jane is the way she is, and Rochester is aware of it.

 

The discourse between the two of them in chapter 14 is very telling about their dynamic. Rochester observes that Jane is examining his appearance, he then demands “what fault do you find with me …… Criticize me: does my forehead not please you” (138). Jane being not at all intimidated or ashamed, replies that she does not find him handsome. Rochester instills no fear in Jane because she doesn’t feel pressured by his status and wealth. Jane also selects the topics or questions she wants to respond to, and she excuses Rochester for being drunk and very talkative. When asked to talk about herself, Jane remains silent and thinks “If he expects me to talk for the mere sake of talking and showing off, he will find he has addressed himself to the wrong person” (140). She tells Rochester to “do as you please” (140) and she brings an end their conversation by leaving him. Rochester offers Jane space where she can speak freely of her mind, which is a luxury for most women in Jane’s position in the 19^thcentury. Also a result of this delicate power dynamic between them, Jane had her most powerful speech about their spirits communicating on the same level, and she left Thornfield on her own initiative.

 

Many times in chapter 13 and 14, Jane examines Rochester’s appearance and the novel emphasizes the plainness in both of their looks. Would it have been strange and creepy if the novel was written from the male perspective describing the appearance of a woman? It certainly was of Winterbourne in Daisy Miller. Why do I as a reader (I won’t speak for anyone else here) excuse Jane for doing so but not Winterbourne? Does the difference lie between the male gaze and the female gaze (because only the male gaze can be interpreted as sexual?), or in whether the person in question is beautiful like Daisy or plain like Rochester? Somehow in my mind as a reader, I feel more comfortable and more justified following the gaze of someone who has more disadvantages in this relationship. Jane is not on the powerless side in her dynamic with Rochester; intuitively she seems to be, but only because of such conventions like gender and age and social status that cloud my judgement.

Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs. We are, and must be, one and all, burdened with faults in this world:  but the time will soon come when, I trust, we shall put them off in putting off our corruptible bodies; when debasement and sin will fall from us with this cumbrous frame of flesh, and only the spark of the spirit will remain, – the impalpable principle of light and thought, pure as when it left the Creator to inspire the creature:  whence it came it will return; perhaps again to be communicated to some being higher than man – perhaps to pass through gradations of glory, from the pale human soul to brighten to the seraph!  Surely it will never, on the contrary, be suffered to degenerate from man to fiend?  No, I cannot believe that:   I hold another creed:  which no one ever taught me, and which I seldom mention; but in which I delight, and to which I cling:  for it extends hope to all:  it makes Eternity a rest – a mighty home, not a terror and an abyss.  Besides, with this creed, I can so clearly distinguish between the criminal and his crime; I can so sincerely forgive the first while I abhor the last:  with this creed revenge never worries my heart, degradation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice never crushes me too low:  I live in calm, looking to the end. (p. 49)

 

Why does the author place this passage here so early in the story and so early in Jane’s life? And why does she use the voice of such a young child to explain these profound thoughts?  Why again, as in Oliver Twist’s Dick, do we have a child so focused on his final home when he should have the whole of life before him?

 

In Religious Belief in Jane Eyre, Mary Schwingen writes “Brontë also undermines Helen’s absolute and self-abnegating religious beliefs. Jane’s questions may not plant any seeds of doubt within Helen, but the reader would be hard-pressed to miss her point. Helen and, later, St. John Rivers seek happiness in Heaven; Jane is determined to find hers here on Earth.”

 

I partially agree with the author’s statement, but I think Brontë is saying more and “happiness” is too shallow a word to describe what awaits us in the “mighty home”. Helen is sharing her view that life is too short to harbor feelings of resentment, that we should leave redemption to the Creator.  Yes, the final resting place will be Heaven, but she is trying to teach Jane how to live her life to the fullest here on earth.  She is giving guidance on how to separate the crime from the criminal, how to manage injustice which will always be present on earth.  She is providing guidance to Jane, how to put in perspective, wrongs which she will surely encounter.

 

As a result, Jane is strengthened. She challenges Helen but Helen’s being so grounded in her faith provides assurance to Jane for the future.  Jane continues to be focused on justice, but her view does change, and she is subsequently able to forgive both Mrs. Reed and Mr. Rochester.

 

The passage, then, foreshadows the wrongs that will be committed by many throughout the novel with the author’s continuous assertion that redemption will be predominant. The language used is also a precursor to what will evolve later in the novel: Helen speaks of “degeneration” from “man to fiend”.  “Degeneration” is the process that Mr. Rochester uses to describe his wife turning into a monster.  But it also describes his slow moral decline and as such his need for Jane to bring about his redemption.

 

Man and sin are undivided but seen through the Creator’s eyes, there is nothing that is not redeemable and we are given this view, this lens, early on in the novel to set a framework for how Jane may then interpret justice and sin. Looking toward a better place, a home, eternal rest where untouchable principles of thought and light and purity reside, there is no need to hold on to resentment or injustice in this world.

In chapter 27, Jane makes the difficult decision of leaving both Mr. Rochester and the comfortable life she lived as a governess at his estate. To stay and live with him, the way they wanted together, goes against her morals and values. Jane’s reply to Mr. Rochester, where she explains to him her reasoning on why she can not stay with him, is one that uses a lot of religious metaphors and reasoning. She states, “I care for myself… If at my individual convenience I might break them (laws given by God), what would be their worth?“(331). This scene may appear to show Jane’s religious devotion but it could also arguably be about the strength of Jane’s character.  Throughout the novel, we see Jane’s character thought the ways she stands up for herself. While Jane still may love and forgive Mr. Rochester for the deception surrounding his status as a bachelor, that does not mean that she is okay with continuing their relationship and with everything going back to normal. The decision she makes to leave Mr. Rochester without a plan or money exemplifies this. She could have taken gifts from Mr. Rochester and sold them but she chose not to, emphasizing her choice of righteousness. Jane chooses to “flee temptation”(314) instead of continuing to pursue a relationship with Mr. Rochester in a marriage all but in name. The recognition that to do so would be morally incorrect, shows her mental strength and character. Jane’s individualism and trust in herself that she can make it on her own show her mental strength. In a world where women were almost always forced to be dependent on others, Jane’s desire for her independence and righteousness is both admirable and strong.

I was struck by two passages in Volume 3 because of their inherent similarity.  The bottom of pages 293 and 301 both provide references to power struggles and familial dynamics.  On page 293, Rochester says, “If the man who had but one little ewe lamb that was dear to him as a daughter,… had by some mistake slaughtered it at the shambles, he would not have rued his bloody blunder more than I now rue mine”.  Rochester equates his betrayal against Jane to a man who injures a lamb; the man and lamb are also compared to a loving father and daughter. Also on page 301, Rochester describes love, more specifically Jane’s love, as a daughter that he waits to embrace, like a father.  He explicitly states, “I accept it, Jane; let the daughter have free advent – my arms wait to receive her” (301).

These metaphors seem to imply a father/daughter dynamic between Rochester and Jane. As their relationship encompasses a large age difference, it is easy to imagine this familial dynamic placed upon them.  Jane has lived without a family her entire life and Rochester has a need to care for vulnerable characters, which leads to these implications of familial belonging and patriarchal affirmation within their romantic relationship.  I do not mean to suggest that Jane and Rochester explicitly desire this type of relationship.  However, their interactions demonstrate implications of this dynamic, whether directly or indirectly, which allows for this type of reading.  The frequent comparisons to a father/daughter relationship in Jane Eyre may simply be a tool to demonstrate the complex power dynamics present between Rochester and Jane.  As he started as her employer, their relationship always implied an imbalance of power.  In these passages, Rochester asserts power over Jane by inhabiting a father figure in his comparisons.  Each time, he describes a fragile, or even wounded, female figure who he wishes to protect and embrace; thus, these passages reaffirm his position in Jane’s life after his betrayal.

As Rochester is the one speaking in these quotations, he believes himself to be in a position of power. Yet, in Jane’s own thoughts, she describes this same notion regarding herself.  She states that she has power over Rochester by having the ability to influence his actions and emotions (297).  Jane seems to have subtle control over Rochester, which he has yet to realize as he thinks of himself as Jane’s savior.  The two passages I selected both surround Jane’s inkling of her own power, perhaps as Rochester desperately tries to reinsert himself into Jane’s narrative.  Ultimately, his comparisons fail as Jane leaves Thornfield of her volition.

In Henry James’ Daisy Miller, the romantic interest of protagonist Winterbourne, named Miss Daisy Miller, is a young lady with a bold personality. She is described from the perspectives of numerous other characters in the novel to provide the reader a chance to determine their own feelings about her. However, listening to Daisy speak may be the most useful tool to decide how the reader feels about her. To Winterbourne, she is an intriguing, witty, and beautiful woman—but her looks seem to be the driving force of his fascination. According to Winterbourne’s snobby aunt, Mrs. Costello, the Miller family is “hopelessly vulgar” as they are “intimate” with their courier and Daisy is only a “common” pretty. Mrs. Costello is a part of the high social status, so she has an understanding of the kinds of people that are also in her community. When Daisy speaks, it is often formal dialogue, especially with Winterbourne. She believes speaking this way will give the impression that she is a classy woman, not a young lady with a liking to tease others. This also exudes the impression that she is from a higher class than how she actually lives. Daisy is self-absorbed and has “main character syndrome”: meaning that she is the center of her world and other people are to do deeds for her, not the other way around because that would not make sense to her as she is the “main character” of life. She says to Winterbourne, “I like a lady to be exclusive; I’m dying to be exclusive myself. Well, we are exclusive, mother and I. We don’t speak to every one—or they don’t speak to us. I suppose it’s about the same thing” (James 20). Perhaps Daisy teases men so often because a lady is exclusive. She likes interacting with men, but being a lady is important to her. Being a lady also extends to her family—her mother—for that factors into the image of who she associates with and where she comes from. It is certainly not the same thing for a person to not speak to many others versus other people approaching that person. If someone does not seem approachable, others will not want to introduce themselves. If a person wants to interact with another specific person, it is her responsibility to introduce herself and make that interaction happen. On the same note, when Winterbourne discusses taking a trip to Rome, Daisy reaction is, “’I don’t want you to come for your aunt,’ said Daisy; ‘I want you to come for me’” (30). She has known this man for not even a full day and they by no means have a close relationship to each other, yet she wants him to do things for her. It would be very nice if they could reconnect in Rome, but her poutiness to his proposition is very off-putting all because she is not the star of the show, if he does not visit Rome specially for Daisy. When Daisy speaks, it is certainly conveyed to the reader how she views herself and how she wishes for others to view her. 

“As I have already had occasion to relate, he was angry at finding himself reduced to chopping logic about this young lady; he was vexed at his want of instinctive certitude as to how far her eccentricities were generic, national, and how far they were personal. From either view of them he had somehow missed her, and now it was too late. She was ‘carried away’ by Mr. Giovanelli.”  

 

If the use of ‘either’ refers to any of the three explanations above (generic, national, personal) (OED I.4) then the narrator offers three explanations for Daisy’s behavior: that it is so generalized as to be unrelated to her intent or motivation, that it is a national characteristic of Americans, or that it is a personal trait which she exhibits to a specific and unusual degree. If ‘either’ groups ‘generic’ and ‘national’ into one set, and ‘personal’ as the second option (as is perhaps suggested but not convincingly proven by the division of “how far…” across the list) then national traits become generic—but only, as the text proves by Daisy’s ostracization, explicitly noted earlier in this passage—within the physical space of that nation (it cannot be among all members of that nation or Americans like Winterbourne and Mrs. Walker would not be so scandalized (yes, you could argue that “we have been here too long” negates the suggestion of them possessing American points of view… but then why does Mrs. Walker continue to study Europeans “like textbooks” at her parties? If her point of view has been shifted to be entirely Eurocentric and European-esque, then continued study would be unnecessary. One could more convincingly argue that Winterbourne and Mrs. Walker represent, to different degrees, an entirely different point of view—that of the transatlantic multinational. But that’s a different blog post). The final way to read the “either view of them” is to see ‘either’ as referring to one or the other of Daisy and Winterbourne. I find this third reading the most compelling—the most common use of ‘either’ is in distinguishing between two things (or people) (OED I.1) and the rest of the sentence supports the ‘them’ allusion to the two characters: “…he had somehow missed her, and now it was too late.” ‘He’ and ‘her’ would therefore make up the ‘them’ earlier in the sentence. 

 If we move forward with this third reading then the contrast provided is between two “view[s] of them [Daisy/Winterbourne]” and this means that the narrator acknowledges that, depending on which “view of them” one takes, there are different positions for the reader to position themself within. It would also mean that regardless of which of these two views the reader experienced the text from (the Winterbourne-centered view or the Daisy-centered view) in both of them, the narrator acknowledges that “he had missed her”. This is the first time the passage entertains a “he…her” construction—earlier in the passage the structure is either reflexive (Winterbourne saying to himself, asking himself, angry at finding himself, etc.) or set up between the narrator and Winterbourne (“it must be admitted that holding oneself” “came to seem to Winterbourne”). The only direct action between Winterbourne and Daisy—that of him missing her—lays at Winterbournes feet as his own failure: whether the Winterbourne or Daisy-centric view of them has been adopted by the reader, the action is the same, and who (he) missed who (her) is the same; “and now it was too late.”   

Winterbourne is the one who dropped the ball, the one who “missed” Daisy, regardless of whether you read the novel considering Winterbourne or Daisy to be at its center. So what? So ultimately the story is of “missed” opportunity and “missed” understanding on the part of Winterbourne, and it resulted in death (the next line explains that Mr. Giovanelli has now carried Daisy away). We were searching for a moral within this novel: if you squint, and splash around in the OED a bit, you can find one in the final sentence of this passage.