Class Blog

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. 

From the very beginning of Daisy Miller by Henry James, Winterbourne takes it upon himself to learn about Daisy. He describes himself as having “… a great relish for feminine beauty; he was addicted to observing and analyzing it…” (James 8). This statement in itself is extremely creepy. Winterbourne, a 27 year old man, wants to analyze the beauty of a young American girl. The use of the words “observing” and “analyzing” are very scientific, which hints to the original publication’s subtitle, “A Study.” During their first conversation, Winterbourne continues to dissect Daisy’s words and actions in an attempt to discern whether or not she is as “innocent” as her appearance suggests. He comes to the conclusion she is not a “coquette” (which he has experienced in the form of married women *eye roll*), and that she is simply “a pretty American flirt.”

From this first conversation and throughout the novel Winterbourne fixates on the fact that while Daisy is a flirt, she is not aware that her actions are frowned upon. He seems to use this fact to justify his attraction to her. Winterbourne’s “study” of Daisy’s behavior is very unreliable. He projects the idea of innocence on her, while evidence shows that she does in fact, know how her behavior is perceived; “It seems to me much more proper in young unmarried women than in old married ones” (James 50). This line shows Daisy knows much more about European social standards than Winterbourne believes she knows. She essentially says she believes her behavior should be considered normal, and she makes no change to her flirtations just because she is in Europe and not America.

Winterbourne’s “study” of Daisy could easily be called an obsession instead of a study. His view of her is warped; he sees her as he wants to see her rather than who she really is. His belief that she is “innocent” is not based on fact, it is based on his own desire for her. He also follows her to Italy after only knowing her for a few days at Vevey. Instead of Daisy Miller being about Daisy Miller herself, it is really about Winterbourne’s idea of Daisy Miller.

As Winterbourne escorts Daisy to her date with Giovanelli, he declares: “that I intend to remain with you” (James 39), insisting that he will accompany her whether she likes it or not. Daisy responds with calling him out on “dictating” to her. Winterbourne tells her that she is making a mistake and that himself is the “right gentleman” whom she should listen to as opposed to acting as she pleases. This is the first scene in this novel where Winterbourne tries to interfere with Daisy’s way of living and subtly suggests to her that what she does is not different, but wrong, in Europe. As jealousy ferments in him, Winterbourne becomes increasingly more upfront about his readiness to “correct” Daisy’s behavior. He goes out of his way to find Mrs. Miller when Daisy isn’t at the hotel, to literally educate her on how to teach shame into Daisy. But thankfully, as readers we are spared the discomfort of having to read that scene since Winterbourne gives up on his notion.

Winterbourne is a character who is so pre-occupied with narrating what is happening around him, that he rarely reflects upon himself. He reminds me a lot of Nick Carraway from The Great Gatsby, who declares from the first chapter that he detests judgements but somehow shamelessly contradicts himself throughout the novel. Winterbourne sees himself to be an upholder of European tradition, while courting a lady, who is older than himself, in Geneva. He likes to act like the mature and reasonable gentleman around Daisy but in fact, he is deeply frustrated by Daisy’s indifferent attitude towards him. And Winterbourne has an irresistible urge to offer protection and guidance to Daisy Miller, because he thinks of Daisy as vulnerable and ignorant when it comes to European conventions or what people think of her. On the other hand, Daisy is in fact keenly aware of who she is, and of what people think of her. She admits that “I’m a fearful, frightful flirt! Did you ever hear of a nice girl that was not” (49). Her speech is powerful, and she is courageous in the face of her own true identity, which instills fear and almost admiration in Winterbourne and puts him to shame.

In Daisy Miller, the titular character is harshly judged by society due to her deviance from societal norms. However, the novel is filtered through Winterbourne’s perspective, and he is the least confident in his conclusions about Daisy’s motivations and values. Winterbourne frequently talks to other characters about Daisy, and most of these conversations are centered around if Daisy is an innocent young women obliviously defying societal norms, or a rebellious flirt intentionally defying convention. The word “innocence” is consistently utilized and debated in these conversations, which connects to whether Daisy’s fate should be viewed as tragic or inevitable.

A significant conversation about Daisy’s innocence occurs between Winterbourne and Mrs. Costello, who is a staunch observer of European social norms. Winterbourne defends Daisy and Mrs. Miller, stating “They are very ignorant­- very innocent only. Depend upon it they are not bad,” to which Mrs. Costello replies “They are hopelessly vulgar…Whether or not being hopelessly vulgar is being “bad” is a question for the metaphysicians. They are bad enough to dislike, at any rate, and for this short life that is enough” (James 33). In this passage, the triviality of European social norms becomes evident. While Mrs. Costello appears confident in her assessment of Daisy, she ultimately acknowledges she is incapable of judging her character. She does not deny that Daisy could perhaps be innocent, but she implies this is irrelevant, saying she is “hopelessly vulgar.” However, she emphasizes her inability to make the ultimate assessment, as she acknowledges that she is not a metaphysics, or a philosopher that makes conclusions about the nature of existence. Since this ultimate judgment of character is missing, the “society” takes this role of instating moral values and expectations. Since Daisy and Mrs. Miller are “bad enough to dislike,” Daisy’s innocence becomes irrelevant. Mrs. Costello, in her “short life” is content to unquestionably follow these expectations. However, by describing her life as “short” and reverting ultimate moral assessments to philosophers, the novel emphasizes the ultimate triviality and malleability of these judgments.

Arguments about Daisy’s innocence continue throughout the novel. These conclude at Daisy’s funeral, when Mr. Giovanelli states “she was the most innocent,” to which Winterbourne questions “The most innocent?” and Mr. Giovanelli affirms “The most innocent!” (James 63). By the end of the novel, Winterbourne continues to be unsure of Daisy’s agency in her decisions. However, this conversation has more weight than before, because it questions whether Daisy is responsible for the decisions that lead to her death. Winterbourne questions Mr. Giovanelli’s confidence in Daisy’s innocence, yet never makes an assured conclusion either way.

The word “innocent” is repeated throughout the novel as Daisy’s agency is debated and questioned. By the end of the novel, Winterbourne, who once was a staunch defender of Daisy’s lack of “blame,” is left unsure of her naïveté. This reflects the novel’s critique of these judgements. The characters’ conclusions about Daisy seem confident, yet are repeatedly changed and qualified. The reader is left to decide whether Daisy is a helpless victim or intentional rebel. However, the way that her innocence is inconclusively debated highlights the ultimate triviality of these concepts.