Jane Eyre - Analysis
Immediately the reader is positioned on Jane's side through careful novelistic craftsmanship. From the first page, Jane is oppressed, sent off while her cousins play. We learn through exposition from John that she is a penniless orphan, dependent on the heartless Reed family; indeed, social class will play an important role in the rest of the novel. She is also a sensitive girl given to flights of fancy while reading, but she also displays her strength in her defense against John. All the elements are in place for a classic "Bildungsroman," the literary genre originating in the German literally as "novel of formation" or, as it is generally known, the "coming-of-age" story. In the Bildungsroman, classic examples of which are Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther, Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn, and J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye, the young protagonist matures through a series of obstacles and defines his or her identity.
The red-room has both deathly associations (red as the color of blood, the room's containing a miniature version of the dead Mr. Reed, and Jane's belief that she sees a ghost in it) and is a clear symbol of imprisonment. Throughout the novel, Jane will be imprisoned in more metaphorical ways, particularly relating to class, gender, and religion. Ironically, although John is the root cause of Jane's imprisonment here, the three aggressors in this chapter are all women, and Jane's one savior, it appears, was her uncle.
The chapter also introduces Gothic details with the ghost Jane thinks she sees and the revelation that Mr. Reed's body lies beneath the church. The Gothic novel, popularized in the 18th-century, utilizes supernatural, suspenseful, and mysterious settings and events to create an atmosphere of horror and morbidity. The Gothic novel is also characterized by damsels in distress (and women are frequently the protagonists); though Jane faints here, common for Gothic women, she proves herself strong-willed and determined to fight back against her oppressors.
The conflicts of social class, which were suggested in Chapter I by John's taunting of Jane, deepen here. Jane has the odd situation of being poor within a rich family. As such, her notions of poverty are skewed; as she admits, children "have not much idea of industrious, working, respectable povertyŠpoverty for me was synonymous with degradation." Her parents, too, ran into problems with class, as her rich mother's marriage to her poor father directly resulted in both their deaths.
Adding insult to injury, Bessie's song drums home Jane's status as a "poor orphan child." Jane, of course, is poor in both pitiable and pecuniary terms, without anyone to love her and without any money for self-sufficiency.
Jane's love for her doll constitutes one of the major themes of the novel, that "human beings must love something." However, being loved is just as important, and the only affection Jane receives is from Bessie, who acts as a surrogate mother figure.
Religion makes its first formal appearance in the novel through Mr. Brocklehurst. Already, we can see the religious hypocrisies Brontë exposes; he believes the deceitful Mrs. Reed over Jane, and relishes the seemingly heartless reformations that take place at school.
Fire and ice are running motifs throughout the novel; the former is associated with Jane and with positive creation, while the latter is associated with her antagonists and with negative destruction. Brontë is often subtle with these symbolic attachments; Mrs. Reed's eyes, for instance, are twice compared to ice in this chapter: "herŠcold, composed grey eyeŠher eye of ice continued to dwell freezingly on mine."
Immediately we see that Lowood's religious education does not necessarily mean the orphans are treated well. Their food is basically inedible, their lodgings are cramped, and some of the teachers are cruel. Brontë drops a few hints about the suspicious goings-on when Helen reveals that "benevolent-minded ladies and gentlemen" make up the tuition and that Mr. Brocklehurst is the treasurer of the house.
Another possible surrogate mother figure arrives in the form of Miss Temple. Her name, with its religious overtones, indicates that she is the only teacher at Lowood who truly upholds the Christian ethic.
Helen presents to Jane her Christian philosophy of forgiveness and endurance: one must bear the sins of others, turn the other cheek, and love thy enemy. Jane, of course, is at odds with this idea, believing that standing up for herself frequently means fighting back. We have already witnessed several situations in which she availed herself of these tactics, particularly the fight with John and her lashing out at Mrs. Reed. The former led to her imprisonment in the red-room, while the latter was a short-lived victory that soon turned into remorse. While Helen's Christianity is not useful for Jane, neither is Jane's attitude of self-defense; she must find and develop her own brand of spirituality.
Helen's philosophy of Christian forgiveness is tested as Mr. Brocklehurst unjustly punishes Jane. Though Jane does not fight back, she inwardly seethes and thinks, "I was no Helen Burns."
Mr. Brocklehurst's Christianity shows more hypocritical flaws. Though he claims that privation leads to purity, his relatives are dressed to the nines. He even wants to cut off one girl's naturally curly hair, demonstrating his lust for absolute power over others.
Jane explicates her need for love from others, while Helen outlines her belief that spirituality is enough. While it is clear that Jane will not accept these notions, Helen is correct in noting that Jane needs to be less reliant on others. Jane will have to find a combination of self-reliance and love from others.
As we have seen before, ice is a motif in Jane Eyre for cruel, negative destruction, and here fire fans out as a symbol of goodness and creation. The fire in Miss Temple's room warms the girls, as does Miss Temple's kindness, conversation, and treats. More interestingly, Jane burns Helen's shameful "Slattern" crown in fire; even when destructive, fire is a sort of positive destruction that obliterates evil in the world.
Jane's devotion to Helen is moving, and Helen lives out her Christian beliefs to her dying day. Jane continues to question Helen's unshakable faith‹she wonders, though does not speak aloud, if heaven truly does exist. Helen completes her representation as a Christ figure for Jane, dying so Jane can learn more of what it means to be Christian; though Jane is not willing to accept fully everything Helen espouses, the "Resurgam" tablet (placed by Jane, it seems) indicates that she has incorporated her beliefs into her own ideology.
This brief transitional chapter jumps eight years through ...
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Jane's devotion to Helen is moving, and Helen lives out her Christian beliefs to her dying day. Jane continues to question Helen's unshakable faith‹she wonders, though does not speak aloud, if heaven truly does exist. Helen completes her representation as a Christ figure for Jane, dying so Jane can learn more of what it means to be Christian; though Jane is not willing to accept fully everything Helen espouses, the "Resurgam" tablet (placed by Jane, it seems) indicates that she has incorporated her beliefs into her own ideology.
This brief transitional chapter jumps eight years through Jane's life, during which she matures greatly from an angry girl bent on self-survival into a mostly independent young woman seeking to serve others.
The mention of Mr. Eyre's visit to Gateshead also suggests he will reappear in some form later on, adding suspense to the narrative.
The introductory chapter to Thornfield plants a few narrative seeds. First, there is an obvious correspondence between Jane and Adèle, both orphans, although Adèle's living conditions are far better. Rochester's background is mysterious, made more so by Adèle's belief that he "'has not kept his word'" to her by constantly abandoning her and Mrs. Fairfax's opaque label that he is "'peculiar.'" The ghostly laugh at the end of the chapter, emanating from an area "like a corridor in some Bluebeard's castle," also ratchets up the Gothic suspense of the novel, as do Mrs. Fairfax's curious commands to Grace.
Jane's craving for experience apart from stereotypical female experience is explained in a lengthy passage: "It is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures [men] to say that [women] ought to confine themselves to making pudding and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags." She goes on, and the conflict is clear; Jane desires a life of action and independence unavailable to her as a woman.
Rochester is further cloaked in mystery in Jane's meeting with him by his refusal to identify himself to her and by his somewhat standoffish manner. Still, Jane asserts some power at the beginning of their relationship, since Rochester is placed in a weakened position‹his sprained ankle from the fall‹and is reliant on Jane for aid. Another physical impediment forcing Rochester's dependence on Jane will arise later in the novel.
The mystery concerning Rochester deepens, and this constitutes the major dramatic thrust of the novel. Gothic novels usually have a romantic component that revolves around passionate, unrequited love; Rochester's dark, brooding, nature and secretive past makes him an ideal candidate for such a love.
Part of Jane's struggle with Rochester will be assertion of her independence and equality. As we can already see, Rochester only begrudgingly admits Jane's positive qualities, criticizing her even when praising her watercolors. Nevertheless, he seems to regard her as his intellectual equal.
Regardless of what Rochester says about his superiority in regards to experience with Jane, it is clear from his lengthy, involved discussion with her that he views her, at least, as his intellectual equal. Though she has a fraction of his worldly experience, Jane acquits herself well with the complicated topics Rochester brings up, and even earns his approval at points for her thoughts. Their flirtation also unofficially begins, as Jane admits to herself that though "most people would have thought him an ugly man," he carries himself with a charismatic, detached confidence.
"Beulah" means "marriage" in Hebrew; at Volume I's poetic end, then, Jane is entertaining thoughts of marrying Rochester. However, she feels there is a "counteracting breeze" that makes this impossible.
All the allusions to the odd goings-on in the attic come to a head here. Rochester is obviously trying to sweep this episode under the rug, as his desire to pin its blame on Grace comes across as disingenuous.
However, there is nothing disingenuous about his thanks to Jane for having saved his life, and his reluctance for her to leave tells something about his wounded heart. After his bitter betrayal by Céline, he is yearning for a constant love based on more than mere physical attraction, and Jane seems to provide that.
The chapter is split into two sections: the plot developments surrounding the fire, and Jane's preoccupation with Rochester.
It is clear that Grace is probably not the culprit behind the curtains, or else Rochester would have fired her. If anything, she knows something about it that she must withhold from Jane, and the odd laugh Jane heard is most likely behind the mystery.
Jane's sense of inadequacy compared to Blanche Ingram pivots around appearance but more around class. Though Rochester is not handsome, his class and noble manners make him attractive, but Jane's personality, for all its sparkle, cannot make up for her relative poverty, especially compared to the beautiful and wealthy Miss Ingram.
Although Miss Ingram's beauty and confident manner take center stage in the drawing room, the attraction between Rochester and Jane is evident after Jane leaves, especially in his parting words to her. Miss Ingram demonstrates the snobbery and classism that strikes at the heart of Jane's curious position that she holds both at Thornfield and previously at Gateshead: poverty in the midst of great wealth. The flip comments of the society ladies about their governesses‹and their casual ignorance of Jane in the room‹make Jane a virtual prisoner of her social standing.
Yet another prisoner lurks at Thornfield: Grace. In her third-floor hideaway, she is "as companionless as a prisoner in his dungeon." "Prisoner" is a loaded word for Jane Eyre, suggesting imprisonment far beyond physical confines. However, the mysterious events and hints surrounding Grace suggest she may not be companionless, after all.
The marriage pantomime has obvious parallels to Jane's romantic anxieties. While she cannot believe Rochester actually prefers Miss Ingram to her, she does believe he can only marry someone of Miss Ingram's elevated social position. Jane is no bride, but a "Bridewell," imprisoned by her social class and confined to limited romantic possibilities.
The Gothic element of the novel continues with the fortune-teller. Brontë creates suspense both by ending the chapter on a cliffhanger‹what will Jane's fortune reveal?‹and by not revealing the nature of Miss Ingram's disturbing fortune.
The Gothic element of fortune-teller mingles with the novel's Gothic romance once Rochester reveals his disguise; mysticism and the supernatural give way to Rochester's burgeoning love for Jane. The reader is also delighted to see that he is aware of Miss Ingram's mercenary designs on his estate. Rochester's ability to disguise himself also speaks of his hidden, secretive identity.
In a novel that otherwise focuses on Jane's internal world, Brontë keeps the action moving by constantly introducing new pieces of the mystery of Rochester's past; here, Rochester's feelings concerning Mason apparently reverse completely without any explanation.
It is unclear what prompts Rochester to change his tack with Jane; obviously, he is discussing her in his hypothetical story before revealing that Miss Ingram, supposedly, is his object of desire. Jane describes Rochester's face as "losing all its softness and gravity, and becoming harsh and sarcastic" when he names Miss Ingram. There is little doubt that Rochester prefers Jane to Miss Ingram, so to bolster the romantic plot of Jane Eyre, Brontë continues piling on to the mystery of the room on the third story. Whoever is in there‹and how it relates to the "error" Rochester committed in his youth‹is preventing Rochester's marrying Jane, much more so than the presence of Miss Ingram does.
Jane's ample growth is demonstrated when she returns to Gateshead. Whereas John Reed fell into a dissolute lifestyle, Georgiana became a spoiled debutante, and Eliza became an aloof, emotionless woman, Jane has dedicated her life to helping others with humility. The initial cold reception from the Reed girls, then, does not disturb Jane as it once might have, nor does Mrs. Reed's unforgiving hatred on her deathbed.
In fact, Jane tells her aunt that "'you have my full and free forgiveness: ask now for God's; and be at peace.'" Jane seems to have found a third way with religion, far from the evangelical posturing of Mr. Brocklehurst and removed from the all-encompassing and self-destructive tolerance of Helen Burns. Jane is forgiving for the past ills done her by Mrs. Reed; they did not destroy her, but only made her stronger. Helen, on the other hand, seems to have been destroyed by her utter forgiveness. The meek, in Jane's eyes, shall not inherit the earth, but neither do the powerful.
In the midst of this emotional chapter, Brontë throws in a twist with the letter from John Eyre. He hints at having accumulated a fortune, so Jane's economic status is again complicated: a poor tutor who squabbles with her wealthy employer over a few pounds before she leaves for Gateshead, she may finally be due some money.
Rochester's impending marriage is vague. Not only does Rochester avoid answering questions about it, he only says that his carriage "'will suit Mrs. Rochester exactly.'" The name could apply to any woman who marries him and, as such, leaves open the possibility that he intends to marry Jane.
The long build-up to Jane and Rochester's romance culminates in Rochester's marriage proposal, but a greater change comes about within Jane. Oppressed much of her life because of her poverty, she asserts her validity as a person to Rochester, regardless of her material wealth: "'Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? ‹ You think wrong! ‹ I have as much soul as you, ‹ and full as much heart!'"
Jane has so much soul and heart, in fact, that she is not necessarily willing to submit her desires to those of someone else. While her search for being loved drives Jane Eyre, Jane is understanding that attachment to others comes at a price, and she will not sacrifice her autonomy: "'I am a free human being with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.'" Her relationship with Rochester, however, promises the opportunity for a balance of love and independence.
Jane discusses her shock at hearing Rochester call her "Mrs. Rochester": "'Because you gave me a new name ‹ Jane Rochester; and it seems so strange.'" She reminds us that the title of the book is Jane Eyre, and that this name will always define her identity as an independent woman. "Eyre" is a 14th-century word that means "a circuit traveled by an itinerant justice in medieval England or the court he presided over," and derives from the Old French word "errer," "to travel." If this etymology was Brontë's intention, then the name is ironic. While Jane travels far mentally as she develops into a woman‹she is an avid reader, an artist, a musician‹her physical journeys are quite circumscribed compared to those of the globe-trotting Rochester.
Jane asserts her desire for both economic and emotional independence. She wants to earn her keep at Thornfield, and her teasing of Rochester, as she calls it, is to ensure she does not completely submit her will to his.
It should be obvious by now that the woman who entered Jane's room is related to the laughter from the third story and from the fire in Rochester's room (especially because the woman uses a candle as she investigates Jane's closet). It is also clear from the ripped wedding veil that the woman harbors hostility toward the wedding, and that Rochester is still covering something up by claiming the woman was Grace.
Jane's devotion to children, both in her dream and when sleeping with Adèle, also speaks, as she says, to her departure from her childhood identity of Jane Eyre and her ascent into married adulthood as Jane Rochester.
The loose ends are tied up with the revelation of Rochester's marriage to Bertha: the laughter from the third story, Rochester's early error in life and desire for a new wife, Mrs. Fairfax's warning to Jane to be on her guard, the fire in Rochester's room, and the interloper in Jane's room. Just as Jane has trouble deciding how to judge Rochester, the reader, too, is in a difficult position, especially since the times are different now. Obviously, in modern times Rochester would simply divorce his insane wife and be done with her; in Victorian England, such an arrangement was not so easy, and his imprisonment of Bertha would not be considered quite so barbaric.
Jane narrates the bad turn of events with relentless imagery of ice: "A Christmas frost had come at midsummer; a white December storm had whirled over June; ice glazed the ripe applesŠ" As before, ice symbolizes destruction, cruelty, hopelessness, and death. In this moment of despair, Jane reaches out to God. While she does not have blind faith in Him (as evidenced by her inability to speak the prayer), God is her last salvation and her last chance (so she believes) to be loved by another.
Although Jane's departure from Thornfield is her third major exit from a place after Gateshead and Lowood, it is by far her hardest decision. If she stays, she enjoys the love of a man whom she admits she worships, as well as the luxury that his wealth affords (but this is of secondary concern to Jane).
However, if she stays, she feels she will lose self-respect, and more than the love of others, Jane's quest is for self-love and independence. As she puts it to herself, "I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself."
Why will marriage destroy Jane's independence? Jane continually uses the excuse of Rochester's marriage to Bertha, but this is most likely not the true reason‹after all, she was at times hesitant about marriage before she learned about Bertha. Rather, we can view Rochester's marriage to Bertha as a symbol for the inequalities of Victorian marriage‹especially in the way it imprisons (literally, in Bertha's case) the female. Jane is worried about similar imprisonment, particularly from Rochester's higher social standing and the proprietary feelings he has for her (note his frequent pet names for her).
Rochester's marriage to Bertha has other implications. Bertha has been identified as a Creole, meaning she is white but was born in the British-colonized West Indies, or she has some actual black ancestry. If we read Bertha's status as a metaphorically imprisoned "colony" of the British empire, then it is safe to assume that Brontë saw the same issues of colonization in marriage.
Jane, seeking autonomy throughout the novel, finally receives it‹and promptly abandons it. Freed from the bonds of marriage at Thornfield, she learns that truly independent living means sleeping outdoors, scavenging for food, and giving up all dignity. She leans more heavily on God in this chapter, and, indeed, it is a religious man, St. John, who proves her salvation. At the chapter's end, Jane relinquishes whatever independence she previously claimed: "'I will trust you. If I were a masterless and stray dog, I know that you would not turn me from your hearth tonight: as it is, I really have no fear. Do with me and for me as you likeŠ'" She willfully succumbs to the identity of a stray dog, putting her faith in others rather than in herself.
Brontë draws an obvious contrast between the altruistic, kindly Rivers children‹Diana, Mary, and St. John‹and the spoiled, cruel Reed children‹Eliza, Georgiana, and the far from holy John. That St. John is a parson indicates Jane's view of religion will undergo further revision as she seeks a Christian model applicable to her life.
In fact, Jane cites Christianity in her defensive speech to Hannah: "'Some of the best people that ever lived have been as destitute as I am; and if you are a Christian, you ought not to consider poverty a crime.'" Once again, Jane is out of sorts financially. Whereas before she was consistently a poor figure in a rich environment (in the Reed house and at Thornfield), she is here identified as a beggar. Although she has indeed been begging, Jane resists this definition, seeking an identity divorced from money.
Jane finds greater intimacy with the residents at Marsh End, and there is a reason for this not yet revealed in the narrative. The astute reader will notice some connections between the fortune left by the Rivers's uncle and that of Jane's own uncle John.
St. John's calculated, somewhat cold Calvinism is not an ideal Christian model for Jane, as she finds in it "a strange bitterness; an absence of consolatory gentleness." While Helen Burns's doctrine of tolerance and forgiveness was too meek for Jane, St. John's is far too intolerant and unforgiving.
Jane has come full circle; she was once a neglected, poor orphan at Lowood and is now headmistress of her own school. Following in the mold of the kindly Miss Temple, she resolves to help her students who, while not orphans, are poor and largely uneducated. In fact, Jane nearly turns to snobbishness when describing the students, and must remind herself that "these coarsely clad little peasants are of flesh and blood as good as the scions of gentlest genealogy."
Such a scion comes in the form of the stunning Miss Oliver, the first example in the novel of someone who is rich, beautiful, and good-natured (everyone else has only one or two of the qualities).
St. John is much like Jane; unwilling to give up his independence for love, he would rather seek his own calling in life than be beholden to someone else, even someone he might love passionately.
Without much fanfare, Jane is, indeed, finding her calling as she teaches girls who are much like she once was. Without romance on her mind, except for the occasional nightmares about Rochester, she is learning to love and be loved in a stable, affirming community.
Various clues from before‹including that of Jane's wealthy uncle John, the fortune the Rivers children were cut out of by their uncle John, and the scrap of paper St. John tore from Jane's paper‹come together in a satisfying way that allows the reader to overlook one of the more improbable events: that Jane, purely by accident, came across her long-lost cousins.
Although the fortune is a deus ex machina plot twist that, as Jane says, gives her a victory she "never earned and do[es] not merit," she has, in many ways, earned it. By being selfless, humble, and eschewing the fortune Rochester would have given her in return for her virtual servitude, Jane is most deserving of a gift that will finally give her true independence.
Autonomy again appears as Jane's main desire. Though the idea of being a Christian missionary appeals to her and would add structure to her life‹and continues her notion of servicing others‹she is unwilling to be imprisoned in yet another marriage. While she disdained Rochester's marriage because, although she would be loved, she feared a status of inferiority, she refuses St. John's proposal because love would not even enter the equation.
Jane thus rejects St. John's model of Christianity, as she formerly rejected Helen Burns's and Brocklehurst's. While St. John's Christianity is neither overly meek nor hypocritical and corrupt, his is too dutiful and not emotional enough. As Jane said earlier, he has not found his peace with God, and his religious zeal seems more mechanical rather than human.
The continuing debate between Jane's need for autonomy and her desire to succumb to St. John's powers continue, but the outcome is rarely in doubt. Instead, Jane's love for Rochester deepens, and she now has the tools needed for a liberated marriage: self-esteem, the love of others (including relatives), financial independence, and an identity she has carved out on her own. While St. John would most likely batter these traits as he leads Jane through his missionary work in India, a marriage to Rochester would no longer squelch these qualities.
With such assurance, Jane can now also turn to religion in a positive, healthy manner, one different from all other models she has observed: "I...prayed in my way ‹ a different way to St. John's, but effective in its own fashion. I seemed to penetrate near a Might Spirit; and my soul rushed out in gratitude at His feet." Jane's spirituality that has neither the hypocritical postures of Brocklehurst's evangelism, the meekness of Helen Burns's forgiveness, nor the detachment of St. John's proselytizing, but attains a transcendence of love and connection lacking in the philosophies of those three.
While the fire at Thornfield destroyed both Rochester's estate and his eyesight, fire continues to be a positive force, even through destruction, in at least one respect: it has killed Bertha Mason, thus opening the door for Rochester's remarriage to Jane. In another sense, the fire levels the playing field more between Jane and Rochester; while she has recently gained her own fortune, he has lost much of his.
That Rochester's eyesight is gone seems no impediment to the love between him and Jane, since it was never founded upon physical attraction. As the innkeeper says about Rochester and Jane, "'nobody but him thought her so very handsome.'"
Jane's search for religion culminates with the mystical union between her and Rochester. Their bond is based on a profound, spiritual connection that passes through God.
Jane's independence is asserted here, both in her own words ("'I am an independent woman now'") and by a symbolic action at the end of the chapter: "I took that dear hand, held it a moment to my lips, then let it pass round my shoulder: being so much lower of stature than he, I served both for his prop and guide." Though Jane is of "much lower stature" than Rochester‹she comes from humbler origins‹she now has sufficient strength and independence to lead Rochester and, indeed, he is dependent on her for it. Her quest for autonomy is complete, and it does not exclude a happy marriage to someone she leaves.
Two major themes‹Jane's desire for love and her search for religion‹mingle with her greatest preoccupation, her need for independence, in different ways. As we have already seen, she has blended love with independence in her marriage with Rochester: "To be together is for us to be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company."
However, Jane is also able to maintain a spiritual relationship with God without sacrificing her independence. St. John, on the other hand, is not, as his letter to Jane reveals: "'My Master,' he says, Œhas forewarned me. Daily he announces more distinctly, ‹ ŒSurely I come quickly!' and hour I more eagerly respond, ‹ ŒAmen; even so come, Lord Jesus!'" Brontë ends the novel on this note to underscore the connections between St. John's religious devotion and her concern with female subjugation. Unlike St. John, Jane fears yielding her will to her "Master" (or husband), and Brontë has used Bertha's imprisonment in the attic and Jane's imprisonment in the red-room as symbols for the ways in which Victorian society can confine women in marriage or in any other regard. Thus, Brontë concludes the novel on a critique of religion while demonstrating that marriage need not incorporate its restrictions of individual will.
