Jane Eyre: The Book That Is Still Beloved By Everyone

[WARNING: this contains MAJOR  spoilers]

Jane Eyre, originally known as “Jane Eyre: An Autobiography”, is a novel by British author Charlotte Brontë, published on 16^th October 1847, under the pen name of “Currer Bell”. Jane Eyre is an intricately detailed, realistically presented account of women and their social position in 18th-19th century England; it follows the experiences of its titular heroine, Jane, and outlines her struggles as she becomes an adult and falls in love with Mr Rochester, the moody, quiet master of a manor named Thornfield Hall. Dear reader, Jane Eyre is one of my absolute favourite books; it’s considered a masterpiece by readers and critics alike! The book clearly criticises society’s treatment of women, and since the beginning, Jane is seen to be a strong-willed girl who constantly breaks stereotypes and establishes herself as her own person. A strongly evocative novel, Jane Eyre is way ahead of its time as it deals with feminism, class, sexuality and religion in a straight-forward way. Jane is definitely one of the most relatable protagonists in the history of English Literature; she has been called one of the most influential female characters of all time, and I feel it’s safe to say that she carries the book on her shoulders. As the narrative is in first person, it’s easy to connect with her and feel all the emotions she experiences throughout the book. Even in the beginning, her POV reveals her to be a thoughtful, observant child.

The novel’s setting is somewhere in the north of England, toward the end of the reign of George the Third [1760-1820]. The reader is introduced to Jane as an orphan living at Gateshead Hall—she is physically and emotionally abused by her maternal aunt, Mrs Reed, and her cousins; at one point, she defends herself against her fourteen-year-old cousin, John Reed, and is severely punished for the same—she is locked up in the “Red Room” in which her late uncle had died. Critics suggest that this little scene, while played out subtly, is significant as it lays the ground for the “ambiguous relationship between parents and children”, which is even detected in Jane’s later interactions with male figures. She is eventually sent to a charity school for girls, named “Lowood”; as is to be expected, Jane’s experiences at this place are not healthy at all; she is relieved to be away from the Reeds, certainly, but is maltreated at this school due to Mrs Reed’s untruthful descriptions of her [she has been called “a cheat” and “a liar” by her “aunt”]. However, she does bond with an older student named Helen Burns; the two girls bond over their shared love of books. Helen and Miss Temple, the gentle superintendent, become Jane’s guardians and care-takers, guiding her and keeping her spirits up in spite of the harsh treatment she has received from many others—especially the director of the institution, Mr Brocklehurst. I love Helen; however, there is an epidemic of typhus at the institution, and she is among the first to catch it. In a particularly touching scene, she dies peacefully in Jane’s arms. She was Jane’s first and dearest friend…

Don’t worry, conditions at the school improve dramatically after Brocklehurst’s mistreatment of the students is discovered—they’d been subjected to malnourishment, cold and rooms, and thin clothing; now, several sympathetic big-shots erect a new building and reign Brocklehurst in.

What does the name “Lowood” suggest to you, dear reader? That’s right, it emphasises the hurdles in Jane’s life at this point of time; she has been grievously wronged, don’t you think? The chapters dealing with her time at Lowood are, in my opinion, the most graphic and poignant.  She completes her education and stays on as a teacher at Lowood for two years, but soon leaves in pursuit of a new life. There is a certain amount of uncertainty in these chapters, as she is about to spread her wings and fly out into the wide world for the first time; she decides to advertise her services as a governess, and the advertisement is soon answered by one Alice Fairfax, a housekeeper at Thornfield Hall. [Patience. Mr. Rochester will enter soon]. Jane accepts this position and begins teaching Adéle Varens, a bright little French girl.

Jane eventually meets the master of the manor in a most unlikely manner: his horse slips on ice and unseats him; despite the man’s surliness, Jane helps him out of the goodness of her heart and gets him back on his horse. At that time, she is unaware of the fact that the grouchy man is Mr. Edward Rochester. I don’t really know what to make of Rochester as a character—I neither like nor dislike him; he is clearly quite sullen and, as is soon revealed, arrogant, as well as morally ambiguous. Adéle is the daughter of a late French dancer named Céline, who was Rochester’s mistress; she was unfaithful to him, however, and claimed that Adéle was his child, though he did not believe her [quite understandably, I might add]. Céline abandoned Adéle [what kind of irresponsible mother was she?], causing Rochester to step in and adopt her.

Though Jane does not like Rochester’s cold, arrogant, devil-may-care manner at first, she slowly warms up to him [Rochester is clearly intrigued by her and enjoys conversing with her]. He was created to serve as a love interest as well as a character foil [as a Literature student, the latter is of greater interest to me]; he represents Jane’s unbridled side, while her cool and composed cousin St. John [who appears later in the novel] represents her calm, rational side. Honestly, Rochester is pretty graphic as a character, and I see him as a “force of nature”, if you know what I mean.

Right, so…. Rather odd things begin happening at the house—a wild laugh is heard; Jane literally saves Rochester’s life by putting out a mysterious fire in his room; a guest named Mr. Mason is

attacked [bitten, in fact. Brrrrr!]. The romantic tension between Jane and Rochester is increased when he gently thanks her for rescuing him; she reciprocates his feelings to a degree, but then—oh dear. She notices that Rochester seems to favour a beautiful, talented, rich, snobbish and selfish young lady called Blanche Ingram; she does not even attempt to disguise her contempt of Jane, who is, to her narrow mind, simply a lowly governess, a woman who has to work for a living.

At that time, as all of you probably know already, class and social status were extremely important—they were the basis of the hierarchy. Women who worked for a living were looked down upon by several of the “high-class” families; it was thought that women who had a secure position in society had no need to fetch for themselves [which, unfortunately, was true for women in those times].

There’s an incident that left a deep imprint on me. Jane receives word that her cruel aunt has suffered a stroke and is dying; she travels to Gateshead and devotedly attends to her dying aunt’s needs for a month. Mrs Reed asks for her forgiveness, admitting that she wronged her, and produces a letter from Jane’s paternal uncle, Mr. John Eyre, in which he asks for Jane to be sent to him to be his heir. Mrs Reed confesses to Jane that she, out of her resentment toward Jane, lied to Mr. Eyre, telling him that the girl died of fever at Lowood. A short while later, Mrs Reed passes away, and Jane returns to Thornfield after the funeral. [I’d like your opinions on this. What emotions does this incident evoke in you? Bitterness at Mrs Reed’s extreme mistreatment of a blameless, penniless niece? Marvel at Jane’s forgiving nature? Or just inexplicable sadness?].

Back at Thornfield, Jane frets over Rochester’s impending marriage to Miss Ingram; though she is normally self-controlled and prudent, she is unable to restrain herself and ends up revealing her sincere feelings for him. Noting that she is in earnest, Rochester proposes marriage; Jane does not believe him at first, but finally accepts his proposal after realising that he means it. She writes to her Mr. Eyre to inform him of this happy news. Oh, joy!

Alas! Jane’s happiness does not last long. During their [extremely quiet] wedding ceremony, Mr. Mason and a lawyer burst in upon the scene and declare that the marriage is unlawful, because Rochester already has a wife—Bertha, Mr. Mason’s sister; Rochester was tricked into marrying her by father, as she was a rich heiress. Once they were united, however, he discovered that she was fast slipping into congenital madness. He eventually decided to lock her up and hired a seamstress named Grace Poole to look after her. When Grace gets drunk [which she frequently does], Bertha escapes and rampages around Thornfield. I assure you, that is not an exaggeration.

As it turns out, Mr. Eyre is a friend of Mr. Mason’s and was visited by him soon after Mr. Eyre received Jane’s tidings of her impending marriage. Well, of course, the wedding ceremony is broken off, and poor Jane is shattered; Rochester asks her to travel with him to the south of France where they can live peacefully even if they’re not legally married, but Jane, a devout Christian and a thoroughly ethical person, refuses to abandon her strong morals. In spite of her love for him, she leaves Thornfield in the dead of night. [I honestly felt so bad for Jane. She deserved all the happiness in the world—she has endured so much already].

Seeking other employment, Jane travels as far from Thornfield as she can, using the little money she has [very prudently] saved up. She accidentally leaves her belongings in the coach and is forced to sleep on the moor. She manages to make her way to the home of two young ladies called Diana and Mary Rivers, but collapses on the doorstep, half-dead from exhaustion. The girls’ brother, St. John, a missionary [I told you about him at the beginning of this post, remember?] rescues her; after her health improves, he finds her a teaching position at a nearby village school. She quickly befriends the sisters, but St. John remains cold and unyielding.

… There is a high possibility that Jane could’ve been happy here; she has barely any hurdles to face here, and is well-cared for [she’s also able to support herself financially. She is in a fairly good position and is employed. Self-sufficient as ever!]. However, the sisters leave to apply as governesses, and St. John, who has learnt of Jane’s true identity [he was unaware of the fact that she was an Eyre] informs her that Mr. Eyre has died and left her his entire fortune of 20,000 pounds [ that’s right! That’s a lot!]. When she presses him further, he reveals that Mr. Eyre is his and his sisters’ uncle as well, but he has not left them anything. Of course, Jane’s joy knows no bounds; she is truly happy for the first time in a while, and she insists on sharing her new-found inheritance with her cousins.

I’m sure you can see the clouds clearing. She is now in a much better position than she was before!

St. John has been observing her deeply, and has noticed how pious and religious she is; he believes she will be a suitable wife for a clergyman and, purely out of duty, asks her to go with to India. She is excited at the prospect of going to India, but suggests that they travel as siblings [they are cousins, after all]. She mystically hears Rochester’s voice calling her name. Fearing the worst, she immediately returns to Thornfield, finding only black ruins in place of the stately manor. She learns that Bertha Mason [arguably the novel’s most graphic character] set the place on fire, then threw herself off the roof. While attempting to rescue the other occupants, Rochester lost a hand and his eyesight; Jane has an emotional reunion with him, but he is afraid that she will be repulsed by his condition, weakened and dependent as he is. He inquires, “Am I hideous, Jane?” and she replies, “Very, sir; you always were, you know.” She assures him that she no qualms about spending the rest of her life with him; Rochester proposes again, and she accepts. They are married, and the author leads us to believe that in spite of their significant age gap and Rochester’s frail health, they are happy. Indeed, he even regains sufficient sight to see their new-born son!

I hope this post has managed to do Charlotte Brontë’s masterpiece justice. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—while no character is less than incredibly satisfying, Jane obviously stands out, bringing out the author’s creative genius and helping readers see the social disparities of those times through her eyes. The novel focuses as much on emotions [such as love] as it does on Jane’s personal growth—that’s why I love it! Jane is a highly relatable, unforgettable character. Jane Eyre is a book that will endure for centuries to come, beloved by readers of all ages.

That’s all for now! See you next time!

Thank you!