I’ve been following along with others’ progress on Twitter and via other blogs, and it’s gotten harder and harder to keep mum about the big surprises in this book, especially because the more I read, the more I remember all the reasons why Jane Eyre is my all-time favorite book.  And this section reveals the biggest plot twist of all… so let’s get right to it.  (Warning, as always: spoilers ahead.  If you haven’t read Jane Eyre and don’t want to be exposed to major plot spoilers, come back on Wednesday for a non-Jane post.)

Synopsis

Jane stays at Gateshead for a month, first at the request of her cousin Georgiana, and then at the request of her cousin Eliza.  Once Eliza and Georgiana have both departed to their own futures, Jane is free to return to Thornfield and she does so, reflecting on the way that she has never had the experience of coming “home,” before, and she feels great joy at returning to Thornfield, even though it is not really her home, or it won’t be for long – since she remains committed to her plan of seeing Adele off to school and then departing herself for another situation as soon as Mr. Rochester marries Miss Ingram.

But maybe Thornfield is to be Jane’s home after all!  Shortly after her return, one evening, Mr. Rochester tracks her down in the orchard and professes his love for her.  This is one of my favorite scenes in the book – even knowing what’s to come – because it includes so many of my favorite quotes.  So many of Mr. Rochester’s smoldering, wildly romantic declarations, and so many of Jane’s spirited declarations of independence, even as all of her dreams are nearing fulfillment and she is finally allowed to believe that she may one day become Mrs. Rochester.

The next day, Mr. Rochester takes Jane shopping and attempts to shower her with jewels and expensive dresses, betraying that he doesn’t yet quite understand her personality.  Still, Jane’s happiness extends a full month, as the wedding preparations are made.  In that time, she endeavors to bind Mr. Rochester to herself – her real self – mainly by teasing him.  (It seems to work.)  Only one encounter mars her serenity: one night, shortly before the wedding, she awakens after two nightmares to find a ghoulish figure in her chamber.  The figure looms over her, leering, and rips Jane’s expensive wedding veil in two.  It is a figure Jane doesn’t recognize – it’s not anyone she has seen in Thornfield Hall before.  When she reports the incident to Mr. Rochester, he convinces her that the intruder was Grace Poole – despite Jane’s proclamation that it was a stranger – and that Jane’s vision of a large, ghoulish figure was actually the result of a nightmare assigning Grace features she doesn’t have.  Jane accepts Mr. Rochester’s explanation, but she is still uneasy and has a difficult time envisioning herself as “Jane Rochester.”

On the morning of the wedding, Mr. Rochester rushes everyone off to church and the ceremony begins amid inexplicable haste.  The hurry is soon explained, however, when two men stand up and declare an impediment to the marriage.  {Major plot spoiler!}  Mr. Rochester, it seems, is already married.  His wife, the sister of his “friend” Mr. Mason, is a lunatic that he has confined in his attic.  Mr. Rochester first attempts to deny his marriage, but in the face of proof, he concedes that, legally speaking, he is married.  The group returns to Thornfield, heads up to the attic, and confronts the monstrous Mrs. Rochester, who has been guarded all this time – although sometimes not very securely – by Grace Poole.  Mr. Rochester appeals to the pity of his witnesses, and admits that he wanted to marry Jane, mainly, as a change from the rage-fueled maniac the law considers his wife.

After processing the situation, Jane realizes that she must leave.  Mr. Rochester obtains one final conversation, in which he pleads with her to stay and live with him, or to live in one of his French villas, or anything other than leave him – but Jane is firm.  As much as she cares for Mr. Rochester, she cannot stay and be his mistress against the laws of the land, society, and her religion.  He points out that she has no friend or relation who will worry or feel offended if she chooses to follow her heart in defiance of the law – and then comes one of my favorite parts, and please excuse me for quoting it:

This was true: and while he spoke my very conscience and reason turned traitors against me, and charged me with crime in resisting him.  They spoke almost as loud as Feeling: and that clamoured wildly.  “Oh, comply!” it said.  “Think of his misery; think of his danger – look at his state when left alone; remember his headlong nature; consider the recklessness following on despair – soothe him; save him; love him; tell him you love him and will be his.  Who in the world cares for you? or who will be injured by what you do?”

Still indomitable was the reply – “I care for myself.  The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.  I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man.  I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad – as I am now.  Laws and principles are not for the times when there was no temptation: they are for moments such as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be.  If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth?  They have a worth – so I have always believed; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane – quite insane; with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs.  Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by: there I plant my foot.”

In that moment, Jane makes the decision that even if no one else loves her, she loves herself enough not to enter into a relationship that would degrade her.  (Yeah, Jane!)  But she pays for that decision – because along with it comes her conviction that she has to leave Thornfield as soon as possible, before her will is tested beyond her capacity to resist.  She steals away in the night, spends all her money on a coach ride as far from Thornfield as she can get, and is reduced to begging for food.  Turned away everywhere, starving nearly to death, she finally collapses at the doorstep of a house, and the residents – St. John Rivers and his two sisters, Mary and Diana, take her in and nurse her back to health.

Thoughts Thus Far

Sorry for the long recap, but a lot happens in this installment!  First of all, the biggest surprise of the book: it turns out that Miss Ingram is the least of the obstacles to Jane’s happiness with Mr. Rochester, because the creep is already married!  Okay, when you hear his story, it’s easy enough to sympathize with him – forced into a marriage he doesn’t want, with a woman whose family manages to conceal their tendency toward mania, he at least tries to do something right after his wife goes off the deep end four years into their already-unhappy marriage.  Rather than abandoning Mrs. Rochester, or condemning her to death by dampness at one of his less-well-kept homes, Mr. Rochester keeps her alive and as safe as he can in his attic.  (LOLWUT?)  Of course, while Mrs. Rochester might be safe, no one else is while she’s under his roof – setting people’s beds on fire, biting and stabbing visitors (like her brother), and taking out her rage on helpless wedding vows.  So, yes, I do feel kind of sorry for Mr. Rochester.  But not so sorry that I would want Jane to stay with him in this situation.

What I really want to talk about, though, is the subversive nature of so many of Jane’s revelations in this section.  She’s already declared herself to be the equal to or the superior of Miss Ingram (and, of course, when it comes to matters of intellect and ethics, she’s completely correct on that point).  In accepting Mr. Rochester’s marriage proposal, she also bluntly tells him that she’s his equal – regardless of the difference in their “stations.”  (Mrs. Fairfax brings Jane back to earth with a thud when she reminds her that “Gentlemen of his station are not accustomed to marry their governesses.”)  It is Jane’s ambiguous class (educated, daughter of a clergyman, well-read and well-spoken, but still a governess and an economic dependent) that allows her to make these observations of the relative stature of classes, but it’s easy to see how this could have gone over like a lead balloon to certain elements of nineteenth-century British society.

Then, there’s Jane’s attitude toward God and religion, which is equally subversive.  For example, she refuses to disobey “God’s law” and become, in effect, Mr. Rochester’s mistress.  But she doesn’t come to this decision because she has any fear of society’s judgment, nor does she accept “God’s law” as infallible just because it is “God’s law.”  Rather, she observes the law because it is what her own self-respect requires of her – not out of any deference to the society that laid down the law.  And her position on houses of worship is no better: during her flight from Thornfield, Jane stops to ponder how much more spiritual she feels when surrounded by nature than in a traditional church setting (and, again, please pardon the quote, but it’s so good I have to show you):

We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us; and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude.

I can’t imagine that view was all too popular with the clergy back in 1847 either.

When I’ve read this book in the past, it’s always been for the romance.  Mr. Rochester’s smoldering gaze, his declarations of love for Jane (on this reading, I’m thinking that although she may be infatuated and he may be attracted to and entertained by her, neither of them has quite experienced real, lasting love yet), and the tragic obstacles that spring up between them – these were the things that stood out to me.  This time, it’s the subversiveness of the book: Jane’s quiet determination to act in accordance with her personal ethics, her refusal to enter into a relationship that compromises her self-respect, her disdain for her “social betters” if she they are not her intellectual or ethical equals.  I just keep coming across passage after passage like this, and remarking to myself, “No wonder this book upset so many people!”  I’ve always loved Jane for her spunk and determination, but it’s only on this re-read that I’m really reading slowly enough to ponder the social obstacles she faced or the potential costs to her in adhering to her personal ethics.  Her individualism and courage are what’s speaking to me this time, and I’m loving the book even more for it.

Are you reading along with Septemb-Eyre?  What did you think of this section?