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Summary:

The novel opens with an anonymous narrator telling us all about her godmother, Mrs. Bretton, and how she used to stay with her a couple of times a year. Our narrator is essentially the only child in a household of adults. That is, until the autumn day when a strange, small girl named Polly arrives at Mrs. Bretton’s, and our narrator is forced to share not only her godmother’s home but also her bedroom with this tiny, doll-like creature. Polly’s father was a friend of the late Dr. Bretton’s, who, after the death of his “careless” and “giddy” wife, was advised to travel in order to overcome the shock.

Polly arrives (quite comically) wrapped in a shawl carried by her nurse, “...she appeared exceedingly tiny, but was a neat, completely-fashioned little figure, light, slight, and straight. Seated on my godmother’s ample lap, she looked a mere doll; her neck, delicate as wax, her head of silky curls…”

Our narrator and Polly are not fast friends. We finally learn in Chapter Two that our narrator is Lucy Snowe. Lucy finds Polly’s presence a nuisance, declaring, “whenever opening a room door I found [Polly] seated in a corner alone...” Polly’s first few days at the Brettons are spent moping around the house, wishing she were back home with her father.

Polly is sulking by the window one afternoon, watching the people pass by in the street, when she spots a familiar face in the crowd, her father. Mr. Home does a lot of too-ing and fro-ing. He has come to stay for a few days before heading off to the continent. Lucy watches (she’s always watching) their emotional reunion and seems uncomfortable and judgmental of their affection for one another.

But Mr. Home is not the only new arrival at the Brettons’. Mrs. Bretton’s son, Graham, has also arrived. He’s 16 and home from school. He’s charming and playful, especially with Polly. She tries to resist his charms because she’s too homesick, but she soon realizes she enjoys Graham’s attention.

Mr. Home stays with the Brettons for two nights before leaving for his travels. No sooner does the door close behind him than Polly bursts into tears, while Lucy watches and remains unmoved. “During an ensuing space of some minutes, I perceived she endured agony...” Lucy watches with her usual emotional distance, but she occasionally allows her emotions to show. When they are alone in their bedroom, and Polly is so distraught she cannot sleep, Lucy drops her emotional aloofness and comforts the young girl. She’s cool but not unfeeling.

With her father gone, Polly soon finds comfort in doting on Graham as a replacement for her much-loved father.

“The league of acquaintanceship thus struck up was not hastily dissolved; on the contrary, it appeared that time and circumstances served rather to cement than loosen it. Ill-assimilated as the two were in age, sex, pursuits, &c., they somehow found a great deal to say to each other.”

“...now that her father was taken from her she nestlred to Graham, and seemd to feel by his feelings: to existin his existence.”

Polly needs to live for another (especially men), something Lucy is determined not to do.

Two months pass, and Polly and Graham grow closer despite the difference in their ages. But their friendship will end abruptly when Mr. Home writes to inform Mrs. Bretton that, now that he’s settled with his kinfolk abroad, he wants Polly to join him.

Lucy seems quite pleased to break this news to the strange, tiny creature who’s been sharing her room. In a “trenchant manner,” Polly agrees that she would like to join her father, but she can’t break the news to Graham. It’s too emotionally difficult, and she asks Lucy to break the news to Grahamb. He is disappointed to hear of Polly’s imminent departure, but not as upset as Polly. She lies at his feet like a loyal dog, but Graham seems barely to notice her. Lucy does her best to soothe the young Polly as she mourns the loss of Graham and tries to process the fact that he only “loves” her as a “favorite child.” Meanwhile, Lucy worries about how Polly will cope once she’s out in the real world.

“How will she get through this world, or battle with this life? How will she bear the shocks and repulses, the humiliations and desolations, which books, and my own reason, tell me are prepared for all flesh?”

Young Polly isn’t as prepared for the harsh realities of life in the real world as Lucy believes herself to be. If you’re always dependent on others, how will you survive when you have no one but yourself to rely on?

Lucy leaves the Brettons shortly after Polly heads off to the Continent. In six months, Lucy will have to face her own “battle with this life” as her world is turned upside down, leaving her orphaned and without a friend to lean on. She must survive on her wits alone. As Lucy says, “...to myself alone could I look...”

She finds work as a companion to a rich, rheumatic woman of fortune named Miss Marchmont. She grows close to her employer as they spend more and more time together. “Two hot close rooms thus...” Miss Marchmont shares her tragic history and how she lost her true love and fiancé, Frank. She even decides to leave Lucy some money in her will, but she dies before she can make the necessary changes.

“My little morsel of human affection, which I prized as if it were a solid pearl, must melt in my fingers and slip thence like a dissolving hailstone. My small adopted duty must be snatched from my easily contented conscience. I had wanted to compromise with Fate: to escape occasional great agonies by submitting to a whole life of privation and small pains. Fate would not so be pacified; nor would Providence sanction this shrinking sloth and cowardly indolence.”

Lucy is once again adrift without friends, family, or a source of income. In a moment of spontaneity, Lucy decides to “leave this wilderness” and head to London. At first, she is overcome with the rush of travel and being somewhere new. But reality sets in, and she starts to worry about how she will survive.

“All at once my position rose on me like a ghost. Anomalous, desolate, almost blank of hope it stood. What was I doing here alone in great London? What should I do on the morrow? What prospects had I in life? What friends had I on earth? Whence did I come? Whither should I go? What should I do?”

Despite her fears for her future, Lucy finds joy in London. Here, she is free to wonder and enjoy the “ecstasy of freedom,” something she’s never felt before.

Lucy takes another leap of faith and books herself a berth on The Vivid bound for Port Boue-Marine on the continent. On the ship, she makes the acquaintance of a young lady, Ginevre Fanshawe, who is bound for Madame Beck’s girls’ school in Villette (Brussels), the capital of Labassecur (Belgium). Ginevre is seventeen and terribly shallow. She’s shocked that Lucy is traveling to Boue-Marine in order to find a way to “earn a living” (how disgusting!).

Lucy arrives in Boue-Marine with nowhere to go and no way to communicate, as she doesn’t speak French. She finds a respectful inn for the night, but when morning comes, she must find a way to survive in this new country before her meager savings run out. Lucy soon remembers the name of the school Ginevra was heading to and decides to go to Villette to try to find employment there.

When Lucy arrives in the capital, she cannot find her trunk and cannot understand what the coachman is telling her. She overhears a man speaking English and asks him to help her find out what happened to her belongings. He comes to her aid, and they plan to have her belongings sent to her as they were left behind. This helpful Englishman directs Lucy to an inn before they part ways (don’t worry, we will see him again soon).

Lucy attempts to find the inn but gets lost. Fate is on her side, and she ends up at Madame Beck’s Girl School. She seizes the opportunity and requests a meeting with the proprietress, Madame Beck. She is a formidable woman who enters the room silently. Lucy asks whether there is any work for her at the school. Madame Beck interrogates Lucy before calling in one of the teachers, M. Paul, to examine her character using his knowledge of physiognomy. He assesses her and, after some hesitation, gives his approval.

“Engage her. If good predominates in that nature, the action will bring its own reward; if evil—eh bien! ma cousine, ce sera toujours une bonne œuvre.”

Lucy is relieved.

And so begins Lucy’s adventures at Madame Beck’s. At first, she works as a sort of nanny to Madame Beck’s children and also assists Madame Beck, almost like a lady’s maid. But Lucy is soon thrown into teaching English to a class of sixty young women. She has been practicing her French and steeling herself to face a class full of girls who might eat her alive. But she manages these girls with ease and quickly shows them that she’s not to be messed with. Lucy refuses to be intimidated, and Madame Beck promotes her to a full-time English teacher.

Lucy describes Madame Beck as one who glides ghostlike through the school and uses her army of “spies” to keep tabs on everything happening under her roof. She’s not above snooping through people’s drawers if she has to. But Lucy is also watching and observing everything happening at the school. There is quite a lot to observe. She follows Ginevra's romantic exploits (and is disappointed in her behavior). She observes some strange occurrences in the garden, including clandestine messages between lovers. There is much drama bubbling under the surface at Madame Beck’s. And I haven’t even mentioned the ghost nun that haunts the school! She’ll be more important later in the story.

When one of Madame Beck’s children falls ill, the new doctor in town answers the call. The new doctor is a young, attractive Englishman, the very same man who helped Lucy when she first arrived in Villette. The new doctor makes such a good impression on Madame Beck that she makes him the family’s regular physician. This may be more due to Dr. John’s good looks than to his skill as a medical man. He seems to have caught the eye of the widowed Madame Beck. But she’s not the only one interested in the doctor. It seems he’s smitten with young Ginevra, but she’s more interested in stringing him along. Lucy strongly disapproves of Ginevra’s behavior.

Soon, summer arrives in Villette, and the term is nearing its end. The school is preparing not only for exams but also for the Fête de Madame. The halls are filled with merriment and joy as the students prepare for all the festivities, including not just a ball but also a play organized by M. Paul. On the day of the fete, M. Paul needs a last-minute actor and convinces Lucy to take the part. He locks her in the attic so she can learn her lines. She’s there for hours before he releases her to join the other players. Lucy is playing a male role but refuses to wear pants. Instead, she dresses as she likes and takes the stage, where she lets go of her usual emotional restraint and gives herself over to the role.

At the ball later that evening, Lucy watches Ginevra with Dr. John and is disappointed by how she treats him. Ginevra is shamelessly stringing along two men. The reliable and kind Dr. John and the more enticing Colonel de Hemal, “a gentleman of excellent connections, perfect manners, sweet appearance, with a pale interesting face and hair and eyes like an Italian.” Lucy ends up spending most of the night talking to Dr. John while he watches Ginevra flirt and dance.

Soon, the end of term arrives, and the girls head home. Madame Beck and the professors leave for vacation. Having nowhere else to go, Lucy remains at the school with one servant, “and a poor deformed and imbecile pupil.” But before love even arrives, they leave Madame Beck’s, and Lucy is alone for the first time in months.

Her mind is troubled; she isn’t sleeping well, and she’s growing quite ill, taking to her bed. But one night, overcome with the need to confess, she dresses and goes to the local Catholic church to speak with the priest. The priest is surprised that a Protestant would seek him out for confession, but he doesn’t turn her away. He asks for time to think over what she’s told him and tells her to return to the church the next day.

“We all think ourselves strong in some points; we all know ourselves weak in many; the probabilities are that had I visited [the catholic church], at the hour and day appointed, I might just now, instead of writing this heretic narrative, be counting my beads in the cell of a certain Carmelite convent on the Boulevard of Crécy, in Villette. There was something of Fénélon about that benign old priest; and whatever most of his brethren may be, and whatever I may think of his Church and creed (and I like neither), of himself I must ever retain a grateful recollection. He was kind when I needed kindness; he did me good. May Heaven bless him!”

Despite the priest’s kindness, Lucy has no intention of turning “back to the true church.” As she makes her way back to Madame Becks, her fever returns, and she collapses in the street.

Here is where we leave Lucy Snowe, for now.

Discussion:

Lucy as Outsider:

One of Madame Beck’s defining traits is her tendency toward “espionage.” She has keys to every room and moves silently through the school, watching and even snooping through people’s belongings. But she’s not the only observer in the novel. Lucy also prefers to hang back and watch the people around her. So much so that we don’t even learn she’s our narrator and protagonist until Chapter Two!

Lucy doesn’t seem to fit in. “Lucy is everywhere, not at home” (O’Dea, 1988). She might be Mrs. Bretton’s goddaughter, but she’s not a true member of the family. She finds some comfort in being a companion to Miss Marchmont, but this is, unfortunately, short-lived, and Lucy ends up trying to find where in the world she belongs and how to support herself. Gilbert and Guber (1979) describe her as having to “seek her identity on foreign soil because she is metaphorically a foreigner even in England. Homeless, she is a woman without a country or a community…” She’s a woman without friends or family, a stranger in a strange land, trying to survive on her own. Observation becomes a survival tool.

Lucy seems particularly interested in the romantic goings-on around her. From Polly’s obvious crush on the much older Graham Bretton to Ginevra’s love triangle, Lucy is captivated by relationships. She seems annoyed by Polly’s childish crush and disdainful of Ginevra’s treatment of Dr. John. “Lucy scorns flirtation dissociated from true love, from spiritually oriented relationships between persons” (Blackall, 1976). She is reserved and seemingly without desire. One of the few times she lets go of her controlled persona is when she is on stage. “In the play, Lucy can do what she cannot easily bring herself to do in real life, become an active agent in seeking what she desires” (Blackall, 1976). 

To cope with life’s uncertainties, Lucy has developed a very controlled, taciturn demeanor. All the while, she watches and judges those around her as she sees fit. For the most part, this aspect of her character is known only to the reader. She even tells us as much:

“I had feelings: passive as I lived, little as I spoke, cold as I looked, when I thought of past days, I could feel. About the present, it was better to be stoical; about the future—such a future as mine—to be dead. And in catalepsy and a dead trance, I studiously held the quick of my nature…”

She uses her "frigid” demeanor as a protective shield. We see one side of Lucy Snowe, while the other characters only see her carefully curated self. I wonder whether this is what M. Paul was picking up on when he analyzed her through physiognomy. When Madame Beck asks him whether Lucy is “bad or good,” he replies, “of each kind without a doubt.” He seems to be the first to notice this duality in her character.

Lucy vs. Jane:

Comparing Jane Eyre and Lucy Snowe is unavoidable. There will be many opportunities to compare them throughout our reading of Villette, but I’d like to take a look at how they compare now, and then maybe we can circle back to this at the end.

When we first meet Jane Eyre, she’s a young orphan in an abusive and neglectful household, but her personality and sense of self are already formed. The ten-year-old Jane we meet at Gateshead is the same confident and determined woman who refuses St. John Rivers and walks into Ferndale to claim her love, Mr. Rochester. She has an innate sense of right and wrong. She’s determined not to suffer injustice, and she will make her way in the world on her terms, guided by her own moral compass.

While Jane’s character is largely fully formed at the start of the novel, Lucy is still finding herself. When we meet her, she’s on the sidelines, watching other lives and emotional connections instead of being an active participant in the world around her. She hides her true feelings about losing her parents, but it’s obvious that this loss has had a great effect on her life, both financially and emotionally. We have little sense of who the true Lucy is, and it will take time for that self to be revealed.

Lucy is more judgmental and detached than Jane. She makes friends and forms strong bonds with many people throughout the novel. For much of Villette, Lucy is removed from others. Is she afraid to make emotional connections? Does her emotional distance stem from the loss of her parents? Is she trying to avoid further heartbreak? Or is Lucy simply someone who hasn’t discovered who she really is because her focus is on simply surviving as a single woman on her own?

Gilbert and Gubar describe Lucy as “silent, invisible, at best an inoffensive shadow,” unlike the more bold and outspoken (at times) Jane. But there are some key similarities between Jane and Lucy. Gilbert and Gubar (1979) also stress that Lucy’s “repression is a response to a society cruelly indifferent to women.” Both Jane and Lucy are left with no patrimony and must find a way to survive. They both represent the women who struggled to find an independent identity and to break free of the traditional roles and expectations imposed on young Victorian women (Gilbert and Gubar, 1979).

Perhaps the most important difference between Jane and Lucy is that we trust Jane to give a truthful account of her life. I can’t see the same of Lucy. “In Lucy Snowe, Brontë has designed a voice that challenges the very essence of the reader/narrator relationship.” (O’Dea, 1988). Is she an unreliable narrator? Why might Brontë want her to keep the reader, as O’Dea (1988) says, “on edge”?

Stormy weather, just can’t get my poor self together:

While Villette may feel more like a Victorian Realist novel than the Gothic Jane Eyre, it still contains a few of these elements. You may have noticed references to stormy or inclement weather throughout Volume One. From the stormy seas that make Lucy an orphan to the storm that precedes Polly’s arrival at the Brettons, violent weather is a harbinger of crucial, life-changing moments for Lucy.

But it’s not just stormy weather. Lucy also suffers from internal “storms,” such as when she’s left alone at Madame Beck’s, where she slips into a depression and grows ill and feverish. The reality of how alone in the world she is torments her. By the end of Volume One, she’s delirious, wandering the wind-blown streets of Brussels, before she collapses. Try as she might to repress her emotions, they will find a way to bubble to the surface.

Storms will play a major role in the novel’s final scenes, so keep note of the storm moments, both external and internal, as you read.

Biographical Note:

In 1841, Anne is miserable as a governess, and Charlotte is determined to find a way for the sisters to earn money without being governesses forever. That summer, Charlotte hatches a plan, and the sisters will open their own school. She even convinces her Aunt Branwell to provide the capital needed to start the school. Charlotte throws herself into planning and, with the help of her old friend Miss Wooler, finds a school (Dewsbury Moor) she could take over. Taking over an already established school with a good reputation in the area would help jump-start this endeavor. However, Charlotte’s enthusiasm for this scheme soon wanes.

While Charlotte was working on the school idea, the Taylors, friends of the Brontës, were planning a trip to Belgium. Charlotte, who always had “a taste for the exotic,” decided to change tack (Barker 1994). Charlotte seemed in the mood for an adventure, so she put these plans on hold. The new plan was for her and Emily to travel to Brussels to attend school and study French and German, something that would set their school apart from others in the region. She wrote in a letter to her Aunt: “They say schools in England are so numerous, competition so great, that without some such step towards attaining superiority we shall probably have a very hard struggle and may fail in the end” (Barker, 1994). Plans changed, and the search for a good, affordable school began.

In February 1842, Charlotte, Emily, Patrick, and the Taylors all traveled to London to take the packet to Belgium. Poor Lucy Snowe was forced to make this journey alone, while Charlotte and Emily were surrounded by friends and family. Their father even made a book of handy French phrases to help them when they arrived (Barker, 1994). However, like Lucy, Charlotte was thrilled to be in London and wanted to take in as much of the city as she could before heading off to the continent.

Once they arrived in Belgium, the whole party boarded a stagecoach that would take them on the long journey to their final destination: The Pensionnat Heger in the heart of Brussels. Meanwhile, the Taylors and their cousins, the Dixons, headed off to their nearby residences.

The Pensionnat Heger was a boarding school run by Constantin Heger and his wife, Claire. The school was expensive, but Charlotte worked out a deal with Madame Heger before their arrival so the girls could “benefit from a continental education at a reasonable cost.” The girls were both students and teachers, with Charlotte teaching English and Emily teaching music in return for board and lodging.

I just want to note that Charlotte sold this scheme to Emily as a six-month trip, but she actually planned for them to be away for a whole year. “One can only wonder what Emily’s response was to this idea. For someone who had not survived more than six months away from home without becoming physically ill, the prospect of a year among strangers in a foreign land must have been truly intimidating” (Barker, 1994). Emily suffered from extreme homesickness whenever she had to be away from Haworth for “too long”, so it will come as no surprise that Charlotte found this trip more beneficial than Emily. True to character, Emily was rather miserable at Pensionnat Heger and returned after one year. Charlotte, meanwhile, stayed on for longer.

Sadly, the Brontë Sisters School never came to be. Women’s education at this time often focused on accomplishments such as proficiency in foreign languages, sewing, drawing, and piano playing, in addition to the basics (reading, writing, and arithmetic). The object of female education was to mold young ladies into “good spouses” rather than to fill their heads with silly things like science or the classics! (more on women’s education in Victorian England here) Given the liberal and varied education the Brontë sisters received from their father after the disaster that was the Clergy’s Daughter’s School, I’m keen to know what curriculum Charlotte, Emily, and Anne might have crafted for their students. Would they have stuck to traditional teaching plans, or would they have created a truly revolutionary school for young women? Unfortunately, we will never know, but it is fun to speculate.

We will talk more about The Pensionnat and Heger’s when we discuss volume two. Things are going to get kind of juicy!

Wrapping up:

In my introduction post, I mentioned that a podcaster described Villette as “watching a woman descend into madness.” I wasn’t sure I agreed with that take, but on rereading, I’m starting to see how deeply psychological Villette is. I’m still not sure whether this will become a favorite Brontë novel, but as I said at the start, it’s growing on me.

I continue to wonder why this has never been adapted for film, but I found this audio play of Villette, which looks really interesting:

Now that we’re done with the house renovations, I can focus on catching up on my reading and drafting these discussion posts! Thank you for sticking with me while everything was in disarray here. I appreciate you all!

As always, thank you for reading and supporting my little Substack.

Happy Reading!

Sources:

1. Barker, J. (1994). The Brontës. St. Martin’s Press.

2. Blackall, Jean Frantz. “Point of View in ‘Villette.’” The Journal of Narrative Technique 6, no. 1 (1976): 14–28. http://www.jstor.org/stable/30225572.

3. Brontë, C. (2003). Villette. Dover Publications. (Dover Thrift Editions).

4. Gilbert, S. M., & Gubar, S. (1979). The madwoman in the attic: The woman writer and the nineteenth-century literary imagination. Yale University Press.

5. Jagannathan, M. (2022). Aesthetics of Wounding: Strategies of Self Repression in Charlotte Brontë’s Villette. Journal of Narrative Theory, 52(2), 213–239. https://www.jstor.org/stable/27392069

6. O’Dea, G. S. (1988). Narrator and Reader in Charlotte Brontë’s Villette. South Atlantic Review, 53(1), 41–57. https://doi.org/10.2307/3200400
   

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Summary:

Jane has been traveling for two days, with no real idea of where to go and no friends to turn to. “I have no relative but the universal mother, nature: I will seek her breast and ask for repose.” To make matters worse, Jane has forgotten her parcel of belongings on the coach and is without money. She has only the remnants of a roll to eat. She’s alone, hungry, without shelter, and she still yearns for Mr. Rochester.1

“I was brought face to face with Necessity. I stood in the position of one without a resource, without a friend, without a coin. I must do something. What? I must apply somewhere. Where?”

Jane tries to find help, but no one will assist her. Everyone appears suspicious of the young, friendless woman. When she attempts to trade her handkerchief for some food, the shopkeeper refuses because she can’t be sure it's not stolen.

“...an ordinary beggar is frequently an object of suspicion; a well-dressed beggar inevitably so. To be sure, what I begged was employment; but whose business was it to provide me with employment? Not, certainly, that of persons who saw me then for the first time, and who knew nothing about my character. And as to the woman who would not take my handkerchief in exchange for her bread, why, she was right, if the offer appeared to her sinister or the exchange unprofitable.”

Finding no help in town, Jane returns to the moors. She’d rather die in nature than end up in a “workhouse coffin.” As she walks out of town, she comes up on a house. Jane peers into the window and watches two young women practice German. Jane knocks on the door and asks the servant if she can see the mistress of the house, but the servant is reluctant to do this. As Jane is pleading with her, a young man comes up behind her and brings her into the house. This man, St. John Rivers, and his two sisters, Diana and Mary, quickly begin tending to Jane. By now, Jane is weak, hungry, and on the verge of collapse. The siblings feed her and care for her. When asked who she is and where she came from, Jane gives a false name, Jane Elliott, for fear of being discovered by Rochester.

The Rivers family ends up taking Jane in. They have recently lost their father, and the sixers are due to leave for governess positions because they will have no other way to support themselves once St. John leaves to become a missionary in India. Before St. John can leave, he must wrap up his father’s estate. As Jane recovers and the four of them get to know each other, the siblings decide to have Jane stay with them until they must part ways.

“The more I knew of the inmates of Moor House, the better I liked them.” Jane grows especially close to St. John’s sisters. They all enjoy reading, and Jane even starts learning German with them. This close bond with the sisters does not include the brother at first. St. Jone was often away from home, but she found he had a “a reserved, an abstracted and…brooding nature.” He’s zealous about ministry but seems to lack any other passions. He’s not interested in nature and can be very guarded in his feelings.

“I was sure St. John Rivers—pure-lived, conscientious, zealous as he was—had not yet found that peace of God which passeth all understanding: he had no more found it, I thought, than had I with my concealed and racking regrets for my broken idol and lost elysium—regrets to which I have latterly avoided referring, but which possessed me and tyrannised over me ruthlessly.”

He’s a good man, but he lacks passion (he’s very different from Mr. Rochester). In fact, he’s so devoid of romantic feelings (or is determined to avoid such feelings) that he refuses to allow himself to fall for the beautiful and wealthy Rosamund Oliver. Everyone can see how smitten she is with him. And her father even approves of the match despite their differences in circumstances. Yet, St. John insists there is nothing between them.

As the day for Jane’s sister to leave Moor House nears, Jane asks St. John to help her find something she can do. She needs a job and a way to support herself. St. John offers her the position of schoolmistress at the village charity school. She would have her own classroom and quarters. She happily accepts.

“In truth it was humble—but then it was sheltered, and I wanted a safe asylum: it was plodding—but then, compared with that of a governess in a rich house, it was independent; and the fear of servitude with strangers entered my soul like iron: it was not ignoble—not unworthy—not mentally degrading, I made my decision.”

Before the sisters leave Moor House, they learn their uncle has died (this becomes important later).

Jane starts her new life as a teacher. At first, she’s dismayed by her students’ ignorance and poverty. But she comes to enjoy her role and the independence it affords her.

“My cottage is clean and weather-proof; my furniture sufficient and commodious. All I see has made me thankful, not despondent. I am not absolutely such a fool and sensualist as to regret the absence of a carpet, a sofa, and silver plate; besides, five weeks ago I had nothing—I was an outcast, a beggar, a vagrant; now I have acquaintance, a home, a business. I wonder at the goodness of God; the generosity of my friends; the bounty of my lot. I do not repine.”

One evening, St. John visits her while she’s working on a portrait of Rosamund. Jane tries to get St. John to admit that he loves Rosamund and should marry her, but he is insistent that she could never be a good wife for him. He lacks passion but remains committed to his plan to become a missionary. Rosamund would make a terrible missionary’s wife. While inspecting the portrait, he notices something written on the back—Jane’s real name.

St. John returns to Jane’s cottage the next day and reveals that the uncle who passed away is her Uncle John Eyre. Jane and the Rivers are cousins. Through the lawyer, Mr. Briggs, who manages John Eyre’s estate, St. John learns the full history of Jane and how she ended up at Moor House. Mr. Briggs has been searching for Jane for weeks because her uncle left her his fortune of ￡20,000. “Here was a new card turned up! It is a fine thing, Reader, to be lifted in a moment from indigence to wealth.”

Jane is overjoyed not by the money but at discovering she has a family — a family she cares for and who care for her. Jane asks St. John to call his sister’s home. Jane wants to share her inheritance with her new cousins. Jane’s generosity allows the sisters to return home without relying on work to survive.

“It seemed I had found a brother: one I could be proud of,—one I could love; and two sisters, whose qualities were such, that, when I knew them but as mere strangers, they had inspired me with genuine affection and admiration. The two girls, on whom, kneeling down on the wet ground, and looking through the low, latticed window of Moor House kitchen, I had gazed with so bitter a mixture of interest and despair, were my near kinswomen; and the young and stately gentleman who had found me almost dying at his threshold was my blood relation. Glorious discovery to a lonely wretch! This was wealth indeed!—wealth to the heart!”

Time passes, and Jane adjusts to her new life with her family. She closes the school and spends her time with Diana and Mary. She’s content in this new life until St. John stirs things up. He finds her practicing German and insists she stop and learn Hindustani instead—the language he’s been studying in preparation for his journey to India. We soon understand why he pushes for this change–he wants Jane to join him in India as his wife. He pleads with her in a very romantic manner, “...you are formed for labor, not for love. A Missionary’s wife you must-shall be.” Jane has no desire to be his wife. Why would she want a loveless marriage? But St. John is persistent. So much so that he doesn’t even notice when Jane says, “If I were to marry you, you would kill me. You are killing me now.” Jane would be happy to join him as his sister, but not as his wife, but he considers this a sinful idea.

St. John keeps pushing his proposal on Jane, and she keeps refusing. As his departure approaches, however, Jane’s resolve begins to weaken. Just as she starts to soften her stance on marrying S.. John, she hears Mr. Rochester calling out to her. Jane then flees Moor House to join Mr. Rochester.

“I broke from St. John, who had followed, and would have detained me. It was my time to assume ascendency”

Jane returns to Thronfield Hall only to find it burned down and its ruins abandoned. She goes back to town to ask what happened to Thornfield. She fears Rochester is dead and is eager to learn what transpired. The innkeepers tell her about the night Bertha broke free and set fire to the hall. Mr. Rochester chased her to the roof and tried to save her from the flames. Before he could grab her, she let out a scream and threw herself from the roof.

She’s relieved to find Mr. Rochester survived the fire. He’s blind and disfigured, but he’s alive! He’s living at his small residence, Ferndean. Jane wastes no time and leaves to find him. She finds him broken and a shadow of his former self. But he recognizes her voice and her little fingers. He still loves Jane as much as ever, but feels she could never love him as he is now. Jane insists on staying with him–she doesn’t care about his injuries; she just wants to be with him as a wife or nurse, however she can be near him.

“You are no ruin, sir—no lightning-struck tree: you are green and vigorous. Plants will grow about your roots, whether you ask them or not, because they take delight in your bountiful shadow; and as they grow they will lean towards you, and wind round you, because your strength offers them so safe a prop.”

And dear Reader, she marries him!

Discussion:

St. John: Passionless, Pushy, and Pious:

St. John River serves as an interesting foil to Rochester. He’s young, handsome, and most importantly, not married. He is kind to his sisters and to Jane when she appears at his door seeking help. However, he is also a man blinded by his own ambition. Missionary work is his calling, and he plans to dedicate the rest of his life to this work, showing little regard for those he may neglect or hurt at home. Every missionary needs a good wife to help spread the word of God, and St. John is convinced Jane is the perfect woman for this role.2

“But as his wife—at his side always, and always restrained, and always checked—forced to keep the fire of my nature continually low, to compel it to burn inwardly and never utter a cry, though the imprisoned flame consumed vital after vital—this would be unendurable.”

But Jane understands the dangers of a loveless marriage. She could no more be Rochester’s mistress than she could be St. John’s wife. Unfortunately, St. John won’t accept her refusal to marry him. He is convinced that Jane is meant to be his wife to help him with his mission to serve God, and so he continues to push for her to accept him. He turns to religious manipulation to try to persuade Jane. He tells her, “...it is not me you deny, but God,” and he says that refusing him will essentially damn her in the eyes of God.

“Refuse to be my wife, and you limit yourself for ever to a track of selfish ease and barren obscurity. Tremble lest in that case you should be numbered with those who have denied the faith, and are worse than infidels!”

But Jane stands firm for as long as she can. She hears Rochester’s cries just in time.

Vejvoda (2003) argues that St. John doesn’t just want Jane to help him with his mission work. He also wants to save her from her sinful past with Rochester. However, the more she fights against St. John, the stronger Jane’s love for Rochester becomes (Vejvoda 2003). So when Jane pleads with God to send her a sign to know if she should give in to St. John, she hears Rochester calling out to her. Jane discerns “God’s will though seemingly direct contact with the supernatural. (Griesinger 2008). God hears her prayers, and Jane doesn’t hesitate to return to the man she loves.

I was very irritated by St. John and how pushy he was with Jane. First, he comes to her aid and brings her into the family. Then they discover they are all actually related, and Jane shares her inheritance with St. John and his sisters. For Jane, St. John is a brother, not a potential suitor. It seems like he saved Jane, and now he feels she owes him. She should be grateful and agree to marry him. I particularly disliked his use of religion to try to trap Jane into a loveless marriage that would doom them both. I was reminded of Mr. Collins at first, but when St. John persists, he makes Mr. Collins look reasonable.

How did you feel about St. John’s proposal? Do you think he should have had the last word in the novel?

Feminine Faith: Christianity, Nature, and The Supernatural:

In the Victorian Era, men ruled in the home and in the church, but Jane seems to reject this patriarchal religious system in favor of her own understanding of God and Christian doctrine.

“In resisting Rochester and, especially, the pious clergyman St. John, Jane confronts a cherished Evangelical model of female piety…that often represented women as incapable of discerning God’s will for themselves.“ (Lamonca 2002). Jane does not accept subjugation in marriage or in her faith. She’s not interested in becoming someone’s slave simply because a man in a pulpit says it’s God’s will. Jane develops her own understanding of Christianity. She finds God not in fire-and-brimstone preaching or Calvinist doctrine. Instead, her faith (and moral compass) is shaped by her reverence for nature, the women in her life, and her personal connection to God.

Charlotte received some criticism for the “anti-Christian” messaging in the novel; however, she isn’t trying to undermine Christianity. Instead, she’s presenting an example of what feminine faith might look like. Lamonca (2002) states, “Unlike the men who attempt to impose their wills upon Jane, women in the novel communicate their theological convictions by example rather than exhortation, thus imposing a feminine silence in contrast to male garrulousness about the Word.” Jane’s faith is intricately intertwined with nature and with the belief that God can be found in everything. Jane accepts elements of Evangelical doctrine and rejects others (Lamonca 2002) as they fit her religious convictions. Jane’s God is gentle and loving, whereas for St. John or Brocklehurst, God is an unapproachable lawmaker (Lamonca, 2002). Jane doesn’t abandon faith; she revises the masculine discourse to suit a feminine mind.

Charlotte, a devout Anglican, was concerned with the role of women in society and their right to define their own identities, including their personal relationships with God (Franklin 1995). “One of the central tenets of Protestant Christianity is the belief that individuals have the ability to hear from God directly, interpret God’s will for themselves, act accordingly, and thus be responsible for their own salvation…gifted and creative Victorian women like Brontë face the additional challenge of staying true to their beliefs in a patriarchal society and a patriarchal church.” (Griesinger 2008). Through Jane, Charlotte creates a version of Christianity that includes the gentler aspects of faith, including hints of the supernatural.

How did you feel about the religious aspects of the novel? Is Charlotte criticizing the church or offering another perspective on faith?

Poverty and The Workhouse:

I have to take a moment to talk about Jane’s experience of poverty after she flees Thornfield Hall. Jane might have had a simple life up until this point, but her basic needs were always met. She had shelter, food, and clothes on her back. It wasn’t a glamorous life, but for all intents and purposes, it was a safe one. She went from school to teaching to being a governess with ease. It isn’t until she flees the safety of Thornfield and loses her few belongings that she experiences true poverty.

In Victorian England, there were few services and support systems for the poor. There might have been some charitable efforts organized by private guilds and societies, but the most common option for those who had fallen on hard times was the workhouse. However, this wasn’t a gentle or cheerful place; it was somewhere people feared. The workhouse was originally designed to combat poverty, but it quickly turned into a “prison system detaining the most vulnerable in society” (Brain 2019). There were no places of rehabilitation; instead, the inmates spent their days doing often pointless, menial labor in exchange for a meal and a place to sleep. The conditions were often appalling, and mortality rates were high. It’s no wonder Jane fears she’ll end up in a “workhouse coffin.”

But the workhouse didn’t let everyone in. This was only available to the “deserving poor.” What kind of Christian charity divides people into deserving and undeserving? The poor are effectively no better than criminals. We see this when Jane is starving and penniless and cannot find anyone who will give even a scrap of bread. “If you are a Christian, you ought not to consider poverty a crime.” But this is exactly how the poor were treated and, frankly, still are in many places today. For many, poverty is seen as a moral failing, even though it’s often due to circumstances beyond their control. And we still debate today who deserves access to welfare services and who doesn’t.

If you want to learn more about Workhouses, Absolute History has a wonderful documentary you can watch on YouTube.

There is so much more we could discuss and analyze about Jane Eyre. Is there something I haven’t touched on that stood out to you while reading? Let me know in the comments. I’m especially curious to hear your thoughts on Rochester’s redemption and Bertha’s demise.

Biographical Note:

Jane Eyre, at its core, is a love story with a body count that might rival Hamlet’s. Death permeates the novel from the very beginning. From Mr. Reed to Bertha, death drives the narrative forward. This made me think about Haworth and the unusually high mortality rate in the village during the Brontës' time there.

This small village had a higher mortality rate than any of the surrounding villages. In fact, 41% of residents died before age 6, and the average age at death was 25.8 (Temple 2021). As Reverend, Patrick Brontë was keenly aware of the number of deaths in the village, and in 1850, he hired Benjamin Hershel Babbage to investigate why the mortality rates were so high. Babbage discovered that there weren’t enough toilet facilities, and the cesspits would overflow into the streets and into the town’s water supply (Temple 2021). Even more grim, water would flow through the graveyard at the top of the hill by the parsonage and into the water supply (Temple 2021). The villagers, including the entire Brontë family, were drinking water contaminated with corpses. Add this to the cramped and overcrowded living conditions, and Howarth becomes a breeding ground for disease.

Once again, Kate from The Brontë Sisters has a wonderful video about the horrifying health crisis in Haworth.

Wrapping up:

It’s finally time to say goodbye to Jane. I hope you enjoyed reading along with me and will consider joining other books from my ‘Year with the Brontë Sisters’ project. In the second quarter, we’re reading Villette, whose heroine is quite different from the bold, sweet Jane.

If you’re not ready to leave the world of Jane Eyre just yet, I recommend watching this wonderful video from about literature and the mad woman in the attic.

As always, thank you for reading and supporting my little Substack.

Happy Reading!

Sources:

1. Brain, J. (2019, August 8). The Victorian workhouse. Historic UK. https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofBritain/Victorian-Workhouse/

2. Brontë, C. (2007). Jane Eyre (Dover Thrift Editions). Dover Publications.

3. Franklin, J. J. (1995). The Merging of Spiritualities: Jane Eyre as Missionary of Love. Nineteenth-Century Literature, 49(4), 456–482. https://doi.org/10.2307/2933729

4. Griesinger, E. (2008). Charlotte Brontë’s Religion: Faith, Feminism, and “Jane Eyre.” Christianity and Literature, 58(1), 29–59. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44313877

5. LAMONACA, M. (2002). JANE’S CROWN OF THORNS: FEMINISM AND CHRISTIANITY IN “JANE EYRE.” Studies in the Novel, 34(3), 245–263. http://www.jstor.org/stable/29533514

6. Temple, E. (2021, May 14). Apparently the Brontës all died so early because they spent their lives drinking graveyard water. Literary Hub. https://lithub.com/apparently-the-brontes-all-died-so-early-because-they-spent-their-lives-drinking-graveyard-water/

7. Vejvoda, K. (2003). Idolatry in “Jane Eyre.” Victorian Literature and Culture, 31(1), 241–261. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25058622
   

In the second quarter, we will be reading Villette, Charlotte’s final and possibly her most autobiographical novel. George Eliot called it “a still more wonderful book than Jane Eyre.” Virginia Woolf considered it Charlotte Brontë’s “finest novel.” Many seem to love Villette, yet Jane Eyre remains her best-known novel. Over the coming months, we will find out what makes Villette so remarkable. I’d be interested to know which novel ends up being your favorite of the two.

Published in 1853, Villette follows a poor young orphan named Lucy Snowe. As a young adult, Lucy must find a way to support herself. She tries her hand at being a caregiver to an elderly lady, but things don’t quite work out. Eventually, Lucy leaves the English countryside, travels to London, and boards a ship to Labassecour (Belgium). She knows very little French, but she meets a young Englishwoman who’s going to a school in Villette, and Lucy decides to follow her and try her hand at teaching English there. Lucy grows into herself, falls in love, and learns what will truly make her happy. Charlotte wraps up the novel with a slightly ambiguous ending that should spark some discourse.

I’m still camp Jane Eyre, but that might change…stay tuned!

Reading Schedule:

Once again, we will be reading at a relaxed pace over the next three months. I will post monthly updates with discussion points on the readings around the end of each month. I’ll do my best to stick to this timeline, but sometimes life really gets in the way of writing. I look forward to hearing your thoughts and takeaways as we go through the novel.

If you don’t have a copy of Villette and want to join, you can download a free e-book from Project Gutenberg. There’s also a LibriVox recording if you prefer audiobooks.

Interestingly, there are no film adaptations of Villette other than the 1970 TV miniseries, which I cannot find online. What is it about Villette that makes it hard to adapt? I’d love to hear your theories in the comments.

Bonus Read: According to David Yost, Jamaica Kincaid's Lucy shares many of the same themes, character names, and plot points with Villette. While the plot of Lucy technically reflects Kincaid’s own life, it’s hard to believe the similarities are just a coincidence (or at least that’s what Yost suggests). It would be interesting to explore how Brontë may have influenced Kincaid. 

Themes and Major Characters:

Here are some key themes to keep in mind while reading:

• Female Autonomy: Charlotte is once again exploring female independence. Like Jane, Lucy is a woman who has to rely on her own wits and skills to survive in the world. How does a young woman support herself in a world where employment options for women are extremely limited?

• The Expression of Feminine Desire: Lucy is a very buttoned-up character, but that reserve hides her true self. Over the course of the novel, Lucy learns how to express and embrace her desires.

• Balancing Romance and Independence: What does Lucy have to sacrifice in order to have love in her life? Should she sacrifice anything at all? Is there a way for Lucy to maintain her independence while being a wife?

• Religion: Oh boy, is there a lot of discussion about the merits of Protestantism versus Catholicism. Can these two religious sects coexist? Do you have to give up your faith for love? Is one superior to the other? Be prepared for a lot of religious discourse.

• The Gothic and the Supernatural: Again, Charlotte mixes some supernatural and haunting elements into her novel. In Villette, we can really see how these strange occurrences affect Lucy psychologically. I can’t remember what podcast it was, but someone said Villette reads like a woman slowly losing her mind, and I think they were onto something.

There are quite a few characters in Villette; let’s take a look at some of the principal players:

• Lucy Snowe: Lucy is our quiet, self-reliant, orphaned narrator. She can be reserved and perhaps a little too in control of her emotions. She’s intelligent and devout in her protestant beliefs. She leaves England to become a teacher at a girls’ school in Villette, a fictional town in Labassecour (Belgium). She faces many challenges while teaching, but she also falls in love. Will this romance have a happy ending?

• Mrs. Bretton: Mrs. Bretton is the mother of Dr. Bretton and godmother to Lucy Snowe. She’s a very kind woman who takes care of Lucy when her parents die. She’s the opposite of Mrs. Reed in every way.

• Dr. John Graham Bretton: Dr. Bretton grew up with Lucy and eventually became a doctor in Villette. He’s handsome, kind, and conventional in every way. Lucy and Graham haven’t seen each other since she was a child, and when they meet again in Villette, Lucy develops feelings for him. Is this simply a crush, or is it the real thing?

• Polly: We first meet Polly when she comes to stay with the Brettons and Lucy Snowe while her father is away. She’s very fond of Graham Bretton, but she’s too young for her crush to be taken seriously. Polly will grow up to be a beautiful young lady. Polly, Graham, and Lucy reconnect as young adults, and it’s clear that Polly never quite got over her crush.

• Madame Beck: Madame Beck is the owner and headmistress of the girls’ boarding school where Lucy is employed as a teacher. She’s a very controlling, nosy employer who spies on everyone and goes through their belongings. She may be an excellent headmistress, but she’s a very difficult person.

• Paul Emanuel: Professor Emanuel is autocratic, elusive, and unfriendly, but he seems to soften as the novel unfolds. Underneath his rather irascible demeanor is a very kind and generous man. He’s a devout Catholic, and he and Lucy often butt heads on ecclesiastical matters (among other things).

• Ginevra Fanshawe: Ginevra is one of Lucy’s students. She’s beautiful, shallow, and vain. She’s also a hopeless flirt. Ginevra gives off major Lydia Bennet vibes. Lucy meets her on the ship to Labassecour (Belgium). She learns that Ginevra is heading to Villette to attend school, and Lucy follows, seeking employment. They have an interesting relationship. She frustrates Lucy, but she also has a great fondness for the girl.

• Justine Marie: A deceased noviciate nun who may be haunting Lucy.

I think this covers the most important characters in the novel.

I hope this brief introduction has you ready to start Villette. I am very curious to see how I feel about the novel after a second read. I wasn’t too keen on the novel when I read it last year, but people say it’s Charlotte’s masterpiece. Perhaps it will grow on me. I very much look forward to discussing the novel with you over the coming weeks, so please share your thoughts in the comments.

As always, thank you for joining me on this literary journey.

Happy Reading!

There’s a lot to get through, so let’s jump into the summary.

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Summary:

We pick up with Jane on her journey to Thornfield Hall. This is her first major trip since leaving Gateshead, and her naivety is evident.

“It is a very strange sensation to inexperienced youth to feel itself quite alone in the world, cut adrift from every connection, uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached, and prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted. The charm of adventure sweetens that sensation, the glow of pride warms it; but then the throb of fear disturbs it; and fear with me became predominant when half-an-hour elapsed and still I was alone.”

When she arrives at the George Inn in Millcote, she finds no one waiting for her and begins to worry that she made a mistake accepting this position. Eventually, someone comes to pick her up, and she makes the long journey to Thornfield Hall. Despite arriving quite late in the evening, she is greeted by “the neatest imaginable little elderly lady, in a widow’s cap,” Mrs. Fairfax. At first, Jane thinks she is the mistress of Thornfield, but she soon learns that she is the housekeeper. The owner, Mr. Rochester, is often away from home for long periods, so it’s just the servants and the owner’s ward, Adèle, who are currently in residence.

Jane expected to be greeted with cold indifference, but instead she received a warm welcome at Thornfield. The house has a dark, abandoned feeling, but its inhabitants compensate for the lack of warmth in the furnishings. Jane is pleased with her small room, finding it a safe haven in the otherwise cheerless house.

The next morning, Jane meets her pupil, Adèle. She learns that Adèle was born on the continent and arrived at Thornfield with her French nurse after her mother died. Her mother was an opera dancer, and she trained Adèle to sing and dance to entertain her (gentleman) guests.

“I found my pupil sufficiently docile, though disinclined to apply: she had not been used to regular occupation of any kind. I felt it would be injudicious to confine her too much at first; so, when I had talked to her a great deal, and got her to learn a little, and when the morning had advanced to noon, I allowed her to return to her nurse. I then proposed to occupy myself till dinner-time in drawing some little sketches for her use.”

When Jane finishes teaching for the day, her time is mostly her own. She spends most evenings talking with Mrs. Fairfax, learning more about Thornfield and its mysterious master. The housekeeper describes him as “peculiar,” and when Jane asks her to explain what she means, she tells her: “...when he speaks to you; you cannot always be sure whether he is in jest or earnest whether he is pleased or the contrary, you don’t thoroughtly understand him...” but despite all this, Mrs. Fairfax considers him a good master. It will be a few months before Jane has the opportunity to find out if she is accurate in her account of him.

Time passes, and Jane and Adèle settle into a regular routine. When she’s not busy with her duties as a governess, Jane spends her time walking the grounds and nearby woods, drawing, and chatting with the servants. Her early months at Thornfield are quite enjoyable. The only issue she encounters is with the servant, Grace Poole. She doesn’t eat with the rest of the household, drinks on the job, is always lurking around the third floor and she can be heard laughing eerily in the evenings. Jane can’t understand why she is still employed at Thornfield.

On an afternoon in January, Adèle comes down with a cold, and lessons are canceled. With her day now free, Jane offers to take a letter to town for Mrs. Fairfax as an excuse to enjoy a pleasant walk on a winter afternoon. On her way home, as the light begins to fade, Jane stops to rest. There is an otherworldly feeling about the spot and Jane’s mind beings to wonder. She hears a horse approaching and at first, she believes the horse to be Gytrash, “a lion-like creature with long hair and a huge head,” but she shakes off this childish fancy. It is just a man on a horse, with his dog following.

When the stranger falls from his mount, Jane comes to his aid.

“He had a dark face, with stern features and a heavy brow; his eyes and gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth, but had not reached middle-age; perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt no fear of him, and but little shyness. Had he been a handsome, heroic-looking young gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus questioning him against his will, and offering my services unasked.”

The man is grumpy and cursing as she helps him up so he can remount and continue on his journey. He rides off after they exchange some words. Jane, meanwhile, reflects on the encounter and the stranger as she returns to Thornfield on foot.

“I took up my muff and walked on. The incident had occurred and was gone for me: it was an incident of no moment, no romance, no interest in a sense; yet it marked with change one single hour of a monotonous life.”

Jane is yearning for excitement, and she’s about to get some.

When Jane returns to Thornfield, she’s surprised to see the stranger’s dog in the house. It turns out that the stranger is none other than the elusive master of Thornfield, Mr. Rochester.

As Rochester recovers from his injuries, he and Jane spend more and more time together. They sit by the fire at the end of the night, having frank and honest conversations. They slowly learn more about each other, often straying from what might be considered polite topics. Jane shares about her time at Lowood School, and Rochester admires her strange and wild drawings. Jane never shies away from being truthful, even if the truth might be hurtful (like admitting that she doesn’t find Rochester attractive). Jane describes him as “very changeful and abrupt” to Mrs. Fairfax. Yet, as time passes, Jane begins to fall for her “master,” and Rochester seems to play and even flirt with her. But Jane gives as good as she gets. When their banter starts to lean into a discussion of submission, Jane tells him without hesitation:

“I don’t think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.”

Jane may be small, unassuming, and appear meek, but the wildness she possessed as a child is still there. Rochester remarks after a particularly spirited exchange, “not three in three thousand raw school governesses would have answered me as you have just done.” There’s more to Jane than meets the eye, and this intrigues Rochester.

Their conversations are often inappropriate for a master to have with his governess. He speaks negatively about his family, gets angry, curses, and most shockingly, openly discusses his affair with Adèle’s mother. Duels, affairs with opera girls, and bastard children are not typical topics that a young woman would discuss, especially with her employer. But Jane isn’t scandalized by their exchanges. In fact, she finds them liberating—”the ease of his manner freed me from painful restraint.” Rochester talks to her as if she’s a person with a brain and opinions worth listening to. It’s a novel experience for our young heroine.

A ghostly and possibly demonic presence still stalks the house. One evening, Jane is awakened by manic laughter. She follows the moans and laughter to Rochester’s door, where she finds him in bed with the linens on fire. She dowses the flames, waking him up. Rochester leaps into action, quickly putting out the flames. Only then do they realize they’re alone in his room, in the middle of the night, in just their bedclothes—scandalous! (Charlotte just cranked the romantic tension up a few notches!)

“Till morning dawned I was tossed on a buoyant but unquiet sea, where billows of trouble rolled under surges of joy. I thought sometimes I saw beyond its wild waters a shore, sweet as the hills of Beulah; and now and then a freshening gale, wakened by hope, bore my spirit triumphantly towards the bourne: but I could not reach it, even in fancy—a counteracting breeze blew off land, and continually drove me back. Sense would resist delirium: judgment would warn passion. Too feverish to rest, I rose as soon as day dawned.”

Jane has fallen hard for Mr. Rochester!

Jane blames Grace Poole for the attempt on Rochester’s life, but he brushes off her concerns at the moment. By morning, Jane expects Grace Poole to be fired, but she’s surprised to find that she’s still employed at Thornfield and is busy sewing new curtains for Rochester’s bed.

But there is one person missing after the evening’s excitement: Mr. Rochester. Mrs. Fairfax informs Jane that the master left that morning to visit friends, including the beautiful Miss Blanche Ingram. Jane misses him but also tries to convince herself that she has no business thinking of her master that way; she must “keep to [her] caste.”

Some time passes, and Rochester returns with guests, including Blanche Ingram, whom Mrs. Fairfax believes he will eventually marry. Jane tries to stay out of sight as much as possible, but Rochester wants her in the drawing room with his guests. However, he often ignores her when men join the ladies after dinner. He makes Jane watch as he flirts with Miss Ingram, acts out marriage during charades, and sings duets. But Jane still loves him despite her better judgment.

“I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.”

Jane suffers in silence until the evening when a stranger, Mr. Mason, arrives at Thornfield. Rochester is visibly shaken when his informed of Mr. Mason’s arrival. Later that evening, while the house is sleeping, cries ring out, and Rochester summons Jane to help him on the third floor. Mr. Mason is lying bleeding, and Jane must nurse him while Rochester finds the doctor. Before he leaves, he instructs Jane not to speak with Mr. Mason. When Rochester returns, he is patched up and sent away just as dawn is breaking.

With Mr. Mason’s ordeal behind them, Jane and Rochester sit in the arbor “while the sun drinks the dew.” Rochester decides this is the right moment to hint to Jane that he might marry Miss Ingram. Jane knows she will have to leave Thornfield once Mr. Rochester marries and this saddens her.

The next day, a man from Gateshead comes to see Jane to tell her that her cousin John Reed has died and that her Aunt has had a stroke. Aunt Reed doesn’t have much time left and keeps asking for Jane. After many years away, Jane agrees to visit Gateshead one final time.

Jane seeks permission to visit her aunt, and Rochester is surprised to learn that she has family since she’s always denied having any living connections. He agrees but is not pleased to be letting her go. Jane takes this opportunity to tell him that she will seek other employment since he’s going to be married and suggests that Adèle be sent away to school. Rochester asks her to allow him to find her a new position, and she agrees. They say farewell, and Jane leaves for Gateshead the next morning.

Jane finds that fortune hasn’t smiled on the Reeds. John is dead, possibly by his own hand, after living the life of a reprobate. The sisters are miserable. Georgiana is frivolous and desperate to meet and marry a rich man. And Eliza wants nothing more than for her mother to die so she can join a convent. Mrs. Reed is as nasty and spiteful as ever. It takes some time (and a lot of insults from Mrs. Reed) to reveal the secret she’s been hiding from Jane all these years—Jane has an uncle in Madeira who once wrote to ask about her and to request that she live with him. Mrs. Reed hides all this from Jane: “because I disliked you too fixedly and thoroughly ever to lend a hand in lifting [her] to prosperity.”

Instead, Mrs. Reed wrote to inform her uncle that Jane had died. Jane has every reason to despise her aunt, but she gives her absolution (as Helen Burns would have encouraged her to do). “Love me, then, or hate me, as you will…you have my full and free forgiveness: ask now for God’s, and be at peace.”

What was supposed to be a week’s absence turns out to be a month away from Thornfield. Upon her return, her emotions are conflicted. She’s happy to be back but deeply sad because she knows her time there is limited. None of this dampens her excitement to see her Master again.

“I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home—my only home.”

Swoon...

A fortnight passes, during which Rochester and Jane resume their conversations and the routine of their life together at Thornfield. It’s now midsummer, and the grounds are in full bloom. Life at Thornfield takes on a magical quality. Against this ripe and lush backdrop, Rochester decides it’s time to confess his love for Jane. He teases her before revealing that he wishes to marry her, not Miss Ingram.

“I would not—I could not—marry Miss Ingram. You—you strange, you almost unearthly thing!—I love as my own flesh. You—poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are—I entreat to accept me as a husband.”

Our lovers kiss and begin a blissful month of courtship before the big day. Jane is overjoyed but also overwhelmed by Rochester’s attempts to spoil her with finery. The house is filled with happiness, but there is one person who is very concerned about the Master marrying his governess, Mrs. Fairfax. Is there more to her worry than the difference in their again and social position?

And then, two days before the wedding, a figure sneaks into Jane’s bedroom while she’s sleeping. She wakes to find “a woman tall and large with thick and dark hair hanging long down her back.” She can’t make out the figure’s face. She feigns sleep as the woman tries on her veil, then tears it before disappearing from the room. Jane believes this to be Grace Poole; Rochester brushes off her concerns about the servant woman (again) and shifts her focus back to their upcoming nuptials. Nevertheless, he makes her agree to spend the night before their wedding in Adèle’s room just to be safe.

The big day finally arrives! Jane is excited, but there’s something in the air. Rochester has packed their luggage so they can escape Thornfield as soon as the ceremony ends. But things don’t go as planned. Before they can say “I do,” a man stops the wedding to declare that Rochester is already married. In fact, his wife is secretly locked in the attic at Thornfield.

A furious and defeated Rochester takes the small wedding party to the third floor to meet his wife, the insane and violent Bertha Mason. (Don’t worry, we’ll spend more time talking about Bertha in a minute.)

Later, Rochester tries to persuade Jane to leave with him to a continent where they can live as husband and wife. Jane longs to be with him, but she can’t accept a life built on lies. “I looked at my love: that feeling which was my master’s--which he had created; it shivered in my heart, like a suffering child in a cold cradle; sickness and anguish had seized it.” Jane turns her back on her desires and flees Thornfield with the few meager possessions she brought from Lowood School. She has no plan, very little money, and nowhere to go. But she must leave.

“Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt! May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agonised as in that hour left my lips; for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love.”

We leave poor Jane here, on the road to somewhere, with a broken heart.

Discussion:

Governesses: Not Quite a Servant, Definitely Not a Guest:

The governess in Victorian England was often a woman from a respectable but poor family, seeking an income. She was someone who could teach basic skills like drawing, painting, and modern languages such as French and German. But most importantly, the governess was someone who could teach a young woman to become a well-bred lady. She possessed a refinement that set her apart from the servants, but as an employee, she also wasn’t “one of the family.”

It could be a very lonely life. Their days were filled with teaching often unruly children while managing the demands and expectations of the parents. When Blanche Ingram describes her experience with governesses, she has nothing but horrible things to say about “the whole tribe.” In front of Jane, she jokes about all the terrible tricks she and her siblings would play on their governesses (of which there were about a dozen). Blanche’s mother implores her not to talk about governesses.

“My dearest, don’t mention governesses; the word makes me nervous. I have suffered a martyrdom from their incompetency and caprice. I thank Heaven I have now done with them!”

Blanche describes her governesses as “half of them detestable and the rest ridiculous, and all incubi,” so naturally, she and her siblings had to torture and tease these poor women. When we get to Agnes Grey later in the year, we will see how terrible the life of a governess can be.

And yet, Jane appears to have a very different experience in her role as Adèle’s governess. She is not ostracized by the other servants; she is welcomed by the Master of the house and is spoken to as an intellectual equal.1 And Jane seems to enjoy her time with Adèle. The child may be a little dull, but she is sweet and appears to give Jane little trouble.

But is Jane Eyre a typical Victorian governess? She has no family to turn to, no connections, and she wasn’t raised to be “a lady.” Yet, she is educated and she can draw and speak French. But can she teach Adèle how to be a well-bred lady in Victorian society? Is this why she receives only one reply when she advertises for a position as a governess? Is she only suited to be a governess in this strange house filled with secrets for this young girl of dubious origins?

The life of a governess is fascinating, and I highly recommend watching this video from Ellie Dashwood if you want to learn more. I also encourage you to read the Peterson article listed in the sources below. The author goes into detail about the role of governesses, what happened to them upon retirement, and the difficulties they faced, especially in middle-class homes.

Bertha Mason, Jane Eyre, and Submission:

When we finally discover who has been stalking the halls of Thornfield, setting fire to the bed linens, and tearing Jane’s veil, we don’t find a woman but a caged beast. Beather is depicted as corpulent, dark, frantic, and unkempt. She is as far from the kind and very human Jane Eyre as one can get. Bertha is more than crazy—she’s beastly.

Rochester claims that her madness is hereditary and was concealed from him and his family.

“Bertha Mason is mad; and she came of a mad family; idiots and maniacs through three generations! Her mother, the Creole, was both a madwoman and a drunkard!—as I found out after I had wed the daughter: for they were silent on family secrets before. Bertha, like a dutiful child, copied her parent in both points. I had a charming partner—pure, wise, modest: you can fancy I was a happy man. I went through rich scenes! Oh! my experience has been heavenly, if you only knew it!”

Bertha comes from a long line of mad women, and her madness is worsened by her mother’s Creole blood. Jane accepts Rochester’s explanation of events as fact and never questions it further. She is told that his wife is mad, and when Bertha is revealed, she is clearly insane. But what truly made Bertha go insane? Are we to believe it’s her Creole blood? Is Charlotte asking the reader to judge her based on her potentially mixed blood? Is this an exploration of the ravages of colonialism? Or is this an accepted description of madness in a Victorian novel?

I think there’s an argument to be made that the unequal marriage between Rochester and Bertha is the cause of her insanity. Rochester is duped into marrying a stranger for her money; there is no love or mutual respect in this marriage. Bertha is then taken from her home in Jamaica, brought to England, and hidden away from society.

“Only a marriage founded on mutual respect and mutual need could hope to prove happy and durable.” (Porter, 1976) Could marriage be the corrupting factor? In the Victorian era, women lost the few individual rights they might have had when they married. Their property, money, and even their bodily autonomy fell under their husband’s control. A wife had to surrender all of herself to her spouse, potentially even her sanity. Jane seems to understand the risks that come with marriage. She may be naive, but she recognizes the dangers of losing control over herself. She had no choice as a child and was subjected to the whims and dictates of her Aunt Reed. As an adult, Jane is determined to only submit on her own terms.

According to Porter (1976), “the secret of Jane Eyre’s triumph resides in her instinctive understanding of the fact that, especially when coupled with a sense of class superiority, male sexuality is a destructive force.” Jane wants to give in to Rochester and be with him despite his wife because she loves him. But she also understands that giving in to her desire would put her completely in his power. When Rochester is explaining his past with her, he tells her how much he hates the memory of his string of mistresses, and she heeds the warning. Becoming his mistress is an impossible role for her to play in the world as she knows it. (Shapiro, 1968). The only way for this relationship to work is for it to be based on some form of mutual respect and equality, which she will never find as his mistress.

The only solution is for Jane to leave Thornfield for a place with no connection to Rochester. “She has the strength of character to resist the powers of men in a society dominated by men” (Porter, 1976). But she still needs to remove any temptation that may cause her to give in to her desire for Rochester. Jane has an instinct for survival, and Bertha is a reminder of what surrendering to a man can do to a woman. Unfortunately, as we will see in the final chapters, Jane’s happiness will ultimately be built on Bertha’s suffering.2

I encourage you all to read Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys after finishing Jane Eyre. Rhys’s exploration of who Bertha could have been before Rochester and how this marriage doomed her to a life of madness is the perfect companion to the novel. Will we ever know what Charlotte pictured as Bertha’s backstory? No, but Rhys gives us a lot to ponder about patriarchy, colonialism, and the hazards of a bad marriage.

I also recommend reading this excellent essay by , “The Language of Slavery in Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre.” It’s an excellent exploration of slavery and colonialism in the novel. I really enjoyed it.

Rochester: Byronic...Hero?

I’m very interested to hear everyone’s thoughts on Rochester at this point in the novel (and how they have or haven’t changed after finishing the book). For me, the real hero of this story is Jane. I don’t think she needs to share the spotlight with anyone else. But we can’t discuss Jane Eyre and not include some discussion about Rochester.

I realized while rereading Jane Eyre that Rochester is probably the first morally gray character I encountered in literature. While I love him I also find him to be a deeply flawed man. So, let’s look at some Pros and Cons for Rochester:

Pro:

• He loves Jane and doesn’t care about their differences in class or society.

• He would commit a grievous sin (bigamy) to be with her.

• He would give Jane the world if she were only let him (not that she wants to be spoiled).

• The man can spin a romantic line:

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you—especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you,—you’d forget me.”

SWOON!!!

• Finally, I have to give him a point for trying to keep Bertha out of an asylum, which in Victorian England would have been hell on earth.3

Cons:

• I hate the way he teases Jane with the idea that he will marry Blanche Ingram just to make her jealous.

• He doesn’t listen to Jane when she repeatedly asks him not to lavish her with finery.

• He can be a tad demanding.

• He had multiple affairs with questionable women, and he’s probably Adèle’s real father (not that he’d admit to it).

• He takes advantage of the major power imbalance between him and Jane.

• And of course, HE LOCKED HIS WIFE IN THE ATTIC AND PRETENDED SHE WASN’T THERE!

So tell me, is Rochester a good man? Does he deserve Jane’s love?

Biographical Note:

Patrick Brontë’s Eye Surgery and The Origins of Jane Eyre:

By 1840, Patrick Brontë’s eyesight had deteriorated to the point that he could hardly care for himself. The sisters were not yet published authors; instead, they found varying levels of success as teachers and governesses. Branwell was proving to be a disappointment and could no longer be relied upon to support the family financially. The only person who could reliably support the Brontë household was the aging Patrick. If he went completely blind, he could lose his position, and the family would face severe hardship.

It was imperative that Charlotte and Patrick find a solution. She and her father traveled to Manchester in the summer of 1846 to see eye specialist Dr. Wilson. The doctor informed them that the only solution was for Patrick to undergo a radical procedure to surgically remove his cataracts. With no other options, Charlotte and Patrick moved into lodgings in Manchester, and Patrick underwent the surgery without any anesthesia. Unlike today, the recovery time for cataract surgery was lengthy and required the patient to spend weeks in darkness, moving as little as possible, with round-the-clock nursing care. As Patrick recovered, Charlotte took this time to start a new novel—the one that would become Jane Eyre.

Kate from the YouTube channel The Brontë Sisters has an excellent video about Patrick’s surgery, which saved his eyesight and helped inspire Jane Eyre. I recommend watching it if you want to learn more about this period in Patrick and Charlotte’s lives.

Wrapping up:

Hot dang! This was a long one! I must wrap this up so I can get started on our final post for this slow read of Jane Eyre. I hope you're enjoying the novel, and I look forward to reading all your comments.

Thank you for joining me. Happy Reading!

Sources:

1. Brontë, C. (2007). Jane Eyre (Dover Thrift Editions). Dover Publications.

2. Peterson, M. J. (1970). The Victorian Governess: Status Incongruence in Family and Society. Victorian Studies, 14(1), 7–26. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3826404

3. Porter, D. (1976). Of Heroines and Victims: Jean Rhys and Jane Eyre. The Massachusetts Review, 17(3), 540–552. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25088673

4. Shapiro, A. (1968). In Defense of Jane Eyre. Studies in English Literature, 1500-1900, 8(4), 681–698. https://doi.org/10.2307/449473
   

As we usually do, I will provide a summary of the reading and then follow with discussion points to spark conversation in the comments. I’ve also packed this post full of videos and articles for you to read if you want to go deeper into any of the points mentioned at the end.

That’s enough preamble, let’s get to it!

Leave a comment

Summary:

Charlotte Brontë introduces us to Jane when she is ten years old, orphaned, and living with her widowed Aunt Reed and her three children: Eliza, John, and Georgiana. The Reeds are a well-off family who took her in after the death of her parents. Jane’s mother was Mr. Reed’s sister, who married a poor clergyman, Reverend Eyre, against her family’s wishes.

“...my father had been a poor clergyman; that my mother had married him against the wishes of her friends, who considered the match beneath her; that my grandfather Reed was so irritated at her disobedience, he cut her off without a shilling; that after my mother and father had been married a year, the latter caught the typhus fever while visiting among the poor of a large manufacturing town where his curacy was situated, and where that disease was then prevalent: that my mother took the infection from him, and both died within a month of each other.”

Uncle Reed welcomes her into the family, but he’s the only one who is kind to her. When he dies, the remaining members of the family make it clear that Jane is an unwanted burden. When we meet Jane, she’s friendless and unhappy.

Mrs. Reed and her children, especially her son John, are cruel to young Jane. When we meet Jane, she’s hiding on a window bench reading The History of British Birds, when John comes looking for her. Calling her a “bad animal” when he can’t find her. But when he does find her hiding on the window seat with one of their books, he starts in with his customary abuse, making sure Jane knows she’s not a real member of the family but an interloper.

“You have no business to take our books; you are a dependent, mama says; you have no money; your father left you none; you ought to beg, and not to live here with gentlemen’s children like us, and eat the same meals we do, and wear clothes at our mama’s expense.”

The verbal abuse escalates into violence, and John throws a book at Jane, hitting her in the head. Jane fights back, calling John a rat and a murderer. She compares him to Nero and Caligula, and her rage takes over. When Mrs. Reed and the servants find her, Jane is the one who gets punished. She’s locked in the Red Room, where Mr. Reed died. But this is nothing new for Jane. She is often abused by the children and punished when she tries to stand up for herself.

“...you are less than a servant, for you do nothing for your keep. There, sit down, and think over your wickedness.”

With her Uncle gone, Jane’s life lacks love and comfort. (I’m unsure how much “loving affection” she received from her Uncle, but it seems that the abuse was less under his watch.) She’s a child on edge, waiting for the next insult. Her frustration with this life is almost too much for her to bear.

“Why was I always suffering, always browbeaten, always accused, for ever condemned? Why could I never please? Why was it useless to try to win any one’s favour? Eliza, who was headstrong and selfish, was respected. Georgiana, who had a spoiled temper, a very acrid spite, a captious and insolent carriage, was universally indulged. Her beauty, her pink cheeks and golden curls, seemed to give delight to all who looked at her, and to purchase indemnity for every fault. John no one thwarted, much less punished; though he twisted the necks of the pigeons, killed the little pea-chicks, set the dogs at the sheep, stripped the hothouse vines of their fruit, and broke the buds off the choicest plants in the conservatory: he called his mother “old girl,” too; sometimes reviled her for her dark skin, similar to his own; bluntly disregarded her wishes; not unfrequently tore and spoiled her silk attire; and he was still “her own darling.” I dared commit no fault: I strove to fulfil every duty; and I was termed naughty and tiresome, sullen and sneaking, from morning to noon, and from noon to night.”

She understands the injustices she faces living with the Reeds, but she’s just a child—powerless to change her situation. She can’t even stand up for herself without risking more punishments and reprimands. Jane is distraught while locked in the Red Room, suffering a fit (fainting or seizing?). When she recovers, she’s in her room with Bessie at her bedside. This is the first time we have seen her experience kindness at Gateshead. These comforting moments are few and far between for Jane. Bessie and the maid, Sarah, take turns watching over Jane as she recovers from her fit in the Red Room. The doctor, Mr. Lloyds, is called and expresses concern for Jane and her treatment in the Reed household. He sees how she’s neglected and abused. He asks if she has any other family she could live with, but Jane is alone in the world, with only the Reeds to care for her.

Several months pass, and life at Gateshead returns to its usual routine. One day, Jane is called to the drawing room to meet a visitor named Mr. Brocklehurst. He questions Jane about the Bible, hell, and Christian duty. Mr. Brocklehurst runs a charity school for orphans, the Lowood School, and has come to inspect her before accepting her admission. He is a strict and puritanical man who only sees wickedness in Jane because that’s what Mrs. Reed wants him to see. Despite his stern demeanor (Jane describes him as a "black pillar”), going away to school is Jane’s chance to escape the abuse she endures at the Reeds. Honestly, she’s so excited to leave that she tells Mrs. Reed exactly how she feels about her.

“You think I have no feelings, and that I can do without one bit of love or kindness; but I cannot live so: and you have no pity. I shall remember how you thrust me back—roughly and violently thrust me back—into the red-room, and locked me up there, to my dying day; though I was in agony; though I cried out, while suffocating with distress, ‘Have mercy! Have mercy, Aunt Reed!’ And that punishment you made me suffer because your wicked boy struck me—knocked me down for nothing. I will tell anybody who asks me questions, this exact tale. People think you a good woman, but you are bad, hard-hearted. You are deceitful!”

Four days later, Jane is packed and ready to leave Gateshead. Bessie is the only member of the household there to see her off. At ten, Jane is sent to travel alone by coach to the school. Brave Jane steps boldly into the next chapter of her life—Lowood School.

“I hardly knew what I was, Gateshead and my past life seemed floated away to an immeasurable distance, the present was vague and strange, and the future I could form no conjecture.”

While Lowood represents freedom to Jane, it is far from being a paradise. Despite her warm welcome, the school is cold, the meals are inedible and sparse, and the punishments are harsh (especially when Mr. Brocklehurst is inspecting the students). And yet, there are bright spots at Lowood School.

First, Jane finds a mother figure in Miss Temple, the kind headmistress of Lowood. She does what she can to make the school tolerable for the girls, but she is constrained by Mr. Brocklehurst’s strict, punitive rules for students. She provides extra meals from her own pockets and offers considerable warmth to the otherwise miserable institution. Miss Temple encourages Jane to stay at Lowood to teach when her time as a student ends. She creates a home for the orphaned and otherwise friendless Jane.

The second bright spot is fellow student Helen Burns. When Jane arrives at Lowood, she is filled with anger and resentment toward the Reeds and her treatment at Gateshead. Helen has a forgiving and humble nature, and she teaches Jane to temper her anger by trusting the Bible's teachings.

Jane: “...I must dislike those who, whatever I do to please them, persist in disliking me; I must resist those who punish me unjustly. It is as natural as that I should love those who show me affection, or submit to punishment when I feel it is deserved.”

Helen: “Heathens and savage tribes hold that doctrine, but Christians and civilised nations disown it.”

Helen: “Love your enemies; bless them that curse you; do good to them that hate you and despitefully use you.”

Jane: “Then I should love Mrs. Reed, which I cannot do; I should bless her son John, which is impossible.”

Helen is adamant that trust in the Lord’s teaching and following the word of God will lead to salvation. Jane cannot change her aunt or her cousins, but she can love them as the Lord instructed. Helen becomes Jane’s moral compass. Jane might not fully embrace her advice and may view it with skepticism, but she learns to control her outbursts of rage over the injustices she faces. Instead, she begins to trust in her own goodness. It will be time for Jane to fully forgive Mrs. Reed for her ill treatment; until then, Jane does her best to embody the values Helen taught her.

Unfortunately, Helen Burns is ill. She coughs often, has a “bright tint of her cheek,” and “a liquid lustre of her eyes.” Like Charlotte’s sisters, Helen is slowly dying of consumption. “Semi-starvation and neglected colds had predisposed most of the pupils to receive infection: forty-five out of the eighty girls lay ill at one time.” When the cold and cramped conditions at the school lead to an outbreak of typhus, Helen’s health worsens.

While sickness spreads through the school, Helen is taken to the safety of Miss Temple’s room. Unfortunately, there is no saving Helen from the disease that is slowly killing her. One night, Jane sneaks out to find Helen in a small cot in Miss Temple’s room. Helen has no fear of dying and knows that death is coming for her.

“I am very happy, Jane; and when you hear that I am dead, you must be sure and not grieve: there is nothing to grieve about. We all must die one day, and the illness which is removing me is not painful; it is gentle and gradual: my mind is at rest. I leave no one to regret me much: I have only a father; and he is lately married, and will not miss me. By dying young, I shall escape great sufferings.”

Jane stays with Helen in her sickbed but wakes to find that Helen died in the night. Helen is buried in the Brocklebridge churchyard. Many years later, Jane will provide a grey marble tablet to mark her dear friend’s grave.

When the typhus epidemic passes, the school board removes Mr. Brocklehurst from his role. A new building is erected in better conditions, and life at Lowood improves dramatically. Jane stays on at the school for eight more years, six as a pupil and two as a teacher. When Miss Temple leaves the school to marry and start her own life, Jane itches for change.

“I tired of the routine of eight years in one afternoon. I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing. I abandoned it and framed a humbler supplication; for change, stimulus: that petition, too, seemed swept off into vague space: “Then,” I cried, half desperate, “grant me at least a new servitude!”

She advertises her services as a governess, one of the few areas of employment open to her as a woman in this period. She receives one response from a “Mrs. Fairfax, Thornfeild, near Millcote, --shire.” Jane leaves the relative safety of Lowood for the unknown at Thornfield (and doubles her teaching salary).

We will read about Jane’s time at Thornfield Hall in this month’s reading.

Discussion:

Representations of Childhood:

Charlotte Brontë shows Jane as a passionate child. Children were expected to be seen and not heard, and they weren’t supposed to have desires or express strong emotions. While this might reflect a Victorian ideal, the reality is that children can feel injustice just as deeply as adults. Jane’s anger stems from how unfairly her aunt and cousins treat her. She knows she has done nothing to deserve that harshness. She’s being punished for the “sins” of her mother, who was disowned for marrying someone below her station. Jane is treated like an intruder, an animal, an outsider. When she defends herself or asks for better treatment, the Reeds become even more cruel and hateful.

Yes, Jane is a bit wild, but can you blame her? From the beginning, we see that Jane has strong convictions and determination. She won’t willingly suffer at others’ hands, and she isn’t afraid to speak her mind. Helen Burns might serve as a role model for being reserved, but Jane is still Jane—passionate, wild, and kind. Growing up involves learning how to manage her emotions. The Jane we meet at Thornfield is calmer and more reserved than the ten-year-old we saw at the start of the novel. But don’t be fooled; Jane is still a young woman with feelings and desires.

The British Library has a short video on childhood in Jane Eyre that you may find interesting.

I also found a short article on Victorian childhood, if you want to go deeper. According to the article, “the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals was created in 1824. Which was 67 years before the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, which was created in 1891.”—truly shocking.

If you want to learn more about the Brontë children’s childhoods, The Brontë Sisters on YouTube has a wonderful video you can watch.

Christian Hypocrisy:

As the daughter of an Anglican clergyman, it’s no surprise that Charlotte’s novel centers on Christian values and themes. But Jane Eyre is not your typical Victorian novel preaching Christian doctrine. Charlotte dares to critique the hypocrisy of some members of the faith, most notably Mr. Brocklehurst.

Mr. Brocklehurst is a man who enforces strict, puritanical rules on his pupils. For example, they cannot be vain enough to “show off” their natural curls or complain about not having enough food to eat. These orphans and abandoned girls must be grateful for what the good Lord provides; wanting more is considered sinful. Brocklehurst’s interpretation of Christian charity is cold and comes with strings attached. Meanwhile, his own daughters are dressed in the finest fashions, including hair curled to perfection. What he deems “sinful” for the charity girls is morally acceptable for someone of Brocklehurst’s social class. He isn’t truly following the teachings of the Bible; instead, he twists scripture to control these girls and uphold the social hierarchy.

Compare Mr. Brocklehurst to Jane’s moral guide, Helen Burns. Helen embodies Christian virtues like forgiveness and patience. Her interpretation of scripture is loving. Helen rises above everyday struggles through her faith in God and belief in an afterlife. Her personal devotion to God inspires Jane to develop her own inner faith. We see Jane transform from an angry young girl into a composed young woman. She learns unconditional forgiveness from Helen and develops her own moral compass that guides her to do what is right throughout the rest of the novel. But beneath her composed exterior, Jane remains a passionate woman, as we will see during her time at Thornfield Hall.

I found an interesting piece by Charlotte Harris about Christian hypocrisy in Jane Eyre. Check it out if you want to read more on this subject.

Biographical Note:

When Charlotte was eight years old, she and her three sisters, Maria, Elizabeth, and Emily, were sent to the Clergy Daughters’ School at Cowan Bridge in Lancashire. The school’s sanitary conditions were terrible. Along with poor food and cramped spaces, disease spread quickly among the students. In 1825, there was a typhus outbreak at Cowan Bridge. Charlotte’s older sisters, Maria and Elizabeth, became ill and were sent home. They died soon after returning to the parsonage. Patrick Brontë withdrew Charlotte and Emily from school and arranged for them to be educated at home. Charlotte blamed her time at this school for her ongoing health problems throughout her life.

The Cowan Bridge school inspired Lowood School in Jane Eyre. Charlotte even modeled Mr. Brocklehurst on the headmaster of Cowan Bridge School, Reverend William Carus Wilson. The Reverend threatened to sue for libel, but Charlotte wrote him a letter apologizing, and he decided not to pursue legal action against the young writer.

If you want to read more about The School for Clergymen’s Daughters, you can check out this article from The Brontë Schoolhouse.

Wrapping up:

In February, we will read chapters 11-27, which cover Jane’s time at Thornfield Hall, where we will finally meet Mr. Rochester. I look forward to exploring and discussing this next section with you at the end of the month.

Thank you for joining me in this slow read of Jane Eyre.

Happy Reading!

Happy New Year! Let’s dive into our first Brontë novel!

We’re starting the new year with my personal favorite, Jane Eyre!1 Originally published by Smith, Elder & Co. in 1847 under the pseudonym Currer Bell, Jane Eyre blends elements of bildungsroman, Gothic fiction, and social criticism. Written in the first person, Jane Eyre offers a realistic portrayal of the narrator's inner life, including her desires, fears, and struggles. The novel became an instant bestseller, but it wasn’t without its critics.

Many of you are probably familiar with this classic Victorian tale of a young orphaned girl named Jane as she finds her way in the world. She’s sent away to a horrible boarding school, eventually becomes a teacher, and then a governess. When she finds herself at Thornfield Hall, Jane’s life changes forever. She experiences love, loss, fear, and heartbreak before eventually finding happiness on her own terms.

I’m very excited to dig into this text with you all.

Reading Schedule:

We will be reading at a relaxed pace over the first three months of the year. I will post monthly updates with discussion points on the readings. In our first chunk of reading, we meet Jane and watch her grow up into the young woman who will eventually become governess at Thornfield Hall. I look forward to hearing your thoughts and takeaways as we go through the novel.

If you don’t have a copy of Jane Eyre and want to join, you can download a free e-book from Project Gutenberg. There’s also a LibriVox recording if you prefer audiobooks.

There are so many movie adaptations of Jane Eyre, and I wonder which is your favorite? Mine is the 1997 A&E adaptation with Samantha Morton and Ciarán Hinds. Ciarán is my favorite Rochester (and possibly my favorite Capt. Wentworth, as well).

If you’re feeling particularly ambitious, you might want to read Jean Rhys’s postcolonial prequel to Jane Eyre, Wide Sargasso Sea. Or you could even watch the 2006 TV film adaptation with Rafe Spall and Rebecca Hall.

Themes and Major Characters:

Here are some key themes to keep in mind while reading:

• Jane’s search for family and belonging: When we first meet Jane, she’s alone in the world with no one to protect her. Throughout the novel, Jane is on a quest for both physical belonging and spiritual fulfillment. How and where does she find belonging?

• The “Woman Issue”: Being a woman alone in the world is an incredibly precarious place in the Victorian era. Working-class women might find employment in a factory or laundry, but someone from a good family with an education like Jane’s has far fewer options. The best protection and stability a woman can have is through a good marriage, but what if that’s not possible? In what ways is Jane feminist?

• The struggle between love, independence, and self-respect: Jane refuses to compromise her principles or self-respect for love. She consistently chooses dignity and moral integrity over opportunities that would compromise her values. She often struggles to balance her emotional desires with her rational judgment. She’s passionate by nature, but her strong moral convictions temper this passion.

• The Gothic and the Supernatural: We can’t forget all the ways Charlotte uses Gothic motifs and supernatural elements to create tension and build a deeper emotional connection with the text.2

Finally, let’s take a look at some of the characters we’re going to meet in Jane Eyre:

• Jane Eyre: Jane is our protagonist and narrator. She’s orphaned and left to live with her horrible Aunt Reed (along with her equally terrible children). Jane is an outsider from the start, but we see her grow into a strong, independent woman throughout the novel.

• Edward Rochester: He’s the brooding master of Thornfield Hall and Jane’s employer, but could he be more? He’s a passionate man with a dark past, but is he worthy of a woman like Jane?

• Bertha: Who the heck is Bertha, and what is she doing at Thornfield Hall? If you’ve never read Jane Eyre, I’m not going to spoil the surprise for you.

• Mrs. Fairfax: The housekeeper at Thornfield. A kind, motherly figure who provides Jane with comfort and stability during her time as governess.

• Adèle Varens: Jane comes to Thornfield to take a position as a governess to Mr. Rochester’s young French ward (and possibly his illegitimate daughter), Adèle. She is a charming young girl, if a little slow, and they grow quite close during Jane’s time at Thornfield Hall.

• St. John Rivers: A clergyman who takes Jane in when she has nowhere else to go. He’s a generous, kind, Christian man, but he lacks passion.

Of course, there are so many more wonderful characters, but these are our main players.

I hope this brief introduction has you ready to start Jane Eyre. I look forward to discussing the novel with you over the coming weeks, so please share your thoughts in the comments.

As always, thank you for joining me on this literary journey.

Happy Reading!

I’m finally ready to announce the reading schedule for My Year With The Brontë Sisters. I spent the past year reading seven novels by Edith Wharton and found it to be a very rewarding experience. I’ve enjoyed diving into an author’s canon and layering in reading about their lives and their world. I can’t wait to have the same immersive experience with the Brontë Sisters.

Here is my announcement video for my 2026 reading project:

If you’re not one for videos, I made this cute graphic with the reading schedule. Feel free to share this with friends who might want to join in.

I will share my journey through the windswept Yorkshire Moors (and beyond) here on Substack and on YouTube. We will kick the year off with my personal favorite, Jane Eyre. An introduction to the novel will follow soon, so make sure you subscribe so you don’t miss a post!

P.S. Please let me know if you know any fellow Brontë lovers who would like to chat with me about their books and/or their lives. I think it would be fun to share some interviews throughout the year in addition to my own ramblings about the books.