Juli's Jane Eyre Musings

It’s no secret that I absolutely love Jane Eyre. I usually tend to gush about the combination of the exquisitely-wrought language and the wildly romantic plot. But my analysis for this reading was to focus on the reasons that this book is a classic, and specifically what it lends to a pursuit of a TJ education.

First, Jane’s story of family is essentially a broken story. She’s in a loveless situation from the start, and is even treated cruelly. It invokes compassion in the reader and a sense of relation to Jane; in me, it always engenders a resolve to treat everyone, and especially confused and frightened children, with as much love and compassion as possible. Mrs. Reed and Bessie and the other children constantly harped on how generous and kind Mrs. Reed was, when she, quite obviously to us and to Jane, was horrible. The lack of Christian feeling is most starkly characterized by the juxtaposition of Mr. Brocklehurst, the outward Christian, and Miss Temple, the kindly headmistress. It reminds me that the outward signs of compassion and generosity are empty without an inward and actual compassionate love to motivate them. I have to fulfill my responsibilities without grudging and with an abundance of love.

Second, there is a great lesson of endurance and striving for reconciliation to difficult circumstance throughout the book. The years of privation at Lowood, the difficulty of keeping love in check at Thornfield, and the struggles for survival of the body and the mind with the Rivers family were all testaments to the importance of enduring difficulty well. There is a great lesson there. We have to teach children, and remind ourselves, of the importance of taking our burdens to God and working as hard as we can to improve our situations without too much outward complaint. That’s a quality that is rare now, and all the more admirable in this age of reality TV and soul-baring talk shows. I’m not talking about suffering needlessly in silence. I’m advocating a willingness to work through our difficulties without multiplying them by constant complaint. Georgiana Reed’s character should be curb enough to any inclination to selfishly burden others with what should be our personal struggles.

The most important lesson of Jane Eyre is that no circumstance, however tragic, is ever a righteous justification for the breaking of vows or commandments, or for trespassing on personal integrity. The moment of most bitter heartbreak in the book is the discovery that all Jane’s hopes for finally being loved are dashed. She has the opportunity to stay with Mr. Rochester outside of marriage; and consider all the ways that Jane is set up to be completely justified in giving in to that temptation:

1) Class distinction. Mr. Rochester is a wealthy land-owner, and Jane is a penniless orphan as well as his employee. Society dictates that she is absolutely his inferior in class, which should require her compliance.
2) Gender distinction. Women of Jane’s time have very little power and are at the mercy of men for almost all their support. Also, her role as the woman in the relationship means that her responsibility is to nurture and comfort rather than to defy.
3) Emotional investment. Jane is deeply in love with Mr. Rochester and has his overwhelming passion concentrated on her. For an 18-year-old with almost no prior experience of being loved, this should be the circumstance that alters any previously-made determinations.

So here is the moment of crisis, followed by the moment of decision:

"Is it better to drive a fellow-creature to despair than to transgress a mere human law, no man being injured by the breach? for you have neither relatives nor acquaintances whom you need fear to offend by living with me?"

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

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

This is the real test of life. Will we, in the face of whatever tragic circumstance befalls us, choose a path consistent with our values, or not? It’s a question we answer every day in some way, mostly on a smaller scale than Jane’s. Our answer, most days, doesn’t hold the threat of immediately making us homeless and penniless. But all our daily choices will help us either conform to our values or reject them.

So, that’s just a portion of the genius of this novel we can discuss. I wish we had 3 months to talk about this one, so we could thoroughly get into the language and characters of the story to my heart's content.