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Jane Eyre 2011: Week 1 - Volume the First: Part 1 - Chapters I-V
Christopher wrote: "I have to wonder if Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792) wasn't something that all three women read and thought about at some length? "Didn't the biography you read mention that? Or haven't you finished it yet? I would think if they had read the Vindication, it would be of sufficient significance to be worth mentioning.
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Which may validate the saying "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
Intere..."
Soooo, we should mistreat our children to make them stronger? 'That dog don't hunt for me', Everyman.
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Which may validate the saying "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
Intere..."
I believe that whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but that doesn't mean that I can see abuse of any sort as good for the child. Who might I have been in a loving, supportive home? Might I have gone to college and had a college experience? Might I have made less mistakes in life? Might I be less shy and introverted? Might I have accomplished something more than I did?
It's pretty hard to be an effective, productive person when you grow up knowing you were unwanted, and constantly being told you are unlovable and stupid. Jane is hearing the same thing and feeling isolated or physically being isolated. I've been there too. I think that treatment like what we have been discussing, is never good for anybody and simply stunts growth, talent, and ability. Getting off my personal soapbox now.
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Which may validate the saying "whatever doesn't kill you makes you str..."
Well said, Deborah, well said!
And your comment that--
"I think that treatment like what we have been discussing, is never good for anybody and simply stunts growth, talent, and ability."is spot-on too. It is simply abusive, and should not be tolerated in any way, shape, or form.
Christopher wrote: "ESoooo, we should mistreat our children to make them stronger? 'That dog don't hunt for me', Everyman."
No, no, no. Not what I was saying at all.
But IF they are mistreated, might that that have some benefits as well as many detriments? And in a way, this is what military boot camp raining is about, isn't it? And the "tough love" programs? That harsh treatment can lead to stronger people?
Not at all am I advocating intentional abuse or mistreatment of children. Just pointing out that, based on Deborah's experience, assuming Jane was actually mistreated in the ways she describes, that might have would up being offset by some benefits in her adulthood.
Or don't you think that is possible?
Deborah wrote: "EIt's pretty hard to be an effective, productive person when you grow up knowing you were unwanted, and constantly being told you are unlovable and stupid. Jane is hearing the same thing and feeling isolated or physically being isolated. "Let's not forget to keep this thought in mind and bring it back as we read further into Jane's adulthood.
There are certainly moments where Jane could be described as a proto-feminist (or indeed Bronte, which Woolf was very critical about) but Bronte only allows it to go so far - no happy single gals allowed in 19th century literature it seems.
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I went through boot camp in the early 1970s. Was it insanely difficult? Was it physically and mentally challenging? You betcha, but that was a decision that I entered into willingly and largely knowing full well what I was getting into. In a civilized society a child has the right to a decent, loving, and nurturing childhood--and a parent has the obligation and responsibility to provide that environment. My two-cents.
Georgie wrote: "There are certainly moments where Jane could be described as a proto-feminist (or indeed Bronte, which Woolf was very critical about) but Bronte only allows it to go so far - no happy single gals a..."Yes, I agree--Jane could be described as a proto-feminist, but there are some limits. I think that's something we'll want to watch as we move forward.
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Haven't gotten that far in Barker's biography yet, Everyman. I am just into the chapter "1836-1837" now. So, Charlotte is about 20 years old. I was simply speculating on the influence of Wollstonecraft based upon my reading and interpretation of the novels of the three sisters.
What a fired-up thread :) And in only 20-something hours of discution :)I loved "Jane Eyre" when I read it, but seeing her in the beginning being mistreated by relatives, I can't help but compare her to characters like "Oliver Twist" and "David Copperfield". In a sense that they are stereotypical characters of that aera, bildungsromane, where children have a hard life and then grow-up to be great people, leading fulfilled lives...
I do believe that Jane is not lying, only for the matter that throughout, she is plain and simple, not embellishing her life, only with notes of dramatization, characteristic of the epoch...
[Sorry if I do certain mistakes, grammar or vocabulary, but I'm not English :)]
Don't know how to enter this discussion since it is already feels so heated, at least to me, whether it is or not. I have already said this is not a novel for which I have the affection so many others have. In thinking about why that may be true, I realize that I probably did not read the novel until I was in my forties and read Wide Sargasso Sea alongside it. Having been through a fair amount of assertiveness training by that point in my life and having Rhys's read on abuse in parallel undoubtedly impacted my read. I'll return to that theme later.For now, let me say that I found the abuse described in the opening chapters almost inconceivable, certainly monstrous and devastating to a precocious female ten-year-old and sad for any child to endure. I also realize that the illustrations and the films with which I am familiar generally portray Mrs. Reed in a somewhat rapacious manner.
Without in any way doubting the veracity of the narrator, I found myself trying to understand a little better the dynamics of the situation. One of the things that struck me was, if Jane is ten, John Reed is fourteen, Mr. Reed "had been dead nine years", and Mrs. Reed "might be at that time some six or seven and thirty", then at the time of her widowhood, Mrs. Reed would have been twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old with four children to nurture, three of which she had borne herself. The youngest were probably Jane and Georgiana, with Jane an infant of about a year. So far (four chapters), I have been unable to discern the ages of Eliza and Georgiana, although at the moment I am guessing Eliza is the oldest and therefore perhaps 15 or 16, John we are told is 14, and Georgiana is younger. (I assume that birth order since the opening page names them as Eliza, John, and Georgina and oldest to youngest is fairly typical in books of that period, or even today.) That would imply Mrs. Reed, upon the death of her husband, was responsible for for four children seven years of age or younger, perhaps five years if John does happen to be the oldest.
Now none of this says anything about lessening reprehension of Mrs. Reed's behavior, but I do think it gives it context. One of the questions I now have is who did raise the infant Jane. (To what extent was it Bessie?) Jane certainly arrived before Mr. Reed died, although how long we have not been told. An infant takes and deserves a lot of attention and care and under one year may well have had a wet nurse in such a household.
Reading was my safe place, just like Jane. I never really saw that connection before tonight so it was very interesting to have a lightbulb moment. I am who I am because of my experiences.Wonderful story Deborah - like Chris, I was moved by your experiences and extremely pleased to hear that you overcame them. Perhaps as we read, we will also find that Jane overcomes the bad things she is telling us about her childhood and turns out a lovely person like you:). All memory seems to be unreliable to a certain extent, not many of us have total recall. It may be that Jane's memory is faulty but if that is so we can expect to see some textual evidence (as Georgie mentions about Atonement). If, for instance, we find later on that Jane describes the fight scene between her and John, or her relationship with her aunt, more benignly, we will be able to say 'Aha! She was being an unreliable narrator in Chaps 1/2'. Authors usually give us clues about unreliable narration. I remember that the servant Ellen in Wuthering Heights was revealed as an unreliable witness later in the book, as was Mr Lockwood but this was not immediately apparent.
Georgie: I am still very interested in your post about the Red Room - tell us more! I can see a feminist interpretation might be that the Red Room is like a womb and when Jane emerges from the room she enters another phase of her life - she is reborn, her wounds are healed. It fits in with the classical bildungsroman approach of 'the psychological and moral growth of the protagonist from youth to adulthood. (Wikipedia.) Is this the sort of thing Elaine Showalter was getting at? It is interesting too that Jane looks upon her time in the Red Room with horror and as a child saw the gleam of light as portent of a 'vision' but as an adult she corrects her childish impressions and: 'can now conjecture readily that this streak of light was, in all likelihood, a gleam from a lantern, carried by some one across the lawn: but then, prepared as my mind was for horror, shaken as my nerves were by agitation, I thought the swift-darting beam was a herald of some coming vision from another world.' This seems to be an honest reappraisal of the situation such as we all might make in similar circumstances and when telling a story.
Jane's description of the Red Room gives very gothic feel to the start of Jane's journey and now that you have mentioned it as being a 'feminine space' I can see that these elements and references to the supernatural are a very important beginning to the story.
I was also wondering if there is any religious symbolism in the description of the room. Is it too far fetched to say that she was, for instance, crucified and resurrected here? Is the reference to the white bed and the 'rushing of wings' significant?
This discussion is really interesting. Deborah, your story made me feel so sad but I'm glad you survived it and that you moved on with your life. Back to Jane, I don't have doubts as to the veracity of the narrator but, though I abhor Mrs Reed actions, I think she really thought that her actions would be beneficial to Jane. Right in the beginning of the book, Jane describes her mood while walking with the family as dreadful. From this, I infer that she wasn't a very pleasant company. At that time, woman were expected to be pleasant and kind all the time and I noticed that the her description of how she wants jane to act is exactly the Victorian ideal of women ("a more attractive and sprightly manner - something lighter, franker, more natural, as it were" and "Jane, I don't like cavillers or questioners [...] until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent")Given this social context, Mrs Reed trying to discipline her for "bad behavior" is probably what any other parent at that time would have done. I know this is harsh and I don't agree with this method but I have the feeling that at that time it was common practice. As to the scene when Jane is punished for hitting John I noticed two things. First, no one but the kids were there when John first hit Jane, and I doubt Eliza and Georgiana would tell the truth to defend Jane.The two other girls called the adults in time for them to witness Jane hitting John and, concerning the cut, Mrs Reed could easily have thought she got hurt during the altercation that followed. Second, again this comes a social facet, at the time, it was okay for a man (fathers, brothers, and husbands) to hit a women but a women should never, no matter the situation, hit a man. So again Mrs Reeds was preparing her for life. As to Mrs Reed calling Jane a deceitful creature, it reminds me of the victorian woman paradigma: a woman is either a "saint, pure" woman or a deceitful and tricky woman. Since Jane had enough "passion" and courage to display her feelings, hit her brother and answer back (something that women were not supposed to do)she must be, according to their point of view, a deceitful little girl and therefore it was Mrs Reed duty as a guardian to correct Jane's faults. I just want to say that I don't agree with anything that Mrs Reed did, and I certainly wouldn't do it to a kid, but I understand her possible motives given the social context. And Jane does sound like a passionate and courageous young girl and, at that time, that was considered a fault.
Great post Camilla and I agree that the whole scene is a corrective one in the Victorian sense, although hateful to us. Regarding Jane being a 'passionate and courageous young girl', the contemporary Quarterly Review wrote that Jane Eyre exemplified the "tone of mind and thought which has overthrown authority and violated every code human and divine." Additionally, The Westminster Review expressed a desire to stop "the daughters direct of Miss Jane Eyre." Finally, Matthew Arnold wrote, "Miss Brontë has written a hideous, undelightful, convulsed, constricted novel . . . one of the most utterly disagreeable books I've ever read . . . [because] the writer's mind contains nothing but hunger, rebellion and rage and therefore that is all she can, in fact, put in her book" Criticism was made of the first person narrative strategy in the book where 'such a strong voice ran against common views of the proper role [women]. Brontë's narrative strategy [was seen] as having ramifications for society at large by changing people's ways of thinking about gender and class.' (From The Victorian Web - I will post something further about this in Background info.)
On the subject of gender I got to thinking about the Red Room again whilst I was vacuuming this afternoon! Could it be an allusion to the onset of menstruation? Jane was 10, approaching the right age for such an event and the fall could have hastened its onset? Or would that have been too indelicate an idea for Charlotte?
Who would have thought that we would have an "argument" already over "Jane Eyre"? ;) But it is in the tradition of discussing literature. We had many a heated discussion in my lit classes, and I thought it was grand fun. And viewpoints change over time regarding texts. For example, the character of Hamlet was seen as a clown when the play first came out; now we see Hamlet as the first “modern man.”I think that both Madge's and Everyman's views are valid. I did some (very) quick research in some scholarly journals, and found that in one article written by a Ph.D. who felt that Jane was a reliable narrator, who illustrated a pious life. Unlike novels in the 18th century centering around orphans, Jane doesn't use her feminine wiles (as with Pamela) or lie (like Moll Flanders) to survive and/or prosper. (Both Pamela's and Moll's testimonies in those novels are not considered to be reliable.)
However, two other essayists felt that she was not a reliable narrator – in looking back at her life, the older Jane uses specific language to convince the reader to accept her viewpoint....and one of the writers says that she isn't very convincing in doing so.
(Can’t give you the links because I found them on one of the university’s library databases where I teach. Also, don’t want to quote them because of copyright issues, but don’t think there is a problem giving a very brief summary. All of the above is information that the average graduate student could tell you after reading the books.)
The point is that Ph.D.'s can't agree (as usual) on Jane's reliability so personally I think it's valid to have differing viewpoints here as well.
Also, whenever you have a novel written in the first person, the reader should always suspect what the narrator is saying.
And I have to admit that before this discussion, I always thought of Jane as reliable so to look at the novel in a different light is quite frankly interesting.
Georgie wrote: "There are certainly moments where Jane could be described as a proto-feminist (or indeed Bronte, which Woolf was very critical about) but Bronte only allows it to go so far - no happy single gals a..."I've always read Jane Eyre as a feminist reading, and I agree, the Brontes only go so far. But it is a big step from the 18th century female writers. For example, Austen illustrates how women are forced to marry well because they have no other options in life. Most of the men in the book - except Wickham and Mr. Collins - while flawed, are likable.
But the Brontes show the internal consequences of the patriarchal society. John Reed is the first character in the book that represents the negative side of a patriarch society, and we see in the first chapters a record of Jane's inner thoughts as she responds to him and the consequences of the way he treats her. Also, Mrs. Reed could be read as one of those women who are complicit by not standing up to the patriarchal society.
I'm surprised that Woolf would be critical of the Brontes. I'll have to look into that further. I remmeber in "A Room of One's Own" that she mocks people who criticize women for taking so long to try to overthrow the patriarchal society. I can't remember the quote word for word, but she writes something like, were they powdering their nose and vacationing in Monte Carlo? Obviously not. They were caring for home and family. And they weren't allowed to be educated and couldn't work outside and home, and again, forced to worry about marriage just to survive.
Christopher wrote: "Haven't gotten that far in Barker's biography yet, Everyman. I am just into the chapter "1836-1837" now. So, Charlotte is about 20 years old. I was simply speculating on the influence of Wollstonecraft based upon my reading and interpretation of the novels of the three sisters."
Let us know as you get deeper into the bio. Would be interesting to know.
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I will also take a look at my old copy of Margaret Lane's biography of the Brontes, The Bronte Story (1953), and see what I can ferret out.
Lily wrote: "Don't know how to enter this discussion since it is already feels so heated, at least to me, whether it is or not. I have already said this is not a novel for which I have the affection so many o..."Really nice post, Lily, and good to have the background you noted brought to the fore. It cannot have been an easy life for Mrs. Reed, a single parent, widowed in her twenties in an era which severely restricted women's rights, dealing with four young children, one of whom she had accepted into her home as an orphan because she had nowhere else to go but the poorhouse. Women were not supposed to be the heads of households in those days, but who would marry a widow with four young children to support? If Jane weren't dominating her own account of her life, I think we would have some real sympathy for the situation Mr. Reed found herself in.
My Goodness, what happened? There are already "heated arguements" and 69 massages and I last visited this a day ago but I like it. Like Lynnm I myself read ane Eyre as a feminist reading and I think we find read other Bronte novels in the same approach.
I'm ok with the argument of Jane being an unreliable narrator, but compared to someone like Nelly Dean in "Wuthering Heights" I think she is far more better. However this argument doesn't bug me because I like to look at both sides, for now I'd rather stick with the feminist view of the novel and as Lynnm mentioned about Austen's women who eventually end up being "passive women" Bronte women do not, specially not Jane.
I also agree with Lily about "Wide Saragossa Sea." Reading it kind a damaged the love I earlier had for this novel (it's a great response by the way) but still it doesn't really made a negative impact on Jane's character only on Rochester's.
Comment: thought I had made a post similar to this already, but it hasn't showed up. Looks as though somehow Goodreads lost it. But if it shows up and this turns out to be a duplicate, sorry! Lynnm wrote: "The point is that Ph.D.'s can't agree (as usual) on Jane's reliability so personally I think it's valid to have differing viewpoints here as well.
Also, whenever you have a novel written in the first person, the reader should always suspect what the narrator is saying.
And I have to admit that before this discussion, I always thought of Jane as reliable so to look at the novel in a different light is quite frankly interesting.
."
Thanks for those comments, Lynn. It's nice to know that there are experts who confirm that looking at JE skeptically is one appropriate approach to the book. Mind you, I'm not assuming that you will agree with my approach and conclusions, but I do appreciate that you bring an open mind to a different approach, and that there are experts who see it as a valid approach to the book.
We had many a heated discussion in my lit classes, and I thought it was grand fun.
And I hope everybody here is thinking this is grand fun. That's how it should be!
Wow! This already is a fascinating discussion. I wanted to add to the question of memory: Since it has already been mentioned that perhaps Jane's memory was not reliable in that she was seeing things as much worse than they actually were, couldn't we also say that she was not going far enough in her memory. Perhaps the reality was much worse! I think I have heard this before somewhere that usually we forget the bad memories and hold onto the good. I know my childhood was not happy, I had a terror for a brother with a missing tooth to show for it, and my parents were neglectful and demeaning, but I still tend to sentimentalize my childhood. I may not have become the introverted reader/writer that I have become today if it weren't for my childhood, but if I had a choice, I would not choose to have had it that way. Besides I think my literary bent was there at birth ;). In the scope of a lifetime, I think my treatment as a child has held me back from achieving things that I have wanted for the longest time and wish I could regain that time.Has it made me stronger? Absolutely not.
I also believe we see a little of her adult perspective and reasoning coming forward when she says (Chapter 1, pg 14 of my Gramercy edition): "It must have been most irksome to find herself (Mrs. Reed) bound by a hard-wrung pledge to stand in the stead of a parent to a strange child she could not love, and to see an uncongenial alien permanently intruded on her own family group." Although children do not have the capacity to sort out their emotions at the time they are experiencing them, Jane as an adult is able to see the situation from Mrs. Reed's perspective and begin to understand why she was treated this way. Knowing this, I think we can rely on Jane as a narrator. She is sorting through her memories with an adult mind.
I've been desperately searching for a quote by Sebastian Faulk in his novel Charlotte Grey, but cannot seem to find it. He talks of how grief is a process of forgetting, but tells it much more eloquently than this. Looking back, Jane seems to be grieving for her childhood and when telling her story, there is some evidence of "holes" in her memory. Words like "the next thing I remember", "I suppose I had a species of fit" etc. Memory is slippery, I must admit, but it is Jane's story and we should honor it even in its imperfection. Here is another quote by Sebastian Faulks:"Memory is the only thing that binds you to earlier selves; for the rest, you become an entirely different being every decade or so, sloughing off the old persona, renewing and moving on. You are not who you were, he told her, nor who you will be."
— Sebastian Faulks (Charlotte Gray)
Amalie wrote: "I also agree with Lily about "Wide Sargasso Sea." Reading it kind a damaged the love I earlier had for this novel (it's a great response by the way) but still it doesn't really made a negative impact on Jane's character only on Rochester's. "Thanks for the kind words, yours and those of others.
My apologies for misspelling the name of Rhys's book. Hopefully I have caught most of the missteps!
As I have said, I shall return to issues of the impact of Wide Sargasso Sea , but let me say here, for all its fascination, I don't think its impact on character assessment is as interesting as on the assumptions, presumptions, and implications about the transmittal of abuse through societal expectations, relationships and generations. It is on those topics that my gut says the Brontes were prescient and perhaps speak most incisively to our generation. But Rhys has helped us recognize and understand.
MadgeUK wrote: "Georgie: I was also wondering if there is any religious symbolism in the description of the room. Is it too far fetched to say that she was, for instance, crucified and resurrected here? Is the reference to the white bed and the 'rushing of wings' significant?"Given this was the master bedroom of the Reeds, I am more inclined towards seeing allusions to menarche and sexual initiation than to religious symbolism, although certainly for a writer of Bronte's background and personality, both are feasible and even possibly intertwined!
Lily wrote: "Given this was the master bedroom of the Reeds, I am more inclined towards seeing allusions to menarche and sexual initiation than to religious symbolism,"There may be great symbolism there. Or, CB may have intended none. At that time, rooms in upper class houses were often decorated in color themes, and guests would be directed to the blue room, the gold room, the green room, the red room, presumably without much meaning. Modern houses don't normally follow this practice, so since it is not common in today's society perhaps we attach significance to the room's color which CB never intended or even though of.
Or, of course, perhaps not.
An aside: for those who have visited the Bronte home, were the bedrooms there done in color schemes? If so, what colors were the children's rooms? On a quick search, I can't find any photos of the interior of the Parsonage.
Lynnm wrote: I think that both Madge's and Everyman's views are valid. I did some (very) quick research in some scholarly journals, and found that in one article written by a Ph.D. who felt that Jane was a reliable narrator, who illustrated a pious life. Unlike novels in the 18th century centering around orphans, Jane doesn't use her feminine wiles (as with Pamela) or lie (like Moll Flanders) to survive and/or prosper. (Both Pamela's and Moll's testimonies in those novels are not considered to be reliable.)
However, two other essayists felt that she was not a reliable narrator – in looking back at her life, the older Jane uses specific language to convince the reader to accept her viewpoint....and one of the writers says that she isn't very convincing in doing so"
I think this a really interesting topic and I can see textual evidence that support both points of view. I agree with Everyman in that a thread on that topic would be interesting, if everybody is respectful of the opinion of others of course. That way everybody can argue respectfully and maybe we could form an opinion as a group, and at the same time, challenge our personal opinions on this.I think it will be fun. Anyway, this is just an idea and I'd like to hear Chris opinion on this. And Chris, please don't be mad at me as I'm not trying to be subversive, I just thought it could be an interesting intellectual exercise.
Christopher wrote: I'd love to find out if there is any evidence of any of the sisters having encountered the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft.I have wondered about this too Christopher and have not found anything specific. However Wollstonecraft's writings were very popular at the time and if you have read them you can certainly see some of her ideas coming through, especially about female accomplishments and marriage. She was especially keen on proper education for women, not just an education based on becoming a 'proper' wife. Her writing and her life was subversive and the sisters may not have advertised the fact that they read them.
Everyman wrote: On a quick search, I can't find any photos of the interior of the Parsonage.There are photographs of the bedrooms in my Background link for Haworth Parsonage. They are not highly coloured but I wouldn't expect a parson's house to be.
Everyman wrote: "There may be great symbolism there. Or, CB may have intended none. ..."Yes! This is where we encroach on the post-modern questions of the extent to which a written text is the author's intent versus the interpretations of its readers versus the words themselves -- and how well can we "know" those.
Most authors pay a great deal of attention to the opening paragraphs of their novels because that is the reader's entry point into the whole story. Assuming that CB wrote at least her first paragraphs with care, I think they continue to deserve close reading.I have commented on Jane's dislike of the apparent tradition of family walks, which suggests to me at the start a separation between her and the other children though at that point we have no idea how it arose. I commented that it is not unusual in my experience for a parent who is engaged in a positive family interaction which one member seems not to want to engage in to excuse them until they do. Several other points seem to me notable.
First: she says "Mrs Reed" dined early, not auntie Reed or aunt whatever-her-first-name is, or even Mother, but the most formal address she could use. Victorian children were certainly expected to address adults more formally than we do today, but I still think this is notable as immediately demonstrating how distanced she appears to be from any emotional attachment to her aunt.
Second, I found the question she asked, "what does Bessie say I have done?" interesting. She has told us that Bessie is the nurse. The implication seems pretty clear to me that Bessie has told Mrs. Reed in the past of things Jane has done; this implies that Jane's behaviors have been an issue in the past, so perhaps ( agree I speculate a bit here, but I think only a bit) Mrs. Reed has good reason to be concerned that in her present mood Jane would not be a constructive member of the family group.
Jane's question can be taken in several ways. One is, I know what I did, but I want to know how did Bessie describe it, and was she fair or unfair in what she said about what I did? (An ancillary to that: how much trouble am I really in?) Another might be: I don't know what behavior is being complained of; what did I do wrong? Another might be: uh-oh, there are several things Bessie could have told you about; which one is it this time? Which one do I need to defend myself against? We can't know just from the question which of these (or other possible) meanings it was, but I think, given the context, that it is unlikely that she didn't know what she had done, since in that case she would be more likely to ask "what did I do wrong?" rather than "What does Bessie say I did?" I think the child who truly doesn't think they did anything wrong would have asked the first question, not the second. But that's just my opinion as a parent and grandparent of listening to my children; others may think the Bessie question natural.
The question doesn't seem that out of line to us today, who are used to children questioning adults. But to Victorian children, with the philosophy that children should be seen and not heard, I think it was reasonably heard as a direct challenge to adult authority, particularly if Mrs. Reed believed that Jane knew perfectly well what she had done. For the times, I don't consider Mrs. Reed's annoyance with the appearance of being challenged to be unreasonable, though I see why it would appear that way when viewed in the context of modern parent-child relationships.
Finally, it's worth noting, I think, that Jane does NOT say something to the effect of "I'm sorry, I'll be good, may I please stay?" Mrs. Reed says quite plainly that when Jane is willing to speak pleasantly (by Victorian, not by modern, standards) she may join the family circle, which Jane herself says looks perfectly happy. Why doesn't Jane want to join this happy group? What makes her prefer to go off -- dare I say in a bit of a sulk? -- and be by herself? This, too, gives a clear suggestion of Jane's character, that she chose to be a bit of a loner and rebel, not to be the compliant, cooperative young girl that a Victorian girl was expected to be. No wonder Mrs. Reed, a single parent with four children to raise, found her a bit exasperating. That seems perfectly reasonable Victorian parenting to me.
Susan wrote: Although children do not have the capacity to sort out their emotions at the time they are experiencing them, Jane as an adult is able to see the situation from Mrs. Reed's perspective and begin to understand why she was treated this way. Knowing this, I think we can rely on Jane as a narrator. She is sorting through her memories with an adult mind.Yes, and there are other instances in the book of her correcting her memories, which is why I found her narration reliable, or at least trying to be reliable. If we encountered a real Jane telling her story I don't think that we would immediately think she was a liar, or misremembering, so at this stage I feel reassured by this adult correction of her adult memories.
One the question of Mrs Reed's treatment of Jane, I find it significant that in the Red Room Jane thinks that her uncle would have treated her more kindly - she sees him as a sort of saviour. This is perhaps evidence that Mrs Reed is less kind than some Victorian parents, for not all of them were monsters. Even though she has several children and is a young widow, she is wealthy and has servants to assist her. I brought up four children alone, without servants and on a comparatively low income for awhile, and managed not to treat them cruelly. My maternal grandmother brought up 13 children kindly, with little help from my drunken grandfather. Victorian life and literature is full of incidents of cruelty towards orphans and it may be that Bronte is hinting at this social ill. Jane was twice 'orphaned' first her parents died and then her guardian uncle - a sign of the high mortality rate at that time, another social ill.There is another reference in the description of the Red Room which bears pondering: '...Mrs. Reed herself, at far intervals, visited it to review the contents of a certain secret drawer in the wardrobe, where were stored divers parchments, her jewel-casket, and a miniature of her deceased husband; and in those last words lies the secret of the red-room--the spell which kept it so lonely in spite of its
grandeur.' I guess that the 'secret' is the copy of her deceased husband's will and that at some stage we may learn who that favours.
And still on Jane's ruminations about the Red Room, Lily asked who brought Jane up as an infant: 'In such vault I had been told did Mr. Reed lie buried; and led by this thought to recall his idea, I dwelt on it with gathering dread. I could not remember him; but I knew that he was my own uncle--my mother's brother--that he had taken me when a parentless infant to his house; and that in his last moments he had required a promise of Mrs. Reed that she would rear and maintain me as one of her own children.'
There is an underlying assumption behind my posts (and which will be behind my future posts) which I should probably make explicit.There are two (at least) ways of evaluating and judging the behaviors and actions of the characters in the book.
One is to judge them by contemporary standards; if a person n 2011 acted so-and-so way, what would we think of that?
The second is, as far as our understanding of the past allows, to judge them in terms of the standards in 1847, when the book was published. This is presumably how Charlotte expected her readers to view the book, since she would have no idea what standards would apply in 2011.
I think it's not unreasonable to read a book in the context of contemporary mores, to say, for example, that a certain treatment of a person is, by what we understand of human behavior today, inhumane, even though 1847 readers would have viewed it as normal and usual.
That, though, will not be my approach. As far as I am able, I intend to read the book through the lens of the original reader, to try to understand how they would have viewed the book and the events and behaviors described in it, to try the best I can to apply their moral expectations and standards, their views of childhood and the rights and expectations of children, and the like when trying to understand, evaluate, and judge the conduct of the characters.
This difference may explain some of the differences between various of us here see the book. I don't say that either one is "right" or "wrong," just that they are different, and that I feel the need to be clear about which course I intend to take.
In saying that I think certain conduct or behaviors were acceptable, in the context of the book then, I'm not saying that I would view them as acceptable today. I think, for example, considering Chapter 5, that a school which made children sleep two to a bed in a cold dormitory and given a meal of burned porridge would today be quite properly closed down in an instant by Child Protective Services. But at the same time, in 1847 it may well have been considered relative luxury for some children who, like the street sweeper Jo in Bleak House, would otherwise have found themselves in far more dismal conditions.
Susan wrote: "Although children do not have the capacity to sort out their emotions at the time they are experiencing them, Jane as an adult is able to see the situation from Mrs. Reed's perspective and begin to understand why she was treated this way. Knowing this, I think we can rely on Jane as a narrator. She is sorting through her memories with an adult mind. "That's a good point, though I think perhaps somewhat challenged by modern discoveries about memory. (I referenced the work of Elizabeth Loftus earlier.) In particular, if a person develops a false memory, the brain treats that in exactly the same way as it treats a true memory, so there is simply no ability in the person to know that it is a false memory and therefore no ability to correct it from an adult perspective.
But still, I take your point as one to keep in mind as we progress in the book. The exciting thing is how many different ways it is possible to look at a work of literature! (A great example being to look at a book with Marxist or feminist critical tools which the original author had no knowledge of or probably any conception would ever be used to critique their work.)
Post 85: First: she says "Mrs Reed" dined early, not auntie Reed or aunt whatever-her-first-name is, or even Mother, but the most formal address she could use.This was quite a usual old-fashioned form of address towards aunts, particularly aunts-in-law. I myself used it to my mother's sisters-in-law. My late husband also used it towards his elderly aunts in Trinidad.
but I think, given the context, that it is unlikely that she didn't know what she had done, since in that case she would be more likely to ask "what did I do wrong?" rather than "What does Bessie say I did?"
If Bessie habitually told tales about Jane to Mrs Reed, or was encouraged to do so, then this would be a natural enough question.
Why doesn't Jane want to join this happy group?
Because she preferred to read. Should that be construed as a crime for a child, even in a Victorian household? Why is reading in a corner and being happy doing so 'sulking'? It seems perfectly reasonable childhood behaviour especially if, as an orphan constantly being reminded of her status, she felt herself to be an 'outsider'. Sitting in a corner alone, reading has always been acceptable behaviour in my own extended family and I am sure it has been so for many children in the past. Not all of us are gregarious and some of us need solitude from time to time.
Yes, Jane is a loner and a bit of a rebel, that is what the book is about and what it was both derided and praised for. Had she conformed in the way that you suggest, we would surely be reading a different type of book. As Charlotte Bronte wrote the book, should we not be looking at it through her lens and trying to see what it is she wishes us to see about Jane, her other characters and Victorian society, the society which forced her to first publish the book as a man?
MadgeUK wrote: "And still on Jane's ruminations about the Red Room, Lily asked who brought Jane up as an infant: 'In such vault I had been told did Mr. Reed lie buried; and led by this thought to recall his idea, I dwelt on it with gathering dread. I could not remember him; but I knew that he was my own uncle--my mother's brother--that he had taken me when a parentless infant to his house; and that in his last moments he had required a promise of Mrs. Reed that she would rear and maintain me as one of her own children.'"But as a wealthy woman, I doubt that meant Mrs. Reed would necessarily have spent a lot of time herself with the infant. She may even have had a (wet) nurse for her own children.
Everyman wrote: "g...iven a meal of burned porridge would today be quite properly closed down in an instant by Child Protective Services. But at the same time, in 1847 it may well have been considered relative luxury for some children who, like the street sweeper Jo in Bleak House,..."Well, in this case, even in the text, the children are given bread and cheese!
"You had this morning a breakfast which you could not eat; you must be hungry:--I have ordered that a lunch of bread and cheese shall be served to all." (the superintendent of Lowood)
Earlier, we read: "...in passing the tables, I saw one teacher take a basin of the porridge and taste it; she looked at the others; all their countenances expressed displeasure, and one of them, the stout one, whispered - 'Abominable stuff! How shameful!'"
An interesting exercise that you undertake -- one I suspect we all balance to some extent when we encounter historical material. Glad you make your intended perspective explicit -- hopefully, such will clarify the discussions resulting.
I agree Lily, in all likelihood she would have had a wet nurse for the infants, even up to their sixth year. But doesn't this mean that with a wet nurse and at least two other servants, she wasn't necessarily a careworn widow? Would that I had had those luxuries! Imagine, a maid to do the washing and ironing - what bliss! :).Charlotte Bronte had a wet nurse too. Not sure about the others.
Mod
Uhh, read on, my friend, read on. I think you'll soon discover that it wasn't 'cricket' in 1847 either to run a school like that either--and it certainly wouldn't have been anything approaching luxurious. As ancillary evidence, I'd urge you to recall Dickens's Nicholas Nickleby as well.
Even though little Jane gets to Lowood in Chapter V, I would suggest that we wait until Part 2, next week, to really dive into the issues associated with the school. In retrospect, I sort of wished I'd ended the first week's portion as Jane prepares to leave Gateshead. Oh well. ;-)
Lowood of the abominable porridge is based upon the School for Clergyman's Daughters that Charlotte and her sisters went to - I have put a pic of it in the Background stuff. It was a pretty grim place where illnesses like TB, cholera and typhus were rife, and they were eventually removed from it during an outbreak of, I think, typhus. The older sisters Maria and Elizabeth, died after experiencing harsh conditions at the school. It would also seem likely that is where they caught the TB which eventually decimated their family:(. Reverend Brocklehurst is a portrait of William Carus Wilson, who managed the school in the Brontës' time. Women readers who had attended the school confirmed Charlotte's account, which again confirms the veracity of Jane's story.Lowood is another part of Jane's bildungsroman journey and a baptism by fire. Gilbert & Gubar comment that 'Jane Eyre's story, providing a pattern for countless others, is...a story of enclosure and escape, a distinctively female Bildungsroman in which the problems encountered by the protagonist as she struggles from the imprisonment of her childhood toward an almost unthinkable goal of mature freedom are symptomatic of difficulties Everywoman in a patriarchal society must meet and overcome: oppression, starvation, (view spoiler) and coldness.'
Christopher wrote: As ancillary evidence, I'd urge you to recall Dickens's Nicholas Nickleby as well.Yes, and like Bronte here, Dickens was writing to alert his readers to these terrible conditions, not to condone them or to say that they were normal.
MadgeUK wrote: "...But doesn't this mean that with a wet nurse and at least two other servants, she wasn't necessarily a careworn widow? ..."Agreed. This is a place where I find it almost impossible to "walk in her moccasins" -- the conditions she had to face are too different from my own experiences, real or virtual. I have to rather depend quite a bit upon our author. Was there a father or other extended family? Did she bring up her son as the surrogate "man of the house"? What kind of a man had Mr. Reed been -- kindly or simply a duty-bound brother? We do see a couple of outside figures in the apothecary and the doctor. They might have been at least somewhat stabilizing. Were there suitors? Some who wanted their hands on her wealth despite four children? Who handled her finances? These I cannot know/imagine without straying beyond the bonds of the text, except possibly the probable treatment of her son and that Mr. Reed was (likely) kindly.
I'm having a hard time commenting on this book since I've read it over so many times since childhood. I've always encountered Jane Eyre primarily as story, and that's making it harder to think about what it MEANS.A big part of me doesn't think it's supposed to MEAN anything- it's 'just' a Gothic novel, written for pleasure and meant to be read for pleasure, like a very well written romance novel.
At any rate I don't think Jane's meant as an unreliable narrator. She can be excessive and a little histrionic like all children- when you're that age, all sorts of things are THE END OF THE WORLD. That said, she was clearly treated miserably.
Most unreliable narrators I've found before in literature . . . the author makes it much clearer that they ARE unreliable! I'm thinking of Lolita- of course you know that Humbert Humbert is biased, and that comes through clearly in the text- unlike in JE.
My childhood wasn't NEARLY as miserable as Jane's, but it wasn't idyllic either, and I also escaped through books, so I loved reading about Jane when I was little. The Lowood chapters were always my favorite- I think I loved how atmospheric they were. I didn't enjoy the whole second half until MUCH later in life!
Lynnm wrote: "Georgie wrote: "There are certainly moments where Jane could be described as a proto-feminist (or indeed Bronte, which Woolf was very critical about) but Bronte only allows it to go so far - no hap..."Yes, Woolf was critical of the novel but it's when Jane is on the battlements, so I'll wait till we arrive there!
Getting back to the proto-feminist idea, which is what fascinates me the most about this novel, I think we can see three signs in the first chapters that Bronte may be heading in that direction:1. Jane is not the typical pretty little female. Bessie and the Abbot discuss the contrast between Jane and Georgiana at the end of Ch. 3: "..one can really not care for such a little toad as that."
2. We see quite a bit of rage from Jane from the very beginning which was thought to be very un-ladylike (or a sign of madness) at the time.
3. Jane is very headstrong and stands up for herself. She is not the typical meek and mild Victorian girl.
Bronte seems to want to break out of the typical feminine mold to show the alternative in a character such as Jane and her experiences in the world.
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Terrific, Deborah! This is precisely what we are looking for here--these connections with our own lives and life experiences. Please don't apologize for sharing the story of your life with us. That took courage, just as it took courage for little Jane to stand up to her beastly cousin and Aunt.
One thing that I've discovered about the Brontes is that they are--at least to me--what I would consider to be proto-feminists. I've read "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" (Anne), "Shirley" (Charlotte), "Villette" (Charlotte), and "Wuthering Heights" (Emily) and the theme of women who reach a point and then dig deep for strength and courage is there, and a very important element to the plot. Again, I have to wonder if Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792) wasn't something that all three women read and thought about at some length?