Catherine Fry
 

Jane Eyre and Bertha Mason are both oppressed by the British patriarchal system were men are the makers, interpreters, and enforcers of social and political rules. However, these two women differ greatly in the ways that they accept and cope with the reality of their place in society, and it is these differences that ultimately determine their fate. Jane Eyre follows the rules. Although she initially revolts against what she believes to be unfair restrictions at Gateshead and Lowood, she soon discovers that rebellion carries a high price and, over time, she learns to modify her behavior to conform to socially accepted norms. Bertha Mason, on the other hand, never accedes to society's restrictions on women's behavior. Bertha blatantly breaks all of the rules at Spanish Town and at Thornfield, but when Rochester punishes her for her unacceptable behavior, she only becomes less restrained. As Wyatt notes, the novel's "doubling of the female self into the good girl Jane and the criminally passionate Bertha reflect [sic] the experiences and corresponding psychic patterns of women living under patriarchy," and true to their individual responses to patriarchal control, "Jane reasons out the causes and effects of women's domestic oppression, [but] Bertha burns down the imprisoning house" (199-200). Jane, therefore, is successful in securing her desired place in society because she ultimately learns the value of conforming to the rules and operating within the context of their established structure. Bertha does not conform and therefore does not survive.

On the surface, two more opposite female characters could not be conceived. As an adult, Jane is a "plain, Quakerish governess," a "quiet...disciplined and subdued character" who is "given in allegiance to duty and order" (246; ch. 24, 76; ch. 10). By contrast, Bertha is "a big woman, in stature almost equaling her husband, and corpulent besides" with a "virile force" and "purple...bloated features" (279; ch. 26). Jane is an impoverished orphan, and an English clergyman's daughter who is reared in a charity school; Bertha is an exotic Creole, and the pampered daughter of a wealthy Jamaican planter. Jane is modest, decorous, and virginal; Bertha is "'at once intemperate and unchaste'" (291; ch. 27). Edward Fairfax Rochester, husband to each, cannot imagine two women less alike. However, it is not these obvious physical, behavioral, class, and socioeconomic differences that are important when comparing the two. Rather, it is the difference in the way they accept their roles as women in a patriarchal society that defines the characters and determines the outcome of the story.

Bertha and Jane have no choice but to live within the male-dominated society into which they were born. Accordingly, their only feasible survival options involve "attaching themselves to . . . powerful or economically viable men" in one-way or another (Rich 143). However, in neither woman's case do the attachments provide a framework for independence, self-expression, or variation from society's rigid expectations, because "the asymmetrical power structures of the patriarchal family . . . have severely limited female development" (Wyatt 201). Intolerable oppression and injustice bring about significant female rebellion, which inevitably ends in frustration and depression. Unfortunately, this depression is not the only consequence of rebelling against social norms; in a patriarchal system, there is inevitably swift and harsh punishment of the individual by the establishment. Men are the ruling gender, both politically and domestically, and patriarchal authority reserves the right "both to define female propriety and to punish infractions of it" (Wyatt 208). In different ways, Jane and Bertha each attempt to devise a socially acceptable plan to function within the patriarchal structure while still retaining a sense of individuality. This proves to be very difficult, and both women are judged and punished severely when they do not conform to society's expectations.

Jane is bound to "powerful or economically viable men" several times in the novel: Uncle Reed (and, later, Aunt Reed and cousin John), Mr. Brocklehurst, Rochester, and St. John Rivers. But while each of these attachments is supposedly necessary for Jane's welfare, in reality they are severely oppressive. At Gateshead, she is taken in as an orphaned infant by her mother's brother. After he dies, Jane remains with his family but is unloved and unwanted. Mrs. Reed and her children consider Jane "naughty and tiresome, sullen and sneaking" (9; ch. 2), and even the servants refer to her as "a little toad" (19; ch. 3). But even worse, Jane is a dependent, something "less than a servant" because she is a drain on the family resources (6; ch. 1). She is resented and persecuted by her wealthy relations, who arbitrarily make and enforce unjust rules that Jane has little choice but to obey.

By the time she is nine years old, however, Jane builds up enough resentment of this injustice to rebel against it. She becomes a "picture of passion" when she retaliates against John Reed's cruelty by flying at him "like a mad cat" and as a result is locked away alone in a remote upstairs chamber (5, 6; ch. 2). Jane's mental and emotional exhaustion after this incident, and her subsequent escape and suicide fantasies, are evidence of her realization that she has neither control over her life nor opportunity to defend herself: "Speak I must: I had been trodden on severely, and must turn" (29; ch. 4). As Rich points out, "Her ensuing illness, like much female illness, is an acting-out of her powerlessness...and a psychic crisis induced by these conditions" (145). For Jane, this behavior is clearly desperate. Mrs. Reed (who, interestingly, is a female symbol of the injustice and oppression of patriarchy) cannot comprehend why Jane "for nine years . . . could be patient and quiescent under any treatment, and in the tenth break out all fire and violence" (227; ch. 21). The fact that Jane resorts to such extreme measures is evidence of the intolerable frustration she suffers due to her family's harsh treatment.

Jane, however, soon recovers sufficiently from her spell "to burst her bonds again and again to tell Mrs. Reed what she thinks of her, an extraordinarily self-assertive act of which neither a Victorian child nor a Cinderella was ever supposed to be capable" (Gilbert 160). But despite her initial sense of satisfaction when her outburst to Mrs. Reed causes her "soul . . . to expand, to exult, with the strangest sense of freedom, of triumph," Jane almost immediately finds that her pleasure is dampened by a "pang of remorse and the chill of reaction" (30; ch. 4). As Rich explains, "This outburst, much like the anger of the powerless, leaves Jane only briefly elated. The depressive, self-punishing reaction sets in" (145). Indeed, Jane's rebellion brings about neither justice nor understanding, but only a change in the cast of oppressors when the Reeds are replaced with Mr. Brocklehurst and the hardships of Lowood school. As Wyatt states, "Whenever Jane claims the right to her own identity, the patriarchy inevitably puts her in her place" (206). Influenced by the example of Helen Burns and Miss Temple, Jane eventually becomes socialized by the merciless enforcement of Lowood's strict and harsh rules and learns the folly of rebelling against them. So, even though suppressing her passionate nature goes against the "real" Jane's personality, she is able to accept the status quo with gradually decreasing resistance. Over time, she develops "a female sense that love must be purchased through suffering and self-sacrifice; the images that come to her are images of willing submission to violence, of masochism" (Rich 146). The budding individuality that Jane exhibits at Gateshead is severely restricted during her years at Lowood; she eventually internalizes the importance of conforming to social norms. By the time she becomes a teacher at Lowood, Jane no longer needs to be externally controlled by society. Later, Jane learns that Rochester cannot marry her because he already has a wife, but even though she desperately wants to cling to him, she still holds to her ethical code:

Laws and principles are not for times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour. . . . Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations are all I have at this hour to stand by; there I plant my foot. (301; ch. 27)

But even after she learns the value of conformity, Jane continues to experience the oppression of patriarchy. When she obtains her post as governess at Thornfield, she initially enjoys relative liberty. She is earning more money than she did at Lowood; she has a companion in Mrs. Fairfax; and she has only a single pupil with whom she must contend. Rochester frees Jane from the traditional class conventionalities because he relates to her as a relative social equal. Soon Jane's comfortable life at Thornfield begins to change, however. As Rochester's feelings for her increase, so do his efforts to manipulate and control her. He tries to make Jane jealous by suggesting that he is going to marry Blanche Ingram, whom he describes as "'A strapper--a real strapper, Jane: big, brown, and buxom,'" evidently pointing out the fact that Miss Ingram is everything that the small, self-conscious Jane is not (207; ch. 20). After Rochester succeeds in obtaining Jane's promise to marry him, he admits that he used Blanche to get Jane's attention: "'I feigned courtship of Miss Ingram, because I wished to render you as madly in love with me as I was with you; and I knew jealousy would be the best ally I could call in for the furtherance of that end'" (249; ch. 24). As Gilbert points out, "Rochester, having secured Jane's love, almost reflexively begins to treat her as an inferior, a plaything, a virginal possession" (168). Jane perceives this difference in him and reacts to it, although she doesn't seem to understand quite clearly the nature of the change that has taken place. She keeps him at arm's length because "she senses, even the equality of love between true minds leads to the minor despotisms of marriage . . . Rochester's loving tyranny recalls John Reed's unloving despotism, and the erratic nature of his favors recalls Brocklehurst's hypocrisy" (Gilbert 169). Although Jane loves Rochester intensely, she fears and distrusts his dominating tendencies and uses what power she has to try to revive a semblance of the previous equality between them.

Rochester's efforts to dominate Jane, and to prohibit and/or promote the behaviors he seeks, become proportionately less effective as the amount of force he employs increases. Ironically, his most intense attempt to control Jane--his insistence that she run away with him to the south of France--makes her realize that he is leaving her no choice but to escape from him. She senses that, if she stays at Thornfield, Rochester will continue to press her to enter into an illicit sexual relationship with him, something she cannot accept. He pleads, "Give one glance to my horrible life when you are gone. All happiness will be torn away with you....Is it better to drive a fellow-creature to despair than to transgress a mere human law, no man being injured by the breach?" (301; ch. 27).

Because she loves him so, Jane fears that Rochester may succeed in wearing away her resolve. Relenting to his request would, of course, fly in the face of her principles, and so she flees Thornfield in a panic. Jane would far rather give up her chance for happiness than do anything that would compromise her conformity to social custom. She is convinced that maintaining a strict adherence to the rules will, in the end, help her to achieve what she wants, even if that turns out to be simply social acceptance and her own self-respect.

Unlike Jane, Bertha Mason is interested in neither social acceptance nor self-respect. According to Rochester's narrative, Bertha's childhood experiences, which are very different from Jane's, have not prepared her to function within the patriarchal framework of polite society. Bertha is not taught, at a young age, that noncompliance to social rules carries with it the certainty of merciless judgment and swift punishment, and consequently, she never learns the value of conforming to the expectations of others. As a child, Bertha is brought up in an atmosphere of tropical sensuality and extravagance, delighting in the luxuries provided by her wealthy family. But the innocent desires of her languid, pampered childhood begin to transform, by adulthood, into sensual appetites that are not so easily accepted or tolerated in a woman, especially one of her status. Bertha's father fears that his daughter is beginning to show the socially inappropriate tendencies exhibited by her mother (who was "'shut up in a lunatic asylum'" [291; ch. 27]), and conspires to marry her off as quickly as possible. The affluent Mason family consider Rochester the perfect match for Bertha because he has impressive social credentials but no fortune. Rochester's father and brother are eager to arrange the match, thus providing for him without having to divide the family estate.

Rochester is "ignorant, raw, and inexperienced" and is "dazzled" by the beautiful Bertha, who is admired by "'All the men in her circle'" (290; ch. 27). But after their whirlwind courtship and hasty marriage, Rochester realizes he "'never loved...never esteemed...[nor] even [knew] her'" and that he was "'not sure of the existence of one virtue in her nature...neither modesty nor benevolence, nor candour, nor refinement in her mind or manners'" (290; ch. 27). He finds her nature "totally alien" to his, "'her cast of mind common, low, narrow, and singularly incapable of being led to anything higher, expanded to anything larger'" (291; ch. 27). Rochester criticizes Bertha's behavior in the context of morality and intellect, but his diagnosis of madness is rather arbitrary. Bertha's behavior tends to be more demanding and self-indulgent than insane: "no servant would bear the continued outbreaks of her violent and unreasonable temper, or the vexations of her absurd, contradictory, exacting orders" (291; ch. 27). Nevertheless, it becomes clear that Bertha has neither the intention nor the desire to operate within the structure of traditional marriage or conform to the expectations of her husband or society.

Despite his shock and dismay at discovering that his wife is not what he expected, Rochester is fully aware that he is irrevocably bound to Bertha by marriage, and he initially tries to abide by the vows that connect them. Bertha's "giant propensities" and "'vices [which] sprang up fast and rank'" repulse her husband, however: Rochester considers Bertha's lusty sexual appetites inappropriate and deviant even within the framework of marriage (291; ch. 27). It is Rochester's abhorrence of Bertha that ultimately leads to his decision to confine her. At Spanish Town, Bertha is examined by doctors, "'pronounced...mad [and is], of course . . . shut up'" (292; ch. 27). After Rochester transports his wife to Thornfield, he sees that she is "'safely lodged in that third-story room, of whose secret inner cabinet she has now for ten years made a wild beast's den--a goblin's cell'" (294; ch. 27). As a member of the patriarchy, Rochester has the unquestioned power and authority to judge and punish Bertha. He imposes a life sentence of imprisonment for her "crimes" of unladylike, aggressive sexuality and refusal to conform to patriarchal expectations of female modesty and self-sacrifice.

Even after she is imprisoned at Thornfield, Bertha continues to rebel against Rochester's control, and the "lunatic" succeeds several times in breaking free of her third-floor cell during the short time Jane resides there. Jane becomes aware of Bertha before she actually sees her: she hears "vague murmur[ing]," the sound of "fingers... [sweeping] the panels" of her bedroom door, and, on several occasions, a "demoniac laugh(low, suppressed, and deep" (138; ch. 15). When Bertha attacks Mason, Jane is terrified by "a savage, a sharp, a shrilly sound," a "savage shriek" which is followed by sounds of a struggle in the room above hers. Although she does not understand yet who Bertha is, Jane beholds her for the first time on the night before she--Jane--is to marry Rochester. She describes Bertha as "a woman, tall and large, with thick and dark hair hanging long down her back" who possessed a "fearful and ghastly...discoloured face," "red eyes and...fearful blacked inflation of the lineaments," and "lips . . . swelled and dark." She looks to Jane like "the foul German spectre, the vampire" (269-70; ch. 25). After the aborted wedding, when Rochester, Mason, Briggs, Wood, and Jane visit Bertha in her cell, Jane is shocked and horrified by a figure [who] ran backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight tell: it groveled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face. . . . [T]he lunatic sprang and grappled [Rochester's] throat viciously, and laid her teeth to his cheek" (278-79; ch. 27).

This description of Bertha and her behavior is very different from Rochester's initial impression. He later tells Jane that when he first met Bertha, she was "a fine woman, in the style of Blanche Ingram: tall, dark, and majestic," the "boast of Spanish Town for her beauty" who "flattered" him and "lavishly displayed . . . her charms and accomplishments" (290; ch. 27). It is apparent that Bertha, before her marriage to Rochester, is an impressive and enchanting woman who is fully capable of functioning within polite society. But during the time that they live together as husband and wife, Rochester attempts to control Bertha's behavior by imposing patriarchal expectations and restrictions, with ever-increasing insistence on her compliance. Bertha does not comply, however; instead, she rebels even further against her husband's dictates. Rochester is humiliated, feeling that he is "covered with grimy dishonour" due to "the contamination of her crimes," and so he avoids her completely, attempting to "wrench [himself] from her mental defects" (292; ch. 27). Rochester gives Bertha four years to learn the value of conforming to patriarchal rules, but she does not do so. Because he cannot abide her self-indulgent and uncontrollable behavior, Rochester decides that Bertha has become insane, "the true daughter of an infamous mother" who must be hidden away in shame (291; ch. 27). Therefore, she is locked away permanently, rebellious to the end against society's oppressive standards for acceptable female behavior.

Although Bertha's conduct is clearly inappropriate according to the norms of nineteenth century middle-class society, it cannot be definitively diagnosed as mental illness. Rochester speaks of Bertha's symptoms in purely personal and social terms: she is not "refined" enough for him; she has a "common, low, narrow" cast of mind; she has "vices." He admits that, even after being locked away for ten years, "'she had lucid intervals of days--sometimes weeks'" (294; ch. 27). According to the beliefs of Victorian psychology, "women were biologically defined as creatures of excess, throbbing with reproductive energy which had to be sluiced away each month, and yet could not be dammed up or controlled without real threat to the balance of the psyche" (Shuttleworth 151). This observation bears a remarkable resemblance to Rochester's description of Bertha. Although her sexual excesses are (according to the mental health experts of Bronte's day) intrinsic to her femininity, they are socially embarrassing to her husband and therefore must be controlled (first by disapproval and withdrawal of affection, and later by confinement). The exercise of control, in turn, causes an imbalance in the psyche and exacerbates the symptoms. Given this understanding, it seems probable that Bertha's "madness" is a condition brought about not by a congenital defect, as Rochester believes, but by rebellion against patriarchal control.

Rochester's increased diligence in confining Bertha to her third-floor cell ultimately becomes the motivation for her final escape, which results in the destruction of Thornfield Hall, Rochester's maiming, and her own death. The fact that Bertha commits suicide while attempting a last stand against Rochester's tyranny is appropriate: "'we heard him call "Bertha!" We saw him approach her; and then, ma'am, she yelled and gave a spring, and the next minute she lay smashed on the pavement'" (410; ch. 36). Even in death, Bertha Mason refuses to be controlled by her husband or to comply with society's mandates about proper female behavior.

It is Bertha's final rebellion that not only frees Rochester to marry Jane, but also frees Jane to marry Rochester. While Bertha is alive, Jane's internalized conformity to patriarchal rules prohibits her from deviating from social conventions and living with Rochester as his mistress, even though she loves him and is unhappy without him. After Jane learns of Bertha's death, however, she rushes to Rochester's side. But now it is Rochester who is hesitant about matrimony: even though he is no longer prevented from marrying Jane by the existence of a living wife, he is not sure that he will be a fitting partner because he is now merely "'A poor blind man, whom [Jane] will have to lead about by the hand. . . . A crippled man, twenty years older...whom [she] will have to wait on'" (426; ch. 37). Jane is not worried about Rochester's disabilities; she welcomes the opportunity to serve her "master."

What she is concerned about, however, is how to get Rochester to propose. Ironically, Jane's conformance to social custom works against her during the final engagement scene. Even when she senses that her heart's desire is within reach, her early training in female propriety makes her reluctant to ask Rochester to marry her. Flustered, Jane hesitates; she "could not tell what...word to employ" (426; ch. 37). Instead of speaking plainly, she attempts to steer Rochester in the direction she wants him to go by suggesting that he "'Choose [as a wife]--her who loves you best.'" He then promptly replies, "'I will at least choose--her I love best. Jane, will you marry me?'" Jane, of course, eagerly responds, "'Yes, sir'" (426; ch. 37). Once again, Jane's principles remain uncompromised, but this time she is able to get exactly what she wants.

Even though Jane must care for Rochester constantly ("for I was then his vision, as I am still his right hand" [432; ch. 38]), she is happy to do so because she knows she can give her love to him with a clear conscience. Jane successfully uses her conformity to the constructs of patriarchy not only to establish social acceptance and maintain her own self-respect, but her insistence on strict compliance with society's rules for women also makes it possible for her to achieve her most cherished desires and goals: to be the legal, legitimate wife of Edward Rochester and the mother of his children.

• Woman as Angel
  
• Woman as Demon
  
• Fire