Charlotte Brontë
Jane Eyre (1847)

Note: I can’t bring myself to watch any of the films based on Jane Eyre, reading the novel was awful, I was torn between pulling my eyeballs out and going back in time to strangle Charlotte Brontë. So in place of my usual screenshots from the film(s), have a meme filled essay. Wuthering Heights was more fun - everybody dies.

There has always been an expectation placed upon me by society and family to contort myself into their idealised notion of womanhood. A good woman is one who is in control of their emotions. To be otherwise, is to be demonized as hysterical - a word here that is defined by the dictionary as an inability "to control your feelings or behaviour because you are extremely frightened, angry, excited, etc". A word that is constantly read with negative connotations. Emotions are ugly. Rationality is prized highly. Perhaps then, it explains my fixation on Bertha Mason from Jane Eyre, who seemed to relish in her emotional madness.

It saddens me to see that this novel is declared as a highly acclaimed romance classic – one that is constantly praised for being ahead of its times. Sure, we have to understand the context of time which it was written in - the Victorian era. Colonialism was at a high; race superiority was the unfortunate White Man's Burden. Mental asylums providing treatments, as well as a place to hide away embarrassing relatives or provide them with refuge increased (supposedly thanks to George III). However, this is no romance. This novel seems to serve more as a warning against excessive “female emotions” instead.

Image Source. Mary Poppins has absolutely no relevance to this writing, but her eye roll is tdf and highly appropriate.

When introduced to our titular protagonist, Jane Eyre, she is highly emotional - a trait that was often rebuked by the people around her. We join her in her autobiographical Bildungsroman as she grows tame, into an idealised woman of the Victorian times. Only when subdued, can she be a part of the Victorian narrative to tame and guide Man's passions. Only when rational, does she have her happy ending with Rochester, as it is her duty as a woman to guide Man onto the right path.

Orphaned and abused by her extended family, Jane Eyre plays draws our sympathy when we see how she is unable to fit in due to the strict Victorian class structures.

“I was a discord in Gateshead Hall; I was like nobody there; I had nothing in harmony with Mrs. Reed or her children, or her chosen vassalage… I know that had I been a sanguine, brilliant, careless, exacting, handsome, romping child—though equally depend ent and friendless—Mrs. Reed would have endured my presence more complacently; her children would have entertained for me more of the cordiality of fellow-feeling; the servants would have been less prone to make me the scapegoat of the nursery.”

— Jane Eyre to reader, Chapter Two

Thinking that she would finally be free of her abusers, she is sent away to a boarding school, where Eyre is further humiliated by the institution. Her growth from child to teen hood is marked by the inability to learn of her own identity due to her need to survive. In the harsh structure of Victorian times, that meant Eyre had to be inconspicuous, genteel and above all, in control of her emotions.

At 18, she meets Edward Rochester, who was approximately 35 years old, the wealthy owner of Thornfield Hall. Starved for affection, I can empathise how blown away Eyre must have been; this man who would give her the recognition she had long sought for, but only when he deigns to do so and solely for his own gain.

“I had determined, and was convinced that I could and ought. It was not my original intention to deceive, as I have deceived you. I meant to tell my tale plainly, and make my proposals openly: and it appeared to me so absolutely rational that I should be considered free to love and be loved, I never doubted some woman might be found willing and able to understand my case and accept me, in spite of the curse with which I was burdened.”

— Edward Rochester to Jane Eyre, Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Provided with plenty of money and the passport of an old name, I could choose my own society: no circles were closed against me. I sought my ideal of a woman amongst English ladies, French countesses, Italian signoras, and German gràfinnen. I could not find her. Sometimes, for a fleeting moment, I thought I caught a glance, heard a tone, beheld a form, which announced the realisation of my dream: but I was presently undeceived. You are not to suppose that I desired perfection either of mind or person. I longed only for what suited me—for the antipodes of the Creole: and I longed vainly.”

— Edward Rochester to Jane Eyre, Chapter Twenty-Seven

Having never learnt what healthy relationships would be like, it is unsurprising that, when made jealous and told that it was what passionate love is like, Eyre would believe Rochester.

“Well, 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.”

— Edward Rochester to Jane Eyre, Chapter Twenty-Four

After all, this man was almost two decades older than she was, and had travelled widely, had connections with the nobility, who were at that time, the authority on social norms and structures. Not only was Rochester offering Eyre love she had long sought, but also the only acceptable way out to freedom in the Victorian times - marriage. This relationship between Jane Eyre and Edward Rochester is one of power imbalances, grooming and emotional abuse.

“I affirm and can prove that on the 20th October, A.D. – (a date fifteen years back), Edward Fairfax Rochester, of Thornfield Hall, in the county of -, and of Ferndean Manor, in -shire, England, was married to my sister, Bertha Antoinetta Mason, daughter of Jonas Mason, merchant, and of Antoinetta his wife, a Creole -at-church, Spanish Town Jamaica. The record of the marriage will be found in the register of that church – a copy of it is now in my possession. Signed, Richard Mason.”

— Mr. Briggs to Edward Rochester, Chapter Twenty-Six

It is here that we finally meet Bertha Mason. It is not quite clear at first who she was, with her presence through the strange occurrences in Thornfield Hall dismissed by Rochester as caused by one of his staff, Grace Poole, instead. It is only during the wedding ceremony between Rochester and Eyre, that the truth emerges: Rochester had already been, and still was married, to Bertha Mason, a wealthy lady of Creole heritage.

I can't begin to imagine how deeply distressing it must have been growing up for Bertha. Creoles are born of mixed heritage, from white European settlers and West Africans. Thanks to this, Creoles are often left feeling non-belonging. To their White European superiors, they were seen as more worthy than the African slaves, but not as equals due to their mixed heritage. Among their African contemporaries, they were seen as traitors for owning African slaves and assimilating into the white European society. To be half Creole, and half White, Berth must have struggled with her own identity of culture and heritage.

It is also through the eyes of both Eyre and Rochester that we learn who Bertha Mason was. In the entire novel, Bertha was only heard through her maniacal laughter or guttural growling. She never spoke for herself, even when we meet her in person. Rochester immediately declared her insane; he blamed her heritage for her insanity.

“Bertha Mason is mad; and she came of a mad family – idiots and maniacs through three generations! Her mother, the Creole, was both a mad woman 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.”

— Edward Rochester to wedding guests, Chapter Twenty-Six

With the Creoles reluctantly accepted by high society, I wonder if Bertha’s mother was truly mad, or driven to excessive drinking due to the mockery she faced in high society. And through her excessive drinking, slowly regressed into madness, and eventually locked up away, out of sight, out of mind. I wonder if Bertha’s mother’s madness was her way of escaping a reality that had no place for her.

“My bride’s mother I had never seen: I understood she was dead. The honeymoon over, I learned my mistake; she was only mad, and shut up in a lunatic asylum.”

— Edward Rochester to Jane Eyre, Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bertha, herself, was blamed by Rochester for his own predicament. As though he had no agency of his own, he accused his father and elder brother of selling him out in marriage to Bertha for thirty thousand pounds. He criticised society for pushing him into marriage.

“All the men in her circle seemed to admire her and envy me. I was dazzled, stimulated: my senses were excited; and being ignorant, raw, and inexperienced, I thought I loved her. There is no folly so besotted that the idiotic rivalries of society, the prurience, the rashness, the blindness of youth, will not hurry a man to its commission. Her relatives encouraged me; competitors piqued me; she allured me: a marriage was achieved almost before I knew where I was.”

— Edward Rochester to Jane Eyre, Chapter Twenty-Seven

An unwanted daughter, now an unwanted wife. When we talk of domestic violence, we envision ferocious screaming, physical violence where one party is battered, bruised and cowed. We don’t talk about soft violence. Cold shoulders, dismissive condescension, open mockery causes a person to doubt themselves increasingly, until they no longer have any recollection of themselves. Perhaps to me, the most terrifying on would be in intimate relations, for a partner to feel as though they are unable to satisfy and have it flung in their faces.

“What a pigmy intellect she had—and what giant propensities! How fearful were the curses those propensities entailed on me! Bertha Mason,—the true daughter of an infamous mother,— dragged me through all the hideous and degrading agonies which must attend a man bound to a wife at once intemperate and unchaste.”

— Edward Rochester to Jane Eyre, Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the most cruel of actions, as she was trying to cope what must have been a jarring change (the most lauded debutante into an embarrassing wife). Rochester removed Bertha from everything she was familiar with and brought her to England, where he locked her up for ten years.

““Go,” said Hope, “and live again in Europe: there it is not known what a sullied name you bear, nor what a filthy burden is bound to you. You may take the maniac with you to England; confine her with due attendance and precautions at Thornfield: then travel yourself to what clime you will, and form what new tie you like....Let her identity, her connection with yourself, be buried in oblivion: you are bound to impart them to no living being. Place her in safety and comfort: shelter her degradation with secrecy, and leave her.””

— Edward Rochester to Jane Eyre, Chapter Twenty-Seven

It was a betrayal. Rochester was someone Bertha was supposed to be able to trust – a husband – and she was treated with such cruelty. To have his partners flaunted openly in her face, would have broken any last remains of her sanity that already had been fractured by her confinement and isolation. Yet, in her insanity, Bertha kept demanding acknowledgement and reparation for the violences committed against her, in the only way she knew how – physical violence.

“The lunatic is both cunning and malignant; she has never failed to take advantage of her guardian’s temporary lapses; once to secrete the knife with which she stabbed her brother, and twice to possess herself of the key of her cell, and issue therefrom in the night-time. On the first of these occasions she per petrated the attempt to burn me in my bed; on the second she paid that ghastly visit to you. I thank Providence, who watched over you, that she then spent her fury on your wedding apparel; which perhaps brought back vague reminiscences of her own bridal days; but on what might have happened I cannot endure to reflect. When I think of the thing which flew at my throat this morning hanging its black and scar
let visage over the nest of my dove my blood curdles.”

— Edward Rochester to Jane Eyre, Chapter Twenty-Seven

We see the further vilification of Bertha through her race in Eyre's description of Bertha. Comparing her to "the foul German spectre - the Vampyre", Eyre goes into detail of Bertha's appearance as she sets Bertha apart from her, rejecting her as a human, as much as she was under the misconception of being haunted.

“It seemed, sir, a woman, tall and large, with thick and dark hair hanging long down her back. I know not what dress she had on: it was white and straight; but whether gown, sheet, or shroud, I cannot tell... Fearful and ghastly to me—oh, sir, I never saw a face like it! It was a discoloured face—it was a savage face. I wish I could forget the roll of the red eyes and the fearful blackened inflation of the lineaments... This, sir, was purple: the lips were swelled and dark; the brow fur rowed; the black eyebrows widely raised over the bloodshot eyes.”

— Jane Eyre to Edward Rochester, Chapter Twenty-Five

“Jane, my little darling (so I will call you, for so you are), you don’t know what you are talking about; you misjudge me again: it is not because she is mad I hate her. If you were mad, do you think I should hate you?”

— Edward Rochester to Jane Eyre, Chapter Twenty-Seven

This Othering of Bertha became the reason for her madness. It gave reason to treat her as ‘less’. It is easy for me to believe then, if the environment Bertha is in had refused her space, she would make space for herself through her madness. Her madness is a powerful tool, enabling her to act upon her most violent desires with almost no repercussions. What more can she fear? Her freedom had been taken from her, she was kept in isolation for ten years, treated with contempt. Through her madness, we see that Bertha is feared. Feared by Rochester, the very person who abused and tortured her to no end. This is a power that would not have been accessible to Bertha, had she not been declared insane. You must understand, Bertha was not demonised for her madness, she had always been demonised for her race.

Bertha knew that she was despised for her race - an identity she had no decision over, a ‘flaw’ that reduced her to less than a human, less than a person.

“Her family wished to secure me, because I was of a good race; and so did she.”

— Edward Rochester to Jane Eyre, Chapter Twenty-Five

With her agency constantly removed from her, fought back, empowered by her madness. At the end, Bertha escapes through death, by jumping off the roof of Thornfield Hall after setting it on fire. Preferably, I believe, many of us would appreciate avoiding such a drastic means of escape, but, perchance , can take notes on Bertha’s use of madness to empower herself. To quote another female author ahead of her times:

“...if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear...”

— The creature to Victor Frankenstein, Chapter Seventeen, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

While I can only sympathise with Bertha on being Othered due to her race, I can appreciate her actions born of her madness. It kept people away from out due to their own fear. As much as, I don’t believe I could have such violent tendencies of pyromania, maybe, just like Bertha, I would like to relish in my own madness. To use my madness as both a protective shield and a means of defence as I chart my own delirious course. Perhaps through my madness, I can be a little braver for my sake, and a little kinder to myself. Then, possibly, instead of rejecting and demonising my madness, I could learn to appreciate it and come to love the broken, mad parts of myself.

Additional readings:

Brontë Charlotte, and Richard J. Dunn. Jane Eyre: an Authoritative Text, Contexts, Criticism. Norton, 2001.
Cook, Matt, et al. Wrongful Confinement. Apr. 2003. Accessed 31 Aug. 2020.
Gilbert, Sandra M., and Susan Gubar. THE MADWOMAN IN THE ATTIC: THE WOMAN WRITER AND THE NINETEENTH-CENTURY LITERARY IMAGINATION. YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS, 1980.
Greig, Astrea. “Understanding the Stressors and Types of Discrimination That Can Affect Multiracial Individuals.” Society for the Advancement of Psychotherapy, Psychotherapy Bulletin, 50(2), 56-60, 2015. Accessed 1 Sept. 2020.
History.com, Editors. “Victorian Era Timeline.” History.com, A&E Television Networks, 15 Mar. 2019. Accessed 1 Sept. 2020.
Jane, Caecilia. “Creole Women in the British Imagination.” A Historical Miscellany, 28 Oct. 2019. Accessed 1 Sept. 2020.
Little , Julianna. “‘Frailty, Thy Name Is Woman , Thy Name Is Woman’: Depictions of Female Madness .” VCU Scholars Compass, Virginia Commonwealth University , 2015. Accessed 4 Sept 2020.
Machayya, Roshan. “Bertha Mason and Mental Illnesses- A Victorian Context with a Special Reference to Huntington’s Disease || A Look into Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë” Medium, Medium, 25 Jan. 2019. Accessed 1 Sept. 2020.
Nelson, Jessica. “‘Good Education, Good Position, and Good Blood’: Creole Women's Literature of the Nineteenth-Century British West Indies.” Northeastern University, 2015. Accessed 3 Sept. 2020.
Rhys, Jean, and Andrea Ashworth. Wide Sargasso Sea. Penguin Books, 2000.
The, Atlantic. “How Victorian Women Were Oppressed Through the Use of Psychiatry.” The Atlantic, Atlantic Media Company, 2017. Accessed 1 Sept. 2020.
Wise, Sarah. Inconvenient People: Lunacy, Liberty and the Mad-Doctors in Victorian England. Bodley Head, 2012.
Zoltan, Vanessa. “Bertha Mason Is Sacred.” Harvard Divinity Bulletin, 2016. Accessed 3 Sept. 2020.