WHAT JANE EYRE TAUGHT: THE "AUTOBIOGRAPHER" IN JANE EYRE AND WOMEN'S EDUCATION

Abstract

Jane's behavior doesn't cover independence-related expectancies of progressive critics, who notice that, in fact, Jane only needs "so small an independency", as she puts it in Chapter XXIV, i.e. enough money to provide for her family and to offer Rochester a noticeable pecuniary gift. [...]even the humble characters like Bessie also trod the infinite number of paths that lead to Heaven in Jane Eyre. [...]of the story, when Jane's soul attains maturity, education is not absent but, on the contrary omnipresent. With all the social limitations that she accepted within her text, out of conviction or fear, and with all the limitations that she wasn't even aware of, Charlotte made Jane, the disempowered Governess, leave a fictional school room and take over the real world.

Headnote

Abstract: This article looks at Charlotte Bronte's novel "Jane Eyre" in search of the embedded mechanisms that make changes regarding women's role in society> and their proper education emerge as logical necessities, even though, apparently, no character in this novel is a consequent supporter of change, not even Jane. Some characters advocate women s education in order to better cope with the vicissitudes on a Christian moral level, while revealing themselves as abusers. Young Jane gets to depend on such people several times, and barely survives. Critics notice the distance between young Jane's words, advocating the need for change, and mature Jane's apparent abandonment of the cause for an idyllic domestic life. But the "autobiographic " formula points at different conclusions and those conclusions surpass what the characters have to say.

Keywords: authorship, Bildungsroman, self-expression, Victorian, Vocation, women s education

1. Introduction: The Ultimate Focal Point

Though explained in different ways, the improbable marriage between young Jane Eyre, governess, and Master Edward Fairfax Rochester (Godfrey 2005:853) is most often perceived as the focal point of the novel. Yet, the novel Jane Eyre is subtitled: An Autobiography. The novel's complete title is neither *Jane Eyre. The Stoiy of an Improbable Marriage - a substantial hint at sentimental/domestic entertainment, nor *Jane Eyre. The Story of a Governess - a common solution of the time for writings ranging from didacticist to sentimental (Beaty 1996:17-20).

The distance between Jane Eyre's (improbable) marriage and the subtitle of the novel makes up the space of our inquiry: could this act of union have been imagined so that something else, more important, would become possible, in its turn? By "something more important" we don't mean an ultimate goal. The ultimate goal of Jane Eyre the character comes by default: we are not hinting at the salvation of the soul. We are rather looking after/beyond the improbable marriage, for one or more final steps of the earthly ladder, within Charlotte Bronte's novel. We search for evidence that, improbable or not, Jane's marriage is neither the last focal point in the novel, nor the most important. Mature Jane's relationship with the status quo consists of more than a successful marriage and motherhood. To the end of the book, Jane has become an authoress. We see this text as a text about self-empowerment, where Education plays an unconventional, yet important role.

Most critics and teachers agree that Jane Eyre is one of the first Bildungsromans in literature. Still, it is often treated like a sentimental novel, spiced up with some sophisticated stories. The sentimental plot takes up quite some space, and is fast to attract attention; but focusing on it excessively may have readers neglect facts unrelated or less related to the love plot directly.

2. The Rivers episode

Of all characters undermined by conventions (like the well-to-do ladies, the first set of cousins, and St. John Rivers) that the novel displays, the cameo apparition of Uncle Eyre, with his testament-letter, is probably the most frustrating. The letter's lack of credibility made some think it shouldn't even be there. At this point, we favor a reconstructive reading, giving credit to all the elements introduced by the author in the game of interpretations. We see the uncle as an underdeveloped character that has his assigned role in the overall structure of the novel, and not as text in excess. Partisans of the sentimental novel reluctantly admit of a reason for the uncle's presence, but they place this reason around their main concern - the improbable marriage: Jane would not have married her beloved Master Rochester as long as he was a very rich gentleman and she could not bring him a dowry at their union. In their opinion, the letter is introduced in the text to save Jane 's sense of independence so she can marry. And this conjecture is usually propped up with Jane's theorized need for a sense of independence.

Let's fantasize a little around Master Rochester, refused by a poor Jane who loves him, but rejects him, fearing her independence. Improbable narrative solutions are well liked at that time. So, a rich and good-willed character could have found gentlemanly ways to bypass such a particular refusal. Repenting gentlemen, like Master Rochester, even more so. Charity was a moral requirement of the Victorian well-to-do, and there was always room for a new charity school, in a country where every third dweller was a child. If Jane's sense of independence was at stake, why not have it restored by her loved one, without Uncle Eyre's letter? We already know, from the St. John episode, that Jane has a soft spot for the greater good. The greater good was the excuse allowing Jane's (disciplinarian) mind to start dwelling once again on identitary stories that she would almost believe. The greater good almost had Jane marry St. John, who does not love her.

Jane's behavior doesn't cover independence-related expectancies of progressive critics, who notice that, in fact, Jane only needs "so small an independency", as she puts it in Chapter XXIV, i.e. enough money to provide for her family and to offer Rochester a noticeable pecuniary gift. We believe that independence, even if translated into a "small independency" is not at stake here, not because Jane is a cunning and complacent woman, but because Jane's attention is focusing on even more basic needs than love or independence. The most important gift that Uncle Eyre makes to Jane is not money; his letter provides her with a sense of identity.

Psychologists explain that orphans typically develop particular perceptions of their inner selves as being weak and hovering. The remission of this perception is uncertain. In many cases, this fundamental anxiety may coexist with the life of an achiever, and may last a lifetime. Charlotte Bronte's fictional character is no exception to this pattern, so we should not treat her being an orphan as a childhood-related situation only. John Sutherland (1997:67-9) explored the constant hints in the text to an abyss hidden underneath Rochester's surface, and the same scheme can be easily applied to the obsessive/sadistic behavior of St. John Rivers, as analyzed by Jerome Beaty (2007:143-156) and Marianne Thormälhen (2004:204-220). Another black swirling hole lurches beneath Jane's half-assertive and sometimes masochistic personality.

When she flees Thomfield Hall, Jane is reduced, for the second time in her life, to being almost no one. She is left only with her tried faith, her trauma and her learned skills, governessing or teaching. Exercising these skills requires selfeffacement. At the bottom of every situation where Jane is asked to practice selfdenial, there is her particular situation of being an orphan. To Anne Bronte's heroine, Agnes Grey, (private) teaching is simply toxic and unjust. To Jane Eyre, it becomes worse than that. Jane cannot practice self-denial, because she has nothing to efface. All promoters of such commonplace Victorian demands turn into abusers around Jane (Glen 2007:169-70). Uncle John Eyre's letter helps Jane and her cousin St. John to avoid falling victims to a vicious circle that none of them really started. With Jane's undeniable identity comes her mental healing and with it comes the restoration of St. John's moral stand. A healing Jane brings him back onto the narrow path of charity, where he can help, he can warn, but he cannot expect anything personal in return.

The most questionable part of this novel is also the part where Jane is granted that missing part of herself which she can recognize as authentic and immutable. Before the letter, Jane was a victim in her struggle against a harsh world; after the letter, her output is constantly more than survival. From a survivor, Jane becomes a giver. Depriving the novel of its secondary plot means leaving the faithful believer Jane without her God's miraculous answer. We need not suspect this miracle entirely, because there is always a trace of miracle in a process of healing. We need not deny Jane her chance at acquiring a healthy, reliable sense of social identity, even if, in stark contrast, at the end of Oliver Twist, Dickens' sweet boy character has acquired none (Beaty 1996:23-26).

3. The Governess and her Master

With the sentimental perception of this novel, Jane becomes a Governess, so that she may meet Rochester and the improbable marriage may take place.

Jane had every chance to become involved with education even if her parents had been alive. But does Jane really need to be specifically a Governess in order to marry Master Rochester?

It is usually argued that, unlike the lower servants, who were hired by the housekeeper (an upper servant), the governess (like the nurse) was hired by the master of the house. She was supposed to report to him directly, and so were the nurse, the coachman, the first gardener, the first cook and all the upper servants. As Daniel Pool (1933:218-230) informs us, the governess was a senior servant, but was considered a working-class servant, nevertheless. While the master would arrange for most servants to be very inconspicuous and could avoid meeting most of them ever in his life, he had to see the governess every once in a while. And that is the argument that links Jane's transient job to her marriage.

If one wants to verify the strength of this link, here is the alternative: what if Jane had not been a governess, but one of the servants? Jean Fernandez' (2010: 147-178) presentation of autobiographic works written by servants almost invites the idea. Despite all arrangements related to status, emergencies of all kinds could make people noticeable to each other, as the fire scene in Jane Eyre reminds us.

Picture a girl servant who was instructed to avoid meeting the master, but who sings beautifully while doing any of her chores. Thornfield Hall keeps most servants out of sight completely, but sound can travel more freely and we have plenty of information on Rochester's particular sensibility for this talent. We can easily picture a girl who has Jane's moral qualities, a keen intuition of Rochester's character, and a serious inclination for self-improvement. (The governess as a character was, in fact, preceded in novels by the female servant).

Were a servant's chances to catch the eye of Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester significantly lower? Fantasy aside, relativity makes this line of thought unworthy of pursuing. Typically, Victorian gentlemen wouldn't marry governesses any sooner than they would marry maid servants. A governess or a servant can fulfill the woman's part in this sentimental recipe almost equally well. So the link between Jane's job and her marriage is feeble.

4. An abandoned social cause

Charlotte Bronte's novel is not a Governess Novel. It does not tell the story of a teacher, or a governess, but the story of a believer who seeks and then follows her Vocation. Even so, activist readers are disappointed with Bronte, when she excuses Jane, after years of ordeal, from overworking herself in a school room for a living. But this expectation is paradoxical.

Governesses were forced by the status quo to adopt what we most often would read today as a maniacal behavior, and few of them would have considered teaching a more sacred duty than marriage and motherhood. More important than that, Jane cannot go back to what (not who) she was before she started to experience her new sense of identity. Her personality is enlarged by her experiences of finding a family, of finding ways to overcome disrespect and indoctrination, of finding ways to recuperate her beloved Rochester. The two voices of Jane expressed two different personalities. Of them, Jane's mature voice is larger than one classroom or another. The mature Jane will take her experience with education to a next level when she finally becomes the autobiographer. We agree with Jerome Beaty's (1996:219) observations: there is primacy of young Jane over her mature voice. It used to displease even Charlotte Bronte, who spoke of "injudicious admirers" (Letters 4:52-53, cited in Beaty 1996: 219-220). Nevertheless, Jane Eyre is a type of text that also needs an amount of reading between the lines. What is being implied is sometimes more significant than what is being said. The mature Jane is much more powerful than the young Jane ever was. And, by choosing to hand her experience down, she continues her work as an educator.

Charlotte Brontë was a religious writer; yet Bronte did not see teaching in a classroom as the Station in Fife that God gaveth Jane. Jane's God expects no one to waste away. Sometimes characters in the Bible are chosen by God as His vehicles and helped to live abundant and meaningful lives. The expectations of social activists are misplaced with mature Jane Eyre. They are not expecting too much, but too little from the person who Jane has become. The accent in Jane Eyre is not on disconnecting oneself from the idea of Stations in Fife, but on growing connected to a broader, superior idea of social order, i.e. that of divine Vocation.

5. Portrait of the author as an ex-Governess

With her identity regained and financial problems settled, Jane does not turn against education, but against the longest situation of coercion that she had to endure. She will also turn in favor of everything that she loves. And Jane loves taking on responsibilities that she has a chance to choose. After leaving her job, Jane marries, tends to a blinded and maimed Rochester, adopts Adele, gives birth, and rears her son to the age of ten, then decides to write, thus becoming the "autobiographer". The last of Jane's choices that we are informed about is the least debated of all. Why is it so natural for a traumatized orphan female child, who survives and marries well to become "the autobiographer"? And has someone who writes an autobiography abandoned the idea of Education? Certainly not.

We should be more aware that Jane parted with classroom work, but upgraded to a superior level of teaching, by producing a work of art. Could a stillteaching Governess Jane have turned a part-time autobiographer? Certainly: before Jane's book had already been done. But moral didactic novels imply "exempla"; novelty, originality need more concentration and implied a lot more time. Only day teachers had some margin of negotiation regarding their own time. (Concentration was considered a typical capacity of the masculine brain, anyway). Could a rich but unmarried Jane have written an autobiography? She probably could, but her authoress apparently thought very few things, apart from love and enjoyment of a God-given life (i.e. fulfillment of one's earthly potential), were worthy of Jane's art.

But let's go back to our girl-servant for one more second: were her chances to grow into the "autobiographer" significantly lower? Definitely: there is not enough time in the character's life to go past a certain level. Even when far from ideal, schools have this capacity of focusing on several kinds of education and thus compressing time. Charlotte Bronte does not send Jane to Lowood to become a Governess, and gradually learn how to learn, only so she can marry, but so she can write. We cannot know what level of scholarly knowledge is enough for catching the eye of a haunted master, but we can fathom out the kind of learning and time needed to produce a masterpiece like Jane Eyre. In this novel, Jane gets to buy time twice: first, she goes to Lowood, earning a compression of time; then, she marries Rochester, earning an expansion of her personal time.

6. At what point does a book end?

Enthusiasts of the sentimental novel think Charlotte Bronte should have stopped writing with the infamous marriage-announcing line: "Reader, I married him." The first line of the Conclusions (Chapter XXXVIII) should have ended the novel (Exeunt: Fairfax Rochester and his young wife).

Re-cutting the text at that point, for the sake of exercise, would bring up major issues. Eliminating the last part of the book diminishes the importance of St. John Rivers. St. John Rivers was analyzed as part of a larger narrative strategy by a Marxist - Terry Eagleton (2005:19-20, 95-96), by Cultural Studies focused analyst with regard to religion - Marianne Thormälhen (2004:204-220) ) and by a Bachtinian structuralist - Jerome Beaty (2007:143-156). Their researches are enough proof that cutting up the character of St. John Rivers would twist the book entirely.

Also, the marriage is the event where the voices were originally disjoined, because it is the first time when Jane got to act according to her vocation. There is a "before", informing the voice of inexperienced Jane, and an "after", informing the "autobiographer", who becomes the only voice in the last paragraphs of the book (Beaty 1996:214-215); see also Glen (2007:173-174). Ignoring the story after the marriage means ignoring Jane "the autobiographer".

Other interpreters have another cut of choice, namely the last words in the letter of St. John Rivers: "Amen; even so come, Lord Jesus!" (Exit: St. John Rivers). This variant takes St. John Rivers' probable death for granted and uses it in a symbolic construction: his (Christian) death is a necessary substitute for the death of an "autobiographer" unable to retell her own death. This interpretation sanctions two, equally potent paths to salvation, namely Jane's marriage/motherhood, and St. John's missionary death. Here the autobiographer exists (only) to emphasize the saint. Master Edward Fairfax Rochester, the repentant husband's salvation, is forgotten behind. In fact, even the humble characters like Bessie also trod the infinite number of paths that lead to Heaven in Jane Eyre. Each good-willed character has a path of his/her own.

In both these interpretations, the Autobiography is considered no more than a narrative convention of the time. Neither interpretation takes Jane "the autobiographer" into account.

Charlotte Bronte devised a gradual ending to her book. Her multiple endings are a formula for travelling through space, time and meanings, larger and larger with every new step. But any novel ends with the last written sign on its last page. St. John and the autobiographer Jane Eyre "die" at the instant when they can add no more to the story that Charlotte Bronte told. Neither dies physically; they just exit when the story ends. To St. John this happens on the brink of death, while to Jane this happens after writing her own story. At this point, the last two characters are using their lives to the fullest and fully enjoy their choices. Rochester makes his family happy by reopening his heart to God's goodness; St. John brings the good news to many foreigners, while forcing apotheosis with increasing joy, and the "autobiographer" finishes a work of art that has brought wisdom and joy to many. At this point, that which the writer needs us to see has become fully perceivable, and there's nothing more to write about.

7. The loop of Education: Vocation in Jane Eyre

Charlotte Bronte strips the obsolete allegorical style away from the original Pilgrim, and replaces it with a different method of treating allegory. Many improbable, but not entirely impossible events occur everywhere in this novel. These events are ambiguously treated by the writer, and ambiguously explained by the characters, so that readers need to decide for themselves upon the miraculous or more mundane character of an event. Quite some spectacular events in the novel guide the characters towards their particular ways of fulfilling God's will.

In between events, the space is filled by a Romanticism-influenced view of Nature as God's sacred temple. Nature surrounding human dwellings and nature in the hearts of people communicate in mysterious ways, and together they give testimony of God's goodness. In Jane Eyre, the Romantic soul's ascension, often imperiled by the faulty minds of people, is safeguarded by divine Nature around and within.

Vocation, God's calling in one's heart, manifests itself in all good-willed characters following their natural inclinations. Vocation becomes conspicuous when Duty and Enjoyment are separable no more, and Jane's progress suggests that mature souls are not restricted to one side of life. Jane's Vocation manifests with her marriage and with motherhood, but its manifestations don't end there, and writing will soon follow. Truthful seekers live meaningful earthly lives, and more than one Pilgrim is on the good way, at the point where this book ends: Bessy is a good mother, St. John is a good missionary, Rochester is a good husband (though some would say this is only temporary) and Jane is a good writer. The sign of a found Vocation is not being spotless, but being in the world with love in one's heart. Following one's heart keeps sin at bay. Motherhood lets sharp-tongued Bessie's abundant goodness prevail. Renunciation repurposes St. John's ambition, and his willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice may override his pride. St. John's last letter confesses, finally, of his love for God. A repentant Rochester also becomes capable of loving, without destroying what he loves.

Jane is the most evolved character in the book. She needs neither repentance, nor renunciation: Jane's privileged practice is a method of prevention, i.e. balancing each of her inclinations against all the others to prevent her from sinning. Fier superior method of faring in this world will let Jane have a little bit of everything she knows to be good and enjoyable on Earth.

8. A comprehensive Bildungsroman

Jane Eyre is often cited as the first female Bildungsroman; but Marianne Thormälhen (2007:4) is one researcher who questions that. In her opinion, a Bildungsroman is about (formal) education and/or formation (where informal, sentimental and moral education is included). In contrast, the core concept in Jane Eyre's transformation is maturation. As she puts it, Jane's decisions are never influenced by any of the people she meets. She never uses anyone else's eyes to assess a new situation, or a new twist of fate that she faces. Her specific method of balancing each new experience that she undergoes through other experiences of different types makes influences, and thus learning, useless.

The key organ involved in a person's education is their mind, whereas the key organ involved in Jane's maturation is her heart - a heart conceived in accord with the Evangelical creed, as the organ where God resides. At birth, the mind is an untouched tablet; the heart is bom into this world bearing the germs of God's love. Maturation of the heart will simply let them develop, leading the soul out of this world and into the next (Thormälhen 2004:71-89).

We subscribe to Thormälhen's concept of maturation, but we also find the idea of an autonomous Jane far-fetched. In fact, Jane is subjected to several educational discourses throughout her story. She rejects the abusive ones, but she also allows herself to be changed by every experience that is agreeable and is inspired by love. Jane's moral dimension originates in her meeting with Helen Burns. Paradoxically, Terry Eagleton is a better analyst of the position this little benign creature holds within the novel (Eagleton 2005:15-16). The way in which Master Rochester attempts to undertake Jane's sentimental education through discourse has been exposed. Thormälhen emphasizes Jane's moral expectations, but Jane's healing process also involves making good use of what she leams about herself with Rochester. The contrasts between education/ formation and maturation, respectively between mind and heart, are not in a relationship of mutual exclusion within the book. A more comprehensive relationship between the two series of elements would describe Jane's evolution accurately. The Heart blooms out, learning to recognize and to express God's love within the existing world: here the Heart is put into worlds by the Mind, which is initially blank and then needs formation and education. In the end of the story, when Jane's soul attains maturity, education is not absent but, on the contrary omnipresent. Her every circumstance and action in this world has become one and the same powerful lesson in God's goodness.

9. Conclusion

John Sutherland (1997:67-9) emphasizes a quality that Jane Eyre shares with other great books, written by virtuosos: the text revisits a large number of literary sources. These sources vary significantly in style: children's tales, urban legends like that of Barbe Bleue, Biblical quotes, church discourse, newspaper debates, Bunyan, Milton, Walter Scott poems are all completely reinterpreted through Charlotte Bronte's personal artistic filter, and made to fit into an entirely new literary structure. Harold Bloom (2007:1-2), in his "Introduction" that emphasizes the influence of Byron on the text, also mentions more modern writers to whose works this book is kindred.

This new structure almost makes taxonomy explode: we must concede that Jane Eyre is a Bildungsroman within the framework of a moralist/didacticist novel and with accents of social satire, at times; a bit of a Governess's story, for a while; a sentimental/domestic novel, with Romanticism inspired, almost poematic scenery and thrilling Gothic sparkles ending in a suggestion of a fairy tale; a transposition of the Romantic creed in prose; one of the first discourses of female subjectivity; and the fictionalized autobiography of a woman writer.

But this fantastic textual organization works as an irrefutable argument in a major battle of its time: if a woman could produce a work like that, time for change was ripe.

The game of ambiguities (Sutherland 1997:73-75, 79-80), of substitutions (Godfrey 2005:854, 863, 868-869) and of power (Eagleton 2005:19-20, 95-6) in this comprehensive and entertaining writing converges towards the ultimate argument, the silent and irrefutable argument of the very book in our hands. With all the social limitations that she accepted within her text, out of conviction or fear, and with all the limitations that she wasn't even aware of, Charlotte made Jane, the disempowered Governess, leave a fictional school room and take over the real world.

In Chapter I, Volume II of her biography (Chapter XVI in the online version), Mrs. Gaskell explains Charlotte Bronte's decision of turning a plain heroine into a magnetic character as a writers' dispute between the sisters. The Bible describes David as a plain (i.e. insignificant) boy, yet he is the plain boy whom God Himself has chosen to speak His words. Jane becomes a writer, an artist and, as such, a Prophet of modern days - according to the Romantic creed. This is why, in the text of Jane Eyre, God fulfills Jane's wishes.

The escape into fairy tale (Gilbert 2000:351-352, 370) or into Dystopia (Wood 2009:94-110) is followed by another "escape", this time into dilated, Biblical coordinates. This is the deeper meaning of St. John's presence and words at the end of the novel. Also, this is where the allegoric power is restituted to Bunyan, the main source of inspiration for Jane Eyre. What to some is an escape, to others is an enlargement. The ultimate theme of Jane Eyre is the explanation of its every success: it is ultimately a text about plenitude and Vocation.

References

References

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