Does Jane Eyre need redeeming?

A.N. Wilson - a well-known historian - writes an article on Jane Eyre for The Telegraph. We can't say we agree with many of the points he raises but it's at least nourrishing food for thought.

Rereading Jane Eyre confirms memory's hunch that the first half is wonderful and the second half is drivel.

Well, that's up to the reader to decide. And the second part - in out humble opinion - is vital for Jane's development as an independent, modern woman. Without the second half, Jane Eyre would be considered the masterpiece we know it to be.

That said, it deserves a prize for both its opening sentence and its last. "There was no possibility of taking a walk that day" should be studied by anyone who wants to write a novel. It is a sentence that is quiet, modest, matter-of-fact, but that draws you in immediately. By the end of the second sentence, we have met Jane's odious aunt Mrs Reed, and the wretchedness of Jane's orphan childhood and her lovelessness among the Reed cousins begins to unfold.
Probably as many people believe that the novel ends "Reader, I married him" as there are who think Sherlock Holmes was always saying: "Elementary, my dear Watson." In fact, the closing words of the book are, "Amen; even so, come, Lord Jesus!" You can't get further over the top than that, and I love to think of a modern novelist trying to make a hit by imitating the Jane Eyre formula and copying this device.

Indeed!

As with so many Victorian novels, the best bits of the book are not in fact concerned with the man-woman relationship but rather with childhood. I was surprised, on this reading, to discover that Jane's horrible experience of tantrums with the Reeds, her being locked in the Red Room, and her being sent to Lowood, the hateful evangelical school, are so short. They are the bits that had stayed most vividly in my mind.
When interviewed by Mr Brocklehurst for her place at the school, Jane is asked, " 'And what is hell? Can you tell me that?' 'A pit full of fire.' 'And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?' 'No, sir.' 'What must you do to avoid it?' I deliberated a moment; my answer, when it came, was objectionable: 'I must keep in good health, and not die.' "
Nothing in the book - not the midnight prowlings of Mrs Rochester nor the drama of Jane's interrupted wedding - quite exceeds the brilliance of this exchange. But, though the second half of the story is so unsatisfactory and in parts so boring, it is not unrelated to Jane's talk with Mr Brocklehurst. Jane Eyre is not merely a justly popular novel. It is also one of the great documents of 19th-century Protestantism.

And many more things besides. Jane Eyre is such a complete work that it will have something for every reader. It is Jane's childhood for Mr Wilson; it is the love story for many other people; it is Jane's development for yet many others; it is Jane's independence and self-respect for others; and so on and so forth. This does not necessarily mean that one aspect is better than the others - it simply means that, for some reason, the reader connects better with it.

Four types of religion are offered for the reader's inspection. Three are distortions of the Gospel: Mr Brocklehurst's punishment-obsessed power mania; Jane's cousin Eliza Reed's formalist piety - she is first a Tractarian and then, horror of horrors, a Roman Catholic nun; and, finally, there is that of the Rev St John Rivers. He is a guilt-ridden agnostic (though we are told this in code) who tries to appease his guilt by becoming a missionary. He wants Jane to go with him to India as his wife and, though there is no love between them, she is half tempted, until she mystically hears Mr Rochester's voice calling in the winds.

St John a guilt-ridden agnostic? Which code is that, pray? We don't discard the possibility he was agnostic - it's up for debate - but we hadn't really regarded him as such. Honestly, we will be thinking of that all day today. But Jane does tell us he's, if not exactly guilt-ridden, at least quite ill at ease:

I was sure St. John Rivers -- pure-lived, conscientious, zealous as he was -- had not yet found that peace of God which passeth all understanding: he had no more found it, I thought, than had I with my concealed and racking regrets for my broken idol and lost elysium -- regrets to which I have latterly avoided referring, but which possessed me and tyrannised over me ruthlessly. (Jane Eyre, ch. XXX)

We will scan our copy of Jane Eyre later in search of that code. We don't really like St John but we find him truly interesting as a character.

But to finish with the article. Here's the fourth type of religion.

Mr Rochester, with his appallingly flawed nature, his passion, his willingness to commit bigamy, is a full-blown sinner. But much is forgiven to those who have loved much. As in the Epistle to the Romans, being a sinner is not a bar to grace, it is a gateway. Jane Eyre comes to him not only as a fervent lover but also as a redeemer, so that the biblical last words, quoted by the dying St John in a letter from India, are the key to the story's meaning.

Even though Mr Wilson affirms he's not quite so keen on the second half of the story here he shows he cares much more for it than he lets show.

We have only quotes bits and pieces of the article. We truly encourage you to read the whole thing and then pause to consider it.

Categories: Jane Eyre, In the News