Read the book: «Pride, Prejudice and Popcorn»

Jane Eyre: The Book

Here’s the story of Jane Eyre, as told in the original novel by Charlotte Brontë. Before we begin, have you read the book? No? Go read it. I’ll wait.

Oh, good, you’re back. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Here’s the story:

Chapters I–X: In which Jane survives a miserable childhood and applies for a job.

Once upon a time there was an orphan who was raised by a cruel guardian (Aunt Reed) and tormented by her guardian’s evil children. This child, Jane Eyre, is first seen reading a book and immediately being whacked in the head with said book by her cousin. Thus does Jane instantly win our sympathies, for not only does her cousin try to give her a concussion, but he also loses her place. What an ass.

Jane tackles her cousin, the ass, and is promptly shut up in a room by Aunt Reed. It happens to be the same room in which Jane’s uncle had died, and Jane has a fit brought on by either her imagination or a visit from a ghost. Aunt Reed sends Jane away to Lowood Institution, a charitable school run by the vain and corrupt Mr. Brocklehurst. Some readers find this part of the story to be tiresome, but you can’t skip it, because here Jane finds two important mentors—Helen, a friend who teaches Jane about forgiveness and patience, and Miss Temple, who clears Jane of Mr. Brocklehurst’s accusations (he tells the other girls to shun her because she is a liar). Jane learns many valuable lessons at Lowood:

1. Hypocrisy is a bad thing. It is also a bad thing to either live your life in total self-indulgence or in total self-sacrifice (shown by the needless suffering of the Lowood students and the disgust with which Jane regards Mr. Brocklehurst’s spoiled, overdressed daughters).

2. If you simply rage bitterly all the time, you will destroy yourself. If you practice restraint and forgiveness, you will be more likely to find justice and you will certainly be happier.

3. It is very important to wash your hands frequently and to cover your mouth when you cough.

Alas, it is only my own wishful thinking at work with regard to number three. A typhus epidemic strikes Lowood, and Helen, who has been suffering from consumption all of this time, dies in Jane’s arms. With her final words, Helen reminds Jane of the glories of heaven. In almost every film adaptation, she does this while coughing directly into Jane’s face, as if to bring Jane along as quickly as possible. But Jane is made of tough stuff, and she does not contract typhus or consumption. She graduates from Lowood and works as a teacher there until she grows restless and applies for a position of governess at the remote Thornfield Hall.

Chapters XI–XV: In which Rochester appears.

Jane likes Thornfield well enough, although it is a confusing place, as gothic estates so often are. The first mystery is who everyone is—Mrs. Fairfax, who Jane assumes to be the owner, is in fact the housekeeper, and Adele is not Mrs. Fairfax’s daughter but is rather the ward of Rochester, who is absent. There’s also the mystery of the strange laughter Jane hears at night. Mrs. Fairfax blames this laughter on Grace Poole, a servant who doesn’t seem to do much except drink port.

Eventually Rochester shows up. In true gothic fashion, Jane is walking through the woods in the mist when Rochester almost runs over her (with his horse) and calls her a witch. The next day, Rochester tells Jane to have an after-dinner chat with him, as he is, evidentially, bored. Over the course of the next few weeks, Rochester and Jane have many talks, in which she forces him to use some semblance of decent manners toward her, and he tells her all about his past life of scandal, including the fact that his last mistress claimed that Adele was his daughter, an accusation he does not believe.

Jane and Rochester are drawn even closer when she saves his life. She is awakened by strange laughter, smells smoke, and follows it to Rochester’s room, where his bedclothes have caught on fire. Jane awakens Rochester by throwing water in his face, which leads to the hilarious line, “Is there a flood?” (Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre [New York: Random House, 1943], 110). They put out the fire and he tells her to stay in his room. He leaves, comes back, and concludes the fire was probably caused by Grace Poole. Jane, ever the voice of reason, points out that maybe the homicidal, cackling, drunken maniac should be ordered to leave, but Rochester says not to worry, everything’s fine. He proceeds to gaze at Jane with such evident adoration that she freaks out, goes back to her room and stays awake all night in a state that will be painfully relatable to any of us who spent junior high school wondering if That Boy liked us, and if so, did he really like us, and if so, did he like us as more than a friend, or what? Alas for Jane, when she wakes up in the morning Rochester has gone to visit friends, at least one of which is gorgeous, single and female. Drat.

Chapters XVI–XXIII: In which Rochester is a total jerk, with happy results…or are they?

Rochester shows up at Thornfield with a group of rich, snobby people, including Blanche Ingram, the book’s Mean Girl. In a particularly cruel twist, Rochester order Jane to attend all the guests’ venomous little get-togethers, so that she can witness every second of flirtation between Blanche and Rochester himself. She’s also treated to rants about how useless and despicable governesses are.

Rochester leaves for a day, and while he’s gone, two strangers arrive. One is Mr. Mason, who claims to be a friend of Rochester’s. The other is a gypsy woman, who insists on telling everyone’s fortune. She tries to get Jane to admit that she (Jane) likes Rochester, but Jane won’t admit a thing. Kudos to Jane—because the gypsy woman turns out to be Rochester in disguise. Rochester is quite smug about his game until Jane mentions that a Mr. Mason has arrived. Rochester is horrified but with a great deal of moral support from Jane, he sallies back to the party looking cheerful as ever.

An aside: Readers, I love this book. I have a copy of it wrapped in plastic in my earthquake/flood/zombie-apocalypse emergency kit in case I have to restart civilization from scratch (I also have The Lord of the Rings and many, many ballpoint pens). But please do not date a guy who stages an elaborate plan to publicly humiliate you and make you jealous. Just don’t.

Later that night, everyone wakes up to the sound of screaming. Rochester sends everyone back to bed but has Jane come with him to a secret room where Mr. Mason is bleeding copiously. Jane has to sit alone with Mason, “sponging” the wound (apparently no one in the Victorian age knew about applying direct pressure) while Rochester fetches a doctor. With the dawn, Mason is smuggled off to the doctor’s place.

Not long afterward, Jane goes to visit Aunt Reed. She’s dying and has asked for Jane. Here we get another lesson about the problem with living life at one extreme or the other: of Aunt Reed’s three children, Eliza is about to become a nun, a path Jane views as something of a waste of Eliza’s formidable intellect; Georgiana is looking for a rich husband and is regarded by Jane as hopelessly frivolous; and John, the cousin who was an ass, is now a dead ass, having wasted his life and his money with gambling and drink. Jane forgives her aunt, and her aunt reveals that Jane has an uncle who had asked about Jane long ago and wanted to adopt her, but Aunt Reed, who hated Jane, told him Jane had died at Lowood. The aunt dies, and Jane goes back to Thornfield. This is such a tangent that many adaptations leave it out, but in addition to being thematically important, it sets up a later plot twist.

Jane tells Rochester that when he marries Blanche, she (Jane, not Blanche) will have to leave. More parties ensue until finally, there is great joy, for Rochester proposes to Jane! He was never going to marry Blanche! He was just trying to make Jane jealous! He adores her! Everyone is happy, except Blanche, who is still looking for a rich husband, and Mrs. Fairfax, who finds the entire situation to be appalling. Of course, before proposing, Rochester has to test Jane by making her jealous one last time and telling her she should stay at Thornfield even after he marries Blanche. It is here that Jane has her greatest, though not happiest, hour:

Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton? A machine without feelings? And can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty, and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh; it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal—as we are (190)!

Just copying that out makes me so overwrought that I have to go run around the block and then lie down. All of what makes Jane awesome is crystallized in this stunning scene. Sing it, sister.

Chapters XXIV–XXVIII: Disaster!

Rochester turns out to be even more patronizing as a fiancé than he was an employer, and Jane has her hands full trying to keep their relationship grounded as he keeps trying to dress her up like a very rich, fancy doll. Finally the wedding day comes, but who should appear but Mr. Mason, who objects to the wedding on the grounds that Rochester has a mad wife locked in the attic at Thornfield. This does, in fact, turn out to be true (she was the source of the laughter, the fire, and the copious bleeding) so the wedding is off. Rochester claims that he was tricked into marrying the madwoman, whose name is Bertha, and once her madness progressed to an unbearably awful point, he brought her to Thornfield to be cared for as well as possible.

Rochester begs Jane to stay with him. In a heartrending passage, he explains his history with Bertha, and he begs Jane’s forgiveness for keeping Bertha a secret. Then, in a move that is both heartbreaking and incredibly whiny and dick-ish, he tells Jane that she must stay with him, because otherwise, he would be so sad that he would have no choice but to fall into dissolute ways again. Jane is wracked with heartbreak but still sensible enough to point out that neither she nor Rochester is doomed to dissolution; they can both separately endure, and they can choose to live decent lives. Still, Jane is terribly tempted to stay with Rochester, both for her sake and his own. She believes that if she becomes his mistress he will come to despise her, but she also thinks that she should save his life, thinking of her own, “Who in the world cares for you?” At which she answers herself:

I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself (239).

Chapters XXIX–XXXV: In which Jane flees Thornfield, becomes rich, acquires relatives and is hit on by a pastor.

Jane wanders the moors and almost starves to death before being taken in by two sisters, Mary and Diana, and their brother, St. John Rivers, a pastor who is planning to go to India as a missionary. Jane gives her name as Jane Eliot, and St. John gives her a job teaching in the village school. This is a long, slow section but here’s what’s important:

1. St. John finds out that Jane Eliot is Jane Eyre, and that Jane Eyre is, in fact, an heiress. Remember that uncle that Aunt Reed mentioned? The one who wanted to adopt Jane? Well, he died and left Jane a huge fortune.

2. The reason St. John knows this is that they are cousins. Jane is, to St. John’s confusion, considerably more overjoyed by learning that she has relatives than by learning that she is rich, and she gives most of the money to her newfound family, although this still leaves a generous amount for herself. She is now financially independent for life.

3. St. John proposes to Jane because he wants a companion to join him when he goes to India, and for propriety’s sake they must be married. When Jane protests that she does not love St. John in a romantic way, nor does he love her, and that being in a marriage of convenience to him in a harsh physical environment would both physically and emotionally destroy her, he pretty much asserts that her life should be sacrificed to God. But Jane has some practice with people telling her not to value her own life or happiness, and she continues to decline St. John’s proposals. After much effort on his part, though, she wavers—until she thinks she hears Rochester calling her name, and she takes off to find him.

Chapters XXXVI–XXXVIII: Reader, I married him.

When Jane gets to Thornfield, it has burned down. She discovers that Bertha escaped the attic again and set fire to the house. Rochester got all the servants out and then tried to save Bertha. She jumped from the roof, died, and launched a thousand feminist essays and works of revisionist fiction (most notably, the excellent but depressing Wide Sargasso Sea, by Jean Rhys, and The Madwoman in the Attic by Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar). Rochester survived the fire but lost one hand and became blind in one eye. Jane finds him and engages in some hilarious repartee as, in an attempt to tease him out of melancholy, she tries making him jealous for a change. They get married, have a baby, find a school for Adele that is close enough to allow for regular visits (boarding schools are the norm at that time, but Jane makes sure that Adele’s school is not Lowood 2.0) and enjoy Jane’s new extended family. The end.