Rebellion and Reform: Are Bertha and Jane More Similar Than We Thought?

Bertha is the 'dark double' of Jane. Discuss.

By Margaret 

Throughout Jane Eyre, the characters of Jane Eyre and Bertha Mason are frequently presented as polar opposites and are juxtaposed with each other throughout the novel. Bertha is effectively Jane’s foil, both in situation, character and representation. Although this idea does not contribute significantly to the plot of the story, it does provide a major theme through which the story is filtered. The contrast of these two characters can only be seen clearly by two people: Mr Rochester and the reader. Although Jane technically triumphs in the end, the reader cannot help but ask whether it was really Bertha’s fault that she met such a terrible fate, and whether Jane might not have met the same end if their roles had been reversed. 

            The first clear display of Jane and Bertha’s contradistinction is when Bertha sets fire to Mr Rochester’s bed in the middle of the night. This scene could be interpreted in a vast number of ways. Although at this point in the novel neither Jane nor the reader is yet aware of Bertha as a character, the existence of some darker entity within Thornfield is increasingly obvious. This gives the scene a thrillingly gothic flavour, and, along with the elements of fear, danger and mystery present, the situation takes on a complex and captivating meaning. First, the contrast between fire and water, or, non-fire, could be said to represent the contrast between Jane and Bertha. Bertha, who sets the fire, is ‘malignant’, ‘depraved’ and ‘embruted’- the picture of supposedly ‘unfeminine’ passion. In contrast, Jane, who douses the fire, is ‘grave’, ‘quiet’ and ‘collected’, and a ‘Quaker’ in demeanour. The two characters could not be more different, even down to the polarity between Bertha’s childhood in the hot, exotic climate of Jamaica and Jane’s in the quiet English countryside at Lowood school. However, the reader knows that Jane has not always possessed such reserve; at the beginning of the novel, she is described as “‘a picture of passion”’, ‘“a mad cat”’ and ‘“rude”’, which connotes a striking similarity to Bertha’s character. When Jane attends Lowood, characters such as Helen Burns encourage Jane to ‘“forget… passionate emotions”’ and stop ‘“nursing animosity”’, leading Jane to reform her behaviour and become the character we are familiar with later on in the novel. Bertha, evidently, experienced no such encouragement, except the encouragement provided by the clear lack of love, support and guidance which should have come from her family or educators. Jean Rhys’ novel Wide Sargasso Sea explores the possibility that Bertha did receive appropriate treatment as a child yet descended into madness only when faced with subordinacy to Rochester as his wife. Either way, these two very different character arcs mean that Jane dousing Bertha’s fire could be representative of Jane dousing her own inner fire and showing how Bertha never did the same. This shows precisely how Jane and Bertha are different: Jane learned control and self-mastery, whereas Bertha did not.

            However, it is difficult to say where the objective line lies in respect to these two women’s characters. Is it inherently better to be ‘grave and quiet’? Is it really so wrong to have such ‘giant propensities’? Critics such as Gilbert and Gubar, as well as Rhys, express the idea that the virtue in these characteristics was determined purely by men, particularly men in direct positions of power in relation to the women possessing them. For Bertha, Rochester seems to have the final judgement on the quality and value of her nature; Jane is seemingly oppressed into conformity by a multitude of men: John Reed, Mr Brocklehurst and, later, St John. The Victorian era is often associated with its strict ideas on feminine decorum: women were expected to be pure, chaste, refined and modest, a standard which Jane is moulded to meet during her years at Lowood. It is also a standard which Bertha certainly does not meet, at least, according to Rochester. In his account to Jane of his early assessment of Bertha’s character, he states that he ‘“had marked neither modesty, nor benevolence, nor candour, nor refinement in her mind or manners”’. Rochester is, of course, an unreliable narrator of his own story, having earlier asserted that he was “‘wronged’” by “‘fate’”, thus showing him to have a victim mentality, as well as being an upper-class male. His view of the situation and of Bertha is intrinsically and wholly biased. This expectation of women was common from men, and indeed from other women, in this era, and any deviation from it was deemed ugly and unfavourable. This is the reason that Jane can find her place in English society, whereas Bertha is an outcast. It could be argued that this paradigm imposed upon the women of the Victorian era was simply invented and propagated by the male sex alone, especially as it appears that men profited most from this arrangement of society. Jane Eyre provides a good example of this in the way Rochester exercises power and possibly manipulation over both Bertha and Jane, as they are both limited by society’s restrictions. However, it is also likely that Rochester’s view of Bertha’s character is not so much based on his unreasonable expectation of women than on Bertha’s actual behaviour and disposition. In his account to Jane, Rochester describes her conversation as ‘‘perverse and imbecile”’, her mind ‘“singularly incapable”’, ‘“her vices…rank [and] strong”’ and her temper ‘“violent and unreasonable”’. It is already evident to the reader that Rochester is an enormously good judge of character; in only the third meeting between Rochester and Jane, he observes Jane’s repressed character, saying, ‘“you are not naturally austere”’ and comparing her to ‘“a vivid, restless resolute captive”’ bird in a cage. In addition, when Rochester disguises himself as a gypsy fortune-teller in order to speak with Jane alone, he produces an enormous monologue on her most intimate character qualities, including a remark that Jane’s mouth ‘“would be silent on much the heart experiences”’. Thus, it seems unreasonable to assume that Rochester cannot judge Bertha’s character when he judges Jane’s so well. In this way also are Bertha and Jane likened to each other: they are subject to the expectations and opinions of Rochester alone, not just those of society.

            Furthermore, Bertha can be seen as the ‘dark double’ of Jane in the way they are both differently perceived by Rochester. Throughout the novel, Rochester refers to Jane as an ‘elf’, ‘sprite’, ‘witch’ and ‘fairy’, all creatures connoted with mystery, magic, hidden secrets and perhaps beauty. Rochester frequently teases Jane regarding his view of her and it is a source of conversation, wit and emotional bonding between them both. Rochester also uses mythical language to describe Bertha, calling her a ‘demon’ and a ‘monster’, while, to Jane, she appears as a ‘vampire’, a ‘spectre’ and a ‘goblin’. This harsh characterisation of Bertha helps the reader to see the dichotomy between her character and Jane’s, painting them as exact opposites: light and dark, sweet and bitter, righteousness and sin. Rochester’s celestializing of Jane and demonising of Bertha shows the difference in treatment between women who ‘behaved’ and women who did not in Victorian society. However, it should not be decided too quickly that Jane and Bertha are judged solely by the expectations of men and society. In Jane Eyre, there is a strong theme of morality according to Christianity, something which Jane strongly tries to adhere to, particularly during her years at Lowood and during the events following the discovery of Bertha. In fact, this faith is precisely what prevents Jane from running away with Rochester, as she says, ‘“I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man”’. Jane’s faith seems to govern most of her actions, with the notable exception of when she becomes devoted to Rochester, saying, ‘He stood between me and every thought of religion’. This section of the novel notwithstanding, Jane’s ‘collected’, ‘grave and quiet’ character seems to stem from a genuine desire to possess a demure, virtuous and self-controlled nature, as taught to her by other Christians such as Helen, who asserts that “‘It is not violence that best overcomes hate’”. Thus, it could be concluded that Jane’s socially acceptable behaviour is not a result of patriarchal expectations, but of true, God-fearing honour and principle. Therefore, it may also be inferred that Bertha’s behaviour was not simply out-of-line with society’s stipulations, but with moral stipulations as well. This adds darker and more complex layers to the concept of Bertha being Jane’s ‘dark double’. Moreover, Bertha even appears to denounce the expectations of society and morality when she, upon entering Jane’s room in the middle of the night before her wedding, “‘rent [Jane’s veil] in two parts, and... trampled on them’”. This seems to be Bertha’s way of condemning both Jane and Rochester’s marriage and the fate of women like her, destined to be restrained and controlled their whole life. This is where the contrast between Jane and Bertha reaches its peak: where Bertha rejects all hope of an honourable, virtuous life, and Jane embraces it. Thus, the dark double is seen.

In conclusion, Bertha is the ‘dark double’ of Jane in more ways than one. Bertha represents the violent passion that Jane has been taught to master, the destructive character Jane has learned to reform, and the lack of moral integrity Jane has epitomised. Although both characters are connected through Rochester, both seek independence from him: Bertha in violence and Jane in productivity. In the end, Bertha commits the ultimate act of rebellion by throwing herself from the roof of Thornfield. Jane embraces the Christian principles of sacrificial love and generosity and marries the finally humble Rochester.