In
this study of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre and
Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea I aim to consider
the representation of the doubleness of selfhood, and how
both between and within the two novels a continuous
mirroring of double identity, (reflecting like a hall of
mirrors), can be traced. I will concentrate chiefly on
the duality of the female personae, although I will also
consider briefly the concept of doubling across gender
boundaries.
Miller maintains that 'doubles may appear to come from
the outside as a form of possession, or from the inside,
as a form of projection' [1]. Both novels explore this
doubleness, between and within characters.
In Jane Eyre, the character of Bertha Mason can
be viewed as both an external double and a projected
double to Jane herself. Jane is full of vengeful, raging
ire, (of which her name is indicative), and can thus find
her literal double in Bertha. Her ire first manifests
itself in the 'red room' scene of the opening chapter,
foreshadowing the aggression which Bertha is to act out
later. The 'fiend-like' Jane is threatened with being 'tied
down' in 'bonds' (p7) if she will not submit to her
oppression, just as Bertha is tied down after her attack
on Rochester, her patriarchal oppressor. While Jane is
described as 'a mad cat' (p7), the fully-realised
madwoman we are told, flew at Mason and 'worried [him]
like a tigress.' (p253).
Jane's battle for acceptance within the patriarchal
prison in which she lives, however, necessitates a
suppression of this anger. It is this stifling of her
selfhood which generates the projected double, which will
later actually emerge from Jane's psyche into a
materialised separate entity - the stereotype of female
madness. Bertha becomes the perpetrator of Jane's
impulses, acting out the hidden rage which burns fiercely
within her.
In Lowood, through the pacifying influences of Helen
Burns and Miss Temple, Jane acquires restraint. However,
this passivity can only be borrowed, as both women
represent a desired selfhood which Jane can never quite
reach. As with her cousins, Mary and Diana, Jane's
selfhood 'dovetailed' (p423), with them, never quite
combining in a true duality. Although Jane wishes to be
like the virtuous Miss Temple and the spiritual Helen
Burns, she cannot 'comprehend [the] doctrine of endurance'
(p61). Instead, she becomes Helen's dark-double in the
same way that Bertha is hers, acting out the rage of the
oppressed, marginalised, orphan. When Helen is mistreated
by the harsh Miss Scatcherd, Jane relates - 'the fury of
which she was incapable had been burning in my soul all
day.' (p83).
In Thornfield the revenging-double takes on its strongest
form. It is during her reverie of longing to transcend
the prison of femininity - which is 'too rigid a
restraint, too absolute a stagnation' (p128) - and become
part of the symbolic male world from which she is
excluded, that Jane hears the mad laugh of Bertha. Her
only relief from such oppressive thoughts, we are told 'was
to walk along the corridor . . . backwards and forwards',
just as later she will be confronted with her own
external double as she '[runs] backwards and forwards' in
her literal prison (p352). Although the patriarchal
forces are more subtle at Thornfield, they are far more
insidious. For through her intimacy with Rochester Jane
suffers the trepidation of a dissolution of selfhood. She
says of him fearfully, he is 'an influence that quite
mastered me - that took my feelings from my own power and
fettered them in his' (p207). As Gilbert and Gubar point
out, it is after Rochester's sadistic attempts to gain
mastery over Jane's emotions, by making claims of love
for Blanche Ingram, that Jane is woken up by the screams
in the attic, as Bertha physically attacks Mason.
Although Jane doesn't openly rage at Rochester's
behaviour, her secret double revolts. This double is both
an external and a projected double; and thus the
patriarchal house with its imprisoned madwoman is
symbolically the house of Jane's body, with the madwoman
in the attic of her mind. Consequently, through her
double-self in Bertha, Jane must burn the house in order
to be free of her 'demon rage' [2]. Both Bertha and the
Bertha within her must be destroyed.
After Jane's acceptance of Rochester's marriage proposal
her fears intensify and find release through her
subconscious. As little Adele, the external double of the
orphan child, whom Jane perceives as an - 'an emblem of [her]
past life' - sleeps soundly beside her, Jane dreams her
recurrent dream of the projected orphan double (the 'baby
phantom'). This unwanted apparition symbolises Jane's
past self haunting her, and it cannot be exorcised until
her own dark-double acts out its own self-destruction,
burns down the patriarchal house of Thornfield and
revenges the orphan's plight. Indeed, in her dream her
haunting alter-ego rolls from her knee at the very point
of this destruction.
As Jane dreams about this intense action, her external
double finally materialises in the figure of Bertha Mason.
Jane sees her double face-to-face in the mirror as if it
were her own: 'At that moment I saw the reflection of the
visage and features quite distinctly in the dark oblong
glass' (p340). This image is a reflection of the incident
in the 'red room', where Jane experiences the terror of
confronting her own double for the first time. She
perceives this double to be a ghost of her own
substantial self, (just as her own projected double
Bertha is later rumoured to be a ghost).
the strange little
figure there gazing at me, with a white face . . .
and glittering eyes of fear moving where all else was
still, had the effect of a real spirit (p10).
Rhys's use of the
mirror in Wide Sargasso Sea, to symbolise the
duality of the self, can be seen to parallel Bronte's.
Antoinette, whilst looking in the mirror, recounts 'the
girl I saw was myself yet not quite myself' (p147). The
two selves - the reflected self and the 'real' self - are
separated from each other. Antoinette relates that when
she 'was a child and very lonely [she] tried to kiss her
[her own reflection]. But the glass was between us - hard,
cold' (p147). Self-wholeness is prevented by a looming
solid wall. As Coral Howells avers, 'it is the separation
of the mirror which is operative, not the conjunction of
self and image' [3]. The entities of selfhood, are thus
doubly imprisoned in the world of reality, and the world
of the mirror, which is itself a kind of chamber - 'a
mysterious enclosure in which images of the self are
trapped like diverse parchments' [4]. It has depth and a
negation, which is itself paradoxically an actuality. In Jane
Eyre also, little Jane whilst looking in the mirror
relates: 'All looked colder and darker in that visionary
hollow than in reality.' (p10).
Gilbert and Gubar point out further that the use of the
mirror itself, (the impenetrable wall of separation), in
women's writing can be seen to represent patriarchal
judgement. Indeed, Rhys in Wide Sargasso Sea, illustrates
how Antoinette's identity is so completely diminished
through patriarchal oppression that when she looks in the
mirror she does not recognise her own reflection:
It was then that I
saw her - the ghost. The woman with streaming hair.
She was surrounded by a gilt frame but I knew her. (p154).
Antoinette does not
realise that what she sees is a reflection of her
deteriorated selfhood; for her selfhood has undergone an
irretrievable split.
Rhys's great achievement in her re-writing of the Bronte
text is her creation of an external double to the
madwoman, which transforms the bestial Bertha into an
individual woman who has been 'othered' by imperialistic
and patriarchal oppression [5]. Rhys gives Antoinette a
voice, and restores her humanity. Her madness is shown
throughout the novel to be a reaction to oppression,
rather than congenital, as the novel Jane Eyre implies. Rhys illustrates the injustice of Rochester's
assumption that the mother's madness must inevitably be
passed on to the daughter. Furthermore she illustrates
how Rochester himself forces Antoinette to become this
double of her mother. For in Wide Sargasso Sea Rochester's rejection of Antoinette is the final straw in
her isolated, painful, emotionally-deprived life, which
causes her to adopt an exact mirroring of her mother's
expression, (a frown - 'deep as if it had been cut with a
knife') which is symbolic of despair. Like her mother,
Antoinette suffers a breakdown of selfhood, which allows
Rochester to label her 'Bertha'; the stereotype of
madness created by patriarchal society. The transition of
the free-spirited Creole girl, who had 'the sun in her' (p130),
to the bestial Bertha is the chilling metamorphosis which
leads us through suspended time back to the other novel - Jane Eyre.
This passage from one text to another is ingeniously
enacted by Rhys through a series of dreams, which merge
into a circular pattern of enclosure from which
Antoinette cannot escape. The first of these three dreams
occurs after Antoinette's literal separation from Tia.
Tia is what Antoinette wishes to be - her projected
double - strong and resilient ('fires always lit for her,
sharp stones did not hurt her bare feet.' (p20). Their
separation is as painful to Antoinette as a splitting of
the self. The first dream, with its threatening 'heavy
footsteps' of 'someone who hated [her] . . . coming
closer and closer' (p23), anticipates what the
progression of the dream will carry her to: a division of
the most extreme kind - madness. This lurking mad-double
follows Antoinette through her transition into maturity
and throughout the novel.
Tia too, as 'her own dark double' [6] remains
symbolically with her. Tia acts out Antoinette's own rage
and grief (which her name - Tia - symbolises), but from
the other side of the mirror of racial division. Tia
throws a stone at Antoinette which hurts her face, but as
though it is happening to her image in the mirror, she
doesn't feel it. The tears on her double's face mirror
the blood on Antoinette's - 'It was [she says] as if I
saw myself. Like in a looking glass.' (p38). To join her
own dark double Antoinette must act out her vengeance and
destroy Bertha, the 'othered' woman, and the patriarchal
house which is imprisoning her.
Antoinette's marriage is the culmination of this enforced
literal oppression, and the second of her symbolic dreams
anticipates it. The mysterious man of the dream, the
prophetic figure of Rochester, leads her into this prison
of unreciprocated love, (as Rochester will later do with
his false protestations of love and safety - his
immaculate 'performance'). It is when she is trapped in
her literal prison that Antoinette will have her final
dream. In it she must jump off the roof of the attic back
into that past where her identity lies and join with her
projected double, Tia, who 'was there . . . beckon[ing]'.
It is when she wakes and the dream ends that the decisive
move has been made between the two texts. As Coral
Howells avers, Antoinette's 'going along the passage is
also her journey back into another text, Jane Eyre which is the only place where her history can have its
ending'. [7]
Like that stagnant area of the Atlantic ocean from which
the novel takes its name, the suspended overlap between
the two texts imprisons Antoinette. Although her jump
towards her own projected double is an escape out of the
suspended present into the past, the escape is illusory.
Although in spirit she jumps back into the past, in
reality her jump ends in the smashing of her physical
body at the foot of the patriarchal house. As Coral
Howells says, if you jump back into the past there is
nowhere to jump but to your death - thus 'Antoinette's
moment of authenticity is also the moment of her
destruction'. [8] Tragically she must burn the house with
herself inside it, in order to destroy the patriarchal
house of oppression. The only escape for Antoinette, from
the terrible oppression of patriarchy, is suicide.
In Jane Eyre, however, Jane, after the
destruction of her own dark double, is able to attain
equality and peace, (although admittedly this equality
only exists on the margin of society, in the secluded
Ferndean). What Jane Eyre succeeds in doing, and what
Antoinette does not, is to destroy her demon self - her
raging ire - before it destroys her.
Antoinette and Jane can be seen as external doubles on a
literal level, for they are both marginalised isolated
women in a male patriarchal world. Although the contexts
they live in are a world apart, their experiences are
similar. Both are orphans in the emotional sense. Both,
too, travel from one prison to another as the respective
novels' progress. Antoinette's isolation in the nunnery
and Jane's isolation in Lowood, (where she 'had lived the
life of a nun') become paradoxically safe havens for them.
They both embrace their isolation as a kind of security.
Despite this doubleness, however, the fates take a very
different turn. While Jane learns to survive through the
practice of self control, Antoinette refuses to cry and 'bend'
emotionally as Rochester wishes, and actually breaks her
selfhood.
Rochester and Antoinette are separated by a gulf of
misunderstanding, and in this misunderstanding of each
other's worlds they too can be seen to double each other.
The boundaries thus become blurred between self and other.
Both are trapped in the other's world. Antoinette's
dreams of imprisonment and the footsteps following her in
the forest are a mirror image of Rochester's waking
encounter in the 'hostile', illusory forest. He recounts
'I stood still so sure I was being watched that I looked
over my shoulder.' (p86). The tragedy is that through
their mutual misunderstanding of each other, neither
realises that the following footsteps are the steps of
the other.
Rhys, on a literal level in her rewriting of the Jane
Eyre text, created a double to Bronte's Rochester
which has the effect of subverting our belief in his
innocence in the Jane Eyre text. In an alien
context he is no longer the firm Byronic male without
need for guilt or remorse. In his conversation with
Christophine, stripped of this imperialistic and
patriarchal justification, Rochester realises his own
culpability, if only temporarily. When she chastises him
for his intentional cruelty Rochester's inner voice says
'It was like that . . . It was like that'. But better to
say nothing.' (p127). Through this small glimpse into
Antoinette's world which Christophine has provided him
with, he acquires a momentary recognition of Antoinette's
vindication from guilt and lunacy: 'suddenly,
bewilderingly, I was certain that everything I had
imagined to be true was false. False.'
Rhys furthermore shows that Rochester's cruelty towards
Antoinette is due to a projection onto her of his hate
for his father, and the marriage arrangement which he has
been pushed into: 'They bought me, me with your paltry
money. You helped them do it. You deceived me, betrayed
me' (p139). His anger is the anger of the oppressed. Like
Antoinette he is a victim of imperialistic and
patriarchal oppression. In this too they are doubles, but
they do not recognise their duality.
In Jane Eyre, Jane and Rochester on the other
hand, are true complementary doubles. From their first
moment of meeting they experience a symmetry of thought.
Jane's notions of the 'North of England spirit' (p131)
when she unexpectedly encounters Rochester, mirror his 'unaccountably
[thinking] of fairy tales' (p143). Unlike Antoinette,
Jane feels 'akin' to Rochester, and he too sees in her
his 'equal [and his] likeness'. The slight ludicrousness
of the scene in which the despairing Rochester calls out
to Jane, and receives a telepathic answer, followed by
her frenzied return to him, can be read as a symbolic
illustration of the merging of identity between them; a
duality which crosses not just space and time but also
gender barriers.
Rochester's decline into wildness, as a result of
unreciprocated love, in Jane Eyre, constitutes
another doubleness which crosses the gender boundaries of
the novel. Like the Bertha/Antoinette persona, Rochester
becomes 'mad' when Jane tries to leave him. Jane relates
that 'his voice was hoarse and his look that of a man who
is just about to burst an insufferable bond and plunge
headlong into wild licence'. We are told that Rochester
who 'never was a wild man . . . got dangerous' after Jane
left him (p516). He too has a mad double hidden away; a
demon rage that comes out when he is thwarted.
Miller points out that 'there is a popular duality which
claims that there is no such thing as character, that
human beings are a flux, and a sum of their changes,
chances and contradictions' [9]. Certainly, an
exploration of the layered doubleness of Wide
Sargasso Sea and Jane Eyre reveals that the
doubleness of selfhood can exist across all boundaries,
and that we all have a double life lurking within us.
Bibliography:
Gilbert and Gubar. A Dialogue of Self and Soul: Plain
Jane's Progress. (in The Madwoman in the Attic).
Coral Ann Howells. Jean Rhys - The madwoman comes out of
the attic - Wide Sargasso Sea.
Miller, Karl. Doubles: studies in Literary History
References:
1. Karl Miller. Doubles. Studies in Literary History (Oxford
University press 1985) p416
2. Gilbert and Gubar The Madwoman In the Attic - 'A
Dialogue of Self and Soul: Plain Jane's Progress' p349
3. Coral Ann Howells Jean Rhys 'the madwoman comes out of
the attic' p115
4. Gilbert and Gubar The Madwoman in the Attic p343
5. In Wide Sargasso Sea Rhys's re-writing of the
unquestioned imperialism of Jane Eyre from the point of
view of the white Creole woman, is central to an
understanding of the novel. Although space limits an
exploration of this issue within the essay, it must be
noted that colonialism in the Rhys text can be seen as
another double - the 'other side' of the imperialistic
assumptions of Jane Eyre.
6. Coral Howells p121
7. Coral Howells p122
8. Coral Howells p121
9. Miller p47
© Liz Lewis, December 2001
|