LITERATURE

Postcolonial Classics: Colonisation and Control in ‘Jane Eyre’

Is ‘Jane Eyre’ guilty of upholding imperialist ideologies?

As a lover of literature, there is no greater delight for me than getting cosy beside a fire and enjoying the eloquent and poetic prose of Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. A novel which I have always cherished lovingly at heart, its verses continue to grace and adorn my world. To me, Jane is not simply a character of fiction, but a vehicle of Brontë’s profoundest spiritual desires. Indeed, as the illustrious novelist herself declares:

“the human heart has hidden treasures, in secret kept, in silence sealed”.

Since its publication in 1847, Jane Eyre has long been recognised as a feminist critique of Victorian Britain. Since the advent of postcolonialism, however, its racial politics have been debated by both critics and readers alike.

As a novel written during the British colonial era, contemporary debates on Jane Eyre have moved to approaching it as both a tale of feminist orientalism and imperialism. It is important to note that a reading of Jane Eyre in the modern day requires an awareness of the predominant racial attitudes that shaped colonial Britain.

As Indian critic, Gayatri C. Spivak, remarks:

“It should not be possible to read nineteenth-century British literature without remembering that imperialism […] was a crucial part of the cultural representation of England to the English”.

In order, then, to determine whether or not Jane Eyre is guilty of upholding imperialist ideologies, let us briefly analyse Jane’s side of the story.

A victim of oppression: Jane as the “Rebel Slave”

Bertha Mason’s silence is often brought up as a topic of controversy in debates on Jane Eyre.

Some critics have pointed out how her imprisonment in Rochester’s attic reflects the extent to which Brontë refuses Bertha a voice. This is a valid point as Bertha — a marginalised Creole woman — is never given the opportunity to speak; however, such a point overlooks Jane’s childhood oppression.

As a poor orphan girl, Jane’s childhood at Gateshead is an oppressed and troubled one, during which she is often subject to unjust punishments at the hands of her tyrannical Aunt Reed. Her maid, Abbot, wastes no time in reminding her that she is “less than a servant” (15) and Mrs. Reed — in her efforts to silence her — informs Jane that she does not care for “cavillers or questioners” (9). Jane is repeatedly silenced and rendered powerless with rarely an opportunity to speak out against her mistreatment.

Mrs. Reed, through her slave-like treatment of Jane, assumes the status of coloniser which is reflected most pointedly in her command to Jane in the red-room:

“It is only on condition of perfect submission and stillness that I shall liberate you” (21).

As the abandoned chamber of her late uncle, the red-room serves as a prison for Jane whenever she fails to obey her social superiors. This parallel to Bertha’s imprisonment in Rochester’s attic indicates how Jane is as much a victim of oppression as Bertha is. In this way, she becomes Jane’s alter-ego or “Other”.

As critic Nancy Pell observes, Jane’s ability to “grasp the injustice of her punishments” is what essentially leads to her awareness of the inferior position she holds. This awareness is further demonstrated during a quarrel with her abusive cousin, John Reed, in which she likens him to the Roman emperors and declares him to be “like a slave-driver” (13). This can be seen too when she is taken away to the red-room and brands herself a “rebel slave” (15).

As a rebellious character, it is evident that Jane refuses to surrender to her oppressors.

Historical Rebellions: Jane as “Guy Fawkes”

Throughout the novel, Jane is notorious for her rebellious behaviour.

Bessie and Abbot liken her to the infamous Guy Fawkes at one point, describing her as an “ill-conditioned child […] scheming plots underhand” (31). Here, Jane’s character is illustrated in light of a major British historical event, which — as Pell notes — suggests that Jane’s silent struggle “has significant historical implications”. Her struggle represents something beyond her private life and which connects her to the history of her country.

The British monarch, Charles I, is also brought up as a topic of rebellion. After a lesson on his reign, Helen declares to Jane: “I like Charles — I respect him — I pity him […] his enemies […] how dared they kill him!” (68). Jane, however, does not share Helen’s royalist values or the sympathy she holds for those whom she views as her oppressors.

Rather, as Jane passionately declares:

“If people were always kind and obedient to those who are cruel and unjust, the wicked people would have it all their own way: they would never feel afraid, and so they would never alter, but would grow worse and worse. When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should — so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again” (68).

In this scene, Jane condemns the abuse of political power, advocating instead for the Old Testament idea of retributive justice. Derived from early Babylonian law, Lex Talionis or the Law of Retaliation is present in both Biblical and Mosaic law: “If any harm follows, then you shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth”. Jane’s words that one must “strike back very hard” in response to unjust treatment echoes the age-old Biblical principle.

Having been cruelly treated by the Reeds throughout her childhood, Jane cannot fathom Helen’s sympathy for her oppressors. As she avows: “I must resist those who punish me unjustly” (69).

By refusing to accept the abuse of her oppressors — and by rejecting Helen’s apathy towards injustice — Jane resurrects the rebellious ire of Guy Fawkes.

Colonial Control: “The Sultan and the Slave”

Jane’s subordinate position thus allows her to sympathise with the oppressed and the colonised.

At one point, Jane compares her relationship with Rochester to that of a “sultan [and] a slave” (310). This leads into a lively discussion on the slavery of the Ottoman Empire, during which Jane continues to reject Rochester’s slave-like treatment of her, exclaiming: “I will not be your English Celine Varens” (311). Though it can be argued that their relationship is a far cry from the abuse Jane is subject to by the Reeds, the dynamics between them nonetheless imitate that of a master and a slave.

Interior decoration in the novel is also used as a means to signal Jane’s subordinate position. At Gateshead, there is an abundance of mahogany furniture present in the red-room. Jane describes “massive pillars of mahogany” that support the bed and notes the “darkly polished old mahogany” of the wardrobe (17). On the other hand, the children of Lowood School dine at “great deal tables” (52).

In her astute analysis of interior decoration in the novel, Elaine Freedgood explains how the two woods, mahogany and deal, were one of the two “great[est] class markers” present in Victorian fiction. Mahogany — an expensive wood imported from the West Indies — represents the wealth of the Reeds. Deal, being a much cheaper wood, represents the poverty of the Lowood children.

Thus, Jane’s imprisonment in a room furnished with the Reeds’ profits from the Atlantic slave trade further marks her as a victim of oppression, not a villain.

But though Jane may have been a victim of oppression in her childhood, Freedgood argues that her imperialist roots become more apparent later on as an adult. For one, she notes how Jane refurnishes both Moor House and Ferndean Manor using the colonial inheritance gifted by her late uncle.

Freedgood then goes on to compare the unfurnished spaces Jane inhabits to the “blank spaces” on the maps of Empire; she concludes that the very idea of empty space “invites the exercise of habitation as a demonstration of power”. In other words, just as British colonisers exercised their authority in dominating uninhabited land, so Jane exercises her authority in furnishing uninhabited rooms.

Freedgood puts forward an interesting case here, placing Jane in the position of a coloniser as opposed to the colonised. I would, however, argue that Jane’s refurnishing of Moor House using her colonial inheritance simply stems from a wish to share her good fortune with her cousins.

By the same token, Jane’s desire in exercising power and control does not stem from imperialist inclinations, but from an oppression rooted deep in her childhood and a longing for independence.

Is Jane Eyre guilty, then, of upholding imperialist ideologies?

My brief analysis has demonstrated that it is not. Though certainly guilty of racial discrimination through its treatment of Bertha, the novel’s heroine is not an imperialist at heart.

Jane’s philosophy is fundamentally anti-imperialist, as shown in her ability to empathise with the slaves of the Roman Empire, the Ottoman Empire, and those of the British Empire. Her rebellious nature is a testimony to her oppression; Jane is not a villain but a victim of oppression.

Reading Jane Eyre in the modern day will continue to be controversial, but taking the time to appreciate both sides of the coin should hopefully encourage more nuanced literary discussions.

Works Cited

Bell, Currer, ‘Evening Solace’, The Dublin Saturday Magazine 2, 84 (1867), 121–122.

Bennett, Andrew and Nicholas Royle, An Introduction to Literature, Criticism and Theory, (United Kingdom: Taylor & Francis, 2016).

Brontë, Charlotte, Jane Eyre, (London: Penguin, 2006).

Exodus, 21:22–25.

Freedgood, Elaine, The Ideas in Things, (Chicago University Press, 2006).

Pell, Nancy, ‘Resistance, Rebellion, and Marriage: The Economics of Jane Eyre’, Nineteenth-Century Fiction 31, 4 (1977), 397–420.

Spivak, Gayatri C., ‘Three Women’s Texts and a Critique of Imperialism’, Critical Inquiry 12, 1 (1985), 243–61.

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