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Emmy Judd

Professor Cherniavsky

English 202

22 October 2018

Much Freedom in an Active Mind

No work of literature exists without context, and Charlotte Brontë’s ​Jane Eyre​ proves no

exception, providing commentary on the tempestuous transition of a society into modernity, from

a nation of customary moral monopoly to one of self-stewardship. In this brief passage, Jane’s

character embodies the contradictions present in her struggle to balance personal autonomy with

social expectation. Her refusal to abandon her own will and simultaneous impulse to acquiesce

motivate her to engage her mind in innovating novel ways to harmonize both. The compromises

and restrictions Jane faces imply that the text cannot originate from a time current readers would

recognize as their own, but the issues Jane grapples with places it on the cusp of modernity in the

early nineteenth century.

Though marriage surely remains the natural path for women to follow, Jane admits that

she laments Miss Temple’s union and subsequent departure as a “loss”, an expression

reminiscent of the character Eliza Wharton’s comment that “marriage is the tomb of friendship”

(Foster 24). Both women push the boundaries of their own age by making the conscious,

rational, yet heretical decision to prioritize other relationships over marriage. Jane distinguishes

herself from Eliza, however, in that her connection to Miss Temple is not so much that of a

friend but a student -- Miss Temple played the role of moral and vocational teacher to Jane

outside the boundaries of social or marital concerns that in the past confined female friendships.
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Now lacking her mentor’s guidance, Jane travels through an interior narrative, mapping the

process of her reckoning with her unmoored state. Though her introspection and moral

self-cultivation emerge as products of modernity, these qualities are not yet obvious or familiar

enough to render their inclusion totally implicit: Jane clarifies to readers at one moment that “I

soliloquized (mentally, be it understood; I did not talk aloud).”

The characteristics of Jane’s self-regulation further illustrate the gradually shifting tides

from tradition towards freedom. Jane looks to the distant mountains with longing, and

claustrophobia sets in as she reflects upon her seclusion from the outside world at Lowood. As in

the days of feudalism, Jane is surrounded by people she knows and largely ignorant of all others

save her unpleasant aunt; she has little concept of anonymous fellow citizens living their lives in

a reality similar to her own, no “imagined community” that Benedict Anderson describes as a

step in the development of modern nations (27). However, though she has not had the seed of

nationalism planted in her psyche, Brontë makes clear that the soil is fertilized with that essential

element of curiosity, which demonstrates her capacity and readiness to imagine these worlds that

exist just beyond her reach.

Eager as she may be to surpass the limits of her sights, Jane is not so naive as to believe

the universe will grant her total agency so easily. Even her thoughts are limited by the white

noise of society’s niceties and rituals of etiquette as her monologue is interrupted first by dinner,

and then by “a prolonged effusion of small talk” on the part of Miss Gryce. Jane’s annoyance at

these superficial obstacles to more pressing matters of her life, as well as the hollowness of “such

words as Liberty, Excitement, Enjoyment,” embodies a modern cynical perception of politeness

as existing in competition with virtue. As etiquette becomes self-regulation of the ​appearance​ of

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virtue rather than of virtue itself, the artistry of theatrical courtesy comes to suggest an

“artificiality of personhood” without true substance, just as belletrists of the early eighteenth

century used words of florid nature without emphasis on meaning or originality of ideas (Warner

134-135). Jane is wary of the exclusive nature of such ostentation and discards them as mere

distractions to the cultivation of her own conscience and conduct.

But even when her reflections remain unimpeded by physical disruptions, they are

stringently governed by ingrained social standards. The education of an orphaned girl represents

tremendous progress, and the fact that Jane rises to become a teacher (to other working class

girls, no less) proves definite movement from a vertically ordered society, where status at birth

determines one’s worthiness to learn, to a horizontally organized one, where a common written

language makes social mobility possible (Anderson 15). However, as Warner suggests in ​The

Letters of the Republic, ​education of the masses serves another purpose: to discourage violation

of social norms by making their restrictions seem natural, “to produce regularity and unison”

within the order of civilization (Warner 129). Jane’s sense of morality, her high-minded

humility, has been incubated in subtle insinuations during her schooling to refrain from desiring

more than her station allows. Jane smothers her ambition because she knows it only as selfish

daydreaming, and meekly downgrades her petition for liberty to a modest entreaty for variety in

her servitude. She recognizes the rightness of this new supplication “because it does not sound

too sweet,” an almost painful reminder that though Jane may technically make her own

decisions, she must align her actions with the values of society in order to remain in the good

graces of the public eye, often sacrificing her own will in the process. She has become so
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accustomed to this practice that she mistrusts her true desires because for her they are

unattainable, instead opting for a goal worthy of a wider audience, for “any one may serve.”

Still, the passage ends on a note of hope as Jane’s cleverness shines through. She

supplants her quest for liberty in favor of a quest for stimulation, and in so doing ensures that her

choices can coincide with her aspirations, if only to a small degree. More importantly, Jane

maintains that the quality of her mind has the power to transcend her circumstances, that she can

mold the dictates of society into terms conducive to achieving her own aims “if only [she has] a

brain active enough.” Jane creates space to construct the life she desires without becoming

ostracized by her community, a feat perceived as impossible at the time of ​The Coquette​.

The passage does not reveal whether or not Jane ultimately succeeds, but regardless of

the outcome, the very concept of self-determination for a woman of modest birth places the text

alongside ​The Coquette​ in the early nineteenth century when such conflicts between individual

choice and cultural expectation existed at the forefront of modern nations. Jane’s emphasis on

friendship, self-discipline, and “real knowledge of life” set her apart from the figure of

domesticity, social conformity, and submissiveness that tradition encouraged women to emulate.

By imagining an independent woman without these qualities who was still exceedingly moral

and responsible, Brontë subverts convention and contributes to expanding the range of

acceptable paths a woman can choose for herself.