Women's literature: themes, authors, and critical perspectives

Bertha Mason: Madwoman or Just Mad?

Why, Jane, what would you have?... You will stipulate, I see, for peculiar terms -- what will they be?" only want an easy mind, sir... I shall continue to act as Adele's governess; by that I shall earn my board and lodging, and thirty pounds a year besides. I'll furnish my own wardrobe out of that money, and you shall give me nothing but -- " it is your time now, little tyrant, but it will be mine presently: and when once I have fairly seized you, to have and to hold, I'll just -- figuratively speaking -- attach you to a chain like this" (touching his watchguard).

In this brief, but telling, exchange the reader sees that Jane Eyre, after unwillingly allowing Rochester to buy her some new clothes, has grown uncomfortable with her changing status and imminent heightened dependency on Rochester. He insists she must have six new dresses, which she does not want. She persuades him to purchase only two, but he then announces he will choose them himself. Jane is unwilling to become completely dependant upon him. She does not want Rochester to dress her "like a doll" (p. 297).

She thinks "If I had ever so small an independency, if I had but a prospect of one day bringing Mr. Rochester an accession of fortune, I could better endure to be kept by him now" (p. 297). We can conjecture that Rochester's relationship to his first wife Bertha probably started out in a similar manner -- with attraction, excitement, affection, and generosity. Probably, he bought Bertha all new clothing, too, and lavished gifts upon her. Perhaps Bertha did not feel that her identity was threatened until it was too late, and she was already married to him. In this essay, I will argue that Bertha was not insane, but an oppressed, possibly abused, woman who refused to submit to the societal norms of 19th century patriarchal society.

When we meet Bertha in the story she is nearly always off-stage. She no longer uses language but is heard expressing herself in gurgling, moaning, and demonic laughs. On the night Bertha tries to kill Rochester by setting his bed on fire, Jane hears "a snarling, snatching sound, almost like a dog quarreling." Because Bertha has been so completely silenced and so cannot tell her side of the story, we can only see her through the eyes and behavior of others.

Rodas (2003) suggests that instead of seeing the madwoman as Jane's "alter ego" that acts out Jane's secret fantasies, it would be fruitful to see Bertha as a reflection of her husband Edward Rochester. She points out that Rochester "may be seen as the distorted image of the lunatic" with the same hirsute body, flowing black hair, olive skin, full nostrils, and "flexible looking mouth." Rochester is considered an ugly man and as Rodas points out, "identifies himself with a variety of unpleasant creatures," such as, gnome, ogre, ghoul, and scoundrel. Bertha likewise is continually portrayed as animalistic. It is not just physically that Bertha and Rochester are similar. Their personalities also bear striking similarities. Rochester has a violent and moody disposition and has a history of sexual self-indulgence with several women whom he afterwards found disgusting. Furthermore, he characterizes Bertha as having a "nature wholly alien" to his own, a "cast of mind common, low, narrow, and singularly incapable of being led to anything higher, expanded to anything larger" (p. 333); however, Zonama (1993) suggests that Rochester himself is little more than a despot, "a man who has bought women [and] is willing to become a bigamist."

Rochester attributes his own proclivities to Bertha in what psychologists might call a denial and projection of his own faults onto another ("I am not the evil one -- she is."). These particular characteristics-- sexual appetite, unpredictable moods, and anger -- are particularly intolerable in a Victorian woman. Whereas they could be seen in a man as eccentricity and a mere phase ("sowing wild oats"), to the Victorian mind they are disgusting and revolting in a woman, characteristics which make her "fallen," society's pariah and outcast. Having said this, however, Anderson (2004) points out that "the allegations of Bertha's lacking both temperance and chastity remain unsubstantiated." We have only Rochester's testimony, and he cannot be depended upon to be entirely truthful. In fact, we know he is a liar -- as a potential bigamist, his deceptions are carried to a criminal extent.

If Bertha is not assumed to be Jane's alter ego, then what is the connection between the two? Bertha is inarticulate, imprisoned, and hopeless. Perhaps Bertha represents Jane's future after she marries Rochester in the sham wedding ceremony he has planned (greatbooks.org). Both women have loved Rochester enough to marry him. If Rochester mistreats Jane (and he does), then it is likely he mistreated Bertha as well, although he denies that he was ever cruel to her. His mistreatment of Jane could very well lead to more serious abuse later after they are married and she becomes his "property." Jane has a history of being abused during childhood and likely has issues regarding that abuse, which she has not resolved. Perhaps this is a factor in her attraction to Rochester. It is therefore likely that he will abuse her and that he abused Bertha also. Jane thinks her influence on him will change him and make him a better person. Perhaps Bertha also believed that and failed to bring about any improvement.

When Jane first met Rochester, he evidenced a strong interest in her as a person. He did not ask her whether she could cook, clean, and sew. He wanted to know about her family, listen to her play the piano, and to examine her drawings, which were interesting expressions of her essential selfhood. She has reason, therefore, to believe that he is not interested in her domesticity, but in her intellectual and artistic capacities. Probably, Bertha thought this also, especially since Rochester himself admits "I was dazzled, stimulated; my senses were excited; and being ignorant, raw, and inexperienced, I thought I loved her." Probably Bertha never entertained the thought that Rochester would try to press her into a mould and expect her to act out the ideal Victorian woman.

Welter (1966) argues that middle class Victorian women had to be pious, pure, obedient, and domestic in order to be considered "real women."

Undoubtedly, there were some women who could be described this way -- at least, outwardly -- but probably a good number of women were far more complex. Jane, for example, is pious, pure, obedient, and domestic, but she is also intelligent, independent, talented, wronged, and angry. Rochester interprets these qualities as quirky and cute: "Oh, it is rich to see and hear her!' he exclaimed. 'Is she original? Is she piquant? I would not exchange this one little English girl for the Grand Turk's whole seraglio...'" He doesn't really take her seriously but treats her and speaks to her as though she were an amusing child. Probably, he treated Bertha that way too, at least, in the beginning. Rochester says, "She flattered me, and lavishly displayed for my pleasure her charms and accomplishments. All the men in her circle seemed to admire her and envy me." If Bertha is as intelligent and talented as Jane is, such demeaning treatment would grow more and more annoying and odious as the first blush of romance faded and reality set in. When Rochester discovered Bertha was a person, not "an angel in the house" but a complex and angry human being, capable of rebellion, his "love" turned to hatred. His whole life and reputation in the community were threatened as a result of her rebellion.

Anderson (2004) argues that to be an angry woman in 19th century England was "next door to insanity."

To keep and maintain an "angel in the house" (Martin, 1983) required a pervasive repression and control that women could subvert but never entirely escape. In Jane Eyre containment is seen to be the punishment for openly striking out against oppression. Jane was contained in the red room as a child and later at Lowood, while Bertha is contained in the attic at Thornfield. From this perspective, the red room, Lowood Institution, and the attic at Thornfield are symbols of patriarchal practices that inhibit and oppress women and prevent their liberty. Deborah Logan (1998) states that "Those most subject to 'wrongful confinement,' were women 'who refused to submit to the authority and control' of their husbands." Is this Bertha? Did she refuse to wear the clothing, for example, that Rochester bought for her? Did she dance instead of washing dishes? Did she reject piety? Did she expect to be sexually satisfied? Rochester claims she had "a nature the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw" (p. 343).

Welter (1966) points out that women who engaged in sexual activity beyond duty to their husbands, especially premarital or extramarital, always ended in "madness" in Victorian literature. Did Bertha not subscribe to the "cult of true womanhood" in which a real woman was believed to be without any sexual feelings, to be responsible for the man's sexual behavior, to be religious, obedient to her husband, and to provide a serene haven for him? After all, the man had to do business in a dangerous and corrupt world and needed rest and regeneration in a serene and cheerful household where all his needs and wants were met. Rochester complains, "...I perceived that I should never have a quiet nor settled household..." The ideal Victorian real woman suffers any mistreatment without complaint. She is non-assertive.

It's obvious that Bertha does not fit this role at all and is therefore liable to be labeled "crazy" because she doesn't conform. Waller (2004) discusses sexuality as insanity in 19th century literature and argues that "the rejection of a proper woman's role... is a dangerous undertaking." Thus, Bertha is seen as fallen, degenerate, immoral, and animalistic rather than victimized:

Jane herself feels little empathy for Bertha, and this is striking because from the first pages she demonstrates a hatred of cruelty, repeatedly evokes metaphors of emancipation, and chooses principle over personal gain. Yet although Jane notices Bertha's plight and laments her suffering, she neither dwells on it nor identifies a perpetrator -- madness provides her a category with which to identify suffering without implicating Rochester. Bertha becomes not a victim but an impediment" (Su, 2003, p. 160).

Thus, Bertha Mason's madness is not seen as the product of her situation as a woman and her oppression. The more she struggles for liberty, the more she is contained. And the more she is contained, the angrier she gets. The angrier she gets, the more her "craziness" is substantiated. But she isn't crazy. On the contrary her behavior, though indeed angry, is logical and understandable.

When Bertha comes to Jane's bedroom two nights before the wedding is to take place, for example, she does not behave like a person who is mentally ill. She quietly enters the room. She inspects the bridal veil carefully and then puts it on. She looks at herself in the mirror and sees herself as a bride. Then she removes the veil and tears it in two, throws it on the floor and tramples it. She does not attack Jane, the bride-to-be; thus, one can safely assume it is not a jealous rage or envy that troubles her. The only other explanation is that she sees the veil as a symbol of her marriage to Rochester. Rochester, himself, interprets her behavior that way. What he does not see is that the marital relationship with its demands, restrictions, and controls has ruined her life and stripped her of her identity. Bertha has rebelled against the strictures of patriarchal authority. She can find no real escape. Now she sees that Rochester is about to imprison and drive another woman crazy. Her diagnosis of "mental illness" is, as described by Foucault (1988), really a form of social control. Jane, of course, is "sane," but Donaldson (2002) argues that "even if Jane Eyre should happen to go mad, she will not escape the requirements of restraint..." As Rochester tells Jane: