Mrs. Elliott
AP English Literature
22 October 2008
The veiled monster: Women in 19th Century Literature
Women have always held an uneasy place in 19th century literature: on one side revered as a beacon of virtue amidst darkness, as exemplified in the female protagonists in Dracula and Frankenstein; and on the other side, seen as terrible monsters when they have relinquished that virtue, seen in Dracula’s female vampires and She’s Ayesha. Nowhere else is this duality of femininity in literature emphasized more than in the novel Jane Eyre. There is the docile and subdued Jane Eyre, guided by her morals and ideals, and there is the crazed Bertha Mason, unrestrained and full of malevolence. At first, one is tempted to quickly designate Jane as the truer vision of women and designate Bertha as a mere monster. The main male character, Rochester, who defines both women’s life so radically certainly does, telling Jane “To the clear eye and eloquent tongue, to the soul made of fire, and the character that bends but does not break—at once supple and stable, tractable and consistent—I am ever tender and true” (Bronte 330) while speaking of Bertha Mason in less enamored tones “Her character ripened and developed with frightful rapidity; her vices sprang up fast and rank. What a pygmy intellect she had, and what giant propensities…Bertha Mason, the true daughter of an infamous mother!” (Bronte 390) However, how they relate to society, and how society has labeled the two figures and their actions over the years has blurred the roles of angel and monster. Who is the true monster, and who, if any, is the angel? And who is the true victim? Ultimately, although male-dominated society in the form of Rochester tries to separate Bertha Mason and Jane Eyre from each other, something seen in both literature and in 19th century society, they are simply different sides of the same coin: both are halves of what ultimately makes up a true woman—neither angel nor demon—a human being. Perhaps even the monstrous, devouring, side of femininity so feared by masculinity is not the true beast, but it is the society that depends on such repression of its members own human nature that is the true monster.
At the time of Jane Eyre, one of the ruling social ideas’ concerning women was the ideology called the Cult of Domesticity, which stated simply that the woman’s place was in the home, and that due to her fragile nature, intellectual pursuits and professions were unhealthy for her. Rather, she should focus on childbearing and taking charge of the domestic sphere, guiding men with the four ideal characteristics of femininity: piety, domesticity, purity, and submissiveness. One of the problems therefore in typecasting Eyre as the angelic side to Mason, the acceptable feminine counterpart for society is that Eyre rejects much of the ideas above. She passionately declares that “Women feel as much as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; and it is narrow-minded to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings…It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.” (Bronte 137) Eyre is not particularly filled with domesticity or religious piety, and even scornfully rejects the empty forms of religion that society tries to pass onto her in an effort to make her more acceptable to the world. Together with Mason, the symbol of feminine insanity, the two form a united rebellion against such constricting ideals of womanhood—Eyre escapes indoctrination of religious piety as the cult of domesticity would have it, as “an occupation which could be undertaken within woman's proper sphere--the home” (“Cult of Domesticity” par. 8); Mason burns down her prison and exacts her vengeance on her jailor, Rochester. The fact that both have to take fairly drastic measures in their rebellion—physical flight and physical flames—is indicative of how powerful the ideology of the cult of domesticity that bound women was. Indeed, it was part of Western society’s general veiled contempt of women, a series of measures to control the feminine elements in society, by either trapping her on a pedestal or branding her as a monster fit for chastisement. “At the beginning of the century, women enjoyed few of the legal, social, or political rights that are now taken for granted in western countries: they could not vote, could not sue or be sued, could not testify in court, had extremely limited control over personal property after marriage, were rarely granted legal custody of their children in cases of divorce, and were barred from institutions of higher education.” (“Women in the 19th century” p.1) This was the gilded cage for women, and in other novels, the women who try to escape it suffer worse fates than Eyre or Mason. In Dracula, the main female protagonist Mina described as “That wonderful Madam Mina! She has a man’s brain—a brain that a man should have were he much gifted—and a woman’s heart.” (Stoker 274) is alone targeted by the monster she and her male compatriots hunt, and in the ensuing chase to kill the monster and redeem Mina’s soul, she is “firmly positioned in the appropriate place for such a ‘sweet, sweet, good, good woman’: she ends up, far more importantly, full of ‘sweetness and loving care’” (Byron 19) Ultimately, despite Mina’s abilities—which are designated by society as masculine, and henceforth unusual in a woman—she is firmly pushed back by a society of men, by the author himself to a feminine role, namely the passive role in which the woman was to be protected because of her innate frailty. However, if actions are to speak for anything, the ideas of the cult of domesticity even early on in Victorian society was not foolproof, nor could it be impressed forever on the feminine population. The novel Jane Eyre is a refutation of that idea, from the ideas and actions the female characters take, to the actions of the author, Charlotte Bronte, daring to publish such a novel at a time when female intellectualism was discouraged because it was commonly believed that any strain of a woman’s intellectual capacity would affect her physical and mental health.
Feminine monsters have a special hold on 19th century horror in literature. Viktor Frankenstein created his male beast, and fled from it, but tore apart the female beast in a fit of moral duty to society. Count Dracula is merely stabbed to death with knives, while his female vampires are staked through the heart and have their heads cut off. And Bertha Mason dies the most violent death of any in Jane Eyre, falling from the flames and dashing her brains out. What is it about female monsters in particular that inspires such horror in masculine 19th century readers? Probably in that after such tight cosseting and controlling of these creatures, these “servile wombs”, there still lurks the untamable, the wild in all humans hearts that ultimately separates the mortal from the angelic. Female monsters held so much latent terror on their audiences because this was repressed femininity’s answer to such rigid controls and systematic helplessness—vengeance and evil. They are completely cut off from woman’s role in society, being the evil completely repressed and repulsed by 19th century society. In general, they tend to reject the ideals of the cult of domesticity in every way—demonic, strong, sexually powerful and aware, and with the ability to outlive their male antagonists, taking from examples set by Bertha Mason, the female vampires of Dracula, and the ancient enchantress of She. However, the repression and polarization of such feminine characteristics ultimately unbalances society. Jane Eyre only fully returns to Rochester when he is properly humbled and made feminine, castrated, as it were. She in herself is not empowered that would make her on par with Rochester—Bertha Masons strengths such as righteous rage of the repressed or strength equal to Rochester. Instead Rochester himself must be planed down to be equal to her, and thus the two live, far from society itself that would change that equality. In a way, Jane Eyre the figure of the cult of domesticity is a monster in herself to society, not empowering her peers but living in their weaknesses even at her best.
In the end, despite the very polarized images 19th century literature depicts of femininity—of it either being angelic or monstrous—underneath its surface of authority on women, is betrayed an almost frantic anxiety. The anxiety of repression, the anxiety of unequal male-female relations that was rapidly changing especially at the end of the century.
Works Cited
Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre. Evanston: McDougal Littell, 1847.
Byron, Glennis. Introduction. Dracula: a Victorian novel. By Bram Stoker. New York:
Broadside, 1998. 16-25.
Shelly, Mary. Frankenstein. New York: Broadview, 1818.
Stoker, Bram. Dracula. New York: Broadview, 1897.
Welter, Barbara. “The Cult of True Womanhood.” The Cult of True Womanhood. (1966) 24
24 October 2008.
<http://www.pinzler.com/ushistory/cultwo.html>
“The Cult of Domesticity and True Womanhood defined.” True Womanhood. 24 October 2008.
<http://www.library.csi.cuny.edu/dept/history/lavender/386/truewoman.html>
“Women in the 19th Century.” Feminism in Literature. 24 October 2008.
