114 Gender and Space in Rural Britain, 1840–1920
Nature’s work is dark, compared to the clarity of her vision in which ‘Angels
beckoned – God commanded – life rolled together like a scroll – death’s gates
opening, showed eternity beyond’. Nonetheless, Jane’s sublime nature rolls back
to the surface of the text for the last time. As her body fought against starva-
tion, now her spirit resists a similar death. Jane’s nature – her own nature, the
same thread that has always resonated with the sublime natural world – breaks
through: ‘I broke from St. John, who had followed, and would have detained me.
It was my time to assume ascendancy. My powers were in play, and in force’. Jane
is the strongest she has ever been, ‘unscared, enlightened’ and fully self-aware.^45
She has learned what she is able to compromise (her labour, her newfound fam-
ily, even her life), and what she cannot: her spirit and her selfh ood, both of which
are tied both to Rochester and to a sublime nature.
Jane’s darkly sublime aural hallucination diff ers from her previous encounter
with a maternal vision of nature: for the fi rst time, nature calls to her with ‘the
voice of a human being’ – with the voice of Rochester.^46 In Rochester, it seems
possible that Jane can combine her propensity for sublime nature and her need
to fi nd a place for herself; on Jane’s return to him, Rochester is described in natu-
ral terms rather than human ones. Jane says that ‘his hair was still raven black’,
and that his countenance ‘reminded [her] of some wronged and fettered wild
beast or bird, dangerous to approach in his sullen woe. Th e caged eagle, whose
gold-ringed eyes cruelty has extinguished, might look as looked that sightless
Samson’.^47 Th e bird imagery is repeated when Jane approaches, telling him that
‘it is time some one undertook to rehumanise you ... your hair reminds me of
eagles’ feathers; whether your nails are grown like birds’ claws or not, I have not
yet noticed’.^48 With this imagery, Rochester has become more accessible to Jane,
who has fi nally found her own sublime British bird.
In turn, Rochester’s characterizations of Jane are far less troubling than they
once were; his former romantic dream that she was an unreal spirit of nature is now
his nightmare. Jane’s evidence that she is human refl ects her recent experiences: she
describes her humanity and her independence entirely in economic terms:
‘I am an independent woman now’.
‘Independent! What do you mean, Jane?’
‘My uncle in Madeira is dead, and he left me fi ve thousand pounds’.
‘Ah! this is practical – this is real!’ he cried: ‘I should never dream that ... What,
Janet! Are you an independent woman? A rich woman?’
‘Quite rich, sir ...’
‘But as you are rich, Jane, you have now, no doubt, friends who will look aft er
you...?’
‘I told you I am independent, sir, as well as rich: I am my own mistress’.^49Happily, not all traces of romance have dropped out: Rochester still greets Jane
with ‘Oh, you are indeed there, my sky-lark! Come to me’. However, this is fol-