Bronte Muse - Essay 1

Women writers have long drawn inspiration from the work and lives of the Bronte family. In this series of posts, headed The Bronte Muse, are three academic essays that explore aspects of their work and also related writings by other authors.

Post-Colonial Analysis of Wide Sargasso Sea

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys is a Post-colonialist revision of Bronte’s Jane Eyre which, as Sara Lodge puts it, “addresses Bronte’s depiction of the West Indies and Rochester’s first wife, challenging the assumptions…” (Lodge, S. 2009).  We shall examine both texts in the light of post-colonial theory, identifying where and how Rhys (with intent) and Bronte (implicitly) incorporate into their novels the voice and perspective of the Eurocentric, hegemonic white male.

Post-Colonial theory examines the impact and legacy of the European colonisation of non-European lands, peoples and cultures.  In particular it analyses a) assumptions of European superiority over non-Europeans and b) the damaging effects of these assumptions on the self-identity of the colonised.  Furthermore it looks at the key role that ‘Representation (ie, the portrayal of stereotypes in literature, art, journalism etc) plays in instilling and perpetuating such supremacist notions.

Of course Rhys incorporates several colonialist voices into her novel, including: that of the un-named husband,[1] a Mr Fraser of Spanish Town (a retired magistrate), and a fictional author, the narrator of a book entitled “The Glittering Coronet of Isles”.   Supposedly published in the early part of the 19th century we can infer that this ‘book’ is written by a wealthy, well-educated, European (probably British) male.  It is a direct product of colonisation, being a kind of Englishman’s guide to survival in the West Indies.  Its very title endorses the notion/act of Imperialism – the Caribbean islands are described in metaphorical terms as a “Glittering Coronet”.[2]    From an Imperialist perspective a colonised country only has significance or identity when viewed in relation to the heart of the empire.

The extract ‘reproduced’ in the text is read by the character of ‘Rochester’ shortly after he receives a letter from Daniel Cosway which brings all his barely concealed prejudices and fears concerning race and difference to the surface.  The passage, dealing with the subject of Obeah, a dialectal term for black magic, serves to intensify ‘Rochester’s’ view of the “negroes” (indeed all Caribbean society) as savage, superstitious and irrational.

The ‘author’ to distance himself from the subject matter adopts the language of the educated, white scientist, using Latinate terms such as “malignant”, “propitiated”, “credulous” and “attributed”.  It is the discourse of imperialism, designed to assert superiority and serve the interests of the empire; effecting power over and control of the non-European human subjects.[3]

“…negroes as a rule refuse to discuss the black magic in which so many believe…”
(WSS, part 2, pg 88)

This phrase infantilizes the black people making them appear credulous and childish for believing in magic and superstition.  The white Creoles are, likewise, castigated for their gullibility in attributing “sudden or mysterious deaths” to a “poison known to the negroes…”  From the perspective of the Imperial centre – England – the Creoles are tainted by their centuries old association with the colonies; perceived as exotic, dangerous and contaminated with racial ‘otherness’.  The “negroes” are also, in this ‘extract’, portrayed as untrustworthy and uncivilised,

“They confuse matters by telling lies.” (pg 88)

The use of the third person plural pro-noun “they” clearly categorises the black community as ‘other’ (ie different from the hegemonic, white male), contrasting with nationalistic notions of English virtue such as ‘an Englishman’s word is his bond’.  Not only does this perpetuate a representation of the colonised as deceitful, but also as subversive.  The statement suggests a covert, rebellious, collective act on the part of the “negroes” –and this in turn implies their unpredictable, potentially savage natures.

The author pours scorn on the Creole’s credulity in fearing the Negro poison that “cannot be traced”, yet the entire text plays on such inherent fears, perpetuating stereotypes; namely the view of black people as dangerous, heathen, dealing in their dark arts and hence a threat to civilised, rational society.  Certainly ‘Rochester’ gives the rumour of such a poison credence; it appears to confirm his own suspicions.

The focus in this ‘fictional’ text on “zombies” also belittles the superstitious nature of the “negroes” and yet Rhys (in true post-colonial style) utilises the power and significance of this figure drawn from African/Caribbean culture.  The zombie motif becomes symbolic of Antoinette’s subjugation (physical, mental, spiritual) by ‘Rochester the coloniser’.  However, This subjugation encompasses the whole of Caribbean society; as Laroche points out,

“The history of colonisation is the process of man’s general zombificaiton…The zombie’s state is symbolic of alienation…a spiritual as well as physical alienation; of the dispossession of the self through the reduction of the self (to a mere source of labour).” (Laroche, M. 1976)

Representations, found in ‘books’ such as “Coronet of the Isles” serve not only to perpetuate negative stereotypes of non-Europeans, but to create a sense of division and alienation in their self-identity.  This led not only to a strong sense of inferiority but also to the adoption of the culture and beliefs of the coloniser, which were seen as universal and superior.  Hence Rhys’ portrayal of a character such as Daniel Cosway who “lived like white people” yet refers to himself as “a little yellow rat”.

In Wide Sargasso Sea Rhys is attempting to rework Jane Eyre: the European colonizers writing of history. There is, of course, no acknowledgement in Jane Eyre that English wealth is founded upon slavery; Rochester’s Jamaican fortune and Jane’s Madeiran inheritance, both islands significant in the triangular trade.  England, in stark contrast to the West Indies, is seen as a place of freshness, purity and liberty,

“A wind fresh from Europe blew over the ocean…and the air grew pure…the Atlantic was thundering in glorious liberty…” (Jane Eyre, Chap 27)

Bronte’s representation of the West Indies and of the Creole heiress “Bertha Mason” is alien and exotic,

“I walked under the dripping orange trees of my wet garden…amongst its drenched pomegranates and pineapples…while the refulgent dawn of the tropics kindled around me…” (Jane Eyre, Chap 27)  

“I found her a fine woman…tall, dark and majestic…I was dazzled, stimulated: my senses were excited…” (Jane Eyre, Chap 27)

Yet the alien qualities soon become distinct expressions of ‘otherness’, of moral darkness and danger.  The “fiery West Indian night” racked by Bertha’s screams becomes, as Lodge points out, a vision of hell,

“This life…is hell: this is the air – those are the sounds of the bottomless pit!” (Jane Eyre, Chap 27)

Mad Bertha’s features are unambiguously described in terms of racial difference,

“I never saw a face like it!  It was a discoloured face, it was a savage face…the roll of the eyes and the fearful blackened…lineaments… the lips were swelled and dark…” (Jane Eyre, chap 25.)

Her behaviour is depicted as bestial (inhuman and sexually depraved),

“it grovelled…on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal…”

“...her nature; the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw”

Sara Lodge argues that these “cultural representations reinforce the imperialist map…”  (Lodge, S. 2009).  They justify the aims and endeavours of imperialism – i.e., to impose the old, white, male order via a supremacist ideology.  We must, Lodge continues “understand the imperialist project in which ‘Jane Eyre’, like other nineteenth century novels, is involved.” (Lodge, S. 2009)

While both texts can be read and appreciated separately, together they set up a dynamic.  Jean Rhys’ revision of “Jane Eyre” exposes both the imperialist beliefs implicit in Bronte’s work and the continuing legacy of colonisation in the Caribbean.  It highlights the way in which imported Eurocentric values and power structures have for centuries negatively shaped Caribbean experience and identity.

[1] Although Antoinette’s husband remains nameless throughout the novel, for the purpose of convenience we shall refer to him as ‘Rochester’.

[2] This is loaded with monarchical associations (crowns, realms, spoils), not least being the divine right of kings/emperors to rule what they have, by God’s will, conquered – after all India was referred to as the “jewel” in Queen Victoria’s crown.

[3] After all ideology is embedded within the language, constructing meaning and identity.  The tone is purportedly scientific and detached (in the tradition of Western Rationalism) and appears to treat the “negroes” and their beliefs as an object of scientific study.  But the implication is always of an inferior being observed by a superior

Bibliography

Bronte, Charlotte.  Jane Eyre.  Penguin.

Lodge, Sara.  Reader’s Guide to Essential Criticism: Jane Eyre.  Palgrave MacMillan.

LaRouche, Maximilien.  Exile and Tradition: Studies in African and Caribbean Literature.  Longman & Dalhousie. 1976. NS

Rhys, Jean.  Wide Sargasso Sea.  Penguin Classics. Great Britain. 2000