"Come Baby find me,
Come Baby remind me
Of where I once begun;
Come Baby show me,
Show me you know me,
Tell me you're the one....
It's like my whole life never happened
When I'm with you, as if I've never had a thought;
I know this dream It might be crazy,
But it's the only one I've got...."

(Bob Dylan, "Emotionally Yours")

     Each of us carries within us the seed of a unique plant. When circumstances conspire to caringly nourish that seed in the manner most appropriate to its true nature-- circumstances which, sadly, are as rare as they are fortunate--the germ of our original selves is likely to flourish. When, however, this tender seed receives attention which is insufficient or antithetical to its essential inclination, growth is inevitably blighted in some way. Weaker or more sensitive seedlings may wither outright; others will be irreparably stunted. Stronger plants may yet grow to imposing heights, but they will be bent and twisted at the places where their needs were unmet, and may well feel eternally compelled to somehow loosen the knot of those deforming deprivations, so as to come closer to their originally intended shapes: Jane Eyre and Rochester are two such plants; driven by an indomitable will to find and follow their essential selves, they discover in each other a vital key to the realization of that end.
     As every conscientious parent knows, a child needs both roots--love and security--and wings--belief in, and encouragement of, his autonomy--in order to mature. While gifted with the latter--the drive for self-realization previously mentioned--Jane and Rochester have been severely deprived of the foundation of the former. They are both outsiders. The identities they have succeeded in forging for themselves thus have a quality of rare integrity, for they primarily have come from within, not from the outer prompting to please and emulate others. At the same time, these characters lack the sense of security and connectedness which is the vital prop of such gifts. When the two meet, that "mysterious chemistry [which] usually links partners who are virtually psychological twins" (Napier and Whitaker, The Family Crucible, p. 116) enables them to quickly recognize their kinship, the great strength and intense neediness both share. The bond forged between them serves as a dual link for both--back to the sense of belonging which both lacked In their most impressionable years, and forward to the recognition and realization of their individual true selves.
     That one must frequently go back in order to move ahead is a principle well known in both religion and psychology. In Judaism, the word teshavah means both repentance and return. Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, an early nineteenth century sage, stresses the theme of "descents" and "ascents": Each time one wishes to rise to a new stage of spiritual development, one is generally forced to descend first, in order to reclaim the "lost sparks" of potential holiness buried in the "excrement" of prior confusion and misdeeds (Nachman of Breslov, M'Shivath Hefesh). The radical psychotherapist R. D. Laing calls this process "regression" and "progression": If the schizophrenic wishes to spend hours staring at a blank wall, well, then he should be encouraged to do so; he will eventually break through; after all, when Zen monks do it it's called the search for enlightenment (R. D, Laing, The Voice of Experience).
     In many ways, Jane appears to be further advanced than Rochester in this inner work of regression/progression. In part, this may be due to the early spiritual guidance of the saintly Helen Burns. We see evidence of Jane's increased maturity and compassion in the objective, forgiving way she re-encounters, and masters, those demons of her childhood, the Reeds. Jane has apparently come far in healing the wounds of her old bitterness and anger; this letting go of old grievances is essential if she is to move on and grow. Other events and characters in this novel similarly test Jane's ability to confront situations reminiscent of childhood conflicts, where she must weather a threatened loss of self in order to emerge with that self chastened, strengthened and renewed. During the three days she spends homeless and hungry after fleeing from Rochester, she re-experiences the utter aloneness and rootlessness of her early years yet retains her faith in G-d's will; rescued by the Rivers family, she is rewarded by Providence with the elevating discovery of a true kinship--in blood as well as spirit such as she has always longed for but never before known.
     Her relationships with both Rochester and St. John Rivers involve Jane in the regression of sexual self- surrender, threatening the immersion of her hard-won identity in theirs. Her refusal to be Rochester's pseudo-wife constitutes Jane's triumph in her most crucial spiritual test, as she makes the wrenching choice between her idolatrous love for him and her belief in G-d. Though her bond with Rochester provides her hardest trial, it also gives her the clarity and strength to successfully avoid what would have been another, probably fatal, snare to her self development--the marriage proposal of St. John Rivers. St. John, too, is stamped with an inviolate integrity of self, but he sees Jane solely as an instrument for his own ends and acknowledges only those parts of her nature which dovetail with his own designs. It is because she has experienced Rochester's sincere, if flawed, love and appreciation, that Jane is able to recognize the inadequacy and destructiveness of this proffered bond.
     Rochester, while yearning for what is good, honest and pure, and attracted to those redemptive qualities in Jane, must overcome the hubris and narcissistic self-indulgence which has goaded him into self-idolatry, placing the gratification of his own desires above the will of G-d. In his regressive flirtation with Blanche Ingram, reminiscent of his initial attraction to Bertha and his various mistresses, he re-confirms his preference for inner, rather than outer, beauty in a mate. His desertion by Jane and the subsequent loss of his arm and eyesight return Rochester to a state of alienation and despair from which only humility and belief in G-d can redeem him. In the end, by placing G-d first in their lives and accepting His chastisement, both Jane and Rochester are rewarded by reunion with one another, their separate salvations of self crowned by the redemption of re- unification on a higher level. The sense of acceptance and belonging which they experience with one another, and the recognition each feels for long-denied facets of the other's true nature--Rochester for Jane's passion, Jane for Rochester's yearning for honesty and goodness--has helped both to re-connect with their original essential selves.
     Because the love between Jane and Rochester--despite its darker, inevitable element of power struggle--is rooted in this recognition of, and respect for, each other's true selves. I found the final felicitous resolution of their relationship to be satisfying and acceptable, and was even able to wink and overlook the improbable and melodramatic route that resolution took (though I do wish it could have been reached without the taint of Rochester's disempowerment). There is something moving and beautiful about these two people, indefatigably reaching for love: like two trees in a dense, dark forest, bending, twisting and inter-twining to reach an aperture of warm, bright sunlight, more beautiful to my mind than their unblemished brothers.

"If I were to marry you, you would kill me. You are killing me now." Jane Eyre p. 415)
"Oh, it is killing me, --it is killing me, all this!" Hedda Gabler p. 63)

      Charlotte Bronte's novel Jane Eyre and Henrik Ibsen's play Hedda Gabler were written within fifty years of each other in the late 1800s. Both Jane and Hedda exist within the same social contexts. They are women of the middle class in European cultures. The fact Jane is penniless through much of the novel does not exclude her from the middle class. Jane and Hedda's experiences, education and values all belong to the middle class. Therefore it should be no surprise their words echo. In detail and outcome their stories are different. However, it is the constraints of the same social conventions which drive their different destinies. It is the same confusion of social convention with morality and spirituality that pains both their existences. Confusing social convention with legal, moral, and religious codes of conduct is a phenomena not confined to the 19th century. It is this same confusion that created Jim Crow Laws, anti-gay legislation and fuels the fire of the abortion rights debate.
      Social conventions of the 1800's did not allow women of the middle class to live independently. With few exceptions women moved from father's household to husband's household. It was the father's prerogative to arrange a suitable marriage. In truth there might be a carefully selected few to choose from, but any unauthorized selection would hold severe consequences for both men and women.
      Jane Eyre's mother was disowned because she chose to marry an "unapproved" man. Jane would suffer because of this transgression, which occurred before she was even born. After being orphaned, Jane lives with her Aunt Reed. She is continually reminded she is a dependent and is unloved by her relations. Although hurtful, these wounds are not mortal. Jane survives life with her Aunt Reed with self-esteem intact, confident her ill treatment was undeserved. From this experience Jane learns a lack social status and funds can make you unlovable.
      Banished to Lowood, a charity school, Jane befriends Helen Burns. Pious and self- disciplined, Helen becomes Jane's spiritual mentor. Helen's fundamentalist faith answers every question if not every prayer. From Helen, Jane learns not think too much of human love. Helen also advises "If all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends" (Jane Eyre p. 72).
      At Lowood Jane also learns she can be judged by her own merits. Mr. Brocklehurst, the administrator, announced to the entire school that by her Aunt Reed's assessment, Jane is a liar. The superintendent, Miss Temple, as well as Helen Burns, rally to Jane's support. They declare Jane, by the conduct they have observed, to be of good character. This opinion is collaborated and Jane is publicly cleared of any wrong doing.
      There are codes of conduct determined by legal, moral or spiritual considerations and those determined by social convention. Jane's experiences in her Aunt Reeds house introduced her to social conventions. Helen Burns introduced her to religious and spiritual guidance. The Mr. Brocklehurst incident introduces her to the concept of an individual morality and integrity. For most, these codes of conduct become enmeshed. Jane Eyre and Hedda Gabler are no exception. Jane, faced with the crises of her life, relies on a blend of these codes to guide her actions.
      Being the exception, Jane had not gone from her father's house to a husband's house. She became a governess, one of the few options available to a middle class young woman. She falls in love with her employer, Mr. Rochester, and agrees to marry him. The ceremony is stopped when it is revealed Mr. Rochester already has a wife. The law will not allow him to have two wives. The mostly widely accepted interpretations of the Bible will not allow him to have two wives. If she were to live with Mr. Rochester as his wife without legal and religious sanctions, social conventions would make Jane despised. Legal, religious, and social codes of conduct do not permit Jane and Rochester to be "together". Jane recognizes this saying: "I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man" (Jane Eyre p. 319). I can not say I doubt her sincerity, but Jane should also mention, that despite Helen's advice, she cares how people regard her. She despises being despised. Helen had warned Jane she cares too much for human love. But, it had been a warning more about Jane's concern for status than romantic love. Helen had meant the words as comfort after Mr. Brocklehurst had slandered Jane before her peers.
      Confusing moral duty with social convention, Jane runs away from Rochester and herself. Yet, Rochester would defy all. Legal, religious and social laws are put aside. Secure in his love for Jane and hers for him, he has the courage (or, audacity) to create his own morality. His code of conduct is self-created. "It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgement--I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion--I defy it" (Jane Eyre p. 258). I see this as an act of courage rather than audacity because, I believe, Rochester is sincere. He is not without his faults, nor is Jane, nor am I. Like Rochester I have defied the religious dogma of my schooling. I have defied the law. I have defied social convention. That is not to say I reject it altogether or go uninfluenced by it, but to say when sincere reflection leads to unsanctioned actions, they should be done. Wasn't that also Helen Burn's advice? "if all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends" (Jane Eyre p. 72). I would add "true" friends.
      Jane and Rochester come to different conclusions, however; one is not right and the other wrong. Individual people must make individual choices. (Yes, my dear reader, this is a Romantic notion.) Legal, moral, religious and social guidelines should be just that, guidelines. If they are adhered to without honest reflection, they lead only to dead ends.
      It is to one such dead end, personified by Mr. St. John Rivers that Jane utters,"If I were to marry you, you would kill me. You are killing me now" (Jane Eyre p. 415). It is from St. John that Jane learns to trust her own feelings and to ignore social and religious conventions. St. John before embarking on a life as a missionary in India has asked Jane to marry him. He admits he does not love her but needs her as his companion in God's work. He is killing Jane because he wishes to make his vocation hers. Jane has looked in her heart and did not see the vocation of a missionary. She believed it to be good and noble work, but not her work. As a missionary Jane's social status would have been elevated. Society would have esteemed her in principle, if not in fact. Jane was willing to become a missionary, however, but not to marry St. A loveless marriage was against her moral convictions. To marry St John was to kill Jane Eyre and to create a Mrs. St. John Rivers. She would lose her identity. She had already lost her pride when she had been reduced to begging after leaving Rochester. Pride gone, Jane became surer in herself, liberated from gratuitous concern for the opinions of others. It was this new found strength, this new blend of moral and spiritual considerations that allowed Jane to reject St. John. To reject the noble and pious life of a missionary as not Jane Eyre's.
      Returning to Rochester Jane's new convictions are not tested. Every impediment is cleared and they are allowed to reunite within legal and religious laws'. They reject society and its conventions and live quietly in a remote location.
      Hedda Gabler has no happy ever after ending. She has so confused social conventions with morality and spirituality as to replace the latter with the former. Social conventions become her religion.
      Tired of single life Hedda enters a loveless marriage. She chooses her mate, George Tesman, for his malleability and his bright future as an academic. While Jane refused a loveless marriage, Hedda viewed it as inevitable. She chafed at the restrictions of social conventions. They were penance, yet there was no atonement. This penance inspired sin.
      The sins at first are small, venial. Hedda insults Tesman's Aunt Juliana by pretending to mistake Aunt Juliana's hat for a servant's. Admitting this transgression, this meanness, she explains: "Well, you see--these impulses come over me all of a sudden; and I cannot resist them" (Hedda Gabler p. 30). Hedda can not resist because she is desperate for a release of her anger. Hedda is outraged at the lack of control she possesses over her life. She considers herself the intellectual, superior to her husband, yet he is the one able to have a career. She thinks she can be happy by manipulating Tesman. She seeks to live vicariously through him. But it is not enough. Hedda is bored, bored, bored!
      Hedda's sins grow in size and number. She lies, she manipulates, she destroys. She is despicable. She traps an old suitor, Eilert Lovborg, an alcoholic, into drinking. To Mrs. Elvsted, Eilert's new romance, she uses "blockhead" and "you little stupid" as terms of endearment. Hedda destroys a manuscript of Eilert's Tesman had deemed brilliant for her own entertainment. In truth Hedda is jealous of Mrs. Elvsted and Mr. Lovborg' relationship. But it is in saying, "I want for once in my life to have power to mold a human destiny" that Hedda reveals her true motivation.
      As Hedda's cancer of the soul grows, she suggests Eilert commit suicide and provides him with her pistol as means to do it. Hedda is so consumed with bitterness and hate there is nothing left to sustain compassion. Hedda's plans fail to execute as she had anticipated. She might have survived this disappointment if Judge Brack did not have proof of her involvement. Judge Brack always tossed sexual advances towards Hedda. Before this she had been able to return his volleys. Now he was taking control of the ball. He threatens Hedda with scandal, of which she is "mortally afraid" (Hedda Gabler p. 70). Hedda falls into despair. She tells Judge Brack: "A slave, a slave then! No I cannot endure the thought of that! Never!" (Hedda Gabler p. 7l). Minutes later Hedda commits suicide.
      Hedda's suicide is a true act of desperation. The social conventions of her time strangled her and killed her before her pistol ever touched her temples. It was before her final encounter with Judge Brack,that Hedda had said to her husband: "Oh, it is killing me,--it is killing me, all this!" (Hedda Gabler p. 63).
      By "all this", Hedda means the powerlessness she feels in the face of social conventions. Hedda did not hate herself only her life. Why didn't she rebel against the restrictions she felt imposed on her by social conventions? Hedda had no other code of conduct. She lacked any spiritual or moral fortitude. Social convention was all she knew, even if it was all she hated. Hedda did try to push the envelope of social conventions but she did not even conceive of breaking out of it, because she knew nothing else. This was her "mortal" sin.
      There can never be a last word on the correct code of conduct. The codes of 1993 are not the same codes of yesterday, nor the same as tomorrow. Social conventions change. Laws change. Interpretations of the Bible vary. But morality stays the same. Morality is that personal blend which creates an individual code of conduct. Looking outside yourself for morality is futile. It can only be attained by an internal synthesis of experiences, knowledge and honest introspection. Jane Eyre discovered this, Hedda Gabler never will.