In Villette and Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë creates protagonists who are markedly strange and isolated people. In both books, their awkwardness in society and difficulty communicating is an ongoing concern. These women are also our storytellers. An isolated and solitary position in the world makes the dual role of protagonist and narrator particularly convincing. This character is able to stand on the fringes of conversations and social encounters, observing and experimenting at the same time. A quality of mystery in the imagery and language of both novels gives Brontë creative freedom in her fantastical plots. The strange psyches of the storytellers create a unique, half-lit environment where the strange events of these stories seem utterly believable. Not only are their strange dispositions perfectly suited to their role as observers, but they are also able to savor freedom through language. Brontë skillfully filters her tales through these voices to draw the reader into her dark world, casting a misty light into the void where the woman standing alone struggles to define herself. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay There is no doubt that Lucy Snowe and Jane Eyre are solitary beings. This quality exists in different forms, but with the same alienating results. As a new student at Lockwood, Jane observes, "So far I hadn't talked to anyone, nor did anyone seem to take me into consideration; I was quite lonely; but I was used to that feeling of isolation; it didn't weigh me down very much." " (Jane Eyre, 59). And Lucy is accustomed enough to loneliness to describe some of its characteristics. She has experienced enough loneliness to conclude that "those living in retirement, whose lives have fallen into the isolation of schools or other walled-off dwellings and monitored, they risk being suddenly and for a long time abandoned by the memory of their life. "friends, inhabitants of a freer world" (Villette, 348). Both of these women lead “retired” lives, in places that are already quite isolated and foreign. Jane moves from a hostile home, through the hardships of a charity school, to the gated Thornfield. Lucy goes from isolation caring for Miss Marchmont on her deathbed, to a foreign land where she initially cannot even communicate, and then to the confined walls and constant surveillance of Madame Beck's school. The nature of their isolation is not purely circumstantial. These women also fought the alienation imposed on them in such contexts. Jane spends her early childhood as an outcast, actively excluded by Mrs. Reed. She is certainly affected by these years spent "always suffering, always intimidated, always accused, forever condemned" (Jane Eyre, 22). Lucy finds herself a lonely Protestant at a Catholic institution, where the students she initially befriends eventually exclude her. “In an unguarded moment,” her various ideals become known and “something – an invisible, undefined, nameless something – [intrudes] between [her] self and these [her] best pupils… the conversation from that moment on [becomes] impracticable" (Villette, 147). This form of alienation is subtle compared to the scene of his first introduction to this world. Lucy faces her new community of students standing alone for the first time, standing for the exam on a teacher's platform. She is not only separated physically, but tortured by the fact that "[her] command of French is so limited" in this moment of "sixty to one" (Villette, 143). Likewise, Jane is forced to be alone on onestool in front of the whole school, his new world, in his first few weeks at Lowood. Just as Lucy's broken French cannot command respect, Jane's new status as an avowed liar convinces her that she will be completely alienated by the doubt that will be cast on anything she might say. The crucial similarity between these scenes is the triumphs of both women. They demonstrate the ability to excel when isolated, forced to face the masses alone. When Jane is "mounted high...now exposed to general view on a pedestal of infamy" (Jane Eyre, 78) her position quickly transforms from terror to strength. The tone of her description reveals her absolute joy in discovering this in herself: "...a girl approached and passed me: as she passed, she raised her eyes. What a strange light inspired them! What an extraordinary sensation that ray conveyed." me!...I mastered the rising hysteria, raised my head and took a firm position on the stool" (Jane Eyre, 78). Jane's position here actually gives her power by setting her apart once she realizes that she does not And in class, once Lucy decides that "it seems[s]...that we can gain command over this wild pack," (Villette, 143) she deftly and confidently takes control of her class, and she soon becomes a popular teacher despite her perceived inadequacy. Although Lucy's struggle is not a childhood trauma like Jane's, it occurs in the childhood of her new life and serves a similar narrative function so early in the stories cannot be ignored. The reader will proceed through the narratives with a clear understanding of the simultaneous pain and strength these women have gained while facing an entire community completely alone they also seem to show in many similar aspects of their characters considered strange. One similarity is an affinity with the night, when they can be truly alone while everything around them sleeps. Lucy finds that she is drawn to an area that "after dark [is] carefully avoided" [Villette, 174] by everyone else in the school. She admits that "from the beginning [she] was tempted to make an exception [to] the rule of avoidance: the solitude, the very darkness of the walk attracted [her]. For a long time the fear of seeming singular [the] distant; but gradually, as people became accustomed to [her] and to [her] habits, and to those shades of peculiarities which were rooted in [her nature]...[she] became a frequenter of this narrow path and cramped." (Villette, 175). These walks are not the only examples of Lucia's comfort in nocturnal wanderings. Her decision to embark on her journey occurs during a "lonely walk through still fields" when "[she] should have trembled in the absence of the moonlight, for [it] is only by the guidance of the stars that [she] has traced the dark path,” but instead draws inspiration from “some new power [the Northern Lights] seem[s] to bring” (Villette, 104). These are two examples among many that place Lucy alone and awake in the solitude of the night. Jane searches for answers even after dark. She decides to leave Lowood while "[sitting] on the bed... [proceeds] to think it over with all [her] might" (Jane Eyre, 100). Later, she hears a phantom voice of Rochester calling to her only after "All the house was silent... The single candle was going out; the room was filled with moonlight" (Jane Eyre, 466). This disturbing visit is perhaps the main reason for her decision to find Rochester, the step that will allow her ultimate happiness. His nights are often filled with strange dreams and during the night he faces strange events andnoises (Jane Eyre, 167-171, 232) that bring her very close to discovering Rochester's secret. The nocturnal element in both characters gives the novels a particularly mysterious tone. The strange events in Thornfield's attic occur under the moonlight, in passages lit by candles. And the presence of the ghost nun in Villette, which seriously affects Lucia's state of mind, relies on the dim light of her nocturnal wanderings. A reader cannot forget the many scenes that occur at night. They are important to the plot and serve as a crucial reminder of the loneliness required and endured by the narrators. It is not simply the silent isolation of insomnia that associates Lucy and Jane with the night. Darkness and mystery seem to call to them, in very similar ways. Both find themselves drawn to the chaos of nature when it rages, particularly under the veil of night. At Lowood, Jane notices that her reaction to nature's fury is very different than the other girls. He looks out towards the growing snowstorm as he realizes he "feel[s]...a strange excitement, and reckless and feverish, I wished the wind would howl more wildly, that the darkness would deepen to blackness and that the confusion increased the clamor" (Jane Eyre, 65). In a parallel moment, Lucy discovers the same strangeness in herself: "One night a storm broke out... It was humid, it was wild, it was pitch black. In the dormitory they gathered around the night lamp... I couldn't go in: Too much irresistible was the pleasure of remaining with the wild, black, thunder-filled hour, singing an ode that language never conveyed to man - too terribly glorious, the sight of the clouds, split and pierced by white and blinding bolts " (Villette, 176). The connection to an environment traditionally considered disturbing and frightening clearly underlines the point. These women are not simply unfairly excluded or excessively alone. They too can recognize that they are unusually happy in strange circumstances. They are, by nature, extraordinary people. They stand out as inherently strange and strong women. And in most societies, certainly the ones described in these books, these are qualities that immediately label them as outsiders. Jane and Lucy don't simply avoid company because they prefer to be alone. This label of "outsider" is not intended to suggest that these women are hostile or antisocial. When left almost entirely alone during the holidays by Madame Beck, Lucy complains: "the days and nights [become] intolerable; a cruel sense of desolation pains my mind; a feeling that would like to break through, rush out, or kill me ..I [want] company, [want] friendship, [want] advice" (Villette, 258). And Jane's disgust with loneliness is evident when she tells St. John "loneliness is as bad for you as it is for me" (Jane Eyre, 414). These women don't necessarily choose to be alienated, but they are outsiders who often find themselves among people who don't understand them. Mrs. Reed explains the distress caused by [Jane's] incomprehensible disposition, her sudden fits of temper, and her continual observation of her own movements” (Jane Eyre, 260). Ginevra tells Lucy that she is "so peculiar and so mysterious" and demands to know "But are you anyone?...Tell me who you are?" (Villette, 394) showing his inability to understand such a strange companion. And Lucy's response only reminds the reader that she is not actively trying to alienate others, or even necessarily understand why this happens. He tells Guinevere that this “mystery and peculiarity [are] entirely the conception of your brain” (Villette, 394). It is true that much of the alienation experienced byJane and Lucy is caused by the inadequate understanding of their peers. But they are also mysterious women, controlled by unique inner impulses. The nature of these impulses contributes to the sensitivity of the outsider. In their deepest dreams and ideals, Lucy and Jane often feel the need to constantly climb higher. This is not simply average ambition or optimism, but an inner desire that often manifests itself in fantastic notions and intricate visions. Lucy feels this strange urge to ascend without fully understanding it. When she is walking home one night and a huge storm breaks out "[she] bends her head to meet him: but it beats her back. [Her] heart [does] not fail at all in this conflict; [she] only wishes that [she ] has wings and can ascend the storm, spread and rest [its] wings on its strength, run in its course, sweep where it swept" (Villette, 236). When Jane looks out of the window at Lowood, "[her] eye ​​passes[s] all other objects to rest on the more remote ones, the blue peaks: they were those [she longs] to surpass; all within their boundary of rock and moor looked like a prison ground" (Jane Eyre, 99). His desire for change is felt like the need to reach the top of a mountain, to truly rise upwards. And Lucy "long[s], painfully...for something to take her out of [her] present existence and lead her upward and forward," but she also feels that "this longing, and all like it, is [it is] necessary to knock on the head" (Villette, 176). This self-repression of her vision only proves that Lucy's reason struggles with her dreams, so she has no control over them. This kind of desire, with its magical wings, is both poetic and heartbreaking. It shows the reader and the two women their higher aspirations, equating those goals with impossible feats. The dream of rising above their worlds is certainly partly inspired by the baseness of alienation, but it also comes from the feeling that they are trapped in communities that cannot understand them. Both women find themselves misunderstood when confronted with people who seem somehow essentially different, sometimes even obviously inferior to them. They both seem to have a special kind of intuition that often sets them apart from more mundane individuals. As a child in Lowood, Jane is already able to recognize that she has a higher vision than other people. When he sees Helen Burns continually harassed for trivial reasons, he concludes "such is the imperfect nature of man! Such spots are there on the disc of the clearest planet; and eyes like Miss Scatcherd's can see only those minute defects and are blind to all the brightness of the sphere" (Jane Eyre, 77). Jane clearly has a sense of values ​​that goes beyond the more mundane distinctions of society, the narrow boundaries that control characters like Mr. Brocklehurst, Mrs. Reed, and later Blanche Ingram. Rochester later confirms this superior understanding in response to something Jane said: "I mentally shake your hand for your answer... you don't often see such a way: no, on the contrary, affectation, or coldness, or stupid , gross misunderstanding of one's meaning is the usual reward of candour. Not one in three thousand crude schoolgirls would have answered me as you have just done... you are a different cast from the majority..." ( Jane Eyre, 154). Even the generally humble Lucy is shown to be aware of her superiority in society. There are short, telling moments like "I [like] Polly. It's not a statement I've often made about my knowledge, in the course of this book; the reader will bear it for once" (Villette, 461). She is willing to discriminate, just as she has been discriminated against.Although they are often lonely and alienated, Jane and Lucy do not lower themselves or compromise their nature for social well-being. The isolation of this personality type is perhaps a combination of superiority and discrimination. Whatever the reason, such cases are often voluntary. There are often social instances where both characters openly admit that they would prefer to be alone, or purposely isolate themselves in company. Lucia's "I lived in a house full of robust life; I could have had companions and I chose solitude" shows that she is aware of her decisions. (Villette, 194). Even more vivid is her statement during the scene in which she is drugged and wanders around the city. Her dream state allows her to admit, without doubts: "I prefer to find myself the silent, unknown, and consequently unapproachable neighbor of the short slip and the sabot; the only one who looks at the silk dress, the velvet cloak from afar, and the plumed hat, even in the midst of so much life and joy, did me good to be alone, really alone" (Villette, 552). Jane also tends to isolate herself from the company of society at large. When Thornfield's guests socialize in the drawing room, Jane makes sure to "sit in the shade - if there is shade in this brightly lighted apartment; the window curtain half hides it" (Jane Eyre, 197). This is a habit already associated with Jane from the first pages of the book, when she is immediately portrayed as excluding herself. He hides from the Reed family on a window seat (Jane Eyre, 15). Like Lucy, he has an innate preference for the solitude afforded by the outer confines of social interaction. Brontë creates an astute observer in these solitary but superior creatures. Their seemingly instinctive separation offers space for constant description of their surroundings, while their awkward alienation prompts observation. Even when Lucy is among her closest friends, like the Brettons, she tends to sit back and watch them converse instead of participating in their talk. An example is a carriage ride to a concert. Lucy spends a paragraph describing what she sees and praising the beauty of the sky and stars while "Dr. John and his mother [are] hotly contending with each other the whole way" (Villette, 284). friendship spread around me" (Villette, 284), a term that depicts her as a solitary island even in the midst of satisfying company. Jane's hiding behind a curtain in the presence of Rochester's guests is a previously cited example of her preferred seclusion, but it is more than just socially awkward behavior. It is a vantage point, the ultimate space into which a narrator can be relegated. It is completely believable that she is in the room, but she has the unique freedom to simultaneously comment and react to everything that passes her way. Jane expects to be ignored, and is aware of the inferiority of this group, to expect nothing less than practical invisibility. In fact, she appreciates the fact that "[she] can watch without being watched" (Jane Eyre, 198). At this moment, the focus of the scene shifts from Jane's inferior position to the new possibilities she creates. It's easy to forget that she is completely ignored and alienated when her obvious delight in genuine observation becomes apparent. The satisfaction and privacy afforded by the ability to observe suggests that perhaps Jane and Lucy have developed a fair form of freedom. There is probably nothing else that pleases both women equally and remains completely under their control. The thrill of observation is a quality evident in both novels. There are many moments when narrators are in company and willfully alienate themselves for the specific purpose of scrutiny. At some point, Lucy is like thattaken by the observation that she behaves as if she were alone, despite M.Paul's company. When Colonel de Hamal enters a room, Lucy "watches him for about ten minutes", describing entirely what she sees, only to realize that "...So much was [she] interested in his bearing, so absorbed in divination her character from her appearance and movements, [she] temporarily forgot M. Paul” (Villette, 281). The fact that observation is a natural priority for Lucy and also her occupation in the novel makes for a compelling narrative. The hardships of both stories are beautifully contrasted by any moments of pleasure or happiness. And because every moment of the narrative is an observation through the eyes of Lucy or Jane, it has the power to bring such relief. When Jane watches from her hiding place, she admits that "[her] eyelids [are] drawn involuntarily close to [Rochester's] face: [She] can't keep her eyelids under control:...I looked, and I had a sharp pleasure in looking, a precious, yet touching pleasure; pure gold, with a steely point of agony" (Jane Eyre, 198). His ability to stand out and the evident pleasure of looking unobserved become a vehicle of freedom, transforming his solitude into wings. It is not just the pleasure of describing that makes narration a liberating act. Lucy and Jane highly value the truth and often unintentionally alienate themselves by letting it reign above their self-control. Jane soon finds this out, when she finally explodes and expresses her true feelings out loud to Mrs. Reed. She describes the way this action makes her feel: “Before I had finished my answer, my soul began to expand, to exult, with the strangest sense of freedom, of triumph, that I had ever felt. invisible bond had broken out, and that I had struggled to achieve an unexpected freedom" (Jane Eyre, 47). This childhood epiphany will manifest itself in Jane's frank and open way of speaking, which is one of her most unique characteristics. She is aware of this and is able to explain that "[she] could never remain in communication with strong, discreet and refined minds, both male and female, until [she] had gone beyond the limits of conventional confidentiality and had crossed the threshold." of trust, and won a place at the hearthstone of their heart" (Jane Eyre, 418). In this statement, Jane has drawn a conscious parallel between speaking freely and satisfying her innate need to rise above the mundane society.This is precisely the effect she has as a storyteller. Some of the most compelling aspects of her story are the realistic power of her honesty about her self-doubt and her open discussion of her feelings of physical inferiority narrators' unique personalities and their liberation through the truth places great importance on a companion's effort to truly understand them. In a formal world where honesty is often hidden behind social constructs, Lucy and Jane are often forced to repress their true. self Most people do not see past these facades. However, both Rochester and M. Paul display an uncanny ability to see through any mask that women attempt to place. The school play situation shows this level of intuition perfectly. When Lucy realizes that "a keen resolve for dramatic expression [has] revealed itself as part of [her] nature," she immediately chooses to repress this desire, as it does not fit her social position as a "spectator of life ". " (Villette, 211). After the event has apparently passed and forgotten, M. Paul shows that he has made an effort to understand this strange woman, and that he has had a certain.