The mad wife entered the public consciousness as the "madwoman in the attic" but, if you want to get technical, it was not the attic she was locked up in, it was a room on the third floor. However, it doesn't matter a hoot. It was a confined space and she was kept under a lock. Thornfield could have been a castle and she could have been locked up in a tower, and it would have amounted to the same thing. Additionally, a noun followed by "in the attic" flows so well and makes for punchy title. E.g. The (in)famous series Flowers in the Attic, (technically the children were not in the attic either, they lived in a bedroom on the top floor and played in the attic). There's the film Aliens in the Attic. And book titled The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and The Nineteenth Century Literary Imagination, a literary criticism by Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar, which examines the works of female 19th century writers. Madwoman in the Attic is also a TV Trope. I personally use the expression for anything related to women and madness, or anger, in a patriarchal society. I have a tag for it on my main. In my fanfics, I refer to the attic as well, for no other reason than that it sounds better.
Okay, so... this is the part of the book where I claim unreliable narrator. I did so before, but that was just to explore various options the narrative offers. Now, don't get me wrong, I do trust Jane. She's not someone who lies. She wouldn't be so virtuous if she lied. But it is also true that she is very young and very inexperienced. See item 8 on my list in the Enter Mr Rochester post. She couldn't even learn much from reading books because she's not read many and those she did read were not learned. It's not her fault. When it came to the merry company, I think a lot of the stuff from her could have been just plain misunderstanding. She doesn't know anything about people of society. (For the record, she doesn't describe them all in a negative light, it's just Lady Ingram, Lady Lynn and Blanche she paints as bad, the rest were okay, she even mentions Mrs Eshton and Mrs Dent were nice to her.) Take it with a pinch of salt, or not, it's up to you.
But the secret mad wife is something else.
The door to the hidden room is opened and they step in. Jane gives a quick description of the room--it has no windows, there is a fender with a fire burning in it, a lamp hangs from the ceiling. Grace Poole is cooking something in a saucepan. And then comes her description of Edward Rochester's lawfully wedded wife.
In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.
Rochester cheerfully greets Mrs Poole and asks how her charge is today. Grace answers that she's tolerable, and then warns him to take care.
The maniac bellowed: she parted her shaggy locks from her visage, and gazed wildly at her visitors. I recognised well that purple face,—those bloated features.
Why Jane changes the pronouns from "it" to "she", I don't know. Why she uses the pronoun "it" in the first place, I don't know.
Rochester warns everyone to keep away. He says he supposes his wife has no knife now. Grace responds that:
“One never knows what she has, sir: she is so cunning: it is not in mortal discretion to fathom her craft.”
Richard Mason suggests they'd better leave her. Rochester snaps at him:
Why? Why should Richard go to the devil? He made a perfectly reasonable suggestion, for everyone's safety.
Bertha springs at Rochester and they fight. Jane in her description of the fight lets the reader know that Rochester could have struck her with one blow but didn't.
Speaking of Rochester striking people. Earlier, in the church, according to Jane, Rochester raised his arm to strike Richard. He didn't, because Richard shrank away. Then, a moment later, as he's trying to defend himself, Rochester says this:
"Cheer up, Dick!—never fear me!—I’d almost as soon strike a woman as you."
But he did attempt to strike him, at least that's what Jane's narration says. So either Jane is not telling the truth, or Rochester is denying an action he carried out only a minute or two ago. An action witnessed by a solicitor and a clergyman. Plus a third man, a clerk, who was also present. So yeah.
Grace hands Rochester a cord, with which he ties his wife's hands and then ties her to a chair. This he does among Bertha's yells and plunges.
Would you believe it. She won't be tied quietly!
Rochester is in his element. He turns to his audience and declares:
“That is my wife,” said he. “Such is the sole conjugal embrace I am ever to know—such are the endearments which are to solace my leisure hours! And this is what I wished to have” (laying his hand on my shoulder): “this young girl, who stands so grave and quiet at the mouth of hell, looking collectedly at the gambols of a demon, I wanted her just as a change after that fierce ragout. Wood and Briggs, look at the difference! Compare these clear eyes with the red balls yonder—this face with that mask—this form with that bulk; then judge me, priest of the gospel and man of the law, and remember with what judgment ye judge ye shall be judged! Off with you now. I must shut up my prize.”
(Wrong denomination, but it's all I could find.)
And remember with what judgment ye judge ye shall be judged.
May I remind you that this is the same guy who appointed himself an authority to judge a woman for wanting to marry a man with money.
There are people who are full of shit. And then there's Edward Rochester.
