Home » history » women and beauty status

Category Archives: women and beauty status

@updates

*** Play and have fun in the Royal Palaces ***

Family_Tree_2

http://www.hrp.org.uk/PalaceKids/Discover

 

http://www.hrp.org.uk/KensingtonPalace/stories/palacehighlights/victoriarevealed/victoriaquiz/default.aspx

Gender gap links

Lucie Aubrac (1912-2007) resistante francaise, ici a l’époque de la seconde guerre mondiale Lucie Aubrac (1912-2007) member of the French resistance here during World War II

http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/2016/03/08/canada-gender-pay-gap_n_9393924.html
http://www.statistics.gov.uk/focuson/gender/

http://www.macmillandictionaries.com/resources/e-lessons/elessons/worksheets/december/Worksheet20_Girls.pdf

http://www.macmillandictionaries.com/resources/e-lessons/elessons/worksheets/december/LessonPlan20_Girls.pdf

http://www.breakingnewsenglish.com/1006/100613-relationships.html

http://www.nydailynews.com/lifestyle/2010/06/11/2010-06-11_study_finds_men_are_more_emotionally_hurt_than_women_over_bad_relationships.html

http://www.cwluherstory.org/why-i-want-a-wife.html

http://www.bbc.com/news/av/magazine-41655445/the-football-club-with-no-gender-pay-gap

metoo with links Marie -m A N D R E

Bright Star by John Keats

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors–
No–yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever–or else swoon to death.


Chapter 38 Jane Eyre

Chapter 38 Jane Eyre

Conclusion

usual exhortation of the reader who is asked to testify + unusual comment of a wedding
Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner and John cleaning the knives, and I said –
casual and detached  tone: not usually attributed to someone who makes such an announcement
“Mary, I have been married to Mr. Rochester this morning.” The housekeeper and her husband were both of that decent phlegmatic order of people, to whom one may at any time safely communicate a remarkable piece of news without incurring the danger of having one’s ears pierced by some shrill ejaculation, and subsequently stunned by a torrent of wordy wonderment. Mary did look up, and she did stare at me: the ladle with which she was basting a pair of chickens roasting at the fire, did for some three minutes hang suspended in air; and for the same space of time John’s knives also had rest from the polishing process: but Mary, bending again over the roast, said only –

“Have you, Miss? Well, for sure!”

A short time after she pursued–“I seed you go out with the master, but I didn’t know you were gone to church to be wed;” and she basted away. John, when I turned to him, was grinning from ear to ear.

“I telled Mary how it would be,” he said: “I knew what Mr. Edward” (John was an old servant, and had known his master when he was the cadet of the house, therefore, he often gave him his Christian name)–“I knew what Mr. Edward would do; and I was certain he would not wait long neither: and he’s done right, for aught I know. I wish you joy, Miss!” and he politely pulled his forelock.

“Thank you, John. Mr. Rochester told me to give you and Mary this.” I put into his hand a five-pound note. Without waiting to hear more, I left the kitchen. In passing the door of that sanctum some time after, I caught the words –

“She’ll happen do better for him nor ony o’t’ grand ladies.” And again, “If she ben’t one o’ th’ handsomest, she’s noan faal and varry good-natured; and i’ his een she’s fair beautiful, onybody may see that.”

I wrote to Moor House and to Cambridge immediately, to say what I had done: fully explaining also why I had thus acted. Diana and Mary approved the step unreservedly. Diana announced that she would just give me time to get over the honeymoon, and then she would come and see me.

“She had better not wait till then, Jane,” said Mr. Rochester, when I read her letter to him; “if she does, she will be too late, for our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.”

How St. John received the news, I don’t know: he never answered the letter in which I communicated it: yet six months after he wrote to me, without, however, mentioning Mr. Rochester’s name or alluding to my marriage. His letter was then calm, and, though very serious, kind. He has maintained a regular, though not frequent, correspondence ever since: he hopes I am happy, and trusts I am not of those who live without God in the world, and only mind earthly things.
teasing the reader
You have not quite forgotten little Adele, have you, reader?
I had not; I soon asked and obtained leave of Mr. Rochester, to go and see her at the school where he had placed her. Her frantic joy at beholding me again moved me much. She looked pale and thin: she said she was not happy. I found the rules of the establishment were too strict, its course of study too severe for a child of her age: I took her home with me. I meant to become her governess once more, but I soon found this impracticable; my time and cares were now required by another–my husband needed them all. So I sought out a school conducted on a more indulgent system, and near enough to permit of my visiting her often, and bringing her home sometimes. I took care she should never want for anything that could contribute to her comfort: she soon settled in her new abode, became very happy there, and made fair progress in her studies. As she grew up, a sound English education corrected in a great measure her French defects; and when she left school, I found in her a pleasing and obliging companion: docile, good-tempered, and well-principled. By her grateful attention to me and mine, she has long since well repaid any little kindness I ever had it in my power to offer her.
first ending: all’s-well-that-ends-well music or how the heath has its well-hidden enchantment and rewarding side in store
My tale draws to its close: one word respecting my experience of married life, and one brief glance at the fortunes of those whose names have most frequently recurred in this narrative, and I have done.

I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely blest–blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husband’s life as fully is he is mine. No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. I know no weariness of my Edward’s society: he knows none of mine, any more than we each do of the pulsation of the heart that beats in our separate bosoms; consequently, we are ever together. To be together is for us to be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, I believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated and an audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him, all his confidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character–perfect concord is the result.

Mr. Rochester continued blind the first two years of our union; perhaps it was that circumstance that drew us so very near–that knit us so very close: for I was then his vision, as I am still his right hand. Literally, I was (what he often called me) the apple of his eye. He saw nature–he saw books through me; and never did I weary of gazing for his behalf, and of putting into words the effect of field, tree, town, river, cloud, sunbeam–of the landscape before us; of the weather round us–and impressing by sound on his ear what light could no longer stamp on his eye. Never did I weary of reading to him; never did I weary of conducting him where he wished to go: of doing for him what he wished to be done. And there was a pleasure in my services, most full, most exquisite, even though sad- -because he claimed these services without painful shame or damping humiliation. He loved me so truly, that he knew no reluctance in profiting by my attendance: he felt I loved him so fondly, that to yield that attendance was to indulge my sweetest wishes.

One morning at the end of the two years, as I was writing a letter to his dictation, he came and bent over me, and said–“Jane, have you a glittering ornament round your neck?”

I had a gold watch-chain: I answered “Yes.”

“And have you a pale blue dress on?”

I had. He informed me then, that for some time he had fancied the obscurity clouding one eye was becoming less dense; and that now he was sure of it.

He and I went up to London. He had the advice of an eminent oculist; and he eventually recovered the sight of that one eye. He cannot now see very distinctly: he cannot read or write much; but he can find his way without being led by the hand: the sky is no longer a blank to him–the earth no longer a void. When his first- born was put into his arms, he could see that the boy had inherited his own eyes, as they once were–large, brilliant, and black. On that occasion, he again, with a full heart, acknowledged that God had tempered judgment with mercy.

My Edward and I, then, are happy: and the more so, because those we most love are happy likewise. Diana and Mary Rivers are both married: alternately, once every year, they come to see us, and we go to see them. Diana’s husband is a captain in the navy, a gallant officer and a good man. Mary’s is a clergyman, a college friend of her brother’s, and, from his attainments and principles, worthy of the connection. Both Captain Fitzjames and Mr. Wharton love their wives, and are loved by them.
second ending: “See, reader, you are mistaken… do you think I am so foolish to make it so simple for you!”
As to St. John Rivers, he left England: he went to India. He entered on the path he had marked for himself; he pursues it still. A more resolute, indefatigable pioneer never wrought amidst rocks and dangers. Firm, faithful, and devoted, full of energy, and zeal, and truth, he labours for his race; he clears their painful way to improvement; he hews down like a giant the prejudices of creed and caste that encumber it. He may be stern; he may be exacting; he may be ambitious yet; but his is the sternness of the warrior Greatheart, who guards his pilgrim convoy from the onslaught of Apollyon. His is the exaction of the apostle, who speaks but for Christ, when he says–“Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me.” His is the ambition of the high master-spirit, which aims to fill a place in the first rank of those who are redeemed from the earth–who stand without fault before the throne of God, who share the last mighty victories of the Lamb, who are called, and chosen, and faithful.

St. John is unmarried: he never will marry now.
Himself has hitherto sufficed to the toil, and the toil draws near its close: his glorious sun hastens to its setting. The last letter I received from him drew from my eves human tears, and yet filled my heart with divine joy: he anticipated his sure reward, his incorruptible crown. I know that a stranger’s hand will write to me next, to say that the good and faithful servant has been called at length into the joy of his Lord. And why weep for this? No fear of death will darken St. John’s last hour: his mind will be unclouded, his heart will be undaunted, his hope will be sure, his faith steadfast. His own words are a pledge of this –

“My Master,” he says, “has forewarned me. Daily He announces more distinctly,–‘Surely I come quickly!’ and hourly I more eagerly respond,–‘Amen; even so come, Lord Jesus!'” Book of Revelation (I Am Coming Quickly) may be attributed to the apostle John

Aren’t Saint John and Jane Eyre  the same person in a two-sided mirror?

What matters for Jane is her personal quest, the revelation of herself, her own path whatever crosses it!

From the outside her quest sounds  quixotic  with a lot of generosity and willingness to help but it  has a very original and unexpected twist:

Are we  to read a poor orphan’s story, her upbringing and success in society as governess+spouse+mother?

The story turns into one of the most powerful reversal of values and distractions, namely the final twist which makes readers
go back to the incipit and  meanderings of the story of a  heroine who is as elusive and fragile as the very word “air”.

Masterpiece with masters and servants are  left in the erring and airing spaces of the heath…without frontiers and boundaries.

The very status of the main character-cum-narrator  is that of a contemporary hobbo on
the path of recognition, on the go, on the run and not rational and fitting any framed type of explanations.

Is poetic justice achieved as  it  is more reliable than justice of the outer world?





The status of books in Jane Eyre

Jane Eyre and books in Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

Dual aspect of books

-books as guides and mentors, companions and friends

part of her identity

part and parcel of her inner self as opposed to the outer one

the inner space : that of the line or path she decided to follow, part of the destiny she wants for herself

implies the idea of liberty but also life “within”

helping the narrator in giving her a composure: during the feast given by Mr Rochester

a social stance in a world in which she does not fit

the “duty” aspect of the governess: the social étiquette( the governess is recognizable by the fact that

she is dressed in a more sober and unattractive manner than the “ladies” of  the good society of the times

books stand as  a “vindication” of her status

(not unlikely the Brontës may have read Mary Wollstonecraft’s

book)

help her with her duties as a governess as well as the drawings done for others and being done by others

under her command


books as escapism or the Madame Bovary syndrome

existential aides in times of turmoil :

– with Helen at school: drawing on a sketch  book is a way of liaising and soothing the hardships of the rules

-a space for liberty and belonging to a different social sphere

implying dreamland of fantasies with all their dangers and pitfalls

as an orphan, books have been a refuge for her

the first book she might have been introduced to was the Bible

through the readings at her aunt’s house

and later on at school

books with a constraint and a moral



– last but not least: Jane Eyre’s message is a narcissistic one : “the best book is the book I am writing”

it outstrips and excells the book of books (namely the Bible) the word is mine ‘See Reader, how cute and intelligent!’ style

I am over the mass of my times: I will be published and read, I the writer, I the cretaor

I stand as the truth , that of the disguised writer  under the quill of a governess  to give my contemporaries

and all the generations of readers my piece of mind on

man without the kindness attached to mankind

still expecting my own recognition

(hence the act of auto-biographical writing)

further reading (with a fee) on GradeSaver

notes and texts by students

Categories

March 2024
M T W T F S S
 123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

buy windows 11 pro test ediyorum