Monologue text
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Information
Role: Jane Eyre. One of Victorian literature's rebellious heroines. Critics of the period found her unwomanly, albeit more interesting than the common angel in the house.
Age: 18 years old
Monologue synopsis: Jane lived in Lowood Institution that was partly a charity school. Helen Burns, her friend there, died with consumption when Jane was 10 years old. Here Jane recalls the night that after a long time of seeing Helen who were in "fever room", went to her. A bittersweet story of the life of a strong, passionate young woman, who survives a wretched childhood.
Age: 18 years old
Monologue synopsis: Jane lived in Lowood Institution that was partly a charity school. Helen Burns, her friend there, died with consumption when Jane was 10 years old. Here Jane recalls the night that after a long time of seeing Helen who were in "fever room", went to her. A bittersweet story of the life of a strong, passionate young woman, who survives a wretched childhood.
Monologue
Jane Eyre: ...A light shone through the keyhole and from under the door; a profound stillness pervaded the vicinity. Coming near, I found the door slightly ajar; probably to admit some fresh air into the close abode of sickness. I put it back and looked in. My eye sought Helen, and feared to find death. Close by Miss Temple's bed, and half covered with its white curtains, there stood a little crib. I saw the outline of a form under the clothes, but the face was hid by the hangings. I advanced; then paused by the crib side: my hand was on the curtain, but I preferred speaking before I withdrew it. I still recoiled at the dread of seeing a corpse.
"Helen!" I whispered softly, "are you awake?" She stirred herself, put back the curtain, and I saw her face, pale, wasted, but quite composed. She looked so little changed that my fear was instantly dissipated. "Can it be you, Jane?" she asked, in her own gentle voice. "Oh!" I thought, "she is not going to die; they are mistaken: she could not speak and look so calmly if she were." I got on to her crib and kissed her. Her forehead was cold, and her cheek both cold and thin, and so were her hand and wrist; but she smiled as of old. "I came to see you, Helen: I heard you were very ill, and I could not sleep till I had spoken to you." While I tried to devour my tears, a fit of coughing seized Helen; it did not, however, wake the nurse; when it was over, she lay some minutes exhausted; then she whispered -
"Jane, your little feet are bare; lie down and cover yourself with my quilt." I did so: she put her arm over me, and I nestled close to her. After a long silence, she resumed, still whispering - "I am very happy, Jane; and when you hear that I am dead, you must be sure and not grieve: there is nothing to grieve about. We all must die one day, and the illness which is removing me is not painful; it is gentle and gradual: my mind is at rest. I leave no one to regret me much. By dying young, I shall escape great sufferings." -"And shall I see you again, Helen, when I die?" -"You will come to the same region of happiness: be received by the same mighty, universal Parent, no doubt, dear Jane." - Again I questioned, but this time only in thought: Where is that region?... Does it exist?... I clasped my arms closer round Helen; she seemed dearer to me than ever; I felt as if I could not let her go; I lay with my face hidden on her neck. She kissed me, and I her, and we both soon slumbered... When I awoke it was day: an unusual movement roused me; I looked up; I was in somebody's arms; the nurse held me; she was carrying me through the passage back to the dormitory. I was not reprimanded for leaving my bed; people had something else to think about; no explanation was afforded then to my many questions; but a day or two afterwards I learned that Miss Temple, on returning to her own room at dawn, had found me laid in the little crib; my face against Helen Burns's shoulder, my arms round her neck. I was asleep, and Helen was...dead. Her grave is in Brocklebridge churchyard: for fifteen years after her death it was only covered by a grassy mound; but now a grey marble tablet marks the spot, inscribed with her name, and the word: "Resurgam."
"Helen!" I whispered softly, "are you awake?" She stirred herself, put back the curtain, and I saw her face, pale, wasted, but quite composed. She looked so little changed that my fear was instantly dissipated. "Can it be you, Jane?" she asked, in her own gentle voice. "Oh!" I thought, "she is not going to die; they are mistaken: she could not speak and look so calmly if she were." I got on to her crib and kissed her. Her forehead was cold, and her cheek both cold and thin, and so were her hand and wrist; but she smiled as of old. "I came to see you, Helen: I heard you were very ill, and I could not sleep till I had spoken to you." While I tried to devour my tears, a fit of coughing seized Helen; it did not, however, wake the nurse; when it was over, she lay some minutes exhausted; then she whispered -
"Jane, your little feet are bare; lie down and cover yourself with my quilt." I did so: she put her arm over me, and I nestled close to her. After a long silence, she resumed, still whispering - "I am very happy, Jane; and when you hear that I am dead, you must be sure and not grieve: there is nothing to grieve about. We all must die one day, and the illness which is removing me is not painful; it is gentle and gradual: my mind is at rest. I leave no one to regret me much. By dying young, I shall escape great sufferings." -"And shall I see you again, Helen, when I die?" -"You will come to the same region of happiness: be received by the same mighty, universal Parent, no doubt, dear Jane." - Again I questioned, but this time only in thought: Where is that region?... Does it exist?... I clasped my arms closer round Helen; she seemed dearer to me than ever; I felt as if I could not let her go; I lay with my face hidden on her neck. She kissed me, and I her, and we both soon slumbered... When I awoke it was day: an unusual movement roused me; I looked up; I was in somebody's arms; the nurse held me; she was carrying me through the passage back to the dormitory. I was not reprimanded for leaving my bed; people had something else to think about; no explanation was afforded then to my many questions; but a day or two afterwards I learned that Miss Temple, on returning to her own room at dawn, had found me laid in the little crib; my face against Helen Burns's shoulder, my arms round her neck. I was asleep, and Helen was...dead. Her grave is in Brocklebridge churchyard: for fifteen years after her death it was only covered by a grassy mound; but now a grey marble tablet marks the spot, inscribed with her name, and the word: "Resurgam."
~An excerpt from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte~
[Theatricalization by Alice Katsavou]
[Theatricalization by Alice Katsavou]
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