Coursework Title :- Write Mr Rochester's memories of his first impressions of Jane Eyre
You should aim to create an authentic voice for Mr Rochester which builds upon Charlotte Bronte's presentation of his character and captures aspects of the writer's chosen form, structure and language

Disclaimer - I do not own Jane Eyre, my name is not Charlotte Bronte even though we do have the same first name and initials!

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Here I was in one of the few habitable rooms of Ferndean manor, alone in the oppressing and turbid darkness in the prison that was my mind and the dark room in which I now resided in solitude, seclusion and loneliness.

What the deuce is to do now? I have done wrong: in punishment He has taken her away, and this time she could not save me from the fire; she could not baptise me with courage and wisdom. My situation was like that of Tiresias – I was blind but had gained inner sight and wisdom. I have begun to wish to reconcile with my Creator – to pray for redemption and even expressing my penitence and sorrow – to no avail. Jane Eyre has not returned.

During my youthful days discontent rarely visited my mind; and if I was ever overcome by ennui, the sight of what is beautiful in nature could always interest my heart, and communicate elasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit, what I hoped I would soon cease to be – a miserable spectacle of humanity who has sinned and is now intolerable to my own self. Jane Eyre was to be my guide – she was my heart.

I remember our first meeting well – we had met on my journey back to Thornfield where I planned to retire for a couple of weeks. The winding of the lane hid my future journey; I was blind: I had little desire to return to the place I refused to call my home – the secrets contained in the grey and battlemented hall prevented me, however, my duties to Adèle and to my wife enforced my return. The evening calm had been bleak, the weather had been like a raw beast rearing its ugly head, its sheer cold had bitten me through my thick riding clothes, and had driven me towards the inevitable darkness of Thornfield Hall.

This lane declined all the way from Hay; I knew that I was only but one mile, two at most, away from reaching my destination.

So distracted had I been that I failed to see the ice covering the causeway like a sheet of glass. I had no hope of stopping in time, from Mesrour I descended - I was unaware that my incident had been witnessed until Pilot returned with Her; I continued with my futile attempt to free myself of my steed.

"Are you injured Sir?"

This was when I first saw Jane, at this point I had yet to discern her behind the silhouette I was currently glimpsing but I could deduce from the voice that it was that of a woman, a young one at that. The thought of a woman to behold my undecorous disturbance filled me with embarrassment and I swore and cursed under my breath, praying that I was not audible to her and that she would pass on.

"If you are hurt, and want help, sir, I can fetch someone either from Thornfield Hall or from Hay."

I was silent: sincere was she in her words; but in the tranquillity she imparted there was an alloy of inexpressible contentment. No woman had made such a prima facie on me before.

The light then illuminated the stranger's face, for she was then a stranger, and for the first time I could see her clearly with the last of the remaining daylight and the hoary gleam of the moon. Her physiognomy was not like that of Blanche Ingram : no rich curls adorned her face, her features were not beautiful, but her eyes held knowledge, wisdom and astuteness.

I now find myself unable to recall the exact wording of our first conversation: I am aware that I spoke with some asperity; I found myself at this time irrationally blaming her for my blunder. She was a witch – a witch who had bewitched my horse. I thought unaccountably of fairy tales: I had half a mind to ask whether she had used sorcery to result in my fall – I did not.

Necessity compelled me to make her useful: I asked her to get hold of my horse's bridle and lead him to me; she did not succeed, she was no Miss Ingram. With her aid, I limped over to my horse, leaning heavily on my companion; I mounted Mesrour and could not hold back a grimace as I did so, the pain of my injury ailed me.

She handed me my whip: I took one last look at her; during our conversation she revealed her current position as a governess at Thornfield - her working for me would ensure that we would meet again.

We parted: and it was not long before we met again; our subsequent conversations were certainly intriguing in their content: I was drawn to her as helpless as a mundane object was drawn to the earth by gravity: she grounded me. It was after the destruction of my chambers through the fire; the christening; the knowledge that came with the aftermath that my true feelings were made clear to me. To me she was innocent and whole, untainted by mistakes of the past: I used her as my compass to guide me, to correct my mistake of taking the wrong path and continuing along it - and change me, for better for worse.

She was interesting, something new, a breath of fresh air in my vacuum of despair, anguish and despondency. Is the wandering and sinful but now repentant man justified in committing the act of bigamy, in order to attach to him forever this gracious, extraordinary woman, securing his regeneration of life? My marriage with Bertha was not a blessing from God, but a curse, an unbreakable and legal bond tied me to my blunder - to my wife. I have sullied my innocent flower: I have hurt Jane Eyre; I regret now my manipulation into finding out the truth of her feelings and my attempts to persuade her to commit the sin of bigamy. Thornfield I thought of now with a devouring maladie du pays as I now associated the structure with Jane – the tree by which I proposed, the rooms in which we spoke, the grounds which we roamed, they were now untainted as they had been in the presence of an angel.

Mrs Fairfax had warned me of the negative consequences of my actions; she suggested that Blanche Ingram was to be a more suitable bride, for Jane was only a governess and Blanche was more equal to me in her status. I cared not of her position in my house, only of her position in my heart and soul – which was much greater than any title one has accumulated from birth.

My thoughts broke now as the door opened: I am no longer alone; although I am blind I demand that a candle be brought in; at times I am sceptical that such a candle was present. After all, why waste a candle on a blind man? Then the tray-bearer spoke and it no longer matters, as the light now shines again in my life – candle, or no candle.

It was Jane.