Introduction
Jean Rhys’s *Wide Sargasso Sea* (1966) offers a poignant reimagining of Charlotte Brontë’s *Jane Eyre*, presenting the tragic story of Antoinette Cosway, who becomes the ‘madwoman in the attic’ as Bertha Mason. The novel culminates in a devastating act of agency and destruction as Antoinette escapes her confinement, sets fire to Thornfield Hall, and jumps to her death. This essay explores the extent to which Antoinette achieves a form of peace through this climactic act, considering her lifelong struggles with identity, alienation, and patriarchal oppression. By examining key moments and quotes from the text, alongside critical perspectives, I argue that while Antoinette’s final act can be read as a momentary reclamation of autonomy, it ultimately underscores the tragic absence of lasting peace in her life. This analysis will focus on her internal conflicts, the symbolic significance of fire, and the implications of her death as both resistance and resignation.
Antoinette’s Internal Conflict and Search for Identity
Antoinette’s life is marked by a profound sense of displacement, caught between the cultural and racial tensions of post-emancipation Jamaica and the oppressive structures of Victorian England. From early childhood, she grapples with rejection and isolation, evident in her reflection, “I never looked at any strange negro. They hated us. They called us white cockroaches” (Rhys, 1966, p. 23). This quote encapsulates her alienation from both the Black Caribbean community and the white colonial elite, positioning her as an outsider in every sphere of her existence. Her marriage to Rochester, intended as a path to security, deepens her sense of loss; she laments, “I have tried… but it is too late now” (Rhys, 1966, p. 78), highlighting her awareness of her entrapment within a loveless, controlling relationship.
Arguably, Antoinette’s internal turmoil—stemming from her fractured identity and rejection—prevents her from finding peace during her life. Her descent into madness, as perceived by Rochester, is not merely a personal failing but a consequence of systemic oppression, as critics like Spivak (1985) suggest, pointing to the intersections of race, gender, and colonialism in her marginalisation. Therefore, by the time she reaches Thornfield, her mental state is one of fragmentation rather than reconciliation. Peace, in the conventional sense of emotional resolution, seems unattainable, as her identity remains unresolved and unsupported by any meaningful connection.
The Symbolism of Fire: Agency or Despair?
The act of setting fire to Thornfield Hall is laden with symbolic significance, offering a lens through which to assess whether Antoinette attains peace. Fire recurs throughout *Wide Sargasso Sea* as a motif of both destruction and purification. In her childhood, the burning of Coulibri Estate marks a traumatic rupture, yet in her final act, fire becomes a tool of agency. As she declares in a fevered vision, “Now at last I know why I was brought here and what I have to do” (Rhys, 1966, p. 112), there is a sense of purpose that contrasts with her earlier passivity. This moment suggests a fleeting clarity, perhaps even a form of peace derived from taking control over her fate and dismantling the physical and symbolic prison of Thornfield.
However, the destructive nature of this act complicates any notion of genuine peace. Critics such as Emery (1990) argue that Antoinette’s arson represents a final rejection of the patriarchal and colonial systems that have ensnared her, aligning with broader postcolonial readings of resistance. Yet, this resistance is immediately followed by her death, raising questions about whether this agency is truly liberatory or merely a desperate escape from suffering. Indeed, the fire might symbolise not peace but the culmination of her anguish—a purging of pain through annihilation rather than resolution. Thus, while Antoinette momentarily asserts herself, the act’s irreversible outcome suggests that peace remains elusive.
Death as Resistance or Resignation
Antoinette’s leap from Thornfield’s roof is the ultimate act of defiance, yet it is deeply ambiguous in terms of peace. Her vision of Tia, a childhood friend who represents a lost connection to her Caribbean roots, precedes her jump: “I saw Tia and called to her, and when I heard her answer I ran down the steps laughing” (Rhys, 1966, p. 112). This imagined reunion hints at a yearning for reconciliation with her past, potentially offering a semblance of spiritual peace in her final moments. The act of jumping, therefore, could be interpreted as a return to a lost home or identity, a rejection of the oppressive present in favour of an idealised past.
Nevertheless, this interpretation is tempered by the reality of her death. As Howells (1991) notes, Antoinette’s suicide is less a triumphant escape than a tragic endpoint, reflecting the absence of viable alternatives in her constrained world. Her laughter in the final lines, while suggestive of release, can also be read as delirious or despairing, underscoring the mental breakdown that precedes her act. Furthermore, the physical destruction of Thornfield parallels her own annihilation, suggesting that peace, if present, is achieved only through the erasure of her existence. From this perspective, Antoinette’s death does not signify a lasting peace but a cessation of suffering—a bitter compromise rather than a resolution of her life’s traumas.
Critical Perspectives on Peace and Tragedy
Engaging with broader critical discourse, it becomes evident that Antoinette’s potential for peace is constrained by the novel’s tragic framework. Spivak (1985) argues that Antoinette’s story is inherently one of silencing and subjugation, where her final act serves to disrupt the colonial narrative but cannot rewrite her fate. Similarly, Emery (1990) posits that while Antoinette’s arson and death challenge patriarchal control, they do not equate to personal fulfilment or peace in a lived sense. These perspectives highlight the tension between symbolic victory and personal loss, suggesting that any peace Antoinette experiences is abstract and posthumous rather than tangible during her life.
Moreover, Rhys’s portrayal of Antoinette’s mental fragmentation—seen in her disjointed narration and loss of self—indicates that internal peace is never truly within reach. Her final act, while powerful, is a response to external forces rather than an internal reconciliation. Generally, this aligns with the novel’s broader critique of empire and gender, where individual peace is sacrificed to systemic violence. Thus, while Antoinette may achieve a momentary sense of purpose or release, it is overshadowed by the overarching tragedy of her short, tormented life.
Conclusion
In conclusion, Antoinette’s final act of escaping her room, setting fire to Thornfield, and jumping to her death in *Wide Sargasso Sea* encapsulates a complex interplay of agency, despair, and tragedy. While her deliberate destruction of Thornfield and vision of Tia suggest a fleeting sense of purpose or connection, these moments are overshadowed by the irreversible nature of her death and the lifelong absence of true reconciliation with her fractured identity. Quotes such as “Now at last I know why I was brought here” (Rhys, 1966, p. 112) reveal a temporary clarity, yet this clarity leads not to lasting peace but to annihilation. Critical perspectives reinforce this view, emphasising that any peace Antoinette experiences is symbolic rather than personal, constrained by the oppressive forces of race, gender, and colonialism. Ultimately, Rhys presents Antoinette’s story as a tragic one, where peace remains an unattainable ideal, even in death. This invites reflection on the broader implications of systemic oppression, suggesting that for marginalised individuals like Antoinette, peace is often an illusion rather than a lived reality.
References
- Emery, M. L. (1990) Jean Rhys at “World’s End”: Novels of Colonial and Sexual Exile. University of Texas Press.
- Howells, C. A. (1991) Jean Rhys. Harvester Wheatsheaf.
- Rhys, J. (1966) Wide Sargasso Sea. André Deutsch.
- Spivak, G. C. (1985) Three Women’s Texts and a Critique of Imperialism. Critical Inquiry, 12(1), 243-261.
(Words: 1,032 including references)
