53 pages • 1 hour read
Daphne du MaurierA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide contains discussions of ableism.
The perceived link between aesthetics and morality was popularized in 19th-century Europe. Notions of morality held that a person’s appearance belies their moral character, so an “ugly” person, or someone with a physical disability, would have been deemed morally suspect or even morally “inferior” to a “normal” person. Such people would be treated as “freaks” and would often be ostracized or relegated to the edges of society. In Jamaica Inn, Mary echoes these ideas, even if she does not fully endorse them: “In the animal kingdom a freak was a thing of abhorrence, at once hunted and destroyed, or driven out into the wilderness” (139). Many works of gothic literature play with this trope. Quasimodo, the titular Hunchback of Notre Dame in Victor Hugo’s 1831 novel, for example, was affected in his physical development and is treated as “grotesque” and a “monster”—but he has a kind and noble heart (Hugo, Victor. The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Wordsworth, 1993). The monster in Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein (1818) is judged by his appearance and forced into becoming an actual monster by neglect and abuse (Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein, or, The Modern Prometheus. Oxford University Press, 2008). While it is important to note that appearance and morality have no relation in real life, non-conventional appearances are often aligned with villainy in literature, and Jamaica Inn is no exception. Many characters, such as Joss, whose appearance is largely ruined by his amoral lifestyle, have an outward appearance that matches their inner ugliness. “Freakdom” in Jamaica Inn is most closely associated with Francis Davey who has albinism. While at first he seems to subvert the trope of a person with marginalized physical characteristics exhibiting immorality, this proves to be a deflection to lull Mary (and the reader) into a false sense of security.
Francis Davey is well aware of the way that others perceive him, drawing attention to this fact as he prepares to flee with Mary: “Yes, I am a freak in nature and a freak in time. I do not belong here, and I was born with a grudge against the age, and a grudge against mankind’” (224-25). The vicar longs for what he calls the silence of the “pagan” era; he rejects modernity and feels he was born in the wrong time period. Du Maurier hence links his sense of alienation to his physical condition. While this may have otherwise made him an outsider, he became an important figure in his community thanks to his religious position. This also made him seem trustworthy to Mary, though there are several times when she finds the vicar’s albinism off-putting. For example, she feels “a sensation of uneasiness that she connected instinctively with his freak hair and eyes, as though his physical departure from normality was a barrier between him and the rest of the world” (139). Due to the fact that these words are spoken by the protagonist, Jamaica Inn exhibits discriminatory tropes.
Francis Davey’s albinism serves as a distraction to play with readers’ expectations and build suspense. Because du Maurier uses discriminatory tropes to make him appear mysterious and even sinister, he at first seems an obvious candidate for the novel’s real antagonist. However, his position of religious authority, the confidence Mary puts in him, and the suspicion she feels toward Jem protects the vicar throughout the novel. When he reveals his villainy, his whiteness aligns him with “the small white eye” of the beacon Francis Davey’s wreckers use to lure sailors to their demise (154). The novel hence ultimately aligns “freakdom” with villainy like many of its literary predecessors.
The idea of having “bad blood” is a form of prejudice or guilt by association that du Maurier explores throughout the novel. It is akin to fate in that it suggests that one is predisposed toward evil, whether that is violence, crime, or just bad behavior, as a consequence of their family lineage. This links the novel to its early 20th-century context, since during du Maurier’s time of writing the rise of eugenics had popularized discriminatory ideas that the human race could be improved by preventing those with qualities deemed to be inferior from passing on their genes (National Human Genome Research Institute. “Eugenics and Scientific Racism,” 2022). “Bad blood” raises related questions of nature versus nurture: can someone be “bad” by nature, or are they rather a product of their upbringing and social situation? Mrs. Yellan instills the idea of bad blood in Mary:
There’s no going against bad blood […] it always comes out in the end. You may fight it as much as you like, but it will have the better of you. If two generations live clean, that may clear the stream sometimes, but likely as not the third will break out and start it going again (63).
This assessment causes Mary to judge Jem for his connection to Joss, rather than for his own faults or merits. The Merlyn family in Jamaica Inn exemplifies the theme of bad blood, as well as the hope that there is some good in everyone.
Joss and Jem, the only surviving Merlyns, come from an ignoble family line that is presented as predisposed toward mistreating women, committing crimes, and dying early deaths. Their father frequently beat their mother, and he was ultimately hanged in Exeter for murder. This cycle of violence is passed onto his eldest sons. Joss and Matt were grown men by the time that Jem was born; Matt died young, drowning in the moor, but he was a violent man in life. Though Aunt Patience claims that Jem is the worst of his brothers, du Maurier makes the reader aware of the irony of her statement, since Joss clearly holds that title: He is responsible for the deaths of untold numbers of men, women, and even children. His method of murder is particularly personal and cruel, pelting shipwreck survivors with stones or holding them underwater himself, until they drown in the shallows. Because Jem will not give Mary a straight answer about his involvement (or lack of involvement) in Joss’s affairs, Mary begins to build a case against Jem in her mind. This comes to a head when Joss and Aunt Patience are killed:
Like to like. One of a kind. He had gone to Jamaica Inn as he had promised, and his brother had died, as he had sworn. The whole truth stared up at her in ugliness and horror, and she wished now that she had stayed, and he had killed her too. He was a thief, in the night he had come and was gone again (209).
Mary is misguided, however, and du Maurier uses Jem’s actions to resist widespread ideas about “bad blood.” Jem is able to overcome the burden of his family lineage, and, as the last Merlyn, he decides to leave the region to get out of the shadow of Kilmar Tor where he was raised and where his brothers died.
As the heroine of a romance novel, Mary holds some ironically unsentimental views about love and romance. Coming of age on a farm, Mary initially has a utilitarian view of love: “Mary was no hypocrite; she was bred to the soil, and she had lived too long with birds and beasts, had watched them mate, and bear their young, and die. There was precious little romance in nature, and she would not look for it in her own life” (118). She views love in a clinical way, as a means for animals to reproduce. The romance in the lives of the couples she saw courting each other along “Lovers’ Lane” near her farm would quickly fizzle out. After a year, she would observe this:
[T]he lad came home at evening tired from his work in the fields, and calling sharply that his supper was burned, not fit for a dog, while the girl snapped back at him from the bedroom overhead, her figure sagging and her curls gone, pacing backward and forward with a bundle in her arms that mewed like a cat and would not sleep (118).
While cynical, this view of love causes Mary to approach romance with a sober attitude, figuring it was not on her horizon. Meeting Jem Merlyn, however, challenges her notions of love and throws her into turmoil. Throughout the novel, Mary struggles with the tension between love and intellect, in which her logic is pitted against the growing romantic feelings she has for Jem. This theme forms the basis of her character development.
Mary’s façade of indifference erodes as she spends more time with Jem. Christmas Eve in Launceston is the turning point in their romantic arc; it is the first real day they have spent together, and they spend it like a couple. Mary cannot help but fall for Jem’s gallantry and roguish charm as she watches him craftily haggle with potential customers. However, it is not until Jem disappears at the end of the evening that Mary realizes that she has fallen for Jem. The idea of spending the night with him presents a brief conflict that underscores the theme. Her modesty prevents her from spending the night with him, but she recognizes that this is in direct odds with the desires of her heart. She is still able to reflect on her situation in a sober way, thinking, “[i]f loving a man meant this pain and anguish and sickness, she wanted none of it. It did away with sanity and composure and made havoc of courage. She was a babbling child now when once she had been indifferent and strong” (134). The internal conflict based on this theme drives the criminal plot: Because Mary is working to expose Joss as a criminal, a weakness for his brother could prove deadly.
When it appears that Jem has murdered not only Joss but also Aunt Patience, Mary is left in a bind, either forced to cover up for her aunt’s murderer or to turn in the man she loves. When hearing that the Merlyn brothers were not in league after all, “her whole mind split, as it were, by his information, the evidence she had so fearfully and so painfully built against the man she loved collapsing into nothing like a pack of cards” (221). This “split” emphasizes the battling dichotomy of love and intellect in the novel. The news that Jem is (relatively) innocent leaves Mary free to love him. The tension between love and intellect returns briefly when she almost decides to go back to Helford, but her final decision to go with Jem at the end of the novel indicates that Mary has learned to listen to her heart. The novel hence ends with a resolution of this thematic conflict, highlighting its importance to the novel’s structure.
By Daphne du Maurier