By common consent Wuthering Heights is a remarkable book. I do not propose
to discuss its literary merits, but to confine myself to the humbler
task of investigating its structure, which presents certain peculiarities.
Whether this is worth doing I do not know, but I found that it added
to my interest in the book and made the tale much more vivid for me.
The main theme is how a sort of human cuckoo, called Heathcliff, sets
out with success to acquire all the property of two families, the Earnshaws
and the Lintons. The tale is a fairly complicated one, and the incidents
extend over a period of more than thirty years.
How is a long story like this to be told ? How is the reader's interest
to be excited? How is the tale to be kept together? How are we to be
made to feel the lapse of time without being pestered by dates? How far
did the authoress accurately visualise the ages of the characters in
the different incidents, the topography, and so on? And how did Heathcliff
succeed in getting the property? These are the questions I attempt to
answer.
The most obvious thing about the structure of the story which deals
with three generations is the symmetry of the pedigree. Mr. and Mrs.
Earnshaw at Wuthering Heights and Mr. and Mrs. Linton at Thrushcross
Grange each have one son and one daughter, Mr. Linton's son marries Mr.
Earnshaw's daughter, and their only child Catherine marries successively
her two cousins—Mr. Linton's grandson and Mr. Earnshaw's grandson.
See the pedigree on [the genealogy page].
In actual life I have never come across a pedigree of such absolute
symmetry. I shall have to refer to this pedigree again later. It is a
remarkable piece of symmetry in a tempestuous book.
The method adopted to arouse the reader's interest and to give vividness
and reality to the tale is one which has been used with great success
by Joseph Conrad. But it requires great skill.
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After Edgar Linton's death, Mr. Lockwood, the narrator, takes Thrushcross
Grange for a year. He goes to call on his landlord, Heathcliff, at Wuthering
Heights, and is puzzled to find there a farouche young woman and an awkward
boor. At first he supposes Catherine to be Heathcliff's wife; when told
she is his daughter-in-law, he then supposes that Hareton is Heathcliff's
son, and has again to be corrected. He, and the reader, are naturally
puzzled at this strange trio. Lockwood calls again, and is forced to
spend the night because of a heavy fall of snow. In his room he finds
some books with the name Catherine Earnshaw and Catherine Linton, and
a sort of diary of Catherine's in a childish hand which gives a vivid
picture of the situation just after her father's death. Mr. Lockwood
has a nightmare in which Catherine's spirit comes to the window, and
he also witnesses a strange scene of Heathcliff imploring Catherine's
spirit. Our interest cannot fail now to be excited. What is this strange
man and this strange ménage? Who was this Catherine who died years
before? What were her relations with Heathcliff? Naturally, Lockwood
is much intrigued. On his way back next day he catches a chill and becomes
ill. To pass the time he asks Ellen Dean, the housekeeper at Thrushcross
Grange, what she knows about the family at Wuthering Heights. She, who
was first Hareton's nurse and then the younger Catherine's, tells him
the story of the past thirty years in considerable detail. So that during
the major part of the book Mr. Lockwood is telling us what Ellen Dean
told him, but sometimes, also, what Ellen Dean told him that someone
else—for instance, Isabella—had told her. Only a small part,
perhaps one-tenth of the book, consists of direct narrative by Lockwood
from his own knowledge. But such a scheme may be confusing, and it is
easy to muddle the time. Did Emily Brontë realise and let us know
the dates when each event happened? She did, but not by giving them directly.
Look again at the pedigree. The dates there have all been derived from
the book, yet only one is directly stated. What first brought me to study
the book more closely was when I noticed that the first word in the book
was a date—1801. I thought this must have some significance. Similarly,
the first word of Chapter XXXII is 1802. Apart from this, only one other
date is given directly. In the last sentence of Chapter VII, Ellen Dean
says, “I will be content to pass on to the next summer—the
summer of 1778, that is, nearly twenty-three years ago.” This gives
no further information, as 1801 is twenty-three years after 1778, but
in the first sentence of the next chapter she tells us that Hareton was
born in June. This is how I get June 1778 for Hareton's birth in the
pedigree. But what about the rest of the dates, not only those in the
pedigree but of all the incidents in the story? There are a considerable
number (perhaps nearly a hundred) indications of various kinds to help
us—intervals of time, ages of characters, the months, the harvest
moon, the last grouse, and so forth, and we learn, incidentally, that
the younger Catherine's birthday was on 20th March. Sometimes, too, we
know the day of the week— thus Ellen Dean will remember something
which happened on a Sunday, or on a Christmas Eve. Taking all these indications,
it is, I think, possible to ascertain the year, and, in most cases, the
month of the year in which every event takes place—also the ages
of the various characters, except, naturally, there is a slight doubt
as to Heathcliff, because no one knows his exact age when he was found
by Mr. Earnshaw. But one has to go warily and consider all the indications
together, for there is a curious subtlety that sometimes the characters
are described as looking some ages which are not exact. Thus Lockwood
when he first describes them says that Heathcliff was about forty and
Catherine did not look seventeen. In fact, Catherine was seventeen and
three-quarters and Heathcliff cannot have been more than thirty-eight.
It would be too tedious to state the process by which I have discovered
each date. But I will give one or two illustrations. We already know
that Hareton was born in June 1778; we are told that he was nearly five
when Catherine Earnshaw married Edgar Linton, so that the marriage was
before June 1783. But Heathcliff returned in September after they had
been happily married for six months. Thus the marriage was in April 1783.
We are told that the scene that led to Catherine's death was a Sunday
in the March after Heathcliff's return, and that her daughter, Catherine,
was born about midnight, and the mother died two hours later. Later on
we learn that Catherine's birthday was the 20th (and that this was also
treated as the day of her mother's death). Hence Catherine died at 2
a.m. on Monday, 20th March 1784.
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I will give only one other instance. Lockwood begins his account in
1801; it is snowy weather, which might be in January or February or in
November or December. But he returns in 1802 before his year's tenancy
is out. Hence the story begins at the end of 1801. A Michaelmas tenancy
begins on the 10th October—not on 29th September—because
when the calendar was reformed eleven days were left out. Therefore,
the story begins after 10th October 1801. Now after Lockwood has been
ill three weeks Heathcliff sends him some grouse, the last of the season.
Since the Game Act, 1831, grouse may not be shot after 10th December,
so we may take this as about the date for the last grouse. Thus the story
begins about the middle of November, and this fits pretty well with the
later indications. That is sufficient to illustrate the process. Sometimes
it is only by fitting together several indications, each rather vague,
that one can find the month. There is, however, one curious fact. We
can ascertain Hindley's age. Now Ellen Dean was of the same age. She
was his foster sister, and the doctor also refers to her as being of
the same age as Hindley. Yet she makes two mistakes about her own age.
Middle-aged people do, of course, make mistakes about their age, and
these slips may have been intentional on the part of Emily Brontë,
but, if so, it seems to me a little over-subtle.
The topography is equally precise. On going from Thrushcross Grange
to the village of Gimmerton a highway branches off to the moor on the
left. There is a stone pillar there. Thrushcross Grange lies to the south-west,
Gimmerton to the east, and Wuthering Heights to the north. The distance
from Thrushcross Grange to Wuthering Heights is four miles, and Penistone
Crags lie a mile and a half farther on. It was half an hour from Gimmerton
to Thrushcross Grange.
The botany is sure to be correct. Emily Brontë loved the country.
I was a little surprised to find an ash tree in bud as early as 20th
March, but then I realised that it was not on the moor but in the park
at Thrushcross Grange, which lay low and was no doubt sheltered.
[Sanger here considers the legal aspects of the novel.
This is reproduced on the Legal page]
