Emily Brontë’s “Wuthering Heights”

Throughout Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, several characters exhibit a palpable hatred not for men or for women in particular, but for the general population; such misanthropy contributes a curious depth to the novel that could hardly be accomplished otherwise. However, with the multitude of circumstances in which these individuals are granted latitude to express their cynicism, the reader begins to subconsciously decipher the misanthropic qualities and rank characters, compartmentalizing them by level of misanthropy. The most naturally antagonistic character, Heathcliff, serves as the immediate generalization for the full misanthrope, while other characters seem more redeemable or even likable despite such characteristics.

Analysis of the true scope of hatred, however, reveals a remarkable twist: the scale of misanthropy is weighted by experience, and thus tilts in the direction of those with least cause but greatest expression of hostility. In this way, Heathcliff may be excused of some blame for his actions and thus be matched in misanthropic tendencies by other characters of Wuthering Heights, granting acute insight into an alternate psychological world to formulate new perspectives of characters though Heathcliff’s particular actions prove inexcusable due to motivational influence.

The reader meets Heathcliff’s character as he is thrust into a family that scarcely wants him, directly from a situation where he had been orphaned; thus, when he is treated poorly by Hindley and Catherine Earnshaw, it stands to reason that he would close himself off further emotionally. Such brooding creates a strange double circumstance for the children, for Hindley recoils and swears he is the devil, while Catherine becomes intrigued and even begins regarding the idea of companionship with Heathcliff fondly rather than disgustedly. Heathcliff, in turn, becomes obsessed with revenge on Hindley and obsessed with Catherine, period. His compulsive love for Catherine, then, asserts that while he is nearly consumed by the desire to be near her, he still possesses little in the way of legitimate love or intimacy with Catherine. Further along in the story, too, his presence as a misanthrope is recognized in his association with Cathy. Lockwood comments that Cathy, “[l]iving among clowns and misanthropists, she probably cannot appreciate a better class of people, when she meets them” (Brontë 304).

Concealing one of the mentions of the word—as the word ‘misanthrope’ is occasioned very seldom in the entire novel—this sentiment exposes the bitter reality of residing with such people. It is both empathy-inducing and comparatively disturbing that Cathy must remain here in social stagnation with fools and with people who hate people. This reflects the considerable detriment to a seventeen-year-old girl who is not only isolated, but also languishing in an environment that contributes to misery and oftentimes woe—which, in turn, converts itself naturally to gloom once desperation fades over time. Heathcliff himself seems content to remain in his aggressive tendencies and abusive nature, which may both be partially attributable to his rough childhood but at the same time may not fully be excused. He hardly ever pays for his sins, however. The consistent escape-from-harm of this “selfish, asocial, impulsive” misanthrope is typically suspenseful yet frustrating, for “although she wants Heathcliff dead, Isabella, like all the other characters in the novel, cannot finally see harm done him” (Moser). Yet the reader finds solace in the idea that, if the story continues, so too does the hope for change—a change that will never be realized until, or even after, death.

All of the characters possess free will—and therefore the choice—to act in the manner in which they most prominently convey themselves. However, that choice is radically altered by both circumstantial concerns and environmental conditioning, especially when the character is under the tyrannical rule of Heathcliff at Wuthering Heights. His misanthropic nature pegs him as the most culpable of all in the department of misanthropy, despite the various excuses of which one may deem him worthy. One character who nearly equals his cynicism, Catherine Earnshaw, is largely ignored as a misanthrope and merely pegged a female to disappear into the setting in spite of her significance to the novel, exemplifying the manner in which “the narrative is shaped by the mystery the male presents and not by the drama of the supposed protagonist, the Gothic heroine” (Massé 679). Her similarity to the dark Heathcliff is unprovoked by the original tranquility of the Heights and appears to have surfaced independently of her mere association with Heathcliff, perhaps even before his arrival to the household. In one critical article involving their uncanny connection and its symbolism, “[Catherine] throws the key into the fire, which throughout the novel is associated with Heathcliff and [Catherine], and opposed to Edgar” (Moser). This commentary is in direct reference to the novel’s infamous passage depicting Catherine’s claim, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton’s is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire” (Brontë 81). They share an almost surreal quality of “otherness” that is unseen in the likes of any other character in the novel.

Later named Catherine Linton, this Catherine is quite misanthropic, for what appears to be little to no reason besides potentially being indulged too much as a child. As she grows, she becomes yet more stubborn and quick-tempered than any could have feared. Since she retains little control of emotions, she is susceptible to numerous outbursts of abusive authority that involve physical mistreatment of servants, clawing and hitting and bruising by whatever means necessary to accomplish her own selfish desires. She is similarly self-serving and considers herself from a radically different perspective than any others would gaze upon her; after one of her illnesses, she remarks that she herself “[has] endured very, very bitter misery” and, upon vowing to reconcile with Edgar, claims, “I’m an angel!” despite her ulterior motive for doing so being want of his permission to hand off Wuthering Heights to Heathcliff (Brontë 100). Throughout her life, she has been granted her many whims and spoiled by first her father and subsequently all of the men she has found herself arresting—Heathcliff, Edgar Linton, even her brother Hindley at times—in addition to servants like Nelly Dean, who experiences her wrath firsthand.

Hindley Earnshaw, increasingly misanthropic as he ages and falls nose first into alcoholism and a gambling addiction, possesses a cynical view of world that could be construed as misanthropic. While this cannot be explained away by his addictions, these likely contributed to the onset of misanthropy evident in his bearing. He, even as a relative child, hated Heathcliff and made the orphan’s life miserable even before his father showed the boy partiality. Later in life, however, he marries Frances and seems to love her—a point on the board against misanthropy there, perhaps. Yet his distrustfulness cannot be mediated enough to make him tolerate others, least of all unfamiliar ones. When a newly-married Isabella seeks entrance into Wuthering Heights, she meets him and quickly discovers that “his abstraction was evidently so deep, and his whole aspect so misanthropical, that I shrank from disturbing him again” (Brontë 138). Despite her feeling abandoned and excluded upon her arrival to this unfamiliar household, it is her unpleasant tête-á-tête with Hindley that truly discourages her. How very disagreeable a countenance, then, to make one—one who is so willing to see good in others—feel unwelcome in her own new home!

Turning away from the Earnshaw family, Linton Heathcliff is a strangely dual character who may be considered either/or: misanthrope or simple sufferer who is victimized by illness. He is characterized as sickly, with a peevish nature and low self-esteem, which is not all negative in and of itself yet asserts itself in his later interactions as his health worsens. He experiences bouts of misery that seem eerily similar to the way his father acts, and he projects his anxieties onto those around him in willingness to bring them down. In fact, he can hardly bear to see others happy. Although he woos Cathy with pretty speech and times of happiness, the occurrences of his contentment grow fewer as he sickens. His occasions of despising himself and especially others increase in frequency and contribute to a possible view of this character as misanthropic, but the accusation may be disproportionate when justified against his ill health.

This factor provides a constant source of nettling for him and restricts him from what others would deem “living life,” as he is even complacent with lying by the fireside doing absolutely nothing of productivity or educational merit. The pain often brings on breathlessness and fits of coughing that weaken him further; he also devolves into “listless apathy . . . [and the] self-absorbed moroseness of a confirmed invalid, repelling consolation, and ready to regard the good-humoured mirth of others as an insult” (Brontë 261). Yet even his compromised constitution fails to completely relieve him of guilt, for he often disparages the servants—individuals who are innocent yet unwittingly bear the brunt of his potential misanthropy—and those in the household with unequal (but similar) antipathy. Speaking of the servants and of Hareton in one instance, Linton complains about the “wretches” and Hareton laughing at him, with pride driving him to burst out, “I hate him – indeed, I hate them all – they are odious beings,” after complaining that “those detestable beings won’t bring coals to the fire” (Brontë 237). Such nasty behavior belies a deeper hatred and underlying meanness that cannot be explained away by a health crisis, no matter how protracted the ailment.

In Linton’s defense, however, he endures more than merely an illness; his father’s heavy hand in manipulating and abusing him makes for an insufferable stint at the mansion. Linton fears that he is “as worthless as [his father Heathcliff] calls me, frequently; and then I feel so cross and bitter; I hate everybody! I am worthless, and bad in temper, and bad in spirit, almost always” (Brontë 253). This tragic thought stems from the idea that, nearly as soon as his beloved mother Isabella dies, he travels willingly to Thrushcross Grange with intentions to stay—likely for an indefinite period of time—with his uncle, Edgar Linton, and cousin Cathy in contented idleness. However, the very day after his arrival, Linton is whisked away to live out his days at Wuthering Heights with Heathcliff, who intends to use the boy’s suffering to revenge his own sufferings by the hands of his rival Edgar and late wife Isabella—whom he considers cowardly and deficient.

The power-hungry despot seeks to bide his time and, using Linton, eventually control both estates, Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange. A prospective union between Linton and his cousin Cathy will allow Heathcliff to achieve unadulterated command of both properties and thus exact his vengeance on his adversaries, Hindley Earnshaw and Edgar Linton, respectively. The Heights is not the least bit conducive to recuperation from illness, which seems unfortunate but plays a direct role in Heathcliff’s vengeful scheme. Commentary from Lockwood at the very outset of the novel depicts the desolation of Wuthering Heights’ remoteness, designating it as “so completely removed from the stir of society . . . [that it is the] perfect misanthropist’s heaven” (Brontë 3). Thus, Heathcliff’s iron grip will tighten over the lands until Linton abides by his demand that Linton marry his own cousin Cathy and inevitably expires from the chilly bleakness that perpetually resides there with its few inhabitants.

Cathy Linton Heathcliff, opposed to many others in the novel, does not appear to be quite the misanthrope. However, she does occasionally exhibit the qualities necessary for such a prospect to occur. When Heathcliff abuses her, “the more hurt she gets, the more venomous she grows” (Brontë 297). It is obvious that this abuse contributes to any misanthropy she displays, for in her first thirteen years at Thrushcross Grange, she is described as gentle and cheerful, with an even temper and tender love for those around her (Brontë 189). In fact, her beginnings are characterized by devoted companionship with servants and a doting father who all served to make her unconsciously content with being restricted within the confines of the Grange. Only later, after Heathcliff’s scheming comes to fruition and she ends up at Wuthering Heights (with Heathcliff in control of both estates) is her temper worsened and any ill humor was exacerbated. There is nearly perfect reason, then, for her to be “miserable and bitter at every body”—the derision and maltreatment she suffers motivates this hostility (Brontë 313). Thus, deeming her a misanthrope would be akin to blaming a trained racehorse for being nervous and difficult to control in a paddock. Accustomed to running fast and confined to a smaller allotment of space, the horse may canter in circles in to run off the energy, much to the chagrin of an impatient trainer. Cathy becomes a product of her circumstances in nearly the same way that her cousin Linton became a product of his environment. Her other cousin, Hareton, on the other hand, is both.

Hareton is a character who seems like a conglomeration of multiple characters from the “first generation” melded together into one darkly complex enigma who may bear witness to the world but sees only its adverse conditions. This elicits no wonder, however, since his worldview is skewed by a biological father who neglects him—and has nearly killed him, (mostly) accidentally, on several occasions of drunkenness—and a father figure who may not offer the greatest model of who to become. Heathcliff unwillingly takes on the role of parent to Hareton as the former comes into possession of Wuthering Heights after lending Hindley Earnshaw—Hareton’s father—enough money to feed a gambling addiction that would, by increasing his indebtedness to Heathcliff, hastens the process by which Heathcliff acquires the estate and thusly a responsibility as Hareton’s veritable guardian. Heathcliff refuses the duty, of course, treating Hareton as more of a servant than a son and ridiculing him when the mood strikes him. He appears to be a cynical little misanthrope from a young age, especially upon Nelly’s visit when he swears at hearing mention of his real father and is intrigued when her conversation turns instead to Heathcliff. For Hareton, the father he never felt he had is able to be projected onto Heathcliff despite the latter’s unwillingness to reciprocate any attitude for or against the boy. Hareton is indeed obstinate and threatening harm to others, yet this may simply be an expression of the self-preservation he has learned firsthand over many years with Heathcliff. He has become accustomed to the abuse and therefore is not as acutely affected by its onset, proving that one’s dispassionate misanthropy may offer a redemptive respite from the horrors of another.

With relative regularity, the evidenced misanthropy furthers the plot and provides a nagging sense of unrighteousness to the reader. This forces the reader to question his or her own conduct in the world and to become aware of personal misdeeds and egotism that should be corrected so as not to act as those within the pages Brontë’s masterpiece. In the Gothic novel, of which Wuthering Heights exerts influences despite its placement in the late Victorian era, “the misanthrope is the character demanded by its world and the characteristic art of misanthropy is romantic love” (Cottom 1081). Misanthropy reigns supreme—or runs rampant, as both statements suffice with their accuracy—in its many characters as the novel ultimately explores backgrounds in an obscure analysis of psychological impact of circumstances and environment, neither of which are able to justify Heathcliff’s comportment. Even multitudinous opportunities for justification and reform are unable to convince Heathcliff to abandon his adopted duty of villainy as he deliberately smears the murky ink of his influence across the unwritten pages of their souls.

This concept is equivalent to a trope in medieval literature, whereupon characters are presented as being of varying levels of meanness or vulgarity and it is up to the reader to order them according to his or her standards. However, the “tell” is simple: how one character affects another’s ruination. In the position of most prominent illustration lies Geoffrey Chaucer’s “General Prologue” within The Canterbury Tales. This introduction to his longer work depicts a troupe of numerous characters with nothing in common besides their destination, with the piece essentially being an aggregate of the stories each shares along the journey to keep each other’s spirits raised. The prologue, however, is something of a glorified character list—merely an overview of the array of personalities found in The Canterbury Tales—¬and in order to perceive any benefit to the passage, one must first ascribe proper meaning to the descriptions within it. This is best accomplished through ranking the characters on a spectrum of guilt better known as the scale of damnation and ranging from basic hellfire to class ideal; the order is significant to note, since despite seeming arbitrary, it acts as precursor to later opportunities for organization of characters and for the proportionately smaller yet denser inventory from Wuthering Heights in particular.

The worst of the worst on the scale of damnation prove to be not the murderers who killed the earthly bodies of their victims, but those reprobates like the adulterous Friar and scheming Pardoner who, though they killed no one, led innocent souls astray or harmed others’ prospects of attaining a place in Heaven. Thus, utilizing this classification system on the characters of Wuthering Heights questions the merit of those misanthropes like Linton Heathcliff and Hindley Earnshaw, both occasionally acting wretched but substantiated by circumstance or experience nonetheless. They would each fall somewhere closer to the non-ideal end of the spectrum, but Cathy Linton (later known as Cathy Heathcliff) would arguably balance out the scale, since her perspective may have become darkened and her countenance sour after growing up pure and gentle, but her heart returned to the right place and the only individual she misled seems to be herself. Heathcliff, however, would overwhelmingly tip the scale toward hellfire.

He interferes with the souls of those around him—Hareton, Linton, even Cathy—by corrupting them as he modifies their conduct and thus their souls to assume the same darkness as his, evident as their actions take on tyrannical proportions and succeed in grieving those around them in the same manner as their influencer. Misanthropy may serve one bit of good for Heathcliff, though: “Looking at Heathcliff’s revenge, for example, it is claimed, that it is not his actions which are important but the process he goes through, because that is the way he ensures his self a survival in isolation after Catherine’s death” (Kirchknopf). Considering his experiences, Heathcliff’s perpetual brooding and the all-encompassing darkness he exudes may have protected him from experiencing greater emotional damage than grief’s paw could grasp on him. And, despite the contradictions between the actions of Heathcliff and characters like Hindley and Catherine Earnshaw, his misanthropic tendencies are just about even with Hindley’s drunken wrath on occasion and Catherine’s unprovoked hatred of others at times. The deciding factor that outweighs even the most viable of reasons toward his justification, however, is that Heathcliff causes others to become corrupt themselves on account of his overall attitude and ill treatment of them. In full acknowledgment of the seeming inanity of the statement, Heathcliff is the cruelest misanthrope because he not only causes others to suffer, but also causes others to cause others to suffer.

Did you like this example?

1171

49