Section A Essay - Wuthering Heights - Gothic Narrators/Setting

The Gothic elements of Wuthering Heights are made credible by the novel’s setting and ‘narrators.’ How far would you agree with this view?

[40/40, A* - Not Timed]

In many ways, Bronte’s use of setting and narrators seem to add a sense of realism and normality to the supernatural, gothic elements of the novel – we are told of the events of transgression and the ethereal through the frame of the very socialised, concrete narrators of Nelly and Lockwood, and the civilised, societal setting of Thrushcross Grange seems to provide not only a juxtaposition to the distinctly gothic setting of Wuthering Heights, but also acts as an anchor in reality – arguably lending credibility to the more abstract, ghostly elements of the novel. However, while these narrators/settings may bring a touch of realism and normality to the novel, they do not bring credibility, and in fact we are presented with a world where it seems society is the lie; holding us back from the wild, raw elements of our human psyche and exaggerating such things to the point where one has to wonder if perhaps many of these gothic elements – of evil, transgression, and the supernatural – are really little more than hyperbolic fantasy, bred by our ‘credible’ narrators to demonise that which does not fit in normal society.

The duality of settings within the novel (arguably a gothic element in itself), namely the two houses, Thrushcross Grange and Wuthering Heights, seems to present us with a lens through which to believably, almost rationally even, witness the gothic. We can see how supernatural, ethereal, and liminal Wuthering Heights is, because the grange is so concrete and normalised; we can see how wild and raw the inhabitants of the Heights are, because those at Grange are so civilised (after a short stay, Cathy is morphed from a ‘wild hatless savage’ to a ‘very dignified person’). As opposed to the thorns that govern Wuthering Heights, the Grange has a ‘flower pot’ – even the nature is tamed and gentle, symbolic of society. The house exudes luxury and excess; ‘a splendid place carpeted with crimson’ (Bronte’s choice of ‘crimson’ over simply ‘red’ connotes greater majesty and wealth), ‘crimson-covered chairs’ (in contrast to Wuthering Heights’ green, ‘primitive structures’), and ‘a shower of glass-drops hanging in silver chains’ – presenting the Grange as ornate, delicate, and beautiful – a thoroughly socially acceptable place, and one which we are perhaps encouraged to use as a benchmark by which to view the gothic elements of the novel. While Wuthering Heights embraces nature entirely, and provides a sinister, wild setting for the supernatural elements of the novel to occur, Thrushcross Grange brings a sense of realism to these otherwise-dubious events by acting as an anchor of ‘normality’ among the chaos, and in this sense could be said to lend credibility to the novel’s the more ‘gothic’ elements.

That said, even the pristine, civilised world of the Grange isn’t without a tinge of darker, unpolished elements – and these subtle, almost unnoticeable, injections of gothic themes beneath the lexicon of grandeur and shiny veneer of normality creates a sort of dissonance, perhaps subconsciously, for the reader – leading us perhaps to question the credibility of such a setting, and whether or not things really are what they seem. Here we are presented with a ‘splendid’ and ‘heavenly’ place, that we assume to be our point of reference from which to judge the gothic, wild nature of Wuthering Heights, and yet when Heathcliff and Cathy first stumble upon the house they observe not peaceful harmony, but ‘quarrelling’, ‘weeping’, and screaming – the polished appearance of the house is not carried through in the behaviour of its inhabitants. Isabella is described as ‘shrieking as if witches were running red hot needles into her’ – connoting suffering, pain, and perhaps even a sense of sin (implicitly gathered from the term ‘witches’). In fact, Heathcliff implies that the grandeur of the setting has spoilt and tainted the spirits of the children, making them petty and ungrateful, and he would not ‘exchange [his] condition…for a thousand lives’. This puts as at a crossroads – we are unsure which ‘world’ in the novel we should trust, who is really telling the truth. Are we on the side of civilised society, of the grange, that exposes for us the terrifying, cruel elements of the human psyche laid bare at Wuthering Heights – and presenting a credible account of these gothic elements? Or is the shiny veneer of society little more than a façade to keep us from the true freedom of ourselves – unfairly demonising that which is wild and natural as gruesome, and even supernatural, as a tool for oppression?

Similarly, and perhaps uncharacteristically for a gothic novel, our narrators (Nelly and Lockwood) seem to frame the sublime, supernatural world of gothic transgression with their more reasoned, conventional humanity – almost normalising the ethereal qualities of the novel by acting as anchors to civilisation. Lockwood is presented as well educated; a traveller from civilised society witnessing the ‘shocking’ events of the wild moors – he talks politely and eloquently (‘I do myself the honour of calling as soon as possible’) and so initially it appears we can perhaps use him as a credible narrator to add a touch of realism to otherwise unbelievable events. That said, Bronte frequently hints at Lockwood’s flaws as a narrator – he is presented as fallible and unreliable, and his character is almost used to mock conventional society;  self-absorbed and ‘educated’ to such an extent that he misuses terms and misinterprets events. His language is flowery and convoluted (stating ‘the gate over which he leant manifested no sympathising movement to the words’, when ‘he didn’t open the gate’ would have sufficed) and ill-equipped to describe accurately the events of such a wild, gothic setting. He also comes across as pompous, oblivious, and an incredibly bad judge of character – he brands himself as ‘reserved’ and a ‘misanthropist’ and yet rushes off immediately to meet Heathcliff, who he then perceives overzealously as a ‘capital fellow!’, despite him ‘interrupting’ and ‘wincing’ when speaking to Lockwood. Clearly, we are to doubt Lockwood’s ability to discern the true nature of the world around him, and so it cannot be said that he makes any events, gothic or otherwise, more credible.

Nelly, from whom we learn the majority of events about Heathcliff’s past, is also extremely biased and fallible as a narrator. While initially we are perhaps drawn to her rhetoric – she seems the most ‘normal’, down-to-earth character among the chaos of the others, and does seem to present herself as an ‘observer’ (and therefore in the same role as us) despite actually being heavily invested in the action. Her depiction of events is often charged with overemotional language (a characteristic of the gothic genre, but one we would perhaps not expect from a ‘credible’, reliable narrator) – she frequently speaks of Heathcliff’s actions as ‘diabolical’ and even admits she ‘plagued [him] shamefully’ throughout his life – later stumbling on almost an epiphany and remarking that she ‘thought Heathcliff himself less guilty than [her]’. By demonstrating, both through her emotionally-charged account of events, and her level of involvement in shaping them, Bronte subtly hints that Nelly, as a narrator, cannot be trusted. While it’s true that she represents the reasoned, civilised world of society, Nelly is presented as restricting and overly critical of that which transgresses the boundaries of what she deems acceptable (for example, emphasising to Cathy that she should not go to visit the rocks on the moors as they are ‘not worth the trouble of visiting’) – and from this we gather that she, perhaps acting as a symbol for conventional society, has ulterior motives and delivers a demonised, less-than-credible account of things. After admitting her initial bias about Heathcliff’s origins (branding him ‘it’ and focusing on his status as a ‘gypsy’) perhaps Nelly actually makes his depiction as a gothic villain less credible, one has to wonder if he was (as she seems to make out) always an intrinsically evil, devilish being, or whether her views on his social class and outsider status led her to demonise his every action – presenting us with what appears to be a distinctly gothic character, when really Heathcliff is simply an abused orphan whom society looks down upon?

In this sense, it is hard to argue that Bronte’s use of setting and narrators lends any sort of credibility to the gothic elements of the novel. As is characteristic of the genre, they do seem to act as anchors of realism and normality that, by contrast, emphasis the gothic – but perhaps this is an overemphasis rather than a credible presentation, and our settings and narrators are not quite what they seem, with hidden agendas and a task to demonise and over exaggerate any elements that deviate from the norm and what is ‘acceptable’, and to brand such transgressions as ‘evil’, ‘supernatural’, and ‘gothic’.