Livre Or Die

epilogue |ˈepəˌlôg; -ˌläg| (also epilog)
noun
a section or speech at the end of a book or play that serves as a comment on or a conclusion to what has happened.
ORIGIN late Middle English : from French épilogue, via Latin from Greek epilogos, from epi ‘in addition’ + logos ‘speech.’

Epilogue

Despite its location at the start of Volume 2, Chapter 2 would serve – heterodox (to borrow one of Lockwood’s words, meaning unconventional) – as an epilogue to the histrionics, the “theatre of passion” (for one hardly needs to argue that hair-tearing is dramatic) of Volume 2 Chapter 1.

Just as she pronounces judgement on Heathcliff’s role in the saga (between V1 Ch 10 and V2 Ch 1) as a “luckless presence” (p. 144), she serves as a true narrator – the author’s voice – in Ch 2, suggesting that Catherine’s death brings her not to the “hell” of a life without Heathcliff, but a haven, a place where she can gain “repose” (p. 145) from her emotional struggle and the guilt from betraying herself and Heathcliff. Nelly concludes the action, delivering a final word on Catherine’s “wayward and impatient existence“. We, the reader, are once again made to recall Catherine’s responsibility, a la Desdemona for those cognisant of Othello,  in her own tragedy. According to Nelly , she merits no such “blessed release” or “haven” in her violence and cruelty to herself, to Heathcliff and essentially, to the world of Wuthering Heights. In no uncertain terms, Catherine has brought destruction and (emotional) devastation.

Enrichment

Within Greek tragedy, you find a Greek Chorus – a group of actors who comment (by speaking or singing in unison) on the action – that served as a “moral educator”. Art, or more ancient art, was primarily valued not quite on aesthetic (i.e. for its beauty) qualities but rather, for its moral function.

Evidently, Nelly, like a Greek Chorus, is both narrator and participant in the action and “judges” characters FOR the reader. She explicitly draws our attention to Catherine’s failings (self-betrayal, bad faith, refusal to choose, selfish desires), therein making Bronte’s text in some way a morality tale, meant to “educate” the reader.

Suffering and the name Catherine

As Nelly closes one door (on Catherine), another opens (in the form of Catherine’s daughter, Catherine Linton). Similarly named, Bronte is as good as shouting to her reader, “SHE’S A DOUBLE REPLACING HER MOTHER, DON’T YOU SEE DON’T YOU SEE!” Baby Cathy (henceforth referred to as Cathy) is seemingly set up to suffer the same way her mother did in the latter’s dying moments. Where birth and life is to celebrated, Cathy is instead treated with disdain. While Nelly regards her as a “great addition”, Edgar perceives her as “his being left without an heir” – a liability in the sense that Cathy too has indirectly caused the downfall, the disintegration of Thrushcross Grange: since the Lintons will lose the Grange “because of” Cathy, her birth too is seemingly “violent“. What a novel! Will she suffer the same cruelty? We, the enlightened reader, already knows she does, so there is a definite foreshadowing of her life as one of a victim, one of great misery…

Heathcliff and Catherine Redux

It is also in Ch 2 that we see the beginnings of Heathcliff’s absolute dedication to Catherine, prefiguring how Catherine consumes Heathcliff’s life for the next twenty years. At the bottom of page 147, we see Heathcliff wanting to know, “did she ever mention me?”, and “dread[ing] the answer to his question”; all of Bronte’s signs point to Heathcliff’s obsessive, insecure, selfish love. Selfishness here alludes more to the unqualified want of Catherine.

“May she wake in torment!” he cried, with frightful vehemence..

“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest, as long as I am living! You said I killed you – haunt me, then!”.. (p 147)

He dashed his head against the knotted trunk; and lifting up his eyes, howled, not like a man, but like a savage beast…

It does seem like selfishness of the “I only want her to love me, me me” variety in his initial “curse” (first quote). Yet, Heathcliff’s second malediction / curse – calling for Catherine to “haunt” him – emphasises not the hurt or “torment” he wishes upon Catherine, but in fact his desire for them to be together forever, even after death. Love that transcends mortality? Uh huh.

Bronte almost seems to be in Laurentian (D H Lawrence?) overdrive here. The third quote aptly suggests that only Heathcliff, a savage beast, is capable such a transcendental love. Society and culture, represented by Edgar and Isabella, are feeble both physically and emotionally and so unable to love in the fashion Catherine and Heathcliff do. At the end, Bronte uses setting to comment on this:

“The place of Catherine’s interment to the surprise of the villagers was neither in the chapel, under the carved monument of the Lintons, nor yet by the tombs of her own relations outside. It was dug on a green slope, in a corner of the kirkyard, where the wall is so low that heath and bilberry plants have climbed over it from the moor…” (p. 149)

While this excerpt lacks the subtlety (c’mon, the symbolism is obvious!), it makes up for it with the sheer beauty of the images. Catherine is identified by Heathcliff as “Catherine Earnshaw” on p. 148, signalling to the reader how he sees and treasures only the “natural”, pre-gentile Catherine of old. Here, upon her death, Catherine belongs to neither the Earnshaw or the Lintons. She is not even buried “formally”; her grave is on a slope, away from the traditional burial sites of the church and her family tombs. This slope is obviously symbolic of nature and of the world Heathcliff belongs (with its shrubs and heaths).

Even if Edgar Linton “lies in the same spot” (this contradicts the “she belongs with Heathcliff” argument a little), Bronte quite deliberately tells us that Catherine has found her repose, her haven literally in nature.

In the name of strangeness: a recap on narration

In “The Strangeness of Wuthering Heights“, Arnold Krupat underscores the fact that “all experience of fiction is strange”. Yet, Wuthering Heights, to Krupat, proves an “uncomfortable book precisely because it is a book which suggests that no telling can properly convey this tale”.

There is according to Krupat, a refusal by Bronte to “create a single narrative voice comprehensive enough” to capture the material, the prima materia of the novel (22). Lockwood and Nelly are of course the “chief narrators of the book” and there is “no existence for the events” of the novel outside of what we read from Lockwood or Nelly.

This refusal has also made the faults of Bronte’s narration method fairly evident, adding to the “strangeness” not just of the novel but of Bronte’s stylistic decision. Despite being a “Country Servant” 0f little or no education, is able to re-present the fluidity, complexity and even the most lexcially challenging words of Edgar, Isabella and Catherine Linton’s dialogue. Even her speech is markedly abound with impressive vocabulary. She is almost too covert, too sneaky to be a real character; she eavesdrops and hears everything, narrating it for us / Lockwood in all its original richness. It’s inconceivable, really! Before we start exploring the intricacies of Chapter 13, we must consider that Isabella’s letter, no matter how veritable, truthful and accurate it is compared to Nelly and Lockwood’s filtering of the story, is still told to us through Nelly (see pg 119).

Putting the extract in context

When encountering Catherine’s diary, Isabella’s letter or any textual detail that lies beyond Nelly’s and Lockwood’s subjective viewpoints, you will need to point out the difference in objectivity from previous chapters; Chapter 13 is undoubtedly more “objective” and “factual” than Nelly’s narration of events but is not and cannot be fully objective and factual.

What does the chapter “do” in the context of the chapters before and after Ch 13? In Chapter 11, we are let in on Heathcliff’s intentions in marrying Isabella, the cunning of which is heightened by the love (however violent and spiteful) we see between Heathcliff and Catherine. In Chapter 12, we “see” (or rather, don’t see! This is important!) Isabella elope with Heathcliff. In Chapter 13, Nelly reveals that the two months had passed since the dual shock of Isabella’s departure and Catherine’s brain fever. Even though two months (in actual, story time) have passed, only two pages separate the events of Ch 12 from Isabella’s letter. Consequently, we can argue this acceleration in plot is wholly deliberate: it delivers the consequences of Isabella’s elopement very quickly to the reader. Bronte, through Nelly, even highlights this to the reader, reminding us that this letter is “odd coming from the pen of a bride just out of the honeymoon” (119).

Why is this important? We already learnt about Heathcliff’s malevolent plot in Chapter 11. Chapter 12 shows the speed with which he acts. Chapter 13 then marks for us the speed with which he has exacted his “revenge” on Catherine and/or the Linton household (subject to your interpretation) via his abuse / torment of Isabella. Bronte’s choice (to “deliver” Isabella’s letter quite so soon) removes suspense – which comes from anticipation and not knowing – as well as illustrates the potency and ferocity of Heathcliff’s will for revenge.

Heathcliff

On page 120, Isabella asks rhetorical question upon rhetorical question.

Is Mr. Heathcliff a man? If so, is he mad? And if not, is he a devil? I shan’t tell my reasons for making this inquiry but I beseech you to explain, if you can, what I have married – that is, when you call to see; and you must call, Ellen, very soon.

(Purpose) These questions are clearly rhetorical; Isabella is in fact suggesting that Heathcliff is at once, not a man, is mad, and is a devil. (Effect) That three rhetorical questions are asked is significant in illustrating not just Isabella’s uncertainty but also her helplessness in her self-prescribed circumstance. Suggestion is arguably more powerful than giving the reader her opinion literally; (Effect + Purpose) the reader is left to imagine the demented “madness” and rage within Heathcliff’s abuse as well as the unwavering “evil” contained within Heathcliff’s “devil[ish]” ways. Indeed, Bronte intentionally leaves out the details by having Isabella choose not to divulge her “reasons”. Having seemingly shattered the suspense, Bronte merely re-creates it, adding to the mystery of Heathcliff and his true “evil”, for he is a “what” and not a “who“, an animal, a “devil” and only maybe a “man”.

Hindley

Isabella is an important plot device here; as she (and not Nelly) is at Wuthering Heights, she communicates the events at Wuthering Heights, or in this instance, the state Hindley has dragged himself into. He is “slovenly” and “messy”, devoid of life (“ghostly”). Reduced to what we would associate more with a savage figure (Heathcliff?), Isabella again suggests, hints, implies Heathcliff’s maleficence and annihilation of all at a very desolate Wuthering Heights.

After a short suspense it was opened by a tall, gaunt man, without neckerchief, and otherwise extremely slovenly; his features were lost n masses of shaggy hair that hung on his shoulders, and his eyes, too, were like a ghostly Catherine’s, with all their beauty annihilated (121)…

It’s well the hellish villain has kept his word!” growled my future host (122).

Isabella

Likewise, the old Isabella has been effaced by the destructive force of Heathcliff. Bronte emphasises this “loss”:

“My name was Isabella Linton,” I replied..

Nevertheless, Bronte’s construction of Isabella still holds. She still represents the Lintons, the gentry; her language, ever so crucial to our understanding of Heathcliff’s strangely elevated style in Chapter 14 (page 133), is still overly refined and aristocratic. Page 122 provides the reader an abundance of such language in Isabella’s narration. Sentence structure is complex and the vocabulary reminds us of Lockwood but isn’t nearly as pompous / circumlocutory.

the once brilliant pewter dishes which used to attract my gaze when I was a girl partook of a similar obscurity, created by tarnish and dust.

Mr Earnshaw vouchsafed no answer. He walked up and down, with his hands in his pockets, apparently quite forgetting my presence; and his abstraction was evidently so deep, and his whole aspect so misanthropical, that I shrank from disturbing him again.

You’ll not be surprised, Ellen, at my feeling particularly cheerless, seated in worse than solitude on that inhospitable hearth, and remembering that four miles distant lay my delightful home, containing the only people I loved on earth… (122)

The language befits no doubt Isabella’s social standing; you will not require any better examples of Isabella’s language than those above. It may also be useful to take note that in the last quote, Isabella expresses her desire for her “delightful home” as well as her absolute lack of love – if not hatred – for Heathcliff. As Isabella adjudges on page 128 (last page of Ch 13),

“the adjective our gave mortal offence. He swore it was not, nor ever should be mine… he is ingenious and unresting in seeking to gain my abhorrence! I sometimes wonder at him with an intensity that deadens my fear: yet, I assure you, a tiger or a venomous serpent could not rouse terror in me equal to that which he wakens. He told me of Catherine’s illness and accused my brother of causing it; promising that I should be Edgar’s proxy in suffering, till he could get a hold of him.”

Here, the italicisation of “our” (a possessive adjective that highlights a “union” between Isabella and Heathcliff) together with the words “mortal offence” tell the reader of Catherine’s complete revulsion towards Heathcliff. Her choice of images are certainly carefully selected: Heathcliff’s savagery, cruelty is beyond that of even the fiercest of predators. The use of “serpent” may even be a Biblical allusion, suggestive of Heathcliff’s betrayal of Isabella’s trust (however naive) and vile treachery in the name of revenge (against Edgar). Isabella douses her hatred with mild praise of Heathcliff’s determination as “ingenious” and “unresting”; his passion is met with “intense” wonder from Isabella, remarkable perhaps for the love for Catherine hidden beneath the anger and violence (It may also be important to note that Isabella offers her account of Heathcliff’s action – he is veritably acting against Edgar and not Catherine).

The Feminine

In reiterating Isabella’s disdain, “wretched” state and having Isabella admit her own folly, Bronte reminds us that Isabella is the victim here. The swift succession of lines, each breaking the previous line, depicts Isabella’s frailty in the face of Heathcliff, the “evil beast” that has sprung and destroyed.

I do hate him – I am wretched – I have been a fool! (128)

The reader is perhaps left with no doubt who between Edgar and Heathcliff is to triumph. The gentry – the sphere of culture – is here represented by the voice of a woman (Isabella). The gentry is itself feminine (compounded by Edgar’s own feeble nature) and subject to the graces (or lackthereof!) / violence of the natural world, of Heathcliff’s world.

I shall expect you every day – don’t disappoint me!

After all, this world is so helpless that it must depend on a lowly country servant to rescue it / her.