Names are also symbolic of this knot, and thus become relative to the relation between guidance and independence. The most striking example is Lockwood’s discovery, in Wuthering Heights, of the inscribed names: Catherine Linton, Catherine Earnshaw and Catherine Heathcliff. Here are three very different individuals. By stating each of them, the author avoids acting as a guide, leaving the narrator and the reader confused and confounded. The true Catherine is submerged within these three identities, (even literally with her name placed between her two lovers), and by writing them down she has shown that she has no clear idea where her life is taking her, or by whom she will be guided by – be it herself, Linton or Heathcliff. In addition, as J.Hillis Miller has stated, Linton Heathcliff’s name is an oxymoron. Thus, because his identity combines two (incompatible) families, ‘how can a name be ‘proper’ to a character and indicate his individuality if it is also held by others?’, (Hillis-Miller, 1982). Wuthering Heights presents a claustrophobic world, in which exist characters that are not unique but form part of the same system (Hillis-Miller, 1982). Not only is “the air swarmed with Catherine’s”, but different versions of the same people; who are not individuals but guide one another through the same landscapes, the same rooms and the same relationships. Yet they are not the same people. The younger Cathy is stronger, and is able to pass through the (teenage) romantic delusion, that her mother could not, by recognising and deciding to distance herself from Edgar Linton. Hareton, the embodiment of the younger Heathcliff, is able to read, so that he can interpret and understand his surrounding clearly, (rather than missing any part of ‘the conversation’). What remains to be answered, however is whether these individuals can avoid being haunted and ultimately guided by the “unquiet slumbers” of their predecessors, that Lockwood found so hard to imagine.
“Unquiet slumbers” is an apt description for the passions of the protagonists in each of the two novels. Lucy Snowe, in fact experiences an opium induced walk through the night, instead of sleeping. Yet because Charlotte Bronte centred ‘on the individual attempting to survive in [a hostile] world’, (Green, 1974) Lucy Snowe distances herself from such feminine sensibilities. She will not allow herself to be guided by her imagination, and ultimately her heart. She cannot afford to, hence “instead of presenting characters as the unimpeded flowering of individual, simple, passionate essences, Charlotte sees life as a long struggle for existence between the individual and her or his [like Heathcliff] environment”, (Green, 1974). Victorian realism is a significant guiding force in Villette, though it is one that is enforced at the expense of part of the self. Lucy denies that she has an imagination, ‘I, Lucy Snowe, plead guiltless of that cause, an overheated and discursive imagination’. It is almost as if she puts herself up for trial, in which she has to prove that she feels nothing. Even her name provokes the feeling that she is cold and unapproachable – and unapproachable she is. She lies to the reader and purposely retains information about herself and other characters that might lead to the reader to ask questions about her inner self. She only chooses to tell us about the sudden arrival of Graham Bretton when it suited her ‘habit of thought’ (Kermode, 1993). Charlotte allows Lucy to break the unwritten contract of first –person narration, and even at the end of the novel we are questioning whether we are any closer to the real Lucy. She does not allow herself to be guided by Romantic and Gothic traditions (Leavis, 1983), which lead to the repression, even literally, of her passionate feelings. After writing two letters to Graham, the one under the dry and stinting check of Reason’ and the other ‘according to the full, liberal impulse of Feeling’ she buries them. She can only allow herself to be guided by Reason, it is too much for her acknowledge herself and her feelings, and so, although the heroine of the novel, becomes almost invisible to the reader and those around her. In many ways her repressed individuality manifests itself onto other characters. She allows herself to be guided by others lives, so that she can avoid dealing with her own feelings. Polly, at the start of the novel, even appears to be the novel’s heroine. Lucy questioning over, ‘how will she get through this world, or battle with this life? How will she bear the shocks and repulses, the humiliations and desolations…?’. Yet is this question really about Polly, or herself?
Religion as the ideal guiding influence is also, in many ways, a shattered passion. Together with the repeated demonic imagery of Heathcliff, Nelly tells him ‘that from the time you were thirteen years old, you have lived a selfish, unchristian life, and probably hardly ever had a Bible in your hands’. Yet maybe the Book does not fit so easily within Heathcliff’s? The conventional and somewhat straightforward Christian good and evil are blurred within Wuthering Heights. The individual is caught between ‘The Helmet of Salvation’ and ‘The Broad Way to Destruction’, used by Joseph in his forceful preaching, so as to guide the two unruly youngsters. Heathcliff, as the outsider, shatters the sound assurance of God and the Christian hierarchy. To this individual this structured guidance signifies repression and destruction. He is treated unfairly within it, and despite being compared to Satan the reader retains a great deal of sympathy for him. As Peter Hyland, has suggested, Heathcliff resembles more the Satan of Milton’s Paradise Lost, in which the Devil becomes attractive because he is suffering and struggling to ‘fit in’, hence the ‘hero/villain’ confusion, as Peter Hyland suggested, that is attached to the character of Heathcliff. As in George Eliot’s essay ‘The Antigone and It’s Morals’, both sides are ‘contending for what [he/she] believes is right’ (Eliot 1992, 245), though it is clear that Emily Bronte blurs Victorian morals with a sympathetic ‘devil-like’ individual, and forces the reader to question what sort of society they are allowing themselves to be guided by.
Certainly the question of what justice is becomes very difficult, almost suggesting that it is only relative in relation to the individual. Charlotte Bronte’s heroine, Lucy, is, in fact asked to write an essay on Human Justice, (chapter 35). After realising that the two men asking her to write the essay were the two that scared her in the alley on her first arrival she becomes inspired by the title. ‘Pious mentors…Pure guides of truth’, she proclaims, ‘if “Human Justice” were what she ought to be, you two would scarce hold your present post, or enjoy your present credit [!]’. Like Heathcliff, here is an individual that has been ill treated by the so-called just guidance of society, not to mention religion. She goes on to write a spirited and highly individual essay that shows Justice, the guide, as sitting in a ‘warm seat’ of ignorance, not noticing individuals, ‘a swarm of children sick and quarrelsome…[that]…yelled in her ears appeals for notice, sympathy, cure, [and] redress’ (p.495), but caught up in her own high-minded block ideal of what guidance is, far from achieving the truth.
Fending for themselves in a largely hostile, alien (indicated in the foreign tongue of Villette) and unwelcoming world the characters of the two novels, in particular Lucy and Heathcliff, the two outsiders, are the exceptions to the conventional guiding forces of birth names, religion, the heart, and human justice. Lucy almost shows that she feels safer alone. She has an immense amount of courage, indispensable to her in a foreign country without any close relations, and then to find her only true love presumably swept out to sea. The metaphor of her past life - the shipwreck, shows in some cases that her life, without any family is without any real compass or direction, but she takes hold of her destiny (or repressed individuality) with a firm hand, like the nun, she realises ‘approach I must – courage one step’. Heathcliff, alternatively, finds his courage or individuality in his own hurt. The bitter man that he evolves to be cannot find another guide because the one that he felt himself to be – Cathy, in his eyes has forsaken him. Both learn to take care of themselves, yet in some ways, superficially. Lucy uses her clandestine tradition as a safe haven, retreating the minute she is hurt into her own bosom, concentrating on what the reader assumes rather than on her own feelings, and Heathcliff eventual allows himself to be guided to the ultimate void, or in his case salvation- united with his Other - Cathy (both part of his individuality and his guide) in death.
Word Count: 2, 175
(without referencing)
Bibliography
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Men also seem to take the role upon themselves as guides. Graham Bretton, as the doctor, who the sycophantic Madame Beck wants to impress. Why? because she is equally fallible to male views. Monsieur Paul wants to take it upon himself to be the mentor of Lucy – ‘we are alike - there is an affinity. Do you see it Lucy when you look in the glass?’