How Emily Brontë Kills Characters: Me Geeking Out Over My Literary Soulmate
Life-Defining Death: A Look at How Emily Brontë Kills Her Characters
Wuthering Heights is a beautiful collection of words depicting the cycle of 19th century life and death on the English moors. Much of the novel, however, leads the reader to spend a lot of time pondering death. Did Emily Brontë have an unhealthy obsession with death, or did these events have distinct literary purposes? Does a pattern exist between the depictions of characters’ fatal sicknesses? Were they written as explorations of the character’s souls, or as a cold reality that results from random outside forces unrelated to the life, personality, and moral aptitude of the perishing? Upon examination of the declines and deaths of the elder Catherine, Linton, and Heathcliff, one may conclude that their deaths are not the end of their stories, but an embarkation into deeper knowledge of who they are. Death acts not as an abrupt cutting of a cord, but as a continuation of the characters’ beings, and as, perhaps, the ultimate definition of who they are.
Catherine Earnshaw Linton is assigned numerous causes of death by different characters. Nelly, the narrator, bluntly states that Catherine gave birth to a child prematurely and died two hours later (172). Though Catherine did die immediately following childbirth, she suffered from another malady too. During the birthing process, Catherine was delirious (172). For several chapters at that point, Catherine struggled with an illness known as “brain fever” (147). The early symptoms of her illness included “irritable nerves,” “shaken reason,” and “a mind [not settled into] its right balance” (147). As Catherine neared death, she “[struggled] to arrange her ideas” (167), then eventually “was all bewildered; she sighed and moaned, and knew nobody” (172). Not only was Catherine’s body deteriorating, but she herself, her ability to function as a human, was being irretrievably lost. Before she reached a state of total mental abandon, however, Catherine had her own ideas about what caused her fatal sickness. She, in a heated discussion with Heathcliff, claimed he was her murderer. His feud with Catherine’s husband, Edgar Linton, distressed Catherine so deeply that she felt it valid to claim that the men’s rift drove her to her deathbed. Her emotions are inseverably connected with her physical health, and, henceforth, her death.
Linton Heathcliff is first introduced as “the pale, delicate, effeminate boy” with a “sickly peevishness” who sobbed ridiculously (201). Though he proved to be an enjoyable friend and love interest to young Catherine, his reputation never exceeds that of the weak, whining child. At one point Linton begins violently coughing up blood after Catherine merely pushes him during an argument. Closer to Linton’s death, Catherine’s excitement at meeting with her cousin instantly transforms into worry when she sees his physical state and the “haggard wildness” of his expression (249). He wasn’t interested in her usual charms and provided no stimulating conversation like he used to. Yet even nearer to his life’s end, Linton “convulsed with exquisite terror” at Catherine’s criticism, and was too weak to sit up at Heathcliff’s command, once again finding himself too emotionally and physically distraught to function (254). After Linton dies, Heathcliff asks Catherine how she feels, and she responds, “He’s safe, and I’m free” (275).
Heathcliff’s decline into joyous insanity is disturbing. After instances of unexplained absence, refusal of food, erratic behavior, and claimed contact with Catherine’s ghost, Heathcliff locks himself in his room and dies. Nelly finds him on his bed, soaked in rain from his open window. At first she thinks he is alive, then upon realizing he is dead, is bewildered. She tries to close his lids but cannot, and his “sharp, white teeth sneered” at her and she ran, terrified (310). Heathcliff’s triumphant death is not attributed to a particular illness, but almost as a culmination of his mortally wounded soul. Death, for Heathcliff, is happier than his life, for he can be reunited with Catherine, his idol. One of the two Heathcliff smiles recorded in the book rests on his corpse, which speaks volumes about his character.
Wuthering Heights moves from generation to generation cyclically: one character dies and another gains life. Death is inevitable and death is progressive. But beyond the practicality of having a steadily moving plot line, the deaths of Catherine, Linton, and Heathcliff serve greater purposes in the development of their characters. Upon close reading, one can see that their deaths not only reflect but are inseparably bound to their stories. The elder Catherine died in childbirth, of heartbreak, and insanity. Her life story, in summary, includes heartbreak over Heathcliff that drives her insane and having a baby. Linton died because he was emotionally, physically, and mentally weak. His entire storyline emphasizes that he is a puny, whining child of a man who can’t handle anything. In the end, he cannot keep living so, as the culmination of his weakness, he ceases to live. Heathcliff dies ecstatically for no known medical reason; his heart was done aching for Catherine, so it stilled, allowing him to meet her in death. The majority of Heathcliff’s story involves pining for Catherine and going wild, and these things lead him to his deathbed.
The deaths of these characters are so intimately intertwined with their stories that death becomes a primary mode of character development in Wuthering Heights. Their lives kill them. So did Emily Brontë love death so much that she felt the need to weave it into the thick of her characters’ stories? Did she believe that the way one’s life ends defines who they are? If so, how does this affect the modern day reader, or the modern day person, for that matter? We often encounter fictional deaths—from Romeo to Heathcliff to Tris Prior—and actual deaths—from Robin Williams to the 9/11 suicide bombers to an aborted fetus. Do we believe that death defines a person, bringing their story to an end that’s exploding with meaning? Or is death the destroyer of stories? Emily Brontë did not likely expect a 21st century college student to be writing an essay about how she kills off her characters. But through her story line, Emily left us strange, unexpected questions to answer, ultimately leading us to examine ourselves and the world from her favorite angle: a gloriously morbid one.
