Who? No, she didn't write "Jane Eyre." No, she didn't write "Wuthering Heights." Those were written by her sisters Charlotte, and Emily respectively.
Now, I like--no LOVE "Jane..." (ok, ok, to be honest, I would love to seduce Mr. Rochester in some out-of-the way Mediterranean villa). But ,I have to ask the question, because I am by nature a contrary creature, is Jane Eyre a masterpiece? For that matter, is Wuthering Heights a masterpiece?
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NOTE: I must confess to you that as a girl, I watched "Wuthering Heights" (1939) with Merle Oberon and Lawrence Olivier, and while I really didn't like the characters, I loved as a rule any romantic tale. Hoping to find a deeper tale in the book, as was my previous experience, I dove headfirst into Emily Bronte's tome.
Here's an absolutely hysterical version starring Richard Burton and (wait for it) Patty Duke:
Now, it's unusual for me to scream at books. They are not alive, after all. Nor is it usual for me to throw books against the wall. It isn't their fault if their contents piss me off. But, the story of Heathcliff and Catherine---rarely have I met two characters who I thought needed to have common sense stomped into them by the family stallion.
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Moving on to Charlotte's work, there were dozens of different filmic interpretations of Jane Eyre, some of them quite good. But, few remember the youngest Bronte sister's (Anne) work The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Why? Well, one reason might be that her sister Charlotte refused to authorize a second edition of the work in the aftermath of its' author's death. No one really knows why she did that--perhaps she objected to the subject matter?
What subject matter? Well, if you like, let's take a look.
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall was actually Anne Bronte's second work, published under the pseudonym Acton Bell in 1848. Her first novel Agnes Grey, was published circa 1846-7. The reception of each book was, generally, welcoming. But, the popular acclaim of her sisters' works unfortunately eluded hers. Why? Well, Dear Reader, if you're interested, let me tell you what I think: volatile subject matter.
One neat thing about this book, is that it's told through the intimate stories of the lovers, Gilbert Markham, and Helen Huntingdon, which are relayed to the reader in a series of letters. I found this storytelling method, both endearing and engaging, but then I like first person narratives.
In The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, a mysterious widow has come to the village of Gilbert Markham--a successful yeoman farmer, to live at the isolated Wildfell Hall. Eventually, the widow is known by the name Mrs. Helen Graham. She also has a little boy, apparently aged 6 or 7.
Gradually, as Mrs. Graham begins to attend the local church, she is invited to social events in the community, where residents are at first welcoming, then suspicious. Mrs. Graham says nothing about herself or her past--a death knell in the small English country village. Malicious gossip about Mrs. Graham ensues.
At first, Gilbert is more interested in Eliza Millward (harpy), daughter of the local Reverend, but is quickly drawn to the mysterious widow, whom he finds desirable and sad--a lethal combination, eh?
In jealous retribution, Eliza spreads malicious rumors about Helen--she is seeing some men alone at night; she is responsible for the fall of these men, etc., etc., etc. Of course the reader knows, along with Gilbert, that these rumors are entirely false, and he continues his pursuit of both Helen and her boy Arthur.
Anne Bronte's storytelling is marvelous: in the first part we're introduced to Gilbert, and follow his complicated emotional pathway as he gradually falls passionately in love with Mrs. Graham, in spite of her mysterious persona. All thoughts of Eliza fall away like 'scales from his eyes.' As he learns more about her tastes and sensibilities, it is obvious to him that she is a kindred spirit.
What Gilbert doesn't know yet, is that Helen has deserted her dissolute and abusive husband, taking her young son with her. This kind of thing just wasn't done in the nineteenth century! Shock! Gasp! For Helen, there is no hope of getting the marriage dissolved, because of a hostile legal atmosphere that preferred men. She therefore escapes in whatever fashion she has, but even her flight is not enough in the end.
Much of the novel's second half is told though Helen's POV, first in a little diary she gives Gilbert to read (after a confrontation). In it she details her life with Arthur Huntington--a youngish man in his mid twenties, who meets her when she's only eighteen. In a fitful courtship, during which he often displays his capricious sensibilities, she falls for him, as only a blind 18 year old girl can do.
Helen's life with Arthur is difficult from the start: he is dissolute; he likes to drink too much; he stays away from their home for months at a time. As the years pass, Arthur and Helen drift more and more apart, a process that is accelerated by the arrival of a son. Arthur sinks deeper, and in reaction, Helen seeks solace in the English church. Hey, it was the 19th century!
A group of Arthur's friends, each suffering from some addictive defect or other, are often at Grassdale (the Huntingdon's home). On one occasion, she discovers Arthur's infidelity with one of his cronies: Annabelle--who is as debauched as Helen is pious. He then prevents Helen from spending quality time with their son, saying that she was not 'making a man' of him. He encourages all of little Arthur's worst traits, and indulges him. He gives the child wine to drink. In other words, Anne Bronte describes a household filled with abuse for both mother and child. Physical and mental abuse. Interesting subject matters for a single English daughter of a clergyman, right?
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall has been lauded in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries as a forgotten classic--one outshone by Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights. Anne's work has recently been praised by feminist historians, as a tale of triumph for one woman. I think that in this case, I emphatically agree.
The work bravely exhibits characters who flout polite mores (in a good and bad sense). Helen does what probably 0.0% of Victorian women had the balls to do; leave an abusive husband with no money, and no one to aid her save her brother, Frederick.
Of course it all ends well: Arthur dies of alcoholism, freeing Helen to marry Gilbert. But, all is not rainbows rocketing out the ass of unicorns: everyone has to pay a price for their actions--not because they were sinful, but because they were difficult. I suppose you could say that these are well known christian themes, and yet Anne treats these developments with such a deft hand, that I was not overtly struck by a theological tone. I think that this is something rare.
And so f*&k Wuthering Heights! If you'd like to try something cool and quite refreshing, then read The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.
Until next week (yeah, I promise…!)….
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