ledge, where I placed my candle, had a few mildewed books piled
up in one corner; and it was covered with writing scratched on the
paint. This writing, however, was nothing but a name repeated in
all kinds of characters, large and small—Catherine Earnshaw, here
and there varied to Catherine Heathcliff, and then again to Catherine
Linton. In vapid listlessness I leant my head against the window,
and continued spelling over Catherine Earnshaw—Heathcliff—Linton,
till my eyes closed; but they had not rested five minutes when a
glare of white letters started from the dark, as vivid as spectres—the
air swarmed with Catherines; and rousing myself to dispel the obtrusive
name, I discovered my candle wick reclining on one of the antique
volumes, and perfuming the place with an odour of roasted calf-skin.
In this passage from Chapter III, Lockwood
relates the first of the troubling dreams he has in Catherine’s
old bed. The quotation testifies to Lockwood’s role as a reader
within the novel, representing the external reader—the perplexed
outsider determined to discover the secrets of Wuthering Heights.
Upon Lockwood’s first arrival at the house, no one answers his knocks
on the door, and he cries, “I don’t care—I will get in!” The same
blend of frustration and determination has marked the responses
of many readers and critics when facing the enigmas of Wuthering
The connection between Lockwood and readers is particularly clear
in this passage. Catherine first appears to Lockwood, as she does
to readers, as a written word—her name, scratched into the paint.
When Lockwood reads over the scraped letters, they seem to take
on a ghostly power—the simile Brontë uses is that they are “as vivid
as spectres.” Ghosts, of course, constitute a key image throughout
the novel. In this instance, it is crucial to note that what comes
back, in this first dream, is not a dead person but a name, and that
what brings the name back is the act of reading it. We see that Brontë,
by using Lockwood as a stand-in for her readers, indicates how she
wants her readers to react to her book; she wants her words to come
vividly before them, to haunt them.
In this passage, one also can see an active example of Wuthering Heights’s
ambiguous genre. The work is often compared to the Gothic novels
popular in the late eighteenth century, which dealt in ghosts and
gloom, demonic heroes with dark glints in their eyes, and so on.
But Brontë wrote her book in the 1840s,
when the fashion for the Gothic novel was past and that genre was
quickly being replaced as the dominant form by the socially conscious
realistic novel, as represented by the work of Dickens and Thackeray. Wuthering Heights often
seems to straddle the two genres, containing many Gothic elements
but also obeying most of the conventions of Victorian realism. The
question of genre comes to a head in the appearances of ghosts in
the novel. Readers cannot be sure whether they are meant to understand
the ghosts as nightmares, to explain them in terms of the psychology
of the characters who claim to see them, or to take them, as in
a Gothic novel, as no less substantial than the other characters.
Brontë establishes this ambiguity carefully. The “spectres” here
are introduced within a simile, and in a context that would support
their interpretation as a nightmare. Similarly subtle ambiguities
lace Lockwood’s account, a few pages later, of his encounter with
the ghost of Catherine.