Book 16: Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
A beautiful masterpiece written by Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights, has been a classic since it was first published in 1847. Surrounded by the wild moors, falling in love, choices of marriage, and dark vengeful jealously, it is a book that everyone should read and meet the much beloved characters, Cathy and Heathcliff.
“My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath…I am Heathcliff – he’s always, always in my mind – not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself – but as my own being”
In the relationship of Cathy and Heathcliff, and in the wild, bleak Yorkshire Moors of its setting, Wuthering Heights creates a world of its own, conceived with a disregard for convention, an instinct for poetry and for the dark depths of human psychology that make it one of the greatest novels of passion ever written.
Although Wuthering Heights shocked many of its readers in 1847, it none the less enjoyed modest success in its time. After the death of Emily in 1848, an interest in the work was boosted by association with the success of Charlotte’s novels.
Charlotte Bronte comments on her sister’s novel, “Wuthering Heights was hewn in a wild workshop, with simple tools, out of homely materials. The statuary found a granite block on a solitary moor…with time and labour the crag took human shape and there it stands colossal.”
All day I’ve toiled, but no with pain. By Emily Bronte
All day I’ve toiled, but not with pain,
In learning’s godlen mine-
And now at eventide again
The moonbeams softly shine.
There is no snow upon the ground,
No frsot on wind or wave-
The south wind blew with gentlest sound
And broke their icy grave.
‘Tis sweet to wander here at night
To watch the winter die,
With heart as summer sunshine light
And warm as summer’s sky.
Oh, may I never lose the peace
That lulls me gently now,
Though time should change my youthful face
And years hsould shade my brow.
True to myself and true to all
May i be healthful still,
And turn away from passion’s call
And Curb my own wild will.
I known it has been awhile since I’ve last blogged, and it seems fitting that I have a chance to come back to the world of blogging on the 198th birthday of one of my beloved authors Charlotte Bronte (1816-1855).
Charlotte Bronte, is the eldest sister of Anne and Emily Bronte (authors aswell) and wrote four novels during her life, leaving one unfinished and one published posthumously. Though her first novel was rejected by publishers Charlotte was not disturbed, as she wrote Jane Eyre (1847), a story about a plain young woman life as a governess who falls in love, discovers a hidden wife in an attic, and becomes rich and then finally reunites with her one true love. Jane Eyre, unbeknown to Charlotte when writing would become her most successful world knowing novel. Later she wrote Shirley (1849) and Villette (1853).
Charlotte Bronte was the only one of her siblings to marry (as Anne and Emily both die, aswell as did their other siblings). Charlotte married Arthur Bell Nicholls whom she knew through him being her fathers curate. However, their marriage was not long as she became increasingly ill, and died with her unborn child in 1855. But her legacy within her books, her dreams, her thoughts, her feelings, and her short life are captured by her written words, forever to be found in her beloved novels.