Chapter I

1801. I have just returned from a visit to my landlord the
solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe
that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed
from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist’s heaven:
and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide
the desolation between us. A capital fellow! He little imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his
black eyes withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as
I rode up, and when his fingers sheltered themselves, with
a jealous resolution, still further in his waistcoat, as I announced my name.
‘Mr. Heathcliff?’ I said.
A nod was the answer.
‘Mr. Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I do myself the honour of calling as soon as possible after my arrival, to express
the hope that I have not inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation of Thrushcross Grange:
I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts ‘
‘Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,’ he interrupted,
wincing. ‘I should not allow any one to inconvenience me, if
I could hinder it walk in!’
The ‘walk in’ was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment, ‘Go to the Deuce:’ even the gate over
4 Wuthering Heights
which he leant manifested no sympathising movement to
the words; and I think that circumstance determined me to
accept the invitation: I felt interested in a man who seemed
more exaggeratedly reserved than myself.
When he saw my horse’s breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did put out his hand to unchain it, and then sullenly
preceded me up the causeway, calling, as we entered the
court, ‘Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood’s horse; and bring up
some wine.’
‘Here we have the whole establishment of domestics, I
suppose,’ was the reflection suggested by this compound order. ‘No wonder the grass grows up between the flags, and
cattle are the only hedgecutters.’
Joseph was an elderly, nay, an old man: very old, perhaps,
though hale and sinewy. ‘The Lord help us!’ he soliloquised
in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while relieving me
of my horse: looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that
I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to
digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no reference
to my unexpected advent.
Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff’s dwelling. ‘Wuthering’ being a significant provincial adjective,
descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is
exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they
must have up there at all times, indeed: one may guess the
power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house;
and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one
way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had
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foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are deeply
set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting
stones.
Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a
quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the front, and
especially about the principal door; above which, among a
wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, I
detected the date ‘1500,’ and the name ‘Hareton Earnshaw.’
I would have made a few comments, and requested a short
history of the place from the surly owner; but his attitude
at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance, or
complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his
impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium.
One stop brought us into the family sitting-room, without any introductory lobby or passage: they call it here ‘the
house’ preeminently. It includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is
forced to retreat altogether into another quarter: at least I
distinguished a chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary
utensils, deep within; and I observed no signs of roasting,
boiling, or baking, about the huge fireplace; nor any glitter of
copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls. One end,
indeed, reflected splendidly both light and heat from ranks
of immense pewter dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and
tankards, towering row after row, on a vast oak dresser, to
the very roof. The latter had never been under-drawn: its
entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except where
a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs
of beef, mutton, and ham, concealed it. Above the chimney
6 Wuthering Heights
were sundry villainous old guns, and a couple of horsepistols: and, by way of ornament, three gaudily-painted
canisters disposed along its ledge. The floor was of smooth,
white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures,
painted green: one or two heavy black ones lurking in the
shade. In an arch under the dresser reposed a huge, livercoloured bitch pointer, surrounded by a swarm of squealing
puppies; and other dogs haunted other recesses.
The apartment and furniture would have been nothing
extraordinary as belonging to a homely, northern farmer,
with a stubborn countenance, and stalwart limbs set out to
advantage in kneebreeches and gaiters. Such an individual seated in his arm-chair, his mug of ale frothing on the
round table before him, is to be seen in any circuit of five
or six miles among these hills, if you go at the right time
after dinner. But Mr. Heathcliff forms a singular contrast
to his abode and style of living. He is a darkskinned gipsy in aspect, in dress and manners a gentleman: that is, as
much a gentleman as many a country squire: rather slovenly, perhaps, yet not looking amiss with his negligence,
because he has an erect and handsome figure; and rather
morose. Possibly, some people might suspect him of a degree of under-bred pride; I have a sympathetic chord within
that tells me it is nothing of the sort: I know, by instinct,
his reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of
feeling to manifestations of mutual kindliness. He’ll love
and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to be loved or hated again. No, I’m running on
too fast: I bestow my own attributes over-liberally on him.
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Mr. Heathcliff may have entirely dissimilar reasons for
keeping his hand out of the way when he meets a would-be
acquaintance, to those which actuate me. Let me hope my
constitution is almost peculiar: my dear mother used to say
I should never have a comfortable home; and only last summer I proved myself perfectly unworthy of one.
While enjoying a month of fine weather at the sea-coast,
I was thrown into the company of a most fascinating creature: a real goddess in my eyes, as long as she took no notice
of me. I ‘never told my love’ vocally; still, if looks have language, the merest idiot might have guessed I was over head
and ears: she understood me at last, and looked a return the
sweetest of all imaginable looks. And what did I do? I confess
it with shame shrunk icily into myself, like a snail; at every
glance retired colder and farther; till finally the poor innocent was led to doubt her own senses, and, overwhelmed
with confusion at her supposed mistake, persuaded her
mamma to decamp. By this curious turn of disposition I
have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how
undeserved, I alone can appreciate.
I took a seat at the end of the hearthstone opposite that
towards which my landlord advanced, and filled up an interval of silence by attempting to caress the canine mother,
who had left her nursery, and was sneaking wolfishly to the
back of my legs, her lip curled up, and her white teeth watering for a snatch. My caress provoked a long, guttural gnarl.
‘You’d better let the dog alone,’ growled Mr. Heathcliff in
unison, checking fiercer demonstrations with a punch of his
foot. ‘She’s not accustomed to be spoiled not kept for a pet.’
8 Wuthering Heights
Then, striding to a side door, he shouted again, ‘Joseph!’
Joseph mumbled indistinctly in the depths of the cellar,
but gave no intimation of ascending; so his master dived
down to him, leaving me VIS-A-VIS the ruffianly bitch and
a pair of grim shaggy sheep-dogs, who shared with her a
jealous guardianship over all my movements. Not anxious
to come in contact with their fangs, I sat still; but, imagining
they would scarcely understand tacit insults, I unfortunately
indulged in winking and making faces at the trio, and some
turn of my physiognomy so irritated madam, that she suddenly broke into a fury and leapt on my knees. I flung her
back, and hastened to interpose the table between us. This
proceeding aroused the whole hive: half-a-dozen four-footed fiends, of various sizes and ages, issued from hidden dens
to the common centre. I felt my heels and coat-laps peculiar
subjects of assault; and parrying off the larger combatants
as effectually as I could with the poker, I was constrained to
demand, aloud, assistance from some of the household in
re-establishing peace.
Mr. Heathcliff and his man climbed the cellar steps with
vexatious phlegm: I don’t think they moved one second faster than usual, though the hearth was an absolute tempest of
worrying and yelping. Happily, an inhabitant of the kitchen
made more despatch: a lusty dame, with tucked-up gown,
bare arms, and fire-flushed cheeks, rushed into the midst of
us flourishing a frying-pan: and used that weapon, and her
tongue, to such purpose, that the storm subsided magically,
and she only remained, heaving like a sea after a high wind,
when her master entered on the scene.
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‘What the devil is the matter?’ he asked, eyeing me in a
manner that I could ill endure, after this inhospitable treatment.
‘What the devil, indeed!’ I muttered. ‘The herd of possessed swine could have had no worse spirits in them than
those animals of yours, sir. You might as well leave a stranger with a brood of tigers!’
‘They won’t meddle with persons who touch nothing,’
he remarked, putting the bottle before me, and restoring
the displaced table. ‘The dogs do right to be vigilant. Take a
glass of wine?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Not bitten, are you?’
‘If I had been, I would have set my signet on the biter.’
Heathcliff’s countenance relaxed into a grin.
‘Come, come,’ he said, ‘you are flurried, Mr. Lockwood.
Here, take a little wine. Guests are so exceedingly rare in
this house that I and my dogs, I am willing to own, hardly
know how to receive them. Your health, sir?’
I bowed and returned the pledge; beginning to perceive
that it would be foolish to sit sulking for the misbehaviour
of a pack of curs; besides, I felt loth to yield the fellow further amusement at my expense; since his humour took that
turn. He probably swayed by prudential consideration of the
folly of offending a good tenant relaxed a little in the laconic
style of chipping off his pronouns and auxiliary verbs, and
introduced what he supposed would be a subject of interest
to me, a discourse on the advantages and disadvantages of
my present place of retirement. I found him very intelligent
10 Wuthering Heights
on the topics we touched; and before I went home, I was encouraged so far as to volunteer another visit to-morrow. He
evidently wished no repetition of my intrusion. I shall go,
notwithstanding. It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself
compared with him.