Heathcliff - Monster or Misunderstood?

In my British Literature class this semester, we read Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. For those of you who know the story, you might see where I’m going with this, but for those of you who don’t, it’s a story of dark romance, betrayal, vendettas and haunting images and memories. The main “villain” in the storyline is Heathcliff, the adopted, outcast Gypsy who is adopted by a well-meaning father but despised and detested by an older “brother” who makes his life a living hell.

Heathcliff is inarguably cruel. He is conniving and vengeful, spiteful and mean, but I would say that there is means to the madness.

It all started with Hindley (his older “brother) and the way he treated him. He treated him as a servant, no better or worse than the horses that drew their buggies. That kind of treatment will turn anyone sour. But the real catalyst in the situation is Cathy. He loves her. She is his saving grace in a life that is miserable and hard, and without her, he would be completely alone. He trusts her and her alone, having grown up with her and gotten to know her spirit – the real things that matter in loving someone.

And then, seemingly out of no where, his life turns upside down. With Cathy begins to spend time with the Lintons, she edges Heathcliff out completely, almost without warning, and seemingly without a care. She goes about her business as if nothing really happened and as if it doesn’t affect her one bit. We know, as the reader that she does indeed still love Heathcliff, but he doesn’t know that. He is betrayed by the only good thing he had in life, torn from the fairytale that he thought he was living and loving.

These events are enough to make anyone mad with rage, to the point of obsessive vengeance. He decided that instead of rolling in a ball and letting the misery of lost love and affection, he would strike his revenge back on those who hurt him (much like Frankenstein’s monster, not t mention).

Personally, I feel bad for Heathcliff. I think that pain like that is real. It’s such a pain that you can’t think or breathe because everything, everyone, and every moment reminds you what you’ve lost, and there isn’t a god damned thing you can do about it. Heathcliff was severely wronged by the family that took him in to give him a better life, and by the woman whom he loved with every fiber of his being.

In all respects, though, as sorry as I feel for him, I think that he could have not partaken in the actions he did that drove others to the madness he felt as well. There’s a lesson to be learned here, that if you’ve been wronged, you should make certain not to pass on the pain and misery to others, even if they did help to ruin you, and especially if they were completely innocent or a mere product.

If I were in a situation, where the one I loved left for another without a warning, with words still wringing in my heart and head, with promises of trust and devotion still tied around my mind, I would let them see their own mistakes. It might take them a while, but vengeance never does justice, only lasts as bitter satisfaction for a short time. Rather, recover from the blows, continue life, even run away if necessary. But I would never hurt others purposefully just to spite them in the pain they inflicted on me.

But then again, I’m not Heathcliff, I’m Jessie Jean, and I wouldn't act just for spite.