66 been read by thousands of young ladies in the country, we should esteem it our first duty to caution them against it simply on account of the coarseness of the style. We are so far pedantic as to agree with John Kemble in thinking that "oblige" is more becoming to royal mouths than obleege." With ladies who should be habituated to the use of forms of speech like those which occur in every page of this book, we can see how a gentleman should altogether fail in any attempt at love-making, though he might be able to hold discourse with a western boatman in his own dialect, and be so well accustomed to the language of bar-rooms and steamboat saloons, that he could hear the eyes and souls of those around him “condemned," to use the words of Mrs. Isabella Heathcliff, "to a perpetual dwelling in the infernal regions," without experiencing the slightest inconvenience. express the deepest thoughts, the most ardent passions, the strongest emotions, without in the least offending propriety. We are not called upon to affect surliness or bluntness of speech; and where a whole book is in this style, whatever may be its merits, this is a simple obvious defect, the first to impress itself upon the reader, and by no means the least serious. But Suppose this book were not written with so much power and subtlety, and with so large an infusion of genuine truth and beauty, the judgment of the public would at once condemn it on account of its coarseness of style. It would then be seen how much of the coarseness was affected and how much natural. ought the other qualities of the book, which render us almost insensible, while we are reading it, to a language which, to say the least, was never that of well-bred ladies and gentlemen, to excuse this language-even considering the coarseness wholly unaffected and unavoidable—a part of the substance of the writer's very self? We need not inform young ladies that in the process of love-making, one of the surest tests by which they can distinguish a gentleman and man of sincerity, is in his style of speaking. He will not be very fluent We think not. The book is original; -at least not without some encouragement it is powerful; full of suggestiveness. But --some betrayal to him of a consciousness still it is coarse. The narrative talks on that he is attentive, and that his attentions in a way that if an attempt to imitate it are not wholly displeasing; but the little be ever made in a parlor, the experihe does say will be in the selectest words. menter should be speedily ejected. It If he is allowed to entertain a reasonable ought to be banished from refined society, expectation, he will grow eloquent in pri- because it does not converse in a proper vate, and perhaps his idol will hear the manner. Setting aside the profanity, which most poetic expressions leaping from his if a writer introduces into a book, he oflips unconsciously. The secret opinion fends against both politeness and good which such a man entertains of his mis- morals, there is such a general roughness tress is, that she is all that is pure and and savageness in the soliloquies and dialovely; and his great wish is to be wor-logues here given as never should be found thy of her goodness, and to protect her in a work of art. from all the roughness and badness of the common world. Now, we may suppose a case where a young lady appreciates this feeling on the part of her admirer, looks up to him with a correspondent lofty opinion of his worth, and desires to secure his heart. If she has read Wuthering Heights, let her be extremely careful not to let its style affect her conversation. A little bad grammar even, is not so sure a quencher of the rising flame, as slang expressions or brutal unrefinement. There is a certain decorum in language as well as in manners or modes. We may The whole tone of the style of the book smacks of lowness. It would indicate that the writer was not accustomed to the society of gentlemen, and was not afraid, indeed, rather gloried, in showing it. Suppose a rough sailor of a powerful imagination-an eloquent narrator, in his way, of forecastle "yarns," (there are many such to be met with ;) we may enjoy his intellectual power at times, but we do not wish to make too free with him. Not because he is worse than we are in the sight of Heaven, but because we have been educated differently, we should prefer our landlady not to ask him to tea. Society naturally crystallizes into classes. "A man is known by the company he keeps ;" and "birds of a feather flock together." There is a necessity for manners; and evil communications corrupt good ones. The difference between the polite and impolite is, that the polite manifest themselves to each other in words, looks and motions of grace and considerateness, whereas the impolite let the natural creature uncared for. In fine, the generally received opinion of the world with respect to manners is a true one, go and founded on elements of our nature which we have not the power to lay aside; we must have some manners, and all people distinguish between good and bad. tween the little dog and Skulker, whose nose she pinched as he ate, and kindling a spark of spirit in the vacant blue eyes of the Lintons-a dim reflection from her own enchanting face-I saw they were full of stupid admiration; she is so immeasurably superior to them-to everybody on earth; is she not, Nelly ?" He has previously thus described the parlor : "The light came from thence; they had not put up the shutters, and the curtains were only half closed. Both of us were able to look in, by standing on the basement and clinging to the ledge, and we saw-ah! it was beautifula splendid place carpeted with crimson, and crimson-covered chairs and tables, and a pure white ceiling bordered by gold, a shower of glass-drops hanging in silver chains from the center, and shimmering with little soft tapers." A person may be unmannered from want of delicacy of perception, or cultivation, or ill-mannered intentionally. The author of Wuthering Heights is both. His rudeness is chiefly real but partly assumed. We will give a few examples. The following is put into the mouth of a young boy telling how his playmate was bitten by a bull-ly dog: "The devil had seized her ankle, Nelly; I heard his abominable snorting. She did not yell out-no! She would have scorned to do it, if she had been spitted on the horus of a mad cow. I did, though; I vociferated curses enough to annihilate any fiend in Christendom; and I got a stone and thrust it between his jaws, and tried with all my might to cram it down his throat." Afterwards he tells how she was taken care of in the parlor of the Lintons : "The curtains were still looped up at one corner, and I resumed my station as spy, because, if Catherine had wished to return, I intended shattering their great glass panes to a million fragments, unless they let her out. "She sat on the sofa quietly, Mrs. Linton took off the gray cloak of the dairy maid which we had borrowed for our excursion--shaking her head, and expostulating with her, I suppose; she was a young lady, and they made a distinction between her treatment and mine. Then the woman servant brought a basin of warm water, and washed her feet, and Mr. Linton mixed a tumbler of negus, and Isabella emptied a plateful of cakes into her lap, and Edgar stood gaping at a distance. Afterward, they dried and combed her beautiful hair, and gave her a pair of enormous slippers, and wheeled her to the fire; and I left her, as merry as she could be, dividing her food be These are examples of simple vulgarity, or want of a refined perception. Their occurring in a work written with so much strength, that in reading hastily, one hardnotices them (and thousands such) as blemishes, does not redeem them. In another place the author finds an. old diary, which, according to his dates, must have been written by a little imperfectly educated girl in the very year of the Declaration of American Independence: "An immediate interest kindled within me for the unknown Catherine, and I began forthwith to decipher her faded hieroglyphics. "An awful Sunday!' commenced the paragraph beneath. I wish my father were back again. Hindley is a detestable substitute-his conduct to Heathcliff is atrocious--H. and I are going to rebel-we took our initiatory step this evening."" All these instances may be observed to be not only vulgar, but vulgar in a peculiar way. They savor, to use a word which is the only one in the language that will the thing, of snobbishness. express Snobbishness is a development of human nature that manifests itself in various shapes; but it everywhere is one in es sence, and bears the same relation to gentlemanliness, that Brummagem does to real plate. Thus we have, without a tar iff, as genuine native snobs in this country as any of foreign growth; probably there are snobs also in China. To one variety of the English snob may be traced a certain, peculiar, easy fluenc of expression, which has its counterpart also in the American. This peculiarity seems to be founded in a desire to assimilate the language of strong emotion to that of mercantile correspondence, and manifests itself in an eloquence which resembles that of business circulars. But as business correspondence is intended to conceal emotion, it forms a poor model for style, and hence it is particularly the duty of critics to be on the alert to detect its presence and expose it. The words and parts of sentences italicized in the above extracts, have a tang of Mantalini and Chawls Yellowplush. In reading the paragraph describing how Catherine was taken care of by the Lintons, one recognizes somewhat of the tone of another eloquent personage: "Undoubtedly,' says Cousin Feenix. In point of fact, it's quite a self-evident sort of thing. I am extremely anxious, Major, that friend Dombey should hear me express my very great astonishment and regret, that my lovely and accomplished relative, who was possessed of every qualification to make a man happy, should have so far forgotten what was due to-in point of fact, to the world-as to commit herI self in such a very extraordinary manner. have been in a devilish state of depression ever since; and said indeed to Long Saxby last night-man of six foot ten, with whom my friend Dombey is probably acquainted-that it had upset me in a confounded way, and made me bilious. It induces a man to reflect, this kind of fatal catastrophe,' says Cousin Feenix, that events do occur in quite a Providential manner; for if my Aunt had been living at the time, I think the effect upon a devilish lively woman like herself, would have been prostration, and that she would have fallen, in point of fact, a victiin." " But the taint of vulgarity with our author extends deeper than mere snobbishness; he is rude, because he prefers to be so. In the outset he represents himself as a misanthropist, and confesses to a degree of reserve which it would puzzle a psychologist to explain: "The walk in' was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment, Go to the Deuce!' Even the gate over which he leaned manifested no sympathizing 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." "Exaggeratedly reserved"- another Jeamesism. "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, it 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." This is a phase of human nature which we had rather not understand. If it ever was real with any living man, he was a very bad-hearted one, and a conceited. More likely the real truth with one who would write himself so affected a personage, was just the reverse-that some gay girl, seeing in him a person on agreeable terms with himself, experimented on him for her diversion, till she made him deucedly miserable." It is evident that the author has suffered, not disappointment in love, but some great mortification of pride. Possibly his position in society has given him manners that have prevented him from associating with those among whom he feels he has intellect enough to be classed, and he is thus in reality the misanthropist he claims to be. Very likely he may be a young person who has spent his life, until within a few years, in some isolated town in the North of England. It is only by some such supposition that his peculiarities of style and thought can be accounted for. He is one who is evidently unfamiliar with, and careless of acquiring, the habits of refined society. We regret the necessity of proving his intentional and affected coarseness by examples. In the first place, several of the characters swear worse than ever the troops did in Flanders. Now, setting out of the question the morality or immorality of this practice, it is, as we have already observed, an offence against politeness; not such a great one, however, but it is esteemed venial when used effectively by military or naval gentlemen, who have seen some service. It is not permitted to civilians in general society, though a little isolated paragraphs from any chapter, they Mantalini "demmit," escaping between the will perceive them at once. Fancy two teeth in the heat of an argument, is readily ladies sitting in a splendid parlor and interoverlooked. But common, rough swear-changing their sentiments in the following brilliant dialogue:— ing is a worse breach of decorum than disregarding the conveniences for tobacco saliva. And how much more in writing than in conversation! For a writer is presumed to be deliberate; he corrects his proofs at leisure. If a writer, therefore, permits his characters to swear, and that grossly, (not like gentlemen,) he does it knowingly; he is aware that it is not customary or mannerly, and every time he does it, he is, therefore, intentionally rude. But the writer's disposition to be coarse is, perhaps, still more clearly shown by examples like the following: "I was surprised to see Heathcliff there also. He stood by the fire, his back toward me, just finishing a stormy scene to poor Zillah, who ever and anon interrupted her labor to pluck up the corner of her apron, and heave an indignant groan. "And you, you worthless - -'he broke out as I entered, turning to his daughter-in-law, and employing an epithet as harmless as duck, or sheep, but generally represented by a dash." Had the writer been simply, unconsciously coarse, he would, in this instance, have said "slut" or "bitch," without adverting to the harmlessness of the word. But by alluding to its harmlessness, he at once uses it, and offers a defence of it. This as plainly evinces a conscious determination to write coarsely, as if he had quoted and defended a passage from Rabelais. He knew the word to be a low word, though not an immodest one, and he determined to show his bold independence by using and defending it. He was anxious to extend the resources of the English language. This and hundreds of other sentences show that he has got the maggot in his brain, that low words are the strongest, and low manners the most natural. He desired to write a book with "no nonsense about it,' and he has, therefore, been led into the affecting boorishness... Many persons, we dare say, especially among the young who have read the book merely as a story, and because it excited them, have been so carried away by its power as hardly to notice these great faults in its style. But if they will take "How can you say I am harsh, you naughty fondling?' cried the mistress, amazed at the unreasonable assertion. You are surely losing your reason. When have I been harsh, tell me?' "Yesterday,' sobbed Isabella, and now!' "Yesterday!' said her sister-in-law. what occasion?' to On "In our walk along the moor; you told me ramble where I pleased, while you sauntered on with Mr. Heathcliff.' "And that's your notion of harshness?" said Catherine, laughing. It was no hint that your company was superfluous; we didn't care whether you kept with us or not; I merely thought Heathcliff's talk would have nothing entertaining for your ears.' "Oh, no,' wept the young lady, you wished me away because you knew I liked to be there.' "Is she sane?" asked Mrs. Linton, appealing to me. I'll repeat our conversation word for word, Isabella, and you point out any charm it could have had for you.' "I don't mind the conversation,' she answered: I wanted to be with' "Well!' said Catherine, perceiving her hesitate to complete the sentence. 666 With him; and I won't be always sent off!' she continued, kindling np. You are a dog in the manger, Cathy, and desire no one to be loved but yourself!' "You are an impertinent little monkey" exclaimed Mrs. Linton, in surprise," &c. This is the talk of two scolds. We surely need caution no lady reader of Wuthering Heights, against adopting such an use of language as is here put into the mouths of two of their sex. Doubtless there are quarrels, and poutings, and occasions among boarding-school misses, where they let out their opinions of each other as freely as Catherine and Isabella; but it is inconsistent with our notion of the delicacy and self-respect of a lady, to suppose she could listen to, much less utter such expressions. This we say because hundreds and hundreds of girls, whose papas take this Review, have read the last new novel, (cried over it perhaps,) and may possibly see these pages. They ought to be strongly cautioned against this wretched mode of speaking. They are the formers and judges of our manners, and if they allow such writings as this to influ ence their taste, our social assemblies will shortly exhibit such scenes as have gained for Tammany Hall its peculiar notoriety. | wretch, but did it never strike you that if Heathcliff and I married we should be beggars? whereas, if I married Linton, I can aid Heathcliff to rise, and place him out of my brother's power.' "With your husband's money, Miss Catherine?' I asked. You'll find him not so pliable as you calculate upon; and, though I'm hardly a judge, I think that's the worst motive_you've given yet for being the wife of young Linton.' Mr. Tin Hunter will soon venture not to call on Miss Argent of a morning, without examining the caps on his revolver; the fashionable dress for the opera will require the handle of a bowie knife to protrude from above the coat collar; Count Barbarini will promenade Broadway with a double barrelled rifle, and the Rev. Dr. will confer with the pious females of his parish in the armor of a French cuirassier. The influence which this book cannot but have upon manners, must be bad. For the coarseness extends farther than the mere style; it extends all through; and the crude style and rude expressions are too much in keeping with the necessary situations. It deals constantly in exaggerated extremes of passion. From the beginning to the end, there is hardly a scene which does not place the actors in the most agonizing or antagonizing predica-it. ment possible. Let the reader run over the principal events of the story in his mind, and consider what a series of scenes it would make, if dramatized and placed upon the stage. Mr. Lockwood visits Mr. Heathcliff, and is attacked by sheep dogs in his parlor. He visits him again and is caught in the snow; the dogs fly at him, his nose bleeds, Zillah pours a pint of ice water down his back and puts him to bed in a haunted chamber, where he has a terrible dream. Mrs. Dean then begins her tale, and in the first chapter we have a fight between Heathcliff and Hindley. Then Mr. Earnshaw dies in his chair. Heathcliff and Cathy run away to the grange, and he is legraded for it. They lead a dreadful life with Hindley, who becomes a drunkard. Edgar Linton visits Catherine and falls in ove; she, after nearly knocking him over with a blow on the face, accepts him. But we will not continue the catalogue f scenes of the most disgusting violence, f which the remainder of the book is most wholly made up. Catherine's elecon of Linton and her reasons for it, as it the main incident of the story, may be ost properly taken to examine the naralness of the passion. She at last akes a confidant of Nelly: "Nelly, I see now, you think me a selfish "It is not,' retorted she, it is the best! The others were the satisfaction of my whims; and for Edgar's sake, too, to satisfy him. This is for the sake of one who comprehends in his person my feelings to Edgar and myself. I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is, or should be, an existence of yours beyond you. What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning; my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and, if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a My love for Linton is like the foliage in mighty stranger. I should not seem a part of the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath : a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff-he's always in my mind-not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself-but as my own being; so don't talk of our separation againit is impracticable ; and "She paused, and hid her face in the folds of my gown; but I jerked it forcibly away. I was out of patience with her folly. 666 If I can make any sense of your nonsense, miss,' I said, 'it only goes to convince me that you are ignorant of the duties you undertake in marrying, or else that you are a wicked, unprincipled girl."" Now, if Catherine could have found Heathcliff the same night; if he had not run away just at that juncture, and left her to a long brain fever, and finally to a marriage with Linton; if they could have met but an instant, the reader is made to feel that all would be well. What she here utters was but the passing fancy of an extremely capricious, ungoverned girl; her better reason, could it have availed in time, might have brought her to her senses. And so we are wrought upon to love her to the last. But is this natural passion? Would the most imperious, impetuous and wayward young lady that can be imagined, ever |