Language, Love, & Liberation

Book Review (with a rant thrown in for free)

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is a fraught but nonetheless enchanting feat of gothic literature.

The following rant does include many spoilers; in my defense it was published 174 years ago, so you've had plenty of time to get acquainted with the narrative.

The story chronicles the life and loves of our cursed heroine, Helen Huntingdon/Graham. As told through a series of letters by our hero, humble farm owner Gilbert Markam, and an impeccably well kept journal. This tale shares much with the beloved Wuthering Heights (penned by Anne’s sister, Emily), in the setting of the charming countryside of northern England (who doesn’t love a frolic on the moors?), the beautifully crafted family intrigue, and dastardly rouge’s a plenty.

However, I found myself so much more drawn into this tale. Maybe it’s because our leads were much more likable (sorry Kathy and Heathcliff), or maybe it’s due to the surprising relevancy of the plot and theme. At its core The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is the story of domestic abuse.

I myself was rather surprised when it dawned on me what exactly was being depicted here. Helen arrives in town as the intriguing new tenant of the run down hall with a small child in tow. She is reserved and even prickly to the townspeople’s attempts at friendship. She is supporting herself with her art (unheard of for a lady of her time and stature), and allusions are made to the fact that she doesn't want anyone to know where she is currently in residence. The attentions and affections of her neighbor Mr. Markam, force a revelation of sorts.

The diary of Helen Graham, revealing her as Mrs. Helen Huntingdon a long-suffering victim of a cruel and vindictive man. Her account of her courtship by Mr. Huntingdon is littered with red flags. He is uncouth, untoward and frequently toys with her emotions (seemingly for his own enjoyment). The subsequent marriage devolves quickly into that of neglect, gaslighting, and well to put it simply, abuse. Mr. Huntingdon is a scoundrel of the highest order. Abandoning his wife in the country and spending months on end in London gambling, drinking and god knows what else. If ever Helen complains of his behavior he says she is the cause of his upset. That she is failing in her marriage vows to obey him. Helen is a deeply Christian woman that tries to cultivate goodness in her husband to save his immortal soul. As things go on he becomes crueler, carrying out affairs in front of her, offering her freely to any of his friends (big yikes), and trying to corrupt their young son. He uses this child to trap her in the marriage and makes sure she has no financial means of escape. His cruelty goes so far as to try to take any earthly pleasure from his wife, happily condemning her to a miserable existence for his own amusement.

At this point it seems fairly obvious to me that this is a rather textbook example of domestic abuse. Abuse isn’t always physical violence. It is often manipulating a person’s understanding of reality, attacking their self worth by debasing them at every opportunity, humiliation, isolation from loved ones, financial control, manipulating how others see the person (especially children), and the list really does go on. What was so astonishing to me was that this book is set almost 200 years ago. And yet it is a very modern tale of a woman’s struggle to free herself and her child from her abuser. The experiences of Helen Huntingdon echo that of many women today, but she didn't have the language to understand her experiences.

Language is the fundamental cornerstone upon which we build our reality. We use language to construct meaning; it allows us a way to think about our experiences and the world around us. In the world of Bronte there is no such thing as dating red flags, or gaslighting, or domestic abuse. Not having access to the language to describe these experiences in this way shapes how those experiences are understood. Helen does not see herself as a victim of abuse, or her husband as her abuser. Her husband is cruel, and ungodly, and she is simply in a situation of her own making as she is the one that did not make a good choice in husband.

The use or disuse of language renders a very different reality. Today we have the language. We have an entire vocabulary to identify, explain, and understand abuse of many kinds. There are terms that act as shortcuts to meaning. It empowers victims to speak and construct meaning around there experiences. They get to control the narrative by controlling the language. I imagine that things would have gone very differently for our heroine if she could ask for help. If she could say, I am being abused. I need help to escape this dangerous person that is hurting me. Having the words to frame violence in this way is a privilege that serves and protects many.

Another key aspect of the plot of Wildfell Hall is that Helen cannot leave the circumstance she finds herself in without leaving behind her child and her fortune. Both of those things are her husband’s rightful property, ownership transferred to him upon their marriage. This system traps Helen. It disempowers her. She is unable to make decisions about her life, as she has no control over something as important as her child or her finances. She was completely reliant on the whims and good nature of her husband (and those ultimately failed her).

Helen’s story represents a common state of affairs. Nothing about this is surprising at the time. Mr. Huntingdon uses his child as a hostage to control his wife, and furthermore he intentionally tries to corrupt the child and turn him against his mother. The child is little more than a weapon to his father, and unfortunately a rather effective one. He also limits her financial freedoms. Upon discovering her plot to leave him he takes all of her valuable possessions (whether that is fiscal value or sentimental value) and limits her access to money. For a time he effectively thwarts her. Ultimately she is only able to flee with the aid of her brother.

This kind of control over women’s autonomy is a common fact of history. This was how things were done for centuries. It was here that I was reminded to be grateful for all the fighting and suffering of the brave women and men that fought for the relative freedoms my sex enjoy today (I am speaking as a white middle class women in a wealthy country so I know not all women revel in these privileges).

Women’s suffrage, the women’s liberation movement, the F word (feminism for the uninitiated) have afforded me the kinds of freedoms that Helen was not. I can be employed and earn my own money, I can open a bank account, get a loan. If I get married my money remains my own, and I am given legal protections to keep it. Any children I have will be mine, equally. Well actually things have swung rather far in the opposite direction with this one. Now women are granted custody of children at disproportionately high rates, which is a whole different kettle of problematic fish. I am a person with an identity all my own that does not have to be defined in relation to a man, be that my father, brother or husband. I am educated, can read whatever I want, and be in communion with other like-minded women. I can go out in public unchaperoned, drive a car, dress however the fuck I want. But still, given all of this, it is incredibly hard for victims of domestic abuse to leave. They are still failed repeatedly by the systems that are meant to protect them, by the people that are meant to protect them.

However, I think back to the reality of our dear Helen, the only one she could construct with the language available to her and I want to weep. I want to weep deep sobs heavy with sorrow for all the women before me that found themselves trapped in a world that abused, neglected, and controlled them. A world that was not built for them. And in many ways that is still the world we live in.

Many champion a return to antiquated gender roles that will see women’s lives return to that of the desperate powerlessness of our sweet Helen. When certain people espouse a return to ‘traditional values’, we need to interrogate exactly what it is they mean. Use all the beautiful language to tease out the real meaning. What do ‘traditional values’ even mean? Whatever hard won freedoms women have - they need to be protected.

There has been progress in the last 200 years. But not enough. I still grew up hearing the abuse of women (even women in my own family) explained away, the victim often blamed. The refrain of ‘she asked for it’ whispered like a curse. It was this pervasive belief, kept alive in language, that kept me silent when I was experiencing my own domestic violence. It took me years to say the word abuse, and years more to shift the weight of shame that shrouded me.

There is still too much injustice and pain. There are entrenched systems that oppress many groups in our communities. There are still places where newer systems fail to protect vulnerable people from violence. Reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall reminded me to take a moment to reflect on all the ways in which I live in a better world. To be grateful for all the backbreaking work that was necessary to make that happen.

And most importantly it reminded me that the fight isn’t over, not yet.

No one is free unless we are all free.

We should not, and cannot rest until we raise up everyone out of the abyss of oppression and pain.