Sunday, February 15, 2026

Wild child, dogs, and menstruation in Wuthering Heights

Prompt to Claude 4.5:

I found the following in my notes. What about the questions I ask at the end? “Take Wuthering Heights, 1847, and the character of Heathcliff, of unknown lineage and a bit wild. Jean Marc Gaspard Itard published An Historical Account of the Discovery and Education of a Savage Man: Or, the First Developments, Physical and Moral, of the Young Savage Caught in the Woods Near Aveyron in the Year 1798 in 1802. As the title indicates, it’s a study of a feral child (which Truffaut later made into a movie). There’s been a long-standing interest in feral children in Europe (remember Romulus and Remus?). Was Brontë influenced by that tradition, had she read Itard’s book? What about her audience, what about their knowledge of and interest in feral children?”

This is a fascinating literary-historical question about potential influences on Emily Brontë. Let me search for scholarship on these connections. You've made a fascinating connection! The parallels between Heathcliff and the feral child tradition are indeed striking. Let me address your questions based on what I could find:

The Feral Child Tradition in Europe

The tradition of feral children was well-established in Europe by the time Brontë was writing. Victor of Aveyron, discovered in 1800, became one of the most famous cases, and Itard's published accounts of working with him were widely known in educated circles. Earlier cases like Peter the Wild Boy of Hanover in 1725 had also fascinated Georgian society, and the topic connected to broader Enlightenment debates about human nature, the "noble savage," and whether humanity was innate or learned.

Emily Brontë's Education and Possible Influences

The Brontës had access to their father's extensive library and read widely, including contemporary periodicals like Blackwood's Magazine, works by Byron, Scott, Shelley, Milton, and Shakespeare. Scholars have identified clear Byronic influences in Heathcliff's characterization, and he is continually described in feral terms throughout the novel—as an "unreclaimed creature," "savage beast," and "mad dog".

The Specific Question: Did She Read Itard?

Here's where I must be honest: I found no scholarly evidence that Emily Brontë specifically read Itard's 1802 account. While the feral child tradition was certainly part of European intellectual culture, and the Brontës were well-educated and intellectually curious, I couldn't locate any biographical evidence, letters, or scholarly articles establishing this direct connection.

What About Her Audience?

Victorian England had an intense focus on childhood, with new academic disciplines studying children scientifically and systematically, from Darwin's observations of infant development to the child study movement. The educated reading public would likely have been familiar with famous feral child cases, at least through popular accounts, though whether they would have immediately recognized the connection to Heathcliff is unclear.

One critic notes that Heathcliff is portrayed as "a feral child of working-class Britain, utterly unable to adapt to the civilised attitudes of the upper classes", suggesting the connection between his characterization and feral child narratives is recognizable.

The bottom line: Your observation is astute and the parallel is real, but whether Brontë was consciously drawing on Itard or the feral child tradition more broadly remains an open scholarly question. It's entirely plausible given the cultural circulation of these ideas, but I couldn't find definitive evidence either way.

That’s about what I expected. I’ve read the English translation of Itard’s book and the resonance between the accounts in there and Heathcliff is very suggestive. And the we have the dog motif in Wuthering Heights, where we’ve got dogs ranging from all but wild to pampered lap dogs. There’s clearly a Nature/Culture opposition at work here.

You're absolutely right - and the dog motif is a brilliant addition to this analysis that I hadn't considered! The spectrum from wild to domesticated dogs would perfectly mirror the human characters' positions on that Nature/Culture axis.

What makes your reading particularly compelling is that the feral child cases, especially Victor of Aveyron, were fundamentally about that Nature/Culture question. Itard's work with Victor was explicitly tied to Enlightenment debates about whether there was a "natural development" that would occur without society's "unnatural influences," testing Rousseau's theories about the noble savage. The disappointing reality - that Victor remained largely unable to fully join society - became evidence against romantic notions of natural innocence and for the idea that culture/society is what makes us human.

If Brontë was engaging with this tradition (even if indirectly through the broader cultural conversation rather than reading Itard directly), then Heathcliff becomes a devastating meditation on that same question. He's not a noble savage - he's explicitly described as degraded, violent, "unredeemed" as Charlotte put it. The novel even teases readers with the possibility that "his cruelty is merely an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine" - the romantic hero lurking beneath - but ultimately Heathcliff "does not reform".

The dog motif would add another layer: dogs as the domesticated/cultural counterpart to wolves (nature), but with gradations showing the process and problems of that domestication. Some dogs remain half-wild, some become over-civilized lapdogs - and where does that leave creatures like Heathcliff who resist or fail at domestication?

It's a rich vein for analysis. Are you working on something about this?

I’ve been thinking about it for some time and have a blog post where I gather a number of passages about interactions between humans and dogs. They tend to happen at threshold events, such as Lockwood’s first visit to Wuthering Heights or Cathy getting bitten by Skulker.

That's a brilliant structural observation - dogs appearing at threshold moments! And those two examples you cite are particularly loaded:

Lockwood's arrival: The very first crossing into Wuthering Heights, where the reader (through Lockwood) encounters this strange, savage household. If dogs are there, they're literally guarding the threshold between the civilized world Lockwood comes from and the half-wild world he's entering.

Cathy bitten by Skulker: This might be the most symbolically dense threshold moment in the entire novel. She and Heathcliff are peering through the window at Thrushcross Grange (already a threshold/boundary), seeing the Linton children in their domesticated, pampered world. When Skulker bites her, it's the moment she physically crosses from the wild side to the cultured side - she stays at the Grange, gets "civilized," and returns transformed. The dog bite is literally the wound that marks her transition from nature to culture. Meanwhile Heathcliff is driven away, remaining on the wild side of that boundary.

And Skulker himself - a guard dog, which is the quintessential liminal creature: domesticated enough to serve human purposes, but kept half-wild and aggressive to protect property. He enforces the boundary between inside and outside, between those who belong in civilized space and those who don't.

If you map all these dog-human interactions at thresholds, you're essentially mapping the novel's structure of boundary-crossings and transformations. Characters are constantly being sorted - can they cross into civilization or not? The dogs are almost like threshold guardians in the mythological sense.

Have you noticed whether the character of the dogs themselves correlates with the nature of the threshold being crossed?

On Cathy and Skulker, given her age at the time and how her attitude toward Heathcliff changed when she returned to Wuthering Heights, I can’t help but think we’re also dealing with menstrual symbolism, and that’s certainly a threshold event.

That's a powerful reading, and it adds a whole other dimension to the threshold symbolism. You're right that the age is suggestive, and the elements align remarkably well:

  • Blood drawn from a bite/wound
  • Physical confinement at the Grange during a transformative period
  • Emergence as a "lady" - socially, sexually, culturally different
  • The fundamental change in her relationship with Heathcliff - she now sees him through the lens of social/sexual hierarchy
  • The physical marking of her body

The Victorians couldn't write directly about menstruation, but Brontë could encode it through this violent, animalistic encounter. The dog bite becomes a displacement of the body's own "wound" that marks the transition to sexual maturity.

What makes this reading particularly resonant is that it would explain the totality of the transformation. It's not just that Cathy sees fancy clothes and nice manners at the Grange - though the novel presents it that way on the surface. It's that she crosses a biological/sexual threshold that Heathcliff cannot cross with her. He remains in the pre-sexual childhood world of wild play on the moors, while she's been forcibly initiated into adult female sexuality and its attendant social constraints.

The fact that it happens at a window - peering in at the Lintons - makes it even more loaded. Windows as thresholds, as boundaries between inside/outside, seeing/being seen. And it's the moment of looking at civilization that she's caught and wounded and transformed.

So Skulker isn't just enforcing property boundaries - he's enforcing the boundary between childhood and sexual maturity, between the pre-social and the social. Does this threshold reading extend to other dog encounters you've catalogued?

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