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† It is compassion, then, which helps Moomintroll put his ghost to rest in Moominpappa at Sea – Jansson’s stories are full of such moments of tender wisdom, learned, one sus- pects, from hard personal experience. We may also remem- ber how compassion briefly overcame alarm for Lockwood in Wuthering Heights when he saws Heathcliff’s agonised grief. As he listens to the tale of the tragic lovers, related by the housekeeper Nelly Dean, there are moments when one senses that compassion flickering again. At the end, when the story is told – and how often in these tales the act of storytelling is integral to the plot, and unquestionably to its cathartic effect – we sense a powerful contrast. For the locals, it would seem a simple, literal truth that ‘the evil that men do lives after them’; but for Lockwood, brought by Nelly’s narration far closer to the heart of the matter, the outcome is rather different. First she rounds off her story with the recent shocking news of Heathcliff’s death. 172
page 183
Emily Brontë – from Wuthering Heights (1847) – T he following evening was very wet: indeed, it poured down till day-dawn; and, as I took my morning walk round the house, I observed the mas- ter’s window swinging open, and the rain driving straight in. ‘He cannot be in bed’, I thought, ‘those showers would drench him through. He must either be up or out. But I’ll make no more ado, I’ll go boldly and look!’ Having succeeded in obtaining entrance with another key, I ran to unclose the panels, for the chamber was vacant; quickly pushing them aside, I peeped in. Mr. Heathcliff was there – laid on his back. His eyes met mine so keen and fierce, I started; and then he seemed to smile. I could not think him dead – but his face and throat were washed with rain; the bedclothes dripped, and he was perfectly still. The lattice, flapping to and fro, had grazed one hand that rested on the sill; no blood trickled from the broken skin, and when I put my fingers to it, I could doubt no more: he was dead and stark! I hasped the window; I combed his black long hair from his forehead; I tried to close his eyes: to 173

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† It is compassion, then, which helps Moomintroll put his ghost to rest in Moominpappa at Sea – Jansson’s stories are full of such moments of tender wisdom, learned, one sus- pects, from hard personal experience. We may also remem- ber how compassion briefly overcame alarm for Lockwood in Wuthering Heights when he saws Heathcliff’s agonised grief. As he listens to the tale of the tragic lovers, related by the housekeeper Nelly Dean, there are moments when one senses that compassion flickering again. At the end, when the story is told – and how often in these tales the act of storytelling is integral to the plot, and unquestionably to its cathartic effect – we sense a powerful contrast. For the locals, it would seem a simple, literal truth that ‘the evil that men do lives after them’; but for Lockwood, brought by Nelly’s narration far closer to the heart of the matter, the outcome is rather different. First she rounds off her story with the recent shocking news of Heathcliff’s death.

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