By Lechi Eke
Charles John Huffman Dickens better known as Charles Dickens, author of such globally acclaimed novels as David Copperfield, Oliver Twist, A Christmas Carol, A Tale of Two Cities, Bleak House, Hard Times, and a host of others amounting to over a dozen novels (15), five novellas, 100s of short stories and many non-fiction articles, had a bleak and very hard childhood.
Born in Portsmouth in 1812 and died in 1870, in Kent, Dickens had spent his early teenage years working in a factory. He could not continue schooling because his father was, plus his entire family except him, thrown into a debtor’s prison for debts he owed. Charles found himself working to support his entire family in prison.
Even when his paternal grandmother died and left his father, John Dickens, 450 pounds which paid his debts and his family was released, Charles’ mother insisted that he continued in the factory work. This embittered him against her.
Coming from such a poor background and being put through child labour, Charles Dickens’ works largely represent that childhood. As an adult and famous author, Dickens campaigned vigorously for the rights of children, including their education and other social reforms.
We should recall that Literary Realism rose in opposition to Romanticism. It was a rejection or negative response to Romanticism. Its aim was to counter the exotic themes and embroidered emotionalism and drama of Romanticism. Realists depicted the unfiltered view of society, the “ugly social truths” which Dickens wrote that he revealed in his work. For example the father of Realism, French painter and sculptor, Gustave Courbet (1819-1877) said he painted what he could see! – Life as it is, no embellishments!
Life in 19th century England was as bleak as Dickens painted it in his novels: Oliver Twist, Great Expectations, etc. Romanticism shunned industrialization, reasoning and discipline or control, and Realism limed the stark reality of industrialization; they presented things as they were. After reading their works, the reader will draw conclusion.
The treatment of young boys in 19th century England was a sour point with Dickens. Many of his novels had that as focus: Oliver Twist, David Copperfield, Great Expectations, etc. The central characters in these novels are young boys. We all know about Oliver Twist asking for more in the Workhouse with eyes feverish with hunger. We all know about the caregivers of these boys who look well-fed and robust.
As an example of English Realism novel, we choose Charles Dickens’ 13th novel, Great Expectations, written in 1860. My choice of this novel among other facts is based on the character, Miss Havisham. We shall see why.
The Plot of Great Expectations:
The story opens with a little seven year old boy named Pip visiting his parents in their final resting place at a burial ground. His name is actually Phillip Pirrip, but his young tongue can only make out the word, Pip. So, everyone calls him Pip.
So Pip, sitting on a headstone his young mind contemplating what it can grasp of life, is startled by the appearance of a breakaway convict who grabs him and demands with threats for a morsel of food and a file to remove his leg shackles. Pip runs off and returns with these items. However, the law catches up with the runaway convict again, and he tells a lie to protect the little boy saying he has stolen the items.
Pip is in great distress at home. He lives with his sister (Mrs Joe) who is very harsh, and her husband who is poor and illiterate, but kind. Joe has an uncle named Mr Pumblechook, who is domineering and into other people’s businesses.
One day, Joe’s uncle, Pumblechook, takes Pip to a grand house called Satis House owned by a wealthy dowager named Miss Havisham, to play. This woman is an oddball that looks like a clothed skeleton complete with regal rags of a wedding gown. All the clocks in her house have stopped at the same time!
In Satis House, Pip meets a very beautiful young woman named Estella, who treats him coldly and contemptuously. Nevertheless, Pip falls in love with her and dreams of becoming a wealthy gentleman so he can marry her.
Pip even fantasizes of the eccentric dowager, Miss Havisham, making him a gentleman and giving him Estella for a wife. To his dismay, Miss Havisham offers to make him a labourer in his brother-in-law’s business! So, Pip becomes the apprentice of a blacksmith, his sister’s husband, Joe.
The little boy, whose heart’s desire, is to become a gentleman in life, works unhappily in the blacksmith’s forge learning and helping his in-law, Joe. At the same time, a good natured and smart young girl, Biddy, an orphan like Pip who runs the general store in their country village; a young girl of Pip’s age who attended the same school with Pip, helps Pip with his education.
Shortly after, Pip’s sister is attacked by an unknown assailant, and becomes paralysed and mute, but from her gestures, Pip gathers that her attacker must be Orlick, Joe’s malevolent day labourer.
One day, young Pip’s dream comes through, as a lawyer from London named Jaggers brings news that Pip has been given a huge fortune by an anonymous benefactor. Pip immediately thinks his benefactor is Miss Havisham, and that she intends for him to acquire such education in London that can make him a gentleman in preparation to marrying Estella.
Pip goes to London for his education. He studies under a tutor named Matthew Pocket and makes new friends. Pip regards his new friends: Matthew’s son, a gentleman named Herbert Pocket, and Jaggers’ law clerk named Wemmick, more highly than his old friends and loved ones. However, his attraction to Estella does not wane. With the help of his friend, Herbert, Pip learns a few tricks on how to act like a gentleman, and he plans that when he turns 21 and comes into his large fortune, he will help Herbert with his business.
The young men live carelessly and acquire debts. It turns out that Jaggers is the lawyer in charge of Miss Havisham’s estate. So, when Pip finds Orlick in Miss Havisha’s house as porter, Pip tells Jaggers of Orlick’s criminal past, and he is sacked. Then, Mrs Joe, Pip’s sister dies and he grieving, goes home for her burial.
The enjoyable process of becoming a gentleman in the city of London continues for Pip until one day, Magwitch, the escaped convict that Pip helped at the cemetery back home suddenly appears at Pip’s apartment in London!
Pip’s fantasy bursts like a balloon on hearing the old convict confess to being his benefactor and not Miss Havisham! Magwitch explains how touched he was at Pip’s kindness to him at the cemetery when he was a boy, so he swore to himself to make Pip a gentleman, and worked towards it. According to the old convict, he made a fortune in Australia and dedicated it to Pip’s education.
At this juncture, the story begins to fall into place. Magwitch is still on the run – from the law and from his former partner in crime, a man named Compeyson whom Pip finds out is the same man who broke Miss Havisham’s heart many years ago, and abandoned her at their altar!
Estella, Pip learns also, is Magwitch’s daughter left with Miss Havisham to raise up, maybe by her father when the going was good between his partner in crime, Compeyson, and Havisham (I take a little liberty to say – hmm… it appears that a thorough scrutiny will definitely yield some excreta in the anal passage of all men).
It turns out that Estella’s caregiver, Miss Havisham, is raising her up to break men’s hearts, in revenge for what happened to her, and Pip happens to be a marionette in her hand. And this, Miss Havisham enjoys.
Although disgusted by all these, Pip is obliged to help his benefactor escape from London. And he and his friends set about it. And as the weeks go by, Pip starts seeing another side of the old convict – he has a good side which makes him begin to care for the convict.
While they are at it, Pip receives some crushing news about Estella marrying an upper class creep known as Bentley Drummie. He visits Satis House; it is true. Estella is married to some undeserving fellow, and Miss Havisham is remorseful and begs Pip for forgiveness for how she has treated him in the past. Pip forgives her.
Later that day, Miss Havisham’s rag of clothes, catch fire as she bends over the fireplace. The old woman goes up in flames and becomes an invalid. She spends the rest of her life repenting of all her wrong doings and asking for Pip’s forgiveness.
Pip returns to London as the story begins to wind down. As they tidy up the arrangement to help Magwitch escape from London, Pip receives an invitation to a shadowy meeting in the marshes. It turns out it is the evil Orlick who has come to avenge himself of Pip’s treatment of him when he was porter at Satis House.
Orlick is set to kill Pip but for the arrival of Herbert and other friends who save Pip. From here, the two friends hurry back to help Magwitch escape in a rowboat, but it turns out that Compeyson has tipped off the police who arrive to stop the escape.
Compeyson and Magwitch fight in the river and the latter drowns the former. Magwitch is arrested and sentenced to death, which he believes is the mercy and forgiveness of God upon him. He dies peacefully.
Pip loses his fortune. He falls ill, and Joe comes to nurse him which brings about their reconciliation. Joe brings some news: Orlick is in prison after robbing Mr Pumblechook; Miss Havisham is dead; she leaves most of her fortune to Matthew and Herbert Pockets. Joe can now read and write, having been taught by Biddy.
Joe returns to the village and Pip decides to go home and marry Biddy. But on getting there, he sees that Biddy has married Joe and they have some children. He is touched that they named one of their boys after him.
Pip goes abroad with Herbert to work in the mercantile trade. After many years, he returns and goes to Satis House and meets Estella there. She’s now a widow. Drummie is dead, but he had treated her badly. She is now a different person. Her former coldness and cruelty are replaced by a certain sad kindness.
The two leave the Satis garden where Pip found Estella, hand in hand. Pip is filled with the belief that he and Estella will never part again.
Excerpt from Great Expectations
This was very uncomfortable, and I was half afraid. However, the only thing to be done being to knock at the door, I knocked, and was told from within to enter. I entered, therefore, and found myself in a pretty large room, well lighted with wax candles. No glimpse of daylight was to be seen in it. It was a dressing-room, as I supposed from the furniture, though much of it was of forms and uses then quite unknown to me. But prominent in it was a draped table with a gilded looking-glass, and that I made out at first sight to be a fine lady’s dressing-table.
Whether I should have made out this object so soon, if there had been no fine lady sitting at it, I cannot say. In an arm-chair, with an elbow resting on the table and her head leaning on that hand, sat the strangest lady I have ever seen, or shall ever see.
She was dressed in rich materials—satins, and 20 lace, and silks—all of white. Her shoes were white.
And she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and she had bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. Some bright jewels sparkled on her neck and on her hands, and some other jewels lay sparkling on the table. Dresses, less splendid than the dress she wore, and half-packed trunks, were scattered about. She had not quite finished dress- ing, for she had but one shoe on—the other was on the table near her hand—her veil was but half arranged, her watch and chain were not put on, and some lace for her bosom lay with those trinkets, and with her handkerchief, and gloves, and some flowers, and a prayer-book, all confusedly heaped about the looking-glass.
It was not in the first few moments that I saw all these things, though I saw more of them in the first moments than might be supposed. But, I saw that everything within my view which ought to be white, had been white long ago, and had lost its luster, and was faded and yellow. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress, and like the flowers, and had no brightness left but the brightness of her sunken eyes. I saw that the dress had been put upon the rounded figure of a young woman, and that the figure upon which it now hung loose, had shrunk to skin and bone.
Once, I had been taken to see some ghastly waxwork at the Fair, representing I know not what impossible personage lying in state. Once, I had been taken to one of our old marsh churches to see a skeleton in the ashes of a rich dress that had been dug out of a vault under the church pavement. Now, waxwork and skeleton seemed to have dark eyes that moved and looked at me. I should have cried out, if I could.
“Who is it?” said the lady at the table. “Pip, ma’am.”
“Pip?”
“Mr Pumblechook’s boy, ma’am. Come—to play.”
“Come nearer; let me look at you. Come close.”
It was when I stood before her, avoiding her eyes, that I took note of the surrounding objects in detail, and saw that her watch had stopped at twenty minutes to nine, and that a clock in the room had stopped at twenty minutes to nine.
“Look at me,” said Miss Havisham. “You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?”
I regret to state that I was not afraid of telling the enormous lie comprehended in the answer “No.”
“Do you know what I touch here?” she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side.
“Yes, ma’am.” (*It made me think of the young man.)
“What do I touch?”
“Your heart.”
“Broken!”
She uttered the word with an eager look, and with strong emphasis, and with a weird smile that had a kind of boast in it. Afterwards, she kept her hands there for a little while, and slowly took them away as if they were heavy.
“I am tired,” said Miss Havisham. “I want diversion, and I have done with men and women. Play.”
I think it will be conceded by my most disputatious reader, that she could hardly have directed an unfortunate boy to do anything in the wide world more difficult to be done under the circumstances.
“I sometimes have sick fancies,” she went on, “and I have a sick fancy that I want to see some play. There, there!” with an impatient movement of the fingers of her right hand; “play, play, play!”
For a moment, with the fear of my sister’s working me before my eyes, I had a desperate idea of starting round the room in the assumed character of Mr Pumblechook’s chaise-cart. But, I felt myself so unequal to the performance that I gave it up…
*(The fugitive Pip meets at the beginning of the novel tells him about a young man who will attack Pip’s heart and liver if he doesn’t help the fugitive.)
**********
I crossed the staircase landing, and enter the room which she indicated. From that room too, the daylight is completely excluded, and it has an airless smell that is oppressive…
It was spacious, and I dare say had once been handsome, but every discernible thing in it was covered with dust and mould, and dropping to pieces. The most prominent object was a long table with a tablecloth spread on it, as if a feast had been in preparation when the house and the clocks all stopped together. An epergne or centerpiece of some kind was in the middle of this clock; it was so heavily overhung with cobwebs that its form was quite undistinguishable, and, as I looked along the yellow expanse out of which I remember its seeming to grow, like a black fungus, I saw speckled-legged spiders with blotchy bodies running home to it, and running out from it, as if some circumstance of the greatest public importance has just transpired in the spider community.
I heard the mice too, rattling behind the panels as if the same occurrence were important to their interests. But the black beetles took no notice of the agitation, and groped about the hearth in a ponderous elderly way, as if they were short-sighted and hard of hearing, and not on terms with one another.
These crawling things had fascinated my attention, and I was watching them from a distance, when Miss Havisham laid a hand upon my shoulder. In her other hand she had a crutch-headed stick on which she leaned, and she looked like the Witch of the place. “This,” said she, pointing to the long table with her stick, “is where I will be laid when I am dead. They shall come and look at me here.” With some vague misgiving that she might get upon the table then and there and die at once, the complete realization of the ghastly waxwork at the Fair, I shrank under her touch.
“What do you think that is?” she asked me, again pointing with her stick, “that where those cobwebs are?”
“I can’t guess what it is, ma’am.”
“It’s a great cake. A bride-cake. Mine.”
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“On this day of the year, long before you were born, this heap of decay,” stabbing with her crutched stick at the pile of cobwebs on the table but not touching it, “was brought here. It and I have worn away together. The mice have gnawed at it, and sharper teeth than teeth of mice have gnawed at me.”
She held the head of her stick against her heart as she stood looking at the table; she in her once white dress, all yellow and withered; the once white cloth all yellow and withered; everything around, in a state to crumble under a touch.
“When the ruin is complete,” said she, with a ghastly look, “and when they lay me dead, in my bride’s dress on the bride’s table – – which shall be done, and which will be the finished curse upon him –so much the better if it is done on this day!”
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