WORKSHEET

English Literature of the Victorian Age

Seminar II: Great Expectations (1861)

Excerpt for Analysis, Chapter I: Tombstone Narratives

My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make
of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called
Pip.
I give Pirrip as my father’s family name, on the authority of his tombstone and my sister,—Mrs.
Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any
likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies
regarding what they were like were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The shape of
the letters on my father’s, gave me an odd idea that he was a square, stout, dark man, with curly black
hair. From the character and turn of the inscription, “Also Georgiana Wife of the Above,” I drew a
childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly. To five little stone lozenges, each about a
foot and a half long, which were arranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were sacred to the
memory of five little brothers of mine,—who gave up trying to get a living, exceedingly early in that
universal struggle,—I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained that they had all been born on
their backs with their hands in their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state of
existence.
Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within, as the river wound, twenty miles of the sea.
My first most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things seems to me to have been gained
on a memorable raw afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain that this bleak
place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and also
Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham,
Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat
wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dikes and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle
feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond was the river; and that the distant
savage lair from which the wind was rushing was the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers
growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip.
…
From Chapter VII
At the time when I stood in the churchyard, reading the family tombstones, I had just enough
learning to be able to spell them out. My construction even of their simple meaning was not very
correct, for I read “wife of the Above” as a complimentary reference to my father’s exaltation to a
better world; and if any one of my deceased relations had been referred to as “Below,” I have no
doubt I should have formed the worst opinions of that member of the family.

Questions:

1. Who is the narrator? What are the main characteristics of the narrative voice?
2. What are the main themes in the excerpt that you can detect?
3. Can you describe the setting and geography that Pip grew up in, including the significance of
the marshes, river, and sea?
4. How does Pip feel about himself, his parents, and his place in the world?
 5. Who is the narrator and from which point of time does the narration happen?
6. What is the relationship between imagination and identity?
7. Are tombstones reliable or unreliable sources of knowledge?

Excerpt for Analysis, Chapter IX: Lies

Now, when I saw Joe open his blue eyes and roll them all round the kitchen in helpless amazement,
I was overtaken by penitence; but only as regarded him––not in the least as regarded the other two.
Towards Joe, and Joe only, I considered myself a young monster, while they sat debating what
results would come to me from Miss Havisham’s acquaintance and favour. They had no doubt that
Miss Havisham would “do something” for me; their doubts related to the form that something would
take. My sister stood out for “property.”
Mr. Pumblechook was in favour of a handsome premium for binding me apprentice to some genteel
trade––say, the corn and seed trade, for instance. Joe fell into the deepest disgrace with both, for
offering the bright suggestion that I might only be presented with one of the dogs who had fought for
the veal-cutlets.
“If a fool’s head can’t express better opinions than that,” said my sister, “and you have got any
work to do, you had better go and do it.” So he went. After Mr. Pumblechook had driven off, and when
my sister was washing up, I stole into the forge to Joe, and remained by him until he had done for the
night. Then I said, “Before the fire goes out, Joe, I should like to tell you something.”
“Should you, Pip?” said Joe, drawing his shoeing-stool near the forge. “Then tell us. What is it,
Pip?”
“Joe,” said I, taking hold of his rolled-up shirt-sleeve, and twisting it between my finger and thumb,
“you remember all that about Miss Havisham’s?”
“Remember?” said Joe. “I believe you! Wonderful!”
“It’s a terrible thing, Joe; it ain’t true.”
“What are you telling of, Pip?” cried Joe, falling back in the greatest amazement. “You don’t mean
to say it’s––––”
“Yes I do; it’s lies, Joe.”
“But not all of it? Why sure you don’t mean to say, Pip, that there was no black welwet co––––eh?”
For, I stood shaking my head.
“But at least there was dogs, Pip. Come, Pip,” said Joe, persuasively, “if there warn’t no weal-
cutlets, at least there was dogs?”
“No, Joe.”
“A dog?” said Joe. “A puppy? Come?”
“No, Joe, there was nothing at all of the kind.”
As I fixed my eyes hopelessly on Joe, Joe contemplated me in dismay. “Pip, old chap! This won’t do,
old fellow! I say! Where do you expect to go to?”
“It’s terrible, Joe; an’t it?”
“Terrible?” cried Joe. “Awful! What possessed you?”
“I don’t know what possessed me, Joe,” I replied, letting his shirt sleeve go, and sitting down in the
ashes at his feet, hanging my head; “but I wish you hadn’t taught me to call Knaves at cards, Jacks;
and I wish my boots weren’t so thick nor my hands so coarse.” And then I told Joe that I felt very
miserable, and that I hadn’t been able to explain myself to Mrs. Joe and Pumblechook who were so
rude to me, and that there had been a beautiful young lady at Miss Havisham’s who was dreadfully
proud, and that she had said I was common, and that I knew I was common, and that I wished I was
not common, and that the lies had come of it somehow, though I didn’t know how.
This was a case of metaphysics, at least as difficult for Joe to deal with, as for me. But Joe took the
case altogether out of the region of metaphysics, and by that means vanquished it.
“There’s one thing you may be sure of, Pip,” said Joe, after some rumination, “namely, that lies is
lies. Howsever they come, they didn’t ought to come, and they come from the father of lies, and
work round to the same. Don’t you tell no more of ’em, Pip. That ain’t the way to get out of being
common, old chap. And as to being common, I don’t make it out at all clear. You are oncommon in
some things. You’re oncommon small. Likewise you’re a oncommon scholar.”
“No, I am ignorant and backward, Joe.”
“Why, see what a letter you wrote last night. Wrote in print even!
I’ve seen letters––Ah! and from gentlefolks!––that I’ll swear weren’t wrote in print,” said Joe.
“I have learnt next to nothing, Joe. You think much of me. It’s only that.”

Questions:
1. What kind of character traits define Joe Gargery?
2. Why does Pip experience shame specifically when he observes Joe's reaction to his fabricated
story about Miss Havisham? (free will vs determinism) Is it up to Pip whether he lies or tells
the truth?
3. To what extent do our social surroundings contribute to shaping our character? How do Pip's
social surroundings influence his personality development?
4. How does Pip respond when Joe emphasizes the negative consequences of telling lies? Does
Pip hold himself accountable?

Excerpt for Analysis: Chapter XXIX

According to my experience, the conventional notion of a lover cannot be always true. The
unqualified truth is, that when I loved Estella with the love of a man, I loved her simply because I
found her irresistible. Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her
against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all
discouragement that could be. Once for all; I loved her none the less because I knew it, and it had no
more influence in restraining me than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection.
(…)
“Hear me, Pip! I adopted her, to be loved. I bred her and educated her, to be loved. I developed her
into what she is, that she might be loved. Love her!”
She said the word often enough, and there could be no doubt that she meant to say it; but if the often
repeated word had been hate instead of love—despair—revenge—dire death—it could not have
sounded from her lips more like a curse.
“I’ll tell you,” said she, in the same hurried passionate whisper, “what real love is. It is blind devotion,
unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the
whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter—as I did!”
(…)
Far into the night, Miss Havisham’s words, “Love her, love her, love her!” sounded in my ears. I
adapted them for my own repetition, and said to my pillow, “I love her, I love her, I love her!”
hundreds of times. Then, a burst of gratitude came upon me, that she should be destined for me, once
the blacksmith’s boy.

Questions:
1. How does Pip describe his love for Estella?
2. How could you explain the overlapping between Miss Havisham’s and Pip’s wishes?
3. Who are the people who Miss Havisham loves/has loved?
4. Who are the people who Pip loves and how does he love them?