CHAPTER 50 Great Expectations


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MY hands had been dressed twice or thrice in the night, and again in the morning. My left arm was a good deal burned to the elbow, and, less severely, as high as the shoulder; it was very painful, but the flames had set in that direction, and I felt thankful it was no worse. My right hand was not so badly burnt but that I could move the fingers. It was bandaged, of course, but much less incon- veniently than my left hand and arm; those I carried in a sling; and I could only wear my coat like a cloak, loose over my shoulders and fastened at the neck. My hair had been caught by the fire, but not my head or face.

When Herbert had been down to Hammersmith and seen his father, he came back to me at our chambers, and devoted the day to attending on me. He was the kindest of nurses, and at stated times took off the bandages, and steeped them in the cooling liquid that was kept ready, and put them on again, with a patient tenderness that I was deeply grateful for.

At first, as I lay quiet on the sofa, I found it painfully difficult, I might say impossible, to get rid of the impression of the glare of the flames, their hurry and noise, and the fierce burning smell. If I dozed for a minute, I was awakened by Miss Havisham's cries, and by her running at me with all that height of fire above her head. This pain of the mind was much harder to strive against than any bodily pain I suffered; and Herbert, seeing that, did his utmost to hold my attention engaged.

Neither of us spoke of the boat, but we both thought of it. That was made apparent by our avoidance of the subject, and by our agreeing -- without agreement -- to make my recovery of the use of my hands, a question of so many hours, not of so many weeks.

My first question when I saw Herbert had been of course, whether all was well down the river? As he replied in the affirma- tive, with perfect confidence and cheerfulness, we did not resume the subject until the day was wearing away. But then, as Herbert changed the bandages, more by the light of the fire than by the outer light, he went back to it spontaneously.

GREAT EXPECTATIONS

I sat with Provis last night, Handel, two good hours.-

`Where was Clara?'

`Dear little thing!' said Herbert. `She was up and down with Gruffandgrim all the evening. He was perpetually pegging at the floor, the moment she left his sight. I doubt if he can hold out long though. What with rum and pepper -- and pepper and rum -- I should think his pegging must be nearly over.'

`And then you will be married, Herbert?'

`How can I take care of the dear child otherwise? -- Lay your arm out upon the back of the sofa, my dear boy, and I'll sit down here, and get the bandage off so gradually that you shall not know when it comes. I was speaking of Provis. Do you know, Handel, he im- proves ? '

`I said to you I thought he was softened when I last saw him.'

`So you did. And so he is. He was very communicative last night, and told me more of his life. You remember his breaking off here about some woman that he had had great trouble with. -- Did I hurt you?'

I had started, but not under his touch. His words had given me a start.

`I had forgotten that, Herbert, but I remember it now you speak of it.'

`Well! He went into that part of his life, and a dark wild part it is. Shall I tell you? Or would it worry you just now?'

`Tell me by all means. Every word.'

Herbert bent forward to look at me more nearly, as if my reply had been rather more hurried or more eager than he could quite account for. `Your head is cool?' he said, touching it.

`Quite,' said I. `Tell me what Provis said, my dear Herbert.'

`It seems,' said Herbert, `-- there's a bandage off most charmingly, and now comes the cool one -- makes you shrink at first, my poor dear fellow, don't it? but it will be comfortable presently -- it seems that the woman was a young woman, and a jealous woman, and a revengeful woman; revengeful, Handel, to the last degree.'

`To what last degree ?'

`Murder. -- Does it strike too cold on that sensitive place?'

`I don't feel it. How did she murder? Whom did she murder?'

`Why, the deed may not have merited quite so terrible a name,' said Herbert, `but, she was tried for it, and Mr Jaggers defended her, and the reputation of that defence first made his name known to Provis. It was another and a stronger woman who was the vic- tim, and there had been a struggle -- in a barn. Who began it, or how fair it was, or how unfair, may be doubtful; but how it ended, is certainly not doubtful, for the victim was found throttled.'

`Was the woman brought in guilty?'

`No; she was acquitted. -- My poor Handel, I hurt you!'

`It is impossible to be gentler, Herbert. Yes? What else?'

`This acquitted young woman and Provis had a little child: a little child of whom Provis was exceedingly fond. On the evening of the very night when the object of her jealousy was strangled as I tell you, the young woman presented herself before Provis for one moment, and swore that she would destroy the child (which was in her possession), and he should never see it again; then, she vanished. -- There's the worst arm comfortably in the sling once more, and now there remains but the right hand, which is a far easier job. I can do it better by this light than by a stronger, for my hand is steadiest when I don't see the poor blistered patches too distinctly. -- You don't think your breathing is affected, my dear boy? You seem to breathe quickly.'

`Perhaps I do, Herbert. Did the woman keep her oath?'

`There comes the darkest part of Provis's life. She did.'

`That is, he says she did.'

`Why, of course, my dear boy,' returned Herbert, in a tone of surprise, and again bending forward to get a nearer look at me. `He says it all. I have no other information.'

`No, to be sure.'

`Now, whether,' pursued Herbert, `he had used the child's mother ill, or whether he had used the child's mother well, Provis doesn't say; but, she had shared some four or five years of the wretched life he described to us at this fireside, and he seems to have felt pity for her, and forbearance towards her. Therefore, fearing he should be called upon to depose about this destroyed child, and so be the cause of her death, he hid himself (much as he grieved for the child), kept himself dark, as he says, out of the way and out of the trial, and was only vaguely talked of as a certain man called Abel, out of whom the jealousy arose. After the acquittal she disappeared, and thus he lost the child and the child's mother.'

`I want to ask--'

`A moment, my dear boy, and I have done. That evil genius, Compeyson, the worst of scoundrels among many scoundrels, knowing of his keeping out of the way at that time, and of his reasons for doing so, of course afterwards held the knowledge over his head as a means of keeping him poorer, and working him harder. It was clear last night that this barbed the point of Provis's animosity.'

`I want to know,' said I, `and particularly, Herbert, whether he told you when this happened?'

`Particularly? Let me remember, then, what he said as to that. His expression was, ``a round score o' year ago, and a'most directly after I took up wi' Compeyson.'' How old were you when you came upon him in the little churchyard?'

`I think in my seventh year.'

`Ay. It had happened some three or four years then, he said, and you brought into his mind the little girl so tragically lost, who would have been about your age.'

`Herbert,' said I, after a short silence, in a hurried way, `can you see me best by the light of the window, or the light of the fire?'

`By the firelight,' answered Herbert, coming close again.

`Look at me.'

`I do look at you, my dear boy.'

`Touch me.'

`I do touch you, my dear boy.'

`You are not afraid that I am in any fever, or that my head is much disordered by the accident of last night? '

`N-no, my dear boy,' said Herbert, after taking time to examine me. `You are rather excited, but you are quite yourself.'

`I know I am quite myself. And the man we have in hiding down the river, is Estella's Father.'

Frequently Asked Questions about CHAPTER 50 from Great Expectations

What happens in Chapter 50 of Great Expectations?

In Chapter 50, Pip lies recovering from burns sustained while rescuing Miss Havisham, with his left arm badly injured and carried in a sling. His loyal friend Herbert Pocket nurses him throughout the day, changing his bandages with great tenderness. As Herbert works, he recounts what Provis (Abel Magwitch) told him the previous night: roughly twenty years ago, Provis lived with a young, jealous woman who strangled a rival in a barn and was tried for murder. Mr. Jaggers defended her and won an acquittal. The woman and Provis had a small child together, and on the night of the murder, she threatened to destroy the child and then vanished. Provis went into hiding to avoid testifying. The chapter ends with Pip's stunning realization that Provis is Estella's father.

How does Pip realize that Provis is Estella's father in Great Expectations?

Pip pieces together the connection through a combination of timeline and circumstantial evidence revealed during Herbert's retelling of Provis's history. Herbert mentions that these events occurred "a round score o' year ago," and that Provis's lost daughter would have been about Pip's age when Pip first encountered the convict in the churchyard at age seven. Pip already knows from earlier chapters that Estella is roughly his age, that Jaggers's housekeeper Molly has an intense manner and powerful wrists, and that Jaggers had some secret connection to Estella's origins. These converging details allow Pip to arrive at his dramatic conclusion: "the man we have in hiding down the river, is Estella's Father."

What role does Herbert Pocket play in Chapter 50 of Great Expectations?

Herbert serves a dual role as caretaker and storyteller in Chapter 50. Physically, he is "the kindest of nurses," spending the entire day dressing Pip's burns, steeping bandages in cooling liquid, and tending to his injuries with patient care. Emotionally, he delivers the crucial backstory about Provis's past—his jealous partner, the murder trial, and the lost child—while carefully interweaving medical asides ("There's a bandage off most charmingly") to soften the impact of each revelation. Herbert is unaware of the full significance of what he is sharing; his gentle narration contrasts sharply with Pip's rising agitation, creating dramatic irony that builds to the chapter's climax.

What is revealed about Provis's past in Chapter 50 of Great Expectations?

Through Herbert's retelling, several dark details about Provis's (Abel Magwitch's) past come to light. About twenty years before the events of the novel, Provis lived with a young woman described as jealous and "revengeful to the last degree." This woman strangled another woman during a struggle in a barn and was tried for murder, with Mr. Jaggers securing her acquittal—the case that first established Jaggers's reputation. Provis and the woman had a small child together. On the night of the murder, the woman swore she would destroy the child and disappeared. Provis hid himself to avoid being called to testify, fearing his evidence would lead to her execution. After the trial, the villain Compeyson used knowledge of these events to blackmail Provis, keeping him poor and under his control for years.

What themes are explored in Chapter 50 of Great Expectations?

Chapter 50 develops several of the novel's central themes. The most prominent is the interconnectedness of social classes: the discovery that the refined Estella is the daughter of a convict and an accused murderess demolishes the class boundaries Pip has believed in throughout the novel. The theme of hidden identity reaches a pivotal moment, as Pip recognizes that the fates of the convict from the marshes and the beautiful girl at Satis House have been secretly linked all along. Loyalty and friendship are embodied by Herbert's selfless nursing of Pip, while the theme of exploitation and power emerges through Compeyson's blackmail of Provis. Finally, the interplay of Pip's physical burns and his psychological turmoil underscores the novel's recurring motif of suffering as a path to self-knowledge.

How does Dickens use dramatic irony in Chapter 50 of Great Expectations?

Dickens employs dramatic irony throughout Chapter 50 by having Herbert innocently narrate Provis's backstory while Pip—and the attentive reader—grasps its explosive implications. Herbert treats the tale as interesting biography, pausing only to ask, "Did I hurt you?" when Pip flinches—not realizing Pip's reaction is to the words, not the bandages. This gap between Herbert's understanding and Pip's creates mounting tension. Dickens also uses the interleaved narrative technique of weaving medical care into storytelling, so each painful revelation about Provis is cushioned by a gentle aside about dressings and slings. The result is a chapter where the true drama unfolds entirely in Pip's mind, culminating in a single declarative sentence that reframes much of the novel.

 

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