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Charles Dickens
Great Expectations
*
Wielkie nadzieje
Ilustracja na okładce: St Pancras smallpox hospital, London. Oil painting; Iconographic Collections
ISBN 978-83-953030-2-9
Wydawnictwo Wymownia: www.wymownia.pl
Polska wersja językowa w tłumaczeniu Antoniego Mazanowskiego
Angielska wersja językowa zgodna z wydaniem z roku 1861
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THE WORKS OF
CHARLES DICKENS
IN THIRTY VOLUMES
GREAT EXPECTATIONS
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
P. F. COLLIER AND SON
29
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GREAT EXPECTATIONS.
CHAPTER I.
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.
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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
dykes 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.
"Hold your noise!" cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from among the graves at the side
of the church porch. "Keep still, you little devil, or I'll cut your throat!"
A fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his leg. A man with no hat, and with
broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. A man who had been soaked in water,
and smothered in mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by nettles, and torn by
briars; who limped, and shivered, and glared and growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head
as he seized me by the chin.
"O! Don't cut my throat, sir," I pleaded in terror. "Pray don't do it, sir."
"Tell us your name!" said the man. "Quick!"
"Pip, sir."
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