A greater fear than death
I mentioned (click) that Pip, in Great Expectations,
had shown himself fickle and self-serving but was now trying to right
great wrongs and was balancing a number of things that had to come
together if he was to manage the complex situation. At a critical moment
and in an isolated place he was captured by Orlick, a long time enemy,
and the drunken man swore he was going to end Pip's life. Not only would
he kill him, but since they were at a limekiln he would dispose of Pip
entirely so that absolutely nothing of him would ever be found.
Having
every reason to believe he was right on the brink of destruction Pip's
mind raced through all the letters he had written, arrangements and
promises he had made to make things right. Finally, when he had purposed
to do what was right in the face of great danger and loss to himself,
he was about to vanish and no one would know where he went.
He
said he feared death but that he feared something worse and while the
drunken murderer was rehearsing his threats to kill him here's what Pip
was thinking:
"My mind with inconceivable rapidity,
followed out all the consequences of such a death. Estella's father
would believe I had deserted him, would be taken, would die accusing me;
even Herbert [his intimate friend] would doubt me, when he compared the
letter I had left for him, with the fact that I had called at Miss
Havisham's gate for only a moment; Joe and Biddy would never know how
sorry I had been that night, none would ever know what I had suffered,
how true I had meant to be, what an agony I had passed through. The
death close before me was terrible, but far more terrible than death was
the dread of being misremembered after death. And so quick were my
thoughts, that I saw myself despised by unborn generations—Estella's
children, and their children—while the wretch's words [Orlick's words]
were yet on his lips."
In his pride and new-found
income Pip had developed into a 24-carat snob and became ashamed of Joe,
his dearest and most faithful friend. This led to his misjudging Biddy
(later Joe's wife) and avoiding both her and Joe and when he discovered
that his devoted and extremely generous benefactor was a criminal Pip
loathed him too, despite the fact that his benefactor risked a death
sentence in order to come halfway round the world to see him. All this
reprehensible behaviour and the spirit that fed it was in the past but
no one would ever know it thanks to Orlick who was about to shut a door
Pip could never reopen.
Death away from all those
who had proved to be his friends was bad enough but worse still—worse
than death—was the certainty that he would be "misremembered"—his
shameful ways would have the last word.
Many of us fear the lies that will have the last word while others of us fear the truths
that will have the last word. Pip's shameful treatment of Joe Gargery,
his loathing of his once criminal but now selfless benefactor and his
generally selfish approach to life were not fabrications; but in recent
times Pip had seen himself for what he was, was working to make up for
it all and now no one would know "how true he meant to be." Orlick would
freeze Pip's life in that selfish and thankless mode; that would be the
summary of his life and the stories—the truths, at least aspects
of the truths—about his worst ways would be all that would be told
about him. He knew he merited criticism but he feared that those who
mattered most to him would think him "worse than he was." In his awful
fear he believed that he would now die with his repentance and attempts
at restitution unknown and no one would say of him with profound feeling
what he would later say of his once-wicked and now "softened"
benefactor, "O Lord, be merciful to him a sinner."
Some
sin and have the good sense and strength to move on, to dismiss the
past and pursue honour with all their might but others, for whatever
reasons, have neither the sense nor the strength to leave the ugly past
and move on. Their sin is ever before them, their agony robs them of
peace though they try with all their might to do what is right and out-live
what cannot be set right. And there are "Orlicks" who wouldn't lift a
finger to do physical violence to anyone but who, finding "good reasons"
to tell even ancient stories, kill any possibility of peace
and endanger the possibility of usefulness in the life of sinful "Pips".
In their sly ways they find it "necessary" to spread the word and
freeze the life of a sinner in an ancient setting (always presuming that
they really know what they're talking about).
I've
sinned greatly here (and been sinned against) by taking a truth and
shrinking a man's life until his crime is the sum total of it. I've done
it by ignoring the length and breadth of his goodness and his avowed
purpose to live openly and in honour before God and man.
To
speak or look or act or raise an eyebrow to freeze someone's life in
that way is to bring Orlick to life. To spread the news to people who
will never know the now penitent "Pip" is to freeze him in their minds. They'll never know his agony or "how true he meant to be." All they will know is what "Orlick" allowed them to know.
How
trivial this must appear to be to some readers but Dickens knew better.
Noted Cambridge scholar, author and Dickens specialist, Peter Ackroyd,
acknowledges Dickens' great psychological accuracy and understanding.
Some of us don't need Ackroyd's opinion to see that in Dickens; we feel
it in us, as if Dickens were inside our heads and hearts. This agony and
absence of peace is all too real and is created by the Orlicks who feed
those who are willing to eat the putrid. The fear that haunts some
sinners is given a solid basis when many years later they're confronted
by an often garbled horrible truth they wished they could forget. They
realize a new generation is learning to despise them.
"The death close before me was terrible, but far more terrible than death was the dread of being misremembered after death."