Literary Houses: Ten Famous Houses in Fiction
Why I recommend this Book…
Miss Havisham’s Satis House
Background
Satis House is a great house having a large, walled garden. Mr. Havisham built the house in the 1760s, and beside it is his brewery, his “hobby” since, of course, fine gentlemen of that era did not dilly-dally in trade.
The high wall shelters Satis House from the street. But between the spokes of the iron gates, onlookers catch a glimpse of the front court, the grand entrance, and the main body of the malt-house, with its tall chimney.
At the time of the story, however, tall grass is growing between the paving stones; chains guard the front door; the brewery is in ruins; the house is shuttered and swallowed up in ivy.
But is Satis House entirely deserted? No, there is a thin ribbon of smoke rising from the chimney.
Inside is Miss Havisham, Mr. Havisham’s only daughter. She’s been there for thirty years, in self-chosen isolation, all devoted to revenge.
And yet, she is still rich and powerful.
Vistors
There are few visitors, only her lawyer and inheritance-seeking relatives, who, after ringing the bell, are escorted inside through a side door. By candlelight they’re led along a stone passageway, and then, across another courtyard, where they wait for Miss Havisham’s call.
Back inside the great house they go, up a darkened and closed off staircase. Upon reaching the landing, they notice a wheelchair. Under a closed door, they spot a sliver of light.
Miss Havisham’s Room
When they enter Miss Havisham’s room, her cousins discover a vast and fully-furnished, but messy, room. Fine gowns, bonnets and shawls, all a full generation out of style, are flung about the room. The only movement is the flickering of the coals burning in the fire. Even the candle flames are motionless. The clock on the mantle shelf is silent; the hands stopped at twenty minutes to nine. A bouquet of dead flowers rest, with unopened brown buds, alongside a satin shoe, which has never touched the ground.
The room is a picture of halted life.
Sitting by the fire, veiled and covered in jewels, and wearing a tattered wedding dress, is Miss Havisham. She’s not as old as all the townspeople have made her out to be; she’s still in her forties. But she’s fragile, streaks of white beginning to show in her hair.
She’s too busy watching the two youth to pay much attention to her guests. There’s Estella, her young and beautiful ward, and the orphan Pip. They’re playing cards. And falling in love.
Miss Havisham’s eyes brighten. Whatever is she planning?
She then calls to Pip, and he helps her into the wicker wheelchair waiting on the landing. Down the corridor he pushes her, towards the Banqueting Hall, the finest room in the house.
Miss Havisham recalls how it had looked on that morning, filled with sunlight and bustling movement, the servants setting the table for the wedding breakfast, a tiered cake in the center.
But now it looks rather different.
In the grate a fire is struggling while heavy curtains, lining the windows, block out the daylight. The only sound, mice and the creak of her wheelchair.
Through a dim light the table is revealed, a wedding cake and tall candles, all covered with cobwebs and a pale fungus.
You’ll have to read Great Expectations, if you have not yet had the pleasure of doing so, to learn of Miss Havisham’s tragedy, as well as her plans for the young lovers.
