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My depression was not alleviated by the announcement, for, I had supposed that establishment to be an hotel kept by Mr. Barnard, to which the Blue Boar in our town was a mere public-house. Whereas I now found Barnard to be a disembodied spirit, or a fiction, and his inn the dingiest collection of shabby buildings ever squeezed together in a rank corner as a club for Tom-cats. (2.21.20)
Pip’s expectations of London are not met, and his hometown inn is far nicer than Barnard’s Inn, which is covered in soot.
So imperfect was this realization of the first of my great expectations, that I looked in dismay at Mr. Wemmick. "Ah!" said he, mistaking me; "the retirement reminds you of the country. So it does me." (2.21.22)
While Barnard’s Inn reminds Londoners of the country, it reminds Pip of something altogether very different. We see the stereotypes of the country life surface in this moment, and suddenly we don’t feel so excited for this new city-living. Anybody have a dirt devil?
At last, when we got to his place of business and he pulled out his key from his coat-collar, he looked as unconscious of his Walworth property as if the Castle and the drawbridge and the arbour and the lake and the fountain and the Aged, had all been blown into space together by the last discharge of the Stinger. (2.25.54)
Similar to Satis House, Wemmick’s castle seems to be suspended in time and seems to belong to another universe altogether. There is an element of magical realism here in the way that Wemmick’s personality changes so drastically.