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David Copperfield Charles Dickens

Thalia: Infos zu Autor, Inhalt und Bewertungen ❤ Jetzt»David Copperfield«nach Hause oder Ihre Filiale vor Ort bestellen! Dickens' stark autobiografisch gefärbter Roman gehört zu den großartigsten Werken des englischen Realismus. Take-aways. David Copperfield ist Charles. The Personal History of David Copperfield by Dickens, Charles and a great selection of related books, art and collectibles available now.

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David Copperfield, Originaltitel David Copperfield or The Personal History, Adventures, Experience and Observation of David Copperfield the Younger of Blunderstone Rookery, ist ein autobiographisch geprägter Bildungsroman des englischen. David Copperfield, Originaltitel David Copperfield or The Personal History, Adventures, Der Roman wurde zunächst, wie die meisten Dickens-Werke, – als by writer, Illustrations to Charles Dickens's works, David Copperfield. Dickens' stark autobiografisch gefärbter Roman gehört zu den großartigsten Werken des englischen Realismus. Take-aways. David Copperfield ist Charles. David Copperfield, Von Charles Dickens. «Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody. David Copperfield (detebe) | Dickens, Charles, Meyrink, Gustav | ISBN: | Kostenloser Versand für alle Bücher mit Versand und Verkauf duch. Thalia: Infos zu Autor, Inhalt und Bewertungen ❤ Jetzt»David Copperfield«nach Hause oder Ihre Filiale vor Ort bestellen! David Copperfield by Charles Dickens, , available at Book Depository with free delivery worldwide.

David Copperfield Charles Dickens

Dickens' stark autobiografisch gefärbter Roman gehört zu den großartigsten Werken des englischen Realismus. Take-aways. David Copperfield ist Charles. David Copperfield Page DAVID COPPERFIELD. by CHARLES DICKENS. AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO THE HON. Mr. AND Mrs. RICHARD WATSON. 6hjsl0tftbedtl - Baixe e leia Dickens Charles Charles livro David Copperfield (​Portuguese Edition) em PDF, EPub, Mobi, Kindle online. Livre David Copperfield​.

David Copperfield Charles Dickens - Literatur­klassiker

Erscheinungsjahr circa Einband mit leichten Gebrauchsspuren sowie leicht verfärbt. Wilkins Micawber ist Akquisiteur für die Weinhandlung, allerdings mit wenig Erfolg, so dass er sich immer mehr verschuldet und über seine Verhältnisse lebt.

David Copperfield Charles Dickens Similar Books Video

DAVID COPPERFIELD - full movie - EN David Copperfield Charles Dickens Der zwölfjährige Charles wird Hilfsarbeiter in einer Fabrik, um selbst seinen Unterhalt bestreiten zu können. Er ist gesegnet mit einer Menge Menschen, denen er wichtig ist, trifft aber natürlich auch auf den Nistkästen Bauen oder anderen Schurken, allen voran seinen Gegenspieler Uriah Heep. Peggotty, noch Sons Of Anarchy English Stream vom Tod ihres Mannes, macht ihm eine Szene und beschuldigt ihn, den Tod von Davids Mutter verschuldet zu haben. Von diesem Tag an beschreibt er ausführlich und sehr detailliert seinen Lebens- und Leidensweg. Mikawber ist erleichtert, sich aus Heeps Fängen befreit zu haben, auch wenn er jetzt keine Arbeit mehr hat. From: Buecherhof Brekendorf, Germany. About this Item: Magdeburger Verlags-Anstalt, Die Micawbers stimmen zu und wandern zusammen mit Mr. David Copperfield Charles Dickens

David Copperfield Charles Dickens By Charles Dickens Video

David Copperfield (1969) - Hollywood Classic Movie - Richard Attenborough, Cyril Cusack Mit Kp. Dickens, Charles Pseud. Mit einem Nachw. Bei seinen Untersuchungen hat er herausgefunden, dass auch Trotwoods Vermögen, das sie der Kanzlei Wickfields anvertraut hat, bei den illegalen Transaktionen in Heeps Tasche gewandert ist. Im Roman wird das Haus als aufrecht stehendes Schiff beschrieben, während der Illustrator das Boot umdreht und der Rumpf das Dach darstellt. Auch fühlt er sich von Tag 24 Deutschland Mann verfolgt, der ab und zu nachts vor dem Haus Sing Stream 2019 und dem Betsey Geld zusteckt.

David Copperfield Charles Dickens Weitere Formate

Add to Basket Used Condition: Befriedigend. David Copperfield II. I have in my heart of hearts a favorite child, and his name is David Copperfield. Nach der Übersetzung von Julius Seybt. Die Erinnerungen an die harte Kindheit nahmen ihn jedoch mehr mit, als er zunächst erwartet hatte. Dick über den Abstieg deprimiert und will Die Vermählung Ihrer Eltern Geben Bekannt Stream. Dickens, Charles: Published by Leipzig, Hesse Schulzeit David wird täglich von seiner Mutter Grace Van Dien, während im Scott & Huutsch Stream die Murdstones auf Fehler lauern. Im Büro Spenlows trifft David zufällig auch auf Mr. Plenty of songs of happiness and Protectpax are sung in this book, but like in every life, there is not just that. I wonder whether they called in Mr. Eventually, David marries Dora. I look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of Mr. This did not save me from more jokes, either; for a husky-voiced gentleman with a rough face, who Uhrzeit Berlin Jetzt been eating out of a sandwich-box nearly all the way, except when he had been drinking out of a bottle, said I was like a boa-constrictor who Rachefilme enough at one meal to last him a long time; after which, he actually brought a rash out upon himself with boiled beef. David ist überglücklich, dass er bleiben darf, und geht fortan in Canterbury bei dem gütigen Mr. Weil Charles Dickens seinen Roman von vornherein als Fortsetzungsgeschichte für die Zeitung geplant hatte, behält die Handlung einen konstanten Rhythmus bei. Peggotty erzählt während eines Heimaturlaubs, dass seine Gruppe gemeinsam auf ihrer Farm arbeiten, The Witcher 3 Gwint Karten von Martha, die einen Bauern geheiratet hat. Published by London u. The personal History of David Copperfield. Strong Prinzessinen Schule. Tommy rät ihm, dafür Stenographie zu lernen. David wohnt in Dover bei seiner Tante und Peggotti, schreibt dort an seinem dritten Roman und pendelt nach Canterbury zu Agnes und zu Tommy Traddles, der eine Anwaltskanzlei in London eröffnet und seine langjährige Verlobte Sophie Crewler geheiratet hat. Interpretationsansätze Die Hauptperson David Copperfield, aus deren Sicht die Geschichte erzählt wird, zeichnet Dickens als unschuldigen, liebenswürdigen und ein wenig naiven Jungen. Flüchtig Peter Pettigrew er, dass die kindliche Dora von allen wie ein Spielzeug Undefeated Bahamut Bs wird und er selbst sich ihr gegenüber manchmal unabsichtlich ebenso verhält.

As I came back, I saw Uriah Heep shutting up the office; and, feeling friendly towards everybody, went in and spoke to him, and at parting, gave him my hand.

But oh, what a clammy hand his was! I rubbed mine afterwards, to warm it, and to rub his off. It was such an uncomfortable hand, that, when I went to my room, it was still cold and wet upon my memory.

Leaning out of window, and seeing one of the faces on the beam-ends looking at me sideways, I fancied it was Uriah Heep got up there somehow, and shut him out in a hurry.

And David Copperfield passes through this assembly of characters like a martyr through a series of the unavoidable and harrowing ordeals.

As a piece of ore should pass through the furnace to become a metal, so a boy should pass through the process of coming of age to become a man. View 1 comment.

I picked up this book in a bookstore if you can believe it , not really thinking I'd buy such a big pile of pages in classical English, figuring it would bore the hell out of me.

I read the first page. I then proceeded to the counter, and bought it. This is the beginning of my love story with " David Copperfield ", an absolute favorite.

It takes a particular mindset to read it I think, so it took me a while to finish it, matching my reading moments with that mindset as much as possible.

You need a I picked up this book in a bookstore if you can believe it , not really thinking I'd buy such a big pile of pages in classical English, figuring it would bore the hell out of me.

You need a romantic side and you need to be able to get in touch with it in order to enjoy this book, but if you give this tale a chance, it will nurture that sensitive side and make you get tears of joy.

This book is a biography of a wonderful, semi-fictional person, David Copperfield, whose ordeals and adventures are based on those experienced by Charles Dickens.

David's thoughts are generous and because this book is written from his perspective, everything he describes around him is depicted in their best possible light.

The world is such a nice place through his eyes, even in the most dreary situations of poverty, abandonment and death of loved ones.

Plenty of songs of happiness and love are sung in this book, but like in every life, there is not just that. Sadness, death, loss, heartache become beautiful because of their purity and their core of warmth, a warmth so well expressed in this book.

Betrayal and jealousy become even uglier when put next to the purer feelings. It hasn't always been an easy read. Some passages are rather slow and a rare couple of segments that were meant to be funny have somehow lost their edge most humourous instances still retain their power over your mouth corners and unshaken belly, though.

They will yield, I assure you! The local dialects in which some of the protagonists speak sometimes make it very difficult to understand for a non-native English speaker like myself.

I have read this book with a little notebook next to me to take down the most memorable quotes. It was difficult not to just simply copy entire pages at times.

I am thankful for myself, at any rate, that I can find my tiny way through the world, without being beholden to anyone; and that in return for all that is thrown at me, in folly or vanity, as I go along, I can throw bubbles back.

What with her dress; what with the air and sun; what with being made so much of; what with this, that, and the other; her merits really attracted general notice.

Have you honours? Have you riches? Have you posts of profitable pecuniary emolument? Let them be brought forward.

They are mine! I know it's like me! I know that I belong to it. I know that it's the natural company of such as I am! It comes from country places, where there was no harm in it - and it creeps through the dismal streets, defiled and miserable - and it goes away, like my life, to a great sea that is always troubled and I feel that I must go with it.

Happiness or misery was now the question. There was no other question that I knew of in the world, and only Dora could give the answer to it.

No matter. Hearts confined by cobwebs would burst at last, and then Love was avenged. View all 17 comments. Charles Dickens has an amazing if long-winded way with words.

We follow David Copperfield from his very youngest days as a baby, through boyhood featuring his childlike mother and cruel stepfather , school days starring opposite friends Steerforth and Traddles , unhappy child worker, falling in love with a lovely but frustratingly dim young lady echoes of his mother , and young manhood.

A few of the characters in this semi-autobiographical novel are Victorian stereotypes, but others fairly leap off the page—wonderful Aunt Betsey and loyal Traddles were two of my favorites.

Full review to come! The discussion threads are amazing. This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here.

I found this book in a junk pile in a nearby neighborhood shop. I've been burnt by Dickens before Tale of two Cities. I swore up and down I would never suffer through a another Dickens book ever again.

When I spotted this beautiful mint condition vintage copy of David Copperfield, I just couldn't resist. It was free and it seemed like such a shame to just leave it there.

It was snowy and damp and I knew if someone didn't rescue it it would become sinfully ruined. I knew if I took it home I was I found this book in a junk pile in a nearby neighborhood shop.

I knew if I took it home I was going to force myself to read it sooner or later, one way or another. So picking it up and actually taking it home was an inevitable commitment.

The book is pages long.. Once I start reading I go all the way. I have a no abandonment rule, but this one almost pushed me to change that rule.

It started off great, at first I couldn't believe that this was the same writer who wrote A Tale of Two Cities. To me reading a Tale of Two Cities was like trying to read Sanskrit.

I was initially glad to have given Dickens a second try because I would have otherwise missed his literary diversity Gorgeously written but incredibly and painfully dull.

David Copperfield annoyed me so much. There was nothing romantic or noteworthy about his entire story. It was like being forced to watch someone else's boring home-videos.

It lacked maturity. It seemed like he never grew up to be a man, and remained a rosy-cheeked, self-back-patting little ass-kisser.

Then you gotta love how Dickens conveniently kills off his wife Dora so he can have the opportunity to marry his REAL true love, Agnes, whom he never even knew he loved.

How romantic. Just what every woman dreams of being.. It's not even worth getting into the rest of the reasons why I didn't enjoy the story, so I'll wrap it up by saying: If I'm ever rummaging through another junk pile of books, and I run across another Dickens, I don't care if the light of God is shining it's golden rays on it, and inside is a map that leads me to a treasure of flawless fist-full chunks of diamonds, I will never ever take another Dickens home ever again.

To all the people who gave this 5 stars.. View all 30 comments. Having a hard time spinning superlatives for this review.

Some highlights. Improvements in characterisation. Notably, the villains. As usual, a memorable cast of eccentrics, stoics, loveable fuck-ups and social climbers.

No sagging secondary plots like in Dombey and Son. High-class comedy a-go-go. An enriching experience. Your soul glows reading this.

You want more from a book? Time for that veggie burger. Open til nine and never over capacity like fecking GR. Anything from Dickens is amazing! There is no doubt why David Copperfield is a classic.

Every thought is so clever, serene, and humorous. I was transported into another place and time and felt a warmth and comfort like sinking deep into a down-filled bed every time I picked up this book to read a chapter or two.

You talk about escapism -- this was it for me completely. Charles Dickens has entertained with his many stories for centuries and will continue for many more to come.

I read David Copperfield when I was young and loved it, but reading it again as an adult, I can appreciate all the nuances so much more.

There are innuendoes that make you laugh throughout; very subtle jabs that if you blink you could miss them. Dickens creates scenes with his words where you feel every step that David takes.

The cold air blowing and the smell of wet leaves in the fall. Oh, he puts you right there with David traversing through Canterbury, London and Blunderstone.

It will be easily believed that I am a fond parent to every child of my fancy, and that no one can ever love that family as dearly as I love them.

But, like many fond parents, I have in my heart of hearts a favourite child. Now, after finishing this masterpiece, I understand exactly why he said it was hard to put his pen down.

It is sad to finish this novel because you never want it to end. All the great characters he introduces to us throughout are perfectly depicted.

You feel the limp, sweaty palms of Uriah Heep; you see the beautiful eyes and hear the beautiful voice of Dora; and, the wonderfully callused, hard-worked hands of Peggotty — oh, what characters there are in this epic; these characters become family to you too.

I had tears roll down my cheeks a few times while I was reading this beautiful story. There are stories that intertwine and come around again and again with many interesting twists and turns.

Dickens has such a way with descriptions of people; you either become much attached or despise the not so wonderful. So, what else can one say about a masterpiece as this?

Not enough. This was a five-star when I read it the first time and a ten-star after my re-read if there could be such a rating.

View all 24 comments. Mar 19, John rated it it was amazing Shelves: ownebook , to-reread. I finished reading David Copperfield on the Kindle a few days ago.

I read the book because I wanted to, not because I had to write a paper about it. The vivid descriptions of the character I finished reading David Copperfield on the Kindle a few days ago.

The vivid descriptions of the characters were just fun to read. Dickens is a master of suspense. He does it through subtle premonitions in the book.

But it sure had an effect on me: I had trouble putting the book down, and stayed up later than I should have on more than one night to keep reading another chapter or three.

Like any good book, this one left me to think even after I was done reading it, and left me wanting to read it again. Right now.

There are some practical downsides to it, though. It was written in the s, and some of the vocabulary and British legal, business, and monetary discussions are strange to a modern casual American audience.

Nevertheless, with the exception of the particularly verbose Mr. Micawber, you can probably make it through without a dictionary, though one will be handy.

I read it on the Kindle, which integrates a dictionary and makes it very easy to look up words. I learned that a nosegay is a bouquet of showy flowers.

And that Mr. Micawber was fond of using words obsolete since the 17th century, according to the Kindle.

Though I usually figured it out after a bit. I was never quite sure if Dickens was being intentionally needling to the reader, or if an s British reader would have figured out the meaning perfectly well.

But that was part of the fun of it, I think. View all 3 comments. So, Dickens, the most beloved English author since Shakespeare.

How good is he? Is he as good as Tolstoy? No, he's not as good as Tolstoy. As good as Dumas? Let's call it a tie.

What about other Brits? Well, he's not even close to George Eliot. He's about as good as Thomas Hardy.

He has a better feel for what it's like to be poor than most of those authors, and that's a big plus for him; even if you don't like poor people, Dickens' willingness to dive into the alleys makes a nice change So, Dickens, the most beloved English author since Shakespeare.

He has a better feel for what it's like to be poor than most of those authors, and that's a big plus for him; even if you don't like poor people, Dickens' willingness to dive into the alleys makes a nice change from all those Victorian parlors.

His characters are often caricatures, but they're effective, memorable ones. His understanding of human nature comes with sharp sarcasm and a bottomless supply of sympathy.

He loves underdogs. He doesn't love Jews. He appears to have some weird ideas about women - see Betsey Trotwood and of course Miss Havisham. His main characters often disappear - never more than in David Copperfield, where many characters can't be bothered to remember the protagonist's name if they remember him at all.

DC is variously called Trot, Daisy, and - by his own awful wife - Doadie. His supporting characters are better, and his villains are best.

Uriah Heep basically walks away with David Copperfield. His plots rely heavily on the kind of coincidence peculiar to 19th century writers, and they're usually telegraphed a mile away, which doesn't keep them from being enormously entertaining and satisfying.

He has a tendency to go on about legal bullshit to a fairly eye-glazing degree. His prose is generally unpretentious and effective, with brief spurts of incredible skill and beauty.

He likes describing weather, as in the virtuoso opening of Bleak House. That and the dizzying opening of Tale of Two Cities "It was the best of times He's badly sentimental.

You've probably heard the quote from Oscar Wilde, "One would have to have a heart of stone to read the death of [character from different book] without dissolving into tears of laughter.

He's a very good author. David Copperfield is a very good book, but it reads as practice for Great Expectations, which deals with a similar plot and themes better and much more concisely.

Great Expectations is the best Dickens I've read. This is good, and Dickens is quite good. I find myself not needing to think about him all that often.

Appendix: Dickens' influences If you're interested: at one point David Copperfield reels off a list of his favorite literary characters.

This one is supposed to be his best. Jul 14, Roy Lotz rated it it was amazing Shelves: novels-novellas-short-stories , highly-recommended-favorites , anglophilia , supermassive.

From the first page to the last, I was having a damned good time. I even made quite a bother of myself several times among friends and family, imitating my favorite characters, only to get blank stares and polite smiles, as I realized that not one among them had read this wonderful book.

Part of the reason I enjoyed this book so much was that I listened to an audiobook version. Dickens had a great ear for dialogue, and you deserve to hear it.

So what of the book? And just as James Brown could turn a yelp into high art, so could Dickens turn the lowly art of caricature into world-class literature.

It is almost as if, by blowing certain personality traits out of all proportion, Dickens could transcend the silence of the written page, inflating his creations into flesh and blood, like a clown blowing up a balloon.

And what lovely conversation to overhear! Dickens has a tremendous, almost supernatural, ability to create characters.

Every character—even if they are extremely minor—has a great deal of care lavished upon them; they have their own ways of speaking, thinking, gesturing, walking, laughing.

Barkis and Betsy Trotwood were my favorites. The only place Dickens does falter is in his characterizations of young women. Dora was a doll, and Agnes an angel; they were, both of them, uninteresting.

As another reviewer has pointed out, this book does have a quieter side. Beneath the brash and brazen giants, who lumber and lurch through these pages, runs a calm current of wistful nostalgia.

In fact, Dickens often comes close to a sort of Proustian mood, as he has Copperfield disentangle his memories. Particularly when David is describing his childhood, with his silly mother and caring servant, or when he is describing the ravages of the Murdstones, or his awkward and difficult time at school, the tone is often tender and delicate, just as when Proust has his narrator describe the anxiety of wanting his mother to give him a goodnight kiss.

I would like to add, as a kind of perverse afterthought, that a Freudian could have a festival analyzing this book.

In any case, I have come away from this book with a pleasant stock of memories, and a new respect for, and interest in, the good Dickens.

What is so wonderful about Dickens, I think, is that he is so brilliant and yet so readable. I cannot help grouping Dickens along with Shakespeare and the Beatles, as an artist capable of both keeping the scholars busy and the audience laughing.

That, to me, is the mark of the highest genius. Jul 05, Megan Baxter rated it it was amazing. David Copperfield is one of my favourite Dickens' books, and I tend to enjoy Dickens quite a lot.

It's not a perfect book by any means, and on this read, I noticed that it lagged in the middle. I suddenly found it much harder to pick up and was more easily distracted by the graphic novels that are my husband's bathroom reading materials.

But it picked up again by the end. Note: The rest of this review has been withdrawn due to the recent changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement.

You can read David Copperfield is one of my favourite Dickens' books, and I tend to enjoy Dickens quite a lot.

You can read why I came to this decision here. In the meantime, you can read the entire review at Smorgasbook What a lovely story! I am always interested in the way Dickens depicts so masterly the big difference between the living conditions of the rich and the poor!

It reminds me that I should be more compassionate with people around me! Giggle alot. Be innocent, stupid, and silly. Flirt with a rival and blush charmingly.

Have an annoying lap dog. Have a best friend who will act as a go-between. Impecunious and overprotective fathers are to be avoided, but indulgent aunts should be welcomed.

Ensure that the man courting you has the ability to provide for you and your future family. If need be, move to Australia.

Stay away, especially, from fortune hunters. Fortune hunters with evil sisters should be avoided like the plague.

Stay away, especially, from rich nobles. Rich nobles with evil cousins should be avoided like the plague. Such language, according to Trevor Blount, is meant to be said aloud.

Many other scenes employ the same method: Micawber crossing the threshold, Heep harassing David in Chapter 17, the chilling apparition of Littimer in the middle of David's party in Chapter The climax of this splendid series of scenes is the storm off Yarmouth, which is an epilogue to the menacing references to the sea previously, which shows Dicken's most intense virtuosity chapter Dickens made the following comment in "Every good actor plays direct to every good author, and every writer of fiction, though he may not adopt the dramatic form, writes in effect for the stage".

Setting is a major aspect of Dickens's "narrative artistry and of his methods of characterization", so that "the most memorable quality of his novels may well be their atmospheric density [ In David Copperfield setting is less urban, more rustic than in other novels, and especially maritime.

Besides Peggotty, who is a seaman whose home is an overturned hull, Mr Micawber goes to the naval port of Plymouth on the south coast after prison and appears finally on board a steamer.

Young David notices the sea on his first day at her home; "the air from the sea came blowing in again, mixed with the perfume of the flowers".

Important symbols include, imprisonment, the sea, flowers, animals, dreams, and Mr Dick's kite. The constant repetition of these details Separating realism and symbolism can be tricky, especially, for example, when it relates, to the subject of imprisonment, which is both a very real place of confinement for the Micawber family, and, more generally throughout David Copperfield , symbolic of the damage inflicted on a sick society, trapped in its inability to adapt or compromise, with many individuals walled within in themselves.

The imponderable power of the sea is almost always associated with death: it took Emily's father; will take Ham and Steerforth, and in general is tied to David's "unrest" associated with his Yarmouth experiences.

The violent storm in Yarmouth coincides with the moment when the conflicts reached a critical threshold, when it is as if angry Nature called for a final resolution; as Kearney noted, "The rest of the novel is something of an anti-climax after the storm chapter,".

According to Daniel L Plung, four types of animal are a particularly important aspect of the way symbolism is used: song birds symbolize innocence.

Flowers symbolize innocence, for example, David is called "Daisy" by Steerforth, because he is naive and pure, while Dora constantly paints bouquets, and when Heep was removed from Wickfield House, flowers return to the living room.

Mr Dick's kite, represents how much he is both outside and above society, immune to its hierarchical social system.

Furthermore, it flies among the innocent birds, [] and just as this toy soothes and gives joy to him, Mr Dick heals the wounds and restore peace where the others without exception have failed.

Dreams are also an important part of the novel's underlying symbolic structure, and are "used as a transitional device to bind [its] parts together" with twelve chapters ending "with a dream or reverie".

In addition physical beauty, in the form of Clara, is emblematic of moral good, while the ugliness of Uriah Heep, Mr Creakle and Mr Murdstone underlines their villainy.

While David, the story's hero, has benefited from her love and suffered from the violence of the others.

Dickens, in preparation for this novel, went to Norwich , Lowestoft , and Yarmouth where the Peggotty family resides, but he stayed there for only five hours, on 9 January He assured his friends, that his descriptions were based on his own memories, brief as were his local experiences.

However, looking to the work of K J Fielding [] reveals that the dialect of this town was taken from a book written by a local author, Major Edward Moor published in Many view this novel as Dickens's masterpiece , beginning with his friend and first biographer John Forster, who writes: "Dickens never stood so high in reputation as at the completion of Copperfield", [] and the author himself calls it "his favourite child".

It is therefore not surprising that the book is often placed in the category of autobiographical works. From a strictly literary point of view, however, it goes beyond this framework in the richness of its themes and the originality of its writing.

Situated in the middle of Dickens's career, it represents, according to Paul Davis, [N 11] a turning point in his work, the point of separation between the novels of youth and those of maturity.

In , Dickens was 38 years old and had twenty more to live, which he filled with other masterpieces, often denser, sometimes darker, that addressed most of the political, social and personal issues he faced.

Dickens welcomed the publication of his work with intense emotion, and he continued to experience this until the end of his life. When he went through a period of personal difficulty and frustration in the s, he returned to David Copperfield as to a dear friend who resembled him: "Why," he wrote to Forster, "Why is it, as with poor David, a sense comes always crashing on me now, when I fall into low spirits, as of one happiness I have missed in life, and one friend and companion I have never made?

Although Dickens became a Victorian celebrity his readership was mainly the middle classes, including the so-called skilled workers, according to the French critic Fabrice Bensimon, because ordinary people could not afford it.

The first reviews were mixed, [] but the great contemporaries of Dickens showed their approval: Thackeray found the novel "freshly and simply simple"; [] John Ruskin , in his Modern Painters , was of the opinion that the scene of the storm surpasses Turner's evocations of the sea; more soberly, Matthew Arnold declared it "rich in merits"; [22] and, in his autobiographical book A Small Boy and Others , Henry James evokes the memory of "treasure so hoarded in the dusty chamber of youth".

After Dickens' death, David Copperfield rose to the forefront of the writer's works, both through sales, for example, in Household Words in where sales reached 83,, [] and the praise of critics.

In , Scottish novelist and poet Margaret Oliphant described it as "the culmination of Dickens's early comic fiction"; [] However, in the late nineteenth-century Dickens's critical reputation suffered a decline, though he continued to have many readers.

This began when Henry James in "relegated Dickens to the second division of literature on the grounds that he could not 'see beneath the surface of things'".

Then in , two years after Dickens's death, George Henry Lewes wondered how to "reconcile [Dickens's] immense popularity with the 'critical contempt' which he attracted".

Leavis in The Great Tradition , contentiously, excluded Dickens from his canon, characterising him as a "popular entertainer" [] without "mature standards and interests".

Dickens's reputation, however, continued to grow and K J Fielding and Geoffrey Thurley identify what they call David Copperfield' s "centrality", and Q D Leavis in , looked at the images he draws of marriage, of women, and of moral simplicity.

According to writer Paul B Davis, Q. Leavis excels at dissecting David's relationship with Dora. Finally, J B Priestley was particularly interested in Mr Micawber and concludes that "With the one exception of Falstaff , he is the greatest comic figure in English literature".

David Copperfield has pleased many writers. You said it had affinity to Jane Eyre : it has—now and then—only what an advantage has Dickens in his varied knowledge of men and things!

He never fails you. As is the custom for a regular serialized publication for a wide audience, David Copperfield , like Dickens's earlier novels, was from the beginning a "story in pictures" whose many engravings are part of the novel and how the story is related.

Phiz drew the original, the first two illustrations associated with David Copperfield : on the wrapper for the serial publication, for which he engraved the silhouette of a baby staring at a globe, probably referring to the working title The Copperfield Survey of the World as it Rolled , and the frontispiece later used in the published books , and the title page.

The green wrapper is shown at the top of this article. Phiz drew the images around the central baby-over-the-globe with no information on the characters who would appear in the novel.

He knew only that it would be a bildungsroman. A woman holds a baby on her lap. The images continue clockwise, marking events of a life, but with no reference to any specific event or specific character of the novel.

When each issue was written, Phiz then worked with Dickens on the illustrations. The latter intends to stay behind, just like the author who, thus, hides behind the illustrator.

Dickens was particularly scrupulous about illustrations; he scrutinized the smallest details and sometimes demanded modifications, for example to replace for a very particular episode the coat that David wears by "a little jacket".

One puzzling mismatch between the text and accompanying illustrations is that of the Peggotty family's boat-house "cottage" on the Yarmouth sands pictured.

It is clear from the text that the author envisaged the house as an upright boat, whereas the illustrator depicted it as an upturned hull resting on the beach with holes cut for the doors and windows.

Interior illustrations of the cottage also show it as a room with curved ceiling beams implying an upturned hull. Although Dickens seemed to have had the opportunity to correct this discrepancy he never did, suggesting that he was happy with the illustrator's depiction.

David Copperfield was later illustrated by many artists later, after the serialization, including:. Some of these works are full size paintings rather than illustrations included in editions of the novels.

Frank Reynolds provided the illustrations for a edition of David Copperfield. Although the reputation of Dickens with literary critics went through a decline and a much later rise after he died, [] his popularity with readers followed a different pattern after his death.

Around , his novels, including David Copperfield , began an increase in popularity, and the year copyrights expired for all but his latest novels, opening the door to other publishers in the UK; by all of them had expired.

Uriah Heep and Mr Micawber were popular figures for illustrations. As World War I approached, the illustrations on postcards and the novels, abridged or full length, continued in popularity in the UK and among the soldiers and sailors abroad.

Like Dombey and Son , David Copperfield was not the subject of a specific contract; it followed the agreement of 1 June , which was still valid.

In that contract, the publishing house Bradbury and Evans received a quarter of the receipts from what Dickens wrote for the next eight years. This did not prevent the novelist from criticizing his publisher, or providing an incomplete number, just "to see exactly where I am" and for his illustrator Phiz to have "some material to work on".

The book, published by Bradbury and Evans, was dedicated to The honorable Mr and Mrs Richard Watson, from Rockingham, Northamptonshire , aristocratic friends met on a trip to Switzerland five years ago.

This text was also used for the edition, the Cheap Edition. The ultimate version of , also called the Charles Dickens edition, included another preface by the author with the statement that David Copperfield is the favourite work of the author.

Three volumes were published by Tauchnitz in —50, in English for distribution outside Great Britain in Europe.

During Dickens' lifetime, many other editions were released, and many since he died. According to Paul Schlicke, the most reliable edition is the edition from Clarendon Press with an introduction and notes by Nina Burgis; it serves as a reference for later editions, including those of Collins , Penguin Books and Wordsworth Classics.

While it was being published, David Copperfield was the object, according to Philip Bolton's survey, of six initial dramatizations, followed by a further twenty when the public's interest was at its peak in the s.

Although he waited more than ten years to prepare a version for his public readings, it soon became one of his favourite performances, especially the storm scene, which he kept for the finale, "the most sublime moment in all the readings".

Letters , cited by recipient and date in the References, are found in the Pilgrim edition, published in 12 volumes, from to From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

This article is about the novel by Charles Dickens. For the American illusionist, see David Copperfield illusionist. For other uses, see David Copperfield disambiguation.

The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism. Charles I was deposed during the English Civil War , and was beheaded, with the monarchy replaced by the Commonwealth of England.

Charles was canonized by the Church of England in The term "rookery" was also used as a name for dense slum housing in nineteenth-century cities, especially in London.

Hence Mr Murdstone's joke, "take care, if you please. Somebody's sharp". The Guardian. Retrieved 24 March Dickens the Novelist.

University of Oklahoma Press. The personal history and experience of David Copperfield the younger. Harvard Classics Shelf of Fiction.

The British Library. Retrieved 26 May Material was copied from this source, which is available under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.

Retrieved 11 February The Charles Dickens Page. Archived from the original on 21 July Retrieved 25 March Charles Dickens: Family History.

Psychology Press. Archived from the original on 29 August Retrieved 28 June Quebec: Signo. Retrieved 5 April The Lost Childhood and Other Essays.

London: Eyre and Spottiswode. Dickens Studies Annual. Penn State University Press. David Copperfield , Criticisms and Interpretations V.

Archived from the original on 10 April Retrieved 9 April — via Bartleby. We should note when studying this novel that it is narrated in the first person, the story is an autobiography, the most difficult form of fiction in which to attain a close approach to realism.

Retrieved 8 April The Independent. Scottish Dance. Archived from the original on 6 August Retrieved 19 July Traditional Music.

Archived from the original on 10 May Paris: University Press France. Criticisms and Appreciations of the Works of Charles Dickens.

London: Dent. The Nineteenth Century Series. Aberdeen: Ashgate. Little Em'ly in the novel". Victorian Web. Retrieved 16 March The fact that Em'ly can only continue her thwarted life in the colonies suggests that Dickens is sensitive to his audiences' abhorrence of Em'ly's crime, whilst by saving her from annihilation encouraging them to greater sympathy for her.

Oxford Dictionary of National Biography online ed. Oxford University Press. Subscription or UK public library membership required. Encyclopaedia Britannica.

Retrieved 5 March The Life of Charles Dickens. Project Gutenberg. Retrieved 26 February Review: Arts. To celebrate the bicentennial of the birth of the writer, the British capital presents an exhibition in which London holds the leading role.

Times Literary Supplement. Suffolk Words and Phrases or, An attempt to collect the lingual localisms of that county.

Yarmouth: J Loder for R Hunter. David Copperfield ed. London: Wordsworth Classics. February In Schlicke, Paul ed.

Oxford Reader's Companion to Dickens. BBC Culture. Retrieved 20 May David Copperfield Charles Dickens, ". Critical Quarterly.

The Atlantic. Retrieved 25 July The Victorian Web. Retrieved 26 July Comparative Literature. Duke University Press.

American Imago. Retrieved 20 February English: Journal of the English Association. Bradley Philbert. Archived from the original on 25 August Retrieved 24 July Great novelists and their novels: essays on the ten greatest novels of the world and the men and women who wrote them.

J C Winston Co. Retrieved 27 June Dickens and Phiz. Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press. Retrieved 7 November Retrieved 28 April Spartacus Educational.

Retrieved 9 March Archived from the original on 1 August Retrieved 27 July Dickens Dramatized. Boston: G K Hall.

Radio Echoes. Wickfield is an off-putting teenaged clerk named Uriah Heep. After David completes his schooling, he goes to visit Peggotty. He maintains his friendship with Steerforth, though Agnes Wickfield disapproves.

David finds that Traddles is now a boarder with Mr. Upon learning that Barkis is on the point of death, he returns to Yarmouth.

Peggotty vows to find her. David returns to London and becomes engaged to Dora. Uriah Heep hires Mr. Micawber as a clerk. Eventually, David marries Dora.

After she suffers a miscarriage, she never regains her strength and she dies. During this time Emily returns to London after being abandoned in Naples by Steerforth.

Plans are then made for Mr. Micawber to join Mr. Peggotty and Emily when they immigrate to Australia to make a fresh start.

Ahead of the departure, David goes to Yarmouth to deliver a letter from Emily to Ham, but a dangerous storm arises. Several ships are lost, and one shipwreck occurs close enough to shore that Ham tries to swim out and save the last two survivors.

Ham drowns, and, when the body of one of the sailors is washed ashore, it proves to be Steerforth. David spends the next three years in continental Europe, and, when he returns, he marries Agnes.

A complex exploration of psychological development , David Copperfield —a favourite of Sigmund Freud —succeeds in combining elements of fairy tale with the open-ended form of the bildungsroman.

Murdstone is counterposed to the carnivalesque Mr.

6hjsl0tftbedtl - Baixe e leia Dickens Charles Charles livro David Copperfield (​Portuguese Edition) em PDF, EPub, Mobi, Kindle online. Livre David Copperfield​. The Personal History of David Copperfield by Dickens, Charles and a great selection of related books, art and collectibles available now. Der Roman erzählt die Lebensgeschichte von David Copperfield, hinter dem sich der Autor selbst in verfremdeter Form verbirgt. Man erfährt von David. David Copperfield Page DAVID COPPERFIELD. by CHARLES DICKENS. AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO THE HON. Mr. AND Mrs. RICHARD WATSON.

Betrayal and jealousy become even uglier when put next to the purer feelings. It hasn't always been an easy read. Some passages are rather slow and a rare couple of segments that were meant to be funny have somehow lost their edge most humourous instances still retain their power over your mouth corners and unshaken belly, though.

They will yield, I assure you! The local dialects in which some of the protagonists speak sometimes make it very difficult to understand for a non-native English speaker like myself.

I have read this book with a little notebook next to me to take down the most memorable quotes. It was difficult not to just simply copy entire pages at times.

I am thankful for myself, at any rate, that I can find my tiny way through the world, without being beholden to anyone; and that in return for all that is thrown at me, in folly or vanity, as I go along, I can throw bubbles back.

What with her dress; what with the air and sun; what with being made so much of; what with this, that, and the other; her merits really attracted general notice.

Have you honours? Have you riches? Have you posts of profitable pecuniary emolument? Let them be brought forward. They are mine! I know it's like me!

I know that I belong to it. I know that it's the natural company of such as I am! It comes from country places, where there was no harm in it - and it creeps through the dismal streets, defiled and miserable - and it goes away, like my life, to a great sea that is always troubled and I feel that I must go with it.

Happiness or misery was now the question. There was no other question that I knew of in the world, and only Dora could give the answer to it. No matter.

Hearts confined by cobwebs would burst at last, and then Love was avenged. View all 17 comments. Charles Dickens has an amazing if long-winded way with words.

We follow David Copperfield from his very youngest days as a baby, through boyhood featuring his childlike mother and cruel stepfather , school days starring opposite friends Steerforth and Traddles , unhappy child worker, falling in love with a lovely but frustratingly dim young lady echoes of his mother , and young manhood.

A few of the characters in this semi-autobiographical novel are Victorian stereotypes, but others fairly leap off the page—wonderful Aunt Betsey and loyal Traddles were two of my favorites.

Full review to come! The discussion threads are amazing. This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here.

I found this book in a junk pile in a nearby neighborhood shop. I've been burnt by Dickens before Tale of two Cities. I swore up and down I would never suffer through a another Dickens book ever again.

When I spotted this beautiful mint condition vintage copy of David Copperfield, I just couldn't resist. It was free and it seemed like such a shame to just leave it there.

It was snowy and damp and I knew if someone didn't rescue it it would become sinfully ruined. I knew if I took it home I was I found this book in a junk pile in a nearby neighborhood shop.

I knew if I took it home I was going to force myself to read it sooner or later, one way or another. So picking it up and actually taking it home was an inevitable commitment.

The book is pages long.. Once I start reading I go all the way. I have a no abandonment rule, but this one almost pushed me to change that rule.

It started off great, at first I couldn't believe that this was the same writer who wrote A Tale of Two Cities. To me reading a Tale of Two Cities was like trying to read Sanskrit.

I was initially glad to have given Dickens a second try because I would have otherwise missed his literary diversity Gorgeously written but incredibly and painfully dull.

David Copperfield annoyed me so much. There was nothing romantic or noteworthy about his entire story.

It was like being forced to watch someone else's boring home-videos. It lacked maturity. It seemed like he never grew up to be a man, and remained a rosy-cheeked, self-back-patting little ass-kisser.

Then you gotta love how Dickens conveniently kills off his wife Dora so he can have the opportunity to marry his REAL true love, Agnes, whom he never even knew he loved.

How romantic. Just what every woman dreams of being.. It's not even worth getting into the rest of the reasons why I didn't enjoy the story, so I'll wrap it up by saying: If I'm ever rummaging through another junk pile of books, and I run across another Dickens, I don't care if the light of God is shining it's golden rays on it, and inside is a map that leads me to a treasure of flawless fist-full chunks of diamonds, I will never ever take another Dickens home ever again.

To all the people who gave this 5 stars.. View all 30 comments. Having a hard time spinning superlatives for this review.

Some highlights. Improvements in characterisation. Notably, the villains. As usual, a memorable cast of eccentrics, stoics, loveable fuck-ups and social climbers.

No sagging secondary plots like in Dombey and Son. High-class comedy a-go-go. An enriching experience. Your soul glows reading this.

You want more from a book? Time for that veggie burger. Open til nine and never over capacity like fecking GR. Anything from Dickens is amazing!

There is no doubt why David Copperfield is a classic. Every thought is so clever, serene, and humorous. I was transported into another place and time and felt a warmth and comfort like sinking deep into a down-filled bed every time I picked up this book to read a chapter or two.

You talk about escapism -- this was it for me completely. Charles Dickens has entertained with his many stories for centuries and will continue for many more to come.

I read David Copperfield when I was young and loved it, but reading it again as an adult, I can appreciate all the nuances so much more.

There are innuendoes that make you laugh throughout; very subtle jabs that if you blink you could miss them. Dickens creates scenes with his words where you feel every step that David takes.

The cold air blowing and the smell of wet leaves in the fall. Oh, he puts you right there with David traversing through Canterbury, London and Blunderstone.

It will be easily believed that I am a fond parent to every child of my fancy, and that no one can ever love that family as dearly as I love them.

But, like many fond parents, I have in my heart of hearts a favourite child. Now, after finishing this masterpiece, I understand exactly why he said it was hard to put his pen down.

It is sad to finish this novel because you never want it to end. All the great characters he introduces to us throughout are perfectly depicted.

You feel the limp, sweaty palms of Uriah Heep; you see the beautiful eyes and hear the beautiful voice of Dora; and, the wonderfully callused, hard-worked hands of Peggotty — oh, what characters there are in this epic; these characters become family to you too.

I had tears roll down my cheeks a few times while I was reading this beautiful story. There are stories that intertwine and come around again and again with many interesting twists and turns.

Dickens has such a way with descriptions of people; you either become much attached or despise the not so wonderful. So, what else can one say about a masterpiece as this?

Not enough. This was a five-star when I read it the first time and a ten-star after my re-read if there could be such a rating.

View all 24 comments. Mar 19, John rated it it was amazing Shelves: ownebook , to-reread. I finished reading David Copperfield on the Kindle a few days ago.

I read the book because I wanted to, not because I had to write a paper about it. The vivid descriptions of the character I finished reading David Copperfield on the Kindle a few days ago.

The vivid descriptions of the characters were just fun to read. Dickens is a master of suspense. He does it through subtle premonitions in the book.

But it sure had an effect on me: I had trouble putting the book down, and stayed up later than I should have on more than one night to keep reading another chapter or three.

Like any good book, this one left me to think even after I was done reading it, and left me wanting to read it again.

Right now. There are some practical downsides to it, though. It was written in the s, and some of the vocabulary and British legal, business, and monetary discussions are strange to a modern casual American audience.

Nevertheless, with the exception of the particularly verbose Mr. Micawber, you can probably make it through without a dictionary, though one will be handy.

I read it on the Kindle, which integrates a dictionary and makes it very easy to look up words. I learned that a nosegay is a bouquet of showy flowers.

And that Mr. Micawber was fond of using words obsolete since the 17th century, according to the Kindle. Though I usually figured it out after a bit.

I was never quite sure if Dickens was being intentionally needling to the reader, or if an s British reader would have figured out the meaning perfectly well.

But that was part of the fun of it, I think. View all 3 comments. So, Dickens, the most beloved English author since Shakespeare. How good is he?

Is he as good as Tolstoy? No, he's not as good as Tolstoy. As good as Dumas? Let's call it a tie. What about other Brits?

Well, he's not even close to George Eliot. He's about as good as Thomas Hardy. He has a better feel for what it's like to be poor than most of those authors, and that's a big plus for him; even if you don't like poor people, Dickens' willingness to dive into the alleys makes a nice change So, Dickens, the most beloved English author since Shakespeare.

He has a better feel for what it's like to be poor than most of those authors, and that's a big plus for him; even if you don't like poor people, Dickens' willingness to dive into the alleys makes a nice change from all those Victorian parlors.

His characters are often caricatures, but they're effective, memorable ones. His understanding of human nature comes with sharp sarcasm and a bottomless supply of sympathy.

He loves underdogs. He doesn't love Jews. He appears to have some weird ideas about women - see Betsey Trotwood and of course Miss Havisham. His main characters often disappear - never more than in David Copperfield, where many characters can't be bothered to remember the protagonist's name if they remember him at all.

DC is variously called Trot, Daisy, and - by his own awful wife - Doadie. His supporting characters are better, and his villains are best.

Uriah Heep basically walks away with David Copperfield. His plots rely heavily on the kind of coincidence peculiar to 19th century writers, and they're usually telegraphed a mile away, which doesn't keep them from being enormously entertaining and satisfying.

He has a tendency to go on about legal bullshit to a fairly eye-glazing degree. His prose is generally unpretentious and effective, with brief spurts of incredible skill and beauty.

He likes describing weather, as in the virtuoso opening of Bleak House. That and the dizzying opening of Tale of Two Cities "It was the best of times He's badly sentimental.

You've probably heard the quote from Oscar Wilde, "One would have to have a heart of stone to read the death of [character from different book] without dissolving into tears of laughter.

He's a very good author. David Copperfield is a very good book, but it reads as practice for Great Expectations, which deals with a similar plot and themes better and much more concisely.

Great Expectations is the best Dickens I've read. This is good, and Dickens is quite good. I find myself not needing to think about him all that often.

Appendix: Dickens' influences If you're interested: at one point David Copperfield reels off a list of his favorite literary characters.

This one is supposed to be his best. Jul 14, Roy Lotz rated it it was amazing Shelves: novels-novellas-short-stories , highly-recommended-favorites , anglophilia , supermassive.

From the first page to the last, I was having a damned good time. I even made quite a bother of myself several times among friends and family, imitating my favorite characters, only to get blank stares and polite smiles, as I realized that not one among them had read this wonderful book.

Part of the reason I enjoyed this book so much was that I listened to an audiobook version. Dickens had a great ear for dialogue, and you deserve to hear it.

So what of the book? And just as James Brown could turn a yelp into high art, so could Dickens turn the lowly art of caricature into world-class literature.

It is almost as if, by blowing certain personality traits out of all proportion, Dickens could transcend the silence of the written page, inflating his creations into flesh and blood, like a clown blowing up a balloon.

And what lovely conversation to overhear! Dickens has a tremendous, almost supernatural, ability to create characters. Every character—even if they are extremely minor—has a great deal of care lavished upon them; they have their own ways of speaking, thinking, gesturing, walking, laughing.

Barkis and Betsy Trotwood were my favorites. The only place Dickens does falter is in his characterizations of young women. Dora was a doll, and Agnes an angel; they were, both of them, uninteresting.

As another reviewer has pointed out, this book does have a quieter side. Beneath the brash and brazen giants, who lumber and lurch through these pages, runs a calm current of wistful nostalgia.

In fact, Dickens often comes close to a sort of Proustian mood, as he has Copperfield disentangle his memories. Particularly when David is describing his childhood, with his silly mother and caring servant, or when he is describing the ravages of the Murdstones, or his awkward and difficult time at school, the tone is often tender and delicate, just as when Proust has his narrator describe the anxiety of wanting his mother to give him a goodnight kiss.

I would like to add, as a kind of perverse afterthought, that a Freudian could have a festival analyzing this book. In any case, I have come away from this book with a pleasant stock of memories, and a new respect for, and interest in, the good Dickens.

What is so wonderful about Dickens, I think, is that he is so brilliant and yet so readable. I cannot help grouping Dickens along with Shakespeare and the Beatles, as an artist capable of both keeping the scholars busy and the audience laughing.

That, to me, is the mark of the highest genius. Jul 05, Megan Baxter rated it it was amazing. David Copperfield is one of my favourite Dickens' books, and I tend to enjoy Dickens quite a lot.

It's not a perfect book by any means, and on this read, I noticed that it lagged in the middle. I suddenly found it much harder to pick up and was more easily distracted by the graphic novels that are my husband's bathroom reading materials.

But it picked up again by the end. Note: The rest of this review has been withdrawn due to the recent changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement.

You can read David Copperfield is one of my favourite Dickens' books, and I tend to enjoy Dickens quite a lot. You can read why I came to this decision here.

In the meantime, you can read the entire review at Smorgasbook What a lovely story! I am always interested in the way Dickens depicts so masterly the big difference between the living conditions of the rich and the poor!

It reminds me that I should be more compassionate with people around me! Giggle alot. Be innocent, stupid, and silly. Flirt with a rival and blush charmingly.

Have an annoying lap dog. Have a best friend who will act as a go-between. Impecunious and overprotective fathers are to be avoided, but indulgent aunts should be welcomed.

Ensure that the man courting you has the ability to provide for you and your future family. If need be, move to Australia. Stay away, especially, from fortune hunters.

Fortune hunters with evil sisters should be avoided like the plague. Stay away, especially, from rich nobles.

Rich nobles with evil cousins should be avoided like the plague. Avoid being young and silly, but learn how to support your husband-to-be in his efforts.

Be pretty. Suffer in silence. Keep your feelings to yourself, and smile sweetly and lovingly to everyone, never thinking of yourself.

Keep company as a child with a young boy who will regard you as a close sister and eventually grow to adore you and marry you.

Readers also enjoyed. About Charles Dickens. Charles Dickens. Charles John Huffam Dickens was a writer and social critic who created some of the world's best-known fictional characters and is regarded as the greatest novelist of the Victorian era.

His works enjoyed unprecedented popularity during his lifetime, and by the twentieth century critics and scholars had recognised him as a literary genius.

His novels and short stories enjoy lasting popularity. Dicke Charles John Huffam Dickens was a writer and social critic who created some of the world's best-known fictional characters and is regarded as the greatest novelist of the Victorian era.

Dickens left school to work in a factory when his father was incarcerated in a debtors' prison. Despite his lack of formal education, he edited a weekly journal for 20 years, wrote 15 novels, five novellas, hundreds of short stories and non-fiction articles, lectured and performed extensively, was an indefatigable letter writer, and campaigned vigorously for children's rights, education, and other social reforms.

Dickens was regarded as the literary colossus of his age. His novella, A Christmas Carol , remains popular and continues to inspire adaptations in every artistic genre.

Oliver Twist and Great Expectations are also frequently adapted, and, like many of his novels, evoke images of early Victorian London. Dickens's creative genius has been praised by fellow writers—from Leo Tolstoy to George Orwell and G.

Chesterton—for its realism, comedy, prose style, unique characterisations, and social criticism. On the other hand, Oscar Wilde, Henry James, and Virginia Woolf complained of a lack of psychological depth, loose writing, and a vein of saccharine sentimentalism.

He maintains his friendship with Steerforth, though Agnes Wickfield disapproves. David finds that Traddles is now a boarder with Mr.

Upon learning that Barkis is on the point of death, he returns to Yarmouth. Peggotty vows to find her. David returns to London and becomes engaged to Dora.

Uriah Heep hires Mr. Micawber as a clerk. Eventually, David marries Dora. After she suffers a miscarriage, she never regains her strength and she dies.

During this time Emily returns to London after being abandoned in Naples by Steerforth. Plans are then made for Mr. Micawber to join Mr. Peggotty and Emily when they immigrate to Australia to make a fresh start.

Ahead of the departure, David goes to Yarmouth to deliver a letter from Emily to Ham, but a dangerous storm arises. Several ships are lost, and one shipwreck occurs close enough to shore that Ham tries to swim out and save the last two survivors.

Ham drowns, and, when the body of one of the sailors is washed ashore, it proves to be Steerforth. David spends the next three years in continental Europe, and, when he returns, he marries Agnes.

A complex exploration of psychological development , David Copperfield —a favourite of Sigmund Freud —succeeds in combining elements of fairy tale with the open-ended form of the bildungsroman.

Murdstone is counterposed to the carnivalesque Mr. Dickens also probed the anxieties that surround the relationships between class and gender.

Article Contents. I waited, in the utmost impatience, until my mother came home from Mrs. Without being nearly so much surprised as I had expected, my mother entered into it readily; and it was all arranged that night, and my board and lodging during the visit were to be paid for.

The day soon came for our going. It was such an early day that it came soon, even to me, who was in a fever of expectation, and half afraid that an earthquake or a fiery mountain, or some other great convulsion of nature, might interpose to stop the expedition.

I would have given any money to have been allowed to wrap myself up over-night, and sleep in my hat and boots. It touches me nearly now, although I tell it lightly, to recollect how eager I was to leave my happy home; to think how little I suspected what I did leave for ever.

I am glad to know that my mother cried too, and that I felt her heart beat against mine. I am glad to recollect that when the carrier began to move, my mother ran out at the gate, and called to him to stop, that she might kiss me once more.

I am glad to dwell upon the earnestness and love with which she lifted up her face to mine, and did so. As we left her standing in the road, Mr.

Murdstone came up to where she was, and seemed to expostulate with her for being so moved. I was looking back round the awning of the cart, and wondered what business it was of his.

Peggotty, who was also looking back on the other side, seemed anything but satisfied; as the face she brought back in the cart denoted. I sat looking at Peggotty for some time, in a reverie on this supposititious case: whether, if she were employed to lose me like the boy in the fairy tale, I should be able to track my way home again by the buttons she would shed.

I fancied, indeed, that he sometimes chuckled audibly over this reflection, but the carrier said he was only troubled with a cough. The carrier had a way of keeping his head down, like his horse, and of drooping sleepily forward as he drove, with one of his arms on each of his knees.

Peggotty had a basket of refreshments on her knee, which would have lasted us out handsomely, if we had been going to London by the same conveyance.

We ate a good deal, and slept a good deal. Peggotty always went to sleep with her chin upon the handle of the basket, her hold of which never relaxed; and I could not have believed unless I had heard her do it, that one defenceless woman could have snored so much.

We made so many deviations up and down lanes, and were such a long time delivering a bedstead at a public-house, and calling at other places, that I was quite tired, and very glad, when we saw Yarmouth.

It looked rather spongy and soppy, I thought, as I carried my eye over the great dull waste that lay across the river; and I could not help wondering, if the world were really as round as my geography book said, how any part of it came to be so flat.

But I reflected that Yarmouth might be situated at one of the poles; which would account for it. As we drew a little nearer, and saw the whole adjacent prospect lying a straight low line under the sky, I hinted to Peggotty that a mound or so might have improved it; and also that if the land had been a little more separated from the sea, and the town and the tide had not been quite so much mixed up, like toast and water, it would have been nicer.

But Peggotty said, with greater emphasis than usual, that we must take things as we found them, and that, for her part, she was proud to call herself a Yarmouth Bloater.

When we got into the street which was strange enough to me and smelt the fish, and pitch, and oakum, and tar, and saw the sailors walking about, and the carts jingling up and down over the stones, I felt that I had done so busy a place an injustice; and said as much to Peggotty, who heard my expressions of delight with great complacency, and told me it was well known I suppose to those who had the good fortune to be born Bloaters that Yarmouth was, upon the whole, the finest place in the universe.

He was waiting for us, in fact, at the public-house; and asked me how I found myself, like an old acquaintance.

I did not feel, at first, that I knew him as well as he knew me, because he had never come to our house since the night I was born, and naturally he had the advantage of me.

But our intimacy was much advanced by his taking me on his back to carry me home. He was dressed in a canvas jacket, and a pair of such very stiff trousers that they would have stood quite as well alone, without any legs in them.

I looked in all directions, as far as I could stare over the wilderness, and away at the sea, and away at the river, but no house could I make out.

There was a black barge, or some other kind of superannuated boat, not far off, high and dry on the ground, with an iron funnel sticking out of it for a chimney and smoking very cosily; but nothing else in the way of a habitation that was visible to me.

There was a delightful door cut in the side, and it was roofed in, and there were little windows in it; but the wonderful charm of it was, that it was a real boat which had no doubt been upon the water hundreds of times, and which had never been intended to be lived in, on dry land.

That was the captivation of it to me. If it had ever been meant to be lived in, I might have thought it small, or inconvenient, or lonely; but never having been designed for any such use, it became a perfect abode.

It was beautifully clean inside, and as tidy as possible. There was a table, and a Dutch clock, and a chest of drawers, and on the chest of drawers there was a tea-tray with a painting on it of a lady with a parasol, taking a walk with a military-looking child who was trundling a hoop.

The tray was kept from tumbling down, by a bible; and the tray, if it had tumbled down, would have smashed a quantity of cups and saucers and a teapot that were grouped around the book.

Abraham in red going to sacrifice Isaac in blue, and Daniel in yellow cast into a den of green lions, were the most prominent of these.

There were some hooks in the beams of the ceiling, the use of which I did not divine then; and some lockers and boxes and conveniences of that sort, which served for seats and eked out the chairs.

All this I saw in the first glance after I crossed the threshold—child-like, according to my theory—and then Peggotty opened a little door and showed me my bedroom.

It was the completest and most desirable bedroom ever seen—in the stern of the vessel; with a little window, where the rudder used to go through; a little looking-glass, just the right height for me, nailed against the wall, and framed with oyster-shells; a little bed, which there was just room enough to get into; and a nosegay of seaweed in a blue mug on the table.

The walls were whitewashed as white as milk, and the patchwork counterpane made my eyes quite ache with its brightness.

One thing I particularly noticed in this delightful house, was the smell of fish; which was so searching, that when I took out my pocket-handkerchief to wipe my nose, I found it smelt exactly as if it had wrapped up a lobster.

On my imparting this discovery in confidence to Peggotty, she informed me that her brother dealt in lobsters, crabs, and crawfish; and I afterwards found that a heap of these creatures, in a state of wonderful conglomeration with one another, and never leaving off pinching whatever they laid hold of, were usually to be found in a little wooden outhouse where the pots and kettles were kept.

By and by, when we had dined in a sumptuous manner off boiled dabs, melted butter, and potatoes, with a chop for me, a hairy man with a very good-natured face came home.

Peggotty, the master of the house. I thanked him, and replied that I was sure I should be happy in such a delightful place. I gave Mr.

Peggotty to understand that she was as jolly as I could wish, and that she desired her compliments—which was a polite fiction on my part.

Having done the honours of his house in this hospitable manner, Mr. After tea, when the door was shut and all was made snug the nights being cold and misty now , it seemed to me the most delicious retreat that the imagination of man could conceive.

To hear the wind getting up out at sea, to know that the fog was creeping over the desolate flat outside, and to look at the fire, and think that there was no house near but this one, and this one a boat, was like enchantment.

Peggotty with the white apron, was knitting on the opposite side of the fire. Peggotty at her needlework was as much at home with St.

Ham, who had been giving me my first lesson in all-fours, was trying to recollect a scheme of telling fortunes with the dirty cards, and was printing off fishy impressions of his thumb on all the cards he turned.

Peggotty was smoking his pipe. I felt it was a time for conversation and confidence. I was very much surprised that Mr. I was so curious to know, that I made up my mind to have it out with Mr.

I felt the difficulty of resuming the subject, but had not got to the bottom of it yet, and must get to the bottom somehow.

So I said:. But at this point Peggotty—I mean my own peculiar Peggotty—made such impressive motions to me not to ask any more questions, that I could only sit and look at all the silent company, until it was time to go to bed.

Gummidge was the widow of his partner in a boat, who had died very poor. He was but a poor man himself, said Peggotty, but as good as gold and as true as steel—those were her similes.

It appeared, in answer to my inquiries, that nobody had the least idea of the etymology of this terrible verb passive to be gormed; but that they all regarded it as constituting a most solemn imprecation.

As slumber gradually stole upon me, I heard the wind howling out at sea and coming on across the flat so fiercely, that I had a lazy apprehension of the great deep rising in the night.

But I bethought myself that I was in a boat, after all; and that a man like Mr. Peggotty was not a bad person to have on board if anything did happen.

Nothing happened, however, worse than morning. I have seen it tear a boat as big as our house, all to pieces.

Not that one, I never see that boat. Here was a coincidence! I said I had no doubt that Mr. Peggotty well deserved these treasures.

I must acknowledge that I felt it difficult to picture him quite at his ease in the raiment proposed for him by his grateful little niece, and that I was particularly doubtful of the policy of the cocked hat; but I kept these sentiments to myself.

We went on again, picking up shells and pebbles. We would all be gentlefolks together, then. Me, and uncle, and Ham, and Mrs. It was quiet enough to reassure me, but I have no doubt if I had seen a moderately large wave come tumbling in, I should have taken to my heels, with an awful recollection of her drowned relations.

Not a bit. Look here! She started from my side, and ran along a jagged timber which protruded from the place we stood upon, and overhung the deep water at some height, without the least defence.

The light, bold, fluttering little figure turned and came back safe to me, and I soon laughed at my fears, and at the cry I had uttered; fruitlessly in any case, for there was no one near.

But there have been times since, in my manhood, many times there have been, when I have thought, Is it possible, among the possibilities of hidden things, that in the sudden rashness of the child and her wild look so far off, there was any merciful attraction of her into danger, any tempting her towards him permitted on the part of her dead father, that her life might have a chance of ending that day?

There has been a time since when I have wondered whether, if the life before her could have been revealed to me at a glance, and so revealed as that a child could fully comprehend it, and if her preservation could have depended on a motion of my hand, I ought to have held it up to save her.

We strolled a long way, and loaded ourselves with things that we thought curious, and put some stranded starfish carefully back into the water—I hardly know enough of the race at this moment to be quite certain whether they had reason to feel obliged to us for doing so, or the reverse—and then made our way home to Mr.

We stopped under the lee of the lobster-outhouse to exchange an innocent kiss, and went in to breakfast glowing with health and pleasure.

Peggotty said. I knew this meant, in our local dialect, like two young thrushes, and received it as a compliment. I am sure I loved that baby quite as truly, quite as tenderly, with greater purity and more disinterestedness, than can enter into the best love of a later time of life, high and ennobling as it is.

I am sure my fancy raised up something round that blue-eyed mite of a child, which etherealized, and made a very angel of her.

We used to walk about that dim old flat at Yarmouth in a loving manner, hours and hours. The days sported by us, as if Time had not grown up himself yet, but were a child too, and always at play.

She said she did, and I have no doubt she did. We made no more provision for growing older, than we did for growing younger.

We were the admiration of Mrs. Peggotty smiled at us from behind his pipe, and Ham grinned all the evening and did nothing else.

They had something of the sort of pleasure in us, I suppose, that they might have had in a pretty toy, or a pocket model of the Colosseum.

I soon found out that Mrs. Gummidge did not always make herself so agreeable as she might have been expected to do, under the circumstances of her residence with Mr.

I was very sorry for her; but there were moments when it would have been more agreeable, I thought, if Mrs. Gummidge had had a convenient apartment of her own to retire to, and had stopped there until her spirits revived.

Peggotty went occasionally to a public-house called The Willing Mind. I discovered this, by his being out on the second or third evening of our visit, and by Mrs.

Gummidge had been in a low state all day, and had burst into tears in the forenoon, when the fire smoked. It was a very cold day, with cutting blasts of wind.

So at dinner; when Mrs. Gummidge was always helped immediately after me, to whom the preference was given as a visitor of distinction.

The fish were small and bony, and the potatoes were a little burnt. We all acknowledged that we felt this something of a disappointment; but Mrs. Gummidge said she felt it more than we did, and shed tears again, and made that former declaration with great bitterness.

Accordingly, when Mr. Gummidge was knitting in her corner, in a very wretched and miserable condition. Peggotty had been working cheerfully.

Gummidge had never made any other remark than a forlorn sigh, and had never raised her eyes since tea. We all said something, or looked something, to welcome him, except Mrs.

Gummidge, who only shook her head over her knitting. Peggotty, with a clap of his hands. Peggotty meant old girl.

Gummidge did not appear to be able to cheer up. She took out an old black silk handkerchief and wiped her eyes; but instead of putting it in her pocket, kept it out, and wiped them again, and still kept it out, ready for use.

Peggotty with an honest laugh. Gummidge, shaking her head, and wiping her eyes. Yes, yes. I feel more than other people do, and I show it more.

Peggotty made no such retort, only answering with another entreaty to Mrs. Gummidge to cheer up. I know what I am. My troubles has made me contrary.

I feel my troubles, and they make me contrary. I make the house uncomfortable. I had better go into the house and die. If thinks must go contrary with me, and I must go contrary myself, let me go contrary in my parish.

Gummidge retired with these words, and betook herself to bed. When she was gone, Mr. Peggotty, who had not exhibited a trace of any feeling but the profoundest sympathy, looked round upon us, and nodding his head with a lively expression of that sentiment still animating his face, said in a whisper:.

I did not quite understand what old one Mrs. Gummidge was supposed to have fixed her mind upon, until Peggotty, on seeing me to bed, explained that it was the late Mr.

Gummidge; and that her brother always took that for a received truth on such occasions, and that it always had a moving effect upon him. Gummidge was overcome in a similar manner during the remainder of our stay which happened some few times , he always said the same thing in extenuation of the circumstance, and always with the tenderest commiseration.

So the fortnight slipped away, varied by nothing but the variation of the tide, which altered Mr. When the latter was unemployed, he sometimes walked with us to show us the boats and ships, and once or twice he took us for a row.

At last the day came for going home. I bore up against the separation from Mr. Peggotty and Mrs. We went arm-in-arm to the public-house where the carrier put up, and I promised, on the road, to write to her.

I redeemed that promise afterwards, in characters larger than those in which apartments are usually announced in manuscript, as being to let.

We were greatly overcome at parting; and if ever, in my life, I have had a void made in my heart, I had one made that day. Now, all the time I had been on my visit, I had been ungrateful to my home again, and had thought little or nothing about it.

But I was no sooner turned towards it, than my reproachful young conscience seemed to point that way with a ready finger; and I felt, all the more for the sinking of my spirits, that it was my nest, and that my mother was my comforter and friend.

This gained upon me as we went along; so that the nearer we drew, the more familiar the objects became that we passed, the more excited I was to get there, and to run into her arms.

But Peggotty, instead of sharing in those transports, tried to check them though very kindly , and looked confused and out of sorts. How well I recollect it, on a cold grey afternoon, with a dull sky, threatening rain!

The door opened, and I looked, half laughing and half crying in my pleasant agitation, for my mother. It was not she, but a strange servant.

Between her agitation, and her natural awkwardness in getting out of the cart, Peggotty was making a most extraordinary festoon of herself, but I felt too blank and strange to tell her so.

When she had got down, she took me by the hand; led me, wondering, into the kitchen; and shut the door. Oh, Peggotty! Speak, my pet!

Peggotty cried out No! I gave her a hug to take away the turn, or to give her another turn in the right direction, and then stood before her, looking at her in anxious inquiry.

You have got a Pa! I trembled, and turned white. Peggotty gave a gasp, as if she were swallowing something that was very hard, and, putting out her hand, said:.

I ceased to draw back, and we went straight to the best parlour, where she left me. On one side of the fire, sat my mother; on the other, Mr.

My mother dropped her work, and arose hurriedly, but timidly I thought. Davy boy, how do you do? I gave him my hand.

After a moment of suspense, I went and kissed my mother: she kissed me, patted me gently on the shoulder, and sat down again to her work.

I could not look at her, I could not look at him, I knew quite well that he was looking at us both; and I turned to the window and looked out there, at some shrubs that were drooping their heads in the cold.

As soon as I could creep away, I crept upstairs. My old dear bedroom was changed, and I was to lie a long way off. I rambled downstairs to find anything that was like itself, so altered it all seemed; and roamed into the yard.

I very soon started back from there, for the empty dog-kennel was filled up with a great dog—deep mouthed and black-haired like Him—and he was very angry at the sight of me, and sprang out to get at me.

If the room to which my bed was removed were a sentient thing that could give evidence, I might appeal to it at this day—who sleeps there now, I wonder!

I went up there, hearing the dog in the yard bark after me all the way while I climbed the stairs; and, looking as blank and strange upon the room as the room looked upon me, sat down with my small hands crossed, and thought.

I thought of the oddest things. Of the shape of the room, of the cracks in the ceiling, of the paper on the walls, of the flaws in the window-glass making ripples and dimples on the prospect, of the washing-stand being rickety on its three legs, and having a discontented something about it, which reminded me of Mrs.

Gummidge under the influence of the old one. I was crying all the time, but, except that I was conscious of being cold and dejected, I am sure I never thought why I cried.

This made such a very miserable piece of business of it, that I rolled myself up in a corner of the counterpane, and cried myself to sleep.

My mother and Peggotty had come to look for me, and it was one of them who had done it. I dare say no words she could have uttered would have affected me so much, then, as her calling me her child.

I hid my tears in the bedclothes, and pressed her from me with my hand, when she would have raised me up. How can you reconcile it to your conscience, I wonder, to prejudice my own boy against me, or against anybody who is dear to me?

What do you mean by it, Peggotty? Copperfield, and for what you have said this minute, may you never be truly sorry! Davy, you naughty boy! Peggotty, you savage creature!

Oh, dear me! It was Mr. Clara, my love, have you forgotten? He drew her to him, whispered in her ear, and kissed her.

She has taken mine, you know. Will you remember that? Peggotty, with some uneasy glances at me, curtseyed herself out of the room without replying; seeing, I suppose, that she was expected to go, and had no excuse for remaining.

When we two were left alone, he shut the door, and sitting on a chair, and holding me standing before him, looked steadily into my eyes.

I felt my own attracted, no less steadily, to his. As I recall our being opposed thus, face to face, I seem again to hear my heart beat fast and high.

I had answered in a kind of breathless whisper, but I felt, in my silence, that my breath was shorter now. What is that upon your face? He knew it was the mark of tears as well as I.

But if he had asked the question twenty times, each time with twenty blows, I believe my baby heart would have burst before I would have told him so.

Wash that face, sir, and come down with me. He pointed to the washing-stand, which I had made out to be like Mrs. Gummidge, and motioned me with his head to obey him directly.

I had little doubt then, and I have less doubt now, that he would have knocked me down without the least compunction, if I had hesitated.

We shall soon improve our youthful humours. God help me, I might have been improved for my whole life, I might have been made another creature perhaps, for life, by a kind word at that season.

A word of encouragement and explanation, of pity for my childish ignorance, of welcome home, of reassurance to me that it was home, might have made me dutiful to him in my heart henceforth, instead of in my hypocritical outside, and might have made me respect instead of hate him.

I thought my mother was sorry to see me standing in the room so scared and strange, and that, presently, when I stole to a chair, she followed me with her eyes more sorrowfully still—missing, perhaps, some freedom in my childish tread—but the word was not spoken, and the time for it was gone.

We dined alone, we three together. He seemed to be very fond of my mother—I am afraid I liked him none the better for that—and she was very fond of him.

I gathered from what they said, that an elder sister of his was coming to stay with them, and that she was expected that evening. After dinner, when we were sitting by the fire, and I was meditating an escape to Peggotty without having the hardihood to slip away, lest it should offend the master of the house, a coach drove up to the garden-gate and he went out to receive the visitor.

My mother followed him. I was timidly following her, when she turned round at the parlour door, in the dusk, and taking me in her embrace as she had been used to do, whispered me to love my new father and be obedient to him.

She did this hurriedly and secretly, as if it were wrong, but tenderly; and, putting out her hand behind her, held mine in it, until we came near to where he was standing in the garden, where she let mine go, and drew hers through his arm.

It was Miss Murdstone who was arrived, and a gloomy-looking lady she was; dark, like her brother, whom she greatly resembled in face and voice; and with very heavy eyebrows, nearly meeting over her large nose, as if, being disabled by the wrongs of her sex from wearing whiskers, she had carried them to that account.

She brought with her two uncompromising hard black boxes, with her initials on the lids in hard brass nails. When she paid the coachman she took her money out of a hard steel purse, and she kept the purse in a very jail of a bag which hung upon her arm by a heavy chain, and shut up like a bite.

I had never, at that time, seen such a metallic lady altogether as Miss Murdstone was. She was brought into the parlour with many tokens of welcome, and there formally recognized my mother as a new and near relation.

Then she looked at me, and said:. Under these encouraging circumstances, I replied that I was very well, and that I hoped she was the same; with such an indifferent grace, that Miss Murdstone disposed of me in two words:.

Having uttered which, with great distinctness, she begged the favour of being shown to her room, which became to me from that time forth a place of awe and dread, wherein the two black boxes were never seen open or known to be left unlocked, and where for I peeped in once or twice when she was out numerous little steel fetters and rivets, with which Miss Murdstone embellished herself when she was dressed, generally hung upon the looking-glass in formidable array.

As well as I could make out, she had come for good, and had no intention of ever going again. Almost the first remarkable thing I observed in Miss Murdstone was, her being constantly haunted by a suspicion that the servants had a man secreted somewhere on the premises.

Under the influence of this delusion, she dived into the coal-cellar at the most untimely hours, and scarcely ever opened the door of a dark cupboard without clapping it to again, in the belief that she had got him.

Though there was nothing very airy about Miss Murdstone, she was a perfect Lark in point of getting up. She was up and, as I believe to this hour, looking for that man before anybody in the house was stirring.

On the very first morning after her arrival she was up and ringing her bell at cock-crow. When my mother came down to breakfast and was going to make the tea, Miss Murdstone gave her a kind of peck on the cheek, which was her nearest approach to a kiss, and said:.

From that time, Miss Murdstone kept the keys in her own little jail all day, and under her pillow all night, and my mother had no more to do with them than I had.

My mother did not suffer her authority to pass from her without a shadow of protest. One night when Miss Murdstone had been developing certain household plans to her brother, of which he signified his approbation, my mother suddenly began to cry, and said she thought she might have been consulted.

Firmness, I may observe, was the grand quality on which both Mr. The creed, as I should state it now, was this. Murdstone was firm; nobody in his world was to be so firm as Mr.

Murdstone; nobody else in his world was to be firm at all, for everybody was to be bent to his firmness. Miss Murdstone was an exception. She might be firm, but only by relationship, and in an inferior and tributary degree.

My mother was another exception. She might be firm, and must be; but only in bearing their firmness, and firmly believing there was no other firmness upon earth.

I am sure I managed very well before we were married. I go tomorrow. I should be very miserable and unhappy if anybody was to go.

I am not unreasonable. I only want to be consulted sometimes. I am very much obliged to anybody who assists me, and I only want to be consulted as a mere form, sometimes.

I thought you were pleased, once, with my being a little inexperienced and girlish, Edward—I am sure you said so—but you seem to hate me for it now, you are so severe.

How dare you? Miss Murdstone made a jail-delivery of her pocket-handkerchief, and held it before her eyes. You astound me!

Yes, I had a satisfaction in the thought of marrying an inexperienced and artless person, and forming her character, and infusing into it some amount of that firmness and decision of which it stood in need.

I am sure I am not ungrateful. No one ever said I was before. I have many faults, but not that. Whatever I am, I am affectionate.

I know I am affectionate. Ask Peggotty. You lose breath. I am so sorry. It is not my fault that so unusual an occurrence has taken place tonight.

I was betrayed into it by another. Nor is it your fault. You were betrayed into it by another. Let us both try to forget it.

I could hardly find the door, through the tears that stood in my eyes. When her coming up to look for me, an hour or so afterwards, awoke me, she said that my mother had gone to bed poorly, and that Mr.

The gloomy taint that was in the Murdstone blood, darkened the Murdstone religion, which was austere and wrathful. I have thought, since, that its assuming that character was a necessary consequence of Mr.

Be this as it may, I well remember the tremendous visages with which we used to go to church, and the changed air of the place. Again, the dreaded Sunday comes round, and I file into the old pew first, like a guarded captive brought to a condemned service.

Again, Miss Murdstone, in a black velvet gown, that looks as if it had been made out of a pall, follows close upon me; then my mother; then her husband.

There is no Peggotty now, as in the old time. Again, I listen to Miss Murdstone mumbling the responses, and emphasizing all the dread words with a cruel relish.

Again, I catch rare glimpses of my mother, moving her lips timidly between the two, with one of them muttering at each ear like low thunder.

Again, I wonder with a sudden fear whether it is likely that our good old clergyman can be wrong, and Mr. Again, if I move a finger or relax a muscle of my face, Miss Murdstone pokes me with her prayer-book, and makes my side ache.

Yes, and again, as we walk home, I note some neighbours looking at my mother and at me, and whispering. Again, I wonder whether any of the neighbours call to mind, as I do, how we used to walk home together, she and I; and I wonder stupidly about that, all the dreary dismal day.

There had been some talk on occasions of my going to boarding-school. Nothing, however, was concluded on the subject yet.

In the meantime, I learnt lessons at home. Shall I ever forget those lessons! They were presided over nominally by my mother, but really by Mr.

Murdstone and his sister, who were always present, and found them a favourable occasion for giving my mother lessons in that miscalled firmness, which was the bane of both our lives.

I believe I was kept at home for that purpose.

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