-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Дэвид Копперфильд
-
- Стр. 1/820
David Copperfield
Whether
I
shall
turn
out
to
be
the
hero
of
my
own
life
,
or
whether
that
station
will
be
held
by
anybody
else
,
these
pages
must
show
.
To
begin
my
life
with
the
beginning
of
my
life
,
I
record
that
I
was
born
(
as
I
have
been
informed
and
believe
)
on
a
Friday
,
at
twelve
o
’
clock
at
night
.
It
was
remarked
that
the
clock
began
to
strike
,
and
I
began
to
cry
,
simultaneously
.
In
consideration
of
the
day
and
hour
of
my
birth
,
it
was
declared
by
the
nurse
,
and
by
some
sage
women
in
the
neighbourhood
who
had
taken
a
lively
interest
in
me
several
months
before
there
was
any
possibility
of
our
becoming
personally
acquainted
,
first
,
that
I
was
destined
to
be
unlucky
in
life
;
and
secondly
,
that
I
was
privileged
to
see
ghosts
and
spirits
;
both
these
gifts
inevitably
attaching
,
as
they
believed
,
to
all
unlucky
infants
of
either
gender
,
born
towards
the
small
hours
on
a
Friday
night
.
I
need
say
nothing
here
,
on
the
first
head
,
because
nothing
can
show
better
than
my
history
whether
that
prediction
was
verified
or
falsified
by
the
result
.
On
the
second
branch
of
the
question
,
I
will
only
remark
,
that
unless
I
ran
through
that
part
of
my
inheritance
while
I
was
still
a
baby
,
I
have
not
come
into
it
yet
.
But
I
do
not
at
all
complain
of
having
been
kept
out
of
this
property
;
and
if
anybody
else
should
be
in
the
present
enjoyment
of
it
,
he
is
heartily
welcome
to
keep
it
.
I
was
born
with
a
caul
,
which
was
advertised
for
sale
,
in
the
newspapers
,
at
the
low
price
of
fifteen
guineas
.
Whether
sea
-
going
people
were
short
of
money
about
that
time
,
or
were
short
of
faith
and
preferred
cork
jackets
,
I
don
’
t
know
;
all
I
know
is
,
that
there
was
but
one
solitary
bidding
,
and
that
was
from
an
attorney
connected
with
the
bill
-
broking
business
,
who
offered
two
pounds
in
cash
,
and
the
balance
in
sherry
,
but
declined
to
be
guaranteed
from
drowning
on
any
higher
bargain
.
Consequently
the
advertisement
was
withdrawn
at
a
dead
loss
—
for
as
to
sherry
,
my
poor
dear
mother
’
s
own
sherry
was
in
the
market
then
—
and
ten
years
afterwards
,
the
caul
was
put
up
in
a
raffle
down
in
our
part
of
the
country
,
to
fifty
members
at
half
-
a
-
crown
a
head
,
the
winner
to
spend
five
shillings
.
I
was
present
myself
,
and
I
remember
to
have
felt
quite
uncomfortable
and
confused
,
at
a
part
of
myself
being
disposed
of
in
that
way
.
The
caul
was
won
,
I
recollect
,
by
an
old
lady
with
a
hand
-
basket
,
who
,
very
reluctantly
,
produced
from
it
the
stipulated
five
shillings
,
all
in
halfpence
,
and
twopence
halfpenny
short
—
as
it
took
an
immense
time
and
a
great
waste
of
arithmetic
,
to
endeavour
without
any
effect
to
prove
to
her
.
It
is
a
fact
which
will
be
long
remembered
as
remarkable
down
there
,
that
she
was
never
drowned
,
but
died
triumphantly
in
bed
,
at
ninety
-
two
.
I
have
understood
that
it
was
,
to
the
last
,
her
proudest
boast
,
that
she
never
had
been
on
the
water
in
her
life
,
except
upon
a
bridge
;
and
that
over
her
tea
(
to
which
she
was
extremely
partial
)
she
,
to
the
last
,
expressed
her
indignation
at
the
impiety
of
mariners
and
others
,
who
had
the
presumption
to
go
‘
meandering
’
about
the
world
.
It
was
in
vain
to
represent
to
her
that
some
conveniences
,
tea
perhaps
included
,
resulted
from
this
objectionable
practice
.
She
always
returned
,
with
greater
emphasis
and
with
an
instinctive
knowledge
of
the
strength
of
her
objection
,
‘
Let
us
have
no
meandering
.
’
Not
to
meander
myself
,
at
present
,
I
will
go
back
to
my
birth
.
I
was
born
at
Blunderstone
,
in
Suffolk
,
or
‘
there
by
’
,
as
they
say
in
Scotland
.
I
was
a
posthumous
child
.
My
father
’
s
eyes
had
closed
upon
the
light
of
this
world
six
months
,
when
mine
opened
on
it
.
There
is
something
strange
to
me
,
even
now
,
in
the
reflection
that
he
never
saw
me
;
and
something
stranger
yet
in
the
shadowy
remembrance
that
I
have
of
my
first
childish
associations
with
his
white
grave
-
stone
in
the
churchyard
,
and
of
the
indefinable
compassion
I
used
to
feel
for
it
lying
out
alone
there
in
the
dark
night
,
when
our
little
parlour
was
warm
and
bright
with
fire
and
candle
,
and
the
doors
of
our
house
were
—
almost
cruelly
,
it
seemed
to
me
sometimes
—
bolted
and
locked
against
it
.
An
aunt
of
my
father
’
s
,
and
consequently
a
great
-
aunt
of
mine
,
of
whom
I
shall
have
more
to
relate
by
and
by
,
was
the
principal
magnate
of
our
family
.
Miss
Trotwood
,
or
Miss
Betsey
,
as
my
poor
mother
always
called
her
,
when
she
sufficiently
overcame
her
dread
of
this
formidable
personage
to
mention
her
at
all
(
which
was
seldom
)
,
had
been
married
to
a
husband
younger
than
herself
,
who
was
very
handsome
,
except
in
the
sense
of
the
homely
adage
,
‘
handsome
is
,
that
handsome
does
’
—
for
he
was
strongly
suspected
of
having
beaten
Miss
Betsey
,
and
even
of
having
once
,
on
a
disputed
question
of
supplies
,
made
some
hasty
but
determined
arrangements
to
throw
her
out
of
a
two
pair
of
stairs
’
window
.
These
evidences
of
an
incompatibility
of
temper
induced
Miss
Betsey
to
pay
him
off
,
and
effect
a
separation
by
mutual
consent
.
He
went
to
India
with
his
capital
,
and
there
,
according
to
a
wild
legend
in
our
family
,
he
was
once
seen
riding
on
an
elephant
,
in
company
with
a
Baboon
;
but
I
think
it
must
have
been
a
Baboo
—
or
a
Begum
.
Anyhow
,
from
India
tidings
of
his
death
reached
home
,
within
ten
years
.
How
they
affected
my
aunt
,
nobody
knew
;
for
immediately
upon
the
separation
,
she
took
her
maiden
name
again
,
bought
a
cottage
in
a
hamlet
on
the
sea
-
coast
a
long
way
off
,
established
herself
there
as
a
single
woman
with
one
servant
,
and
was
understood
to
live
secluded
,
ever
afterwards
,
in
an
inflexible
retirement
.
