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(Text)
Classic from the year 2009 in the subject English Language and Literature Studies - Literature, , language: English, abstract: To Be Read at DuskOne, two, three, four, five. There were five of them.Five couriers, sitting on a bench outside the convent on the summit of the Great St. Bernard in Switzerland, looking at the remote heights, stained by the setting sun as if a mighty quantity of red wine had been broached upon the mountain top, and had not yet had time to sink into the snow.[...]The Trial for MurderI have always noticed a prevalent want of courage, even among persons of superior intelligence and culture, as to imparting their own psychological experiences when those have been of a strange sort. [...]A Walk in a WorkhouseOn a certain Sunday, I formed one of the congregation assembled in the chapel of a large metropolitan Workhouse. With the exception of the clergyman and clerk, and a very few officials, there were none but paupers present. [...]What Christmas Is as We Grow OlderTime was, with most of us, when Christmas Day encircling all our limited world like a magic ring, left nothing out for us to miss or seek; bound together all our home enjoyments, affections, and hopes; grouped everything and every one around the Christmas fire; and made the little picture shining in our bright young eyes, complete.[...]The Wreck of the Golden MaryTHE WRECKI was apprenticed to the Sea when I was twelve years old, and I have encountered a great deal of rough weather, both literal and metaphorical. It has always been my opinion since I first possessed such a thing as an opinion, that the man who knows only one subject is next tiresome to the man who knows no subject.[...]A Message from the SeaCHAPTER I - THE VILLAGE"And a mighty sing'lar and pretty place it is, as ever I saw in all the days of my life!" said Captain Jorgan, looking up at it.Captain Jorgan had to look high to look at it, for the village was built sheer up the face of a steep and lofty cliff. There was no road in it, there was no wheeled vehicle in it, there was not a level yard in it. [...]
(Author portrait)
Charles Dickens (1812-1870), geboren in Landport bei Portsea, wuchs in Chatham bei London auf. Als er elf Jahre alt war, musste sein Vater wegen nicht eingelöster Schuldscheine ins Schuldgefängnis; seine Mutter folgte ihm mit Charles' Geschwistern dorthin. Charles, das zweitälteste Kind, musste währenddessen in einer Schuhwichsfabrik arbeiten. Erst als der Vater nach einigen Monaten entlassen wurde, besuchte Charles wieder eine Schule. Mit fünfzehn begann er in einem Rechtsanwaltsbüro als Gehilfe zu arbeiten, später wurde er Zeitungsreporter.
Seine schriftstellerische Karriere begann er mit seinen Skizzen des Londoner Alltagslebens. Anschließend entstanden in rascher Folge die ersten Romane. Dickens wurde Herausgeber der liberalen Londoner Zeitung "Daily News", reiste in die USA und nach Italien und verfasste 1848/1849 "David Copperfield", der viel autobiographisches Material enthält.
Dickens' liebevolle Schilderungen menschlicher Schwächen, sein Kosmos skurriler und schrulliger englischer "Originale" und die satirische Anprangerung sozialer Missstände machten ihn bereits zu Lebzeiten zu einem der beliebtesten Romanciers der Weltliteratur. Seine Bücher brachten ihm außerdem beträchtlichen Wohlstand ein. Seit 1860 lebte er auf seinem Landsitz Gad's Hill Place in Kent, wo er im Alter von nur 58 Jahren an einem Schlaganfall starb.
