The
opening paragraphs of David Copperfield (1849-50):
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 day 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 verifed 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 seagoing 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 Consequently the advertisement was withdrawn at a dead loss-for as to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 in
Blunderstone, in Suffolk, or "thereby," 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 gravestone 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. [emphasis
added]