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和書＞小説・ノンフィクション＞文芸＞海外文学：英語版原書

	A Christmas Carol
		著： Dickens
		発行：グーテンベルク21
	価格／315円（税込）
	形式／⇒詳細

著者プロフィール

　チャールズ・ディケンズ（１８１２～１８７０）
　英国サセックスに生まれる。幼い頃から本好きで向学心の強い少年だったが、家計を助けるために学校をやめ、弁護士事務所の使い走りをする。
　仕事のかたわら速記などの勉強を続け、通信記者を経て２２歳に雑誌「モーニング・クロニクル」に短編を連載。「オリヴァ・トゥイスト」「骨董店」などの代表作はイギリス大衆、ことに下層社会にまで広く読まれ、シェイクスピアと並ぶ文豪と絶賛される。
　絶筆「エドゥイン・ドルード」を未完のまま急逝したことはあまりにも有名である。

解説

　ディケンズ『クリスマス・カロル』の英語版原書。
　クリスマスの前夜、守銭奴で強欲な商人スクルージの前にあらわれた三人の「幽霊」たちはスクルージをしんみりとさせ、心ゆくまで楽しませ、はては恐怖のどん底に突き落とす……。長いあいだ親しまれてきたディケンズの名作！

　本書はすべて英文です。日本語訳をご希望の方は、『クリスマス・カロル』（安藤一郎訳）をご購入ください。

Stave 1: Marley's Ghost
Stave 2: The First of the Three Spirits
Stave 3: The Second of the Three Spirits
Stave 4: The Last of the Spirits
Stave 5: The End of It

抄録

arley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubtwhatever about that. The register of his burial wassigned by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker,and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. AndScrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to.
Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of myown knowledge, what there is particularly dead abouta door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, toregard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed handsshall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. Youwill therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, thatMarley was as dead as a door-nail.
Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did.How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he werepartners for I don't know how many years. Scroogewas his sole executor, his sole administrator, his soleassign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, andsole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral,and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back tothe point I started from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, ornothing wonderful can come of the story I am goingto relate. If we were not perfectly convinced thatHamlet's Father died before the play began, therewould be nothing more remarkable in his taking astroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-agedgentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezyspot -- say Saint Paul's Churchyard for instance -- literally to astonish his son's weak mind.

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