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eBook 1780년 폭동 이야기 / Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of Eighty (영문판, 삽화 포함)
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소개

목차

표지
목차
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter the Last
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(참고) 분량: 약 129 만자

저자 소개

찰스 디킨스(Charles Dickens, 1812~1870)는 빅토리아 시대 영국을 대표하는 세계적인 소설가입니다. '올리버 트위스트', '데이비드 코퍼필드', '위대한 유산', '두 도시 이야기' 등 수많은 걸작을 남겼으며, 가난과 노동, 교육, 계층 불평등 같은 사회 문제를 개성 넘치는 인물과 극적인 이야기 속에 담아냈습니다. 유머와 풍자, 따뜻한 인간애를 결합한 그의 작품은 당대 사회를 비판적으로 조명하는 동시에 오늘날까지도 폭넓은 사랑을 받고 있습니다. '1780년 폭동 이야기'는 역사적 사건을 바탕으로 디킨스의 사회적 통찰과 극적인 서사 감각을 보여주는 중요한 작품입니다.

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2026년 08월 28일
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ISBN13
9791139836547

출판사 리뷰

<미리 보기>
‘A strange story!’ said the man who had been the cause of the narration.?‘Stranger still if it comes about as you predict. Is that all?’
A question so unexpected, nettled Solomon Daisy not a little. By dint of relating the story very often, and ornamenting it (according to village report) with a few flourishes suggested by the various hearers from time to time, he had come by degrees to tell it with great effect; and ‘Is that all?’ after the climax, was not what he was accustomed to.
‘Is that all?’ he repeated, ‘yes, that’s all, sir. And enough too, I think.’
‘I think so too. My horse, young man! He is but a hack hired from a roadside posting house, but he must carry me to London to-night.’
‘To-night!’ said Joe.
‘To-night,’ returned the other. ‘What do you stare at? This tavern would seem to be a house of call for all the gaping idlers of the neighbourhood!’
At this remark, which evidently had reference to the scrutiny he had undergone, as mentioned in the foregoing chapter, the eyes of John Willet and his friends were diverted with marvellous rapidity to the copper boiler again. Not so with Joe, who, being a mettlesome fellow, returned the stranger’s angry glance with a steady look, and rejoined:
‘It is not a very bold thing to wonder at your going on to-night. Surely you have been asked such a harmless question in an inn before, and in better weather than this. I thought you mightn’t know the way, as you seem strange to this part.’
‘The way?’ repeated the other, irritably.
‘Yes. DO you know it?’
‘I’ll?humph!?I’ll find it,’ replied the man, waving his hand and turning on his heel. ‘Landlord, take the reckoning here.’
John Willet did as he was desired; for on that point he was seldom slow, except in the particulars of giving change, and testing the goodness of any piece of coin that was proffered to him, by the application of his teeth or his tongue, or some other test, or in doubtful cases, by a long series of tests terminating in its rejection. The guest then wrapped his garments about him so as to shelter himself as effectually as he could from the rough weather, and without any word or sign of farewell betook himself to the stableyard. Here Joe (who had left the room on the conclusion of their short dialogue) was protecting himself and the horse from the rain under the shelter of an old penthouse roof.
‘He’s pretty much of my opinion,’ said Joe, patting the horse upon the neck. ‘I’ll wager that your stopping here to-night would please him better than it would please me.’
‘He and I are of different opinions, as we have been more than once on our way here,’ was the short reply.
‘So I was thinking before you came out, for he has felt your spurs, poor beast.’
The stranger adjusted his coat-collar about his face, and made no answer.
‘You’ll know me again, I see,’ he said, marking the young fellow’s earnest gaze, when he had sprung into the saddle.
‘The man’s worth knowing, master, who travels a road he don’t know, mounted on a jaded horse, and leaves good quarters to do it on such a night as this.’
‘You have sharp eyes and a sharp tongue, I find.’
‘Both I hope by nature, but the last grows rusty sometimes for want of using.’
‘Use the first less too, and keep their sharpness for your sweethearts, boy,’ said the man.
So saying he shook his hand from the bridle, struck him roughly on the head with the butt end of his whip, and galloped away; dashing through the mud and darkness with a headlong speed, which few badly mounted horsemen would have cared to venture, even had they been thoroughly acquainted with the country; and which, to one who knew nothing of the way he rode, was attended at every step with great hazard and danger.
The roads, even within twelve miles of London, were at that time ill paved, seldom repaired, and very badly made. The way this rider traversed had been ploughed up by the wheels of heavy waggons, and rendered rotten by the frosts and thaws of the preceding winter, or possibly of many winters. Great holes and gaps had been worn into the soil, which, being now filled with water from the late rains, were not easily distinguishable even by day; and a plunge into any one of them might have brought down a surer-footed horse than the poor beast now urged forward to the utmost extent of his powers. Sharp flints and stones rolled from under his hoofs continually; the rider could scarcely see beyond the animal’s head, or farther on either side than his own arm would have extended. At that time, too, all the roads in the neighbourhood of the metropolis were infested by footpads or highwaymen, and it was a night, of all others, in which any evil-disposed person of this class might have pursued his unlawful calling with little fear of detection.

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