The Final Recollections of Charles Dickens

Cover The Final Recollections of Charles Dickens
My skin has gone from smooth to wrinkled, my hair from brown to gray. There is a weakness on my left side, and I am insecure in my gait. One foot or the other is always lame. The numbness in my hands comes and goes, as does the fluttering of my heart.
It is the year of Our Lord one thousand eight hundred and seventy. I am in my fifty-ninth year and fear that I am ready for the final bed.
I am Dickens. I have been acclaimed as the most important literary figure of my time. My books have enjoyed
...immense popularity and are welcome in every home. People of all classes take me by the hand and thank me for the pleasure that my writing has given them. I have been celebrated and accorded recognition seldom given to any man until his tomb becomes his throne.
Common men and women see themselves in my writing. My creations have been objected to on the high moral ground that some of the characters of my mind—thieves, embezzlers, prostitutes—have been chosen from the most criminal and degraded of London’s population.
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