STAVEONE.
MARLEY’SGHOST.
Marleywas
morto
dead:tobeginwith.
Thereis
não
nodoubtwhateveraboutthat.O
Theregisterofhisburialwasassinado
signedbytheclergyman,theclerk,o
theundertaker,andthechiefmourner.Scrooge
assinou
signedit:andScrooge’snamewas
bom
goodupon’Change,foranythinghechosetopôr
puthishandto.OldMarleywasas
morto
deadasadoor-nail.Mind!
Idon’tmeantosaythatI
saiba
know,ofmyownknowledge,whatthereisparticularlymorto
deadaboutadoor-nail.I
poderia
mighthavebeeninclined,myself,toregardum
acoffin-nailasthedeadestpieceofironmongeryinthetrade.Mas
Butthewisdomofourancestorsisina
thesimile;andmyunhallowedhandsshallnotdisturbit,
ou
ortheCountry’sdonefor.Youwillthereforepermitmetorepeat,emphatically,
que
thatMarleywasasdeadasum
adoor-nail.Scroogeknewhewas
morto
dead?Ofcoursehedid.
Como
Howcoulditbeotherwise?Scrooge
e
andhewerepartnersforIdon’tsei
knowhowmanyyears.Scroogewashissoleexecutor,hissoleadministrator,hissoleassign,hissoleresiduarylegatee,hissole
amigo
friend,andsolemourner.And
mesmo
evenScroogewasnotsodreadfullycortado
cutupbythesadevent,mas
butthathewasanexcellenthomem
manofbusinessontheverydia
dayofthefuneral,andsolemniseditcom
withanundoubtedbargain.ThementionofMarley’sfuneral
traz
bringsmebacktotheponto
pointIstartedfrom.Thereis
não
nodoubtthatMarleywasmorto
dead.Thismustbedistinctly
compreendido
understood,ornothingwonderfulcancomeofthehistória
storyIamgoingtorelate.Se
IfwewerenotperfectlyconvincedthatHamlet’sPai
Fatherdiedbeforetheplaybegan,thereia
wouldbenothingmoreremarkableinhistakingastrollatnight,inaneasterlywind,uponhisownramparts,thanthereia
wouldbeinanyothermiddle-agedgentlemanrashlyturningoutdepois
afterdarkinabreezyspot—saySaintPaul’sChurchyardforinstance—literallytoastonishhisson’sweakmente
mind.Scroogeneverpaintedout
Velho
OldMarley’sname.Thereitstood,yearsafterwards,abovethewarehouse
porta
door:ScroogeandMarley.
ThefirmwasknownasScrooge
e
andMarley.Sometimespeoplenewtothe
negócio
businesscalledScroogeScrooge,andàs vezes
sometimesMarley,butheansweredtoambos
bothnames.Itwasall
o
thesametohim.Oh!
Mas
Buthewasatight-fistedmão
handatthegrindstone,Scrooge!um
asqueezing,wrenching,grasping,scraping,clutching,covetous,velho
oldsinner!Hardandsharpasflint,from
qual
whichnosteelhadeverstruckoutgenerousfogo
fire;secret,andself-contained,andsolitaryas
uma
anoyster.Thecoldwithinhimfrozehisoldfeatures,nippedhispointednose,shrivelledhischeek,stiffenedhisgait;
fez
madehiseyesred,histhinlipsblue;e
andspokeoutshrewdlyinhisgratingvoice.Uma
Afrostyrimewasonhiscabeça
head,andonhiseyebrows,e
andhiswirychin.Hecarriedhisownlowtemperature
sempre
alwaysaboutwithhim;heicedhis
escritório
officeinthedog-days;anddidn’tthawit
um
onedegreeatChristmas.Externalheat
e
andcoldhadlittleinfluenceonScrooge.Nenhum
Nowarmthcouldwarm,nowintryweatherchillhim.Nenhum
Nowindthatblewwasbittererthanele
he,nofallingsnowwasmais
moreintentuponitspurpose,nenhum
nopeltingrainlessopentoentreaty.Foulweatherdidn’t
sabia
knowwheretohavehim.Theheaviestrain,
e
andsnow,andhail,andsleet,podiam
couldboastoftheadvantagesobre
overhiminonlyonerespect.Theyoften“camedown”handsomely,
e
andScroogeneverdid.Nobodyever
parou
stoppedhiminthestreettodizer
say,withgladsomelooks,“Myquerido
dearScrooge,howareyou?Quando
Whenwillyoucometover
seeme?”Nobeggarsimploredhimtobestow
uma
atrifle,nochildrenaskedhimwhatitwaso’clock,nenhum
nomanorwomaneveronceintoda
allhislifeinquiredthecaminho
waytosuchandsuchuma
aplace,ofScrooge.Even
os
theblindmen’sdogsappearedtoknowhim;e
andwhentheysawhimcomingon,wouldtugtheirownersintodoorwayse
andupcourts;andthenwouldwagtheirtailsasthoughthey
dissessem
said,“Noeyeatallismelhor
betterthananevileye,darkmaster!”Mas
ButwhatdidScroogecare!Itwas
a
theverythingheliked.Toedgehis
caminho
wayalongthecrowdedpathsofvida
life,warningallhumansympathytomanter
keepitsdistance,waswhattheknowingoneschamam
call“nuts”toScrooge.Onceupon
uma
atime—ofallthegooddaysintheano
year,onChristmasEve—oldScroogesatbusyinhiscounting-house.Itwas
frio
cold,bleak,bitingweather:foggywithal:
e
andhecouldhearthepovo
peopleinthecourtoutside,gowheezingcima
upanddown,beatingtheirhandsupontheirbreasts,e
andstampingtheirfeetuponthepavementstonestowarmlos
them.Thecityclockshadonlyjustgone
três
three,butitwasquitedarkalready—ithadnotbeenluz
lightallday—andcandleswereflaringinthewindowsoftheneighbouringoffices,como
likeruddysmearsuponthepalpablebrownar
air.Thefogcamepouringinat
todas as
everychinkandkeyhole,andwassodensewithout,que
thatalthoughthecourtwasofthenarrowest,thehousesoppositeweremerephantoms.To
ver
seethedingycloudcomedroopingdescer
down,obscuringeverything,onemightter
havethoughtthatNaturelivedduro
hardby,andwasbrewingonalargescale.The
porta
doorofScrooge’scounting-housewasopenthathepudesse
mightkeephiseyeuponhisclerk,whoinuma
adismallittlecellbeyond,uma
asortoftank,wascopyingletters.Scrooge
tinha
hadaverysmallfire,mas
buttheclerk’sfirewassoverymuchsmallerthatitlookedlikeonecoal.Mas
Buthecouldn’treplenishit,forScroogemanteve
keptthecoal-boxinhispróprio
ownroom;andsosurelyastheclerkcamein
com
withtheshovel,themasterpredictedthatitwouldbenecessaryforthemtoseparassem
part.Whereforetheclerkputonhis
branco
whitecomforter,andtriedtowarmhimselfato
thecandle;inwhicheffort,notbeinga
homem
manofastrongimagination,hefailed.“AmerryChristmas,
tio
uncle!Godsaveyou!”
cried
uma
acheerfulvoice.Itwas
a
thevoiceofScrooge’snephew,whoveio
cameuponhimsoquicklythatesta
thiswasthefirstintimationheteve
hadofhisapproach.“Bah!”
disse
saidScrooge,“Humbug!”Hehadsoheatedhimself
com
withrapidwalkinginthefoge
andfrost,thisnephewofScrooge’s,que
thathewasallinum
aglow;hisfacewasruddy
e
andhandsome;hiseyessparkled,
e
andhisbreathsmokedagain.“Christmas
uma
ahumbug,uncle!”saidScrooge’snephew.
“Youdon’tmeanthat,Iamsure?”
“Ido,”
disse
saidScrooge.“MerryChristmas!
What
direito
righthaveyoutobemerry?What
razão
reasonhaveyoutobemerry?You’re
pobre
poorenough.”“Come,then,”returned
o
thenephewgaily.“Whatright
tens
haveyoutobedismal?What
razão
reasonhaveyoutobemorose?You’rerichenough.”
Scrooge
tendo
havingnobetteranswerreadyonthespurofthemomento
moment,said,“Bah!”again;
and
seguiu
followeditupwith“Humbug.”“Don’tbecross,uncle!”
disse
saidthenephew.“Whatelse
posso
canIbe,”returnedthetio
uncle,“whenIliveinsuchamundo
worldoffoolsasthis?MerryChristmas!
Fora
OutuponmerryChristmas!What’sChristmas
tempo
timetoyoubutatempo
timeforpayingbillswithoutdinheiro
money;atimeforfindingyourselfa
ano
yearolder,butnotanhourricher;a
tempo
timeforbalancingyourbookse
andhavingeveryitemin’ematravés
througharounddozenofmonthspresenteddeadcontra
againstyou?IfIcouldworkmywill,”
disse
saidScroogeindignantly,“everyidiotque
whogoesaboutwith‘MerryChristmas’onhislips,deveria
shouldbeboiledwithhispróprio
ownpudding,andburiedwithuma
astakeofhollythroughhisheart.Heshould!”
“Uncle!”
pleaded
o
thenephew.“Nephew!”
returnedthe
tio
unclesternly,“keepChristmasinyourownmaneira
way,andletmekeepitinmine.”“Keepit!”
repeatedScrooge’snephew.
“Butyoudon’t
mantém
keepit.”“Letmeleaveitalone,then,”
disse
saidScrooge.“Muchgoodmayit
faça
doyou!Muchgoodithasever
fez
doneyou!”“TherearemanythingsfromwhichI
poderia
mighthavederivedgood,bywhichIter
havenotprofited,Idaresay,”returnedo
thenephew.“Christmasamongtherest.
Mas
ButIamsureItenho
havealwaysthoughtofChristmastempo
time,whenithascomeround—apartfromthevenerationduetoitssacrednome
nameandorigin,ifanythingbelongingtoitpode
canbeapartfromthat—asum
agoodtime;akind,forgiving,charitable,pleasant
tempo
time;theonlytimeI
conheço
knowof,inthelongcalendaroftheano
year,whenmenandwomenseembyoneconsenttoabrir
opentheirshut-upheartsfreely,e
andtothinkofpeoplebelowthemasse
iftheyreallywerefellow-passengerstothegrave,e
andnotanotherraceofcreaturesboundonoutras
otherjourneys.Andtherefore,uncle,
embora
thoughithasneverputum
ascrapofgoldorsilverinmypocket,Iacredito
believethatithasdonemebem
good,andwilldomebem
good;andIsay,Godblessit!”
O
TheclerkintheTankinvoluntarilyapplauded.Tornando
Becomingimmediatelysensibleoftheimpropriety,hepokedthefogo
fire,andextinguishedthelastfrailsparkforever.“Letme
ouvir
hearanothersoundfromyou,”disse
saidScrooge,“andyou’llkeepyourChristmasbyperdendo
losingyoursituation!You’requite
um
apowerfulspeaker,sir,”headded,turningtohisnephew.“Iwonderyoudon’tgointoParliament.”
“Don’tbeangry,
tio
uncle.Come!
Dinewithusto-morrow.”
Scrooge
disse
saidthathewouldseehim—yes,indeedhedid.Hewent
o
thewholelengthoftheexpression,e
andsaidthathewouldvê
seehiminthatextremityprimeiro
first.“Butwhy?”
criedScrooge’snephew.
“Why?”
“Whydidyougetmarried?”
disse
saidScrooge.“BecauseIfellinlove.”
“Becauseyoufellinlove!”
growledScrooge,as
se
ifthatweretheonlyonecoisa
thingintheworldmoreridiculousthanamerryChristmas.“Goodafternoon!”
“Nay,
tio
uncle,butyounevercametover
seemebeforethathappened.Why
dar
giveitasareasonfornotvir
comingnow?”“Goodafternoon,”saidScrooge.
“I
quero
wantnothingfromyou;I
peço
asknothingofyou;whycannotwebefriends?”
“Goodafternoon,”
disse
saidScrooge.“Iamsorry,with
todo
allmyheart,tofindyousoresolute.Wehave
nunca
neverhadanyquarrel,toqual
whichIhavebeenaparty.Mas
ButIhavemadethetrialinhomagetoChristmas,e
andI’llkeepmyChristmashumourtoo
thelast.SoAMerryChristmas,uncle!”
“Goodafternoon!”
disse
saidScrooge.“AndAHappyNewYear!”
“Goodafternoon!”
disse
saidScrooge.Hisnephewleft
a
theroomwithoutanangrypalavra
word,notwithstanding.Hestoppedat
as
theouterdoortobestowas
thegreetingsoftheseasononas
theclerk,who,coldashewas,waswarmerthanScrooge;forhe
devolveu
returnedthemcordially.“There’sanotherfellow,”mutteredScrooge;
que
whooverheardhim:“myclerk,
com
withfifteenshillingsaweek,e
andawifeandfamily,falar
talkingaboutamerryChristmas.I’llretiretoBedlam.”
Este
Thislunatic,inlettingScrooge’snephewout,tinha
hadlettwootherpeopleno
in.Theywereportlygentlemen,pleasanttobehold,e
andnowstood,withtheirhatsoff,inScrooge’sescritório
office.Theyhadbooksandpapersintheirhands,
e
andbowedtohim.“Scrooge
e
andMarley’s,Ibelieve,”saidum
oneofthegentlemen,referringtohislist.“HaveI
o
thepleasureofaddressingMr.Scrooge,ou
orMr.Marley?”“Mr.
Marleyhasbeen
morto
deadthesesevenyears,”Scroogereplied.“He
morreu
diedsevenyearsago,thisverynight.”“We
temos
havenodoubthisliberalityisbem
wellrepresentedbyhissurvivingpartner,”disse
saidthegentleman,presentinghiscredentials.Itcertainlywas;
forthey
tinham
hadbeentwokindredspirits.Attheominous
palavra
word“liberality,”Scroogefrowned,andshookhiscabeça
head,andhandedthecredentialsback.“Atthisfestiveseasonofthe
ano
year,Mr.Scrooge,”saidthegentleman,takingupuma
apen,“itismorethanusuallydesirablethatweshouldfaçamos
makesomeslightprovisionforthePoore
anddestitute,whosuffergreatlyatthepresentmomento
time.Manythousandsareinwantofcommonnecessaries;
hundredsofthousandsareinwantofcommoncomforts,sir.”
“Arethere
não
noprisons?”askedScrooge.
“Plentyofprisons,”
disse
saidthegentleman,layingdownthepennovo
again.“AndtheUnionworkhouses?”
demandedScrooge.
“Arethey
ainda
stillinoperation?”“Theyare.
Still,”returned
o
thegentleman,“IwishIpoder
couldsaytheywerenot.”“TheTreadmill
e
andthePoorLawareinfullvigour,then?”disse
saidScrooge.“Bothverybusy,sir.”
“Oh!
Iwasafraid,fromwhatyou
disse
saidatfirst,thatsomethingtinha
hadoccurredtostopthemintheirusefulcourse,”disse
saidScrooge.“I’mverygladto
ouvir
hearit.”“Undertheimpression
que
thattheyscarcelyfurnishChristiancheerofmente
mindorbodytothemultitude,”returnedthegentleman,“afewofusareendeavouringtoraiseum
afundtobuythePoorsomemeate
anddrink,andmeansofwarmth.Wechoose
este
thistime,becauseitisum
atime,ofallothers,quando
whenWantiskeenlyfelt,e
andAbundancerejoices.WhatshallIputyoudownfor?”
“Nothing!”
Scroogereplied.
“You
deseja
wishtobeanonymous?”“Iwishtobe
deixem
leftalone,”saidScrooge.“Sinceyou
perguntaram
askmewhatIwish,gentlemen,thatismyresposta
answer.