STAVEONE.
MARLEY’SGHOST.
Marleywasdead:
tobeginwith.
Thereisnodoubtwhateveraboutthat.
Theregisterofhisburialwassignedbytheclergyman,theclerk,theundertaker,andthechiefmourner.
Scroogesignedit:
andScrooge’snamewasgoodupon’Change,foranythinghechosetoputhishandto.
OldMarleywasasdeadasadoor-nail.
Mind!
Idon’tmeantosaythatIknow,ofmyown
conhecimento
knowledge,whatthereisparticularlydeadaboutadoor-nail.Imighthavebeeninclined,myself,toregardacoffin-nailasthedeadestpieceofironmongeryinthe
comércio
trade.Butthewisdomofourancestorsisinthesimile;
andmyunhallowedhandsshallnotdisturbit,ortheCountry’sdonefor.
Youwill
portanto
thereforepermitmetorepeat,emphatically,thatMarleywasasdeadasadoor-nail.Scroogeknewhewasdead?
Ofcoursehedid.
Howcoulditbeotherwise?
ScroogeandhewerepartnersforIdon’tknowhowmanyyears.
Scroogewashissoleexecutor,hissoleadministrator,hissoleassign,hissoleresiduarylegatee,hissolefriend,andsolemourner.
AndevenScroogewasnotsodreadfullycutupbythesad
evento
event,butthathewasanexcellentmanofbusinessontheverydayofthefuneral
funeral,andsolemniseditwithanundoubtedbargain.ThementionofMarley’s
funeral
funeralbringsmebacktothepointIstartedfrom.ThereisnodoubtthatMarleywasdead.
Thismustbedistinctlyunderstood,ornothingwonderfulcancomeofthestoryIamgoingtorelate.
Ifwewerenot
perfeitamente
perfectlyconvincedthatHamlet’sFatherdiedbeforetheplaybegan,therewouldbenothingmoreremarkableinhistakingastrollatnight,inaneasterlywind,uponhisownramparts,thantherewouldbeinanyothermiddle-agedcavalheiro
gentlemanrashlyturningoutafterdarkinabreezyspot—saySaintPaul’sChurchyardforinstance—literallytoastonishhisson’sfraca
weakmind.ScroogeneverpaintedoutOldMarley’sname.
Thereitstood,years
depois
afterwards,abovethewarehousedoor:ScroogeandMarley.
The
empresa
firmwasknownasScroogeandMarley.SometimespeoplenewtothebusinesscalledScroogeScrooge,andsometimesMarley,butheansweredtobothnames.
Itwasallthesametohim.
Oh!
Buthewasatight-fistedhandatthegrindstone,Scrooge!
asqueezing,wrenching,grasping,scraping,clutching,covetous,oldsinner!
Hardand
afiado
sharpasflint,fromwhichnoaço
steelhadeverstruckoutgenerousfire;secret,andself-contained,andsolitaryasanoyster.
Thecoldwithinhim
congelou
frozehisoldfeatures,nippedhispointednose,shrivelledhischeek,stiffenedhisgait;madehiseyesred,histhinlipsblue;
andspokeoutshrewdlyinhisgratingvoice.
Afrostyrimewasonhishead,andonhiseyebrows,andhiswirychin.
Hecarriedhisownlowtemperaturealwaysaboutwithhim;
heicedhisofficeinthedog-days;
anddidn’tthawitone
grau
degreeatChristmas.ExternalheatandcoldhadlittleinfluenceonScrooge.
Nowarmthcouldwarm,nowintry
tempo
weatherchillhim.Nowindthatblewwasbittererthanhe,nofalling
neve
snowwasmoreintentuponitspropósito
purpose,nopeltingrainlessopentoentreaty.Foul
tempo
weatherdidn’tknowwheretohavehim.Theheaviestrain,and
neve
snow,andhail,andsleet,couldboastofthevantagem
advantageoverhiminonlyonerespect.Theyoften“camedown”handsomely,andScroogeneverdid.
Nobodyeverstoppedhiminthestreettosay,withgladsomelooks,“MydearScrooge,howareyou?
Whenwillyoucometoseeme?”
Nobeggarsimploredhimtobestowatrifle,nochildrenaskedhimwhatitwaso’clock,nomanorwomaneveronceinallhislifeinquiredthewaytosuchandsuchaplace,ofScrooge.
Eventheblindmen’sdogs
pareciam
appearedtoknowhim;andwhentheysawhimcomingon,wouldtugtheirownersintodoorwaysandupcourts;
andthenwouldwagtheirtailsasthoughtheysaid,“Noeyeatallisbetterthananevileye,darkmaster!”
ButwhatdidScroogecare!
Itwastheverythingheliked.
Toedgehiswayalongthecrowdedpathsoflife,warningallhumansympathytokeepits
distância
distance,waswhattheknowingonescall“nuts”toScrooge.Onceuponatime—ofallthegooddaysintheyear,onChristmasEve—oldScroogesatbusyinhiscounting-house.
Itwascold,bleak,biting
tempo
weather:foggywithal:
andhecouldhearthepeopleinthecourtoutside,gowheezingupanddown,beatingtheirhandsupontheirbreasts,andstampingtheirfeetuponthepavementstonestowarmthem.
Thecityclockshadonlyjustgonethree,butitwasquitedarkalready—ithadnotbeenlightallday—andcandleswereflaringinthewindowsoftheneighbouringoffices,likeruddysmearsuponthepalpable
castanho
brownair.Thefogcamepouringinateverychinkandkeyhole,andwassodensewithout,that
embora
althoughthecourtwasofthenarrowest,thehousesem frente
oppositeweremerephantoms.Toseethedingycloudcomedroopingdown,obscuringeverything,onemighthavethoughtthatNaturelivedhardby,andwasbrewingonalargescale.
ThedoorofScrooge’scounting-housewasopenthathemightkeephiseyeuponhisclerk,whoinadismallittlecell
além
beyond,asortoftank,wascopiando
copyingletters.Scroogehadaverysmallfire,buttheclerk’sfirewassoverymuchsmallerthatitlookedlikeonecoal.
Buthecouldn’treplenishit,forScroogekeptthecoal-boxinhisownroom;
andsosurelyastheclerkcameinwiththeshovel,themasterpredictedthatitwouldbenecessaryforthemtopart.
Whereforetheclerkputonhiswhitecomforter,andtriedtowarmhimselfatthecandle;
inwhich
esforço
effort,notbeingamanofastrongimaginação
imagination,hefailed.“AmerryChristmas,uncle!
Godsaveyou!”
criedacheerfulvoice.
ItwasthevoiceofScrooge’s
sobrinho
nephew,whocameuponhimsoquicklythatthiswasthefirstintimationhehadofhisaproximação
approach.“Bah!”
saidScrooge,“Humbug!”
Hehadso
aquecido
heatedhimselfwithrapidwalkinginthefogandfrost,thissobrinho
nephewofScrooge’s,thathewasallinaglow;hisfacewasruddyand
bonito
handsome;hiseyessparkled,andhis
respiração
breathsmokedagain.“Christmasahumbug,uncle!”
saidScrooge’s
sobrinho
nephew.“Youdon’tmeanthat,Iamsure?”
“Ido,”saidScrooge.
“MerryChristmas!
Whatrighthaveyoutobe
alegre
merry?Whatreasonhaveyoutobe
alegre
merry?You’repoorenough.”
“Come,then,”returnedthe
sobrinho
nephewgaily.“Whatrighthaveyoutobedismal?
Whatreasonhaveyoutobemorose?
You’rerichenough.”
Scroogehavingnobetteranswerreadyonthespurofthemoment,said,“Bah!”
again;
andfolloweditupwith“Humbug.”
“Don’tbecross,uncle!”
saidthe
sobrinho
nephew.“WhatelsecanIbe,”returnedtheuncle,“whenIliveinsuchaworldoffoolsasthis?
Feliz
MerryChristmas!OutuponmerryChristmas!
What’sChristmastimetoyoubutatimeforpayingbillswithoutmoney;
atimeforfindingyourselfayearolder,butnotanhourricher;
atimefor
equilibrar
balancingyourbooksandhavingeveryitemin’emthrougharounddozenofmonthspresenteddeadagainstyou?IfIcouldworkmywill,”saidScroogeindignantly,“everyidiotwhogoesaboutwith‘MerryChristmas’onhislips,shouldbeboiledwithhisownpudding,and
enterrado
buriedwithastakeofhollythroughhisheart.Heshould!”
“Uncle!”
pleadedthe
sobrinho
nephew.“Nephew!”
returnedtheunclesternly,“keepChristmasinyourownway,andletmekeepitinmine.”
“Keepit!”
repetiu
repeatedScrooge’snephew.“Butyoudon’tkeepit.”
“Letmeleaveitalone,then,”saidScrooge.
“Muchgoodmayitdoyou!
Muchgoodithaseverdoneyou!”
“TherearemanythingsfromwhichImighthavederivedgood,bywhichIhavenotprofited,Idaresay,”returnedthe
sobrinho
nephew.“Christmasamongtherest.
ButIamsureIhavealwaysthoughtofChristmastime,whenithascomeround—apartfromtheveneration
devido
duetoitssacrednameandorigin,ifanythingbelongingtoitcanbeapartfromthat—asagoodtime;akind,forgiving,charitable,pleasanttime;
theonlytimeIknowof,inthelongcalendaroftheyear,whenmenandwomenseembyoneconsenttoopentheirshut-upheartsfreely,andtothinkofpeople
abaixo
belowthemasiftheyreallywerefellow-passengerstothegrave,andnotanotherraceofcreaturesboundonotherjourneys.And
portanto
therefore,uncle,thoughithasneverputascrapofgoldorprata
silverinmypocket,Ibelievethatithasdonemegood,andwilldomegood;andIsay,God
abençoe
blessit!”Theclerkinthe
Tanque
Tankinvoluntarilyapplauded.Becomingimmediatelysensibleoftheimpropriety,hepokedthefire,andextinguishedthelastfrailsparkforever.
“Letmehearanothersoundfromyou,”saidScrooge,“andyou’llkeepyourChristmasbylosingyoursituation!
You’requitea
poderoso
powerfulspeaker,sir,”headded,turningtohissobrinho
nephew.“Iwonderyoudon’tgointoParliament.”
“Don’tbeangry,uncle.
Come!
Dinewithusto-morrow.”
Scroogesaidthathewouldseehim—yes,
facto
indeedhedid.Hewentthewholelengthoftheexpression,andsaidthathewouldseehiminthatextremityfirst.
“Butwhy?”
criedScrooge’s
sobrinho
nephew.“Why?”
“Whydidyougetmarried?”
saidScrooge.
“BecauseIfellinlove.”
“Becauseyoufellinlove!”
growledScrooge,asifthatweretheonlyonethingintheworldmoreridiculousthana
feliz
merryChristmas.“Goodafternoon!”
“Nay,uncle,butyounevercametoseemebeforethathappened.
Whygiveitasareasonfornotcomingnow?”
“Goodafternoon,”saidScrooge.
“Iwantnothingfromyou;
Iasknothingofyou;
whycannotwebefriends?”
“Goodafternoon,”saidScrooge.
“Iamsorry,withallmyheart,tofindyousoresolute.
Wehaveneverhadanyquarrel,towhichIhavebeenaparty.
ButIhavemadethe
julgamento
trialinhomagetoChristmas,andI’llkeepmyChristmashumourtothelast.SoA
Feliz
MerryChristmas,uncle!”“Goodafternoon!”
saidScrooge.
“AndAHappyNewYear!”
“Goodafternoon!”
saidScrooge.
His
sobrinho
nephewlefttheroomwithoutanangryword,notwithstanding.Hestoppedattheouterdoortobestowthegreetingsofthe
estação
seasonontheclerk,who,coldashewas,waswarmerthanScrooge;forhereturnedthemcordially.
“There’sanotherfellow,”mutteredScrooge;
whooverheardhim:
“myclerk,withfifteenshillingsaweek,andawifeandfamily,talkingabouta
feliz
merryChristmas.I’llretiretoBedlam.”
Thislunatic,inlettingScrooge’s
sobrinho
nephewout,hadlettwootherpeoplein.Theywereportlygentlemen,pleasanttobehold,andnowstood,withtheirhatsoff,inScrooge’soffice.Theyhadbooksandpapersintheirhands,andbowedtohim.
“ScroogeandMarley’s,Ibelieve,”saidoneofthegentlemen,referringtohislist.
“HaveIthepleasureofaddressingMr.Scrooge,orMr.Marley?”
“Mr.
Marleyhasbeendeadthesesevenyears,”Scroogereplied.
“Hediedsevenyearsago,thisverynight.”
“Wehavenodoubthisliberalityiswellrepresentedbyhissurvivingpartner,”saidthe
cavalheiro
gentleman,presentinghiscredentials.Itcertainlywas;
fortheyhadbeentwokindredspirits.
Attheominousword“liberality,”Scroogefrowned,andshookhishead,andhandedthecredentialsback.
“Atthisfestive
época
seasonoftheyear,Mr.Scrooge,”saidthecavalheiro
gentleman,takingupapen,“itismorethanusuallydesirablethatweshouldmakesomeslightprovisionforthePooranddestitute,whosofrem
suffergreatlyatthepresenttime.Manythousandsareinwantofcommonnecessaries;
hundredsofthousandsareinwantof
comuns
commoncomforts,sir.”“Aretherenoprisons?”
askedScrooge.
“Plentyofprisons,”saidthe
cavalheiro
gentleman,layingdownthepenagain.“AndtheUnionworkhouses?”
demandedScrooge.
“Aretheystillinoperation?”
“Theyare.
Still,”returnedthe
cavalheiro
gentleman,“IwishIcouldsaytheywerenot.”“TheTreadmillandthePoorLawareinfullvigour,then?”
saidScrooge.
“Bothverybusy,sir.”
“Oh!
Iwasafraid,fromwhatyousaidatfirst,thatsomethinghadoccurredtostopthemintheir
útil
usefulcourse,”saidScrooge.“I’mverygladtohearit.”
“UndertheimpressionthattheyscarcelyfurnishChristiancheerofmindorbodytothemultitude,”returnedthe
cavalheiro
gentleman,“afewofusareendeavouringtoraiseafundtobuythePoorsomemeatanddrink,andmeansofwarmth.Wechoosethistime,becauseitisatime,ofallothers,whenWantiskeenlyfelt,andAbundancerejoices.
WhatshallIputyoudownfor?”
“Nothing!”
Scroogereplied.
“Youwishtobeanonymous?”
“Iwishtobeleftalone,”saidScrooge.
“SinceyouaskmewhatIwish,gentlemen,thatismyanswer.