STAVEONE.
MARLEY’SGHOST.
Marleywas
död
dead:tobeginwith.
Thereisnodoubtwhatever
om
aboutthat.Theregisterofhisburialwassignedby
den
theclergyman,theclerk,theundertaker,och
andthechiefmourner.Scroogesigned
det
it:andScrooge’snamewas
bra
goodupon’Change,foranythinghechosetolägga
puthishandto.OldMarleywasas
död
deadasadoor-nail.Mind!
Idon’t
menar
meantosaythatIvet
know,ofmyownknowledge,whatdet
thereisparticularlydeadabouten
adoor-nail.Imighthavebeeninclined,myself,toregard
en
acoffin-nailasthedeadestpieceofironmongeryinden
thetrade.Butthewisdomofourancestorsisinthesimile;
och
andmyunhallowedhandsshallnotdisturbit,eller
ortheCountry’sdonefor.You
kommer
willthereforepermitmetorepeat,emphatically,thatMarleywasasdöd
deadasadoor-nail.Scrooge
visste
knewhewasdead?Ofcoursehe
gjorde
did.Howcoulditbeotherwise?
Scrooge
och
andhewerepartnersforIdon’tvet
knowhowmanyyears.Scroogewashissoleexecutor,hissoleadministrator,hissoleassign,hissoleresiduarylegatee,hissole
vän
friend,andsolemourner.And
även
evenScroogewasnotsodreadfullycutupbythesadevent,men
butthathewasanexcellentmanofbusinessontheverydagen
dayofthefuneral,andsolemniseditmed
withanundoubtedbargain.ThementionofMarley’sfuneral
för
bringsmebacktothepointIstartedfrom.Det
ThereisnodoubtthatMarleywasdöd
dead.Thismustbedistinctlyunderstood,or
inget
nothingwonderfulcancomeofden
thestoryIamgoingtorelate.Om
IfwewerenotperfectlyconvincedthatHamlet’sFar
Fatherdiedbeforetheplaybegan,therewouldbenothingmer
moreremarkableinhistakingastrollatnatten
night,inaneasterlywind,uponhisegna
ownramparts,thantherewouldbeinanyannan
othermiddle-agedgentlemanrashlyturningut
outafterdarkinabreezyspot—saySaintPaul’sChurchyardforinstance—literallytoastonishhisson’sweaksinne
mind.Scroogeneverpaintedout
Gamla
OldMarley’sname.Thereit
stod
stood,yearsafterwards,abovethewarehousedoor:Scrooge
och
andMarley.Thefirmwas
känt
knownasScroogeandMarley.Ibland
Sometimespeoplenewtothebusinesskallade
calledScroogeScrooge,andsometimesMarley,men
butheansweredtobothnames.Itwas
allt
allthesametohim.Oh!
Men
Buthewasatight-fistedhand
handatthegrindstone,Scrooge!en
asqueezing,wrenching,grasping,scraping,clutching,covetous,gammal
oldsinner!Hardandsharpasflint,fromwhichnosteel
hade
hadeverstruckoutgenerouseld
fire;secret,andself-contained,andsolitaryas
en
anoyster.Thecoldwithinhimfrozehis
gamla
oldfeatures,nippedhispointednose,shrivelledhischeek,stiffenedhisgait;gjorde
madehiseyesred,histhinlipsblue;och
andspokeoutshrewdlyinhisgratingvoice.En
Afrostyrimewasonhishuvud
head,andonhiseyebrows,och
andhiswirychin.Hecarriedhis
egen
ownlowtemperaturealwaysaboutmed
withhim;heicedhis
kontor
officeinthedog-days;anddidn’tthawit
en
onedegreeatChristmas.Externalheat
och
andcoldhadlittleinfluenceonScrooge.Ingen
Nowarmthcouldwarm,nowintryweatherchillhonom
him.Nowindthatblewwasbitterer
än
thanhe,nofallingsnowwasmer
moreintentuponitspurpose,ingen
nopeltingrainlessopentoentreaty.Foulweatherdidn’t
visste
knowwheretohavehim.Det
Theheaviestrain,andsnow,och
andhail,andsleet,couldboastofdet
theadvantageoverhiminbara
onlyonerespect.Theyoften“camedown”handsomely,
och
andScroogeneverdid.Nobodyever
stannade
stoppedhiminthestreettosäga
say,withgladsomelooks,“Mykäre
dearScrooge,howareyou?När
Whenwillyoucometoseeme?”Nobeggarsimploredhimtobestow
en
atrifle,nochildrenaskedhimwhatitwaso’clock,noman
manorwomaneveronceinallhisliv
lifeinquiredthewaytosuchandsuchen
aplace,ofScrooge.Even
de
theblindmen’sdogsappearedtokänna
knowhim;andwhenthey
såg
sawhimcomingon,wouldtugtheirownersintodoorwaysoch
andupcourts;andthenwouldwagtheirtailsasthoughthey
sa
said,“Noeyeatallisbättre
betterthananevileye,darkmaster!”Men
ButwhatdidScroogecare!Itwastheverythinghe
gillade
liked.Toedgehisway
längs
alongthecrowdedpathsoflife,warningallhumansympathytohålla
keepitsdistance,waswhatde
theknowingonescall“nuts”toScrooge.Onceupon
en
atime—ofallthegooddaysintheåret
year,onChristmasEve—oldScroogesatbusyinhiscounting-house.Itwas
kallt
cold,bleak,bitingweather:foggywithal:
och
andhecouldhearthepeopleinthecourtutanför
outside,gowheezingupandner
down,beatingtheirhandsupontheirbreasts,och
andstampingtheirfeetuponthepavementstonestowarmdem
them.Thecityclockshadonlyjust
gått
gonethree,butitwasganska
quitedarkalready—ithadnotbeenljus
lightallday—andcandleswereflaringinthewindowsoftheneighbouringoffices,som
likeruddysmearsuponthepalpablebrownair.De
Thefogcamepouringinateverychinkoch
andkeyhole,andwassodensewithout,att
thatalthoughthecourtwasofde
thenarrowest,thehousesoppositeweremerephantoms.To
såg
seethedingycloudcomedroopingner
down,obscuringeverything,onemighthavetro
thoughtthatNaturelivedhardby,och
andwasbrewingonalargescale.The
dörren
doorofScrooge’scounting-housewasöppen
openthathemightkeephiseyeuponhisclerk,whoinadismalliten
littlecellbeyond,asortoftank,wascopyingletters.Scrooge
hade
hadaverysmallfire,men
buttheclerk’sfirewassoverymuchsmallerthatitsåg
lookedlikeonecoal.Buthecouldn’treplenishit,forScrooge
höll
keptthecoal-boxinhiseget
ownroom;andsosurelyastheclerk
kom
cameinwiththeshovel,themasterpredictedthatitkom
wouldbenecessaryforthemtopart.Whereforetheclerk
satte
putonhiswhitecomforter,och
andtriedtowarmhimselfatthecandle;inwhicheffort,notbeing
en
amanofastrongimagination,hefailed.“AmerryChristmas,
farbror
uncle!Godsaveyou!”
cried
en
acheerfulvoice.ItwasthevoiceofScrooge’snephew,who
kom
cameuponhimsoquicklythatdetta
thiswasthefirstintimationhehade
hadofhisapproach.“Bah!”
sa
saidScrooge,“Humbug!”Hehadsoheatedhimself
med
withrapidwalkinginthefogoch
andfrost,thisnephewofScrooge’s,att
thathewasallinen
aglow;hisfacewasruddy
och
andhandsome;hiseyessparkled,
och
andhisbreathsmokedagain.“Christmas
en
ahumbug,uncle!”saidScrooge’snephew.
“Youdon’t
menar
meanthat,Iamsure?”“Ido,”
sa
saidScrooge.“MerryChristmas!
What
rätt
righthaveyoutobemerry?What
anledning
reasonhaveyoutobemerry?You’repoorenough.”
“Come,then,”returnedthenephewgaily.
“What
rätt
righthaveyoutobedismal?What
anledning
reasonhaveyoutobemorose?You’rerichenough.”
Scrooge
hade
havingnobetteranswerreadyonthespurofthemoment,sa
said,“Bah!”again;
andfollowedit
upp
upwith“Humbug.”“Don’tbecross,uncle!”
sa
saidthenephew.“Whatelse
kan
canIbe,”returnedthefarbror
uncle,“whenIliveinsådan
suchaworldoffoolsasdenna
this?MerryChristmas!
OutuponmerryChristmas!
What’sChristmas
tid
timetoyoubutatid
timeforpayingbillswithoutpengar
money;atimeforfindingyourselfa
år
yearolder,butnotantimme
hourricher;atimeforbalancingyourbooks
och
andhavingeveryitemin’emgenom
througharounddozenofmonthspresenteddöd
deadagainstyou?IfI
kunde
couldworkmywill,”saidScroogeindignantly,“everyidiotsom
whogoesaboutwith‘MerryChristmas’onhislips,bör
shouldbeboiledwithhisegen
ownpudding,andburiedwithen
astakeofhollythroughhishjärta
heart.Heshould!”
“Uncle!”
pleadedthenephew.
“Nephew!”
returnedtheunclesternly,“keepChristmasinyour
eget
ownway,andletmehålla
keepitinmine.”“Keepit!”
repeatedScrooge’snephew.
“Butyoudon’t
behåller
keepit.”“Letmeleaveitalone,then,”
sa
saidScrooge.“Muchgoodmayit
göra
doyou!Muchgoodit
har
haseverdoneyou!”“Thereare
många
manythingsfromwhichIkunde
mighthavederivedgood,bywhichIhavenotprofited,Idaresay,”returnedthenephew.“Christmasamong
de
therest.ButIam
säker
sureIhavealwaysthoughtofChristmastid
time,whenithascomeround—apartfromthevenerationduetoitssacrednamn
nameandorigin,ifanythingbelongingtoitkan
canbeapartfromthat—asen
agoodtime;akind,forgiving,charitable,pleasant
tid
time;theonlytimeI
känner
knowof,inthelongcalendaroftheyear,när
whenmenandwomenseembyoneconsenttoöppna
opentheirshut-upheartsfreely,och
andtothinkofpeoplebelowthemasiftheyverkligen
reallywerefellow-passengerstothegrave,och
andnotanotherraceofcreaturesboundonotherjourneys.Och
Andtherefore,uncle,thoughithar
hasneverputascrapofgoldeller
orsilverinmypocket,Itror
believethatithasdonemebra
good,andwilldomebra
good;andIsay,Godblessit!”
TheclerkintheTankinvoluntarilyapplauded.
Blev
Becomingimmediatelysensibleoftheimpropriety,hepokedden
thefire,andextinguishedthesista
lastfrailsparkforever.“Letme
höra
hearanothersoundfromyou,”sa
saidScrooge,“andyou’llkeepyourChristmasbyförlora
losingyoursituation!You’requite
en
apowerfulspeaker,sir,”headded,vände
turningtohisnephew.“Iwonderyoudon’t
går
gointoParliament.”“Don’tbeangry,
farbror
uncle.Come!
Dinewithusto-morrow.”
Scrooge
sa
saidthathewouldseehim—yes,indeedhegjorde
did.Hewentthewholelengthof
den
theexpression,andsaidthathewouldse
seehiminthatextremityförst
first.“Butwhy?”
criedScrooge’snephew.
“Why?”
“Whydidyougetmarried?”
sa
saidScrooge.“BecauseIfellinlove.”
“Becauseyoufellinlove!”
growledScrooge,as
om
ifthatweretheonlyonesaken
thingintheworldmoreridiculousän
thanamerryChristmas.“Goodafternoon!”
“Nay,
farbror
uncle,butyounevercametoseemeinnan
beforethathappened.Whygiveitas
en
areasonfornotcomingnow?”“Goodafternoon,”
sa
saidScrooge.“Iwantnothingfromyou;
I
ber
asknothingofyou;whycannotwebefriends?”
“Goodafternoon,”
sa
saidScrooge.“Iamsorry,withallmy
hjärta
heart,tofindyousoresolute.We
har
haveneverhadanyquarrel,tosom
whichIhavebeenapart
party.ButIhavemade
det
thetrialinhomagetoChristmas,och
andI’llkeepmyChristmashumourtodet
thelast.SoAMerryChristmas,uncle!”
“Goodafternoon!”
sa
saidScrooge.“AndAHappy
Nytt
NewYear!”“Goodafternoon!”
saidScrooge.
Hisnephew
lämnade
lefttheroomwithoutanangryord
word,notwithstanding.Hestoppedat
den
theouterdoortobestowden
thegreetingsoftheseasononden
theclerk,who,coldashewas,waswarmerän
thanScrooge;forhereturnedthemcordially.
“There’sanotherfellow,”mutteredScrooge;
som
whooverheardhim:“myclerk,
med
withfifteenshillingsaweek,och
andawifeandfamily,pratar
talkingaboutamerryChristmas.I’llretiretoBedlam.”
Här
Thislunatic,inlettingScrooge’snephewut
out,hadlettwootherpersoner
peoplein.Theywereportlygentlemen,pleasanttobehold,och
andnowstood,withtheirhatsav
off,inScrooge’soffice.They
hade
hadbooksandpapersintheirhands,och
andbowedtohim.“Scrooge
och
andMarley’s,Ibelieve,”saiden
oneofthegentlemen,referringtohislist.“HaveIthepleasureofaddressingMr.Scrooge,
eller
orMr.Marley?”“Mr.
Marley
har
hasbeendeadthesesevenyears,”Scroogereplied.“He
dog
diedsevenyearsago,thisverynight.”“Wehave
inte
nodoubthisliberalityisväl
wellrepresentedbyhissurvivingpartner,”sa
saidthegentleman,presentinghiscredentials.Itcertainlywas;
forthey
hade
hadbeentwokindredspirits.At
det
theominousword“liberality,”Scroogefrowned,och
andshookhishead,andhandeddet
thecredentialsback.“Atthisfestiveseasonofthe
året
year,Mr.Scrooge,”saidthegentleman,tog
takingupapen,“itismer
morethanusuallydesirablethatweshouldgör
makesomeslightprovisionfortheFattiga
Pooranddestitute,whosuffergreatlyatthepresenttiden
time.Manythousandsareinwantofcommonnecessaries;
hundredsofthousandsareinwantofcommoncomforts,sir.”
“Are
det
therenoprisons?”askedScrooge.
“Plentyofprisons,”
sa
saidthegentleman,layingdownthepenigen
again.“AndtheUnionworkhouses?”
demandedScrooge.
“Arethey
fortfarande
stillinoperation?”“Theyare.
Still,”returnedthegentleman,“I
önskar
wishIcouldsaytheywerenot.”“TheTreadmillandthePoorLawarein
full
fullvigour,then?”saidScrooge.
“Both
mycket
verybusy,sir.”“Oh!
Iwas
rädd
afraid,fromwhatyousaidatförst
first,thatsomethinghadoccurredtostoppa
stopthemintheirusefulcourse,”sa
saidScrooge.“I’mverygladto
höra
hearit.”“UndertheimpressionthattheyscarcelyfurnishChristiancheerof
sinne
mindorbodytothemultitude,”returnedthegentleman,“afewofusareendeavouringtoraiseen
afundtobuytheFattiga
Poorsomemeatanddrink,och
andmeansofwarmth.Wechoose
här
thistime,becauseitisen
atime,ofallothers,när
whenWantiskeenlyfelt,och
andAbundancerejoices.WhatshallIputyou
ner
downfor?”“Nothing!”
Scroogereplied.
“You
vill
wishtobeanonymous?”“I
vill
wishtobeleftalone,”sa
saidScrooge.“SinceyouaskmewhatI
önskar
wish,gentlemen,thatismysvar
answer.