STAVEONE.
MARLEY’SGHOST.
Marleywasdead:
to
börja
beginwith.Thereisno
tvivel
doubtwhateveraboutthat.Theregisterofhisburialwassignedbytheclergyman,theclerk,theundertaker,andthechiefmourner.
Scroogesignedit:
andScrooge’snamewasgoodupon’Change,foranythinghe
valde
chosetoputhishandto.OldMarleywasasdeadasadoor-nail.
Mind!
Idon’tmeantosaythatIknow,ofmyownknowledge,whatthereisparticularlydeadaboutadoor-nail.
Imighthavebeeninclined,myself,toregardacoffin-nailasthedeadest
bit
pieceofironmongeryinthetrade.Butthewisdomofourancestorsisinthesimile;
andmyunhallowedhandsshallnotdisturbit,ortheCountry’sdonefor.
Youwillthereforepermitmetorepeat,emphatically,thatMarleywasasdeadasadoor-nail.
Scroogeknewhewasdead?
Ofcoursehedid.
Howcoulditbeotherwise?
ScroogeandhewerepartnersforIdon’tknowhowmanyyears.
Scroogewashissoleexecutor,hissoleadministrator,hissoleassign,hissoleresiduarylegatee,hissolefriend,andsolemourner.
AndevenScroogewasnotsodreadfullycutupbythesadevent,butthathewasan
utmärkt
excellentmanofbusinessontheverydayofthefuneral,andsolemniseditwithanundoubtedbargain.ThementionofMarley’sfuneralbringsmebacktothepointIstartedfrom.
Thereisno
tvivel
doubtthatMarleywasdead.Thismustbedistinctlyunderstood,ornothingwonderfulcancomeofthestoryIamgoingtorelate.
IfwewerenotperfectlyconvincedthatHamlet’sFatherdiedbeforetheplay
började
began,therewouldbenothingmoreremarkableinhistakingastrollatnight,inaneasterlyvind
wind,uponhisownramparts,thantherewouldbeinanyothermiddle-agedgentlemanrashlyturningoutaftermörkret
darkinabreezyspot—saySaintPaul’sChurchyardforinstance—literallytoastonishhisson’sweakmind.ScroogeneverpaintedoutOldMarley’sname.
Thereitstood,yearsafterwards,
ovanför
abovethewarehousedoor:ScroogeandMarley.
ThefirmwasknownasScroogeandMarley.
SometimespeoplenewtothebusinesscalledScroogeScrooge,andsometimesMarley,butheansweredtobothnames.
Itwasallthesametohim.
Oh!
Buthewasatight-fistedhandatthegrindstone,Scrooge!
asqueezing,wrenching,grasping,scraping,clutching,covetous,oldsinner!
Hardandsharpasflint,fromwhichnosteelhadeverstruckoutgenerousfire;
hemlig
secret,andself-contained,andsolitaryasanoyster.Thecoldwithinhimfrozehisoldfeatures,nippedhispointed
näsa
nose,shrivelledhischeek,stiffenedhisgait;madehiseyesred,histhinlips
blå
blue;andspokeoutshrewdlyinhisgrating
röst
voice.Afrostyrimewasonhishead,andonhiseyebrows,andhiswirychin.
He
bar
carriedhisownlowtemperaturealwaysaboutwithhim;heicedhisofficeinthedog-days;
anddidn’tthawitonedegreeat
Julen
Christmas.ExternalheatandcoldhadlittleinfluenceonScrooge.
Nowarmthcould
värma
warm,nowintryweatherchillhim.No
vind
windthatblewwasbittererthanhe,nofallingsnowwasmoreintentuponitspurpose,nopeltingregn
rainlessopentoentreaty.Foulweatherdidn’tknowwheretohavehim.
Theheaviest
regnet
rain,andsnow,andhail,andsleet,couldboastoftheadvantageoverhiminonlyoneavseende
respect.Theyoften“camedown”handsomely,andScroogeneverdid.
Nobodyeverstoppedhiminthestreettosay,withgladsomelooks,“MydearScrooge,howareyou?
Whenwillyoucometoseeme?”
Nobeggarsimploredhimtobestowatrifle,nochildrenaskedhimwhatitwaso’clock,nomanorwomaneveronceinallhislifeinquiredthewaytosuchandsuchaplace,ofScrooge.
Eventheblindmen’sdogsappearedtoknowhim;
andwhentheysawhimcomingon,wouldtugtheirownersintodoorwaysandupcourts;
andthenwouldwagtheirtailsasthoughtheysaid,“No
öga
eyeatallisbetterthananont
evileye,darkmaster!”ButwhatdidScroogecare!
Itwastheverythingheliked.
Toedgehiswayalongthecrowdedpathsoflife,warningallhumansympathytokeepitsdistance,waswhattheknowingonescall“nuts”toScrooge.
Onceuponatime—ofallthegooddaysintheyear,onChristmasEve—oldScroogesat
upptagen
busyinhiscounting-house.Itwascold,bleak,bitingweather:
foggywithal:
andhecouldhearthepeopleinthecourtoutside,gowheezingupanddown,beatingtheirhandsupontheirbreasts,andstampingtheir
fötter
feetuponthepavementstonestovärma
warmthem.Thecityclockshadonlyjustgonethree,butitwasquite
mörkt
darkalready—ithadnotbeenlightallday—andcandleswereflaringinthewindowsoftheneighbouringoffices,likeruddysmearsuponthepalpablebrownair.Thefogcamepouringinateverychinkandkeyhole,andwassodensewithout,thatalthoughthe
domstolen
courtwasofthenarrowest,thehousesoppositeweremerephantoms.Toseethedingycloudcomedroopingdown,obscuringeverything,onemighthavethoughtthatNaturelivedhardby,andwasbrewingona
stor
largescale.ThedoorofScrooge’scounting-housewasopenthathemightkeephiseyeuponhisclerk,whoinadismallittle
cell
cellbeyond,asortoftank,wascopyingletters.Scroogehadaverysmallfire,buttheclerk’sfirewassoverymuchsmallerthatitlookedlikeonecoal.
Buthecouldn’treplenishit,forScroogekeptthecoal-boxinhisownroom;
andsosurelyastheclerkcameinwiththeshovel,themasterpredictedthatitwouldbe
nödvändigt
necessaryforthemtopart.Whereforetheclerkputonhiswhitecomforter,andtriedto
värma
warmhimselfatthecandle;inwhicheffort,notbeingamanofa
stark
strongimagination,hefailed.“Amerry
Jul
Christmas,uncle!Godsaveyou!”
criedacheerful
röst
voice.ItwasthevoiceofScrooge’snephew,whocameuponhimso
snabbt
quicklythatthiswasthefirstintimationhehadofhisapproach.“Bah!”
saidScrooge,“Humbug!”
Hehadsoheatedhimselfwithrapidwalkinginthefogandfrost,thisnephewofScrooge’s,thathewasallinaglow;
hisfacewasruddyandhandsome;
hiseyessparkled,andhisbreath
rökte
smokedagain.“Christmasahumbug,uncle!”
saidScrooge’snephew.
“Youdon’tmeanthat,Iamsure?”
“Ido,”saidScrooge.
“Merry
Jul
Christmas!Whatrighthaveyoutobemerry?
Whatreasonhaveyoutobemerry?
You’repoorenough.”
“Come,then,”returnedthenephewgaily.
“Whatrighthaveyoutobedismal?
Whatreasonhaveyoutobemorose?
You’re
rik
richenough.”Scroogehavingnobetteranswerreadyonthespurofthemoment,said,“Bah!”
again;
andfolloweditupwith“Humbug.”
“Don’tbecross,uncle!”
saidthenephew.
“WhatelsecanIbe,”returnedtheuncle,“whenIliveinsuchaworldoffoolsasthis?
Merry
Jul
Christmas!OutuponmerryChristmas!
What’s
Julen
Christmastimetoyoubutatimeforpayingbillswithoutmoney;atimeforfindingyourselfayearolder,butnotanhourricher;
atimeforbalancingyourbooksandhavingeveryitemin’emthrougharounddozenofmonthspresenteddeadagainstyou?
IfIcouldworkmywill,”saidScroogeindignantly,“every
idiot
idiotwhogoesaboutwith‘MerryChristmas’onhislips,shouldbeboiledwithhisownpudding,andburiedwithastakeofhollythroughhisheart.Heshould!”
“Uncle!”
pleadedthenephew.
“Nephew!”
returnedtheunclesternly,“keep
Julen
Christmasinyourownway,andletmekeepitinmine.”“Keepit!”
repeatedScrooge’snephew.
“Butyoudon’tkeepit.”
“Letmeleaveitalone,then,”saidScrooge.
“Muchgoodmayitdoyou!
Muchgoodithaseverdoneyou!”
“TherearemanythingsfromwhichImighthavederivedgood,bywhichIhavenotprofited,I
vågar
daresay,”returnedthenephew.“Christmasamongtherest.
ButIamsureIhavealwaysthoughtofChristmastime,whenithascomeround—apartfromthevenerationduetoitssacrednameandorigin,ifanythingbelongingtoitcanbeapartfromthat—asagoodtime;
akind,forgiving,charitable,pleasanttime;
theonlytimeIknowof,inthelongcalendaroftheyear,whenmenandwomen
verkar
seembyoneconsenttoopentheirshut-upheartsfreely,andtothinkofpeoplebelowthemasiftheyreallywerefellow-passengerstothegrave,andnotanotherras
raceofcreaturesboundonotherjourneys.Andtherefore,uncle,thoughithasneverputascrapof
guld
goldorsilverinmypocket,Ibelievethatithasdonemegood,andwilldomegood;andIsay,Godblessit!”
TheclerkintheTankinvoluntarilyapplauded.
Becoming
omedelbart
immediatelysensibleoftheimpropriety,hepokedthefire,andextinguishedthelastfrailsparkforever.“Letmehearanothersoundfromyou,”saidScrooge,“andyou’llkeepyour
Jul
Christmasbylosingyoursituation!You’requiteapowerfulspeaker,sir,”headded,turningtohisnephew.
“I
undrar
wonderyoudon’tgointoParliament.”“Don’tbe
arg
angry,uncle.Come!
Dinewithusto-morrow.”
Scroogesaidthathewouldseehim—yes,indeedhedid.
Hewentthewholelengthoftheexpression,andsaidthathewouldseehiminthatextremityfirst.
“Butwhy?”
criedScrooge’snephew.
“Why?”
“Whydidyougetmarried?”
saidScrooge.
“BecauseIfellinlove.”
“Becauseyoufellinlove!”
growledScrooge,asifthatweretheonlyonethingintheworldmoreridiculousthanamerry
Jul
Christmas.“Goodafternoon!”
“Nay,uncle,butyounevercametoseemebeforethathappened.
Whygiveitasareasonfornotcomingnow?”
“Goodafternoon,”saidScrooge.
“Iwantnothingfromyou;
Iasknothingofyou;
whycannotwebefriends?”
“Goodafternoon,”saidScrooge.
“Iamsorry,withallmyheart,tofindyousoresolute.
Wehaveneverhadanyquarrel,towhichIhavebeenaparty.
ButIhavemadethetrialinhomageto
Julen
Christmas,andI’llkeepmyJulen
Christmashumourtothelast.SoAMerry
Jul
Christmas,uncle!”“Goodafternoon!”
saidScrooge.
“AndAHappyNewYear!”
“Goodafternoon!”
saidScrooge.
Hisnephewlefttheroomwithoutanangryword,notwithstanding.
Hestoppedattheouterdoortobestowthegreetingsoftheseasonontheclerk,who,coldashewas,waswarmerthanScrooge;
forhereturnedthemcordially.
“There’sanotherfellow,”mutteredScrooge;
whooverheardhim:
“myclerk,withfifteenshillingsaweek,andawifeandfamily,talkingaboutamerry
Jul
Christmas.I’llretiretoBedlam.”
Thislunatic,inlettingScrooge’snephewout,hadlettwootherpeoplein.Theywereportlygentlemen,pleasanttobehold,andnowstood,withtheirhatsoff,inScrooge’soffice.
Theyhadbooksandpapersintheirhands,andbowedtohim.
“ScroogeandMarley’s,Ibelieve,”saidoneofthegentlemen,referringtohis
lista
list.“HaveIthepleasureofaddressingMr.Scrooge,orMr.Marley?”
“Mr.
Marleyhasbeendeadthese
sju
sevenyears,”Scroogereplied.“Hedied
sju
sevenyearsago,thisverynight.”“Wehaveno
tvivlar
doubthisliberalityiswellrepresentedbyhissurvivingpartner,”saidthegentleman,presenterade
presentinghiscredentials.Itcertainlywas;
fortheyhadbeentwokindredspirits.
Attheominousword“liberality,”Scroogefrowned,andshookhishead,andhandedthecredentialsback.
“Atthisfestiveseasonoftheyear,Mr.Scrooge,”saidthegentleman,takingupapen,“itismorethanusuallydesirablethatweshouldmakesomeslightprovisionforthePooranddestitute,whosuffergreatlyatthe
närvarande
presenttime.Manythousandsareinwantofcommonnecessaries;
hundredsofthousandsareinwantofcommoncomforts,sir.”
“Aretherenoprisons?”
askedScrooge.
“Plentyofprisons,”saidthegentleman,
lade
layingdownthepenagain.“AndtheUnionworkhouses?”
demandedScrooge.
“Aretheystillinoperation?”
“Theyare.
Still,”returnedthegentleman,“IwishIcouldsaytheywerenot.”
“TheTreadmillandthePoorLawareinfullvigour,then?”
saidScrooge.
“Bothverybusy,sir.”
“Oh!
Iwasafraid,fromwhatyousaidatfirst,thatsomethinghadoccurredtostopthemintheirusefulcourse,”saidScrooge.
“I’mvery
glad
gladtohearit.”“UndertheimpressionthattheyscarcelyfurnishChristiancheerofmindorbodytothemultitude,”returnedthegentleman,“afewofusareendeavouringtoraiseafundtobuythePoorsome
kött
meatanddrink,andmeansofwarmth.We
väljer
choosethistime,becauseitisatime,ofallothers,whenWantiskeenlyfelt,andAbundancerejoices.WhatshallIputyoudownfor?”
“Nothing!”
Scroogereplied.
“Youwishtobeanonymous?”
“Iwishtobeleftalone,”saidScrooge.
“SinceyouaskmewhatIwish,gentlemen,thatismyanswer.