STAVEONE.
MARLEY’SGHOST.
Marleywasdead:
tobeginwith.
Thereisnodoubtwhateveraboutthat.
Theregisterofhis
begravning
burialwassignedbytheclergyman,theclerk,theundertaker,andthechiefmourner.Scroogesignedit:
andScrooge’snamewasgoodupon’Change,foranythinghechosetoputhishandto.
OldMarleywasasdeadasadoor-nail.
Mind!
Idon’tmeantosaythatIknow,ofmyownknowledge,whatthereis
särskilt
particularlydeadaboutadoor-nail.Imighthavebeeninclined,myself,to
betrakta
regardacoffin-nailasthedeadestpieceofironmongeryinthetrade.Butthe
visdom
wisdomofourancestorsisinthesimile;andmyunhallowedhandsshallnot
störa
disturbit,ortheCountry’sdonefor.Youwilltherefore
tillåta
permitmetorepeat,emphatically,thatMarleywasasdeadasadoor-nail.Scroogeknewhewasdead?
Ofcoursehedid.
Howcoulditbeotherwise?
ScroogeandhewerepartnersforIdon’tknowhowmanyyears.
Scroogewashis
enda
soleexecutor,hissoleadministrator,hisenda
soleassign,hissoleresiduarylegatee,hisenda
solefriend,andsolemourner.AndevenScroogewasnotsodreadfullycutupbythesadevent,butthathewasanexcellentmanofbusinessontheverydayofthefuneral,andsolemniseditwithanundoubtedbargain.
ThementionofMarley’sfuneralbringsmebacktothepointIstartedfrom.
ThereisnodoubtthatMarleywasdead.
Thismustbedistinctlyunderstood,ornothingwonderfulcancomeofthestoryIamgoingtorelate.
IfwewerenotperfectlyconvincedthatHamlet’sFatherdiedbeforetheplaybegan,therewouldbenothingmoreremarkableinhistakinga
promenad
strollatnight,inaneasterlywind,uponhisownramparts,thantherewouldbeinanyothermiddle-agedgentlemanrashlyturningoutafterdarkinabreezyspot—saySaintPaul’sChurchyardforinstance—literallytoastonishhisson’sweakmind.ScroogeneverpaintedoutOldMarley’sname.
Thereitstood,yearsafterwards,abovethewarehousedoor:
ScroogeandMarley.
ThefirmwasknownasScroogeandMarley.
SometimespeoplenewtothebusinesscalledScroogeScrooge,andsometimesMarley,butheansweredtobothnames.
Itwasallthesametohim.
Oh!
Buthewasatight-fistedhandatthegrindstone,Scrooge!
asqueezing,wrenching,grasping,
skrapar
scraping,clutching,covetous,oldsinner!Hardandsharpas
flint
flint,fromwhichnosteelhadeverstruckoutgenerös
generousfire;secret,andself-contained,and
ensam
solitaryasanoyster.Thecoldwithinhimfrozehisoldfeatures,nippedhispointednose,shrivelledhis
kind
cheek,stiffenedhisgait;madehiseyesred,histhinlipsblue;
andspokeoutshrewdlyinhisgratingvoice.
A
frostig
frostyrimewasonhishead,andonhiseyebrows,andhiswiryhakan
chin.Hecarriedhisownlow
temperatur
temperaturealwaysaboutwithhim;heicedhisofficeinthedog-days;
anddidn’tthawitonedegreeatChristmas.
Extern
Externalheatandcoldhadlittleinflytande
influenceonScrooge.Nowarmthcouldwarm,nowintryweatherchillhim.
Nowindthatblewwasbittererthanhe,nofallingsnowwasmoreintentuponitspurpose,nopeltingrainlessopentoentreaty.
Foulweatherdidn’tknowwheretohavehim.
Theheaviestrain,andsnow,andhail,andsleet,could
skryta
boastoftheadvantageoverhiminonlyonerespect.Theyoften“camedown”handsomely,andScroogeneverdid.
Nobodyeverstoppedhiminthestreettosay,withgladsomelooks,“MydearScrooge,howareyou?
Whenwillyoucometoseeme?”
Nobeggars
bad
imploredhimtobestowasmula
trifle,nochildrenaskedhimwhatitwaso’clock,nomanorwomaneveronceinallhislifefrågade
inquiredthewaytosuchandsuchaplace,ofScrooge.Eventheblindmen’sdogsappearedtoknowhim;
andwhentheysawhimcomingon,wouldtugtheirownersintodoorwaysandupcourts;
andthenwouldwagtheirtailsasthoughtheysaid,“Noeyeatallisbetterthananevileye,darkmaster!”
ButwhatdidScroogecare!
Itwastheverythingheliked.
Toedgehiswayalongthecrowdedpathsoflife,warningallhuman
sympati
sympathytokeepitsdistance,waswhattheknowingonescall“nuts”toScrooge.Onceuponatime—ofallthegooddaysintheyear,onChristmasEve—oldScroogesatbusyinhiscounting-house.
Itwascold,bleak,bitingweather:
foggywithal:
andhecouldhearthepeopleinthecourtoutside,gowheezingupanddown,beatingtheirhandsupontheirbreasts,andstampingtheirfeetuponthepavementstonestowarmthem.
Thecityclockshadonlyjustgonethree,butitwasquitedarkalready—ithadnotbeenlightallday—andcandleswereflaringinthewindowsoftheneighbouringoffices,likeruddysmearsuponthepalpablebrownair.
Thefogcamepouringinateverychinkandkeyhole,andwasso
tät
densewithout,thatalthoughthecourtwasofthenarrowest,thehousesoppositewerebara
merephantoms.Toseethedingycloudcomedroopingdown,obscuringeverything,onemighthavethoughtthatNaturelivedhardby,andwas
bryggde
brewingonalargescale.ThedoorofScrooge’scounting-housewasopenthathemightkeephiseyeuponhis
kontorist
clerk,whoinadismallittlecellbeyond,asortoftank,wascopyingletters.Scroogehadaverysmallfire,buttheclerk’sfirewassoverymuch
mindre
smallerthatitlookedlikeonekol
coal.Buthecouldn’treplenishit,forScroogekeptthecoal-boxinhisownroom;
andsosurelyastheclerkcameinwiththeshovel,themasterpredictedthatitwouldbenecessaryforthemtopart.
Whereforetheclerkputonhiswhitecomforter,andtriedtowarmhimselfatthecandle;
inwhicheffort,notbeingamanofastrongimagination,hefailed.
“AmerryChristmas,uncle!
Godsaveyou!”
crieda
glad
cheerfulvoice.ItwasthevoiceofScrooge’snephew,whocameuponhimsoquicklythatthiswasthefirstintimationhehadofhisapproach.
“Bah!”
saidScrooge,“Humbug!”
Hehadsoheatedhimselfwith
snabb
rapidwalkinginthefogandfrost
frost,thisnephewofScrooge’s,thathewasallinaglöd
glow;hisfacewasruddyandhandsome;
hiseyessparkled,andhisbreathsmokedagain.
“Christmasahumbug,uncle!”
saidScrooge’snephew.
“Youdon’tmeanthat,Iamsure?”
“Ido,”saidScrooge.
“MerryChristmas!
Whatrighthaveyoutobemerry?
Whatreasonhaveyoutobemerry?
You’repoorenough.”
“Come,then,”returnedthenephewgaily.
“Whatrighthaveyoutobedismal?
Whatreasonhaveyoutobemorose?
You’rerichenough.”
Scroogehavingnobetteranswerreadyonthespurofthemoment,said,“Bah!”
again;
andfolloweditupwith“Humbug.”
“Don’tbecross,uncle!”
saidthenephew.
“WhatelsecanIbe,”returnedtheuncle,“whenIliveinsuchaworldoffoolsasthis?
MerryChristmas!
OutuponmerryChristmas!
What’sChristmastimetoyoubutatimeforpayingbillswithoutmoney;
atimeforfindingyourselfayearolder,butnotanhour
rikare
richer;atimeforbalancingyourbooksandhavingevery
objekt
itemin’emthrougharounddussin
dozenofmonthspresenteddeadagainstyou?IfIcouldworkmywill,”saidScroogeindignantly,“everyidiotwhogoesaboutwith‘MerryChristmas’onhislips,shouldbeboiledwithhisown
pudding
pudding,andburiedwithastakeofhollythroughhisheart.Heshould!”
“Uncle!”
pleadedthenephew.
“Nephew!”
returnedtheunclesternly,“keepChristmasinyourownway,andletmekeepitinmine.”
“Keepit!”
repeatedScrooge’snephew.
“Butyoudon’tkeepit.”
“Letmeleaveitalone,then,”saidScrooge.
“Muchgoodmayitdoyou!
Muchgoodithaseverdoneyou!”
“TherearemanythingsfromwhichImighthavederivedgood,bywhichIhavenotprofited,Idaresay,”returnedthenephew.
“Christmasamongtherest.
ButIamsureIhavealwaysthoughtofChristmastime,whenithascomeround—apartfromthevenerationduetoits
heliga
sacrednameandorigin,ifanythingbelongingtoitcanbeapartfromthat—asagoodtime;akind,forgiving,charitable,
trevlig
pleasanttime;theonlytimeIknowof,inthelong
kalender
calendaroftheyear,whenmenandwomenseembyonesamtycke
consenttoopentheirshut-upheartsfritt
freely,andtothinkofpeoplebelowthemasiftheyreallywerefellow-passengerstothegrave,andnotanotherraceofcreaturesboundonotherjourneys.Andtherefore,uncle,thoughithasneverputa
skrot
scrapofgoldorsilverinmypocket,Ibelievethatithasdonemegood,andwilldomegood;andIsay,Godblessit!”
TheclerkintheTankinvoluntarily
applåderade
applauded.Becomingimmediatelysensibleoftheimpropriety,hepokedthefire,and
släckte
extinguishedthelastfrailsparkforever.“Letmehearanothersoundfromyou,”saidScrooge,“andyou’llkeepyourChristmasbylosingyoursituation!
You’requiteapowerful
talare
speaker,sir,”headded,turningtohisnephew.“Iwonderyoudon’tgointoParliament.”
“Don’tbeangry,uncle.
Come!
Dinewithusto-morrow.”
Scroogesaidthathewouldseehim—yes,indeedhedid.
Hewentthewholelengthoftheexpression,andsaidthathewouldseehiminthatextremityfirst.
“Butwhy?”
criedScrooge’snephew.
“Why?”
“Whydidyougetmarried?”
saidScrooge.
“BecauseIfellinlove.”
“Becauseyoufellinlove!”
growledScrooge,asifthatweretheonlyonethingintheworldmoreridiculousthanamerryChristmas.
“Goodafternoon!”
“Nay,uncle,butyounevercametoseemebeforethathappened.
Whygiveitasareasonfornotcomingnow?”
“Goodafternoon,”saidScrooge.
“Iwantnothingfromyou;
Iasknothingofyou;
whycannotwebefriends?”
“Goodafternoon,”saidScrooge.
“Iamsorry,withallmyheart,tofindyousoresolute.
Wehaveneverhadany
gräl
quarrel,towhichIhavebeenaparty.ButIhavemadethetrialin
hyllning
homagetoChristmas,andI’llkeepmyChristmashumourtothelast.SoAMerryChristmas,uncle!”
“Goodafternoon!”
saidScrooge.
“AndAHappyNewYear!”
“Goodafternoon!”
saidScrooge.
Hisnephewlefttheroomwithoutanangryword,notwithstanding.
Hestoppedatthe
yttre
outerdoortobestowthehälsningar
greetingsoftheseasonontheclerk,who,coldashewas,wasvarmare
warmerthanScrooge;forhereturnedthemcordially.
“There’sanotherfellow,”mutteredScrooge;
whooverheardhim:
“my
kontorist
clerk,withfifteenshillingsaweek,andawifeandfamily,talkingaboutamerryChristmas.I’llretiretoBedlam.”
Thislunatic,inlettingScrooge’snephewout,hadlettwootherpeoplein.Theywereportlygentlemen,pleasantto
se
behold,andnowstood,withtheirhatsoff,inScrooge’soffice.Theyhadbooksandpapersintheirhands,andbowedtohim.
“ScroogeandMarley’s,Ibelieve,”saidoneofthegentlemen,referringtohislist.
“HaveIthepleasureofaddressingMr.Scrooge,orMr.Marley?”
“Mr.
Marleyhasbeendeadthesesevenyears,”Scrooge
svarade
replied.“Hediedsevenyearsago,thisverynight.”
“Wehavenodoubthisliberalityiswellrepresentedbyhissurvivingpartner,”saidthegentleman,presentinghiscredentials.
Itcertainlywas;
fortheyhadbeentwokindredspirits.
Atthe
olycksbådande
ominousword“liberality,”Scroogefrowned,andshookhishead,andhandedthecredentialsback.“Atthisfestiveseasonoftheyear,Mr.Scrooge,”saidthegentleman,takingupapen,“itismorethanusually
önskvärt
desirablethatweshouldmakesomeslightprovisionforthePooranddestitute,whosuffermycket
greatlyatthepresenttime.Manythousandsareinwantofcommonnecessaries;
hundredsofthousandsareinwantofcommoncomforts,sir.”
“Aretherenoprisons?”
askedScrooge.
“Plentyofprisons,”saidthegentleman,layingdownthepenagain.
“AndtheUnionworkhouses?”
krävde
demandedScrooge.“Aretheystillinoperation?”
“Theyare.
Still,”returnedthegentleman,“IwishIcouldsaytheywerenot.”
“TheTreadmillandthePoorLawareinfullvigour,then?”
saidScrooge.
“Bothverybusy,sir.”
“Oh!
Iwasafraid,fromwhatyousaidatfirst,thatsomethinghad
inträffat
occurredtostopthemintheirusefulcourse,”saidScrooge.“I’mverygladtohearit.”
“Undertheimpressionthatthey
knappast
scarcelyfurnishChristiancheerofmindorbodytothemultitude,”returnedthegentleman,“afewofusareendeavouringtoraiseafond
fundtobuythePoorsomemeatanddrink,andmeansofvärme
warmth.Wechoosethistime,becauseitisatime,ofallothers,whenWantiskeenlyfelt,and
Överflöd
Abundancerejoices.WhatshallIputyoudownfor?”
“Nothing!”
Scrooge
svarade
replied.“Youwishtobeanonymous?”
“Iwishtobeleftalone,”saidScrooge.
“SinceyouaskmewhatIwish,gentlemen,thatismyanswer.