November 9, 2023 • 44 mins
"A Christmas Carol" is a classic novella by Charles Dickens that tells the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, a miserly old man who undergoes a transformation on Christmas Eve. Visited by three spirits, he learns the true meaning of Christmas and becomes a generous and compassionate person, embracing the holiday spirit. The story highlights themes of redemption, kindness, and the power of love, making it a beloved and enduring Christmas tale.
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This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
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This is a LibriVox recording. AllLibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer,please visit LibriVox dot org. This recording
by Mark Bradford A Christmas Carol inprose being a ghost Story of Christmas by
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Charles Dickens. Preface. I haveendeavored in this ghostly little book to raise
the ghost of an idea which shallnot put my readers out of humor with
themselves, with each other, withthe season, or with me. May
it haunt their houses pleasantly, andno one wish to lay it their faithful
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friend and servant. C. D. December eighteen forty three, Stave one
Marley's ghost. Marley was dead tobegin with. There is no doubt whatever
about that. The register of hisburial was signed by the clergyman, the
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clerk, the undertaker, and thechief mourner. Scrooge signed it, and
Scrooge's name was good upon change foranything he chose to put his hand to.
Old Marley was as dead as adoor nail. Mind, I don't
mean to say that I know ofmy own knowledge what there is particularly dead
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about a door nail. I mighthave been inclined myself to regard a coffin
nail as the deadest piece of ironmongeryin the trade. But the wisdom of
our ancestors is in the simile,and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it
or the countries done for you willtherefore permit me to repeat emphatically that Marley
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was as dead as a door nail. Scrooge knew he was dead, of
course he did. How could itbe otherwise. Scrooge and he were partners
for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his
sole administrator, his soul a sign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole
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friend and soul mourner. And evenScrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by
the sad event, but that hewas an excellent man of business on the
very day of the funeral and solemnizedit with an undoubted bargain. The mention
of Marley's funeral brings me back tothe point I started from. There is
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no doubt that Marley was dead.This must be distinctly understood, or nothing
wonderful can come of the story Iam going to relate. If we were
not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's father diedbefore the play began. There would be
nothing more remarkable in his taking astroll at night in an easterly wind upon
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his own ramparts, then there wouldbe in any other middle aged gentleman rashly
turning out after dark in a breezyspot, say Saint Paul's churchyard, for
instance, literally to astonish his son'sweak mind. Scrooge never painted out Old
Marley's name. There it stood yearsafterwards, above the warehouse door, Scrooge
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and Marley. The firm was knownas Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people knew
to the business called Scrooge Scrooge,and sometimes Marley, but he answered to
both names. It was all thesame to him. Oh, but he
was a tight fisted hand at thegrindstone, Scrooge, a squeezing, wrenching,
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grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner, hard and sharp
as flint from which no steel hadever struck out, generous fire, secret
and self contained, and solitary asan oyster. The cold within him froze
his old features, nipped, hispointed nose shriveled, his cheek stiffened,
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his gait, made his eyes red, his thin lips blue, and spoke
out shrewdly in his grating voice.A frosty rhyme was on his head,
and on his eyebrows and his wirychin. He carried his own low temperature
always about with him. He icedhis office in the dog days and didn't
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thaw it one degree at Christmas.External heat and cold had little influence on
Scrooge. No warmth could warm,No wintry weather chill him. No wind
that blew was bitterer than he.No falling snow was more intent upon its
purpose. No pelting rain less opento entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where
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to have him. The heaviest rainand snow and hail and sleet could boast
of the advantage over him in onlyone respect. They often came down handsomely,
and Scrooge never did. Nobody everstopped him in the street to say,
with gladsome looks, my dear Scrooge, how are you? When will
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you come to see me? Nobeggars implored him to bestow a trifle.
No children asked him what it waso'clock. No man or woman ever,
once in all his life inquired theway to such and such a place of
Scrooge. Even the blind men's dogsappeared to know him, and when they
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saw him coming on, would tugtheir owners into doorways and up courts,
and then would wag their tails,as though they said, no eye at
all is better than an evil eye, dark master. But what did Scrooge
care? It was the very thinghe liked to edge his way along the
crowded paths of life, warning allhuman sympathy to keep its distance. Was
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what the knowing ones call nuts.To Scrooge, once upon a time,
of all the good days in theyear, on Christmas Eve, Old Scrooge
sat busy in his counting house.It was cold, bleak, biting weather,
foggy withal and he could hear thepeople in the court outside go wheezing
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up and down, beating their handsupon their breasts and stamping their feet upon
the pavement stones to warm them.The city clocks had only just gone three,
but it was quite dark already.It had not been light all day,
and candles were flaring in the windowsof the neighboring offices like ruddy smears
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upon the palpable brown air. Thefog came pouring in at every chink and
keyhole, and was so dense withoutthat although the court was of the narrowest,
the houses opposite were mere phantoms.To see the dingy cloud come drooping
down, obscuring everything, one mighthave thought that nature lived hard by and
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was brewing on a large scale.The door of Scrooge's counting house was open
that he might keep his eye uponhis clerk, who, in a dismal
little cell beyond a sort of tank, was copying letters. Scrooge had a
very small fire, but the clerk'sfire was so very much smaller that it
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looked like one coal. But hecouldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the
coal box in his own room,and so surely as the clerk came in
with the shovel, the master predictedthat it would be necessary for them to
part. Wherefore the clerk put onhis white comforter and tried to warm himself
at the candle, in which effort, not being a man of a strong
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imagination, he failed. A MerryChristmas, Uncle, God save you,
cried a cheerful voice. It wasthe voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came
upon him so quickly that this wasthe first intimation he had of his approach.
Ah, said Scrooge, humbug,He had so heated himself with rapid
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walking in the fog and frost.This nephew of Scrooges that he was all
in a glow. His face wasruddy and handsome, his eyes sparkled,
and his breath smoked again. Christmasa humbug, uncle, said Scrooge's nephew.
You don't mean that. I amsure I do, said Scrooge.
Merry Christmas? What right have youto be merry? What reason have you
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to be merry? You're poor enough? Come then, returned the nephew gaily.
What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be
morose? You're rich enough. Scrooge, having no better answer ready on the
spur of the moment, said bahagain, and followed it up with humbug.
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Don't be cross, uncle, saidthe nephew. What else can I
be, returned the uncle. WhenI live in such a world of fools
as this, Merry Christmas? Outupon merry Christmas? What's Christmas time to
you but a time for paying billswithout money, a time for finding yourself?
A year older, but not anhour richer, a time for balancing
your books, and having every itemin em through a round dozen of months
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presented dead against you. If Icould work my will, said Scrooge indignantly,
every idiot who goes about with merryChristmas on his lips should be boiled
with his own pudding and buried witha stake of holly through his heart.
He should, uncle, pleaded thenephew. Nephew returned the uncle sternly,
keep Christmas in your own way,and let me keep it in mine.
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Keep it, repeated Scrooge's nephew.But you don't keep it, let me
leave it alone, then, saidScrooge. Much good may it do you?
Much good it has ever done you. There are many things from which
I might have derived good by whichI have not profited. I dare say,
returned the nephew, Christmas among therest. But I am sure I
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have always thought of Christmas time whenit has come round, apart from the
veneration, due to its sacred nameand origin, if anything belonging to it
can be apart from that, asa good time, a kind for giving,
charitable, pleasant time, the onlytime I know of in the long
calendar of the year, when menand women seem by one consent to open
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their shut up hearts freely, andto think of people below them as if
they really were fellow passengers to thegrave, and not another race of creatures
bound on other journeys. And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put
a scrap of gold or silver inmy pocket, I believe that it has
done me good and will do megood. And I say God bless it.
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The clerk in the tank involuntarily applauded. Becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety,
he poked the fire and extinguished thelast frail spark forever. Let me
hear another sound from you, saidscrew Rouge, and you'll keep your Christmas
by losing your situation. You're quitea powerful speaker, sir, he added,
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turning to his nephew, I wonderyou don't go into parliament. Don't
be angry, uncle, come dinewith us tomorrow. Scrooge said that he
would see him. Yes, indeedhe did. He went the whole length
of the expression and said that hewould see him in that extremity first.
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But why, cried Scrooge's nephew,Why, why did you get married,
said Scrooge. Because I fell inlove, because you fell in love,
growled Scrooge, as if that werethe only one thing in the world more
ridiculous than a merry Christmas. Goodafternoon. Nay, uncle, but you
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never came to see me before thathappened. Why give it as a reason
for not coming now? Good afternoon, said Scrooge. I want nothing from
you, I ask nothing of you. Why cannot we be friends? Good
afternoon, said Scrooge. I amsorry with all my heart to find you
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so resolute. We have never hadany quarrel to which I have been a
party, but I have made thetrial in homage to Christmas, and I'll
keep my Christmas humor to the last. So a merry Christmas, uncle,
Good afternoon, said Scrooge, Anda happy New Year. Good afternoon,
said Scrooge. His nephew left theroom without an angry word, Notwithstanding,
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he stopped at the outer door tobestow the greetings of the season on the
clerk, who, cold as hewas, was warmer than Scrooge, for
he returned to them cordially. There'sanother fellow, muttered Scrooge, who overheard
him. My clerk with fifteen shillingsa week, and a wife and family
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talking about a merry Christmas. I'llretire to bedlam. This lunatic in letting
Scrooge's nephew out, had let twoother people in. They were portly gentlemen,
pleasant to behold, and now stoodwith their hats off in Scrooge's office.
They had books and papers in theirhands, and bowed to him.
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Scrooge and Marley's, I believe,said one of the gentlemen, referring to
his list. Have I the pleasureof addressing mister Scrooge or mister Marley.
Mister Marley has been dead these sevenyears, Scrooge replied, he died seven
years ago this very night. Wehave no doubt his liberality is well represented
by his surviving partner, said thegentleman presenting his credentials. It certainly was,
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for they had been two kindred spirits. At the ominous word liberality,
Scrooge frowned and shook his head,and handed the credentials back. At this
festive season of the year, misterScrooge said the gentleman, taking up a
pen, it is more unusually desirablethat we should make some slight provision for
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the poor and destitute who suffered greatlyat the present time. Many thousands are
in want of common necessaries. Hundredsof thousands are in want of common comforts.
Sir, are there no prisons,asked Scrooge. Plenty of prisons,
said the gentleman, laying down thepen again. And the union workhouses demanded
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Scrooge, are they still in operation? They are still, returned the gentleman.
I wish I could say they werenot. The treadmill and the poor
law are in full vigor, then, said Scrooge, both very busy.
Sir, oh, I was afraidfrom what you had said at first,
that something had occurred to stop themin their useful course. Said Scrooge.
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I'm very glad to hear it,under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian
cheer of mind or body to themultitude, returned the gentleman. A few
of us are endeavor to raise afund to buy the poor some meat and
drink and means of warmth. Wechoose this time because it is a time
of all others, when want iskeenly felt, and abundance rejoices. What
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shall I put you down for nothing? Scrooge replied, you wish to be
anonymous. I wish to be leftalone, said Scrooge. Since you ask
me what I wish, gentlemen,that is my answer. I don't make
merry myself at Christmas, and Ican't afford to make idle people merry.
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I help to support the establishments Ihave mentioned. They cost enough, and
those who are badly off must gothere. Many can't go there, and
many would rather die. If theywould rather die, said Scrooge, they
had better do it and decrease thesurplus population. Besides, excuse me,
I don't know that, but youmight know it, observed the gentleman.
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It's not my business, Scrooge returned, as enough for a man to understand
his own business and not to interferewith other peoples. Mine occupies me constantly.
Good afternoon, gentlemen. Seeing clearlythat it would be useless to pursue
their point, the gentleman withdrew.Scrooge resumed his labors with an improved opinion
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of himself, and in a morefacetious temper than was usual with him.
Meanwhile, the fog and darkness thickened, so that people ran about with flaring
lynks. Proffering their services to gobefore horses in carriages and conduct them on
their way. The ancient tower ofa church, whose gruff old bell was
always peeping slyly down at Scrooge outof a gothic window in the wall,
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became invisible and struck the hours andquarters in the clouds with tremulous vibrations,
afterwards, as if its teeth werechattering in its frozen head. Up there,
the cold became intense in the mainstreet. At the corner of the
court, some laborers were repairing thegas pipes and had lighted a great fire
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in a breezier, round which aparty of ragged men and boys were gathered,
warming their hands and winking their eyesbefore the blaze in rapture. The
water plug, being left in solitude, its overflowings sullenly congealed and turned to
misanthropic ice. The brightness of theshops, where holly sprigs and berries crackled
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in the lamp heat of the windowsmade pale faces ruddy as they passed.
Poulterers and grocer's trades became a splendidjoke, a glorious pageant with which it
was next to impossible to believe thatsuch dull principles as bargain and sale had
anything to do. The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Mansion
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House, gave orders to his fiftycooks and butlers to keep Christmas as the
Lord Mayor's household should. And eventhe little tailor, whom he had fined
five shillings on the previous Monday forbeing drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets,
stirred up tomorrow's pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and the baby
sallied out to buy the beef.Foggier yet and colder, piercing, searching,
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biting cold. If the good SaintDunstan had but nipped the evil spirit's
nose with a touch of such weatheras that, instead of using his familiar
weapons, then indeed he would haveroared to lusty purpose. The owner of
one scant young nose, gnawed andmumbled by the hungry cold as bones are
gnawed by dogs, stooped down atScrooge's keyhole to regale him with a Christmas
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carol. But at the first soundof God, bless you, marry gentle
men, may nothing you dismay Scroogeseized the ruler with such energy of action
that the singer fled in terror,leaving the keyhole to the fog and even
more congenial frost. At length,the hour of shutting up the counting house
arrived. With an ill will.Scrooge dismounted from his stool and tacitly admitted
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the fact to the expect clerk inthe tank, who instantly snuffed his candle
out and put on his hat.You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose,
said Scrooge, if quite convenient,sir. It's not convenient, said
Scrooge. And it's not fair.If I was to stop half a crown
for it, you'd think yourself illused. I'll be bound. The clerk
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smiled faintly, and yet said Scrooge, you don't think me ill used when
I pay a day's wages for nowork. The clerk observed that it was
only once a year. A poorexcuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty
fifth of December, said Scrooge,buttoning his greatcoat to the chin. But
I suppose you must have the wholeday be here all the earlier. Next
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morning, the clerk promised that hewould, and Scrooge walked out with a
growl. The office was closed ina twinkling, and the clerk, with
the long ends of his white comforterdangling below his waist, for he boasted
no greatcoat, went down a slideon Cornhill at the end of a lane
of boys twenty times in honor ofits being Christmas Eve, and then ran
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home to Camden Town as hard ashe could pelt to play at Lineman's buff
Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in hisusual melancholy tavern, and, having read
all the newspapers and beguiled the restof the evening with his banker's book,
went home to bed. He livedin chambers which had once belonged to his
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deceased partner. They were a gloomysuite of rooms in a lowering pile of
building up a yard where it hadso little business to be that one could
scarcely help fancying it must have runthere when it was a young house,
playing at hide and seek with otherhouses, and forgotten the way out again.
It was old enough now and drearyenough, for nobody lived in it
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but Scrooge, the other rooms beingall let out his offices. The yard
was so dark that even Scrooge,who knew its every stone, was fain
to grope with his hands. Thefog and frost so hung about the black
old gateway of the house that itseemed as if the genius of the weather
sat in mournful meditation on the threshold. Now it is a fact that there
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was nothing at all particular about theknocker on the door, except that it
was very large. It is alsoa fact that Scrooge had seen it night
and morning during his whole residence inthat place. Also that Scrooge had as
little of what is called fancy abouthim as any man in the city of
London, even including which is abold word, the corporation, Alderman and
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livery. Let it also be bornein mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one
thought on Marley since his last mentionof his seven years dead partner that afternoon.
And then let any man explain tome, if he can, how
it happened that Scrooge, having hiskey in the lock of the door,
saw in the knocker without its undergoingany intermediate process of change, not a
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knocker, but Marley's face. Marley'sface It was not in impenetrable shadow,
as the other objects in the yardwere, but had a dismal light about
it, like a bad lobster ina dark cellar. It was not angry
or ferocious, but looked at Scroogeas Marley used to look, with ghostly
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spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. The hair was curiously stirred, as
if by breath or hot air,and though the eyes were wide open,
they were perfectly motionless. That andits livid color made it horrible, But
its horror seemed to be in spiteof the face, and beyond its control,
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rather than a part of its ownexpression. As Scrooge looked fixedly at
this phenomenon, it was a knockeragain. To say that he was not
startled, or that his blood wasnot conscious of a terrible sensation to which
it had been a stranger from infancy, would be untrue. But he put
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his hand upon the key he hadrelinquished, turned it sturdily, walked in,
and lighted his candle. He didpause with a moment's irresolution before he
shut the door, and he didlook cautiously behind it first, as if
he half expected to be terrified,with the sight of Marley's pigtail sticking out
into the hall. But there wasnothing on the back of the door except
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the screws and nuts that held theknocker on. So he said, pooh
pooh, and closed it with abang. The sound resounded through the house
like thunder. Every room above,and every cask in the wine merchant's cellars
below, appeared to have a separatepeal of echoes of its own. Scrooge
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was not a man to be frightenedby echoes. He fastened the door and
walked across the hall and up thestairs, slowly, too, trimming his
candle as he went. You maytalk vaguely about driving a coach and six
up a good old flight of stairs, or through a bad young act of
Parliament, But I mean to sayyou might have got a hearse up that
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staircase and taken it broadwise, withthe splinter bar towards the wall, and
the door towards the balustrades, anddone it easy. There was plenty of
width for that, and room tospare, which is perhaps the reason why
Scrooge thought he saw a locomotive hearsegoing on before him in the gloom.
Half a dozen gas lamps out ofthe street wouldn't have lighted the entry too
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well, so you may suppose thatit was pretty dark with Scrooge's dip up.
Scrooge went not carrying a button,for that darkness is cheap, and
Scrooge liked it. But before heshut his heavy door, he walked through
his rooms to see that all wasright. He had just enough recollection of
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the face to desire to do that. Sitting room, bedroom, lumber room,
all as they should be. Nobodyunder the table, nobody under the
sofa, a small fire in thegrate, spoon and basin ready, and
the little saucepan of gruel. Scroogehad a cold in his head upon the
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hob Nobody under the bed, Nobodyin the closet, Nobody in his dressing
gown, which was hanging up ina suspicious attitude against the wall. Lumber
room as usual, old fire guard, old shoes, two fish baskets,
washing stand on three legs, anda poker. Quite satisfied, he closed
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his door and locked himself in,double locked himself in, which was not
his custom. Thus secured against surprise, he took off his cravat, put
on his dressing gown, and slippersand his night cap, and sat down
before the fire to take his gruel. It was a very low fire,
indeed nothing on such a bitter night. He was obliged to sit close to
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it and brood over it before hecould extract the least sensation of warmth from
such a handful of fuel. Thefireplace was an old one, built by
some Dutch merchant long ago, andpaved all round with quaint Dutch tiles designed
to illustrate the scriptures. There werecanes and abels, Pharaoh's daughters, queens
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of Sheba, and jelic messengers descendingthrough the air on clouds like feather beds,
Abraham's Belshazzar's apostles putting off to seain butter boats. Hundreds of figures
to attract his thoughts, and yetthat face of Marley, seven years dead,
came like the ancient prophet's rod andswallowed up the whole. If each
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smooth tile had been a blank atfirst, with power to shape some picture
on its surface from the disjointed fragmentof his thoughts, there would have been
a copy of old Marley's head onevery one. Humbug, said Scrooge,
and walked across the room. Afterseveral turns, he sat down again.
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As he threw his head back inthe chair, his glance happened to rest
upon a bell, a disused bellthat hung in the room and communicated for
some purpose now forgotten, with achamber in the highest story of the building.
It was with great astonishment and witha strange, inexplicable dread, that
as he looked he saw this bellbegan to swing. It swung so softly
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in the outset that it scarcely madea sound. But soon it rang out
loudly, and sow did every bellin the house. This might have lasted
half a minute or a minute,but it seemed an hour. The bells
ceased as they had begun together.They were succeeded by a clanking noise deep
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down below, as if some personwere dragging a heavy chain over the casks
in the wine merchant's cellar. Scroogethen remembered to have heard that ghosts in
haunted houses were described as dragging chains. The cellar door flew open with a
booming sound, and then he heardthe noise much louder, on the floors
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below, then coming up the stairs, then coming straight towards his door.
It's humbug, still, said Scrooge. I won't believe it. His color
changed, though, when without apause, it came on through the heavy
door and passed into the room beforehis eyes. Upon its coming in,
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the dying flame leaped up as thoughit cried, I know him, Marley's
ghost, and fell again the sameface, the very same Marley in his
pig tail, usual waistcoat, tightsand boots, the tassels on the latter
bristling like his pigtail, and hiscoat skirts, and the hair upon his
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head. The chain he drew wasclasped about his middle. It was long
and wound about him like a tail, and it was made for Scrooge observed
it closely, of cash boxes,keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds,
and heavy purses wrought in steel.His body was transparent, so that Scrooge,
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observing him, and looking through hiswaistcoat, could see the two buttons
on his coat behind. Scrooge hadoften heard it said that Marley had no
bowels, but he had never believedit until now. No, nor did
he believe it even now, thoughhe looked the phantom through and through,
and saw it standing before him,though he felt the chilling influence of its
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death cold eyes, and marked thevery texture of the folded kerchief bound about
its head and chin, which wrapperhe had not observed before. He was
still incredulous and fought against his senses. How now, said Scrooge, caustic
and cold as ever, What doyou want with me? Much Marley's voice,
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No doubt about it? Who areyou? Ask me? Who I
was? Who were you? Then, said Scrooge, raising his voice.
You're particular for a shade. Hewas going to say, too, a
shade, but substituted this as moreappropriate in life. I was your partner,
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Jacob Marley. Can you can yousit down? Asked Scrooge, looking
doubtfully at him. I can doit, then. Scrooge asked the question
because he didn't know whether a ghostso transparent might find himself in a condition
to take a chair, and feltthat in the event of its being impossible,
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it might involve the necessity of anembarrassing explanation. But the ghost sat
down on the opposite side of thefireplace as if he were quite used to
it. You don't believe in me, observed the ghost. I don't,
said Scrooge. What evidence would youhave of my reality beyond that of your
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senses? I don't know, saidScrooge. Why do you doubt your senses?
Because, said Scrooge, a littlething affects them. A slight disorder
of the stomach makes them cheats.You may be an undigested bit of beef,
a blot of mustard, a crumbof cheese, a fragment of an
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underdone potato. There's more of gravythan of grave about you, whatever you
are. Scrooge was not much inthe habit of cracking jokes, nor did
he feel in his heart by anymeans waggish. Then the truth is that
he tried to be smart as ameans of distracting his own attention and keeping
down his terror. For the specter'svoice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.
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To sit staring at those fixed glazedeyes in silence for a moment would
play, Scrooge felt the very deucewith him. There was something very awful
too, in the Specter's being providedwith an infernal atmosphere of its own.
Scrooge could not feel it himself,but this was clearly the case, for
though the ghost sat perfectly motionless,its hair and skirts and tassels were still
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agitated, as by the hot vaporfrom an oven. You see this,
tooth pick, said Scrooge, returningquickly to the charge for the reason just
assigned, and wishing, though itwere only for a second, to divert
the vision's stony gaze from himself.I do, replied the ghost. You
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are not looking at it, saidScrooge. But I see it, said
the ghost. Notwithstanding well, returnedScrooge. I have but to swallow this
and be for the rest of mydays persecuted by a legion of goblins,
all of my own creation. Humbug, I tell you, humbug. At
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this, the spirit raised a frightfulcry and shook its chain with such a
dismal and appalling noise that Scrooge heldon tight to his chair to save himself
from falling in a swoon. Buthow much greater was his horror when the
phantom, taking off the bandage roundits head, as if it were too
warm to wherein doors, its lowerjaw dropped down upon its breast. Scrooge
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fell upon his knees and clasped hishands before his face. Mercy, he
said, dreadful apparition, Why doyou trouble me? Man of the worldly
mind, replied the ghost. Doyou believe in me or not? I
do, said Scrooge, I must, But why do spirits walk the earth?
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And why do they come to me? It is required of every man.
The ghost returned that the spirit withinhim should walk abroad among his fellow
men, and travel far and wide. And if that spirit goes not forth
in life, it is condemned todo so. After death, it is
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doomed to wander through the world.Ho woe is me, and witness what
it cannot share but might have sharedon earth? And turned to happiness again.
The specter raised a cry and shookits chain and wrung its shadowy hands.
You are fettered, said Scrooge,trembling. Tell me why I wear
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the chain I forged in life,replied the ghost. I made it link
by link and yard by yard.I girded it on of my own free
will, and of my own freewill I wore it. Is its pattern
strange to you. Scrooge trembled moreand more, or would you know,
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pursued the ghost. The weight andlength of the strong coil you bear yourself.
It was full, as heavy andas long as this seven Christmas eves
ago. You have labored on it, since it is a ponderous chain.
Scrooge glanced about him on the floorin the expectation of finding himself surrounded by
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some fifty or sixty fathoms of ironcable. But he could see nothing.
Jacob, he said, imploringly,Old Jacob Marley, tell me more.
Speak comfort to me, Jacob,I have none to give, the ghost
replied. It comes from other regions, a Benezer Scrooge, and is conveyed
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by other ministers to other kinds ofmen. Nor can I tell you what
I would? A very little moreis all permitted to me. I cannot
rest, I cannot stay, Icannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walked
beyond our counting house mark me inlife. My spirit never roved beyond the
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narrow limits of our money. Changingwhole and weary journeys lie before me.
It was a habit with Scrooge.Whenever he became thoughtful to put his hands
in his breeches pockets, pondering onwhat the ghost had said. He did
so now, but without lifting uphis eyes or getting off his knees.
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You must have been very slow aboutit. Jacob Scrooge observed in a business
like manner, though with humility anddeference. Slow, Oh, the ghost
repeated. Seven years dead, musedScrooge, And traveling all the time the
whole time, said the ghost.No rest, no peace, incessant torture
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of remorse. You travel fast,said Scrooge. On the wings of the
wind, replied the ghost. Youmight have got over a great quantity of
ground in seven years, said Scrooge. The ghost, on hearing this,
set up another cry and clanked itschain so hideously in the dead silence of
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the night that the ward would havebeen justified in indicting it for a nuisance.
Oh, captive, bound and doubleironed, cried the phantom. Not
to know that ages of incessant laborby immortal creatures for this earth must pass
into eternity before the good of whichit is susceptible is all developed. Not
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to know that any Christian spirit,working kindly in its little sphere, whatever
it may be, will find itsmortal life too short for its vast means
of usefulness. Not to know thatno space of regret can make amends for
one life's opportunity misused. Yet suchwas I, Oh, such was I,
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But you were always a good manof business. Jacob faltered Scrooge,
who now began to apply this tohimself business, cried the ghost, bringing
its hands again. Mankind was mybusiness. The common welfare was my business.
Charity, mercy, forbearance, andbenevolence were all my business. The
dealings of my trade were but adrop of water in the comprehensive ocean of
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my business. It held up itschain at arm's length, as if that
were the cause of all its unavailinggrief, and flung it heavily upon the
ground again. At this time,I am of the rolling year, the
specter said, I suffer most.Why did I walk through crowds of fellow
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beings with my eyes turned down andnever raise them to that blessed star which
led the wise men to a poorabode? Were there no poor homes to
which its light would have conducted me? Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear
the specter going on at this rate, and began to quake exceedingly hear me,
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cried the ghost. My time isnearly gone, I will, said
Scrooge, But don't be hard uponme. Don't be flowery Jacob, pray,
how it is that I appear beforeyou in a shape that you can
see? I may not tell Ihave sat invisible beside you many and many
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a day. It was not anagreeable idea. Scrooge shivered and wiped the
perspiration from his brow. That isno light part of my penance, pursued
the ghost. I am here tonightto warn you that you have yet a
chance in hope of escaping my feet, A chance and hope of my procuring.
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Ebenezer, you are always a goodfriend to me, said Scrooge.
Thank ye, you will be haunted, resumed the ghost by three spirits.
Scrooge's countenance fell almost as low asthe ghosts had done. Is that the
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chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob, he demanded in a faltering voice.
It is I I think I'd rathernot, said Scrooge. Without their visits,
said the ghost, You cannot hopeto shun the path I tread.
Expect the first tomorrow when the belltolls. One couldn't I take'em all
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at once and have it over,Jacob hinted Scrooge. Expect the second on
the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night,
when the last stroke of twelve hasceased to vibrate, look to see me
no more, and look that foryour own sake, you remember what has
passed between us. When it hadsaid these words, the Specter took its
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wrapper from the table and bound itround its head as before. Scrooge knew
this by the smart sound its teethmade when the jaws were brought together by
the bandage. He ventured to raisehis eyes again and found his supernatural visitor
confronting him in an erect attitude.With its chain wound over and about its
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arm. The apparition walked backward fromhim, and at every step it took,
the window raised itself a little,so that when the Specter reached it,
it was wide open. It beckonedScrooge to approach, which he did.
When they were within two paces ofeach other. Marley's ghost held up
its hand, warning him to comeno nearer. Scrooge stopped, not so
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much in obedience as in surprise andfear, for on the raising of the
hand he became sensible of confused noisesin the air, incoherent sounds of lamentation
and regret, wailings inexpressibly sorrowful andself accusatory. The specter, after listening
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for a moment, joined in themournful dirge, and floated out upon the
bleak, dark night. Scrooge followedto the window, desperate in his curiosity.
He looked out. The air wasfilled with phantoms, wandering hither and
thither in restless haste, and moaningas they went. Every one of them
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wore chains like Marley's ghost. Somefew they might be guilty governments were linked
together. None were. Many hadbeen personally known to Scrooge in their lives.
He had been quite familiar with oneold ghost in a white waistcoat with
a monstrous iron safe attached to itsankle, who cried piteously at being unable
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to assist a wretched woman with aninfant, whom it saw below upon a
doorstep. The misery with them allwas clearly that they sought to interfere for
good in human matters, and hadlost the power forever. Whether these creatures
faded into mist or mist enshrouded them, he could not tell. But they
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and their spirit voices faded together,and the night became as it had been
when he walked home. Scrooge closedthe window and examined the door by which
the ghost had entered. It wasdouble locked, as he had locked it
with his own hands, and thebolts were undisturbed. He tried to say
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humbug, but stopped at the firstsyllable, and, being from the emotion
he had undergone, or the fatiguesof the day, or his glimpse of
the invisible world, or the dullconversation of the ghost, or the lateness
of the hour, much in needof repose, went straight to bed without
undressing, and fell asleep upon theinstant end of Stave one, recorded November
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twenty third, two thousand five,in Longmont, Colorado,
This is a LibriVox recording. AllLibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer,please visit LibriVox dot org. This recording
by Mark Bradford A Christmas Carol inprose being a ghost Story of Christmas by
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Charles Dickens. Preface. I haveendeavored in this ghostly little book to raise
the ghost of an idea which shallnot put my readers out of humor with
themselves, with each other, withthe season, or with me. May
it haunt their houses pleasantly, andno one wish to lay it their faithful
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friend and servant. C. D. December eighteen forty three, Stave one
Marley's ghost. Marley was dead tobegin with. There is no doubt whatever
about that. The register of hisburial was signed by the clergyman, the
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clerk, the undertaker, and thechief mourner. Scrooge signed it, and
Scrooge's name was good upon change foranything he chose to put his hand to.
Old Marley was as dead as adoor nail. Mind, I don't
mean to say that I know ofmy own knowledge what there is particularly dead
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about a door nail. I mighthave been inclined myself to regard a coffin
nail as the deadest piece of ironmongeryin the trade. But the wisdom of
our ancestors is in the simile,and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it
or the countries done for you willtherefore permit me to repeat emphatically that Marley
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was as dead as a door nail. Scrooge knew he was dead, of
course he did. How could itbe otherwise. Scrooge and he were partners
for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his
sole administrator, his soul a sign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole
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friend and soul mourner. And evenScrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by
the sad event, but that hewas an excellent man of business on the
very day of the funeral and solemnizedit with an undoubted bargain. The mention
of Marley's funeral brings me back tothe point I started from. There is
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no doubt that Marley was dead.This must be distinctly understood, or nothing
wonderful can come of the story Iam going to relate. If we were
not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's father diedbefore the play began. There would be
nothing more remarkable in his taking astroll at night in an easterly wind upon
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his own ramparts, then there wouldbe in any other middle aged gentleman rashly
turning out after dark in a breezyspot, say Saint Paul's churchyard, for
instance, literally to astonish his son'sweak mind. Scrooge never painted out Old
Marley's name. There it stood yearsafterwards, above the warehouse door, Scrooge
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and Marley. The firm was knownas Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people knew
to the business called Scrooge Scrooge,and sometimes Marley, but he answered to
both names. It was all thesame to him. Oh, but he
was a tight fisted hand at thegrindstone, Scrooge, a squeezing, wrenching,
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grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner, hard and sharp
as flint from which no steel hadever struck out, generous fire, secret
and self contained, and solitary asan oyster. The cold within him froze
his old features, nipped, hispointed nose shriveled, his cheek stiffened,
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his gait, made his eyes red, his thin lips blue, and spoke
out shrewdly in his grating voice.A frosty rhyme was on his head,
and on his eyebrows and his wirychin. He carried his own low temperature
always about with him. He icedhis office in the dog days and didn't
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thaw it one degree at Christmas.External heat and cold had little influence on
Scrooge. No warmth could warm,No wintry weather chill him. No wind
that blew was bitterer than he.No falling snow was more intent upon its
purpose. No pelting rain less opento entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where
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to have him. The heaviest rainand snow and hail and sleet could boast
of the advantage over him in onlyone respect. They often came down handsomely,
and Scrooge never did. Nobody everstopped him in the street to say,
with gladsome looks, my dear Scrooge, how are you? When will
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you come to see me? Nobeggars implored him to bestow a trifle.
No children asked him what it waso'clock. No man or woman ever,
once in all his life inquired theway to such and such a place of
Scrooge. Even the blind men's dogsappeared to know him, and when they
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saw him coming on, would tugtheir owners into doorways and up courts,
and then would wag their tails,as though they said, no eye at
all is better than an evil eye, dark master. But what did Scrooge
care? It was the very thinghe liked to edge his way along the
crowded paths of life, warning allhuman sympathy to keep its distance. Was
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what the knowing ones call nuts.To Scrooge, once upon a time,
of all the good days in theyear, on Christmas Eve, Old Scrooge
sat busy in his counting house.It was cold, bleak, biting weather,
foggy withal and he could hear thepeople in the court outside go wheezing
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up and down, beating their handsupon their breasts and stamping their feet upon
the pavement stones to warm them.The city clocks had only just gone three,
but it was quite dark already.It had not been light all day,
and candles were flaring in the windowsof the neighboring offices like ruddy smears
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upon the palpable brown air. Thefog came pouring in at every chink and
keyhole, and was so dense withoutthat although the court was of the narrowest,
the houses opposite were mere phantoms.To see the dingy cloud come drooping
down, obscuring everything, one mighthave thought that nature lived hard by and
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was brewing on a large scale.The door of Scrooge's counting house was open
that he might keep his eye uponhis clerk, who, in a dismal
little cell beyond a sort of tank, was copying letters. Scrooge had a
very small fire, but the clerk'sfire was so very much smaller that it
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looked like one coal. But hecouldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the
coal box in his own room,and so surely as the clerk came in
with the shovel, the master predictedthat it would be necessary for them to
part. Wherefore the clerk put onhis white comforter and tried to warm himself
at the candle, in which effort, not being a man of a strong
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imagination, he failed. A MerryChristmas, Uncle, God save you,
cried a cheerful voice. It wasthe voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came
upon him so quickly that this wasthe first intimation he had of his approach.
Ah, said Scrooge, humbug,He had so heated himself with rapid
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walking in the fog and frost.This nephew of Scrooges that he was all
in a glow. His face wasruddy and handsome, his eyes sparkled,
and his breath smoked again. Christmasa humbug, uncle, said Scrooge's nephew.
You don't mean that. I amsure I do, said Scrooge.
Merry Christmas? What right have youto be merry? What reason have you
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to be merry? You're poor enough? Come then, returned the nephew gaily.
What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be
morose? You're rich enough. Scrooge, having no better answer ready on the
spur of the moment, said bahagain, and followed it up with humbug.
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Don't be cross, uncle, saidthe nephew. What else can I
be, returned the uncle. WhenI live in such a world of fools
as this, Merry Christmas? Outupon merry Christmas? What's Christmas time to
you but a time for paying billswithout money, a time for finding yourself?
A year older, but not anhour richer, a time for balancing
your books, and having every itemin em through a round dozen of months
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presented dead against you. If Icould work my will, said Scrooge indignantly,
every idiot who goes about with merryChristmas on his lips should be boiled
with his own pudding and buried witha stake of holly through his heart.
He should, uncle, pleaded thenephew. Nephew returned the uncle sternly,
keep Christmas in your own way,and let me keep it in mine.
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Keep it, repeated Scrooge's nephew.But you don't keep it, let me
leave it alone, then, saidScrooge. Much good may it do you?
Much good it has ever done you. There are many things from which
I might have derived good by whichI have not profited. I dare say,
returned the nephew, Christmas among therest. But I am sure I
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have always thought of Christmas time whenit has come round, apart from the
veneration, due to its sacred nameand origin, if anything belonging to it
can be apart from that, asa good time, a kind for giving,
charitable, pleasant time, the onlytime I know of in the long
calendar of the year, when menand women seem by one consent to open
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their shut up hearts freely, andto think of people below them as if
they really were fellow passengers to thegrave, and not another race of creatures
bound on other journeys. And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put
a scrap of gold or silver inmy pocket, I believe that it has
done me good and will do megood. And I say God bless it.
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The clerk in the tank involuntarily applauded. Becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety,
he poked the fire and extinguished thelast frail spark forever. Let me
hear another sound from you, saidscrew Rouge, and you'll keep your Christmas
by losing your situation. You're quitea powerful speaker, sir, he added,
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turning to his nephew, I wonderyou don't go into parliament. Don't
be angry, uncle, come dinewith us tomorrow. Scrooge said that he
would see him. Yes, indeedhe did. He went the whole length
of the expression and said that hewould see him in that extremity first.
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But why, cried Scrooge's nephew,Why, why did you get married,
said Scrooge. Because I fell inlove, because you fell in love,
growled Scrooge, as if that werethe only one thing in the world more
ridiculous than a merry Christmas. Goodafternoon. Nay, uncle, but you
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never came to see me before thathappened. Why give it as a reason
for not coming now? Good afternoon, said Scrooge. I want nothing from
you, I ask nothing of you. Why cannot we be friends? Good
afternoon, said Scrooge. I amsorry with all my heart to find you
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so resolute. We have never hadany quarrel to which I have been a
party, but I have made thetrial in homage to Christmas, and I'll
keep my Christmas humor to the last. So a merry Christmas, uncle,
Good afternoon, said Scrooge, Anda happy New Year. Good afternoon,
said Scrooge. His nephew left theroom without an angry word, Notwithstanding,
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he stopped at the outer door tobestow the greetings of the season on the
clerk, who, cold as hewas, was warmer than Scrooge, for
he returned to them cordially. There'sanother fellow, muttered Scrooge, who overheard
him. My clerk with fifteen shillingsa week, and a wife and family
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talking about a merry Christmas. I'llretire to bedlam. This lunatic in letting
Scrooge's nephew out, had let twoother people in. They were portly gentlemen,
pleasant to behold, and now stoodwith their hats off in Scrooge's office.
They had books and papers in theirhands, and bowed to him.
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Scrooge and Marley's, I believe,said one of the gentlemen, referring to
his list. Have I the pleasureof addressing mister Scrooge or mister Marley.
Mister Marley has been dead these sevenyears, Scrooge replied, he died seven
years ago this very night. Wehave no doubt his liberality is well represented
by his surviving partner, said thegentleman presenting his credentials. It certainly was,
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for they had been two kindred spirits. At the ominous word liberality,
Scrooge frowned and shook his head,and handed the credentials back. At this
festive season of the year, misterScrooge said the gentleman, taking up a
pen, it is more unusually desirablethat we should make some slight provision for
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the poor and destitute who suffered greatlyat the present time. Many thousands are
in want of common necessaries. Hundredsof thousands are in want of common comforts.
Sir, are there no prisons,asked Scrooge. Plenty of prisons,
said the gentleman, laying down thepen again. And the union workhouses demanded
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Scrooge, are they still in operation? They are still, returned the gentleman.
I wish I could say they werenot. The treadmill and the poor
law are in full vigor, then, said Scrooge, both very busy.
Sir, oh, I was afraidfrom what you had said at first,
that something had occurred to stop themin their useful course. Said Scrooge.
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I'm very glad to hear it,under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian
cheer of mind or body to themultitude, returned the gentleman. A few
of us are endeavor to raise afund to buy the poor some meat and
drink and means of warmth. Wechoose this time because it is a time
of all others, when want iskeenly felt, and abundance rejoices. What
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shall I put you down for nothing? Scrooge replied, you wish to be
anonymous. I wish to be leftalone, said Scrooge. Since you ask
me what I wish, gentlemen,that is my answer. I don't make
merry myself at Christmas, and Ican't afford to make idle people merry.
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I help to support the establishments Ihave mentioned. They cost enough, and
those who are badly off must gothere. Many can't go there, and
many would rather die. If theywould rather die, said Scrooge, they
had better do it and decrease thesurplus population. Besides, excuse me,
I don't know that, but youmight know it, observed the gentleman.
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It's not my business, Scrooge returned, as enough for a man to understand
his own business and not to interferewith other peoples. Mine occupies me constantly.
Good afternoon, gentlemen. Seeing clearlythat it would be useless to pursue
their point, the gentleman withdrew.Scrooge resumed his labors with an improved opinion
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of himself, and in a morefacetious temper than was usual with him.
Meanwhile, the fog and darkness thickened, so that people ran about with flaring
lynks. Proffering their services to gobefore horses in carriages and conduct them on
their way. The ancient tower ofa church, whose gruff old bell was
always peeping slyly down at Scrooge outof a gothic window in the wall,
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became invisible and struck the hours andquarters in the clouds with tremulous vibrations,
afterwards, as if its teeth werechattering in its frozen head. Up there,
the cold became intense in the mainstreet. At the corner of the
court, some laborers were repairing thegas pipes and had lighted a great fire
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in a breezier, round which aparty of ragged men and boys were gathered,
warming their hands and winking their eyesbefore the blaze in rapture. The
water plug, being left in solitude, its overflowings sullenly congealed and turned to
misanthropic ice. The brightness of theshops, where holly sprigs and berries crackled
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in the lamp heat of the windowsmade pale faces ruddy as they passed.
Poulterers and grocer's trades became a splendidjoke, a glorious pageant with which it
was next to impossible to believe thatsuch dull principles as bargain and sale had
anything to do. The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Mansion
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House, gave orders to his fiftycooks and butlers to keep Christmas as the
Lord Mayor's household should. And eventhe little tailor, whom he had fined
five shillings on the previous Monday forbeing drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets,
stirred up tomorrow's pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and the baby
sallied out to buy the beef.Foggier yet and colder, piercing, searching,
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biting cold. If the good SaintDunstan had but nipped the evil spirit's
nose with a touch of such weatheras that, instead of using his familiar
weapons, then indeed he would haveroared to lusty purpose. The owner of
one scant young nose, gnawed andmumbled by the hungry cold as bones are
gnawed by dogs, stooped down atScrooge's keyhole to regale him with a Christmas
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carol. But at the first soundof God, bless you, marry gentle
men, may nothing you dismay Scroogeseized the ruler with such energy of action
that the singer fled in terror,leaving the keyhole to the fog and even
more congenial frost. At length,the hour of shutting up the counting house
arrived. With an ill will.Scrooge dismounted from his stool and tacitly admitted
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the fact to the expect clerk inthe tank, who instantly snuffed his candle
out and put on his hat.You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose,
said Scrooge, if quite convenient,sir. It's not convenient, said
Scrooge. And it's not fair.If I was to stop half a crown
for it, you'd think yourself illused. I'll be bound. The clerk
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smiled faintly, and yet said Scrooge, you don't think me ill used when
I pay a day's wages for nowork. The clerk observed that it was
only once a year. A poorexcuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty
fifth of December, said Scrooge,buttoning his greatcoat to the chin. But
I suppose you must have the wholeday be here all the earlier. Next
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morning, the clerk promised that hewould, and Scrooge walked out with a
growl. The office was closed ina twinkling, and the clerk, with
the long ends of his white comforterdangling below his waist, for he boasted
no greatcoat, went down a slideon Cornhill at the end of a lane
of boys twenty times in honor ofits being Christmas Eve, and then ran
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home to Camden Town as hard ashe could pelt to play at Lineman's buff
Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in hisusual melancholy tavern, and, having read
all the newspapers and beguiled the restof the evening with his banker's book,
went home to bed. He livedin chambers which had once belonged to his
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deceased partner. They were a gloomysuite of rooms in a lowering pile of
building up a yard where it hadso little business to be that one could
scarcely help fancying it must have runthere when it was a young house,
playing at hide and seek with otherhouses, and forgotten the way out again.
It was old enough now and drearyenough, for nobody lived in it
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but Scrooge, the other rooms beingall let out his offices. The yard
was so dark that even Scrooge,who knew its every stone, was fain
to grope with his hands. Thefog and frost so hung about the black
old gateway of the house that itseemed as if the genius of the weather
sat in mournful meditation on the threshold. Now it is a fact that there
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was nothing at all particular about theknocker on the door, except that it
was very large. It is alsoa fact that Scrooge had seen it night
and morning during his whole residence inthat place. Also that Scrooge had as
little of what is called fancy abouthim as any man in the city of
London, even including which is abold word, the corporation, Alderman and
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livery. Let it also be bornein mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one
thought on Marley since his last mentionof his seven years dead partner that afternoon.
And then let any man explain tome, if he can, how
it happened that Scrooge, having hiskey in the lock of the door,
saw in the knocker without its undergoingany intermediate process of change, not a
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knocker, but Marley's face. Marley'sface It was not in impenetrable shadow,
as the other objects in the yardwere, but had a dismal light about
it, like a bad lobster ina dark cellar. It was not angry
or ferocious, but looked at Scroogeas Marley used to look, with ghostly
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spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. The hair was curiously stirred, as
if by breath or hot air,and though the eyes were wide open,
they were perfectly motionless. That andits livid color made it horrible, But
its horror seemed to be in spiteof the face, and beyond its control,
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rather than a part of its ownexpression. As Scrooge looked fixedly at
this phenomenon, it was a knockeragain. To say that he was not
startled, or that his blood wasnot conscious of a terrible sensation to which
it had been a stranger from infancy, would be untrue. But he put
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his hand upon the key he hadrelinquished, turned it sturdily, walked in,
and lighted his candle. He didpause with a moment's irresolution before he
shut the door, and he didlook cautiously behind it first, as if
he half expected to be terrified,with the sight of Marley's pigtail sticking out
into the hall. But there wasnothing on the back of the door except
(23:38):
the screws and nuts that held theknocker on. So he said, pooh
pooh, and closed it with abang. The sound resounded through the house
like thunder. Every room above,and every cask in the wine merchant's cellars
below, appeared to have a separatepeal of echoes of its own. Scrooge
(23:59):
was not a man to be frightenedby echoes. He fastened the door and
walked across the hall and up thestairs, slowly, too, trimming his
candle as he went. You maytalk vaguely about driving a coach and six
up a good old flight of stairs, or through a bad young act of
Parliament, But I mean to sayyou might have got a hearse up that
(24:21):
staircase and taken it broadwise, withthe splinter bar towards the wall, and
the door towards the balustrades, anddone it easy. There was plenty of
width for that, and room tospare, which is perhaps the reason why
Scrooge thought he saw a locomotive hearsegoing on before him in the gloom.
Half a dozen gas lamps out ofthe street wouldn't have lighted the entry too
(24:41):
well, so you may suppose thatit was pretty dark with Scrooge's dip up.
Scrooge went not carrying a button,for that darkness is cheap, and
Scrooge liked it. But before heshut his heavy door, he walked through
his rooms to see that all wasright. He had just enough recollection of
(25:02):
the face to desire to do that. Sitting room, bedroom, lumber room,
all as they should be. Nobodyunder the table, nobody under the
sofa, a small fire in thegrate, spoon and basin ready, and
the little saucepan of gruel. Scroogehad a cold in his head upon the
(25:22):
hob Nobody under the bed, Nobodyin the closet, Nobody in his dressing
gown, which was hanging up ina suspicious attitude against the wall. Lumber
room as usual, old fire guard, old shoes, two fish baskets,
washing stand on three legs, anda poker. Quite satisfied, he closed
(25:45):
his door and locked himself in,double locked himself in, which was not
his custom. Thus secured against surprise, he took off his cravat, put
on his dressing gown, and slippersand his night cap, and sat down
before the fire to take his gruel. It was a very low fire,
indeed nothing on such a bitter night. He was obliged to sit close to
(26:10):
it and brood over it before hecould extract the least sensation of warmth from
such a handful of fuel. Thefireplace was an old one, built by
some Dutch merchant long ago, andpaved all round with quaint Dutch tiles designed
to illustrate the scriptures. There werecanes and abels, Pharaoh's daughters, queens
(26:30):
of Sheba, and jelic messengers descendingthrough the air on clouds like feather beds,
Abraham's Belshazzar's apostles putting off to seain butter boats. Hundreds of figures
to attract his thoughts, and yetthat face of Marley, seven years dead,
came like the ancient prophet's rod andswallowed up the whole. If each
(26:53):
smooth tile had been a blank atfirst, with power to shape some picture
on its surface from the disjointed fragmentof his thoughts, there would have been
a copy of old Marley's head onevery one. Humbug, said Scrooge,
and walked across the room. Afterseveral turns, he sat down again.
(27:14):
As he threw his head back inthe chair, his glance happened to rest
upon a bell, a disused bellthat hung in the room and communicated for
some purpose now forgotten, with achamber in the highest story of the building.
It was with great astonishment and witha strange, inexplicable dread, that
as he looked he saw this bellbegan to swing. It swung so softly
(27:40):
in the outset that it scarcely madea sound. But soon it rang out
loudly, and sow did every bellin the house. This might have lasted
half a minute or a minute,but it seemed an hour. The bells
ceased as they had begun together.They were succeeded by a clanking noise deep
(28:03):
down below, as if some personwere dragging a heavy chain over the casks
in the wine merchant's cellar. Scroogethen remembered to have heard that ghosts in
haunted houses were described as dragging chains. The cellar door flew open with a
booming sound, and then he heardthe noise much louder, on the floors
(28:25):
below, then coming up the stairs, then coming straight towards his door.
It's humbug, still, said Scrooge. I won't believe it. His color
changed, though, when without apause, it came on through the heavy
door and passed into the room beforehis eyes. Upon its coming in,
(28:51):
the dying flame leaped up as thoughit cried, I know him, Marley's
ghost, and fell again the sameface, the very same Marley in his
pig tail, usual waistcoat, tightsand boots, the tassels on the latter
bristling like his pigtail, and hiscoat skirts, and the hair upon his
(29:15):
head. The chain he drew wasclasped about his middle. It was long
and wound about him like a tail, and it was made for Scrooge observed
it closely, of cash boxes,keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds,
and heavy purses wrought in steel.His body was transparent, so that Scrooge,
(29:40):
observing him, and looking through hiswaistcoat, could see the two buttons
on his coat behind. Scrooge hadoften heard it said that Marley had no
bowels, but he had never believedit until now. No, nor did
he believe it even now, thoughhe looked the phantom through and through,
and saw it standing before him,though he felt the chilling influence of its
(30:03):
death cold eyes, and marked thevery texture of the folded kerchief bound about
its head and chin, which wrapperhe had not observed before. He was
still incredulous and fought against his senses. How now, said Scrooge, caustic
and cold as ever, What doyou want with me? Much Marley's voice,
(30:26):
No doubt about it? Who areyou? Ask me? Who I
was? Who were you? Then, said Scrooge, raising his voice.
You're particular for a shade. Hewas going to say, too, a
shade, but substituted this as moreappropriate in life. I was your partner,
(30:48):
Jacob Marley. Can you can yousit down? Asked Scrooge, looking
doubtfully at him. I can doit, then. Scrooge asked the question
because he didn't know whether a ghostso transparent might find himself in a condition
to take a chair, and feltthat in the event of its being impossible,
(31:12):
it might involve the necessity of anembarrassing explanation. But the ghost sat
down on the opposite side of thefireplace as if he were quite used to
it. You don't believe in me, observed the ghost. I don't,
said Scrooge. What evidence would youhave of my reality beyond that of your
(31:33):
senses? I don't know, saidScrooge. Why do you doubt your senses?
Because, said Scrooge, a littlething affects them. A slight disorder
of the stomach makes them cheats.You may be an undigested bit of beef,
a blot of mustard, a crumbof cheese, a fragment of an
(31:55):
underdone potato. There's more of gravythan of grave about you, whatever you
are. Scrooge was not much inthe habit of cracking jokes, nor did
he feel in his heart by anymeans waggish. Then the truth is that
he tried to be smart as ameans of distracting his own attention and keeping
down his terror. For the specter'svoice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.
(32:20):
To sit staring at those fixed glazedeyes in silence for a moment would
play, Scrooge felt the very deucewith him. There was something very awful
too, in the Specter's being providedwith an infernal atmosphere of its own.
Scrooge could not feel it himself,but this was clearly the case, for
though the ghost sat perfectly motionless,its hair and skirts and tassels were still
(32:45):
agitated, as by the hot vaporfrom an oven. You see this,
tooth pick, said Scrooge, returningquickly to the charge for the reason just
assigned, and wishing, though itwere only for a second, to divert
the vision's stony gaze from himself.I do, replied the ghost. You
(33:07):
are not looking at it, saidScrooge. But I see it, said
the ghost. Notwithstanding well, returnedScrooge. I have but to swallow this
and be for the rest of mydays persecuted by a legion of goblins,
all of my own creation. Humbug, I tell you, humbug. At
(33:28):
this, the spirit raised a frightfulcry and shook its chain with such a
dismal and appalling noise that Scrooge heldon tight to his chair to save himself
from falling in a swoon. Buthow much greater was his horror when the
phantom, taking off the bandage roundits head, as if it were too
warm to wherein doors, its lowerjaw dropped down upon its breast. Scrooge
(33:53):
fell upon his knees and clasped hishands before his face. Mercy, he
said, dreadful apparition, Why doyou trouble me? Man of the worldly
mind, replied the ghost. Doyou believe in me or not? I
do, said Scrooge, I must, But why do spirits walk the earth?
(34:15):
And why do they come to me? It is required of every man.
The ghost returned that the spirit withinhim should walk abroad among his fellow
men, and travel far and wide. And if that spirit goes not forth
in life, it is condemned todo so. After death, it is
(34:37):
doomed to wander through the world.Ho woe is me, and witness what
it cannot share but might have sharedon earth? And turned to happiness again.
The specter raised a cry and shookits chain and wrung its shadowy hands.
You are fettered, said Scrooge,trembling. Tell me why I wear
(35:01):
the chain I forged in life,replied the ghost. I made it link
by link and yard by yard.I girded it on of my own free
will, and of my own freewill I wore it. Is its pattern
strange to you. Scrooge trembled moreand more, or would you know,
(35:24):
pursued the ghost. The weight andlength of the strong coil you bear yourself.
It was full, as heavy andas long as this seven Christmas eves
ago. You have labored on it, since it is a ponderous chain.
Scrooge glanced about him on the floorin the expectation of finding himself surrounded by
(35:45):
some fifty or sixty fathoms of ironcable. But he could see nothing.
Jacob, he said, imploringly,Old Jacob Marley, tell me more.
Speak comfort to me, Jacob,I have none to give, the ghost
replied. It comes from other regions, a Benezer Scrooge, and is conveyed
(36:07):
by other ministers to other kinds ofmen. Nor can I tell you what
I would? A very little moreis all permitted to me. I cannot
rest, I cannot stay, Icannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walked
beyond our counting house mark me inlife. My spirit never roved beyond the
(36:29):
narrow limits of our money. Changingwhole and weary journeys lie before me.
It was a habit with Scrooge.Whenever he became thoughtful to put his hands
in his breeches pockets, pondering onwhat the ghost had said. He did
so now, but without lifting uphis eyes or getting off his knees.
(36:51):
You must have been very slow aboutit. Jacob Scrooge observed in a business
like manner, though with humility anddeference. Slow, Oh, the ghost
repeated. Seven years dead, musedScrooge, And traveling all the time the
whole time, said the ghost.No rest, no peace, incessant torture
(37:14):
of remorse. You travel fast,said Scrooge. On the wings of the
wind, replied the ghost. Youmight have got over a great quantity of
ground in seven years, said Scrooge. The ghost, on hearing this,
set up another cry and clanked itschain so hideously in the dead silence of
(37:37):
the night that the ward would havebeen justified in indicting it for a nuisance.
Oh, captive, bound and doubleironed, cried the phantom. Not
to know that ages of incessant laborby immortal creatures for this earth must pass
into eternity before the good of whichit is susceptible is all developed. Not
(37:57):
to know that any Christian spirit,working kindly in its little sphere, whatever
it may be, will find itsmortal life too short for its vast means
of usefulness. Not to know thatno space of regret can make amends for
one life's opportunity misused. Yet suchwas I, Oh, such was I,
(38:19):
But you were always a good manof business. Jacob faltered Scrooge,
who now began to apply this tohimself business, cried the ghost, bringing
its hands again. Mankind was mybusiness. The common welfare was my business.
Charity, mercy, forbearance, andbenevolence were all my business. The
dealings of my trade were but adrop of water in the comprehensive ocean of
(38:45):
my business. It held up itschain at arm's length, as if that
were the cause of all its unavailinggrief, and flung it heavily upon the
ground again. At this time,I am of the rolling year, the
specter said, I suffer most.Why did I walk through crowds of fellow
(39:07):
beings with my eyes turned down andnever raise them to that blessed star which
led the wise men to a poorabode? Were there no poor homes to
which its light would have conducted me? Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear
the specter going on at this rate, and began to quake exceedingly hear me,
(39:27):
cried the ghost. My time isnearly gone, I will, said
Scrooge, But don't be hard uponme. Don't be flowery Jacob, pray,
how it is that I appear beforeyou in a shape that you can
see? I may not tell Ihave sat invisible beside you many and many
(39:47):
a day. It was not anagreeable idea. Scrooge shivered and wiped the
perspiration from his brow. That isno light part of my penance, pursued
the ghost. I am here tonightto warn you that you have yet a
chance in hope of escaping my feet, A chance and hope of my procuring.
(40:09):
Ebenezer, you are always a goodfriend to me, said Scrooge.
Thank ye, you will be haunted, resumed the ghost by three spirits.
Scrooge's countenance fell almost as low asthe ghosts had done. Is that the
(40:30):
chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob, he demanded in a faltering voice.
It is I I think I'd rathernot, said Scrooge. Without their visits,
said the ghost, You cannot hopeto shun the path I tread.
Expect the first tomorrow when the belltolls. One couldn't I take'em all
(40:55):
at once and have it over,Jacob hinted Scrooge. Expect the second on
the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night,
when the last stroke of twelve hasceased to vibrate, look to see me
no more, and look that foryour own sake, you remember what has
passed between us. When it hadsaid these words, the Specter took its
(41:20):
wrapper from the table and bound itround its head as before. Scrooge knew
this by the smart sound its teethmade when the jaws were brought together by
the bandage. He ventured to raisehis eyes again and found his supernatural visitor
confronting him in an erect attitude.With its chain wound over and about its
(41:42):
arm. The apparition walked backward fromhim, and at every step it took,
the window raised itself a little,so that when the Specter reached it,
it was wide open. It beckonedScrooge to approach, which he did.
When they were within two paces ofeach other. Marley's ghost held up
its hand, warning him to comeno nearer. Scrooge stopped, not so
(42:08):
much in obedience as in surprise andfear, for on the raising of the
hand he became sensible of confused noisesin the air, incoherent sounds of lamentation
and regret, wailings inexpressibly sorrowful andself accusatory. The specter, after listening
(42:28):
for a moment, joined in themournful dirge, and floated out upon the
bleak, dark night. Scrooge followedto the window, desperate in his curiosity.
He looked out. The air wasfilled with phantoms, wandering hither and
thither in restless haste, and moaningas they went. Every one of them
(42:51):
wore chains like Marley's ghost. Somefew they might be guilty governments were linked
together. None were. Many hadbeen personally known to Scrooge in their lives.
He had been quite familiar with oneold ghost in a white waistcoat with
a monstrous iron safe attached to itsankle, who cried piteously at being unable
(43:15):
to assist a wretched woman with aninfant, whom it saw below upon a
doorstep. The misery with them allwas clearly that they sought to interfere for
good in human matters, and hadlost the power forever. Whether these creatures
faded into mist or mist enshrouded them, he could not tell. But they
(43:37):
and their spirit voices faded together,and the night became as it had been
when he walked home. Scrooge closedthe window and examined the door by which
the ghost had entered. It wasdouble locked, as he had locked it
with his own hands, and thebolts were undisturbed. He tried to say
(44:00):
humbug, but stopped at the firstsyllable, and, being from the emotion
he had undergone, or the fatiguesof the day, or his glimpse of
the invisible world, or the dullconversation of the ghost, or the lateness
of the hour, much in needof repose, went straight to bed without
undressing, and fell asleep upon theinstant end of Stave one, recorded November
(44:29):
twenty third, two thousand five,in Longmont, Colorado,
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