He did pause, with a moment's irresolution, before he shut the door;
and he did look 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 was nothing on the back of the door, except the screws and nuts that
held the knocker on, so he said `Pooh, pooh!' and closed it with a bang.
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 separate peal of echoes of its own. Scrooge was not a man to be
frightened by echoes. He fastened the door, and walked across the hall,
and up the stairs; slowly too: trimming his candle as he went.
You may talk 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
say you might have got a hearse up that staircase, and taken it broadwise,
with the splinter-bar towards the wall and the door towards the balustrades:
and done it easy. There was plenty of width for that, and room to spare;
which is perhaps the reason why Scrooge thought he saw a locomotive
hearse going on before him in the gloom. Half a dozen gas-lamps out of
the street wouldn't have lighted the entry too well, so you may suppose
that it was pretty dark with Scrooge's dip.
Up Scrooge went, not caring a button for that. Darkness is cheap, and
Scrooge liked it. But before he shut his heavy door, he walked through his
rooms to see that all was right. He had just enough recollection of the
face to desire to do that.
Sitting-room, bedroom, lumber-room. All as they should be. Nobody
under the table, nobody under the sofa; a small fire in the grate; spoon and
basin ready; and the little saucepan of gruel (Scrooge had a cold in his
head) upon the hob. Nobody under the bed; nobody in the closet; nobody
in his dressing-gown, which was hanging up in a suspicious attitude
against the wall. Lumber-room as usual. Old fire-guards, old shoes, two
fish-baskets, washing-stand on three legs, and a poker.
Quite satisfied, he closed his door, and locked himself in; double-
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locked himself in, which was not his custom. Thus secured against
surprise, he took off his cravat; put on his dressing-gown and slippers, and
his nightcap; 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 it, and brood over it, before he could extract the least
sensation of warmth from such a handful of fuel. The fireplace was an
old one, built by some Dutch merchant long ago, and paved all round
with quaint Dutch tiles, designed to illustrate the Scriptures. There were
Cains and Abels, Pharaohs' daughters; Queens of Sheba, Angelic
messengers descending through the air on clouds like feather-beds,
Abrahams, Belshazzars, Apostles putting off to sea in butter-boats,
hundreds of figures to attract his thoughts -- and yet that face of Marley,
seven years dead, came like the ancient Prophet's rod, and swallowed up
the whole. If each smooth tile had been a blank at first, with power to
shape some picture on its surface from the disjointed fragments of his
thoughts, there would have been a copy of old Marley's head on every one.
`Humbug!' said Scrooge; and walked across the room.
After several turns, he sat down again. As he threw his head back in
the chair, his glance happened to rest upon a bell, a disused bell, that hung
in the room, and communicated for some purpose now forgotten with a
chamber in the highest story of the building. It was with great
astonishment, and with a strange, inexplicable dread, that as he looked, he
saw this bell begin to swing. It swung so softly in the outset that it scarcely
made a sound; but soon it rang out loudly, and so did every bell in 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 down below; as if some person were dragging
a heavy chain over the casks in the wine merchant's cellar. Scrooge then
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 heard
the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then
coming straight towards his door.
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`It's humbug still!' said Scrooge. `I won't believe it.'
His colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through
the heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes. Upon its coming
in, the dying flame leaped up, as though it cried `I know him; Marley's
Ghost!' and fell again.
The same face: the very same. Marley in his pigtail, usual waistcoat,
tights and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, like his pigtail, and his
coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head. The chain he drew was clasped
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, observing him, and looking through his
waistcoat, could see the two buttons on his coat behind.
Scrooge had often heard it said that Marley had no bowels, but he had
never believed it until now.
No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the phantom
through and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the
chilling influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of
the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had
not observed before; he was still incredulous, and fought against his
senses.
`How now!' said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. `What do you want
with me?'
`Much!' -- Marley's voice, no doubt about it.
`Who are you?'
`Ask me who I was.'
`Who were you then?' said Scrooge, raising his voice. `You're
particular, for a shade.' He was going to say `to a shade,' but substituted
this, as more appropriate.
`In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley.'
`Can you -- can you sit down?' asked Scrooge, looking doubtfully at
him.
`I can.'
`Do it, then.'
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Scrooge asked the question, because he didn't know whether a ghost so
transparent might find himself in a condition to take a chair; and felt that
in the event of its being impossible, it might involve the necessity of an
embarrassing explanation. But the ghost sat down on the opposite side of
the fireplace, 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 you have of my reality beyond that of your
senses?'
`I don't know,' said Scrooge.
`Why do you doubt your senses?'
`Because,' said Scrooge, `a little thing affects them. A slight disorder
of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef,
a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.
There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!'
Scrooge was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did he feel,
in his heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is, that he tried to be
smart, as a means of distracting his own attention, and keeping down his
terror; for the spectre's voice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.
To sit, staring at those fixed glazed eyes, in silence for a moment,
would play, Scrooge felt, the very deuce with him. There was something
very awful, too, in the spectre's being provided with 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 agitated as by the hot vapour from an oven.
`You see this toothpick?' said Scrooge, returning quickly to the charge,
for the reason just assigned; and wishing, though it were only for a second,
to divert the vision's stony gaze from himself.
`I do,' replied the Ghost.
`You are not looking at it,' said Scrooge.
`But I see it,' said the Ghost, `notwithstanding.'
`Well!' returned Scrooge, `I have but to swallow this, and be for the
rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, all of my own creation.
Humbug, I tell you! humbug!'
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At this the spirit raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain with such a
dismal and appalling noise, that Scrooge held on tight to his chair, to save
himself from falling in a swoon. But how much greater was his horror,
when the phantom taking off the bandage round its head, as if it were too
warm to wear indoors, its lower jaw dropped down upon its breast!
Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face.
`Mercy!' he said. `Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?'
`Man of the worldly mind!' replied the Ghost, `do you believe in me or
not?'
`I do,' said Scrooge. `I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and
why do they come to me?'
`It is required of every man,' the Ghost returned, `that the spirit within
him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide;
and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death.
It is doomed to wander through the world -- oh, woe is me! -- and witness
what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to
happiness!'
Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain and wrung its
shadowy hands.
`You are fettered,' said Scrooge, trembling. `Tell me why?'
`I wear 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
free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?'
Scrooge trembled more and more.
`Or would you know,' pursued the Ghost, `the weight and length of the
strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this,
seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a
ponderous chain!'
Scrooge glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding
himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable: 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,
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Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyed by other ministers, to other kinds of
men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more, is all permitted to
me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere. My spirit never
walked beyond our counting-house -- mark me! -- in life my spirit never
roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole; 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 on what the Ghost had said, he
did so now, but without lifting up his eyes, or getting off his knees.
`You must have been very slow about it, Jacob,' Scrooge observed, in a
business-like manner, though with humility and deference.
`Slow!' the Ghost repeated.
`Seven years dead,' mused Scrooge. `And travelling all the time!'
`The whole time,' said the Ghost. `No rest, no peace. Incessant torture
of remorse.'
`You travel fast?' said Scrooge.
`On the wings of the wind,' replied the Ghost.
`You might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven years,'
said Scrooge.
The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked its chain so
hideously in the dead silence of the night, that the Ward would have been
justified in indicting it for a nuisance.
`Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed,' cried the phantom, `not to
know, that ages of incessant labour, by immortal creatures, for this earth
must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all
developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little
sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast
means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make
amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was
I!'
`But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,' faltered Scrooge,
who now began to apply this to himself.
`Business!' cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. `Mankind was
my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy,
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forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of
my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my
business!'
It held up its chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause of all its
unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again.
`At this time of the rolling year,' the spectre said `I suffer most. Why
did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down,
and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor
abode! Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted
me!'
Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on at this
rate, and began to quake exceedingly.
`Hear me!' cried the Ghost. `My time is nearly gone.'
`I will,' said Scrooge. `But don't be hard upon me! Don't be flowery,
Jacob! Pray!' `How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you
can see, I may not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and many a
day.'
It was not an agreeable idea. Scrooge shivered, and wiped the
perspiration from his brow.
`That is no light part of my penance,' pursued the Ghost. `I am here
to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my
fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer.'
`You were always a good friend to me,' said Scrooge. `Thank `ee!'
`You will be haunted,' resumed the Ghost, `by Three Spirits.'
Scrooge's countenance fell almost as low as the Ghost's had done.
`Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob?' he demanded, in a
faltering voice.
`It is.'
`I -- I think I'd rather not,' said Scrooge.
`Without their visits,' said the Ghost, `you cannot hope to shun the path
I tread. Expect the first tomorrow, when the bell tolls One.'
`Couldn't I take `em all at once, and have it over, Jacob?' hinted
Scrooge.
`Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon
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the next night when the last stroke of Twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look
to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what
has passed between us!'
When it had said these words, the spectre took its wrapper from the
table, and bound it round its head, as before. Scrooge knew this, by the
smart sound its teeth made, when the jaws were brought together by the
bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes again, and found his supernatural
visitor confronting him in an erect attitude, with its chain wound over and
about its arm.
The apparition walked backward from him; and at every step it took,
the window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it was
wide open. It beckoned Scrooge to approach, which he did. When they
were within two paces of each other, Marley's Ghost held up its hand,
warning him to come no nearer. Scrooge stopped.
Not so much in obedience, as in surprise and fear: for on the raising of
the hand, he became sensible of confused noises in the air; incoherent
sounds of lamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and
self-accusatory. The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in the
mournful dirge; and floated out upon the bleak, dark night.
Scrooge followed to the window: desperate in his curiosity. He looked
out.
The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither in
restless haste, and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains
like Marley's Ghost; some few (they might be guilty governments) were
linked together; none were free. Many had been personally known to
Scrooge in their lives. He had been quite familiar with one old ghost, in a
white waistcoat, with a monstrous iron safe attached to its ankle, who
cried piteously at being unable to assist a wretched woman with an infant,
whom it saw below, upon a door-step. The misery with them all was,
clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters, and had
lost the power for ever.
Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mist enshrouded them, he
could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded together; and the night
became as it had been when he walked home.
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Scrooge closed the window, and examined the door by which the
Ghost had entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it with his
own hands, and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say `Humbug!'
but stopped at the first syllable. And being, from the emotion he had
undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World,
or the dull conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in
need of repose; went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep
upon the instant.
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Stave 2: The First of the Three
Spirits
When Scrooge awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, he could
scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his
chamber. He was endeavouring to pierce the darkness with his ferret eyes,
when the chimes of a neighbouring church struck the four quarters. So he
listened for the hour.
To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to seven,
and from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then stopped. Twelve.
It was past two when he went to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must
have got into the works. Twelve.
He touched the spring of his repeater, to correct this most preposterous
clock. Its rapid little pulse beat twelve: and stopped.
`Why, it isn't possible,' said Scrooge, `that I can have slept through a
whole day and far into another night. It isn't possible that anything has
happened to the sun, and this is twelve at noon.'
The idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of bed, and groped
his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost off with the sleeve
of his dressing-gown before he could see anything; and could see very
little then. All he could make out was, that it was still very foggy and
extremely cold, and that there was no noise of people running to and fro,
and making a great stir, as there unquestionably would have been if night
had beaten off bright day, and taken possession of the world. This was a
great relief, because "Three days after sight of this First of Exchange pay
to Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge on his order," and so forth, would have become a
mere United States security if there were no days to count by.
Scrooge went to bed again, and thought, and thought, and thought it
over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought, the
more perplexed he was; and, the more he endeavoured not to think, the
more he thought.
Marley's Ghost bothered him exceedingly. Every time he resolved
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within himself, after mature inquiry that it was all a dream, his mind flew
back again, like a strong spring released, to its first position, andpresented
the same problem to be worked all through, "Was it a dream or not?"
Scrooge lay in this state until the chime had gone three-quarters more,
when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost hadwarned him of a
visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved to lie awake until the
hour was passed; and, considering that he could no more go to sleep than
go to heaven, this was, perhaps, the wisest resolution in his power.
The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced he
must have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the clock. At
