a christmas carol(圣诞赞歌)-5

hopeful promise of the day, that they tumbled up against each other at thedoor, crashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases uponthe counter, and came running back to fetch them, and committedhundreds of the like mistakes, in the best humour possible; while theGrocer and his people were so frank and fresh that the polished hearts withwhich they fastened their aprons behind might have been their own, wornoutside for general inspection, and for Christmas daws to peck at if theychose.But soon the steeples called good people all, to church and chapel, andaway they came, flocking through the streets in their best clothes, and withtheir gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores of bye-streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people, carrying theirdinners to the baker' shops. The sight of these poor revellers appeared tointerest the Spirit very much, for he stood with Scrooge beside him in abaker's doorway, and taking off the covers as their bearers passed,sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. And it was a veryuncommon kind of torch, for once or twice when there were angry wordsbetween some dinner-carriers who had jostled each other, he shed a fewdrops of water on them from it, and their good humour was restoreddirectly. For they said, it was a shame to quarrel upon Christmas Day. And40--------------------------------------- 41A CHRISTMAS CAROLso it was. God love it, so it was.In time the bells ceased, and the bakers were shut up; and yet therewas a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and the progress of theircooking, in the thawed blotch of wet above each baker's oven; where thepavement smoked as if its stones were cooking too.`Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your torch.'asked Scrooge.`There is. My own.'`Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day.' asked Scrooge.`To any kindly given. To a poor one most.'`Why to a poor one most.' asked Scrooge.`Because it needs it most.'`Spirit,' said Scrooge, after a moment's thought,' I wonder you, of allthe beings in the many worlds about us, should desire to cramp thesepeople's opportunities of innocent enjoyment.'`I.' cried the Spirit.`You would deprive them of their means of dining every seventh day,often the only day on which they can be said to dine at all,' said Scrooge.`Wouldn't you.'`I.' cried the Spirit.`You seek to close these places on the Seventh Day.' said Scrooge.`And it comes to the same thing.'`I seek.' exclaimed the Spirit.`Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name, or at leastin that of your family,' said Scrooge.`There are some upon this earth of yours,' returned the Spirit,' who layclaim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred,envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us and allout kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and chargetheir doings on themselves, not us.'Scrooge promised that he would; and they went on, invisible, as theyhad been before, into the suburbs of the town. It was a remarkable qualityof the Ghost (which Scrooge had observed at the baker's), thatnotwithstanding his gigantic size, he could accommodate himself to any41--------------------------------------- 42A CHRISTMAS CAROLplace with ease; and that he stood beneath a low roof quite as gracefullyand like a supernatural creature, as it was possible he could have done inany lofty hall.And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had in showing off thispower of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, hearty nature, and hissympathy with all poor men, that led him straight to Scrooge's clerk's; forthere he went, and took Scrooge with him, holding to his robe; and on thethreshold of the door the Spirit smiled, and stopped to bless Bob Cratchit'sdwelling with the sprinkling of his torch. Think of that. Bob had butfifteen bob a-week himself; he pocketed on Saturdays but fifteen copies ofhis Christian name; and yet the Ghost of Christmas Present blessed hisfour-roomed house.Then up rose Mrs Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but poorly in atwice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make agoodly show for sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by BelindaCratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while MasterPeter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting thecorners of his monstrous shirt collar (Bob's private property, conferredupon his son and heir in honour of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced to findhimself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in thefashionable Parks. And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, cametearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the e thebaker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their own; and baskingin luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, these young Cratchits dancedabout the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he(not proud, although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, until theslow potatoes bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let outand peeled.`What has ever got your precious father then.' said Mrs Cratchit.`And your brother, Tiny Tim. And Martha warn't as late last ChristmasDay by half-an-hour.'`Here's Martha, mother.' said a girl, appearing as she spoke.`Here's Martha, mother.' cried the two young Cratchits. `Hurrah.There's such a goose, Martha.'42--------------------------------------- 43A CHRISTMAS CAROL`Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are.' said MrsCratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnetfor her with officious zeal.`We'd a deal of work to finish up last night,' replied the girl,' and had toclear away this morning, mother.'`Well. Never mind so long as you are come,' said Mrs Cratchit. `Sit yedown before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye.'`No, no. There's father coming,' cried the two young Cratchits, whowere everywhere at once. `Hide, Martha, hide.'So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at leastthree feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him;and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; andTiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, andhad his limbs supported by an iron frame.`Why, where's our Martha.' cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.`Not coming,' said Mrs Cratchit.`Not coming.' said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits;for he had been Tim's blood horse all the way from church, and had comehome rampant. `Not coming upon Christmas Day.'Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; soshe came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into hisarms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him offinto the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.`And how did little Tim behave. asked Mrs Cratchit, when she hadrallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to hisheart's content.`As good as gold,' said Bob,' and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful,sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard.He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church,because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to rememberupon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see.'Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled morewhen he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny43--------------------------------------- 44A CHRISTMAS CAROLTim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister tohis stool before the fire; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs -- as if, poorfellow, they were capable of being made more shabby -- compoundedsome hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round andround and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter, and the twoubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soonreturned in high procession.Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest ofall birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter ofcourse -- and in truth it was something very like it in that house. MrsCratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot;Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belindasweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob tookTiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young Cratchitsset chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guardupon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they shouldshriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At last the disheswere set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, asMrs Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared toplunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when the long expected gushof stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board,and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the tablewith the handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah.There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there everwas such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness,were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce andmashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, asMrs Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a boneupon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last. Yet every one had had enough,and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were steeped in sage and onion tothe eyebrows. But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, MrsCratchit left the room alone -- too nervous to bear witnesses -- to take thepudding up and bring it in.Suppose it should not be done enough. Suppose it should break in44--------------------------------------- 45A CHRISTMAS CAROLturning out. Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose -- a suppositionat which the two young Cratchits became livid. All sorts of horrors weresupposed.Hallo. A great deal of steam. The pudding was out of the copper. Asmell like a washing-day. That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-houseand a pastrycook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door tothat. That was the pudding. In half a minute Mrs Cratchit entered --flushed, but smiling proudly -- with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited brandy,and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.Oh, a wonderful pudding. Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that heregarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs Cratchit since theirmarriage. Mrs Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, shewould confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour.Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought itwas at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flatheresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept,and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, andconsidered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and ashovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drewround the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one;and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass. Twotumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as goldengoblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, whilethe chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bobproposed:`A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us.'Which all the family re-echoed.`God bless us every one.' said Tiny Tim, the last of all.He sat very close to his father's side upon his little stool. Bob held hiswithered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to keep45--------------------------------------- 46A CHRISTMAS CAROLhim by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.`Spirit,' said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before, `tell meif Tiny Tim will live.'`I see a vacant seat,' replied the Ghost, `in the poor chimney-corner,and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadowsremain unaltered by the Future, the child will die.'`No, no,' said Scrooge. `Oh, no, kind Spirit. say he will be spared.'`If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of myrace,' returned the Ghost, `will find him here. What then. If he be like todie, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.'Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, andwas overcome with penitence and grief. `Man,' said the Ghost, `if man yoube in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you havediscovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what menshall live, what men shall die. It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, youare more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man'schild. Oh God. to hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too muchlife among his hungry brothers in the dust.'Scrooge bent before the Ghost's rebuke, and trembling cast his eyesupon the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hearing his own name.`Mr Scrooge.' said Bob; `I'll give you Mr Scrooge, the Founder of theFeast.'`The Founder of the Feast indeed.' cried Mrs Cratchit, reddening. `Iwish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and Ihope he'd have a good appetite for it.'`My dear,' said Bob, `the children. Christmas Day.'`It should be Christmas Day, I am sure,' said she, `on which one drinksthe health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr Scrooge.You know he is, Robert. Nobody knows it better than you do, poor fellow.'`My dear,' was Bob's mild answer, `Christmas Day.'`I'll drink his health for your sake and the Day's,' said Mrs Cratchit,`not for his. Long life to him. A merry Christmas and a happy new year.He'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt.'The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their46--------------------------------------- 47A CHRISTMAS CAROLproceedings which had no heartiness. Tiny Tim drank it last of all, but hedidn't care twopence for it. Scrooge was the Ogre of the family. Themention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party, which was notdispelled for full five minutes.After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than before,from the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done with. Bob Cratchittold them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Peter, which wouldbring in, if obtained, full five-and-sixpence weekly. The two youngCratchits laughed tremendously at the idea of Peter's being a man ofbusiness; and Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from betweenhis collars, as if he were deliberating what particular investments heshould favour when he came into the receipt of that bewildering income.Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner's, then told them whatkind of work she had to do, and how many hours she worked at a stretch,and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morning for a good long rest; to-morrow being a holiday she passed at home. Also how she had seen acountess and a lord some days before, and how the lord was much aboutas tall as Peter;' at which Peter pulled up his collars so high that youcouldn't have seen his head if you had been there. All this time thechestnuts and the jug went round and round; and by-and-bye they had asong, about a lost child travelling in the snow, from Tiny Tim, who had aplaintive little voice, and sang it very well indeed.There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a handsomefamily; they were not well dressed; their shoes were far from being water-proof; their clothes were scanty; and Peter might have known, and verylikely did, the inside of a pawnbroker's. But, they were happy, grateful,pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and when theyfaded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit's torchat parting, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny Tim,until the last.By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty heavily; and asScrooge and the Spirit went along the streets, the brightness of the roaringfires in kitchens, parlours, and all sorts of rooms, was wonderful. Here, theflickering of the blaze showed preparations for a cosy dinner, with hot47--------------------------------------- 48A CHRISTMAS CAROLplates baking through and through before the fire, and deep red curtains,ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness. There all the children ofthe house were running out into the snow to meet their married sisters,brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and be the first to greet them. Here, again,were shadows on the window-blind of guests assembling; and there agroup of handsome girls, all hooded and fur-booted, and all chattering atonce, tripped lightly off to some near neighbour's house; where, woe uponthe single man who saw them enter -- artful witches, well they knew it --in a glow.But, if you had judged from the numbers of people on their way tofriendly gatherings, you might have thought that no one was at home togive them welcome when they got there, instead of every house expectingcompany, and piling up its fires half-chimney high. Blessings on it, howthe Ghost exulted. How it bared its breadth of breast, and opened itscapacious palm, and floated on, outpouring, with a generous hand, itsbright and harmless mirth on everything within its reach. The verylamplighter, who ran on before, dotting the dusky street with specks oflight, and who was dressed to spend the evening somewhere, laughed outloudly as the Spirit passed, though little kenned the lamplighter that he hadany company but Christmas.And now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, they stood upona bleak and desert moor, where monstrous masses of rude stone were castabout, as though it were the burial-place of giants; and water spread itselfwheresoever it listed, or would have done so, but for the frost that held itprisoner; and nothing grew but moss and furze, and coarse rank grass.Down in the west the setting sun had left a streak of fiery red, whichglared upon the desolation for an instant, like a sullen eye, and frowninglower, lower, lower yet, was lost in the thick gloom of darkest night.`What place is this.' asked Scrooge.`A place where Miners live, who labour in the bowels of the earth,'returned the Spirit. `But they know me. See.'Alight shone from the window of a hut, and swiftly they advancedtowards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, they found acheerful company assembled round a glowing fire. An old, old man and48--------------------------------------- 49A CHRISTMAS CAROLwoman, with their children and their children's children, and anothergeneration beyond that, all decked out gaily in their holiday attire. The oldman, in a voice that seldom rose above the howling of the wind upon thebarren waste, was singing them a Christmas song -- it had been a veryold song when he was a boy -- and from time to time they all joined in thechorus. So surely as they raised their voices, the old man got quite blitheand loud; and so surely as they stopped, his vigour sank again.The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold his robe, andpassing on above the moor, sped -- whither. Not to sea. To sea. ToScrooge's horror, looking back, he saw the last of the land, a frightfulrange of rocks, behind them; and his ears were deafened by the thunderingof water, as it rolled and roared, and raged among the dreadful caverns ithad worn, and fiercely tried to undermine the earth.Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some league or so fromshore, on which the waters chafed and dashed, the wild year through, therestood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of sea-weed clung to its base, andstorm-birds -- born of the wind one might suppose, as sea-weed of thewater -- rose and fell about it, like the waves they skimmed.But even here, two men who watched the light had made a fire, thatthrough the loophole in the thick stone wall shed out a ray of brightness onthe awful sea. Joining their horny hands over the rough table at which theysat, they wished each other Merry Christmas in their can of grog; and oneof them: the elder, too, with his face all damaged and scarred with hardweather, as the figure-head of an old ship might be: struck up a sturdysong that was like a Gale in itself.Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea -- on, on --until, being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on aship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the look-out in thebow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their severalstations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had aChristmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of somebygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And everyman on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder word foranother on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared to some49