Classic · A Christmas Carol · Charles Dickens · 1843 · 6:06

A Christmas Carol · Stave One (Part 3)

A Christmas Carol, Stave One unabridged: “Are there no prisons?” Scrooge sends the charity collectors away and grudges Bob Cratchit his Christmas Day.

NarratorEbenezer ScroogeThe portly gentlemanBob Cratchit, Scrooge’s clerk

The portly gentlemanAt this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge,said the gentleman, taking up a pen,The portly gentlemanit is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.Ebenezer ScroogeAre there no prisons?asked Scrooge.The portly gentlemanPlenty of prisons,said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.Ebenezer ScroogeAnd the Union workhouses?demanded Scrooge.Ebenezer ScroogeAre they still in operation?The portly gentlemanThey are. Still,returned the gentleman,The portly gentleman嘆氣I wish I could say they were not.Ebenezer ScroogeThe Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?said Scrooge.The portly gentlemanBoth very busy, sir.Ebenezer Scrooge譏諷Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course,said Scrooge.Ebenezer ScroogeI'm very glad to hear it.The portly gentlemanUnder the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude,returned the gentleman,The portly gentlemana few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?Ebenezer ScroogeNothing!Scrooge replied.The portly gentlemanYou wish to be anonymous?Ebenezer ScroogeI wish to be left alone,said Scrooge.Ebenezer ScroogeSince you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned—they cost enough; and those who are badly off must go there.The portly gentlemanMany can't go there; and many would rather die.Ebenezer Scrooge冷淡If they would rather die,said Scrooge,Ebenezer Scroogethey had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides—excuse me—I don't know that.The portly gentlemanBut you might know it,observed the gentleman.Ebenezer ScroogeIt's not my business,Scrooge returned.Ebenezer ScroogeIt's enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point, the gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed his labours with an improved opinion of himself, and in a more facetious temper than was usual with him.Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so, that people ran about with flaring links, proffering their services to go before horses in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slily down at Scrooge out of a Gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there. The cold became intense.In the main street, at the corner of the court, some labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered: warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture. The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowings sullenly congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice. The brightness of the shops where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the lamp heat of the windows, made pale faces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers' and grocers' trades became a splendid joke: a glorious pageant, with which it was next to impossible to believe that such dull principles as bargain and sale had anything to do.The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Mansion House, gave orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep Christmas as a Lord Mayor's household should; and even the little tailor, whom he had fined five shillings on the previous Monday for being drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred up to-morrow's pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef.Foggier yet, and colder. Piercing, searching, biting cold. If the good Saint Dunstan had but nipped the Evil Spirit's nose with a touch of such weather as that, instead of using his familiar weapons, then indeed he would have roared to lusty purpose. The owner of one scant young nose, gnawed and mumbled by the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by dogs, stooped down at Scrooge's keyhole to regale him with a Christmas carol: but at the first sound of"God bless you, merry gentleman! May nothing you dismay!"Scrooge seized 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 the fact to the expectant clerk in the Tank, who instantly snuffed his candle out, and put on his hat.Ebenezer ScroogeYou'll want all day to-morrow, I suppose?said Scrooge.Bob Cratchit, Scrooge’s clerk緊張If quite convenient, sir.Ebenezer ScroogeIt's not convenient,said Scrooge,Ebenezer Scroogeand it's not fair. If I was to stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound?The clerk smiled faintly.Ebenezer ScroogeAnd yet,said Scrooge,Ebenezer Scroogeyou don't think me ill-used, when I pay a day's wages for no work.The clerk observed that it was only once a year.Ebenezer Scrooge不耐煩A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December!said Scrooge, buttoning his great-coat to the chin.Ebenezer ScroogeBut I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning.The clerk promised that he would; and Scrooge walked out with a growl. The office was closed in a twinkling, and the clerk, with the long ends of his white comforter dangling below his waist (for he boasted no great-coat), went down a slide on Cornhill, at the end of a lane of boys, twenty times, in honour of its being Christmas Eve, and then ran home to Camden Town as hard as he could pelt, to play at blindman's-buff.

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