Chapter VIII: Stave I

SCENE.—SCROOGE'S _office_. L., _a low desk, at which sits_ SCROOGE,
_in a large arm-chair_. R., _a high desk, with a tall stool;
candle burning upon the desk_. C., _a low stool_. BOB _standing by
the desk with a poker in his hand; one foot advanced, as though
creeping off_ L., _looking at_ SCROOGE _with an anxious
expression_.

_Scrooge_ (_looking round_). Here, you! don't you do it; don't you do it! Haven't I told you, that, if you venture to waste my coals, 'twill be necessary for us to part? Haven't I?

(BOB _drops the poker, gets upon stool, and tries to
warm his hands at the candle_.)

_Fred_ (_outside_, R.). A merry Christmas, uncle! Ha, ha, ha!
(_Enters_ R.) A merry Christmas! God save you!

_Scrooge._ Bah! humbug!

_Fred._ Christmas a humbug, uncle? You don't mean _that_, I'm
sure.

_Scrooge._ I do. Out upon merry Christmas! What's Christmas-time to _you_ but a time for paying bills without money,—a time for finding yourself a year older, and not an hour richer? Bah! If I had my will, every idiot who goes about with "Merry Christmas" on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and burned with a stake of holly through his heart, he should.

_Fred._ Uncle!

_Scrooge._ Nephew, keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep
it in mine.

_Fred._ Keep it! But you don't keep it.

_Scrooge._ Let me leave it alone, then. Much good may it do you!
Much good it has ever _done_ you.

_Fred._ There are many good things, from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas-time when it has come round, apart from the veneration due to its sacred origin (if any thing belonging to it can be apart from that), as a good time,—a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time,—the only time I know of in the long calendar of the year when men and women seem, by one consent, to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-travellers to the grave, and not another race of creatures, bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and _will_ do me good; and I say, God bless it! (BOB _claps his hands heartily_.)

_Scrooge._ Let me hear another sound from you, and you'll keep your Christmas by losing your situation. (_To_ FRED.) You're quite a powerful speaker, sir. I wonder you don't go into Parliament.

_Fred._ Don't be angry, uncle. Come, dine with us to-morrow.

_Scrooge._ I'll see you—(BOB _sneezes violently_.) What's the matter
with _you_?

_Fred._ Come, uncle; say "Yes."

_Scrooge._ No.

_Fred._ But why? why?

_Scrooge._ Why did you get married?

_Fred._ Because I fell in love.

_Scrooge._ Because you fell in love! (_Suddenly turns to his desk._)
Good afternoon.

_Fred._ Nay, uncle, you never came to see me before that
happened. Why give it as a reason for not coming now?

_Scrooge._ Good afternoon.

_Fred._ I want nothing from you: I ask nothing from you. Why
cannot we be friends?

_Scrooge._ Good afternoon.

_Fred._ I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. But I have made the trial, in homage to Christmas; and I'll keep my Christmas humor to the last. So a merry Christmas, uncle!

_Scrooge._ Good afternoon.

_Fred._ And a happy new year!

_Scrooge._ Good afternoon.

_Fred_ (_turns to_ R.) Bob Cratchit, a merry Christmas!

_Bob_ (_shakes_ FRED'S _hand_). A merry Christmas, sir. God
bless it!

_Fred._ Ay, God bless it! and a happy new year.

_Bob._ And a happy new year, sir; God bless that too!

_Fred._ Ay, ay, Bob; God bless that too.

[_Exit_, R.

_Scrooge._ Here, you!

_Bob_ (_jumping off stool_). Yes, sir.

_Scrooge._ _You'll_ want all day to-morrow, I suppose?

_Bob._ If quite convenient, sir.

_Scrooge._ It's not convenient, and it's not fair. If I was to stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself mightily ill-used, I'll be bound.

_Bob._ Yes, sir.

_Scrooge._ And yet you don't think me ill-used, when I pay a day's
wages for no work.

_Bob._ It's only once a year, sir.

_Scrooge._ A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every
twenty-fifth day of December. Well, you can't have it.

_Bob._ But, sir—

_Scrooge._ You can't have it. I shall expect you here earlier
to-morrow.

_Bob._ But, sir—

_Scrooge._ No more. Go! (BOB, _with a very rueful face, puts on his
hat, looks at_ SCROOGE, _and goes slowly out_ R.)

_Scrooge_ (_turns his chair round to face_ C.) There's another fellow, my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking about a "merry Christmas!" I'll retire to Bedlam. I don't make merry myself at Christmas, and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the prisons and the workhouses. They cost enough, and those who are badly off can go there. Merry Christmas! Pooh! bah! humbug, humbug! (_Bell rings_ R., _bell rings_ L., _and then_ R. _and_ L. _together_.) Mercy! what's that? (_Music, piano, slow and solemn. Enter_ R., MARLEY, _dragging his chain, moving slow. Stops_ C., _looking at_ SCROOGE; _a bandage of white cloth, passing under his jaws, tied on top of his head_.) How now? What do you want with me?

_Marley._ Much.

_Scrooge._ Who are you?

_Marley._ Ask me who I _was_.

_Scrooge._ Who _were_ you, then?

_Marley._ In life, I was your partner, Jacob Marley.

_Scrooge._ Can—can you sit down?

_Marley._ I can.

_Scrooge._ Do it, then. (MARLEY _sits on stool_, C., _facing_
SCROOGE.)

_Marley._ You don't believe in me.

_Scrooge._ I don't.

_Marley._ What evidence would you have of my reality, beyond that
of your senses?

_Scrooge._ I don't know.

_Marley._ Why do you doubt your senses?

_Scrooge._ Because a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested blot of beef, a bit of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than grave about you, whatever you are. (MARLEY _takes the bandage from his head; his jaw drops_.) Mercy! Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me? Why do spirits walk the earth? and why do they come to me?

_Marley._ It is required of every man, that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and, if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. My spirit never walked beyond the counting-house. Mark me! in life my spirit never moved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole; and weary journeys lie before me.

_Scrooge._ Seven years dead, and travelling all the time! You travel
fast.

_Marley._ On the wings of the wind.

_Scrooge._ You might have got over a great quantity of ground in
seven years.

_Marley._ Oh, blind man! blind man! not to know that ages of incessant labor 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 no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunities misused. Yet I was like this man. I once was like this man.

_Scrooge._ But you were always a good man of business, Jacob.

_Marley._ Business! Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business. Charity, mercy, forbearance, benevolence, were all my business. Hear me; my time is nearly gone.

_Scrooge._ I will; but don't be hard upon me. Don't be flowery,
Jacob, pray.

_Marley._ 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.

_Scrooge._ You were always a good friend to me. Thank'ee.

_Marley_ (_rising_). You will be haunted by three spirits.

_Scrooge._ Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob? I—I
think I'd rather not.

_Marley._ Without their visits you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first to-night, when the bell tolls one. Expect the second to-morrow night at the same hour; the third upon 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. (_Music as before._ MARLEY _walks backward to_ R., _followed by_ SCROOGE, _with the same slow step_. MARLEY _goes off_ R. _As_ SCROOGE _reaches the_ R., _bell tolls one: he turns. At the same moment, the_ SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS PAST _appears_, C., _entering at the opening in back curtain_.)

_Scrooge._ Are you the spirit whose coming was foretold to me?

_Spirit._ I am.

_Scrooge._ Who and what are you?

_Spirit._ I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.

_Scrooge._ Long past?

_Spirit._ No: your past. The things that you will see with me are shadows of the things that have been. They will have no consciousness of us.

_Scrooge._ What business brought you here?

_Spirit._ Your welfare. Look! (_Steps_ L., SCROOGE R. _Music. The back curtains are drawn, showing a boy sitting at a desk_, R., _with an open book before him_.)

_Scrooge._ It is myself. (_A man dressed as_ ALI BABA, _with an axe across his shoulder, passes slowly and noiselessly across stage back of desk_, R. _to_ L.) Why, it's Ali Baba! It's dear, old, honest Ali Baba. Yes, yes; I know. One day, Christmas-time, when yonder solitary child was left here all alone, he _did_ come here the first time, just like that poor boy. (ROBINSON CRUSOE, _with a parrot perched upon his finger, crosses from_ R. _to_ L. _For costumes, the performers can consult the picture-books._) There's Robinson. There's the parrot,—green body and yellow tail, with a thing like a lettuce growing out of the top of his head; there he is. Poor Robin Crusoe, he called him, when he came home after sailing round the island. "Poor Robin Crusoe! Where have you been, Robin Crusoe?" Ah! poor boy, poor boy! (_Curtain closes._) I wish (_puts his hand in his pocket_)—but it's too late now.

_Spirit._ What is the matter?

_Scrooge._ Nothing, nothing. There was a boy singing a Christmas carol at my door last night. I should like to have given him something. That's all.

_Spirit._ Let us see another Christmas.

(_Curtains are drawn, disclosing_ "FEZZIWIG'S _Dance_." R., _sits an old lady in cap and spectacles, her hands raised in admiration_; C., _is_ FEZZIWIG, _in the act of "cutting." He is a large man; white stockings, knee-breeches, shoes with buckles, long white waistcoat, brown coat, large white cravat, and wig. He stands upon his toes, with feet crossed, his countenance radiant with enjoyment. Opposite him_, MRS. F., _as though dancing, one hand on her waist, the other above her head; bright petticoat, dress tucked up, cap, and gray wig._ R. _and_ L. _of this couple, three young women and three young men; costumes same as_ MR. _and_ MRS. FEZZIWIG, _with the exception of the wig. They stand leaning forward, with their hands together, as though applauding. In front of_ FEZZIWIG, _a little boy, imitating_ FEZZIWIG. _Behind all, a musician, standing in a chair, in the act of fiddling; music (violin), "Sir Roger de Coverley." The characters should be all ready, and take their places, instantly the curtain falls on the previous picture, as the time is very short._)

_Scrooge._ Why, it's Fezziwig,—bless his old heart!—my master Fezziwig alive again; and there's Dick Wilkins, to be sure. He was very much attached to me, was Dick. Poor Dick! Dear, dear! those were happy times. How grateful we were! (_Curtains close on picture._)

_Spirit._ A small matter, to make these silly people so full of
gratitude.

_Scrooge._ Small?

_Spirit._ Why, is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money,—three or four, perhaps. Is that so much, that he deserves this praise?

_Scrooge._ It isn't that, Spirit. He has the power to make his people happy or unhappy,—to make their service light or burdensome, a pleasure or a toil. The happiness he gives is quite as great as though it cost a fortune.

_Spirit._ What is the matter?

_Scrooge._ Nothing particular.

_Spirit._ Something, I think.

_Scrooge._ No, no. I should like to be able to say a word or two to
my clerk just now: that's all.

_Spirit._ My time grows short. Quick!

(_Curtains are drawn, disclosing a young girl sitting upon a lounge. Beside her a young man stands, with his arms folded. She is looking away, he looking down at her. Costumes same as in_ "FEZZIWIG'S _Dance._")

_Scrooge._ Again myself.

_Spirit._ Listen.

(_The characters in the picture speak, with soft music
while they are speaking._)

_Girl._ It matters little—to you, very little. Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve.

_Youth._ What idol has displaced you?

_Girl._ A golden one. You fear the world too much. I have seen your noble aspirations fall off, one by one, until the master passion—gain—engrosses you; have I not?

_Youth._ What then? Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you. Have I ever sought release from our engagement?

_Girl._ In words, no. Never.

_Youth._ In what, then?

_Girl._ In a changed nature; in an altered spirit; in another atmosphere of life, another hope as its great end. If you were free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believe that you would choose a dowerless girl? or, choosing her, do I not know that your repentance and regret would surely follow? I do; and I release you, with a full heart, for the love of him you once were.

_Scrooge._ Spirit, remove me from this place.

_Spirit._ I told you these were shadows of the things that have
been. That they are what they are, do not blame me.

_Scrooge._ Away, I say! I cannot bear it. Leave me. Away, away! Haunt me no longer! (_Falls into chair_, L., _and covers his face with his hands. The_ SPIRIT _stands at the side of his chair, pointing at the picture. The front curtain slowly descends._)