Scrooge a Christmas story read. Chrismas story

Those who wish to live piously have nothing to expect except violence, bitterness, persecution, for “due to the increase of lawlessness” the love of many has already cooled (Matthew 24:12).

Saint Tikhon of Zadonsk

When someone annoys you, never ask why or why. This is nowhere in Scripture. There, on the contrary, it says: if someone hits you on the right side of the cheek, turn to him the other too (Matthew 5:39). - It’s actually inconvenient to hit the gum cheek, but this should be understood this way: if someone slanders you or innocently annoys you with something, this will mean hitting the gum cheek. Do not complain, but bear this blow patiently, putting your left cheek forward, that is, remembering your wrong deeds. And if, perhaps, you are now innocent, then you have sinned a lot before, and thus you will be convinced that you are worthy of punishment.

Venerable Ambrose of Optina

Christ commanded not only to endure the insult complacently and with meekness, but to go further in wisdom: to be ready to endure more than the offender wants, to overcome his daring impudence with the power of patience, so that he would be surprised at your extraordinary meekness and thus walk away.

Saint John Chrysostom

When we endure something from evil people, then, looking at our Leader and Perfecter of faith, we will imagine that... we endure for virtue and for Him. If we begin to think about this, then everything will be easy and bearable. Indeed, if everyone even boasts that he suffers for his beloved, will he who endures anything for God feel any sorrow?

Saint John Chrysostom

Defamation and slander can be either true or false. Truthful - if we are truly guilty of what we are reproached for, and therefore accept what is worthy; then you need to correct yourself so that the reproach is abolished and becomes false. False reproach - when we are not to blame for what we are reproached for; and this reproach must be endured with joy and consoled with the hope of God’s eternal mercies. Moreover, although we are not to blame for the one thing for which we are reviled, we have sinned in another, and therefore we must endure.

Saint Tikhon of Zadonsk

They slandered you... although you are innocent? We must patiently endure. And this will go instead of penance for what you consider yourself guilty of. Therefore, slander for you is the mercy of God. We must certainly reconcile with those who have slandered us, no matter how difficult it may be.

Saint Theophan the Recluse

If you are subjected to slander and later the purity of your conscience is revealed, do not be proud, but humbly serve the Lord, who delivered you from human slander.

Venerable Ephraim the Syrian

As you pray for the slandered, God will reveal the truth about you to those who are offended.

Venerable Maximus the Confessor

Did the person insult you? Will you really offend God because of this? Not to reconcile with the offender means not so much to take revenge on him, but to offend God, who commanded reconciliation.

Venerable Ephraim the Syrian

I ask you, as much as possible, to endure all insults in silence and hide it in your heart, so that the Lord sees your humility and covers you with His bounties. Even if you were in the most bitter extremity, then do not complain to anyone about your fate, but thank the Lord in everything, and the Lord is able to surprise you with His mercy.

Elder George the Recluse

Are you being insulted? They insult God too. Are you being vilified? They also blaspheme God. Are you being spat on? Our Lord suffered the same thing. In this He has in common with us, but in other respects He does not. He never insulted, and never will, did not revile, did not offend. Therefore, we (the offended) have something in common with Him, and not you (the offended). To bear insults is characteristic of God, but to insult, on the contrary, is characteristic of the devil. Here are two opposite sides.

Saint John Chrysostom

Wise and meek, enduring insults and insults from enemies; when insulted, he is not insulted; and when insulted, he is not offended. And to tell the truth, it is the offenders and insulters themselves who are offended and insulted: people condemn them and speak badly of them. And he who is above insult and resentment is crowned with praise from everyone here, as having conquered not only the enemy, but also irritability, and there he receives great rewards from God. If you say that it takes a lot of sweat and labor to endure everything, I will not deny it, but I will say that with great effort we deserve the crown.

Venerable Isidore Pelusiot

If a friend offends you or one of your neighbors upsets you, think about your sins against God and that by your meekness towards them you will appease the future Judgment for yourself.

Saint John Chrysostom

The Lord appointed a truly great reward for enduring not only persecution, wounds, bonds, murder and death, but also only insults and words of reproach (Luke 6:22).

Venerable Ephraim the Syrian

When you suffer any dishonor from people, consider that it was sent from God to your glory; when He comes, you will be found faithful and escape condemnation.

Venerable Mark the Ascetic

Number of entries: 83

Hello, father! I have a habit, an inveterate and bad one, of ironizing myself, mocking myself, or something. For example, they were rude to me in a store, I come out of there, all embittered, and the thought appears in my head: “Oh, wow, she was offended! Great person! And don’t lay a finger on her. How was she rude to mom this morning?” and in that spirit. It seems to me that this is something wrong, because the sin I committed should lead me to repentance, to the point where I ask God for forgiveness and the strength to correct myself, but with these thoughts, with irony, I most likely only bring hatred towards myself, and then I suffer from it.

Elena

Perhaps I agree with you, Elena: such irony has little to do with humility and self-reproach; it is better to repent of your sins and ask for forgiveness. By the way, read about this from Father John of Kronstadt: in his diaries there are wonderful moments when he had to sin and he prayed to God for forgiveness. What a wonderful role model!

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

Hello. I am a believer, I am 19 years old. I go to church very rarely, no lie, I was there once last year, and not at a service, but just put candles on the icons, prayed, and asked for forgiveness. I know that it is a sin to believe in God and not go to church, but so far I am not drawn to it. I'm thinking of going there as soon as my soul so desires. But I often pray to God, thank him, and ask for forgiveness. Over the past 2 years, bad thoughts have been appearing in my head, offending God and the Mother of God. I am very much afraid of them, because I think that this is my worst sin, so I want to get rid of them. Please tell me, are there any prayers that will specifically help cope with this illness? Thank you.

Hello. For this there is the Sacrament of Repentance, but in order to benefit from it, you will have to go to church, pray, fast and repent. There have never been and never will be any other means. It is impossible to be a Christian if, at least for an hour a week, you do not tear yourself out of the whirlwind and bustle of the world and immerse yourself in the atmosphere of the temple, where everything is designed to create conditions for sincere and attentive prayer, where sound teaching and grace-filled Sacraments are taught.

Priest Alexander Beloslyudov

Hello. How to get rid of blasphemous thoughts? What exactly needs to be done? I can barely stand it, they keep getting into my head. During prayer, the desire and thought to blaspheme also arises. Thank you.

Andrey

Andrey, repentance and confession will help you get rid of blasphemous thoughts, so start with that. And then please try to occupy your mind with prayer or reading, so that if possible it never remains empty. In general, blasphemous thoughts come from pride and sins.

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

Hello, father. I think about diseases very often (especially those that cause people to die). I want to ask how to protect myself from these thoughts, and why, as soon as I calm myself down, the same thoughts overwhelm me again. Then I’ll probably spit it out and forget, but not for long. What should I do? What to do? How to think about good things? Thanks a lot.

Valentina

Valentina, what does your “spit” mean? You're not spitting over your left shoulder, I hope? Otherwise, this is somehow not Christian at all. The thoughts you write about are most likely dictated simply by your natural suspiciousness. Try to trust God more, because what’s the point of tormenting yourself and thinking about all sorts of fears? Did something happen in your life because of this? Or did you get rid of something thanks to your thoughts? No. If you care, you don’t care, but God’s providence is over everything, as the Lord blesses, so we will live. That’s why you need to calm down and take care of your inner peace. And so that the mind does not engage in empty thoughts, it is better to occupy it with prayer.

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

Hello. How to deal with despondency? What prayers should you read and how should you read them so that God hears your prayers? My soul is very bad, bad thoughts are creeping into my head, and not everything is good with my health, I feel sorry for myself and my family, and that’s probably what’s causing my despondency. I really want my family to be Orthodox and believers. Mom and Dad, my brothers and I would have guardian angels, we could light candles for health, pray to the saints for us and for the dead. And then the Lord would definitely hear my prayers. What should we and those who live without God do? Such is the despair for the future, and what will happen to us after death? I am writing to you because I don’t know who to turn to with such questions.

Marina

Marina, we need to look for the roots of despondency, its causes. Here you need to consult a priest, this will help. Perhaps not just one conversation, but several will be needed to understand yourself and understand the true reasons. But in general, whatever these reasons may be, they can all be called in one word - sin, they are just one or another variety of it. Therefore, a very effective remedy for despondency is repentance and confession.

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

Father, why does it happen that you are going to ask the priest about something, like: “is it possible to do such and such during Lent” or the like, and the answer suddenly comes to mind. Such a clear and precise answer. And you think to yourself: “What kind of crafty person am I!? It turns out that I knew the answer, but was just about to ask!”

Elena

Elena, it is quite possible that the answer that comes to mind is precisely the evil answer. You still ask the priest, this is very good, this is where humility manifests itself. The Lord loves the humble, and the evil one is powerless over them.

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

Hello, father. I don’t understand how you can combine life in the world and love for God. I’m not particularly drawn to the worldly (in the sense of entertainment, etc.), but I’m not particularly drawn to the spiritual either. Lately no aspiration. I pray somehow, fasting is terrifying, nightmare thoughts are swarming in my head, I don’t want to communicate with people. Mom said that I had become dull, boring and disgusting. I have a fiance, but I also communicate with him through force. I just don’t know how you can live a spiritual life and, for example, experience (allow yourself to experience) love for a person, joy from your work, from communication in your family. Everything inside me was mixed up: I am neither worldly nor Christian. We are supposed to bring light to people, but here you are suffocating from your bestiality and despondency.

Faith

Hello, Vera. Read and follow the Gospel carefully. Listen or read the conversations of St. John Chrysostom on the Gospel of Matthew. Love for God is realized only when there is determination and compulsion to live according to the Commandments of the Gospel. This pattern was indicated by the Lord Himself when he said: “If you love Me, fulfill My commandments.” But these commandments do not require us to change our nature, we cannot do this, we cannot suddenly take and love those who offend, and insult, and even simply unpleasant ones. The commandments call us to treat everyone as we treat ourselves. This is how Christian love is realized. Compassionate, even, unhypocritical attitude towards everyone. This is how love for God is realized. But self-criticism does not create anything, it only destroys. Moreover, the root of self-criticism is pride. In contrast to repentance, which is rooted in humility. Repentance gives birth to prayer, prayer calls on God, and God gives consolation. Self-criticism produces despondency, and despondency produces despair. Outwardly, the phenomena seem to be similar, but what a different ending! Here are the paths of the lawful spiritual feat: commandments, humility, repentance, prayer, and only then love. You can be a true Christian in the world, and in prison, and in slavery, and in the army, and anywhere. But, you are right, it is impossible to combine the world as a set of passions and Christianity.

Priest Alexander Beloslyudov

Hello, father! Help me figure out my problem, please! My mother got sick. I am very worried about her, I pray. My husband and I stopped by a priest we knew, and he advised my mother to confess, take communion and make a vow - if she recovered, she would marry her father. I don’t know why, but on the way home, I mentally promised that if my mother recovered, then my husband and I would also get married within a year. I shouldn't have said this without consulting my husband. And I take weddings very seriously. I want me and my husband to make this decision someday. I don't know what to do now. I’m very afraid that the Lord will punish my mother through me if I don’t keep my promise. Please help me what to do. I'm suffering terribly.

Tatiana

Dear Tatyana, don’t worry, your promise will not have a negative impact on your mother or anyone else. The Lord knows everything, and your situation too, and the fact that, under the impression of the conversation, you promised without thinking, and even about this future concern of yours He already knew then, and that you will not solve this without your husband. But the Lord does not need formal compliance with such a promise of yours. You, remembering that not everything depends on us, can adjust your decision as follows: “I found myself in a situation that prompted me to think about getting married. I will do everything in my power, and, if it is the will of God and the consent of my husband, "We will get married and I will not be burdened by the unresolved matter. I cannot “buy” mercy for my mother and myself with some external action, but I can simply ask for this. So I will ask God for mercy." And may the Lord work according to your prayer!

Priest Sergius Osipov

Father, hello! I ask you to help me understand myself! Lately I’ve started to think a lot about diseases, in particular HIV infection, and I’ve started reading about it often, how to avoid getting infected, etc. Due to the fact that I’m pregnant, I have so-called “pregnant hormones,” and I’m worried about with or without reason. My daughter is growing up, she is 5 years old, and I always worry about her, she has allergies, and for 5 years all we have done is check her health. Here I recently had my ears pierced, and I read a lot of “horror stories” about how you can catch HIV during this procedure, etc. I took a referral to the clinic for these tests, but they didn’t go for the test, they thought that these were my unfounded fears, that I had cheated yourself this. I understand this myself, I understand that by doing this I “anger” the Lord, perhaps, and of course, I repent in my thoughts that everything will actually be fine and there is no need to worry. And I flushed these directions down the toilet, and told myself that I believe in God, I believe that everything will be fine, and as if I flushed my soaps down the toilet, and I don’t want to return to this anymore, I don’t want to return to these thoughts but to think only that my daughter will be healthy! Actually, what worries me - of course, I don’t believe in superstitions, and in all sorts of magical and horoscope things too - I reject and don’t believe, I renounced all kinds of sorcerers and repented of this in confession, but the fact that I washed it away everyone in the toilet with the thoughts that everything will be fine and I don’t want to think about it anymore, isn’t this considered some kind of magical effect? Thanks for understanding!

Ksenia

Ksenia, what you write about yourself is not so much superstition as a state of anxiety. You need to regularly confess these thoughts. It may be worth seeking help from a good psychotherapist. Obsessive thoughts and obsessive actions can develop and lead to illness. Pray, confess and trust in God!

Archpriest Maxim Khizhiy

Hello! Please tell me what to do if bad thoughts constantly come into my head in the form of wishing harm on someone, although in my heart I don’t wish harm on anyone!?

Anastasia

We must run to confession, Anastasia, and reveal our thoughts to the priest. This will help a lot.

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

Good afternoon Please tell me how can I confess my sin? I am married, but another man loves me, and I also have some feelings for him, but I try in every possible way to get them out of my head. We live in different countries, and we communicate only on social networks. Now communication is practically reduced to zero. But when he writes to me, he constantly talks about his love for me and that he is really serious about me. There was no physical betrayal, but I did not protect myself in letters, thoughts and dreams, I succumbed (and am now succumbing) to these thoughts. I am very ashamed of myself, of my husband and of this man, because it turns out that he sins too. Please tell me how can I confess this sin? Is it worth telling the whole story to the priest in detail, or is it enough to simply repent from the heart of adulterous thoughts and not guarding oneself from prodigal, adulterous dreams? God bless you!

Elena

Elena, of course, we need to end these online relationships. It is enough to repent in your thoughts, and not in the description of your experiences. This will not add anything significant to the confession. But you definitely need to think about what is happening in your family, what served as the impetus for communication on the Internet. Apparently, family life needs a “reset” of relationships. It seems that you have stopped talking to your husband, communication has disappeared. This is the beginning of a serious crisis.

Archpriest Maxim Khizhiy

R. writes to you. B. Maria. I have this bewilderment: in books about spiritual life and manuals for preparing for confession, they often write that there is no need to confess thoughts if a person does not accept them, fights them, opposing them with “correct” and saving thoughts, or simply not pays attention to them, because in this case they are not a sin, but only an enemy obsession. But recently, in one of the last answers on your site, I discovered another piece of advice: to confess these thoughts, even if the person does not want them and does not want to think about them. So what is the right way? Is mental warfare a sin? And then, then you will have to confess absolutely everything, any crazy thought that accidentally flashed into your head. It seems to me that I simply cannot do this... And one more thing: how can one confess one’s thoughts correctly? Brief or detailed? Is it enough to say, for example, that “I sinned with bad thoughts” or is it better to be more specific: “thoughts of cruelty, despondency, etc.”? I beg you to resolve my confusion!

Maria

Maria, you are absolutely right that there is no need to confess thoughts that you do not accept, with which the so-called addition does not occur. But we must also take into account the fact that confession itself is such a medicine for the soul that can greatly weaken mental warfare, and perhaps even completely heal from it. Therefore, in the answer to which you refer, it was recommended to voice in confession the very fact of mental warfare, the very fact of the presence of thoughts, although not causing sympathy with them, but, nevertheless, burdening the soul. As for the correct confession of thoughts, one must partly reveal their essence in confession - you cannot help yourself with general words here.

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

Hello! I try to pray earnestly in the morning and evening, but often after prayer I do not feel grace, or during prayer I am visited by unreasonable thoughts. Tell me, please, what should I do, pray and not pay attention to my illness?

Julia

It’s absolutely right, Julia, to pray and not pay attention to anything, even to your thoughts. But the feeling of grace will come only a little later: when the soul is thoroughly cleansed of sins and prayer becomes a joy.

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

Hello, father! If from time to time, including during prayer, negative and vile thoughts come that I don’t think about and don’t want to think about, is it necessary to confess it?

Anatoly

Yes, Anatoly, you need to confess this for the simple reason that after confession these thoughts will weaken or leave you completely. What you describe is called mental or invisible warfare in spiritual literature and is healed, first of all, by constant confession.

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

They say that giving your life for another person is not suicide, but quite the opposite. With shame before God, but still tired of living, I understand perfectly well that suicide (especially for an Orthodox Christian) is the most terrible thing. It is clear that it is either here or to hell. Maybe I should go to the hospital and give some organ to another person, thereby saving him from death? And then I will be forgiven for my act of resisting the Will of God. I thought about a lot of methods of suicide and their implementation, and then this came to mind... Why not self-sacrifice? Not painful and not scary and maybe not so sinful?

Sergey

Stupid thoughts, Sergey! The sacrifice will not be accepted if you do not value your life! It's not a matter of "technique", but of internal state, depressed, disappointed, unwilling to live. Was there any sin here? You need a serious confession, and, I think, the help of a psychotherapist. May God help you overcome the discord with yourself and life. I think that if there is sacrifice, then all is not lost for you. Ordinary suicides are complete egoists. You are not like that. Live, serve your loved ones. Christ bless!

Archpriest Maxim Khizhiy

Is it possible to dream? Imagine what you want? If not, how can you motivate yourself to do something? Will apathy, despondency, despair arise?

Marina

Hello, Marina. Don't confuse your innate ability to imagine with the passion of daydreaming. Without imagination, no creativity is possible. Before you bring something to life, you need to think it through in every detail. Daydreaming is imagining something that will never happen, an ephemeral life in which the dreamer plays the main role, imagining himself as having those virtues and opportunities that he does not actually have. Live not in dreams, but in reality, and you will never get bored of it.

Priest Alexander Beloslyudov

Hello, Elena. It is important to be gradual and consistent. Just like in sports. You can’t immediately lift a hundred-kilogram barbell, you need to gradually, day after day, increase the load, so, lo and behold, after a couple of years you lifted the barbell. So it is in spiritual life. Don’t think that you can use some remedy or technique from a book and see all of yourself overnight. We are required to force ourselves within our power to live according to the commandments of Christ. In order to at least sometimes be in the silence of your soul, behind the closed doors of the cell of your heart, you need to learn prayer. The point is not in any special prayers, but in the mood that must be acquired in prayer. It would be good for you to read and understand the teaching about the Jesus Prayer, which is in the book “Ascetic Experiences” by St. Ignatius Brianchaninov. In the first volume, after the chapters on the Jesus Prayer, there is a chapter on paying attention to yourself, which is also very useful to read. If this reading is easy for you, then slowly read the entire book from beginning to end. If you have any difficulties, limit yourself to the named chapters only. In general, reading is a must; it feeds the soul. But you can take an easier book to read, for example, “Letters of the Elder of Valaam.” But first, the doctrine of prayer. God help you.

Priest Alexander Beloslyudov

Good afternoon, father. I have a few questions. Tell me, if you pray absent-mindedly and, as luck would have it, different thoughts creep into your head, isn’t it better not to pray at all? And also, tell me, how sinful is it to talk in church? I come to the temple, but not very often. I try to remain silent outside of the service and mentally turn to the Lord God, especially during the service, but in the church there is very often such noise, I emphasize again, when the service has not yet begun - from the grannies who came to talk about everyday things - which is not even possible concentrate. Thank you in advance for your response.

Hope

Hope, even if you are completely distracted by prayer, it is better not to leave prayer. Otherwise, you will never learn to pray to God. As for conversations in church, the Monk Ambrose of Optina said: “Sorrows are allowed for conversations in church.” However, let's not judge old women - they are often very spiritually weak. The Lord will not ask us for the old women, but for how we repented, how we confessed, with what kind of heart we received communion and whether we became true followers of Christ.

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

I am 15 years old. This started for me a long time ago. At first, just bad thoughts that I couldn’t cope with. Sometimes I thought I was going crazy. Then it seemed to pass. But now it's every day. Moreover, just on different topics, it happens that I curse the people I love (I pray to God, I ask to save them, I worry very much). It’s like an obsession for me - it can last for several days, maybe even longer. I sometimes think I'm schizophrenic. What should I do? I’m afraid to go to a psychologist, and I’m afraid to go to my priest too. This is no longer possible. Help!

Tatiana.

Tatyana, this happens to some people during adolescence, don’t be alarmed. Although, of course, there is no need to calm down, because this is very bad. What is the reason for this phenomenon? In parallel with the process of maturation and maturation of the body, the human mind, once free from passions, begins to become more and more concerned with issues, so to speak, physical, and loses its purity. And the devil, seeing that the mind is becoming polluted, very quickly seeks to take advantage of this situation and pollute it even more with his obsessive thoughts. There is only one way out - to church, to the priest, to confession. And then - take communion. If you do this very sincerely and with dignity, you will feel great relief and freedom from all this dirt. True, after some time the enemy will begin to attack again, and then again and again you need to confess your bad thoughts and sanctify your soul with Communion. God help you!

Hegumen Nikon (Golovko)

History records many cases of rebellion against God, from the fallen angel to famous personalities our time. Here are just some examples of what this behavior leads to.

The famous actress Marilyn Monroe had a brief meeting with evangelist Billy Graham during the presentation of the show. He said that the Spirit of God sent him to preach to her. After listening to the preacher, she replied: “I don’t need your Jesus!” Just a week later she was found dead in her apartment.

Brazilian politician Tancredo de Ameido Neves publicly said during his presidential election campaign: “If I get 500,000 votes for my party, then even God himself will not be able to remove me from the presidency!” Of course, he gained these votes, but suddenly fell ill and died suddenly one day before becoming president.

During a show in Rio de Janeiro, a Brazilian composer, singer, and poet took a drag from a cigarette, noisily blew smoke into the air and blasphemously proclaimed: “God, this is for you!” He soon died at the age of 32 from AIDS.

The engineer who built the Titanic, after completing construction work, when asked by reporters how safe his miracle ship would be, answered with irony in his voice: “Now even God cannot sink it!” Surely everyone knows what happened to the unsinkable Titanic.

Member of the famous group "The Beatles" John Lennon, during an interview with a leading American magazine, said: “Christianity will soon end, it will simply disappear, I don’t even want to argue about it. I’m just sure of it. Jesus was OK, but his ideas were too simple . Today we are more famous than HE! After he declared that the Beatles were more famous than Jesus Christ, he died tragically. One psychopath shot him at point-blank range six times. Remarkably, the killer did this in order to take him away popularity, and become famous throughout the world as the killer of a famous singer.

In 2005, in the Brazilian city of Campinas, a group of drunken friends came to pick up their girlfriend from home for further entertainment. This girl’s mother, very worried about them, walked her to the car and, holding her daughter by the hand, said with trepidation: “My daughter, go with God, and may He protect you,” to which she boldly replied: “In our car already There’s no room for Him unless He climbs in and rides in the trunk.” A few hours later, the mother was informed that this car had been in a terrible car accident and everyone had died! The car itself was mutilated beyond recognition, but the police reported that, despite the fact that the entire car was completely destroyed so that it was even impossible to recognize its make, the trunk remained completely undamaged, which is completely contradictory common sense. Imagine everyone’s surprise when the trunk easily opened and a tray of eggs was found in it, and not a single one of them broke or even cracked!

Jamaican journalist and dancer Christina Hewitt said: "The Bible is the worst book ever written!" Soon, in June 2006, she was found burned beyond recognition in her own car.

The Bible says: “Do not be deceived, God is not mocked. Whatever a man sows, that will he also reap” (Gal. 6:7). God created all life on our planet about six thousand years ago, and according to His plan, each of us came into this world. Is it wise for a creature to rebel against the Creator? Life experience suggests that this is a stupid and completely pointless undertaking for many that ends sadly.

and few mortals are given the chance to change

Christmas is a very special holiday of the year. It smells like fragrant, steaming cocoa with cinnamon, pine, and a so tempting freshly baked raisin pie, with a delicious crust sprinkled with powdered sugar, and there is a barely perceptible haze of magic in the air. Christmas is a time of love and forgiveness, kindness. Everyone, young and old, is imbued with the spirit of Christmas; everyone knows the feeling of inner excitement, pleasant bustle, gifts, congratulations, comfort, warmth and unity, harmony with the world and family. For the miser Ebenezer Scrooge, all this is not something that has no value, all this simply does not exist in his life. He is impossibly greedy, obscenely harmful and very lonely due to his extremely bad character. He has no idea of ​​spending an extra shilling on a gift, on a holiday, even on himself! He will be cold, but he won’t go broke on heating the office. Everything changes when three ghosts - the Ghost of Christmas Past, the Ghost of Christmas Present and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come - visit him and take him on a thrilling, eye-opening journey through time. So, everyone knows the fairy tale. In a new format and implementation.

A Christmas Story a joint, almost revolutionary, project of Walt Disney Pictures studio and director Robert Zemeckis, whose names are always associated with kind and warm family films. And now something new has appeared on the screens, something unexpected, sudden and atypical - a gloomy picture, bordering on horror, A Christmas Carol. At first glance, you can’t answer what the target audience of the film is: adults or children? Upon reflection, you can find the answer for adults who are still children at heart, for adults who believe in fairy tales. However, it will be interesting to watch it both ways, as long as you are prepared for what you are about to see. Moreover, everyone should watch it. Excellent visualization, fantastic graphics, excellent acting, such as Jimmy Carrey, delighting fans with his unsurpassed antics and playing four roles at once Scrooge at different ages and three ghosts, Harry Oldman, Colin Firth and Robin Wright-Penn, who are recognizable at first sight almost impossible, the general mood of the film all this makes the audience feel the spirit of Christmas, plunge into the Gothic atmosphere of 19th century London. And it teaches mercy, teaches kindness and empathy, teaches you to pay attention to little things and enjoy them, not to be a stingy soul in the first place, not to skimp on feelings and pleasant words, on smiles and good deeds.

The film is unusually spectacular and beautiful, at times the effects are breathtaking, here Scrooge flies, and you feel dizzy, here he falls, you feel as if you are falling with him An important role, of course, is played in this by the 3D format, but it is also shows some fantastic new dimensions in this film. It’s impossible not to note the creators’ attention to detail, thanks to which you sometimes forget that you’re watching a cartoon and not a full-length film.

The date of the film's premiere adds a constant fly in the ointment. Is it worth clarifying that if it had been released on the twenty-fifth of December, it would have greater success, greater appropriateness, would fit into the general mood. But the film is so good, so unusual, that this minor detail cannot spoil the viewing experience.

Here it is, Robert Zemeckis's favorite time travel film.

Charles Dickens

Miser Scrooge

Yuletide song V prose

A Christmas Carol In Prose - 1843 .

Translation L. A. Meya .

First stanza.
Marley's ghost.

Let's start from the beginning: Marley died. There can be no shadow of doubt about this. The register of births is signed by the parish priest, the clergyman and the undertaker. Scrooge also signed it, and Scrooge’s name was loud on the stock exchange, wherever and whatever it pleased him to sign. The fact is that old Marley was driven into his grave like an aspen stake. Let me! Don’t think that I am personally convinced of the deadness of an aspen stake: I think, on the contrary, that there is nothing deadlier in the trade of a nail driven into the lid of a coffin... But... the mind of our ancestors was formed on similarities and proverbs, and not by my wicked hand it is appropriate to touch the sacred ark of centuries - otherwise my homeland will perish... So, you will allow me to repeat with due expressiveness that Marley was driven into the grave like an aspen stake... The question is: did Scrooge know that Marley had died? Of course he knew, but how could he not know? He and Marley personified the trading company. “God knows how many years Scrooge has been the executor, the only trustee, the only friend and the only attendant of Merle’s coffin.” In truth, the death of his friend did not upset him so much that, on the very day of the funeral, he did not turn out to be a business man and a thrifty manager of the sad procession. It is this word that leads me to my first thought, namely, that Marley undoubtedly died, and that, therefore, if he had not died, there would be nothing surprising in my story. If we were not convinced that Hamlet’s father had died before the play began, none of us would have even paid attention to the fact that a gentleman of venerable years was strolling inopportunely, in the darkness and in the fresh breeze, along the city ramparts, between the graves, with the only The goal is to completely destroy the damaged mental abilities of his beloved son. As for Scrooge himself, it never occurred to him to cross out the name of his fellow trader from the account books: for many years after Marley’s death, there was still a sign above the entrance to their common store with the inscription: “Scrooge and Marley.” The company of the trading house was still the same: “Scrooge and Marley”. It sometimes happened that some gentlemen, new to trade turnover, called this house: Scrooge - Scrooge, and sometimes simply: Merley; but the company was always ready to respond equally to one name or another. ABOUT! Scrooge fully studied his hand millstone and held it tightly in his fist, a dear man - and an old sinner: a miser for show, he knew how to press, and squeeze, and scrape, and most importantly, not let go of his hands. He was unyielding and strong, like a flint of a gun; you couldn’t even get a spark out of him without flint; he was silent, secretive and reclusive, like an oyster. Mental cold froze his face, pinched his pointed nose, wrinkled his cheeks, stiffened his gait and soured his voice. The constant frost whitened his head, eyebrows and convulsively sly chin. Always and everywhere he brought his own temperature with him - below zero, he froze his office even during the holidays and, for the sake of Christmas itself, did not raise the heart thermometer by a single degree. External heat and cold did not have the slightest influence on Scrooge: the summer heat did not warm him, he did not feel cold in the cruelest winter; and yet the autumn wind has never been sharper than it; Neither snow nor rain had ever fallen on anyone's head as mercilessly as he did; he did not allow rain, sleet, or frost - in all their abundance: Scrooge did not understand this word. No one has ever met him on the street with a friendly smile and the words: “How are you, most honorable Mr. Scrooge? When will you visit us?” Not a single beggar dared to stretch out their hands to him for a half-size; not a single boy asked him: “What time is it?” No one, neither man nor woman, during Scrooge's entire life, asked him: “how to get there?” Even the dog - the counselor of the street blind man, it seems - knew Scrooge: as soon as he saw him, he would lead his owner either under the gate or into some nook and cranny, and begin wagging his tail, as if saying: “My poor master "Do you know that it is better to go blind than to put the evil eye on good people?" What does it matter to Scrooge? This is exactly what he craved. He longed to go life's path alone, apart from the crowd, with a sign on his forehead: “pa-adi-beware!” And then - “don’t feed him gingerbread!” as they say, gourmands are children. One day, on the best day of the year, Christmas Eve, old Scrooge was sitting in his office and was very busy. It was freezing; the fog was falling; Scrooge could hear the passers-by in the alley whistling into their fists, puffing, clapping their hands, and dancing on the trepak panel to keep warm. At the City Tower it had only struck three o'clock in the afternoon, and it was already completely dark outside. However, it had not been light since morning, and the lights in the neighboring windows of the offices turned red as oil stains against the blackish background of the thick, almost tactile air. The fog penetrated into the houses through all the cracks and keyholes; on outdoors he rallied to such an extent that, despite the narrowness of the alley, the opposite houses seemed like some kind of ghosts. Looking at the dark clouds, one would think that they were descending closer and closer to the ground with the intention of smoking the huge brewery. The door to Scrooge's office was open, so that he could constantly keep an eye on his clerk, who was busy copying out several papers in a dark closet - something like a well. Scrooge's fire was barely smoldering in his fireplace, and the clerk's was even smaller: just one coal. He could not add anything to it, because the basket of coals stood in Scrooge’s room, and every time the clerk timidly entered with a shovel, Scrooge warned him that he would be forced to part with him. As a result, the clerk wrapped a white “nose-hide” around his neck and tried to warm up by the candle; but, with such a visible lack of ingenuity, of course he did not achieve his goal. - Happy holiday, uncle, and may God bless you! - a cheerful voice rang out. The voice belonged to Scrooge's nephew, who took his uncle by surprise. - What kind of nonsense is this? - asked Scrooge. His nephew walked towards him so quickly and became so flushed in the frosty fog that his cheeks were ablaze, his face was as red as a cherry, his eyes sparkled and steam poured out of his mouth in a column. - Like uncle: Christmas time is nothing? - Scrooge's nephew remarked. - Is that what you're saying? - What then? - answered Scrooge. - Merry Christmastide. What right do you have to have fun? What right do you have to splurge on fun?.. After all, he’s already poor... - That’s enough, that’s enough! - the nephew objected. “Better tell me: what right do you have to frown and fuss over numbers?.. After all, you’re already rich.” - Bah! - continued Scrooge, not prepared for the answer, and for his “Bah!” added: All this is nonsense! - Stop moping, uncle. - You will inevitably become depressed with such crazy people. Merry Christmas! Well - his, your fun!.. And what are your Christmastide? Urgent time - to pay bills; and you probably don’t even have any money... But with every Christmastide you grow older whole year and you remember that you lived another twelve months without profit. No! If it were up to me, I would order everyone so crazy, for congratulatory errands, to be boiled in a cauldron - with his own pudding, buried, and at the same time, so that he would not run away from the grave, pierce his chest with a branch of holly... This is - like this! - Uncle! - the nephew began to speak, - as a lawyer for Christmastide. - What, nephew? - his uncle interrupted him sternly. - Celebrate Christmastide as you wish, and I will celebrate them in my own way. - Will you celebrate? - his nephew repeated after him. - Is that really how they celebrate? - Well, don’t!.. I wish you New Year new happiness if the old is not enough. - It’s true: I’m missing something... Yes, there’s no need that the New Year has never filled my pocket yet, but still, Christmas time is Christmas time for me. Scrooge's clerk involuntarily applauded this speech from the well known to us; but, realizing the indecency of his act, he rushed to adjust the fire in the fireplace and extinguished the last spark. “If you put it out again,” Scrooge told him, “you will have to celebrate Christmastide in another place.” And to you, sir, he added, turning to his nephew, I must give complete justice: you are an excellent leader and it is in vain that you do not enter parliament. - Don’t be angry, uncle: it will happen! Come and have lunch with us tomorrow. Scrooge answered him to go to... Really: that’s what he said, he said the whole word, and so he said: let’s go... (The reader can, if he pleases, finish the word). “But why,” cried the nephew? Why? - Why did you get married? - Because - because I fell in love. -- Love! - muttered Scrooge, and muttered as if, after the word - new year, love was the stupidest word in the world. - Listen, uncle! After all, you have never come to see me before: what does my marriage have to do with it? -- Goodbye! - said Scrooge. “I don’t want anything from you, I don’t ask for anything: why don’t we remain friends?” -- Goodbye! - said Scrooge. - I am truly upset by your determination... It seems that there was nothing between us... at least on my part... I wanted to spend the first day with you, - well? what to do! I’ll still have fun - and I wish the same for you. -- Goodbye! - said Scrooge. The nephew left the room without expressing his displeasure in a word; but he stopped on the threshold and congratulated the clerk who was seeing him off on the upcoming holiday, and despite the constant cold, there was still more warmth in him than in Scrooge. Therefore, he responded cordially to his congratulatory greeting, so that Scrooge heard his words from his room and whispered: “What a complete fool!” He serves as my clerk; receives fifteen shillings a week; in his arms his wife and children; and there he rejoices at the holiday!... Well, why doesn’t he invite himself to the madhouse? At this time, the complete fool, having seen off Scrooge's nephew, brought two new visitors into the office: both gentlemen seemed extremely decent people, with a handsome appearance, and both took off their hats at the entrance. They had some registers and papers in their hands. - Scrooge and Marley, it seems? - one of them asked with a bow and looked at the list. -Who do I have the pleasure of talking to: Mr. Scrooge or Mr. Marley? “Mr. Marley died seven years ago,” answered Scrooge. “He died exactly seven years ago, on this very night.” “We have no doubt that the generosity of the deceased found a worthy representative in his surviving companion!” - said the stranger, presenting an official document authorizing him to hold an alms meeting for the poor. It was impossible to doubt the authenticity of this paper; however, with an annoying word: generosity, Scrooge frowned, shook his head, and returned the certificate to his visitor. “At this joyful time of the year, Mr. Scrooge,” said the visitor, taking up a pen, “it would be most desirable to collect all possible benefits for the poor and needy, who are now suffering more than ever: thousands of them are deprived of the most necessary things in life; a hundred thousand do not dare even dream of the most humble comforts. -Have the prisons already been destroyed? - asked Scrooge. “For mercy,” answered the stranger, lowering his pen. “Yes, there are much more of them now than there were before...” “So,” continued Scrooge, “the shelters have ceased their activities?” “Excuse me, sir,” objected Scrooge’s interlocutor: God forbid that they stop it? - So the philanthropic millstone still grinds on the basis of the law? -- Yes! Both he and the law still have a lot to do. - Oh!... But I thought that some contingency prevented the existence of these useful institutions... Sincerely, sincerely glad that I was mistaken! - say Scrooge. - In the full conviction that neither prisons nor shelters can Christianly satisfy the physical and spiritual needs of the crowd, several individuals collected a small sum by subscription to buy the poor, for the upcoming holidays, a piece of meat, a mug of beer and a handful of coal... How much would you like to subscribe? - Yes... not by any means! - answered Scrooge. - You probably want to remain anonymous. - I would like to be left alone. If you, gentlemen, are asking yourself, what do I want? Here's my answer. For me, a holiday is not a joy, and I do not intend to encourage the carousing of every parasite. Even without that, I pay enough to support charitable institutions... that is, prisons and asylums... even if those who feel ill in another place go to them. “But it’s impossible for others to go there, but for others it’s easier to die.” - And if it’s easier, who’s stopping them from doing so, for the sake of reducing the poverty-stricken population? However, excuse me - all this is a dark letter for me. - However, it doesn’t cost you anything to learn it? -- It's not my business! - Scrooge objected... His anger will prevail for days. And I have more things to do than days. Let me say goodbye to you, gentlemen!... Realizing the futility of further insistence, the strangers left. Scrooge sat down to work again in a self-satisfied mood. And the fog and darkness grew thicker and thicker, so that lights began to sparkle along the streets, intended to bridle the carriage horses and guide them to the right path. The old bell tower with a frowning bell, constantly watching out of curiosity through its Gothic window, Scrooge’s office, suddenly disappeared from view and began to ring the quarters, half-hours and hours in the clouds. The frost grew stronger. In the corner of the yard, several workers were adjusting gas pipes and heating up a huge brazier; a whole crowd of men and ragged children crowded around: they rubbed their hands with pleasure and squinted at the fire. The tap of the locked fountain was so frozen that it was disgusting to look at. The gas lamps of the shops illuminated the branches and berries of the holly and cast a reddish glow on the pale faces of passers-by. The butcher's and greengrocer's shops shone with such luxury and presented such a magnificent spectacle that it would never have occurred to anyone to connect with them the idea of ​​calculation and profit. The Lord Mayor, in his fortress of the Mansion-House, gave orders, right and left, as becomes a Lord Mayor on Christmas Eve, to his fifty cooks and fifty housekeepers. Even the poor tailor (just last Monday, subjected to a fine of five shillings for drunkenness and rowdyness in the street), even he began to fuss about tomorrow's pudding in his attic, and his skinny half, with a skinny sucker in his arms, went buy the required piece of beef to the slaughterhouse. Meanwhile, the fog becomes thicker and thicker, the cold is more vivid, harsher, more piercing. So he firmly pinched the nose of a street boy, frail, gnawed by hunger, like a bone by a dog: the owner of this nose puts his eye to the keyhole of Scrooge’s office and begins to praise Christ, but at the first words: Lord save you, Good Master! Scrooge grabs the ruler so energetically that the singer, in horror, runs away as fast as he can, leaving keyhole into the prey of fog and frost, and they immediately rush into the room... of course, out of sympathy for Scrooge... Finally, it’s time to lock the office: Scrooge gloomily leaves his stool, as if giving a silent sign to his clerk to get out quickly: the clerk instantly puts out the candle and puts on his hat. - I assume that tomorrow you will stay at home all day? - asks Scrooge. - If it suits you, sir. - This is not at all inconvenient for me, and in general, on your part, it’s unfair. If, tomorrow, I withheld half a crown from your salary, I am sure you would be offended? The clerk smiled slightly. “And meanwhile,” continued Scrooge, “you will not consider it an insult to me that I should pay you for a whole day for nothing.” The clerk noted that this only happens once a year. “It’s a bad excuse and a bad excuse to put your hand in someone else’s pocket every December 25th,” objected Scrooge, buttoning his coat up to his chin. However, I believe that you need the whole day tomorrow: try to reward me for it the day after tomorrow, and as early as possible. The clerk promised, and Scrooge, grumbling under his breath, left the house. The office was locked in the blink of an eye, and the clerk, crossing both ends" nosy"Wearing a vest (he considered a frock coat a luxury), he set off along the Korngill panel, slipping twenty times along with the crowd of boys who kept falling in honor of Christmas Eve. He ran at full speed to his apartment at Camden Town to catch the blind man's buff [ Game of blind man's buff amounts to England necessary accessory Christmas Eve and all Christmastides in general.]. Scrooge sat down to a meager dinner in his usual penny tavern. Having re-read all the magazines and, at the end of the evening, charming himself by looking at his account book, he went home for the night. He occupied former apartment his deceased partner; a long row of dark rooms in an old, gloomy building, at the very end of a back street. God knows how it got there? It seemed that from a young age it played hide and seek with other houses, hid, and then did not find its way. It was dilapidated and sad, because except for Scrooge, no one lived in it: the rest of the apartments were occupied by various offices and bureaus. The courtyard was so dark that Scrooge himself, although he knew every slab by heart, had to feel his way through. Cold and fog pressed tightly against the old front door - and you would have thought that the genius of winter sat on its threshold, immersed in sad thoughts. The fact is that there was nothing remarkable about the door knocker except its exorbitant size; another fact is that Scrooge has seen this hammer every day, morning and evening, since he moved into the house; that for all this, Scrooge had a so-called imagination less than even the corporation of notables and aldermans [ That is, representatives of all kinds of workshops and guilds.]. It should also not be forgotten that for seven whole years, which means just from the day of Marley’s death, Scrooge never thought about the dead man. Explain to me, please, if you can: how did it happen that Scrooge, turning the key in the lock, saw with his own eyes Marley’s face in place of the door knocker? Truly I say to you: the face of Marley! It was not an impenetrable shadow, like all the other objects in the yard, on the contrary: it glowed with some kind of bluish sheen, like a rotten sea crayfish in a dark cellar. There was nothing angry or ferocious in his expression: Marley looked at Scrooge - as always, raising the ghost of his glasses to the ghost of his forehead. His hair moved on his head as if from some kind of breath, or from hot steam; Marley looked with all his eyes, but they were motionless. This circumstance and the bluish color of his skin were terrifying, although Scrooge’s horror did not come from the deathly expression of his face, but from himself, so to speak. Looking closely at this phenomenon, Scrooge again saw only the door knocker. We would sin before our conscience if we said that Scrooge did not feel either a trembling or a terrible, hitherto unfamiliar excitement in his blood. However, he quickly turned the key, entered the room and lit a candle. He stopped for a moment in indecision and, before locking the door, looked to see if there was anyone behind it, as if he was afraid that Marley’s thin nose was about to appear in the hallway. But there was nothing behind the door except the nuts and screws holding the door knocker from the inside. "Bah! Bah!" said Scrooge and slammed the door hard. A thunderous roar rang through the entire house. Every room above and every barrel below, in wine cellar , took a special part in this echo concert. Scrooge was not the type to be afraid of echoes: he locked the door tightly, walked through the hallway and began to climb the stairs, adjusting the candle on the way. You will tell me about ancient staircases, of blessed memory, along which a carriage of six horses could pass side by side, or a procession with one of the small parliamentary affairs could pass, and I will tell you that Scrooge’s staircase was something else: it was possible to carry the road across, so that one end would be facing the wall and the other to the railing, and this would not mean anything, perhaps there would still be room left. For this very reason, it seemed to Scrooge that a funeral procession was ascending the stairs in front of him in the darkness. Half a dozen street gas jets could hardly illuminate enough of the canopy: you can imagine what a bright glow Scrooge’s candle cast!... He rose as if nothing had happened: after all, darkness is worthless, and therefore Scrooge did not feel for it no disgust. But first of all, having entered his room, he looked around all the rooms, apparently disturbed by the memory of the mysterious face. The living room, bedroom and storage room were in order. There was no one under the table, no one under the sofa; the fire was smoldering and heated a pan of gruel (Scrooge had a runny nose); there was also no one in the bedroom under the bed or in the pantry; no one hid behind the robe hanging on the wall. Having completely calmed down, Scrooge double-locked the door, put on his dressing gown, shoes, and nightcap, sat down in front of the fire and began to make the gruel. The stove was built a long time ago, probably by some Dutch merchant. On the tiles there were images borrowed from the Bible: Cains and Abels, the daughters of Pharaoh, the Queens of Sheba, Belshazzars... and yet above all of them, it seemed, the persistent face of Merley flashed... - Nonsense! - said Scrooge and began to walk up and down the room. Suddenly his eyes stopped on an old bell, which had not been in use for a long time and was placed, for some purpose, in the lower part of the house. Imagine Scrooge's amazement and horror when this bell began to move: at first, it only swayed almost without a sound, but then the bell began to ring, and all the other bells in the house picked it up. They rang for no more than a minute, but that minute seemed like a whole hour to Scrooge. The bells fell silent, just as they had started ringing: all at once. Their ringing was replaced by the clanking of iron, as if someone below, in the wine cellar, was dragging a heavy chain along the barrels. Scrooge remembered that all ghosts drag chains behind them. The cellar door swung open with a terrible knock, and Scrooge heard the sound of a chain, first in the first dwelling, then on the stairs, and finally right opposite his door. - All this is sheer nonsense! - said Scrooge. - And I don’t want to believe it! However, his face changed when the ghost entered the room straight through the locked, thick door. A dying light flashed in the fireplace, as if shouting: “I recognize him! This is the ghost of Marley!” and then went out. Perfect, Marley’s face is perfect: the same thin braid; his same ordinary vest, the same tight-fitting trousers: and the silk tassels on his boots still sway in harmony with the braid, the skirts of the dress and the toupee. The chain wrapped around his waist and trailed behind the ghost long tail. Scrooge saw that it was composed of cash drawers, bunches of keys, iron bolts, locks, large books, folders and heavy steel purses. The ghost's body was so transparent that Scrooge, looking at his vest, clearly saw through it two buttons sewn to the back of the caftan. But although Scrooge remembered that during Marley’s life (according to neighboring gossip), he had no entrails, he still did not believe his eyes, but he noticed everything down to the smallest detail, even down to the foulard on his head, tied under his chin. -- What does it mean? - he asked coldly and mockingly, as always. -What do you want from me? - A lot. There is no doubt: the voice of Marley. -- Who are you? - That is: Who I was. - Well, who? - asked Scrooge, raising his voice... - For a ghost, you are a great purist... [ Purism - the desire for purity of morals .] - During my life I was your colleague Jacob Marley. -Can you... sit down? -- Can. - Sit down. Scrooge invited the ghost to sit down to test whether such a transparent creature was able to sit, and to avoid an unpleasant explanation. The ghost sat down very cheekily. -You don't believe in me? - he remarked. -- I do not believe. “What proof of my reality do you require, other than the evidence of your feelings?” - I don’t know either. - Why don’t you trust your feelings? - Because they can be distorted by any accident, any upset stomach, and in essence you are, perhaps, nothing more than a piece of undigested meat, or half a spoonful of mustard, a piece of cheese, a piece of raw potato? If anything, you smell more like juniper than juniper. Scrooge did not like jokes at all, and now he least of all felt the desire to joke, but he joked in order to give a different direction to his thoughts and overcome his horror, so that the voice of the ghost made him tremble to the very marrow of his bones. Scrooge endured hellish torture, sitting opposite the ghost and not daring to take his eyes off those motionless, glassy eyes. And, in fact, there was something terrible in the hellish atmosphere that surrounded the ghost: Scrooge, of course, could not feel it himself, but he saw that the ghost was sitting completely motionless, and meanwhile his hair, the skirts of his caftan and the brushes of his boots were moving , as if from sulfuric steam flying out of some kind of furnace. - Do you see this toothpick? - asked Scrooge in order to dispel his fear and at least for a moment tear away from himself the cold, marble-like gaze of the ghost. “I see,” answered the ghost. - You don’t even look at her! “That doesn’t stop me from seeing her.” - So - here it is: I just have to swallow it - and until the end of my days I will be surrounded by a legion of brownies of my own creation. All this is nonsense, I tell you... Nonsense! At this word, the ghost screamed terribly and shook the chain so deafeningly, so mournfully that Scrooge grabbed the chair with both hands so as not to faint. But his horror doubled when the ghost suddenly tore the foulard from his head and at the same time his lower jaw fell onto his chest. Scrooge fell to his knees and covered his face with his hands. - Merciful God! - he screamed. - Damn ghost!... Why did you come to torment me? - Carnal soul, earthly soul! - answered the ghost. - Do you believe in me now? “You must believe against your will?...” said Scrooge. - But why do spirits roam the earth and why do they come to me? ... “It is the duty of every person,” answered the ghost, “to communicate his soul with his neighbor: if he deviates from this during life, his soul is condemned to wander in the world after death... She is condemned to be a useless and indifferent witness of everyone before? personal phenomena, whereas during life she could have merged with other souls to achieve the common good. - The ghost screamed again and wrung his disembodied hands. -Are you shackled? asked the trembling Scrooge; - but tell me - for what? “I wear the chain that I myself forged in life, link by link, arshin by arshin; He put it on himself voluntarily, so that he could always wear it voluntarily. Maybe you like this sample? Scrooge trembled more and more. “Or do you want,” continued the ghost, to know the weight and length of your own chain? Seven years ago, day after day, it was as long and heavy as mine; then you worked on it some more, and now - a nice chain has come out... Scrooge looked around him at the floor, was there an iron chain on it, about fifty fathoms? But there was no chain. “Jacob,” he said in a pleading voice, “my old friend Jacob Marley, talk to me again, tell me a few words of consolation, Jacob!” “It’s not for me to console,” answered the ghost, “consolation is brought from above, by other ambassadors, and to other people than you, Ebenezer Scrooge!” I can’t even tell you everything that I would like to say: I am doomed to wander without rest and not stop anywhere. You know that on earth my soul did not transgress the boundaries of our office, and that is why I am now destined to make many more difficult journeys! Scrooge had a habit, when he was thinking, of putting his hands in his trouser pocket: he did so now, when last words ghost, but did not get up from his knees. - You must be quite late? - he noticed how earnestly business man , however, with humility and respect. - I'm late! - repeated the ghost. “He’s been dead for seven years,” reasoned Scrooge, and all the time on the road... “All the time!” - said the ghost... - and no rest, no peace, and the continuous torture of remorse... - Are you traveling quickly? - asked Scrooge. “On the wings of the wind,” answered the ghost. - We must have seen many countries! - continued Scrooge. At these words, the ghost screamed for the third time and rattled the chain so much that the patrol would have every right to bring him to court for making noise at night. -- ABOUT! woe to me, the chained prisoner! - he groaned. - Woe to me because I forgot the duty of every person - to serve society, the great cause of humanity, destined by the supreme being, I forgot that with late regret and repentance I did not atone for the lost opportunity for the benefit and good of my neighbor! And here is my sin, here is my sin! “However, you have always been a dutiful person, you knew how to do business very well...” muttered Scrooge, beginning to apply the ghost’s words to himself. -- Affairs! - shouted the ghost, again wringing his hands, - all of humanity was my business; my business was the common good, philanthropy, mercy, complacency and forbearance: these were my affairs! And trade turnover is one drop in the vast ocean of my past affairs! He raised the chain to the full length of his arm, as if indicating the cause of his fruitless regrets, and threw it again on the floor. “I suffer most of all,” continued the ghost, precisely in these last days of the year. Why did I then pass by the crowd with my eyes bowed down to earthly blessings, and did not lift up their grief?, to the gracious, guiding star of the Magi! Perhaps her light would also lead me to some poor abode... Scrooge was very frightened by this turn of phrase and trembled all over. -- Listen! - the ghost shouted to him, - the time assigned to me must end soon... - I’m listening, - said Scrooge, - I just ask you to spare me, Jacob: is it possible to use less rhetoric... - I can’t explain to you - - Why did I appear to you in my current form?.. I had to sit next to you invisibly so many times. This confession was not very pleasant: Scrooge shuddered and wiped the cold note on his forehead. - Yes, this punishment is not the most severe... I was sent to inform you that you have an opportunity and hope to avoid my fate. Listen, Ebenezer!... “You have always been favorable and friendly to me,” said Scrooge. -- Thank you. “Three spirits will visit you,” added the ghost. Scrooge's face instantly turned as pale as that of the ghost himself. “Did you tell me about this opportunity and this hope, Jacob?” - he asked in a weakened voice. -- Yes. - I... I... suppose it would be better without them somehow? “Without their visit, there is no hope for you to escape my fate.” Wait" first"Tomorrow, at exactly one o'clock." "Can't I receive all three of them at once, Jacob?" Scrooge remarked insinuatingly. "Wait." second"at the same time the next night, as well" third" - on the third, as soon as the last stroke of twelve o'clock strikes. You don't expect to see me again; but for your own benefit, remember what happened between us. After these words, he took it from the table and tied it as before , his guard." Scrooge raised his eyes and saw his mysterious visitor standing before him, all wrapped in a chain. The ghost backed towards the sash window, and, with every step he took, the window rose higher and higher, and finally rose completely. Then the ghost beckoned to Scrooge to himself, and he obeyed. At the distance of the last two steps, Marley's shadow raised his hand, not allowing him to come closer. - Scrooge stopped, but not out of obedience, but out of amazement and fear: some kind of dull noise flashed through the air and there were incoherent sounds: cries of despair, melancholy complaints, groans torn from the chest by remorse and remorse. The ghost listened to them for a moment, and then added his voice to the general chorus and disappeared into the pale twilight of the night. With feverish curiosity, Scrooge went to the window and looked in him. The air was filled with wandering and moaning ghosts. Each, like Marley's shadow, dragged a chain behind him; some (maybe ministerial secretaries with the same political beliefs), were shackled in pairs; there was not a single one free. Scrooge knew some of them personally during his lifetime. The punishment of all of them was obviously that they intensified, although it was too late, to interfere in human affairs and do good to someone; but they lost this opportunity forever. Did these merge themselves? fantastic creatures with the fog, did the fog cover them with its shadow? Scrooge knew nothing; As soon as they disappeared, their voices fell silent at once, and the night again became the same as it was when Scrooge returned home. He closed the window and carefully examined the front door: it was double-locked and the locks were intact. Exhausted, tired, Scrooge rushed into bed without undressing, and immediately fell asleep...

Second stanza
First of three

When Scrooge woke up, it was so dark that he could barely see where the transparent window was, where the opaque walls of the room?... In vain he strained his ferret eyes until the clock of the neighboring church struck four quarters: Scrooge listened and still did not recognize the hour. To his great amazement, the heavy bell struck first six, and then seven, and then eight, and so on until twelve, then stopped. Midnight! He had already slept for two hours, so?... Is the clock not striking correctly? Did a piece of ice get into the hair? Midnight! Scrooge pressed the machine of his rehearsal clock to check the bell clock, which, in his opinion, was ringing nonsense. The quick clock struck twelve times and fell silent. - How so! It is impossible,” said Scrooge, “that I should sleep all day and sleep another night.” It can't be that the sun has turned from midnight to? noon! This idea excited him to the point that he jumped out of bed and went to the window. He had to wipe the glass with the sleeve of his robe to see anything. He only saw that it was very cold, that the fog did not lift, that various gentlemen were passing back and forth, passing and making noise, as befits when night and frost drive away the day and take over the world. This was a great relief to Scrooge, for without it, what? would all the three-day bonds be signed in the name of Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge? They would only be collateral for the Hudson Mists. Scrooge would not have understood the three hour quarters, nor would he have understood the fourth, if, when it rang, it did not remind him of the spiritual visit he was expecting. He lay down again on the bed and decided not to sleep until the last quarter rang in the bell tower: to fall asleep would mean to consume the month. Scrooge's determination was, in our extreme opinion, the most reasonable. This quarter of an hour seemed so long to him that he fell asleep several times without noticing it or hearing the clock strike. Finally he heard: “Ding! Don!” -- "Quarter!" considered Scrooge. "Ding! Ding!" - “Half an hour,” said Scrooge. "Ding! Ding!" - "Three quarters!" said Scrooge. "Ding! Ding." - It's an hour! - shouted the triumphant Scrooge, - and no one! “He said this while the clock was striking, but the last blow, dull, sad, funeral, had not yet died down - the room was bathed in bright light and someone pulled back the bed curtains. But not the ones that were behind, not the ones at the feet, but the ones that were face to face. The curtains were drawn back, Scrooge rose - and the mysterious visitor, who had drawn back the curtains, stood face to face with him. The figure was strange... It looked like a child, and like an old man, something supernaturally in between, something that had acquired the ability to hide its height and pretend to be a child. His hair curled around his neck and fell down his back, gray, as if, in fact, from old age, and there was not a wrinkle on his face; the skin was as fresh as a child's, and Long hands flaunted their muscular hands - a sign of extraordinary strength. His bare legs and calves were so developed, as if he easily and unfeelingly carried the entire burden of life on them. He was wearing a white, white tunic, tied with a bright, shiny belt. In his hands he held a green branch of holly, freshly cut and, probably to contradict this emblem of winter, strewn with all kinds of summer flowers. But what was even stranger about his clothes was that a radiance sparkled over his head, probably illuminating all moments of life in moments of joy and sorrow. This light came, as I already said, from his head, but he could extinguish it whenever he wanted, with a large funnel, or - something like it, let's say - a funnel pressed under his armpit. Nevertheless, this instrument, whatever it was, did not attract Scrooge's exclusive attention. What occupied him, strictly speaking, was the belt; it will flash here, then here, then go out, and the entire physiognomy of its owner, one way or another, will take on an expression accordingly. Now it was a one-armed creature, now it was one-legged, now it was on twenty legs without a head, now it was a head without a body: the limbs disappeared, not allowing changes to be seen in their bizarre outlines. And then he became himself again, more than ever. -- Your Majesty! - asked Scrooge: - are you the spirit predicted to me? - I. The voice was so sweet, so pleasant, and so quiet, as if it was whispering not in Scrooge’s ear, but somewhere far away. -Who are you? - asked Scrooge. - Last holiday. - Past? how long ago? - continued Scrooge, peering at the height of the dwarf. -- Last. If someone had asked Scrooge - why? He would not have answered, but still he was burning with the desire to force the funnel already known to readers onto his visitor, and asked the spirit about it. -- Here's another! - the ghost shouted. - Would you like to extinguish the heavenly flame with worldly hands? Here's another!... Aren't you one of those who put this hat on me out of callous pride and forced me to wear it for eyelids and eyelids?... Scrooge respectfully renounced any intention to offend, or " cover"whatever spirit . Then he dared to ask him: what does he want? “Your happiness,” answered the ghost. Scrooge thanked him, but could not resist the thought that a good night would have achieved the proposed goal much more quickly. Probably the spirit caught his thought on the fly, because he immediately said: “Your happiness, that is, your salvation... so beware...” At these words, he extended his strong hand and quietly took Scrooge’s arm. - Get up and follow me! -- he said. In vain would Scrooge preach that the time of year and hour were not suitable for a walk on foot, that he was much warmer in bed than in the yard, that his thermometer was much below zero, that he was dressed too lightly, that is, in shoes, a dressing gown and in a nightcap, and besides, he had a runny nose - all this sermon would have been in vain: there was no way to free himself from the squeeze of this feminine soft hand. Scrooge stood up, but, noticing that the spirit was heading towards the window, he grabbed the floors his clothes, begging. “Just think: I’m a mortal, I can fall.” “Let me just touch here,” said the spirit, placing his hand on his heart: “you will have to endure many more tortures.” - Before he could finish speaking, they flew through the walls and found themselves on the field. The city was as if it had never happened. At once both the darkness and the fog disappeared, because it was a winter day and the snow turned white. -- God! said Scrooge, clasping his hands and peering. - Yes, this is where I grew up! The spirit looked at him favorably. His quiet, instant touch awakened his former sensitivity in the old man: he smelled of something from the past, something so fragrant that it wafted with memories of former hopes, former joys and former worries, long forgotten! -Your lips are trembling! - said the ghost. - And what is that on your cheek? “Nothing,” Scrooge whispered in a strangely excited voice: “it wasn’t fear that tore out my cheek, it’s not a sign of it, it’s just a dimple.” Lead me where I need to go. - Do you know the way? - asked the spirit. - I did! - Scrooge shouted. - Yes, I will find her blindfolded. “It’s strange, then, that you haven’t forgotten for so many years!” - the spirit noticed. - Let's go. Let's go along the road; Scrooge recognized every gate, every gate, every tree, until a town appeared in front of them in the distance, with a bridge, a cathedral and a winding river. Several long-maned ponies harnessed to carts trotted past. The boys sat on the ponies and called to each other merrily. “These are only shadows of the past,” said the ghost, “they do not see us.” Cheerful travelers passed by, and Scrooge recognized each of them and called them by name. And why was he so pleased to see them? And why did his gaze, constantly lifeless, suddenly become animated? And why did his heart tremble at the sight of these passers-by? And why was he so happy when he heard mutual congratulations on the upcoming holiday, on the way to every crossroads? And how could there be a merry Christmas holiday for Scrooge? For him, the merry Christmas holiday was a paradox. He never brought him anything. - The school is not completely empty yet: there is still a lonely child left, forgotten by all his comrades! - said the spirit. “I’ll find out,” confirmed Scrooge, and took a deep breath. They turned off high road onto a lane briefly familiar to Scrooge, and approached a building made of dark brick, with a weather vane on top. A bell hung above the roof; the house was old, the outbuildings were empty: their walls were damp and covered with moss, the glass in the windows was broken, the doors came off their hinges. Chickens clucked swaggeringly in the stables; the barns and barns were overgrown with grass. And the inside of this building did not retain its former appearance, because whoever entered the dark vestibule, whoever looked through the open doors at the long row of open rooms, would have seen how impoverished and dilapidated they were, how cold and how lonely they were. It smelled of a cold, naked prison, or a workhouse, where every day they were exhausted, and yet they were starving. The spirit and Scrooge walked through the back hay door, and saw a long, sad hall with pine school benches and pulpits, lined up in a row. At one of the pulpits, warmed by a weak stove fire, a lonely child sat and read something. Scrooge sat down on a bench and cried, recognizing himself, constantly forgotten and abandoned. There was not a single echo that died out in the house, not a single squeak of mice fighting behind the wallpaper, not a single half-frozen drop falling from a water cannon in the backyard, not a single rustle of the wind in the leafless branches of a skinny poplar, not a single creaking of the doors of an empty store, not the slightest crack. a light in the fireplace - nothing, nothing, no matter what sounded in Scrooge’s heart, no matter what squeezed a copious stream of tears from his eyes. The spirit touched his hand and pointed him to the child, to this " yourself"Scrooge, deep in reading. “Poor child!” said Scrooge, and began to cry again. “I wish,” he whispered, putting his hand in his pocket, looking around, and wiping his eyes with his sleeve, “I wish,” Yes, it’s late... “What is late?” asked the spirit. “Nothing,” answered Scrooge, “nothing. I remembered the boy... Yesterday I praised Christ... I would like to give him something something: that's all... The ghost smiled thoughtfully, waved his hand to Scrooge to shut up, and said: “Let's look at the new holiday." Scrooge saw himself as a teenager in the same room, only more dark and more smoky. The window sills were cracked. ; glass broke; mortar fell from the ceiling in heaps and exposed the motherboard [ A beam (log) located in the middle of the house and which is the basis for fastening the roof and the entire house.-- Wikisource Editor's Note.]. But how all this happened with his own eyes, Scrooge did not understand, just like you, readers. But he understood this: That all this happened, that of the schoolchildren of that time he was the only one left in this hall, as before, and everyone else, as before, went home to have fun at Christmas time. He no longer read, but walked around the familiar hall, back and forth, in complete despair. Scrooge looked at the young spirit, shook his head sadly, and glanced sadly at the hay door. The door swung wide open and a little girl flew in like an arrow. She wrapped her arms around Scrooge’s neck and began to kiss him, babbling: “Darling—my dear brother, For you have you arrived? - she said, clapping her little hands and rolling with laughter. - Home! home! home! - Home! my little Fanny? - asked the boy. - Home! - she repeated, her whole face beaming, - and forever, forever!... Papa is now so kind that there is paradise in the house. One evening, at night, he began to speak to me so tenderly that I was no longer afraid to ask him: is it possible to take you home for the holiday? He answered: “It’s possible.” And he sent a cart with me. Are you really that big? - she continued, looking at Scrooge with all her eyes... - So, you will never return here?... At Christmas time, you and I will have fun. - Yes, it seems that you are already a woman, little Fanny? - the young man shouted. Again Fanny clapped her hands, and again rolled with? laughter. Then she wanted to pat Scrooge on the head, but due to her small stature, she couldn’t reach it; she laughed again and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Then, in the name of this childishly frank kiss, she dragged him to the door, and he followed her without the slightest regret about school. In the hallway they heard a terrible voice: “Throw away Mr. Scrooge’s suitcase!... quickly!... Following this voice, its owner himself, the schoolboy’s mentor, appeared and shook his hand so that it brought him into indescribable trepidation, for the sake of separation. Then he invited both brother and sister into the outdated hall, so low that one could mistake it for a cellar, and so cold that both earthly and celestial globes froze in the walls of its windows. He invited and treated the young couple to such light wine, and such a heavy pie, in a word, such delicacies, that when he sent out his homely servant to treat the waiting postman with something, the postman replied that if it had been the other day’s wine, it would have been better not to bring it. Meanwhile Mr. Scrooge's suitcase was secured to the top of the carriage; The children joyfully said goodbye to the teacher, and merrily rushed along the garden clearing, the wheels of the carriage foaming up both the snow and frost that sprinkled the gloomy leaves of the trees. “There was a spark of God’s fire in her,” said the ghost, “and it could be blown out with one breath, but her heart was beating hotly...” “Your truth,” answered Scrooge, “and God forbid.” - I have to argue with you about this. “It seems she was married,” asked the spirit, “and died, leaving behind two children?” “One,” answered Scrooge. “Your truth,” continued the spirit, “one—your nephew.” Scrooge felt somehow awkward, and he answered briefly: “Yes.” Despite the fact that Scrooge had just left school, he found himself on the crowded streets of some city: as if shadows flashed before him, either people, or carts, or carriages, arguing with each other on the pavements, and calling to each other on the pavements and noise, and all kinds of exclamations of a real city. It was clear from the bright displays of goods in shops and stores that they were celebrating the eve of the Nativity of Christ there too; no matter how dark the evening was, the streets lit up. The spirit stopped at the door of some shop and asked Scrooge: will he know? “What kind of question is this?” said Scrooge. - After all, I studied here, I was a clerk here. Both entered. At the sight of the old man, in a Welsh wig, seated so high behind the desk that - if this gentleman were still two inches tall - he would probably hit his head against the ceiling, the excited Scrooge shouted: “Yes, it’s Fezziwig himself.” He has risen, and may the Almighty forgive the old man! The old man put down his pen and looked at his watch: it was seven. He rubbed his hands cheerfully, pulled off his wide doublet, laughed from head to toe, and proclaimed: “Ebenezer!” Dickk! The former Scrooge entered, accompanied by his former companion. - Yes - it's probably Dick Willkins! - Scrooge remarked to the ghost... - May God have mercy on me: this is he, once lovingly devoted to me! - Come on, come on, guys! shouted Fezziwig. -- What? now back to work?... Christmas Eve, Dick! Christmas Eve, Ebenezer! Quickly - lock the shutters! You will never believe how both young men rushed out into the street as fast as they could: one-two-three - and it was over!... They were just out of breath, like horses... - Ho-ho! - shouted Fezzivig, - away with everything from here, guys! Space - space! Instantly, Dick, instantly, Ebenezer! Down!... but they wouldn’t have left the blue powder, in the eyes of Fezzivig himself... Everything that was lifting disappeared in the blink of an eye; the floor was swept and sprayed; the lamps are lit; a whole heap of coal was thrown into the fireplace: she left the store ballroom, just as warm, dry and illuminated as it should be for a Christmas Eve. Suddenly the violinist appeared with his notes, climbed onto the pulpit, and began to saw on the strings - at least hold on to your sides!... Lady Fezziwig also appeared - a personified smile from all over her mouth; Three idolically shining Misses Fezziwig appeared, and behind them six unlucky men, pierced by arrows of virgin eyes into the very heart, and after them: all the youth who served in the house; a maid with her cousin the baker; the cook with her brother's constant friend; hungry, on suspicion that his owner was not feeding him, a neighbor clerk with a girl whom his mistress was reliably pulling at the ears... That’s it - it all came out, everything danced and completely confused the old Fezziwig couple, tirelessly confusing the figures and losing cadence. .. Finally, the old man had to clap his hands and shout to the violinist: “Basta!” The artist consoled himself by pouring a pre-prepared can of beer down his throat and stopped drinking. Only he immediately set to work again, with the same, no, not the same, with a new fervor, as if another equally ardent musician had jumped on his shoulders. Then they danced some more, took out the forfeits, danced again; then we tasted Christmas Eve pie and sparkling lemonade, and almost half an ox, and pies with minced meat, and cold broth, and a lot of beer... But the greatest delight, after the broth and roast, was produced by the violinist (between us, such a damn rogue that neither you nor I can deceive him) when he began to sing: “Sir Robert de Coverly" [ That is, "Sir Robert de Coverley"; national song, hardly translated as - let's say - our "Kamarinskaya".]. Then old man Fezziwig came out into the middle with Mrs. Fezziwig. Both of them became the leader of the dancers. This was their job: to lead and direct twenty games, or twenty-four pairs, and it was not easy to joke with them!... But if the pairs were twice as large, or even four times, old Fezzivig would not have refused to break through walls forehead, and Mrs. Fezziwig too... Because: she contained within herself a worthy, truly full half of Mr. Fezziwig... If this is not praise, look for something else: I, for my part, refuse. Mr. Fezzivig's calves - may we be forgiven for this comparison - were decidedly the phases of the month; appeared, disappeared, appeared again... And when the old Fezzivig couple finally performed: “advance-reculée; hands to the ladies; balane salue; tir-bouchon; thread in thread and in place,” Fezzivig performed the entreche so easily, as if he moved his legs on the harmonic, and then suddenly straightened up on the same legs as I... Finally, at eleven o’clock, the ball ended and the couple, shaking hands with their visitors, congratulated them goodbye on the upcoming holiday. In parting, they shook hands with their clerks, and they, as befitted them, went to lie down in the counter. All this time, Scrooge was, to tell the truth, something of a demoniac. Soul and heart he merged with his second self: everywhere and everywhere he recognized yourself, with former joys, delights and hopes. Only when his own and Dick's shining faces disappeared - only then did he come to his senses, began to hereby Scrooge and remembered the spirit... And the Spirit glared at him with its piercing gaze, and the flame sparkled brighter and brighter above his head. “But it doesn’t take much,” he said, to instill a feeling of gratitude in these fools? -- A little? - repeated Scrooge. The spirit gave him a sign to listen to the conversation of the young clerks: with all the fullness of their souls they praised Fezzivig... - And why do they praise him? - added the spirit. - It seems because of a trifle: three or four pounds sterling, considering your earthly prices?... Is it really worth praising him for this? “That’s not the point,” remarked Scrooge, involuntarily transformed into his former self, “that’s not the point, spirit!... Our share depends on Fezziwig: whether it will be good or not good for us to serve with him, all this depends on him, on his look, his smile, on everything that cannot be transferred to the accounts or entered into the office book. And what! If he says the word, he will shower it with gold. Scrooge, saying this, managed to catch the piercing glance of the spirit, thrown sideways, and fell silent. -- What's wrong with you? - asked the ghost. “Nothing special,” replied Scrooge. “However, it seemed to me?...” the ghost insisted. -- Nothing! - Scrooge hastened to confirm. - Nothing!... I would just like to say two or three words to my clerk... That's all. At this time of the past I Scrooge's lamp went out, and the ghost and Scrooge found themselves, side by side. side, in the open air. -- I have to go! - said the spirit, - live! This word was not spoken to Scrooge, nor to any of the faces he saw, but it was embodied, and Scrooge again saw the second I. He was, however, a little older - in full color years, as they say. There were already signs of maturity on his face, but stinginess had also managed to run its furrow across it. One could guess from just the restlessly darting eyes what passion had taken possession of this soul; by the shadow one could already identify the teenager of the tree. Now Scrooge was not alone: ​​a young, beautiful girl in mourning was sitting next to him, and the tears in her eyes reflected to Scrooge a former Christmas Eve, illuminated by the radiance of a ghost. “There’s no need,” she said in a quiet voice, “there’s no need—at least for you!” Another passion replaced yours, your soul bowed before another idol. - In front of what idol is this? - asked Scrooge. - In front of the golden calf. - And here is human justice! - he screamed. “People do not persecute anything so cruelly as poverty, and they are not so bitter against anything as against the desire to get rich.” “You are too afraid of public opinion,” the young girl continued just as tenderly: “you sacrificed your best hopes in order to avoid a shameful secular sentence.” I witnessed how your noblest aspirations were erased one after another - all as a sacrifice to your only passion: self-interest. Is it true? - So what? Let's assume that I'm getting smarter over the years... For you, I'm still the same! She shook her head. -Have I changed? - We have long-standing obligations... We sealed them, poor fellows, both happy with the wretched lot, and both were waiting for an opportunity to settle down. You have changed a lot since then... “But I was a child then,” Scrooge remarked impatiently. -- Well and Now Are you burdened by our previous obligations? “I didn’t say that,” Scrooge remarked again. - They didn’t say it, but they showed it. And if I freed you from your word, would you offer me your hand as before? Scrooge was about to answer, but she continued: “You would do badly to marry me, for you would soon repent, and would joyfully await the day of our certain separation.” That's what she said and disappeared. - Spirit! began Scrooge. - Is it possible not to show me anything like this? Take me home... why do you want to torture me? - Another shadow! - the ghost shouted. “Oh, no - no!...” screamed Scrooge. - Don’t show me anything like that... But the inexorable ghost squeezed him in its strong embrace and forced him to forcibly peer into the past. Instantly they were transported to another place, and a different view struck their eyes. They saw a small, not luxurious, but pleasant and comfortable room. At the hot winter fireplace sat a pretty young girl, so much like first that Scrooge was confused. But he soon saw his first acquaintance, already the mother of the family, surrounded, not counting eldest daughter, a whole bunch of children. It is impossible, even approximately, to imagine what kind of noise and commotion the children raised. They were reminiscent of the old fairy tale about forty silent children, only in reverse: each of them would have gone alone for forty. And suddenly everything fell silent... The hay door swung open with thunder, and the father of the family himself came in - with toys... They were instantly snatched up, and the whole gang disappeared into the little room. The happy father, freed, sat down between his wife and daughter. It was then that Scrooge understood the meaning of the great words of his father and husband, and understood everything that he had lost in life. He wiped his eyes... “Bella,” said the husband, “I saw your old, old friend this evening...” “Really Scrooge?” -- His. He walked past the office, saw the light, looked out the window, alone, as always... They say his assistant is dying. - Spirit! - Scrooge whispered, breathless: - if only you would take me away from here... - I promised you, - said the spirit, - to show the shadows of the past, don’t blame me if the past was... - Take me away , - said Scrooge: - I can no longer bear this sight!... He looked at the spirit, saw that, by an incomprehensible coincidence of circumstances, sees He saw all the old, familiar faces on his face - he saw and rushed at him. -- Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Stop tormenting me! - he shouted. In the midst of the struggle that arose, if I may use the word “struggle” (because the spirit did not lift a finger), Scrooge noticed that the radiance above the head of his opponent flared up more and more. Applying this circumstance to the influence produced on him by the spirit, Scrooge grabbed with both hands the extinguishing funnel known to readers and unexpectedly jammed it onto the ghost, the spirit. He sat down for as long as the funnel lasted. But in vain Scrooge leaned his whole body on this extinguisher: bright rays broke through its metal walls and scattered on the floor. Scrooge had been feeling sleepy for a long time; He made his last effort with an exhausted hand, - he pressed the extinguisher, and fell on his bed, - sleepy, as if dead...

Third stanza
" Second "

Awakened by someone's heroic snoring, Scrooge sat up in bed, and there was nothing to say to him: " what time is it now? " He sensed it in his heart: it was precisely hour! Scrooge remembered very clearly Marley's prophetic words, and a shiver ran through him from head to toe when someone pulled back his curtains, right from the front side of the bed... Wouldn't it be nice, gentlemen, freethinkers, to lie for a minute or two under the same sheet with the venerable Mr. Scrooge?... No one pulled back the curtains; but from the nearest room some kind of fantastic light burst into all the wells, and Scrooge began to think positively: was there, in fact, someone there, nearby? Of course it is: someone even called him. He opened the door to the voice in the nearest room, entered with a candle and saw this: He saw his own living room, but significantly changed. The walls and ceiling were woven with a net of greenery and were adorned with scarlet berries, as if in the living room a whole grove had risen in the evening... In the leaves of holly, mistletoe and ivy, the light reflected and played, as in a myriad of small mirrors. The fire was crackling and burning in the fireplace, and such that the skinny, cold fire of “Scrooge and Marley” had never even suspected such a fire, not even in one winter. On the floor lay in a high heap, something like a throne: turkeys, geese, all kinds of game and living creatures, all kinds of meat - pigs, hams, sausages, sausages, mince pies, plum puddings, barrels of oysters, baked chestnuts, ruddy apples, juicy oranges and pears, huge "Epiphany" pies - and, behind all this, punch bowls full of aroma... The cheerful giant - "for show" sat, stretching, on the sofa; in his hand he had something like a torch, similar to a “cornucopia”, and he raised it when Scrooge looked into the half-open door. - Come in! - the ghost shouted. - Come in, don’t be afraid... Meet me, my dear! Scrooge entered with a timid bow: he was no longer the same gloomy Scrooge, and although the spirit looked at him with a benevolent gaze, Scrooge still did not raise his eyes. - I am the current one holiday ! - said the spirit. - Look at me... Scrooge respectfully obeyed. Holiday he was either in a robe or a tunic, but only in something dark green and with white fur trim. These clothes were thrown on him so carelessly that his entire broad chest came out. The legs were also bare, and on the head there was only a crown of holly, sprinkled with diamonds of frost. The long curls of his black hair flowed freely; the eyes were burning, the hand was extended in a friendly manner; the voice sounded joyful; all his techniques were positively relaxed. At his hip hung a rusty scabbard without a sword. - You have never such haven't you seen it? - the spirit shouted. “Never before,” replied Scrooge. “Didn’t you ever happen to run into my smaller ones on the road... it’s my fault!” - with my older brothers?... I’m still so young!... - said the spirit. “I’m afraid, I’m really afraid, that it didn’t happen,” answered Scrooge. - Do you have many brothers, spirit? “Yes... one thousand eight hundred and something,” said the Spirit. - Family! whispered Scrooge. - That’s how much money goes for the house... The spirit rose from its place. - Listen! - said Scrooge. - Take me somewhere; Today I learned such a lesson that I will never forget... “Touch my clothes,” the spirit answered him. Scrooge grabbed onto it. Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, livestock, hams, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit and punch - all disappeared at once. The room also disappeared, and the fire in the fireplace, and the reddish glow of the fire, even the night itself - everything disappeared. They found themselves already in the morning, Christmas morning, on the street. It was cold; The townsfolk put on a somewhat wild but lively concert, scraping the panels in front of their houses and sweeping snow from the roofs, to the great joy of the boys, who admired these artificial avalanches. The facades of the houses were blackened on the white tablecloth of snow, and the black windows were even blacker on it... But all this did not disturb the cleaners on the roofs: they called to each other, threw snowballs and laughed from the bottom of their hearts if they missed. The green shops and fruit shops shone in their full splendor: pot-bellied chestnuts, which, it seemed, would be struck; Spanish garlic - a photograph of the reddish monks of his homeland, with bullying glances at the girls; again pears; again apples, crowded into delicious pyramids; bunches of grapes, intricately hung by sellers, in exactly the right place to make buyers' mouths water; heaps of mossy and dark nuts, with the smell of amorous forest walks, ankle-deep in dry leaves, juicy oranges and lemons - all this just begged to be put straight into your mouth. The gold and silver fish, despite all the apathy of their nature, also fussily opened their mouths, as if they were about to swallow something. It was on this very day that the following happened at Scrooge's clerk, Mr. Cratchit: Oh! What a wonderful pudding his large family had!... Bob Cratchit announced, quite calmly and seriously, that he recognized this pudding the best work Mrs. Cratchit since their wedding day. Mrs. Cratchit remarked to this that now that such a heavy burden had fallen from her heart, she must declare her former fear: had she not suffered too much torment? Each member of the family considered it his duty to express his opinion on this matter; but no one mentioned that for such a family there was very little pudding. Frankly speaking, it would be bad to think and say this; and any of the Cratchits, at this thought, would have burned with shame. “Finally we had lunch, took off the tablecloth, swept it, and turned on the fire.” Bob made grog and it turned out great; They put apples and oranges on the table and a full handful of baked chestnuts. Then the whole family gathered around the fireplace, as Cratchit put it: all around, that is, he wanted to say in a semicircle; Then they placed in front of him, Bob, all the family crystals, such as two glasses and a milk jug without a handle. So what of this? all the same: the same boiling liquid was poured into them, which would have been poured into golden bowls. Bob proposed the following toast: - Happy holiday, God bless us! The whole family responded. - God bless us! - Spirit! - said Scrooge. - Good spirit!.. Will any of them die of poverty? -- Don't know! - answered the spirit: - even if someone dies, he will only reduce the useless population. Scrooge bowed his head repentantly. - Listen! - the spirit told him. - Do you dare talk about death?... My God! Some insect sits on a piece of paper and talks about the life and death of other insects!... Scrooge humbly accepted this reproach, and, trembling, lowered his gaze to the ground. But soon he raised them when he heard them. - To the health of Mr. Scrooge! - Bob shouted.- I invite everyone to drink to the health of my master, Mr. Scrooge! - Good owner! - interrupted Mrs. Cratchit. - If he fell into my clutches, I would show him... - Yes, dear children!... - Bob remarked, - a holiday... - Is that what a holiday is for, to drink to the health of such a cursed , Robert! You know yourself... - My dear! - Bob continued in the same gentle voice. - Remember: today is Christmas Eve. “I’ll drink to your health, and I’ll drink to Christmas Eve,” objected Mrs. Cratchit; but not for him! And if I drink, it won’t be good for him... But by the way, God bless him - for the holiday! The children drank to Mr. Scrooge's health, following their mother, although reluctantly. One reminder of his name cast a shadow on their bright, children's holiday. But this shadow was momentary, and it flashed... Breaking away from this family scene, Scrooge, along with his spirit, rushed across deserted streets cities. The night was approaching gloomily and blackly; the snow fell in plops; but in both the kitchens and the living rooms the lights sparkled with extraordinary effect. Here, a flickering flame signified preparations for a family meal, with warmed plates and crimson curtains to protect against the cold and darkness of the street. That's where all the kids ran out to meet either their married sisters, or brothers, or cousins, or uncles or aunts, in order to vying with each other to congratulate them on the holiday. Further on the curtains were drawn the silhouettes of beautiful girls, in bonnets and fur boots: they, talkative birds, had gathered somewhere for the evening... And woe to the bachelor (they have already bewitched), and woe to him if he looks at their rouged cheeks frost. Judging by the number of passers-by, one might think that there was not a single person left in the houses to greet the welcome guests, and yet there was not a single house where guests were not expected, where a fireplace full of coals was not burning for them. That’s why, O righteous Lord! How delighted the spirit was! How he revealed his broad chest! How he extended his mighty hand! How he soared above this crowd, splashing handfuls of his bright joy on it, speckling everyone who came to hand! Even the lamplighter, this igniter and sower of sparks of light along the dark streets, even he, completely dressed for the evening, even he laughed when he looked at the spirit, although he did not suspect that he had come face to face with the great “holiday” itself. Suddenly the spirit, without saying a word, transported his interlocutor to such a deserted swamp, lined with such huge stones that, of course, it could be called a cemetery of giants. Water seeped in everywhere, like a spring gushing out of the ground, and the frost laid a hand on it and kept it in due obedience. Apart from moss, except gorse and some skinny blades of grass, there was nothing around. Along the edge of the sky, from sunset, the sun traced a crimson path with its rays over this bleak area, and - you should have seen - how it set, how it closed its eyes and dozed, and how it finally fell completely asleep... - Where are we? - asked Scrooge. - In the very heart of the earth, where miners have been working for so many years... Look!... Having said these words, the spirit rushed with Scrooge past the hut where the old coal miner was celebrating Christmas with his grandchildren... They looked at the joyful faces and flew on... They flew over the noisy sea, straight to the lighthouse; Foamy waves crashed against the lighthouse, splashing onto the wings of stormy seagulls. Daughters, perhaps, of the wind itself, the seagulls sank and rose above the floating meadows of sea grass and algae. But even here, two lighthouse keepers lit a festive light, and it swayed with sparks on the waves. Extending calloused hands to each other, the watchmen sipped grog and congratulated each other on the holiday. The elder of the two began to sing some wild song, so loudly that his voice could be mistaken for the roar of a storm. The spirit kept flying, kept flying over the dark, raging sea, until it landed with Scrooge, far from the shore and any land, on some ship. They stopped either near the helmsman, or near the watch guards and officers, and peered into these dark, fantastic faces; but everyone, no matter whom they approached, either hummed a holiday song, or thought about the holiday, or reminded his comrade of some past holiday - and all this was connected with the joyful hope of returning safely to the arms of family of origin. Everyone, the bad and the good, the bad and the good, everyone exchanged greetings, everyone remembered their relatives and friends, knowing that the people they loved, in turn, also thought about them. Scrooge's surprise was unspeakable when he listened to the howling of the wind and pondered this night flight over unknown, mysterious as death, abysses - Scrooge's surprise was unspeakable - at someone's suddenly heard cheerful laughter. But his surprise transcended all boundaries when he recognized his nephew’s laughter, and he himself found himself in a bright, warm, sparkling clean room. The spirit stood next to him and looked at his nephew tenderly and lovingly. - Ha! Ha! Ha! - Scrooge's nephew burst into tears. - Ha! Ha! Ha! If, against all probability, you happened to meet a person gifted with the ability to laugh with all the fullness of his soul - more and more sincere than Scrooge's nephew, I will tell you one thing: I would persistently ask you to introduce me to your friend. Do me a favor and introduce me. Fate had a very happy, truthful and noble idea - to reward a person, for all his contagious illnesses and sorrows, with an even more contagious and irresistibly cheerful laughter. So Scrooge's nephew laughed at the top of his lungs; His wife and friends laughed heartily: Ha-ha-ha! -- Honestly! - shouted the nephew: - he told me that Christmas time is nothing, and - believe me, he himself is firmly convinced of this! - All the more shame for him, Fred! - Scrooge's betrothed niece remarked indignantly. In general, women don’t do anything halfway and take on every task in earnest. The niece - she is also the wife of Scrooge's nephew - was sweet, that is, extremely sweet, with a charming head, with an ingenuous, sincere expression on her face; and at the same time - what a captivating smile, what lively sparkling eyes! - The great miracle worker is my old man! - continued the nephew. “No doubt, he could have been a little more courteous: but his shortcomings are punished by themselves, and I have nothing to say against him.” “He seems to be very rich, Fred?” - Eh! What's the use of his wealth, my dear? Wealth brings him nothing: he cannot be useful not only to others, not even to himself. He doesn't even have the pleasure of thinking... ha-ha-ha! - that soon he will have to reward us. - I can't stand him! - said the niece. Her sisters and other ladies agreed with her opinion. -- ABOUT! I'm more lenient than you! - the nephew objected. - I just feel sorry for him. Who does his wayward antics harm? for him... I’m not saying this because he refused to have lunch with us - in this case, he only benefits: he got rid of a bad lunch. “Really?... And it seems to me that he lost a very good dinner!...” his young wife interrupted him. All the guests shared this conviction, and - we must tell the truth - they could have been inappropriate judges in this case, for they had just deigned to eat, and at the moment the dessert had not yet left the table, and the whole company crowded around the fireplace, in the light of the lamp. “Honestly, I am very pleased to be dissuaded: until now I had little faith in the ability of the young masters.” Isn't that right, Topper? Probably Topper looked at one of the sisters of Scrooge's niece, which is why he replied: I am a bachelor and nothing more than a pathetic pariah and have no right to express my opinion on such a subject; and the sister of Scrooge's niece - this plump creature in the lace scarf that you see, was all blushing. - Carry on, Fred! - shouted his wife, clapping her hands impatiently. It starts and stops... how unbearable it is! “I just wanted to add that the old man deprived himself of pleasant company; she is certainly more cheerful than his thoughts and the dark, damp office. However, I have not calmed down yet: every year I will go to him with a greeting: how is your health, uncle? I have the honor to congratulate you on the holiday! If I stir him up so much that he at least refuses twelve hundred pounds to his poor clerk, that will be good. I don’t know why, but it seems to me that I greatly shook him yesterday... Now the guests had to laugh at the arrogant claim of the owner - to shake Scrooge. But Fred was a kind fellow, he was not at all offended by jokes, and he also added fun to the company with a round bottle. After tea we started playing music, because all the interlocutors, I assure you, were wonderful performers of various ariettes and ritornellos, and especially Topper: he artistically poured his bass from tone to tone, without straining the veins on his forehead and without blushing like a lobster. The hostess turned out to be an excellent harpist; among other pieces, she played a simple song, so simple that one could whistle it from memory in two minutes; but Scrooge shuddered: this song was sung by a little girl who had once attended him at school. .. After the music they started playing forfeits, and above all blind man's buff. In blind man's buff, Topper again distinguished himself with his trickery and dexterity in pursuing a plump girl in a lace scarf: no matter how she dropped the fireplace grate, then a chair, no matter how she hid behind the curtains, he caught her in some corner. The hostess did not take part in the blind man's buff, but sat down to the side on a quiet chair and put her feet on a stool; behind the chair stood the spirit and Scrooge. But she took an active part in the forfeits and then, to Fred’s great pleasure, she showed herself: she outshone everyone, even her sisters, although they were far from stupid - just ask Topper... She was especially distinguished in " how much do you love him"and in" where, when and why?"Fred himself fell apart and the spirit did not take his benevolent glances off him, to such an extent that Scrooge began to beg him, like a child, to wait until the guests left; but the spirit said that this was impossible. - Here's another new game! - - said Scrooge: - another half hour, spirit, only half an hour... They played " Yes and no". Fred had to be in charge: he had to think of a word, and the players had to guess, offering him questions and demanding an answer from him or Yes or no ? Bombarded by the crossfire of questions, Fred was forced, willy-nilly, to make several confessions, namely, what he thought about the animal: that the animal was alive; an unpleasant, wild animal; that sometimes it growls, sometimes it grunts, but before it spoke; that it is found in London and even walks the streets, but that it is not shown for money, is not led on a leash, is not kept in a menagerie, and is not killed in a slaughterhouse; that it is neither a horse, nor a donkey, nor a cow, nor a bull, nor a tiger, nor a dog, nor a pig, nor a cat, nor a bear. - With each new question, the scammer Fred burst into laughter so much that he jumped up from the sofa and began to stomp his feet. Finally, the plump sister burst into laughter and screamed. - You guessed right, you guessed right, Fred! I know what it is? - What is it? asked Fred. “Your Uncle Skru-u-j?” That's exactly what happened. This was followed by a general outburst of praise, although there were some slight criticisms. - Well, what then? - Fred noted. “He gave us so much pleasure that it wouldn’t be a sin for us to drink to his health, fortunately we have a glass of burnt drink in our hands!” - for the health of Uncle Scrooge! - It's coming! To the health of Uncle Scrooge! - the guests picked up. - Happy holiday and happy new year to the old man, whoever he is! - Fred shouted: he didn’t want my verbal congratulations, let him accept it in absentia: for the health of Uncle Scrooge! Scrooge took such part in the general fun that he was about to make a speech of thanks; but suddenly the whole scene disappeared, and the spirit and Scrooge were off again. Their journey was long: they saw many places, visited many monasteries and dwellings. The spirit came to the bedside of the sick, and they forgot their ailments; and for a moment it seemed to the suffering exile that he was falling again into the bosom of his dear homeland. He enlightened the soul, doomed to a desperate struggle with fate, with a sense of self-sacrifice and hope for a better fate; approached the poor - and they considered themselves rich. Into houses of charity, to hospitals and prisons, to all the dens of poverty, everywhere where a vain and proud person could not - with his insignificant, transient power - deny entry and block the paths of the disembodied spirit - everywhere the spirit brought with him - blessings, everywhere Scrooge heard from him the commandment of mercy. This night was long if everything happened in one night; but Scrooge doubted; it seemed to him that several Christmas Eves had merged into one during the time he was in spirit. Another oddity: Scrooge did not notice the slightest external change in himself, and his spirit apparently became older and older. This change did not escape Scrooge, but he did not say a word until, leaving one of the dons, where a crowd of children was glorifying the Epiphany, he saw that the hair on the spirit’s head had turned white. - Is the life of spirits so short? - he asked when they were alone. “Indeed,” answered the spirit, “my life is globe very short; it ends tonight. - Tonight! - Scrooge screamed. -- Exactly at midnight. Chu? the hour is near. At this time the clock struck about three quarters of ten. “Excuse my indiscreet question,” said Scrooge, peering intently at the spirit’s clothes: “I see under the hem of your dress something strange that does not belong to you... What is it: a leg or a claw?” “It could be called a claw, because there is a little meat on top,” answered the spirit sadly. - Look! He opened the tails of his clothes and two children fell out - two poor creatures - despicable, disgusting, vile, disgusting, repulsive; they fell to their knees at Scrooge's feet and clung to his dress. - Oh, man! bow, bow your eyes to your feet! - the spirit shouted. They were a boy and a girl - yellow, thin, in rags, with frowning faces, fierce, although reptiles - in their vile humiliation. Instead of the attractive infancy that should have covered their cheeks with a fresh spring blush, someone’s faded, withered hand, like the hand of time, wrinkled these sunken cheeks and erased the life colors from them; in these eyes, from where it seemed that angels should have smiled at God’s world, now demons nested and cast threatening glances. No change, no decline, no perversion of the human race, to the highest degree, and with all the mysterious deviations of nature, could ever produce such monsters, disgusting and terrible. Scrooge recoiled, pale with fear. - However, not wanting to offend the spirit, perhaps the parent of these children, he wanted to say: “What cute children!”, but the words themselves stopped in his throat so as not to participate in such an incredible lie. - Spirit, are these your children? That's all Scrooge could say. “Children of men,” answered the spirit; - they turned to me with a petition against their fathers. This one is called “ignorance,” and this one is called “poverty.” Fear both and their offspring; but be more afraid of the first - I read on his forehead: " a curse". “Hurry, O Babylon!” cried the spirit, stretching out his hand to the city: hasten to blot out this word - it condemns you even more than this unfortunate one: he is only to misfortune, you are to destruction! Dare to say that you are not to blame, slander even your accusers: it may serve you for a while, to achieve your criminal goals; but... beware of the end! - And they have no shelter! no means! - cried Scrooge. - How!... Are there no prisons? - asked the spirit, in last time repeating mockingly own words Scrooge: Are there no straithouses? The clock began to strike midnight. Scrooge looked at the spirit, but the spirit was no longer there. At the last dying blow, Scrooge remembered the prediction of old Jacob Marley and looked up: a majestic-looking ghost, wrapped in a wide robe with a veil, flew up to him, gliding along the ground like steam.

Fourth stanza

The ghost approached slowly, important and silent. When he was already quite close, Scrooge bowed his knee before him, because the ghost seemed to be pouring some kind of gloomy and mysterious horror into the air around him. The long black robe completely covered him from head to toe and left only one outstretched arm outside: otherwise it would have been very difficult to distinguish him and separate him from the thick shadows of the night. Scrooge noticed that the ghost tall , majestic posture, and that his mysterious presence instills in a person solemn fear and awe. But he could no longer find out anything else, because the ghost did not say a single word, did not make a single movement. - Perhaps I have the honor of being in the presence of the future holiday? - asked Scrooge. The ghost did not answer, but did not lower his outstretched hand. - You will show me something that should happen, but has not happened yet... isn’t it? - continued Scrooge. The upper folds of black clothing moved closer together for a moment, as if a ghost had bowed its head; but this movement was his only answer. Although accustomed to dealing with spirits, Scrooge still felt such horror in the presence of this silent ghost that his legs trembled and he could hardly stand on them when he prepared to follow his guide. The ghost stopped for a moment, as if he wanted to give Scrooge time to gather his strength. But Scrooge’s excitement only intensified, especially when he thought that through this black shroud the motionless gaze of a ghost was fixed on him. - Spirit of the future! - he screamed. “I fear you more than all the previous ghosts; but since I know that you wish me well; since my intention is to change my way of life, I am gratefully ready to follow you... Will you talk to me? No answer. Only point forward with your outstretched arm. - Lead me! - said Scrooge. “The night is moving quickly, and I know that this time is precious for me.” Lead me, spirit? The ghost also moved away as it approached. Scrooge watched him in the shadow of his clothes, and it seemed to him that this shadow lifted him and carried him away with it. It cannot be said definitively that they entered the city: rather, the city floated around them and enveloped them in its movement. In any case, they found themselves in the very heart of the City at the stock exchange, among the merchants: the merchants were quickly darting in all directions, money jingling in their pockets, gathering in groups to talk about business, looking at their watches, thoughtfully rattling their huge key rings... etc. d. - in a word; they were all the same as Scrooge had seen them so often. The ghost stopped near a small group of these capitalists, and Scrooge, noticing the direction of his hand, also came up to listen to the conversation. “No,” said the tall, fat gentleman with a monstrous chin, “I don’t know anything else—I only know that I’m dead.” -- When? “Last night, I think.” - How did he manage his fortune? - asked another gentleman with a growth on his nose that looked like the crop of an Indian rooster. - Really, I don’t know... Maybe he bequeathed it to his Society... in any case: not for me- this is what I know for sure. General laughter greeted this joke. “I think,” the gentleman with the growth spoke, the funeral will not cost him much: no one knew him and there will not be many people willing to see his body off. However, I think I’ll go: I’d just like a snack! - Well, then I’m more unselfish than all of you, gentlemen! - The gentleman with the double chin spoke. “I don’t wear black gloves, I don’t eat at funerals, but I’ll still go, even without an invitation, and that’s why it seems to me that the deceased considered me his true friend - no matter how he meets, he’ll always talk... goodbye, gentlemen.” ! The group laughed and mingled with others. Scrooge recognized all these gentlemen and looked at the ghost as if he wanted to ask him for an explanation. The ghost slid into a side street and pointed his finger at the two gentlemen who had just met. Scrooge began to listen again, hoping to at least find out the word of the riddle. He knew the gentlemen very well: they were two rich, respectable merchants, and Scrooge very much appreciated their respect for himself, of course, respect in business, simply and positively only in business. -- How are you? - said one. -- And how are you? - asked another. -- Yes OK. And the old "Gobseck" of that... completely paid off... Hm? - They told me... But it’s cold, isn’t it? - It's time! It's time: Christmas time... I assume you don't skate? - No, no: I have something else to think about... Goodbye? And not a word more. Such were their meetings, conversation and farewell. Scrooge was at first surprised why the ghost attached such importance to empty talk; but, internally convinced that there must be some meaning hidden in them, he began to think to himself - what exactly is it? It is difficult to imagine that in all this there is a hint of Jacob’s death: it happened so long ago, and the ghost is a harbinger of the future. There is no one to think about his acquaintances... Nevertheless, without doubting that a mysterious lesson was being prepared for him here, for his own good, Scrooge decided not to drop a single word, not to ignore even the slightest circumstance, and most importantly not to let eye from your second I, upon his appearance: Scrooge was sure that his behavior future self will serve as a clue to him. He began to look for yourself at the stock exchange, but his usual place in his favorite corner was occupied by someone else and, although the stock exchange clock showed exactly the time when he appeared here, however, in the large crowd crowded on the porch of the building, there was no one in the slightest degree similar on his person. This, however, did not surprise him at all: he thought that with a future change in the type of his life, of course his type of occupation would also change. The ghost stood opposite him, motionless, gloomy, with his arm outstretched. When Scrooge woke up, it seemed to him, from the movement of his hand and from the upright position of the ghost, that his eyes were invisible and fixed intently on him! At this thought, he trembled from head to toe... Leaving the noisy disgrace of trade and transactions, they were transported to a remote nook of the city, where Scrooge had never been, but knew well, according to rumors, the bad reputation about this nook. Dirty, narrow streets; shops and houses; the inhabitants - half naked, drunk, on bare feet - disgusting... Dark, covered passages, like sewers, spewed into the labyrinth of streets - both residents and their suffocating smell; the whole quarter breathed crime, dirt, and poverty. At the very bottom of this lair one could see, under a protruding canopy, an iron bench: iron, rags, broken glass, bones, shards of dishes, rusty keys, toothless saws, bolts, scales, weights - everything was in it. [ We have published some details of Charles Dickens's story because they have an incomprehensible, indescribable, purely London flavor to most readers. From this release, in our extreme conviction, the story loses a little... of course for Holy Rus'.] Perhaps this heap of oily rags and bones contained such secrets that it would be better not to know them. In front of all this rubbish sat a gentleman, about seventy years old, gray-haired and flabby; sat behind a holey curtain hanging on the window and smoked a short pipe, enjoying complete solitude. Scrooge and the ghost appeared before him - just at the moment when a woman staggered into the shop, with a heavy bundle on her back. Following her, another woman entered, with the same knot, and a man in a black shabby dress. They all seemed surprised to see each other. After a few moments of bewilderment, shared by the owner, they all burst out laughing. - Go, go into the hall! - said the owner. “Well, there you go,” said the first woman. What? Shouldn't he act like all good people? I would take a sister of mercy: at least there would be someone to close his eyes... Otherwise he would die in his kennel like a dog... But what’s wrong?... Untie my knot, Joy! But old Joy first untied the man's knot - the gravedigger; he was not a climber: a signet - another, a pencil holder, two sleeve cufflinks, a penny pin - that's all... Old Man Joy examined each item separately and marked with chalk on the wall the amount appropriate for each item. “Here’s what I can give you,” he said, and—fry me over a small fire—I won’t add sixpence... Who’s there? There were two in line ladies". “I always pass before the ladies!” said Joy, accepting from the second visitor a tablecloth, napkins, a pair of dresses, two old teaspoons, sugar tongs and a number of boots. “I always pass before the ladies,” - and this is my weakness!... Here is your bill... If you ask for an increase in money, I will be forced to discount my first estimate." Well, now, Joy! untie my knot! " said the first visitor. Joy knelt down, untied many knots, and pulled out a piece of some dark material. “What is this?” he asked. “Bed curtains?” “Of course!” the woman answered with a laugh. “It can’t be.” so that you take them off with him?- Why? - Well!... You were born rich, and you will... - What? My hand won’t tremble... the saleswoman asked completely calmly: is it really something to regret? - So this is his curtains and sheets? - And whose? Aren't you afraid that he'll catch a runny nose? “I hope he didn’t die from some contagious disease... hmm?” asked old Joy, raising his head. - Don't be afraid, Joy! Am I really that stupid to get involved with him if only?... Oh! You can turn this shirt inside out and there it is: I can tell you that it’s good - his best shirt... Thank God that I turned up: without me it would have been lost... - What? is this missing? - asked old man Joy. - Well, here’s the thing: they probably would have buried him in this shirt; - she answered, laughing: in my opinion, - not so: the dead man doesn’t care what he lies in: calico or linen... Scrooge barely listened to this conversation. In general, all the faces seemed to him like demons, dissecting, vying with each other, someone’s corpse. He recoiled in horror, for the scene had changed, and he could hardly touch the bed, without curtains: on the bed, under the holey sheet, lay something , understandable only in the terrible language of death. The room was very dark, too dark to see anything in it, although Scrooge peered into this twilight with inquisitive eyes. A pale light from outside fell directly on the bed where the corpse of this naked, robbed, abandoned, unmourned and unguarded dead man lay. Scrooge looked at the spirit; he pointed his finger at the dead man's head. The shroud was thrown on so carelessly that all you had to do was touch it with your finger, and the whole face of the dead man would be visible. Scrooge understood this; He even had an urge to lift the shroud, but... he didn’t have enough strength. Oh, cold - cold, terrible scarecrow - death! Build your altars here, surround them with all your horrors: you are the complete mistress here!... But if you fall on a beloved, revered and dear head, you will not have power over a single hair of that head. It’s not that this hand doesn’t fall lifelessly heavy, it’s not that this pulse doesn’t stop, no! - but this hand was open honestly, warmly and generously for everyone; but this heart was noble, warm and tender beating in the chest... Strike, strike, merciless death. Your blows are in vain: beyond fleeting life is immortality!.. No one uttered these words; but Scrooge heard them, looking at the bed. “If this man came to life...” thought Scrooge, “what would he say about his past?” Stinginess, hardness of heart, thirst for acquisitions - this is what they lead to! And here he is, here he is - lying in an empty gloomy house: there is no man, no woman, no child who could say: he helped me then and then, and I will repay him in turn, at least for your kind words. There was no one. Only a cat was scratching at the door, and rats were gnawing something under the stone flooring of the fireplace. And what did they need in this funeral room? Why were they so raging?... Scrooge did not even dare to think about it... - Spirit! he said: this room is terrible. Having left her, I will not forget the lesson given to me... Believe me... and - quickly leave! The ghost still pointed his motionless finger at the head of the corpse. “I understand you,” said Scrooge, and I would do what you want if I could... But I have no strength... I have no strength, Spirit!... Show me something where death is bid farewell with tender tears?... The ghost rushed him through the familiar streets, and they entered the house of poor Bob Cratchit. Grief knocked on his door: his dear, sick, lame son, whom he always carried on his shoulder, died, his dear one, dear Tiny-Tim, died. The mother and the other children were sitting by the fireplace... They were calm, very calm. The small, noisy Cratchits stood petrified in the corner and did not take their eyes off their older brother Peter and the book unfolded in front of him. The mother and girls were sewing something like that. The whole family was completely calm. " And he placed a boy among them". Where did Scrooge hear these words?.. but he did not hear them in a dream. Peter probably read them aloud when Scrooge and the spirit crossed the threshold... But why did Peter stop reading? His mother put the work on the table and covered her face hands. “It seems, father?” she said a little later, and ran towards her poor Bob. Bob entered in his inseparable " hide your nose", - and it’s good that this time I wasn’t separated from him. Almost the whole family brought him tea heated in the fireplace, vying with each other. Both little Cratchit climbed onto his knees, and each pressed their cheek to his cheek, as if saying: Don’t think about this, daddy!... Don't be upset. Bob was very cheerful, praised his wife's work and said that she would probably be ready before Sunday? - Sunday! So, - you visited today there, Robert? - asked the wife. -- Yes. I am very sorry that you were not there... the place is excellent - everything is green all around... However, you will see... I promised him that I would go for a walk with him on Sundays... My poor, dear child ! - Bob shouted. And he burst into tears uncontrollably... He hurriedly left the room and went up to the upper apartment, lit and decorated with flowers in a festive manner. There was a chair opposite the dead child's bed, and it seemed as if someone had just gotten out of it. Bob sat down, in turn, sat and stood up, stood up, kissed the cold, sweet face, and went downstairs... The ghost quickly, quickly rushed Scrooge out of this room and did not stop anywhere until Scrooge himself said: “Wait!” .. here is the yard and the house, familiar to me for a long time... let me see - what should I be? The ghost stopped; but his hand was extended in a different direction. “But that’s where the house is,” remarked Scrooge, “why are you beckoning me further?” The ghost's inexorable finger did not change its position. Scrooge hurriedly ran to the window of his office and looked inside: the office remained an office - just not his. And the furniture was different, and it wasn’t him sitting in the chairs. The ghost kept pointing his hand somewhere... Scrooge completely lost his head and was transported with his counselor to some kind of iron grate. - Without yet stepping over it, he looked around... the cemetery! Here, probably, lies, under several feet of earth, that unfortunate man, whose mysterious name Scrooge will now recognize. By God, it was a nice place: all around were the walls of neighboring houses: there was turf and weeds on the ground; so many graves, so many graves clarified they are a land that makes you sick... A nice place!... The spirit pointed to one grave - Scrooge walked up to it and read: - " Ebenezer Scrooge". - So it was I who saw myself on my deathbed? - Scrooge shouted, falling to his knees. The spirit pointed his finger at him and at the grave, then at the grave and at him. - No, spirit, no - no, no! The finger of the spirit seemed frozen in the same position. “Spirit!” cried Scrooge, clutching the ghost’s dress, listen to me; I am no longer the same person, I will not be the same person as before I met you. .. Why are you showing me all this, if there is no longer hope for me?" For the first time, the ghost's hand moved. "Good spirit!" continued Scrooge, who was lying face down: "intercede for me, have mercy on me. Convince me, that I can change all these images if I change my life?" The ghost waved his hand benevolently. "I will honor Christmastide with all my heart, and I will wait for them. all year round. I will live in the past, present and future: all three of you spirits have given me unforgettable lessons... Oh! tell me that I can erase this inscription from the gravestone? Scrooge desperately grabbed the ghost's hand: the hand slipped out, but Scrooge squeezed it as if with pincers; however, the ghost was still stronger than Scrooge, and pushed him away. Raising both hands in a final plea for a change in his fate, Scrooge noticed that the spirit's clothes were becoming thinner and thinner, and the spirit itself was gradually transformed, and was transformed into a curtained bedpost.

Fifth stanza

Indeed, it was a curtain post. Yes. And the post above Scrooge's own bed, and even in Scrooge's own bedroom. He had a whole day ahead of him - to recover and change his lifestyle. “I will live in the past and in the present...” repeated Scrooge, jumping out of bed. “Three spiritual lessons stuck in my memory. Oh, Jacob Marley! May the feast of the Nativity of Christ be hallowed. - They haven’t been removed, they haven’t been removed! - continued Scrooge, hugging the bed curtains with a sob. And the rings are intact... And all I saw was a dream!... He wrinkled and kneaded the dress, not understanding what he was doing. -- My God! - he said, grabbing the stockings in both hands and standing with them in the pose of Laocoon, entwined with snakes. -- God! I am lighter than fluff, happier than a disembodied spirit, more cheerful than a schoolboy, drunker than wine!... Happy holiday! I have the honor to congratulate everyone on the holiday!... Hey! who's there! Ay!... Ho-ho-ho!... In one leap he jumped from the bedroom to the living room and stopped there, out of breath. - Here is the saucepan with the gruel! - he shouted. - Here is the door, through her Marley's ghost has entered! Here is the corner where the current Christmas Eve sat! Here is the window from where I watched the sinful souls: everything is in place, everything is in order... Ha-ha-ha-ha! And it was like this... For a man who had not laughed for so many years, this laughter was solemnly magnificent, it was the ancestor of endless roller coasters. laughter. - I don’t know - what is our date today? - continued Scrooge. “I don’t know how much time I spent between spirits.” I don’t know anything: I’m just a child... And how I wish I was a little child... Hey, hey, hey, hey!... His delight was tempered by the church bells, ringing loudly: "Ding-deeny dong-boom, boom! Ding ding dong, boom, boom, boom! Don, ding-dong, boom"!-- Great! Great! - shouted Scrooge; ran to the window and looked out into the street. There was no frost or fog: it was a clear, fresh day, one of those that cheers and strengthens, and drives the blood through the veins to “dance.” Golden Sun; blue sky; bell ringing... Excellent! Great!... - What day is it today? - Scrooge shouted from the window to some boy who was probably staring at him. -- What? - asked the amazed boy. - What day is it today, my dear? - repeated Scrooge. -- Today? - the boy asked again. - Yes, today is Christmas. -- Christmas! - thought Scrooge. - So I didn’t lose him. The spirits arranged everything in one night. They can do anything - who doubts that? - everyone can... - Hey, hey, dear? -- Well? - answered the boy. - Do you know the butcher shop on the corner of second street? -- Certainly. -- Smart child! - Scrooge remarked to himself. - The child is wonderful... Do you know whether the turkey is sold or not, not the small one, but which one is larger? -- A! This is what will happen to me? - Delightful child! whispered Scrooge. It’s fun to talk to him... - Well, this one, my little kitten! - Not sold yet. - Really?.. - Go buy it. - Joker! - answered the boy. “No,” said Scrooge, “I’m not joking.” Buy it and tell it to be brought to me. I'll give you the address where to take it. Take some boy from the shop with you, and here's a shilling for you. “If you come back with your purchase in five minutes, I’ll give you more.” The boy flew like an unstoppable arrow. “I’ll send this turkey to Bob Cratchit,” whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands and laughing: “he won’t know - from whom?” She's twice as thick as Tiny Tim... I'm sure Bob will understand this joke... He wrote the address with a somewhat trembling hand, and went downstairs to meet the clerk from the butcher shop. A door knocker caught his eye. - All my life I will love you! said Scrooge, stroking the hammer. - And until now I didn’t notice him!... And what an honest expression in his entire face... Oh, my kind, my elegant hammer! And here comes the turkey!... You are such a thing! Ege-ge-ge-ge! “We have the honor to congratulate you on the holiday”!.. And sure enough, there was a turkey!... I don’t believe that this bird would ever stand on its feet, they would have broken under it like wax sticks. “But here’s the thing: you can’t take it down to Camden Town, said Scrooge: you have to take a cab” [ Cab - something like a convertible, i.e. a two-wheeled cart, or cart .]. All this was said with laughter; with a laugh, with a cheerful laugh, Scrooge paid for both the turkey and the cab, with a laugh he gave the money to the boy, and, gasping for breath and laughing until he cried, fell into his chair. Then he shaved, dressed in his best dress, and went out for a walk through the streets. There was a thick crowd in the streets; Scrooge looked at everyone smugly, put his hands behind his back, so smugly that three or four passing onlookers could not resist and greeted him with the words: “Hello, sir! We have the honor to congratulate you on the holiday!” Before he had gone a few steps, he was met by that elegant gentleman who had come to his office the day before with the question: “Scrooge and Marley, it seems?” Scrooge was embarrassed; but he immediately recovered himself, and said, taking the honorable gentleman by both hands: “How are you, sir?” I hope that yesterday, to your credit, was a good day? Let me congratulate you on the holiday, sir! - Mister Scrooge? -- Yes. I'm afraid this nickname is not entirely pleasant for you? Allow me to apologize: would you be so kind as to... (Scrooge said a few words in the venerable gentleman's ear.) - Lord! really? - asked the gentleman, breathless. My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious? - No jokes! - answered Scrooge. - I am paying off an old debt, if your grace will accept?... - Dear sir! - the interlocutor interrupted Scrooge, shaking his hand in a friendly manner: I don’t know how to praise such a great thing... - For God’s sake, not a word more! - Scrooge stopped him. - Come to me... you will come, won’t you? -- ABOUT! without any doubt! - the old gentleman cried convincingly. “Thank you,” said Scrooge. “I am infinitely obliged to you, and I offer my gratitude a thousand times over.” "Farewell". He went into church; ran through the streets; gave the boys a few light clicks on the heads; I was amazed at the pleasantness of my walk, and in the afternoon I headed towards my nephew’s house. He walked past the familiar door a dozen times and did not dare to enter. Finally he dared and knocked. - Is the master at home, my dear? - Scrooge asked the maid: - how pretty you are, by God!... - At home, sir! - Where is it, cutie? - In the dining room, sir, with Mrs.... If you allow, I will accompany you. “Thank you: he knows me,” replied Scrooge, leaning on the handle of the lock. - I'll come in myself. He opened the door and stuck his head in. The young couple examined the festively laid table... - Fred! - said Scrooge. - Oh my God! - how his betrothed niece shuddered! Scrooge forgot how she was sitting in a chair with her feet on a stool: otherwise he would not have dared to enter so accidentally. -- God! - Fred screamed: - who is that there? “I, I, your Uncle Scrooge... I’ve come for dinner... can I come in?” That was the question! Fred almost sprained his arm while dragging him into the dining room. Five minutes later Scrooge was right at home. Nothing could have been more cordial than the welcome of his nephew and niece. They did exactly the same thing when Topper and the plump sister and all the other guests arrived. What an amazing society, what an amazing game of forfeits, what u-di-vi-tel-noe fun. The next day Scrooge came early to his office - oh! early, early... All he wanted was to come before Bob Cratchit and catch him at the crime scene. And so he succeeded! The clock rang nine - Bob was gone; nine and a quarter - still no Bob. Bob was eighteen and a half minutes late. Scrooge sat in the open door so that he could better see Bob descend into his well. Before opening the door yet, Bob took off his hat and hid his nose; and then, in the blink of an eye, he found himself on his stool and put his pen to paper as if he wanted to catch up with the nine hours that had flown away. - Hey, sir! - shouted Scrooge, falling as faithfully as possible into his previous tone: - why so late? - I feel very unpleasant, sir! - said Bob. - I'm a little late. - We're late! - continued Scrooge. - It really seems to me that you are late. Come here... - Once a year, sir! - Bob remarked timidly, getting out of his well. “It won’t happen again... I went on a little spree yesterday, sir!...” “That’s all good,” said Scrooge, “but I must tell you, dear friend, that I cannot tolerate such disorder.” And therefore, he added, jumping up from the stool and pushing Bob under the side so that he flew towards his well, therefore, I want to increase your salary. Bob trembled and extended his hand to the ruler. There was a moment when he wanted to hit Scrooge with a ruler, grab him by the collar and call people to put a fever shirt on Scrooge. - Happy holiday, Bob! - Scrooge said importantly and patted his clerk on the shoulder in a friendly manner. - More cheerful than ever. I will increase your salary and try to help your hardworking family. Today we'll talk about our business over a Christmas glass of bischof, Bob! Scrooge not only kept his word, but did much, much more than he promised. For Tiny-Tim (he, of course, never thought of dying), Scrooge truly became a second father. And Scrooge became such a good friend, such a good master and such a good man, like every citizen of every good, old city, in the good, old world. There were gentlemen who laughed at such a change, but Scrooge allowed them to laugh, and did not even turn an ear. In retaliation to these gentlemen, he himself laughed from the fullness of his soul. He stopped all relations with spirits; but he made friends with people, and prepared to celebrate Christmastide with them in a friendly manner every year, and everyone gave him complete justice, that no one celebrated the holidays so cheerfully. If they said the same about you, about me, about all of us... And then, as Tiny-Tim put it: " May the Lord save us all, no matter how many of us there are!"