Marley: Stave II

In Stave II, Marley learns how his road to damnation began and how he might save Ebenezer from the same fate.

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Marley

by Thomas Broderick

Stave II

Marley roamed the Earth for three years. From London’s East End to the hovels of Bombay, he witnessed every form of human misery imaginable. During this time, he came across countless other ghosts like himself. Their chains differed somewhat, but they were still a reflection of similar sin.

Marley’s journey brought him back to London on a cold Christmas Eve. The city had changed little, and for the first time since his death, Marley thought of his old partner Scrooge. 

Scrooge & Marley. The sign was still there but now showed neglect. A dim light flickered from within the office. Closed doors no obstacle, Marley stepped inside. 

Sitting at his desk, Scrooge examined some papers. His frame pencil thin, he had grown nearly unrecognizable. Hollow cheeks the color of ivory supported a mouth frozen into a permanent frown. 

Nearby was Marley's desk, untouched but for the thick layer of dust that Scrooge had allowed to collect on its surface.

In the adjoining room was a man that Marley had never seen. He was much younger, about the same age Marley and Scrooge had been when they had opened their firm. Perched on a narrow stool, he performed arithmetic on a massive ledger. Near him was an unlit stove. 

Marley watched the man rub his hands together. “Don’t feel too bad, young fellow. Scrooge was always a miser, even in my day.”

It seemed pointless to stay. Marley took one last look at Scrooge. “Goodbye, old friend.” He turned to leave. At that moment, something strange happened to Marley. It was something that hadn’t happened since his death. 

Marley tripped and fell to the floor. 

He could touch nothing in the mortal world, and he had learned early on to avoid his chains when walking. Marley stood and looked for the offending object. It was a chain that had tripped him, but it had not been his. 

Marley gasped. The long chains, like predator snakes, were coiled around the floor. They led up toward Scrooge and bound him around the chest. A mighty iron padlock resting over Scrooge’s heart bound them together. 

Marley cautiously reached out and touched one of the links. It was real enough. It even felt warm, as if it was still cooling from the fires of Hell from whence it came. 

“Don’t you see it, Ebenezer?” Marley’s words were barely a whisper. Marley picked up the chain and pulled as hard as he could. Scrooge did not budge, let alone notice. 

Marley dropped the chain and let his head droop. “Of course, you don’t feel it. I did not feel mine in life, either. I wonder, did you not have these when I died? I did not see it then. Maybe I couldn’t. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to until now, until it was too late.” 

The next day was Christmas. Scrooge came back to his office, alone, and continued working. Marley decided to stay, lingering near his friend. At dusk, as Scrooge prepared to go home, a pale figure stopped outside the office window. It peered inside, right at Jacob Marley. 

#

For the next year, Marley did not leave Scrooge's side. As the days lengthened, so did Scrooge’s chains. At night, Marley could hear their links scrape together as the miser tossed in his sleep. Inside the lockboxes, Scrooge’s damnation jingled like birdsong. 

The Christmas season came once again. If it had not been for Scrooge’s exclamations of “Bah Humbug!,” Marley would not have noticed. 

As the year before, Scrooge worked late on Christmas Eve. 

“I suspect you’ll want tomorrow off, Cratchit,” Scrooge said, not looking up from his work as his assistant prepared to leave. 

“If it would be all right, sir.” 

“Fine. Day after next. Nine SHARP. Expect to find new employment if you are one second late.” 

“Yes, Mr. Scrooge. Merry Christmas.”

"Humbug," Scrooge muttered, his eyes never leaving the papers on his desk. 

At midnight, London’s bells announced Christmas Day. Scrooge paused in his work just long enough to eat stale bread and thin soup.

“I don’t understand it,” Marley said, his first words all day. “Even with Cratchit gone, you continue to sit in the cold and eat miserable food. All the gold in the world won’t save your soul, Ebenezer, but at least you could afford some comfort now.”

As Marley finished speaking, there was a soft knock on the office’s front door. Scrooge did get up from his seat. He did not even shift his gaze. The knock happened again, but firmer this time.

“Are you going deaf, too, old friend?”

Marley looked at the door just in time for the third knock, a deafening roar with the strength of thunder. As it shook the room, beams of light shone through the frame’s cracks. Blinded, Marley covered his face in horror. After a moment, the room fell back into darkness.

“Please, do not be afraid.” It was a gentle, calm voice.  

Marley lowered his arms and looked at the voice's owner. Like a figure in a Renaissance painting, the spirit was bathed in holy light. Its features, both male and female, shimmered. The clothes were pristine robes the color of pale gold. Above its head, a lit candle floated like an angelic halo. 

“What are you?” Marley stammered. 

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. Merry Christmas, Jacob Marley.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I have known you since your first Christmas, since before your soul carried a single chain.” The spirit frowned. “That is part of the reason I am here. Last Christmas, as I visited the world, I saw you here with this man, Ebenezer Scrooge. You are still here today.”

“What of it?” 

“It is not for me to tell you what to do with eternity.” The spirit turned its head to Scrooge. “I am just curious why since last year you follow this man as a dog would his owner.”

Marley scoffed. “I am no dog.” 

“Then, why stay?”

“This man, Ebenezer Scrooge, is…was my only friend. As you can see, he is going to suffer my fate. When his time comes, I wish to be there.”

The spirit nodded. “You must already know, though, that your kind cannot speak to one another.”

Marley sighed. It had been shortly after death that he first encountered another damned spirit. When he tried to speak, only a terrifying howl had escaped his lips. It was so for the other spirit, as well. Since then, Marley only spoke to those he could not help.

“It is a shame,” the spirit said. It stepped closer to Marley. “I do not pity you, Jacob Marley. I know what you became, what you did. Your chains’ every link tells a story of unimaginable cruelty committed against mankind. But I also know what you were, and what Ebenezer Scrooge was. If you would like, I could show you some happier times, when you were a better man.”

Marley placed his hands over his eyes. “Why do I deserve such mercy?”

Eyes glistening, the spirit smiled. “Because it is Christmas. We will not be gone long, and I am sure Mr. Scrooge will still be here when we get back. Now please, take hold of my robe.”

The spirit’s robe felt softer than any silk. In an instant, he and the spirit had traveled through time and space. Instead of Scrooge’s office, they stood in the dining room of a country estate. A roaring fire warmed the room. Its light illuminated numerous oil paintings of past generations. On the table, mince pies, duck, and roast beef glistened and steamed. 

“This is…” Before Marley had the chance to say another word, the door swung open and entered a man he had not seen in nearly fifty years.

His father.

“Come, family,” the senior Marley said in a loud but happy voice. “We shouldn’t let it become cold.”

Marley remained speechless as he watched his mother, younger sister, and finally, his eight-year-old self file into the room. The loving family sat around the table, and after prayers, began to eat.

“Do you remember this?” The spirit whispered into Marley’s ear.

Marley nodded and stepped behind his sister's chair. "This was the last Christmas before we lost mother and Jane.” He reached out to touch the girl, but like everything else, his fingers drifted through her.   

“How did they die?”

“Father contracted the pox while on a trip to London. We were all sickened. He and I survived, but…”

The spirit placed its arm on Marley’s shoulder. “You need not speak anymore. I’m sorry this memory hurts you so.” 

“It’s all right.” He took one last look at his sister. “May we see another?”

“Of course.”

Marley took the spirit’s robe, and they appeared in the middle of a bustling avenue. Marley's eyes immediately gleamed with excitement. “Paris!” He exclaimed. "Father died when I was twenty. He had become such a bitter man. I needed to get away. I used a portion of my inheritance to tour Europe." Marley's eyes darted back and forth, trying to soak in everything at once. “I was here the year before the revolution. It must be Christmas 1788!”

“Indeed, it is. Would you like me to show you the way?”

“No need. I remember this as if it were yesterday.”

Marley led the spirit up a side street and through the courtyard of a manor. From the windows came a warm glow and the sound of music.

Inside the house was a grand party of more than one hundred guests. The revelers were dressed in the height of fashion - silks, powdered wigs, and makeup. Nearly invisible, porters and maids scurried about, refilling glasses and cleaning up the messes left by their employers. 

“This is the Baron’s mansion,” Marley explained. “My father’s old business partner. He invited me to stay with his family over the holidays. There he is now.”

Off the main hall was the dining room, where the older generation of the Second Estate chatted over fine wine. The Baron sat at the head of the table. His small but bright eyes darted between his guests. 

Marley and the spirit continued their tour of the mansion. “Look, Jacob. There you are.” The spirit pointed to the far corner. There, four men took part in a heated card game. The young Marley, dressed like a French noble, sat on the right. His wagers were cut jewels and small pieces of precious metal. 

“I have you now," the young Marley told his opponent in broken French. He showed his cards. While reaching for the jewels, a hand grabbed his forearm. The hand’s owner showed his cards. Marley had lost badly. The young man frowned as he watched the small fortune disappear.

“Don’t feel too bad,” the winner said, patting Marley on the shoulder. “The night is young.” He called for more champagne and food. The frown disappeared from young Marley’s face. It was as if the loss had never happened.

“You let that treasure go without another thought. Not like the man you became at all.”

“Indeed.” Marley kneeled to study himself. “I was young and foolish. That hand was worth a year’s salary for the men and women who worked for the Baron.” Marley examined the lockboxes attached to his chains. “I wonder if those jewels and gold weigh me down now?” 

“They do not.” The spirit pointed to the young Marley, who had begun conversing with one of the Baron’s daughters. “You would be able to see it. Besides, being foolish with money is no sin.”

"Spirit…" Marley trailed off as if continuing might cause tragedy. "When did my path here start? When did these chains first bind me?"

The spirit pondered Marley’s question. “It is no simple question, Jacob Marley. The path to damnation is not a straight line.” 

“Please, spirit. Show me what you can. I must know why I am here.”

“As you wish.”

Marley took the spirit's robe. The Parisian celebration disappeared and was replaced by a familiar sight - the trading floor in London.

“It is seven years later.” The spirit’s voice was somber. 

Around them, young clerks and traders were working late into the night. The only sign that it was the Christmas season was a few decorations wrapped around the wooden columns supporting the second floor. 

The front door opened with a bang. With the blowing wind and snow entered Marley. His clothes were ragged and patched.  

“You,” the young Marley pointed to the nearest clerk. “I came in earlier today.”

“Yes, Mr. Marley.” The clerk bowed his head many times as he spoke. “We were just about to finalize your corn shipment to Spain.”

“Delay it two weeks! Those rotten Spaniards will pay me triple then!”

“Of course, Mr. Marley.” The clerk turned to retrieve a stack of papers. “Please sign here.”

As the young Marley scratched his name on the parchment, the floor beneath him began to glow. Out of it rose a blazing hot padlock and a single chain. The lock rested over Marley's chest, but its heat did not cause the fabric to burn. The young Marley did not notice. In fact, he was smiling.

Marley sighed. “Was it just my greed? I know it makes no difference, but I would have lost everything if I had not delayed that corn. I might have died on the streets if not for that corn.”

The spirit nodded. “Greed was a part of it, yes. But like ripples in a pond, your actions went far beyond this trading house. Because the corn did not reach Spain in time, hundreds of people starved. Many of your chains originated from that same kind of unseen sin.”

To Marley, the spirit's words felt heavier than his chains. He could not speak, so he quietly watched his younger self conduct business.

“You have saved me,” the young Marley said to the clerk. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“It’s nothing, sir. I…”

“Nonsense! If you want to come up in this world, you need a partner. What is your name?”

“Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“That’s right,” the ghost Marley said. “I had forgotten how we met.”

The spirit nodded. The candle above its head was nearly spent. 

“I have one more memory to show you. Christmas three years after this one. I know you must be curious how Ebenezer Scrooge first earned his chains." 

“Please.”

They appeared in Scrooge & Marley, but it was not the present day. The young Marley’s clothes had improved considerably, but so had his chains lengthened. Ebenezer happily went over the ledgers in the adjoining room. 

“An excellent quarter!” Scrooge proclaimed. 

Hearing the news, the young Marley poured two glasses of sherry to the brim.

After a toast, the two men settled into their chairs. The stove burned full blast, a rare occurrence. “You know, Ebenezer,” Marley said, studying the dark liquid in his glass, “there are many ways to make one’s name in this world.” 

“Indeed, there are, Jacob.”

“I know you’re a dedicated man. You discarded those who would have held you back…”

At that moment, the floor underneath Scrooge’s chair took on a familiar glow. Scrooge’s padlock materialized, along with a single chain.

“Never regret that, Ebenezer. Not for a moment.”

The chain and padlock wound their way around Scrooge’s chair, waiting to strike. 

“Not anymore, Jacob. Not anymore.” Scrooge finished his drink.

In the blink of an eye, the chain wrapped around Scrooge’s chest, the padlock fastening tight over his heart. 

The Ghost of Christmas Past started to speak. “Now you know, Jacob. I can…”

The damned not afforded the comfort of tears, Marley’s pain exploded as a hoarse choke. He fell to his knees.

“I am sorry to have upset you.” The spirit took Marley’s hand. “It was not my intent to cause you so much suffering this night.”

“It was me,” Marley repeated over and over. “It’s my fault.” 

"A person's soul is their own responsibility.”

Marley stood and pointed to Scrooge. “But Ebenezer’s was mine! I have seen it, spirit! I planted the seed! I started him on the path to damnation! Please…please, is there no way, no means to save his soul?”

The spirit considered the vision of the past, the two men going over their hoarded wealth. Finally, it turned back to Marley.

“I am willing to help you, but I alone cannot convince your friend to change his ways. There is only one path that may lead to Scrooge’s salvation. It will take three years.”

“Does Ebenezer have that long to live?”

“I cannot see the future, but if you wish to save your friend, this is the chance you must take.”

“Without hesitation, spirit.” 

“A year from today, search out the Ghost of Christmas Present. Look for the light of his torch wherever there is merriment. He is the first of two you must persuade.” 

“I will, spirit. Thank you.” 

“Good luck, Jacob Marley.”

The spirit vanished, and Marley returned to the present day.