I recently read a brilliant short story by
Charles Dickens. It is dark but very
funny. I would like to share it, so I
have shortened it and made the language simpler to help non-native
speakers. If you feel deep despair,
Dickens recommends enjoying a long smoke and a moderate drink, and
trying to laugh at the ridiculousness of life.
An edited extract from, “The Baron
of Grogzwig,” by Charles Dickens:
Long ago, in a castle in Germany, there was
a rich, happy baron. He loved hunting boars
and bears in the forests around his castle, and drinking with his friends.
But as he grew older he grew a little tired
of hunting and drinking, and decided to get married. After marriage, his wife soon had a
child. She had one more each year and in
time the baron had 13 children. He had
no more time for hunting or drinking with his friends. And having to pay to maintain so many
children, he found that he was no longer rich.
He began to despair over his lost freedom, and his lack of money.
“I don’t see what is to be done,” said the
baron. “I think I’ll kill myself.” This was a bright idea.
The baron took out an old hunting knife
and, having sharpened it on his boot, he put it to his throat. But he stopped his hand when he heard a
sudden loud screaming coming from the upstairs nursery where his children were
playing.
“If I had been a bachelor,” said the
baron, sighing, “I might have done it fifty times over without being
interrupted!”
The baron called his servant and asked him
to put a flask of wine and a large pipe of tobacco in a quiet little room in
the castle. In half an hour the servant
had done this.
The baron strode to the room. The bottle and pipe were ready, in front of a
warm fire. On the whole, the place
looked very comfortable.
The baron locked the door. “I’ll smoke a last pipe,” he said, “And then
I’ll be off.”
So, putting the knife on the table, and
drinking a good measure of wine, the baron threw himself back in his chair,
stretched his legs out before the fire, and puffed away.
He thought about a great many things –
about his present troubles, and past days as a bachelor, and his friends who
had long since disappeared. His mind was
running upon bears and boars when, while draining his glass, he raised
his eyes and saw with astonishment that he was not alone.
On the opposite side of the fire there sat
a hideous, wrinkled figure, with deeply sunken eyes and a face like
death. He wore the clothes that men wear
to the grave. He took no notice of the
baron, but was intently eyeing the fire.
“Hello!” said the baron, stamping his foot
to attract his attention.
“Hello,” replied the stranger, moving his
eyes towards the baron, but not his face.
“What now?”
“What now?” replied the baron, not
frightened by his strange, dull voice and eyes.
“I shall ask that question. How
did you get in here?”
“Through the door,” replied the figure.”
“What are you?” said the baron.
“A man,” replied the figure.
“I don’t believe it!” said the baron.
“Disbelieve it then,” said the figure.
“I will,” returned the baron.
The figure looked at the bold baron for
some time, and then said, familiarly, “There’s no fooling you, I
see. I’m not a man.”
“What are you then?” asked the baron.
“A genius,” replied the figure.
“You don’t look much like one,” returned
the baron, scornfully.
“I am the genius of despair and suicide,”
said the creature. “Now you know
me!” With these words the creature
turned and faced the baron, as if preparing for a talk. “Now,” said the figure, glancing at the
hunting knife, “Are you ready for me?”
“Not quite,” returned the baron. “I must finish this pipe first.”
“Hurry up then,” said the figure.
“You seem in a hurry!” said the baron.
“Why yes, I am,” answered the figure. “There are many people waiting for me in
England and France just now, and my time is a good deal taken up.”
“Do you drink?” said the baron, touching
the wine bottle with his pipe.
“Nine times out of ten and then, very
hard,” replied the figure.
“Never in moderation?” asked the baron.
“Never,” replied the figure with a
shudder. “That makes people cheerful.” The figure looked at the baron. “Be as quick as you can, will you? There’s a man with too much money and free
time who wants me now.”
“He’s going to kill himself because he has
too much money?” exclaimed the baron, very amused. “Ha ha!
That’s a good one!” This was the
first time the baron had laughed for a long time.
And the figure vanished.
Vocabulary:
moderate – a reasonable amount; not too
much and not too little
a baron – a kind of noble; a Lord
a boar - a kind of wild pig
a bachelor – a single, unmarried man
to drain one’s glass – to drink all of the
liquid in one’s glass
hideous – horrible; terrible-looking
to fool someone – to successfully lie to
someone; to make someone believe something incorrect
to vanish – to disappear
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