(...) El conte és una al·legoria de la condició humana. Dickens hi fa palesa la seva sensibilitat social, la seva compassió pels febles i el seu amor a la humanitat, tant com el seu odi per les condicions de desigualtat i injustícia que regnaven a la societat industrial de la seva època. Tot això és simbolitzat en una escena incomparable: l’esperit dels temps presents, abans d’acomiadar-se, li mostra dues criatures que fins aleshores han estat amagades sota la seva capa. Es tracta de dos espectres, que representen un nen i una nena famèlics, vestits de parracs i amb una mirada plena d’odi. Els infants estan prostrats i desvalguts en la seva misèria. En ells s’hi contempla tota la degradació, la maldat i el dolor de la humanitat. Scrooge pregunta a l’esperit de Nadal: «Són teves, aquestes criatures?», i aquest li respon: «No, de fet són fills dels homes; el nen és la Ignorància i la nena és la Necessitat. Si no hi feu res, s’esdevindrà allò que duen escrit al front com una condemna: la perdició de la humanitat.»
La veu de l’esperit ressona a les nostres orelles –els Scrooges contemporanis– des de l’ultratomba de la nostra societat injusta. Tindrem la mateixa fermesa per acabar amb les iniquitats i abusos que tingué Dickens per a denunciar-les?
Prenguem, per un cop, les paraules d’un escriptor al peu de la lletra. Aquests dies, en què la majoria omplim els nostres estómacs a cor què vols, pensem també en els que passen gana.
* * *
"Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,'' said Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit's robe, "but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw!''
"It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it,'' was the Spirit's sorrowful reply. "Look here.''
From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.
"Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!'' exclaimed the Ghost.
They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.
Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.
"Spirit! are they yours?'' Scrooge could say no more.
"They are Man's,'' said the Spirit, looking down upon them. "And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow (front) I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!'' cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. "Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse! And bide the end!''
