Christmas Carol

Wairarapa Times-Age, 14 December 1938, Page 19 (Supplement)

Christmas Carol

BY

CHARLES DICKENS

Here is the Story that was instrumental in saving Christmas for future generations. G. K. Chesterton

A Condensation made especially for this page by Clark Kinnaird.

SCROOGE! A grasping, covetous old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped, his pointed nose, shrivelled.his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red. his nose blue; and spoke out in his grating voice. JHe carried •his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dog- • days; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas. Once upon a time —on Christmas Eve —old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-

house. A door was open, that he might

keep his eye upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond was copying letters. “A Merry Christmas, Uncle! God save you!” sudden cried a cheerful voice—the voice of Scrooge’s nephew, Fred, come unawares upon him. ‘•Bah!” said Scrooge, •’Humbug!” “Merry Christmas! What reason have you to be merry? You’re poor enough.” “Come, then,” returned the nephew, gaily. “What reason have you to be morose? You’re rich enough.” “What else can I be,” returned the uncle, “vfhen I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! If I could work my will,” said Scrooge, indignantly, “every idiot who goes about with “Merry Christmas’ on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding. Much good it has ever done you!” “There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which, I have not profited, I dare say,” returned the nephew, “Christmas .among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round —apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything to it can be apart from that —as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calen- . dar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut- • up heart freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-creatures to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. I believe that it has 1 done me good, and will do me good; and I say, Good bless it!” : “You’re quite a powerful speaker, sir, i I wonder you don't go into Parliament.” I “Don’t be angry, uncle. Come! Dine : with us tomorrow.” “Good afternoon,” said Scrooge, s “Bah!”

His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He stopped at the outer door to exchange the greetings of the season with the clerk, Bob Crachit. "There’s another fellow,” muttered Scrooge, who overheard him: "my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife, and family, talking about a merry Christmas.l’ll retire to Bedlam.” Scrooge resumed his labours with an improved opinion of himself. That afternoon he turned away two gentlemen soliciting Christmas help for the poor. There were workhouses, what more did the poor want? He drove off a lad who attempted to sing a Christmas carol under his window.

When the hour of shutting up arriv-

ed. Scrooge rasped to the expectant clock, •■Christmas, is a poor excuse for picking a man’s pocket every twentyfilth of December! But 1 suppose you .Til’ll have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning."

Scrooge took his melancholy dinner

in his usual melancholy tavern; ano went home to bed. He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his partner, Jacob Marley. Marley was as dead as a door nail.

Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker- —without it's undergoing any intermediate pTocess of change—-not a knocker, but Marley's face.

> To say that he was not startled, would be untrue. But he turned the key sturdily, walked in, and lighted his candle. However, before he shut his door, he walked through his rooms to see that all was right. Quite satisfied, he locked himself in; put on his dressing-gown and slippers, and his night-cap; and sat down before the fire.

The fireplace was an old one, paved all round with quaint Dutch tiles, designed to illustrate the Scriptures; and yet that face of Marley, seven years dead, ■’was in every one. “Humbug!” said Scrooge, and walked across the room.

A disused bell, that hung in the room, began to swing and ring. This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed an hour. They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below, as if some person were dragging a heavy chain. “It’s humbug still!”, said Scrooge. "I won’t believe it."

His colour changed, though, when, Without a pause, it came on through the heavy door,, and passed into the room before his eyes.

Marley’s ghost! Marley in his pigtail, usual waistcoat, tights and boots. The chain he drew was clasped about his middle. It was made of cash-boxes keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body was transparent; so that Scrooge looking through his waistcoat, could see the two buttons on his coat behind. “How now!” said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. -What do you want with me?” “You don’t believe in me,” observed the Ghost. ’ . "I Jon't,” said Scrooge. “Why do you doubt your senses?” “Because,” said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There’s more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!” The spirit raised a frightful cry, and shock its chain with such a dismal and appalling noise that Scrooge fell upon his knees.

“Mercy!” he said. “Dreadful apparition. Why do you trouble me?”

“I am here tonight to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring. Ebenezer.

"You will be haunted by Three Spirits. Without their visits, you cannot hope to shun the path I tread.” The spectre floated out through the closed window.

Scrooge tried to say “Humbug!” but stopped at the first syllable. And being much in need of repose, went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon the instant. When Scrooge awoke, he found himself face to face with an unearthly visitor. It was a strange figure—like a child; yet not so like a child as like an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium.

"■Who. and what are you?” Scrooge demanded. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. Your past! Rise! and walk with' me!” As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and the years oi Scrooge's past rolled back till they were traversing the scenes of his childhood and young manhood on other Christmas Eves.

The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door. •

"I was apprenticed here!” Scrooge exclaimed. At sight of an old gentleman he cried in excitement:

Why. it's old Fezziwig.”

I Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and 1 looked up at the clock, which pointed :to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted his capacious waistcoat; laughed all over himself from his shoes to his organ of benevolence; and called out: "Yo, ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!” Scrooge’s former self came briskly in. accompanied by a fellow-'prentice. -Yo ho, my boys!” said Fezziwig. "No more work tonight. Christmas Eve! Clear away, my lads, and let’s have lots of room here!” It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire. in came a fiddler and tuned like fifty. In came Mrs Fezziwig and the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming. In came the six young followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the business. Away they all went, 20 couples at once, hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round. Fezziwig, clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out, "Well done!” and the fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter.

There were more dances and there were forfeits, and more dances, and there was cake, and there was negus, and there was a great piece of Cold Rcast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were mincepies, and plenty of beer. During the whole of this time, Scrooge had acted like a man out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self. Ho told the Ghost:

“I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now.” They treaded through more of Scrooge’s bygone years until Scrooge cried, in a broken voice: "Spirit, remove me from this place!”

He was conscious of being overcome by an irresistible drowsiness; and, further, of being in his own bedroom. He

had barely time to reel to bed, before he sank into a heavy sleep. Awakening in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, he found himself the very core and centre of a blaze of ruddy light, which streamed in from the adjoining room. He got up and went to the door. It was his own room. But it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with living green, holly, mistletoe and ivy. A mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney. Heaped upon the floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum puddings, barrels of oysters, red hot chestnuts, cherry cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth cakes and seething bowls of punch, that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state up on his couch there sat, a jolly Giant. "Come in!” exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in! and know rpe better, man!” I am the Ghost of Christmas Present!"

tie took the easily submissive Scrooge away on wings of wind to the four-room house of Bob Cratchit, Scrooge’s clerk. There was Cratchit’s wife, dressed out, but poorly, in a twice-turned gown assisted by Belinda, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons, while Master Peter plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar i Bob’s private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honour of the day) into his mouth, rejoicing to find himself ■so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable Parks. And now two smaller Cratehits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their own; and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, these young Cratchits danced about the table. And in came little Bob, the father, with at least three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe, handing down before him, and his threatbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim. he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame!

"Why. where’s our Martha?” cried Bob Cratchit, looking around. "Not coming,” said Mrs Cratchit. “Not coming,” said Bob. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!” His eldest daughter, Martha, an apprentice maid, home for the day, didn’t like to see hi mdisappionted. if it were only in joke: so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door where she had hidden, and ran into his

arms, while the two young Cratchits bore off Tiny Tim that he might hear ihc pudding singing in the copper. Bob componded some hot mixture in a jug of gin and lemons, and stirred it round and round and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter and the two übiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high procession. Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of all birds —and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs Cratchit made the gravy; Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose'before their turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace wat said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs Cratchit prepared tc plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and the long-expected gush ol stuffing issued forth, one murmur ol delight arose all. round the board. There never was such a goose! Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family. Everyone had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were steeped i> sage and onion to the eyebrows! Bul now the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs Cratchit left the room alone —too nervous to bear witness —to take the pudding up, and bring it in. Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it it should break in turning out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the backyard, and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose —a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid!

Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell

like washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook’s next door to each other, with a laundress’s next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs Cratchit entered- —flushed, but smiling proudly—with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly. Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly, too. that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs Cratchit since their marriage. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for a large family.

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the- table, and a shovel full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth; and at Bob Cratchit’s elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers and a custardcup without a handle.

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered ano crackled noisily. Then Bob proposed: "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!” ! Which all the family re-echoed. "God bless us every one!” said Tiny Tim, the last of all. "Mr Scrooge!” said Bob, raising his glass again, "I’ll give you the founder of the feast!” "The founder of the feast indeed!" cried Mrs Cratchit. "1 wish 1 had him here. I’d give him a piece of mj mind to feast upon.” "My dear,” said Bob. "Christmas day.” "It should be Christmas day, I am sure," said she, "on which one drinks I the health of such an odious, unfeeling man. You know he is Robert!” "My dear,” was Bob’s mild answer. "Christmas day.” They all drank the toast together. Much Scrooge and the Spirit saw, and far they went. Then the bell struck twelve. Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. z\s the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded coming I like a mist along the ground towards I him. This was the Ghost of Christmas I Yet to Come.

It let him overhear a knot of operators on Exchange discussing the death jf Ebenczer Scrooge, without regret, and showed him a neglected grave Scrooge could stand no more.

“Spirit!” he cried. "I am not the man I was. I will not be the man 1 rnus. have been but for this intercourse. I will, honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the vear. 1 will live in me Past, the Present, am. the Future. The Spirits ol all Three snail strive within me!"

Tne Spectre shrank into a bedpost Yes! and the bedpost was Scrooge': own. The bed was his own. the room was his own. A bright morning lav outside his window.

"I don’t know what to do!” criec Scrooge, laughing and crying in the same bieath, and making a perfect Laocoon of himself with his stockings. I am as light as a leather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as' a drunken man. A Merry Christmas to everybody!” Running to the window, he opened R. put out his head, and called downward to a boy in Sunday clothes: "What’s today?” . "Today.!” replied the bov. "Why Christmas Day.” . Ils Christmas Day!” said Scrooge to himself. "I haven't missed it.” He sent the boy hurrying to the poulterer’s for a prize turkey he recalled seeing hanging in the window, and sent it off to Bob Cratchit’s in ;. cab, after tipping the lad handsomely. And he didn’t let Bob know who sent it. He dressed himself "all in his best.' and at last got out into the streets. The people were by this time pouring I forth, .and Cerooge looked so irresistibly pleasant that three or four fellows said “Good morning, sir! A merry Christmas to you!” He went to church, and ‘ walked about the streets, and went to the I home of his nephew, to say humbly at the door, "I have come to dinner. Wil you let me in, Fred?” Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started!

Let him in! It is a mercy Fred didn't shake his arm off. He was at home in five minutes. Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, wonderful happiness! He was early at the office next morning. He wanted to be there first, and catch Bob Cratchit coming late! And he did it; Bob was . full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time.

His hat was off, before he opened the doo® his comforter, too. He was on his stool in a jiffy; driving away with his pen, as if he were trying to overtake 9 o’clock.

"What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?” growled Scrooge, in his accustomed voice.

“It’s only once a year, sir,”, pleaded Bob.

“I am not going to stand for this «ort of thing any longer. And therefore,” said Scrooge, giving Bob a dig in the waistcoat, "I am auuut to raise your salary!” • Bob 'trembled.

“A Merry Christmas, Bub!” said Scrooge. “I’ll raise your salary, and endeavour to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop!” Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more. To Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good t friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town or borough, in the good old world. And ii was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all ol us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us. Every One!