20 December 2010

a christmas carol


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the story







stave i
marley's ghost





"Well!" returned Scrooge, "I have but to swallow this, 
and be for the rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, 
all of my own creation.  
Humbug, I tell you!  humbug!








"I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, 
and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?"




 


Marley in his pigtail, usual waistcoat, tights and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, like his pigtail, and his coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head.








And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World, or the dull conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of repose; went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon the instant.








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.








stave ii
the first of three spirits 





It was a strange figure -- like a child: yet not so like a child as like an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a child's proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were very long and muscular; the hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength. Its legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper members, bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white, and round its waist was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. It held a branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singular contradiction of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmed with summer flowers. But the strangest thing about it was, that from the crown of its head there sprung a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was visible; and which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a great extinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm.




"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."



The house fronts looked black enough, and the windows blacker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs, and with the dirtier snow upon the ground; which last deposit had been ploughed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons; furrows that crossed and recrossed each other hundreds of times where the great streets branched off, and made intricate channels, hard to trace in the thick yellow mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest streets were choked up with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen, whose heavier particles descended in shower of sooty atoms, as if all the chimneys in Great Britain had, by one consent, caught fire, and were blazing away to their dear hearts" content. 








everything had happened so; 
that there he was, alone again, when all the other boys had gone home for the jolly holidays.






"Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!" 













stave iii
the second of the three spirits



It was clothed in one simple green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the figure, that its capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice. Its feet, observable beneath the ample folds of the garment, were also bare; and on its head it wore no other covering than a holly wreath, set here and there with shining icicles. Its dark brown curls were long and free; free as its genial face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. Girded round its middle was an antique scabbard; but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was eaten up with rust.




"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," said the Spirit. 
"Look upon me."







"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us."





"There are some upon this earth of yours," returned the Spirit, "who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us."




"Man," said the Ghost, "if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! To hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust."
They were a boy and a 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 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 abide the end."
 








 stave iv
the last of the spirits





It was shrouded in a deep black garment,
"I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?" said Scrooge.
The Spirit answered not, but pointed downward with its hand.


The cover was so carelessly adjusted that the slightest raising of it, the motion of a finger upon Scrooge's part, would have disclosed the face. He thought of it, felt how easy it would be to do, and longed to do it; but had no more power to withdraw the veil than to dismiss the spectre at his side. Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy dominion. But of the loved, revered, and honoured head, thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It is not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand was open, generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a man's. Strike, Shadow, strike. And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sow the world with life immortal!




Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name, 



EBENEZER SCROOGE.

"Am I that man who lay upon the bed?" he cried, upon his knees.

The finger pointed from the grave to him, and back again.
"No, Spirit! Oh no, no!" 







I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. 
The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. 
I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. 
Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!"




photo Abby Dickens







stave v
the end of it




"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!" Scrooge repeated, as he scrambled out of bed.  
"The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me.



He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it 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 of us!  



And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!


photograph Shiho Fukuda




what would Dickens make of our world today? I think it might be something like-I know Well- the world you live in. With all its phantasmagorical machinations, it is still inhabited by man, and he carries his nature with him from generation to generation.











& of his Carol?


 
"I am as light as a feather, 
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!  
A happy New Year to all the world!  



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14 comments:

  1. What a wonderful & evocative post! Wilde as the ghost of Christmas Present is pitch perfect casting. And I love the first image. Is it of Renishaw Hall?

    Wishing you much merriment during the Holiday Season!

    Daniel

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  2. P.G.T...I love your vision, the way you think. This is truly brilliant and I enjoyed it very, very much. Andy Warhol would indeed make a fearsome Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come! And of course, Wilde is perfect as the Ghost of Christmas Present. I'm not sure what Dickens would make of the world today...but I'm sure he would be a fan of your blog. Happy Christmas to you and yours!

    H.H.

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  3. Beautifully created in a HIP and VOGUE manner for todays' Attention Deficient populace...should be part of the PARTHENIA - SPECIAL EDITION - handmade paper cover with small type pages and b/w or handcolored image booklets...all special series booklets within a handmade box for travel library.

    I'll take 2 sets

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  4. Now This IS a wonderful Christmas present from you!

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  5. A brilliant post and illustrated perfectly. HAve a wondeful Christmas filled with the things that mean most to you!

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  6. Merry Christmas to you, and wishes for a day filled with joy and headstands!

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  7. My favorite posting of yours, which is saying a lot! Thanks for this Christmas gift, and for blogging. Merry Christmas from Mark!

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  8. VT-the photograph is from an older HG. Wilde is good casting I think, and thanks.

    HHR- Dickens would surely be writing one-I have Dickens on the mind right now.

    Bruce, David, Townhouse, Thea, merry christmas to you all. Mark too and I appreciate that so.

    LPC- it is fun to reinvent something a little, this is one I read every year since I was a grown up- though that may not seem so long -I'd say 30 years. happy Christmas

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  9. The Swan, ah ha- keep the orders coming. I like the sound of that. pgt

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  10. What an incredible and beautifully put together post. I love the images you've chosen. A Christmas Carol is my favourite Christmas story. Have a fabulous Christmas Gaye xx

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  11. This was truly a masterpiece. Can't wait to share with the boys. Had planned to read this aloud anyway this year. Now I have the visuals. xo

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  12. i am with the swan, and would like to reserve my sets

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