Showing posts with label A Christmas Carol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Christmas Carol. Show all posts

21 December 2015

A Christmas Carol-from the 2010 Archives,


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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!



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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20 December 2015

A Christmas Carol Stave IV` from the archives

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Healing the Sick
 all Children should have the benefit of healthcare



Joaquin Sorolla "Triste Herencia"



 (from Dickens)
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 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!'' 





I've many wishes of GOOD Tidings to bestow on you all-I've been beseeched by readers to snap out of the morose Dickens story postings-and show some pretty decorating pictures-Oh my dears-there is plenty of time for pretties! I've also received praise-this I take lightly, but with gratitude.

 As with ALL things Little Augury-I follow my heart and my own lead-beholden to none. I shall Endeavor to Keep it that way-Just as I keep Christmas. If  ever there was a time to reflect-to remember-what's been done by oneself-and MAN ( Man has reams to answer for) it is Christmas.
Just Ask Dickens- 

“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me." 




Charles Dickens puts the year & Christmas in perspective as no other.





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19 December 2015

A Christmas Carol Stave III~ from the archives

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Arcimboldo's "Fire"



Wonderful smells came from a Kitchen.
A rich pungent wood smoke scent filled the air- it would cling to my clothes when I left.
There were people milling about -chatting-mingling-making small talk.
There was Laughter.
There were no gowns or tuxedos-it was an informal crowd.
The place was a bit chaotic to be honest-but 'tis the season, so the hosts said.
 Someone called out for "Myrtle"-know one knew a Myrtle...but there was a "Mabel."
The holiday decorations were minimal-a wreath,some tinsel,a stuffed toy dog wearing a Santa hat-but there were boxes of stuffed animals for the taking, boxes in green paper loaded with food.
People coming and going in Good Cheer & Good Will.

That was the scene at the Christian Help Center today.

 "Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? 
What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough." Scrooge

 "At this festive season of the year, Mr Scrooge, ... it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir."
"Are there no prisons?"
"Plenty of prisons..."
"And the Union workhouses." demanded Scrooge. "Are they still in operation?"
"Both very busy, sir..."
"Those who are badly off must go there."
"Many can't go there; and many would rather die."
"If they would rather die," said Scrooge, "they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. -
CD- A Christmas Carol




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17 December 2015

A Christmas Carol Stave II~ more from the ARCHIVES.

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CHILD LABOR
Poor Children worked the streets of London to support themselves and their family


William Powell Frith~The Crossing Sweeper
"crossing sweepers" cleared dung and rubbish from the streets for few coins-In London Labour and the London Poor, Henry Mayhew described the many types of sweeper, from "the one-legged crossing sweeper of Chancery Lane" to "the aristocratic crossing sweeper".



"Let them Sweep Floors"

Delivery Boy~John George Brown





Selling Christmas Holly~William Bromley III


Mistletoe Gatherer~John Everett Millais




The Match Girl~George Whiting Flagg





A CHRISTMAS CAROL by CHARLES DICKENS here
Read more from Kingston here, Gingrich here


A Christmas tradition I established over 20 plus years ago was to read Charles Dickens A Christmas Carol each year during the holidays. I never cease to be inspired-amazed-flabbergasted by Dickens and his brilliant insights into Man. Reading was instilled at an early age by my famous storytelling -reading Mother and on Christmas Eve we all gathered a top someone's bed to hear her read another Christmas Story- the story of the Nativity-Luke II. The many lessons of that Story parallel my Dickens story.

“For it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself" CD.

Read one of them this season-

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06 December 2015

1941






"In the future days, which we seek to make secure, we look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms.


The first is freedom of speech and expression—everywhere in the world.


The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way—everywhere in the world.




The third is freedom from want—which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants—everywhere in the world.

The fourth is freedom from fear—which, translated into world terms, means a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor—anywhere in the world.


That is no vision of a distant millennium. It is a definite basis for a kind of world attainable in our own time and generation. That kind of world is the very antithesis of the so-called new order of tyranny which the dictators seek to create with the crash of a bomb."—Franklin D. Roosevelt, excerpted from the State of the Union Address to the Congress, January 6, 1941



"It is my duty to voice the suffering of men, the never-ending sufferings heaped mountain-high." ~Kathe Kollwitz , German painter, printmaker, and sculptor in the first half of the 20th century.








17 December 2014

Reading NOVEL INTERIORS

from Novel Interiors 
photograph by Ivan Terestchenko



Tis the season, actually it is upon us & in "Dickens-time"-doesn't it all seem to be squeezed into a Scrooge kind of night?
I always take a moment from whatever I might be reading to stop and open up Mr. Dickens' A Christmas Carol. After many years of this tradition, I'm happy to say Dickens never disappoints!
I've had the same experience reading Lisa Borgnes Giramonti's blog A Bloomsbury Life for about 5 years now, so it's no surprise her new book- Novel Interiors-follows along the same lines, and like Dickens, it's one we will return to often, and with pleasure.




Lisa's book, with photographs by another Little Augury favorite, Ivan Terestchenko, reveals beautiful private rooms evoking the words and atmospherics of her most beloved novels, and yes, Mr. Dickens is there.

photograph from Novel Interiors 
Ivan Terestchenko



In fact, Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol preface could have been Novel Interiors' introduction:



Lisa has found the perfect Idea to put readers in the mood to sit down and read a good book (hers or any of the many others she calls upon in Novel Interiors).  Whether it's a first time for you and Charles Dickens, or you and George Eliot, it will be at Lisa's nudging. The book will have you opening it over and over again, and no doubt looking for it again and again.
It's not a book you'll find shelved after a time or two-but will inevitably be found on the sofa (under a pillow), in the chair (under a pillow), or in the bed (under a pillow).



A SCENE FROM NOVEL INTERIORS

The perfect place to find Novel Interiors,
photograph by Ivan Terestchenko


There is little of the typical language we find in decorating books and magazines (God bless us everyone!), rather Lisa has turned to the great writers to help us find our way-and in doing so we find a new way to look  rooms, especially the rooms we inhabit. This is where Lisa excels, she can move her readers through a room with such ease, drawing out the aspects that make it truly beautiful-it may be a bit worn, or quite grand, but it always has a story to tell.


photograph by Ivan Terestchenko


Grand rooms in estates like Chatsworth are rare, but still there are great and elegant rooms where inhabitants carry on their lives in Evelyn Waugh Brideshead-like fashion. Lisa's chapter "Remembrance of Things Past" visits these formal rooms and while I find myself identifying with some of them-I'm equally drawn to rooms in the chapter "Shall I Put the Kettle On?", proving there is a unique Novel Interior of our very own waiting to be written.



 A SCENE FROM NOVEL INTERIORS

photograph by Ivan Terestchenko


What I like most about Novel Interiors is its melding of two of my very favorite subjects-Rooms and Literature. I think Lisa's book may just bring about a Renaissance (Shakespeare)- or maybe its more a Revolution (Tolstoy) in how rooms look-feel-and are written about-especially in the real world.




all photographs from Novel Interiors provided by the author & used with her permission




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