Blogsy Babbles

     Holly, mistletoe, and berries, ivy, turkey, geese, game, poultry, brawn, meat, pigs, sausages,, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and punch, all vanished instantly.  So did the room, the fire, the ruddy glow, the hour of night, and they stood in the city streets on Christmas morning, where (for the weather was severe), the people made a rough, but brisk and not unpleasant kind of music, in scraping the snow from the pavement in front of their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses; whence it was mad delight to the boys to see it come plumping down into the road below, and splitting into artificial little snowstorms.

     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 bee ploughed up n deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons; furrows that crossed and re-crossed 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, where heavier particles descended in a 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.  There was nothing very cheerful in the climate or the town, and yet was there an air of cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and brightest summer sun might have endeavoured to diffuse in vain.

     For the people who were shovelling away on the housetops were jovial and full of glee; calling out to one another from the parapets, and now and then exchanging a facetious snowball==better-natured missile far than many a wordy jest–laughing heartily if it went right, and not less heartily if it went wrong.  The poulterers’ shops were still half open, and the fruiterers’ were radiant in their glory.  There were great round, pot=bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence.  There were ruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed Spanish Onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish friars, and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by; and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe.  There were pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made in the shopkeepers’ benevolence to dangle from conspicuous hooks, that people’s mouths might water gratis as they passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered leaves; there were Norfolk Biffins, squat and swarthy setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner.  The very gold and silver fish, set forth among these choice fruits in a bowl, though members of a dull and stagnant-blooded race, appeared to know that there was something going on; and, to a fish, were gasping round and round their little world in slow and passionless excitement.

   The Grocers’!  Ah, the Grocers’! nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters down, or one; but through these gaps such glimpses!  It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, pr even that the raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious.  Nor was it that the figs were  moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything was so good to eat and in its Christmas dress: but the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise pf the day that they tumbled up against each other at the door, clashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes in the best humour possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind them might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for Christmas daws to peck at if they chose.

     But soon the steeples called good people all, the church and chapel, and away they came, flocking through the streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people, carrying their dinners to the bakers’ shops.  The signs of these poor revellers appeared to interest the Spirit very much, for he stood with Scrooge beside him in a baker’s doorway. And, taking off their covers as the bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch.  And it was a very uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice when there were agry words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled each other, he shed a few drops of water on them from it, and their good humour was restored directly.  For they said, it was a shame to quarrel upon Christmas Day.  And so it was!  God love it, so it was!

     In time the bells ceased, and the bakers’ were shut up; and yet there was a genial shadowing forth pf all these dinners and the progress of their coking, in the thawed blotch of wet above each baker’s oven; where the pavement smoked as if the stones were cooking, too.

     “Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your torch?” asked Scrooge.

     “There is.  My own.”

     “Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?” asked Scrooge.

     “To any kindly given.  To a poor one most.”

     “Why to a poor one most?” asked Scrooge.

     “Because it needs it most.”

     Dickens sets out a detailed picture of early Christmas day for us.  We can use this material to bring on another opulent display of props, set the scene, and give Scrooge another hint about Christmas, OR scoot right past it to the Cratchit Christmas dinner.  Voting is split pretty evenly among the various versions.

     Hicks goes straight to Bob’s house.

     Sim I flies with the Ghost, who shows Scrooge “a place where miners dwell”.  The family group is singing “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing”.  After this they spot Bob Cratchit.

     March materializes inside the Cratchit house.  Magoo materializes just outside.  Haddrick flies over London to land there.  Finney skips all of this completely.  Rathbone and the Spirit dematerialize as before and rematerialize in the Cratchits’.

     Matthau and the Spirit fly over the city.  The Ghost cries, “Look!  The City of London at Christmas!”  THEN they fly on to Bob’s place.

     Using a streetlight as a flashlight and lifting roofs to peer into various houses, the Spirit takes McDuck straight to Bob Cratchit’s.

     Curry and the Spirit fly to daylight.  The Ghost, joyous, cries “Happy me!  Happy everyone!”  “Happy Humbug!” snorts Scrooge.  The ghost asks if he is backsliding already.  He replies, “Why should I be accused of being selfish when Christmas is such a selfish holiday?”    Outraged, the Spirit lets him fall.  Catching him in the nick of time, she asks if THAT was selfish.  He says it was; she saved him only so she could annoy hi further.  “Let’s see if I can convince you otherwise,” she says.

     Versions which make more of the passage, if only a little, include Sim II, who finds himself standing with the Spirit in a snowy, thickly-populated, rather dark town square.  The narrator explains that the Spirit dropped a few drops of good cheer from his torch.  We spot Bob Cratchit galloping through the snow with Tim on his shoulder.

     Bells ring; Scott walks with the Spirit in a daylit street.  “What day is it now?” Scrooge demands.  “Don’t you know?  Christmas morning.”  They pass a fish stall and a butcher shop.  “There’s a lot of buying, isn’t there?” says Scrooge, rubbing his hands together.  “Oh, Ebenezer, is that all you can see?  Follow me and I’ll show you to what good use these things can be put.”  “Is there some peculiar power that emanates from your torch?”  “Oh, yes.  There is.”  Nodding, the Spirit moves on and declines to explain further.

     Caine and the Spirit materialize in a dark square, but daylight and a crowd appear a moment after.  It is time for the jolliest number of the production, “It Feels Like Christmas”, a musical evocation of what Christmas truly means (at least in this version.)  The pair move through a cheerful bustle; Scrooge is detached and dubious.  Making himself tiny, the Spirit moves in to bless a family of mice; Scrooge, peering into the mousehole, suddenly smiles.  As holiday excitement expands through the crowd, Scrooge begins to look as if he regrets not being a part of it.  The Ghost rejoins him, leading him into the dance.  At the end, he is exhilarated. “Spirit, I had no idea!  I wish to see friends, kin!  Show me family!”  (We will be transported to Fred’s Christmas party now, before we go to the Cratchits’.)

     When Stewart reaches for the Spirit’s robe, we seem to see apples pouring from under it.  The camera pulls back to show us the fruiterer in the square is refilling a bin.  The Ghost casts a significant glance at Scrooge and sprinkles glitte4ing water from the torch as they move along.  Scrooge asks why.  “Is there a blessing in it?”  “There is.  My own.”  They converse  as described; when Scrooge asks “Why to a poor one most?” the Spirit answers in a tone that suggests Scrooge should have known this answer already.

      It is Owen’s version which makes the most of this section.  A pudd of smoke surrounds Scrooge and then we see people moving in and out of the baker’s.  Scrooge asks what’s going on; the Spirit explains that the poor find it cheaper to take their dinners to the baker to be cooked.  As we watch, two men bump into each other and start to snarl.  Light blinks from the horn the Spirit carries, and the two men wonder aloud why they’re fighting.  Scrooge asks what happened and is told that what is sprinkled from the horn is a spirit five times distilled: the Spirit of Christmas cheer, of love, of all that’s good, of all that makes this time of year different from any other time.  The explanation goes on, but Scrooge has noticed two other men arguing.  He points them out to the Spirit, who again flashes his torch and makes peace.  Turning to Scrooge, he says “We stopped that.”  Scrooge beams.  “Yes, we did, didn’t we?”  A bell chimes.  “That church,” says the Ghost, “We have business there.”  In the congregation, we find Fred and his fiancée sharing a hymnal.  The Spirit leans over to confide in Scrooge, “I don’t believe for a moment that they love one another.”  Scrooge disputes this.  The Ghost goes on to say it is fortunate that the two don’t have the wherewithal to marry; their love will soon fade.  Scrooge takes exception to that as well.  “Their love will grow.  They SHOULD be married.”  Farther down the pew, we find Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim singing “O Come, All Ye Faithful.”  Looking down at Tim, Bob’s voice chokes off.  A clasp of Tim’s hand hives him courage and volume again.  When church lets out, , Fred and fiancée chat with Bob and Tim.  As the Cratchits move on, Fred observes that the ice is perfect for sliding.  His fiancée says they really shouldn’t: not in front of a church.  She would seem to be borne out in this when the boys who ARE sliding are chased away by a clergyman.  But when the boys are gone, that worthy has a quick slide himself.  Convinced now, the young lady joins Fred in a glide along the ice.  Of course they fall gleefully into the snow, where Fred kisses her.  Our attention then shifts to Bob and Tim walking home.

      The moment Scrooge’s hand was on the lock, a strange voice called hi by his name, and bade him enter.  He obeyed.

     It was his own room.  There was no doubt about that./  But it had undergone a surprising transformation.  The walls and ceiling were so hung with living green, that it looked a perfect grove, from every part of which, bright gleaming berries glistened.  The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light, aa if so many little mirrors had been scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as that that dull petrification of a hearth had never known in Scrooge’s time, or Marley’s, or for many and many a winter season gone.  Heaped on the floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, gees, 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 upon this ouch, there sat a jolly Giant, glorious to see; who bore a glowing torch, in shape not unlike plenty’s horn, and held it up, high up, to shed its light on Scrooge, as he came peeping round the door.

     “Come in!” exclaimed the Ghost.  “Come in!  and know me better, man!”

     Scrooge entered timidly, and hung his head before the Spirit.  He was not the dogged Scrooge he had been; and though the Spirit’s eyes were clear and kind, he did not like to meet them.

     “I am the Ghost of Christmas Present,” said the Spirit.  “Look upon me!”

     Scrooge reverently did so.  It was clothed in one simple deep 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.

     “You have never seen the like of me before!” exclaimed the Ghost.

     “Never,” Scrooge made answer to it.

      “Have never walked forth with the younger members of my family; meaning (for I am very young) my elder brothers born in these later years?” pursued the Phantom.

     “I don’t think I have,” said Scrooge.  “I am afraid I have not.  Have you many brothers, Spirit?”

     “More than eighteen hundred,” said the Ghost.

      “A tremendous family to provide for!” muttered Scrooge.

     The Ghost of Christmas present rose.

     “Spirit,” said Scrooge submissively, “Conduct me where you will.  I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learned a lesson which is working now.  To-night, if you have ought to teach me, let me profit by it.”

     “Touch my robe!”

     Scrooge did as he was told, and held it fast.

     Look at all the room Dickens gave moviemakers to play in!  Scrooge’s attitude to the Ghost, the Ghost’s opinion of him, and how much they have to say to each other all vary.  There are also a few technical matters to employ in making a giant appear in a live-action film.  Camera angles can do the trick, or a miniature room to make the actor playing the Ghost stoop a bit so as to clear the ceiling; Caine has a gigantic head which peers through the door at him.  Since Dickens makes it clear this Spirit can change size at will, most versions bring him down to a manageable height after the first impact.

     Other things are constant from Scrooge to Scrooge: that parlor which becomes a larder, the massive Ghost based generally on Leech’s illustration, and, especially, that line “Come in!  and know me better, man!”

      Following that line, Hicks finds himself facing a gross goblin who seems to have escaped from some historical movie about Nero or henry VIII.  (He’s one of a line of Christmases Present who actually eat the props.)  They exchange the dialogue much as written; Scrooge is softening.  “Touch my robe,” orders the Ghost. “And you shall see how your clerk, with his paltry fifteen shillings a week, which you so grudgingly dole out to him, keeps Christmas!  Touch my robe!”  Scrooge raises his hand high, hesitates for just a moment, and then lets it drop on the Spirit’s garment.

     “Come here and know me better, Scrooge!” calls Owen’s wide-eyed, robust, but not so very giant Spirit.  This Ghost has had “a huge number” of brothers, “Some eighteen hundred!”  Owen asks “What’re we going to do?”  “Walk into the world this Christmas night so that you can hear and see and feel Christmas in the world this night.”  “Did you say walk or fly?”  “Touch my robe.”

     The Ghost has to summon Sim I several times; Scrooge keeps calling “I’m coming.”  When he does finally go into the next room, and see what is waiting for him, he turns away, shaking his head.  The giant Ghost declares, “You have never seen the like of me before!” to which Scrooge makes the immortal reply, “No.  And I wish the pleasure had been indefinitely postponed.”  “So!  Is your heart still unmoved towards us, then?”  Scrooge begins the refrain that he will reprise several times.  “I am too old!  I am beyond hope!  Go and redeem some young, more promising creature and leave me to keep Christmas in my own way.”  He is given a lecture on how Christmas spirits live not just one day any more than the Christ Child sees to only one day.  “You have chosen not to seek Him in your heart; therefore you shall come with me and seek him in the hearts of men of good will.  Come.  Touch my robe!”  The Ghost chuckles as Scrooge shuffles forward.

     March finds a Ghost who looks a great deal like his nephew Fred, sitting in a room rather heavier on decorations than food.  He wears no beard, and is not a giant; his costume is about half jester and half lieutenant, bells replacing brass.  He is suitably hearty though, and sings the most rollicking song in the production, “A Very Merry Christmas”.  Scrooge walks around and around him, once reaching timidly in to ring some of the bells.  During this number, the Ghost shows off a few tricks, finding a sprig of mistletoe under Scrooge’s nightcap, drawing a long garland from inside Scrooge’s dressing gown, and so on.  Scrooge’s glee and wonder grow with each trick.  His stuffed raven flies out the window.  Under duress at first, but then with good will, Scrooge finds himself dancing with the Ghost.  Not that he’s perfectly convinced: his face goes through an alarming series of conflicting expressions; at one point he tries to hide in the bed again.  Finally, he asks what we’ve all been wondering, “Nephew?  Fred?”  “Nephew?” cries the Ghost.  “I am the Spirit of Christmas Present.  Pluck up your courage.  Only good will happen to you.”  The Ghost picks up, and raises his nose at, the bowl of gruel as Scrooge asks “Christmas Present?”  “Yes.  You don’t give many of them, do you?”  Scrooge is abashed: “Not of late years,” he admits.  “I do,” the Spirit replies, “It’s my business.  None of this will be wasted, you may be sure.”  “How did you come here?”  “I came on my regular round.”  “Spirit, if you have anything to teach me, I’m ready to learn.”  The Ghost sings more of his song while spreading a tablecloth on Scrooge’s table.  He sets the gruel in the center of this, gestures, and we are looking at a plum pudding on the table of the Cratchit household.

     As Rathbone peers out the window, a voice calls “Come here!  Come here and know me better, man!”  The cold fireplace Scrooge peeked into a second ago is now ablaze, and there is food all over the place.  In the corner sits a man with a Sants suit and the shortest beard of any Christmas present except for Hicks (well, and Curry.)  Scrooge, removing that absurd nightcap at last, admits he has never seen the like of this Ghost before.  “You could have known many of my older brothers, if you’d wanted.”  The Spirit tosses the mug he is holding to one side, and rises: he is not quite a giant, but he is taller than Scrooge (now that the cap is gone.)  Scrooge asks the Ghost to conduct him where he will; if the Spirit has ought to teach him, he is ready to elarn.  “Good,” says the Ghost, a bit grim.  “Toich my cloak.”

     Magoo gets a rather rotund white-bearded man who observes that Scrooge has never seen the like of him before.  “I’m not sure I see the like of you now,” says the squinting Scrooge.  “So I’ve heard; you’re the one who’s too tight with a penny to buy himself a pair of spectacles.”  The Ghost orders Scrooge to come in and know him better, man.  Scrooge replies by asking “Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?”  (He has to use that line here, remember, because in this version Christmas present is the first of the Spirits.)  “Touch my robe,” the Ghost replies.

     Haddrick finds a white-bearded Spirit very much like the last one; this Ghost does seem a wee bit younger, and carries a lantern instead of a crozier.  He is not a giant, and stands in a room now featuring a Christmas tree and presents.  “Come in!  and know me better, man!  I am the Ghost of Christmas Present!  Lok upon me well!”  “Spirit, take me where you will.  I have already been forth this night—or last night—and I am anxious to end this ordeal.”  “Touch my robe.”  They rise through the ceiling.

     Sim II’s Ghost is definitely based on the Leech illustration, even to the hairy chest.  “Come in!  and know me better, man!  You have never seen the like of me before!”  Scrooge merely shakes his head.  His only line here is to request the Ghost to “Take me where you will.  If you have ought to teach me, let me profit by it.”  The Ghost looks a wee bit irritated, but rises and commands him to touch the robe.  (You will observe that this Ghost actually wears a scabbard, as required by the text, but it looks like plain leather.)

     Finney unlocks the door to the next room, but, hearing his name, runs back to bed.  When the Ghost threatens to come fetch him, he scuttles to the door again.  The light there is too bright for him; when the Ghost lowers it, he finds a vast, glittering array of food and a bushily-bearded, fully furred giant.  “Come over here, you weird little man!  I am the Ghost of Christmas Present!  Now look upon me!  You have never seen the like of me before!”  “Never.”  “Yet how many of my brothers have you rejected in your miserable lifetime!”  “I’ve never met any of your brothers, sir.”  “You have never looked for them.”  “How many of them are there?”  “What year is this?”  “1860.”  “Then I have 1859 brothers.  Every year at this time, one of us visits your puny little planet to spread happiness and to remove as many as we can of the causes of human misery.  That is why I have come to see you, Ebenezer Scrooge.”  Scrooge is levitated to allow the Spirit a closer look.  “You’re a funny-looking little creature.  I must admit, I found it hard to believe you’d be as horrible as my brothers said you’d be, but now I come to look at you, I see they were understating the truth.”  Scrooge protests that he is a man of high principles and generous spirit.  The Ghost forces a large goblet on him and orders him to drink.  Scrooge is reluctant, but finds the beverage to his liking; he says he’s never tasted anything like it before.  “Of course you haven’t.”  “What is it?”  “The milk of human kindness.”  The Spirit begins a poem which becomes a song; he rather dislikes humans, especially Ebenezer Scrooge, but the song is “I Like Life.”  Scrooge explains that he hates life because life hates him.  “You’re an even bigger fool than I took you for.”  The Ghost teaches Scrooge the song; Scrooge  reacts to it as he did the contents of the goblet; reluctant at first, he comes to enjoy it.  He even enjoys being flown across the room by the Ghost.  Eventually the pair of them burst through the glass of the window and sail into the night sky.

     Matthau cries, “My parlor!  What’s happened to my parlor?”  Well, it’s packed with food; a fire blazes in the fireplace.  “I am the Ghost of Christmas Present.  Come in and know me Better, for you have never known the likes of me before!”  “Who are you?”  “The Christmas Spirit.  Come!”  “No!”  Toys under a Christmas tree sing “Listen to the Song of the Christmas Spirit” as a terrified Scrooge is drawn in and shrunk to their size.  He is forced to dance with them, and gradually seems to be enjoying himself.  The Christmas Spirit itself is a tall man with white hair and a white beard.  A wreath rests on his head.  He carries the cornucopia torch, and an empty (but intact) scabbard hangs at his waist.  Finally, catching up Scrooge and B.A.H. Humbug, he hurls them through the window.  “I shall fall!”  “Touch my robe and be lifted!”  They fly.

     Willie the Giant plays McDuck’s Christmas Present, so he is a proper giant, four stories tall, calling “Fee Fi Fo Fum” as he looks around for Scrooge.  Scrooge thinks he’s going to be devoured, but the Ghost, showing him to room heaped with food, tells him there are better things to eat than a distasteful little miser.  “Where did this all come from?”  ””From the heart, Scrooge!  It is the food of generosity, which you have long denied your fellow man.”  “Nobody has ever shown ME generosity.”  “You’ve never given them reason to.  And yet there are still some who find enough warmth in their hearts even for the likes of you.”  “No acquaintance of mine, I assure you.”  “You’ll see.”  The Ghost pushes the roof off the house and starts away.  (Shall we note at this point that though in this version, Scrooge carries Christmas Past with him, he is carried away by Christmas Present?  Or are we overthinking things?)

     Scott is told to “Come in!”  Scrooge is grim in reply: “I intend to,.”  He blinks at the light until it is dimmed.  “Come in, and know me better, man!  You’ve never seen the likes of me before, eh?”  “That’s quite true,” says Scrooge, his expression one of wonder and confusion, “I have not.”  The Ghost is a robust bearded man who likes to laugh.  “You never walked forth with any of the younger members of my family.”  “No, not that I remember.”  “Nor any of my elder brothers, born these late years?”  “No, I’m afraid not, no.  Do you have many brothers, Spirit?”  “Over eighteen hundred.”  “A tremendous family to provide for!”  This remark, which IS a bit mercenary if you think about it, seems to offend the Ghost.  “Take hold of my robe, Ebenezer Scrooge!”

     The roliest poliest softest giant in all creation calls to Caine, heartily identifying himself twice, saying “Come in and know me better man!” no fewer than three times.  Scrooge notes, “You’re a little absent-minded, Spirit.”  “No, I’m a LARGE absent-minded Spirit!”  He and Scrooge chuckle heartily about this.  The Ghost goes on to explain that his mind is filled with the here and now, “And the now is Christmas!”  “I don’t believe I’ve met anyone like you before.”  The Ghost is surprised.  “Really?  Over 1800 of my brothers have gone before me.”  Scrooge ventures a little joke about grocery bills; they laugh inordinately over it, and the Giant shrinks a little toward Scrooge’s size.  “Have you ever noticed how everything seems wonderful at Christmas?”  Scrooge replies, with some regret, “In all honesty, Spirit: no.  Perhaps I’ve never understood about Christmas.”  “Before the day is done, you WILL understand.”  He marches over to throw open the window, tossing the eavesdropping Dickens and Rizzo into the snow once more.

     When Curry is called, he closes his bed curtains.  Light forces them back.  “Come out, come out, and know me better!”  The light flies back to the Ghost, a Black woman in a green gown.  “No!  Gi away!”  Debit growls at the Spirit, but she throws him a leg of lamb.  “I bet you’ve never had a Guest like me before.”  Scrooge is still hiding; she takes a deep breath and blows the covers away.  They converse as in the text, though when she mentions the other members of her family, Scrooge asks “Do you have many sisters?”  “Nearly nineteen hundred.  Come!  Touch my robe!”  “After that last Spirit, I’d rather not.”  “This is not a multiple choice, Mr. Grumpy-face.”  He says he can’t leave his dog; she points out that Debit is obviously happy with that bone.  As she snatches him up and sails out into the night, he grumbles, “I’ve got to get a lock for that window.”

     Stewart finds a dark-haired giant, not quite bare-chested, not so brightly lit; this Ghost relies on flickering firelight.  “Come in and know me better, man!  Have you never seen anything like this before?”  “Not in this house.”  The Ghost laughs; they discuss the younger members of the Ghost’s family.  Scrooge’s line about providing for so large a family seems to offend this Ghost as well.  He is stern as he rises.  Stewart asks him to go ahead with whatever he has in mind.  “I’d like to get this over and done with.”  He moves like a condemned man on the gallows as he goes to touch the robe.

FUSS FUSS FUSS #12:  How Do You Like Him Now?

     Ghosts of Christmas Present regard Scrooge with a mixture of amusement and contempt.  Lined up in order, from Most Amused to Most Annoyed, one must begin with Caine’s Christmas Present, a large-hearted soul who honestly believes everyone considers Christmas a time to be jolly and generous, and work to the other end in this order

     Caine

     Curry

      March

      Sim I

     Owen

     Sim II

Scott

     Magoo

     Stewart

     Matthau: this Spirit is sort of a midpoint, neither very amused nor contemptuous, but more of warm, happy soul who will not take “no” for an answer

     Haddrick

     McDuck

     Rathbone

     Hicks

     Finney

     Finney’s Ghost doesn’t seem to have any affection for humans or Earth (so presumably they have Christmas other places, too) and particularly dislikes Scrooge, calling him weird, horrible, unpleasant, and funny-looking.

     For their part, most Scrooges greet this Ghost with terror, though a few, like the textual Scrooge, are merely resigned to their fate.  Sim I seems merely dismayed, while Scott is grimly angry.  Caine, of course, seems to be as pleased by the encounter as the Ghost

Stace Three: The Second of the Three Spirits

     Waking in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, and sitting up in bed to get his thoughts together, Scrooge had no occasion to be told that the bell was again upon the stroke of One.  He felt that he was restored to consciousness in the right nick of time, for the especial purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger despatched to him through Jacob Marley’s intervention.  But, finding that he turned uncomfortably cold when he began to wonder which of his curtains this new spectre would draw back, he put them every one wide with his own hands; and lying down again, established a sharp lookout all round the bed.  For he wished to challenge the Spirit on the moment of its appearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise and made nervous.

     Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves on being acquainted with a move or two, and being equally equal to the time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity for adventure by observing  that they are good for anything from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter; between which opposite extremes, no doubt, there lies a tolerably wide and comprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing for Scrooge quite so hardily as this, I don’t mind calling on you to believe that he was ready for a good broad field of strange appearances, and that nothing between a baby and a rhinoceros would have astonished him very much.

     Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by any means prepared for nothing, and , consequently, when the Bell struck One, and no shape appeared, he was taken with a violent fit of trembling.  Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, yet nothing came.  All this time, he lay upon his bed, the very core and centre of a blaze of ruddy light, which streamed upon it when the clock proclaimed the hour; and which being only light, was more alarming than a dozen ghosts, as he was powerless to make out what it meant, or would be at; and was sometimes apprehensive that he might be at that very moment an interesting case of spontaneous combustion, without having the consolation of knowing it.  At last, however, he began to think—as you or I might have thought at first; for it is always the person who is not in the predicament to know what ought to be done in it, and would unquestionably have done it, too—at last, I say, he began to think that the source and secret of this ghostly light might be in the adjoining room: from whence, on further tracing it, it seemed to shine.  The idea taking full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled in his slippers to the door.

     Scrooge is not especially eager to get out of bed again, but he doesn’t want to be taken by surprise, either.  Obviously, this fifteen minute interval has to be cut back for the flicks, but most Scrooges do have a little time to build up suspense, and even for Scrooge to say “Nothing” before trying to go back to bed.  At this point, Dickens’s Scrooge believes implicitly in these Spirits; at least two Screen Scrooges are still clinging to a hope that everything up to tis point has been a dream.

     Hicks wakes up and declares, “It’s one o’clock.  I know it is.”  He pulls the covers over his head, but can’t help sliding them down for a peek.  Light startles him: a wavering, flickering light that frightens him a great deal.  He stumbles out of bed.

     Owen is snoring as a clock strikes two; he wakes with a start.  After a quick look around, he checks his watch.  He sits up, and a startling light makes its appearance.

     Sim I is still saying “No” from the last scene when a clock strikes.  He sits up, to be greeted by a loud “bong” and a bright light.  Just as he realizes the light is coming from the next room, a sinister laugh joins it.  He carefully pulls the covers up again, apparently hoping the Ghost won’t know he’s there.

     March looks vaguely piratical in that cap and unbuttoned collar.  The night watch passes outside, calling “Two o’clock and all’s well.”  Light and music make Scrooge sit up in alarm.

     In Rathbone, we return to the narrator (Frederic March) and the book; he consults a page to tell us Scrooge was ready for anything from a baby to a rhinoceros.  Scrooge, uneasy, shuffles around his room, peeking up the chimney and peering out the window.

     Magoo is wakened by his clock striking one, and grumbles about it until summoned to the next room.

     In Sim II, the light is already strong and the curtains of the bed drawn.  The snoring Scrooge opens his eyes as the clock strikes.  He sits up.

     Haddrick examines the chair where the Ghost of Christmas Past sat.  He decides everything he saw was a dream.  There is nothing there, after all, especially g….  A light terrifies him; he dives behind the chair.

     Finney lights a candle, still weeping a bit from that last vision.  “Stupid old fool: getting yourself all upset over nothing.”  Walking around the room, he checks the clock and discovers the time has come for the second visit.  He braces himself and shouts, “I’m ready for you, whatever you are!”  Nothing happens.  He is headed for bed when he notices a shifting light, apparently bright enough to shine through a closed wooden door.

     In Matthau, the clock strikes and something laughs.  The door to the next room opens, letting a golden glow fill the doorway.

     McDuck, still demanding, “Why was I so foolish?”, hears the clock strike two.  A bright light appears.

     In Scott, the clock outdoors strikes two.  Scrooge lies in his bed, waking when his watch in its stand reaffirms the hour.  “Two.  Well, Jacob Marley.  Where is this Spirit of whom you spoke so glibly?  You did say on the stroke of two, didn’t you, Jacob?  Mistaken in death as you were in life, old partner.”  He cheerfully makes himself comfortable against the pillow.  Then a voice calls his name.

     Caine rolls back in bed.  A nearby clock strikes two, echoed by the mechanical clock.  Scrooge sits up; Dickens tell us he is waiting.  “Nothing,” he announces, just before light and music pour through an open door.

     In Curry, the clock on the mantel strikes two.  Scrooge is snoring.  Debit, more restless in his sleep, kicks in some bad dream.  He tears at the blankets, pulling them enough to leave Scrooge’s feet bare.  Scrooge is apparently used to this; he merely mutters about it and pulls his knees up to take shelter of what he has left of cover.  A bright light manifests itself.  Debit barks at it and Scrooge sits up, shouting, perhaps unfortunately, “What in blazes?”

     Stewart wakes in the middle of a prodigious snore.  He snatches his bedclothes and curtains aside, obviously looking for a ghost.  Seeing light under the door, he gets up and moves cautiously toward it.