Blogsy Babbles

     Scrooge’s former self grew larger at the words, and the room became a little darker and more dirty.  The panels shrunk, the windows cracked; fragments of plaster fell out of the ceiling, and the naked laths were shown instead; but how this was all brought about, Scrooge knew no more than you do.  He only knew that it was quite correct; that everything had happened so; that there he was, alone again, when all the other boys had gone home for the jolly holidays.

     He was not reading now, but walking up and down despairingly.  Scrooge looked at the Ghost; and with a mournful shaking of the head, glanced anxiously towards the door.

     It opened; and a little girl, much younger than the boy, came darting in, ad putting her arms around his neck, and often kissing him, addressed him as her “Der, dear brother.”

     “I have come to take you home, dear brother!” said the child, clapping her tiny hands and bending down to laugh, “To bring you home, hoe, home!”

     “Home, little fan?” retorted the boy.

     “Yes!” said the girl, brimful of glee.  “Home, for good and all.  Home, for ever and ever.  Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that home’s like Heaven!  He spoke so gently to me on dear night when I was going to bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might come home; and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring you.  And you’re to be a man!” said the child, opening her eyes, “and are never to come back here; but first, we’re to be together all the Christmas long, and have the merriest time in the world.”

     “You are quite a woman, little Fan!” exclaimed the boy.

     She clapped her hands together and laughed, and tried to touch his head’ but being so little, laughed again, and stood on tiptoe to embrace him.  Then she began to drag him, in her childish eagerness, towards the door, and he, nothing loth to go, accompanied her.

     A terrible voice in the hall cried, “Bring down Master Scrooge’s box, there!” and in the hall appeared the schoolmaster himself, who glared on Master Scrooge with a ferocious condescension, and threw jo, into a dreadful state of mind by shaking hands with him.  He then conveyed him and his sister into the verist old well of a shivering  best-parlour that ever was seen, where the maps upon the wall, and the celestial and terrestrial globes in the windows were waxy with cold.  Here he produced a decanter of curiously light wine, and a block of curiously heavy cake, and administered instalments of these dainties to the young couple; at the same time, sending out a meagre servant to offer a glass of “something” to the postboy, who answered that he thanked the gentleman, but if it was the same tap he had tasted before, he had rather not.  Master Scrooge’s trunk being by this time tied on to the top of the chaise, the children bade the schoolmaster good-bye right willingly; and getting into it, drove gaily down he garden-sweep; the quick wheels dashing the hoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the evergreens like spray.

     “Always a delicate creature whom a breath might have withered,” said the Ghost.  “But she had a large heart!”

     “So she had,” cried Scrooge.  “You’re right.  I’ll not gainsay it, Spirit.  God forbid!”

     “She died a woman,” said the Ghost, “And had, as I think, children.”

     “One child,” Scrooge returned.

     “True,” said the Ghost.  “Your nephew.”

     Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind, and answered, briefly, “Yes.”

     The scene is particularly prone to pruning by people who want the story to move faster.  Some screenwriters simply combine this Christmas with the previous one.  (Dickens did so in his readings in public, as a matter of fact.)  Others skip from the schoolroom to Fezziwig’s, without stopping for Fan, leaving us wholly in the dark about how nephew Fred and Ebenezer are related.  Many make up for dropping these family strains and their effect on Scrooge’s personality by turning the apprentice Ebenezer, to be seen later, into a dour and serious lad, uninterested in Christmas.

     That bit of business with the schoolmaster appears in none of the pictures described here; in fact, he has very little part in the story until we reach Caine.

     Owen makes the two schoolroom scenes into one Christmas.  The depressed young Scrooge is standing at the end of the previous scene when a servant announces, “Master Scrooge, your sister is here.”  This Fan is a 1930s movie child playing at Little Red Riding Hood, perky enough for a Shirley Temple or two, but with a British accent.  After Fan delivers the “Home, for ever and ever” speech, she goes on in some detail about the holiday food ad Wonderful Christmas to come.  Young Scrooge exclaims, “God bless you, Fan!” twice.  The older Scrooge and the Ghost reappear now, the Ghost observing “She loved you.”  “She did.”  “I believe she had children before she died.”  “One child.”  “Yes, your nephew.”  Scrooge just looks at her.  Realizing he has gotten the point, she says, “Come.”

     In Sim I, a timid knock tells us something is about to happen.  Fan peeks around the door and, seeing her brother, cries “Ebenezer!”  She rushes in; old Scrooge runs to embrace her, and is devastated when she passes through him.  After she delivers the “Home, for ever and ever” speech, ebenezer breaks in to object that their father hardly knows him, and observes that their mother must have looked much as Fan does now.  Fan suggests this is why Father relented, and finishes that passage, adding that Ebenezer will never be lonely again “as long as I live.”  He tells her she must live forever then; nobody else has ever cared about him, and nobody else ever will.  When she tells him that’s nonsense, he sobs on her shoulder.  “She died a married woman,” the Ghost observes, “And had, as I think, children.”  “One child.”  :”True.  Your nephew.”  “She died giving him life.”  “As your mother died, giving you life, which your father never forgave you, as if you were to blame.”  Scrooge simply gazes straight ahead.

     In Rathbone we see a girl two or three years older than the boy; she slips in to slap a hand down on Ebenezer’s desk.  “I’ve come to bring you home, brother Ebenezer!”  “Home?”  “Yes, for good and all.  Father sent me in a coach to fetch you.  We’re going to be together all Christmas long and have the merriest Christmas ever!”  She has pulled Ebenezer from his seat and they are now dancing around the room.  Eventually, she draws him outside.  The Ghost gazes into the sky through most of the dialogue with old Scrooge.  He turns to face Ebenezer only on the words “Your nephew, Fred.”  Scrooge admits this, abashed.

     Sim II ages the schoolboy at a desk to the apprentice at a desk in Fezziwig’s, bypassing Fan.

     Finney’s Fan peeks in at the door and cries “Ebbie!”  The scene moves quickly, but largely as written.  The Ghost is stern reminding old Scrooge of “Your nephew!”  Scrooge looks guilty as he says “Yes.”  The Ghost then announces “Here’s a Christmas you really enjoyed.”

     Scott’s version of young Scrooge at this point resembles Abel Gance as the young Napoleon.  Fan is a brittle, large-eyed creature.  “Eb” refuses to believe her when she tells him he’s coming home, and when he does come to believe it, he isn’t all that perked up by it.  “Come,” his sister says, “We mustn’t keep Father waiting.”  The older Mr. Scrooge is outside: he is abrupt, severe, and sour (if he’s so much kinder than before, it’s a good thing we didn’t see him before.)  Ebenezer, he declares, will be allowed three days at home and then start his job at Fezziwig’s.  Fan objects, but Mr. scrooge is immovable; we can see that he and Eb are not going to enjoy being home for the holidays.  Old Scrooge’s face clearly shows he is not indulging happy memories.  The Ghost is intent on driving home the moral of the story; she points out that Fred Holywell “bears a strong resemblance to your sister.”  “Does he?  I never noticed.”  “You never noticed.  I’m beginning to think you’ve gone through life with your eyes closed.  Open them wide.”

     Caine drops Fan but DOES include the schoolmaster, who is shown to be the inspiration of Ebenezer’s work ethic.  We are also shown how the schoolhouse disintegrates, which is left out of other versions.  As far as the traditional course of the story, we simply bridge to the next scene by noting that young scrooge is about to be apprenticed to a fine businessman.

     In Curry, we see an older schoolboy throwing down his beloved copy of Robinson Crusoe, driven by his plight to scoff “Bah!  Humbug!” at it.  He looks out the window.  Old Scrooge sighs “So many lonely Christmases.”  The Ghost, subdued for once, replies, “Right.  But not this one!”  He points to the door as Fan flings it open,  Old Scrooge runs to embrace her, but she passes through him.  As she explains to Ebenezer why she’s there, he objects, “But Father….”  “Oh, pooh on Father!” she cries.  “I’M inviting you!”  (Presumably she hired the coach with hert mad money.)  The Ghost and Old Scrooge exchange remarks about her large heart; Scrooge recalls that they had a happy Christmas “in spite of Father” and goes on to wish that she was still alive, to invite him in for Christmas.  “But she has!” the Ghost objects.  “Her goodness lives on in Fred!”  Scrooge smiles.  “Yes.  I wish….”  Debit growls, and so does Scrooge, turning away.  The Ghost suggests “Let us visit another kind soul.”

     Stewart, watching his slightly older schoolboy self, seems to know who is coming (or has heard her theme music in the background.)  He turns to the door in time to see “Fran” enter.  Fran eventually takes her brother out to the coach and they ride for home, her head on his shoulder.  Old Scrooge turns away from the scene, his face hard.  “Such a delicate creature,” the Ghost remarks, “But she had a large heart.”  “So she had.  You’re right.  I’ll not gainsay it, Spirit, God forbid!”  “She died young.”  “Too young.”  “Your sister married and had children.”  “One child.”  “True.  Your nephew.”  Scrooge pauses.  “Fred.  Yes.”  He seems on the verge of realizing something, but they walk on.  Scrooge stops to stare.

FUSS FUSS FUSS #9: How Old WAS Ebenezer Scrooge?

     Let’s talk this over.  Why was young Ebenezer left to moulder at school over so many Christmases?  Children were routinely sent to school away from home, of course; one suspects many of them were kept there as long as possible to keep them out from underfoot.  (Day Care Centers have that problem with parents in our own day.)  All Dickens tells us is that this had something to do with an unpleasant father.  That, plus the fact that Scrooge’s mother is never so much as mentioned, has ;ed to a common tradition that Mr. Scrooge turned against Ebenezer because Mrs. Scrooge died in childbirth at Ebenezer’s debut in the world.

     The difficulty with that theory is that Dickens clearly makes Fan younger than her brother.  They COULD be half-siblings, of course, but most filmmakers prefer to swap their ages, or ignore the question altogether.  (In the version Basil Rathbone recorded for Columbia Records in 1942, he explains that he is at school because his father doesn’t like children.  Stewart states simply that his father turned against him when his mother died, without giving any cause of death for her.

     Now, most versions follow Dickens in giving us two different young Ebenezers: the younger one reading Robinson Crusoe and a somewhat older one reuniting with Fan.  The first schoolboy generally looks to be between seven and nine.  The Ebenezer of the Fan scenes varies more widely, with Stewart and Owen the youngest, at twelve or thirteen, Caine and Finney next, Curry well into his teens, with Scott and Sim I both sturdy young men.  When Fan arrives she is almost always an exuberant, excited child, glowing with health and the spirit of Christmas, looking not the least bit frail.  She seems to be two or three years younger than whatever Ebenezer she meets.  The exceptions are Owen, where Fan can’t be much more than nine, and Sim I and Scott, who are the most definite about the death in childbirth theory about Mrs. Scrooge.  In these, Fan might be a little older than her brother, or at least very close in age.  (There’s another answer: maybe they were twins.)

     Not that it makes any difference at all, at all, but the character of Fan was based on Dickens’s own sister Fan.  She was older than Charles.

     As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon an open country road, with fields on either hand.  The city had entirely vanished.  Not a vestige of it was to be seen, the darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold winter day, with snow upon the ground.

     “Good Heaven!” said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, as he looked about him.  “I was bred in this place.  I was a boy here!”

     The Spirit gazed upon him mildly.  Ts gentle touch, though it had been light and instantaneous, appeared still present in the old man’s sense of feeling.  He was conscious of a thousand odours floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares long, long forgotten!

     “Your lip is trembling,” said the Ghost.  :And what is that upon your cheek?”

     Scrooge muttered, with an unusual; catching in his voice, that it was a pimple, and begged the Ghost to lead him where he would.

     “You recollect the way?” inquired the Ghost.

     “Remember it?” cried Scrooge with fervour—“I could walk it blindfold.”

     “Strange to have forgotten it for so many years!” observed the Ghost.  “Let us go on.”

     They walked along the road; Scrooge recognized every gate, and post, and tree; until a little market town appeared I the distance, with ita bridge, its church, and winding river.  Some shaggy ponies now were seen trotting towards the with boys upon their backs, who called to other boys in country gigs and carts, driven by farmers.  All these boys were in great spirits, and shouted to each other, until the broad fields were so full of merry music, that the crisp air laughed to hear it.

     “These are but the shadows of the things that have been,” said the Ghost.  “They have no consciousness of us.”

     The jocund travellers came on, and as they came, Scrooge knew and named them every one.  Why was he rejoiced beyond all bounds to see them! Why did his cod eye glisten, and his heart leap up as they went past!  Why was he  filled with gladness when he heard them give each other Merry Christmas, as they parted at cross-roads and bye-ways, for their several homes!  What was merry Christas to Scrooge?  Out upon merry Christmas!  What good had it ever done to him?

     “The school is not quite deserted,” said the Ghost.  “A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still.”

     Scrooge said he knew it.  And he sobbed.

     They left the high-road, by a well-remembered lane, and soon approached a mansion of dull red brick, with a little weathercock-surmounted cupola on the roof, and a bell hanging in it.  It was a large house, but one of broken fortunes; for the spacious offices were but little used, their walls were damp and mossy, their windows broken, and their gates decayed.  Fowls clucked and trotted in the stables; and the coach-houses and sheds were over-run with grass.  Nor was it more retentive of its ancient state, within; for entering the dreary hall, and glancing through the open doors of many rooms, they found them poorly furnished, cold, and vast.  There was an earthy savour in the air, a chilly bareness in the place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up bu candle-light, and not too much to eat.

     They went, the Ghost and Scrooge, across the hall, to a door at the back of the house.  It opened before them, and disclosed a long, bare, melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain deal forms and desks.  At one of these a lonely boy was reading near a feeble fire; and Scrooge sat down upon a form, and wept to see his poor forgotten self as he had used to be.

     Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scuffle from the mice behind the panelling, not a drip from the half-thawed water-spout in the dull yard behind, not a sigh among the leafless boughs of one despondent poplar, not the idle swinging of an empty store-house door, no, not a clicking in the fire, but fell upon the heart of Scrooge with a softening influence, and gave a freer passage to his tears.

     The spirit touched him on the arm, and pointed to his younger self, intent upon his reading.  Suddenly a man, in foreign garments; wonderfully real and distinct to look at; stood outside the window, with an axe stuck in his belt, and leading an ass laden with wood by the bridle.

     “Why, it’s Ali Baba!” Scrooge exclaimed in ecstasy.  “It’s dear old honest Ali baba!  Yes, yes, I know!  One Christmas time, when yonder solitary child was left here all alone, he DID come, for the first time, just like that.  Poor boy!  And Valentine,” said Scrooge, “and his wild brother Orson; there they go!  And what’s his name, who was put down in his drawers, asleep, at the Gate of Damascus; don’t you see him!  And the Sultan’s Groom turned upside-down by the Genii; there he is upon his head!  Serve him right.  I’m glad of it.  What business had HE to be married to the princess?”

     To hear Scrooge expounding all the earnestness of his nature on such subjects, in a most extraordinary voice between laughing and crying; and to see his heightened and excited face; would have been a surprise to his business friends in the city, indeed.

     “There’s the Parrot!” cried Scrooge.  “Green body and yellow tail, with a thing like a lettuce growing out of the top of his head; there he is@  Poor Robin Crusoe, he called him, when he came home again after sailing round the island.  ‘Poor Robin Crusoe, where have you been, Robin Crusoe?’  The man thought he was dreaming, but he wasn’t.  It was the Parrot, you know.  There was Friday, running ro his life to the little creek!  Halloa!  Hoop!  Halloo!”

     Then, with a rapidity of transition foreign to his usual character, he said, in pity for his former sef, “Poor boy!” and cried again.

     “I wish” Scrooge muttered, putting his hand in his pocket, and looking about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff; “but it’s too late now.”

     “What is the matter?” said the Ghost.

     “Nothing,” said Scrooge.  “Nothing.  There was a boy singing a Christmas Carol at my door last night.  I should like to have given him something; that’s all.”

     The Ghost smiled thoughtfully, and waved his hand: saying as it did so, “Let us see another Christmas.”

     Ever notice how, having opened the window, the Ghost doesn’t take Scrooge out that way?  Anyhow, we’re done now with the prologue and introduction of characters and set-up of the situation and can now get on with the stuff the filmmakers like to play with.  Those who go in for analysis love this Ghost best; they can tell us why Scrooge grew up into such a grouch.  Others, looking for a quicker story, skip much of this, particularly the school section seen here.  Even Dickens, in his public readings of the Carol, omitted much of this section (though he is obviously letting us know what stories HE read as a kid.)

      Oddly, a lot of the versions which DO include the school leave out the punchline.  (“There was a boy singing a Christas Carol at my door”).  More give us Ali Baba or Robinson Crusoe, in fact, not wanting THEIR Scrooge to go so soft so fast.

     Hicks fades out of his bedroom and into the next scene (which is not this one.”

     Owen rises; beneath him, the roofs of London become flat, snow-covered farmland.  Scrooge’s smile is brilliant.  He and the Ghost come down in front of a huge manor house.  “Good heavens! This is my old school!  I was a boy here!”  A coach passes; he calls to the boys inside (who include Dick Wilkins, to be seen again later.)  The Ghost explains that these are but shadows, and so forth, asking “You know them?”  “I went to school with ‘em!  All of ‘em!”  “Your lip is trembling.”  “The cold!”  “Let us continue.  Do you remember this way?”  “Remember it?  I could walk it blindfold!”  Strange to have forgotten it for so long.”  She leads him on, amid heavy snow.  Young Ebenezer is standing on the front stairs.  “That is myself.”  “WAS yourself.”  Scrooge admits, with regret, “Was”.  “What is that on your cheek?”  “Nothing, nothing.  The cold.”  “Listen.”  Young “Eb” is chatting with another student.  Lying, he explains that he and his father talked it over, you know, and decided Christmas is really only for children; he can use the extra time for his studies.  When his companion leaves, he walks, reluctantly but with dignity, back into the well-kept schoolhouse, where he stops by a window and, burying his face in his hands, sobs.  This doesn’t last long; his head is up again as we move into the next scene.  (By the way, after the Ghost says “Listen”, there is no sign of her or the older Scrooge anywhere.)

     Sim I comes with the Ghost, shaking his head as he does so.  Wind blows on them; we see hourglasses and snow, and come to a landing among snowy hils.  Scrooge recognizes the place and notes that he was a boy here; the Ghost explains that these are but shadows of the things that have been.  “Look, there’s my old school.  How lonely and deserted it looks.”  The Ghost remarks that it is not quite deserted, that a solitary boy is there: “Yourself, Ebenezer.”  Scrooge slumps a bit.  “I now.”  They materialize inside a dim schoolroom, where adolescent Scrooge is walking to a window.  The next scene will be arriving to surprise him in just a moment.

     March, led through the window, walks straight into the next scene (which is not this one.)  Staring at what he sees, he pushes the shutters shut behind him.

     Rathbone and the Spirit vanish, and reappear in a landscape with heavy fog up to their shins.  The Spirit points out a pile of buildings in the distance.  “Good Heavens! I was bred in this place!  I was a boy here!”  “Strange to have forgotten it for so many years.”  A few boys gallop silently in front of them, Scrooge watches them without comment.  He is told, “These are the shadows of things that have been.  They have no consciousness of us..  Let us be on.”  The Spirit raises his hands, and Scrooge follows through the fog.  “The school is not quite deserted.  A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still.”  They have reached a Gothic arched window, bordered by stone laden with ivy but possessing no walls.  Scrooge peers in, excited, saying “I know!  It’s myself!”  Inside the classroom, we see a door, school desks, a blackboard on a tripod, but, again, no walls, the fog taking their place.  A youngish boy sits at a desk in the middle of all these clouds, reading; he looks to be about nine.

     Magoo flies through the window and over the city into fog and spirals; he comes to rest in some place we can’t quite see until the Ghost waves her holly.  “Do you know this place?  Do you remember the way?”  Scrooge sets off at a run through the streets of a village, calling “Merry Christmas!” to the individual shoppers until the Ghost informs him that these are but the shadows od things that have been.  Soon we stand before a big red schoolhouse with the word “SCHOOL” over the door.  There is a classroom with globe, blackboard, and other accoutrements, along with a solitary boy.  “Do you know this child?”  “The child is…young Ebenezer Scrooge!  You see he is left here all alone.  Nobody wants him.  Poor lad.”  There follows a musical number, “All Alone in the World”.  Old Scrooge sings along with his younger self, while the Ghost looks on in pity.  (Note that Young Ebenezer has drawn on the blackboard figures labeled “MOMA”, “POPPA”, and “SIS”; this is the only reference to Scrooge’s sister n this version.  If you want to go further with the analysis, of the three figures on the board, only SIS is smiling.)

     Haddrick flies from his bedroom and comes down in the rolling hills near a snowclad village.  “You recollect this place?”  “Remember it?  I walked these streets as a boy.”  The spirit explains that these are but shades of the things that have been, and goes on to say “Though we are actually here, no one can see us or hear us.”  This is not, however, the village where Scrooge went to school; this is where he was apprenticed to Fezziwig, and we skip ahead to that.

     Sim II encounters a blinding light and tumbles among dark rooftops.  “Good heavens!” he cries, looking over snowy fields, “I was a boy here!”  “Your lip is trembling.  And what is that on your cheek?”  “Nothing nothing.  Nothing.”  She explains about these being but the shadows of things that have been, and points out the school, noting that it is not quite deserted.  The schoolroom is a very empty, very cold place; the only color here is in the Ali Baba visions above young ebenezer’s head as he reads.  Scrooge wipes his eyes and says, “Poor boy!”  “Let us see another Christmas,” says the Ghost, hurrying us to Fezziwig’s.

     Finney sees a coach full of costumed boys and girls singing, followed by several similar coaches.  They are rendering “Sing a Christmas Carol”, one of the more sedate numbers in this production.  “Do you remember these children?”  “Of course.  All of them.  Look!  There’s my little sister!”  He calls out to “Fran” and demands, “Why doesn’t she wave back?”  “She cannot see you.  These are but shadows of the things that have been.”  Scrooge watches, and then remarks, “I could never join in those Christas parties.”  The Ghost points out the school, which is “not quite empty, is it?”  They find a solitary boy, neglected by his family, and watch him read a book.  Scrooge murmurs “Poor boy!” and then “I wish….”  The Ghost nags him until he admits that there were some boys singing outside his door; he should’ve given them something.

     Matthau flies through the window into a sky of distorted buildings and a twisted clock.  Scrooge declares, “I know not where you take me, yet all is strangely familiar.”  “Look upon yourself when you were younger.”  And on to Fezziwig’s.

     McDuck flies above the rooftops, running afoul of chimney smoke on the way.  He is terrified.  “What’s wrong, Scrooge?  I thought you enjoyed looking down on the world.”  They fly straight on to Fezziwig’s.

     Mist rises around Scott; we see strange shapes and then a snowy landscape.  Scrooge exclaims at the cleanliness of country air.  Delighted to see the passing coaches, he names the boys who pass and finally calls out to them.  They do not answer.  “I told you, Ebenezer.  They can’t hear you.”  “How happy they all seem.”  “That’s right.  They do.”  Scrooge allows as how he could walk this way blindfold, and they move on to a cramped, ill-lit schoolroom.  “Your school.”  “I remember.”  “And it’s Christas Day.”  “There’s a boy in there,” Scrooge tells the Ghost, “Neglected.”  “The boy is deserted by his friends and his family,” the Ghost reminds him.  “His mother is dead,” says Scrooge, “His father bears him a grudge.”  She asks why, and hears that the boy’s mother died in childbirth, giving birth to him.  “Weep for the boy,” she tells Scrooge, “If the tears will come.”  :He has his friends, even on tis day,” Scrooge tells herm going on to explain the boy has his beloved books.  “But not a real child to talk to, not a living person,” says the Ghost.  Scrooge scoffs: “Robinson Crusoe not real?  And Friday?  And the Parrot with the green body and yellow tail?  Not real?  He made do, this boy.”  When the Ghost says “Let us see another Christmas”, it is with a definite air of “Okay, buster, this next one’s really gonna sting.”

     Caine flies over the rooftops of London.  (Dickens, having caught at the pair with a grappling hook, flies along below, knocking over chimneypots.)  A brilliant light confuses Scrooge.  “It cannot be dawn!”  “It is the past.”  They fly over trees and snowy fields to land in a farmyard complete with farm cat for a bit of business with Dickens’s sidekick Rizzo.  It is the afternoon of Christmas Eve; Dickens explains about the thousand odors.  In wonder, Scrooge cries, “It’s my old school!  I was a boy here!”  he calls out to the boys, and the Ghost explains about these being but the shadows of things that have been.  They move inside; Scrooge notes the desks, and the familiar scent of chalk.  “I chose my profession in this room,” he explains.  The Ghosts asks if he remembers the boy as well.  “Good heavens!  It’s me!”  Two boys hurry past the door, calling out to Ebenezer that the last coach is leaving.  “Come on; he never goes home for Christmas.”  Young Ebenezer whirls to shout, “Who cares about stupid old Christmas?”  HE does, as a matter of fact.  Old Scrooge is stricken.  “I was often alone.”  He rallies, though, and lies about how all this solitude gave him time to study, and get extra work done.  “Let us see another Christmas in this place,” the Ghost suggests.  Scrooge is not enthusiastic about the idea.  “They were very much the same.  Nothing ever changed.”  “You changed.”

     Curry flies over London; there is fog and light and suddenly Scrooge is smiling.  “I was a boy here!”  They come to snowy hills.  “Do you recollect the way?”  “Recollect it?  I could walk it blindfold!”  A tall red pile of a building stands all alone; the door is reached by a long flight off stairs.  Scrooge is surprised to find he can walk through the door.  Inside, he sniffs the air and recalls the smell of chalk dust and smoke.  There are long tables; the place does have the decayed air described in the text.  Debit runs at the school cat and slides through it, allowing the Ghost to explain that these are but the shadows of the things that have been.  Then the Ghost points out “a small boy, all alone, neglected by his friends, rejected by the father wot left ‘im ‘ere.”  “Poor forgotten boy,” sighs Scrooge, “He…I…was never invited home for the holidays.”  Recalling the boy at his keyhole, he wishes he’d given the lad something.  The Ghost points out that Scrooge did give him something: a fistful of coal.  The Robinson Crusoe material is here, revised a bit: “You’ve been visited by Spirits before,” says the Ghost.  “Don’t mock me, Spirit.”  Old Scrooge’s recollections give way to young Scrooge’s reveries, which lead to a musical number extolling the adventures one can have reading alone.  The boy doesn’t quite convince himself; his enthusiasm and the fire die about the same time.  “Let’s see another Christmas.”

     As the Ghost touches Stewart, the walls fade and become a green forest, which then whitens.  Scrooge looks down to find autumn leaves brushing across the floor.  When the leaves have blown away, the floor is snow.  We can see now that the Ghost’s hair and sash and shoes are gold.  Scrooge is stunned to recognize his surroundings.  “Good heavens!  I know this place!  I was a boy here!”  “Do you remember the way?”  Scrooge replies, robustly, “Remember it?  I could walk it blindfold!”  Moving along, he spots the children.  “I know those boys!  We went to the same school!”  he exclaims their names, more labeling them to prime his memory than calling to them; when he sees one of his particular friends, however, he runs after him.  The Ghost must explain that these are but the shadows of the things that have been.  “They can’t see us or hear us.  They’re going home for the Christas holidays.”  Scrooge’s face shows he thinks it completely unfair to be shut out of the festivities a second time.  The Ghost turns away and Scrooge follows to a high pile of a building; part of this is in ruins.  In that part which is still watertight, they find a classroom which is cluttered, but capable of producing an echo.  Scrooge has to come around and gaze into the face of his younger self, perfectly amazed.  The Ghost is grave.  “Why didn’t you go home for Christmas?”  “Wasn’t wanted.  My father turned against me when my mother died.  Sent me away.  Didn’t want to see me, ever.”  “That’s hard.”  Scrooge will have none of this compassion, snapping “”Life is hard!”

     “Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?” asked Scrooge.

     “I am!”

     The voice was soft and gentle.  Singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.

     “Who, and what, are you?” Scrooge demanded.

     “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

     “Long Past?” inquired Scrooge: observant of its dwarfish nature.

     “No.  Your past.”

     Perhaps, Scrooge could not have told anybody why, if anybody could have asked him; but he had a special desire to see the Spirit in his cap, and begged him to be covered.

     “What?” exclaimed the Ghost, “would you so soon put out, with worldly hands, the light I give?  Is it not enough that you are one of those whose passions made this cap, and force me through whole trains of years to wear it low upon my brow?”

     Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offend, or any knowledge of having willfully “bonneted” the Spirit at any period of his life.  He then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.

     “Your welfare!” said the Ghost.

     Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end.  The Spirit must have heard him thinking for it said immediately:

     “Your reclamation, then.  Take heed!”

     It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the arm.

     “Rise!  And walk with me!”

     It would have been vain for Scrooge to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the thermometer a long way below freezing; that he was clad but lightly in his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that he had a cold upon him at that time.  The grasp, though gentle as a woman’s hand, was not to be resisted.  He rose; but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, clasped its robe in supplication.

     “I am a mortal,” Scrooge remonstrated, “and liable to fall.”

     “Bear but a touch of my hand THERE,” said the Spirit, laying it upon his heart, “And you shall be upheld in more than this!”

     This passage holds a lot of classic lines, which does not keep filmmakers from changing them.  (Amazing, for starters, how many bits were not dialogue in the original at all; Scrooge only THINKS about a night of unbroken rest, for example.)  About the only thing omitted outright in most cases is the Spirit’s cap.  When a ghost does carry this in the movies, the Ghost frequently is moved to explain the whole metaphor, which Dickens thought we’d be able to get on our own.  Since no two Ghosts seem to agree on its significance, though, maybe he was wrong.

     Hicks skips all of this.  His Ghost simply tells him, “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.  I am here to show you the things that have been.  Look back beyond the gulf of vanished years.”

     “Are you the Spirit I was told to expect?” asks Owen, “Who are you?”  “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”  She approaches; Scrooge cries, “The light!  It hurts my eyes!~  It blinds me!”  “I’m not surprised,” is the Ghost’s calm response, “It’s the warming light of cheerfulness, the light of gratitude to others.”  “I’ve never seen it before.”  Again, she is unsurprised; she tells Scrooge that men of greed like him have long forgotten gratitude.  “Oh.  What’s your business with me?”  “Your welfare, your reclamation: rise and walk with me.”  Scrooge climbs wearily out of bed.  The window opens; Scrooge looks around in apprehension.  “We spirits have no fear,” she assures him.  “But I’m not a spirit!”  “Bear but a touch of my hand on your heart and you shall be safe.”

     Oh, look at the expression on Sim I’s face!  When told the Spirit is here for his welfare, he responds “My welfare.”  The Ghost comprehends.  “Your reclamation, then.  Take heed, rise, and walk with me.”  A lift of the ghostly hand makes the distant window slide open.  Scrooge doesn’t care for the trick.  “Through the window?”  “Are you afraid?”  Scrooge explains that he is a mortal, and liable to fall, but the way he shuffles his feet and pulls at the collar of his robe show this is merely a schoolboy excuse; he just doesn’t want to go.  They complete the dialogue as written.

     March asks “Are you the Spirit I was to expect?”  “I am.”  “Odd.  Very odd.  You resemble HER so very much.  What Spirit are you?”  “I am the Spirit of Christmas Past.”  “What past?”  “Your past, among others.”  “What did you wish to see me about,” says the constant man of business.  “Your welfare.”  “I;ve had so little sleep.”  “I am sent to save you from yourself.  You have forgotten what the world is like for children.”  She pushes the window open.  “Come with me.”  “as I am?”  “As you are.”  “Which way?”  She indicates the shutters and he draws back.  “No!  Not that way!  I shall fall!”  “Not when you’re with me.”

     Rathbone boils this down considerably.  “Are you the Spirit whose coming was foretold to me?”  “I am.”  “Who and what are you?”  “I am the Spirit of Christmas Past.”  “And what business brings you here?”  “Your welfare and your reclamation.  Come with me.”  At the window, Scrooge pulls back.  “But I am a mortal!”  Something about the Spirit’s face makes him moderate his tone and he adds, more quietly, “And liable to fall.”  “Bear but a touch of my hand here and you shall be upheld in more than this.”  The hand does go to Scrooge’s chest.

     When told why the Ghost is there, Magoo replies, “Well, I’m much obliged, but a good night of unbroken rest is what I need, of you’re so concerned.”  “Rise, and walk with me.”  “Oh, humbug!  Forcing a fellow to leave his bed in the middle of the night!”  “Come!”  He complains of being cold, and of not having a decent stitch to warm his old bones.  When close enough to see the window is their destination, he whines about that as well.  “Touch my hand, and you shall be upheld.”

     Haddrick stammers in terror.  The dialogue about “Your past” and “Your welfare” is omitted.  “’Tis hardly the hour or the weather for pedestrian purposes,” he complains, “It is below freezing and I am but lightly clad.”  The Ghost touches his hand to lead him out.  “I’m mortal, don’t forget, and likely to fall.”  (Since we have not approached a window, where he is going to fall is not immediately obvious.)

     After Sim II’s frightened stammering, the scene moves quickly past a lot of unuttered dialogue.

     Finney demands, “Who are you?”  “I am the Spirit whose coming was foretold to you.”  “You don’t look like a Ghost.”  “Thank you.”  “May I inquire more precisely who or what you are?”  The dialogue follows much as Dickens wrote it, without any of the cap business.  When his welfare comes up, Scrooge points out, “To be awakened by a ghost at one o’clock in the morning is hardly conducive to my welfare.”  “Your redemption, then.  Rise!  And walk with me.”  “Where are we going?”  “We are going to look at your childhood.”

     Matthau is informed, “I am the Ghost of Christmas past.”  “Long past?”  “Your past.  Here.  Hold my hand.”

     The Ghost has to bang on the alarm clock bell to wake McDuck.  “Well?” he demands, when Scrooge does wake up, “About time!  Haven’t got all night, y’know.”  Startled, Scrooge asks, “Who are you?”  “Why, I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past.”  “Oh.”  Scrooge rolls over to go back to sleep, adding, “I thought you’d be taller.”  The Ghost snaps that if men were measured by kindness, Scrooge himself would be no bigger than a speck of dust.  “Kindness is of little use in this world,” Says Scrooge, sleepily.  “You didn’t always think so.  Come on, Scrooge: it’s time to go.”  “Then go!”  The Ghost opens a window, allowing a gust of cold wind to startle Scrooge.  “What are you going?”  “We’re going to visit your past.”  “I’m not going out there. I’ll fall!”  “Just hold on.”  Scrooge clutches the miniature ghost.

     Scott’s ghost is stern.  She explains that HER light is the light of truth.  When he makes a crack about a night of unbroken sleep, she warns him severely, “Be careful, Ebenezer Scrooge.  I speak of your reclamation.”  Scrooge’s expressions shows he never really thought she’d listen to reason.  “Ah.  Well, if tit’s reclamation, then let’s get on with it.”  They do not bother with the window; mist surrounds them.  “Come.  We shall be invisible, and silent as the grave.  You will see a child, a youth; you will see yourself, Ebenezer.”

     Caine asks “Are you the Spirit whose coming was foretold to me?”  “I am.”  “But you’re just a child.”  “I can remember nearly 1900 years.”  A little later, he objects that a night of unbroken rest might be better for his welfare, she replies, “Your salvation, then.”  They head for the window; when he shows apprehension, she assures him, “A touch of my hand, and you shall fly.”

     Curry is so startled he bangs his head on the headboard of the bed.  When he inquires whether this is the first Spirit Jacob talked about, the Ghost tells him, “Spot on, Guvnor.  I’m the Ghost of Christmas past.”  The reclamation/welfare bit is reduced to “It’s for your own good.”  At the window, the Ghost calls, “Shuffle your stumps, Scrooge!”  Scrooge, having some spirit left of his own, snaps, “I’m not made of mist and moonlight, like you.”  The Ghost takes his wrist and pulls him out.  Debit, chomping tight to the hem of the dressing gown, tries to hold Scrooge back, and winds up being towed through the air as well.

     Stewart shields his eyes against the light of the Spirit, and begs the Ghost to don that cap.  “Be covered.”  The ghost becomes fierce in reply but, when Scrooge apologizes, does tone down his light just a touch.  When told to rise, Scrooge overflows with excuses.  “Some other time, perhaps.  I’m not dressed.  I have a weak chest, monstrous head cold….”  The Ghost insists, and Scrooge, shaking his head, puts out a hand.  He is genuinely frightened as they near the window.  “All I have to do is touch you…there.”  The Ghost lays a hand on Scrooge’s chest.

FUSS FUSS FUSS #8: How Do You Feel About This?

   The Ghost of Christmas Past is here to point out inconsistencies in Ebenezer Scrooge’s past and, as hinted at the very end of the passage, try to touch his heart.  Dicken sketches the lessons for us, but does not tell us what the teacher thinks of the pupil.  Was the Ghost supposed to be neutral?  Gently persuasive?  Ironic?  Downright nasty?  All these angles can be seen in various versions, though the preference seems to be for an otherworldly serenity.  I read the different Pasts as

     VOICE OF DOOM: Hicks

     CALM DETACHMENT: Owen, Sim I, March, Rathbone, Magoo, Sim II, Matthau, Caine, Stewart

     DISAPPOINTMENT: Haddrick

     AMUSED CONTEMPT: McDuck, Scott, Curry

     LOFTY CONTEMPT: Finney

     Some Ghosts show a change of heart as they move through the scenes of Scrooge’s past.  Magoo’s Ghost becomes suddenly sardonic at the end, apparently disgusted with her charge.  Curry’s Ghost, who gets a great deal of joy out of tormenting Scrooge, begins to show sympathy as the young Scrooge and Belle break their engagement, as does Finney’s Ghost.  Scott’s, however, does not soften in the slightest, becoming, if anything, even stonier as they move along.

     The curtains of the bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a hand.  Not the curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those to which his face was addressed.  The curtains of his bed were drawn aside and Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude,  found himself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them; as close to it as I am now to you, and I am standing in spirit at your elbow.

     It was a strange figure—like a child; yet not so like a child as like an old an, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a child’s proportion.  Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrnle in it, ad 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, ost 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.

     Even this, though, when Scrooge looked at it with increasing steadiness, was not its strangest quality.  For as it s belt sparkled and glittered now in one part and now in another, and what was light one instant, at another time was dark, so the figure itself fluctuated in distinctness being now a thing with one arm, now with one leg, now with twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now a head without a body; of which dissolving parts, no outline would be visible in the dense gloom wherein they melted away.  And in the very wonder of this, it would be itself again, distinct and clear as ever.

     Well, this is clearly unfilmable as written.  Oh, we have the gadgetry to do it, especially nowadays, but if you did produce a computer projection which reproduced exactly what Dickens had in mind, this representation of mingled and fading memories, no one could look at it for very long, while at the same time, few of us would have an eye for anything else happening onscreen.  As is pointed out in The Annotated Christmas Carol, this is also the one ghost John Leech did not attempt to show us in his illustrations for the first edition of the book itself.

     So Ghosts of Christmas Past come in a variety on the screen.

     THE ORIGINAL

     Sim II makes the attempt.  This apparition is a girl (though Scrooge, true to the text, address it as “Sir”) who is chubby, thin, pump again, had one head, then two then three, then one again as her hands and arms wither and grow young again repeatedly.  She carries a sprig of holly and a cap, and wears a skirt much plumped out by crinolines or ectoplasm.  She has a sash, and walks barefoot.  Her voice is that of a middle-aged woman.

    MEN

     Hicks gets a luminous outline of a man.  Its voice is serene, and detached.

     A blob of light in Sim I resolves itself into a benign old man with long white hair, wearing a white robe and cape.  He is barefoot, with a glittering sash at his waist and a garland about his neck.

     Rathbone, having just checked the locks on his door, turns to find a Biblical Patriarch fading into view.  The figure, which wears a white robe and sash (and gloves), beckons.

     Haddrick has an old man with a beard and a crozier.  He wears a robe, and is the picture of a gentle elderly saint.  His voice is high and slightly sepulchral.

     Matthau meets a small old man with a slight resemblance to Jacob Marley.  Rays of light rise from this ghost’s head in a sort of crown, and he wears a white brown with colored collar and cuffs, and a belt.  In one hand he carries the cap, in the other a sprig of holly.

     Stewart gets a small older manchild with long hair.  His clothes are silvery-satiny, and he is luminescent, with an aura.  He carries a cap and wears a necklace of holly.  His clothes and face could make him a solemn official rom some distant medieval banquet, or a grave jester, or even a Muppet.  His attitude is calm, slow, serene.

     WOMEN

     Owen watches as a lump of light resolves itself into a Hollywood ingenue auditioning for the role of Glinda the Good.  She has golden ringlets, a nurse’s cap with a star on it, and a belted satin gown.

     March is rousted from bed when his shutters fly open, allowing a cold wind to blow back his bedcurtains.  He rises to close the shutters but a bright light alerts hi to strange doings.  Turning, he finds a fresh-faced brunette with a smile.  Her hair is pulled back under a shining circlet, and her plain white gown is cut rather daringly in front.

     Magoo finds a girl (or just possibly a boy) with neatly bobbed blonde hair, a tunic and short skirt (or a long tunic belted in the middle) and shoes bound at the ankle.  A flame rides above her head; she holds a sprig of holly in one hand.

     Finney gets a very solid=looking matron in a fashionable red dress and very expensive hat.  Her earrings glitter, and she wears a black choker.  Hands clad in white gloves reside within a fur muff.  She is very sure of herself, and obviously intends to take no nonsense from any Ebenezer Scrooge.

     Scott meets a woman whose voice is older than her face.  She wears a white robe with a sash of leaves.  She is barefoot, a tad feral, and carries holly in one hand while that cap hangs from a ribbon attached at her waist.

     THE ECCENTRIC

     McDuck gets Jiminy Cricket.

     Caine, after opening the bedcurtains himself and brandishing a poker, watches the light that woke hi coalesce into a diaphanous clump of white gauze with a girl’s head; this head has long blonde hair and a hat.  The voice is that of a young girl; her hand, when she extends it to Scrooge, is that of a baby.

     Curry gets an impudent pearlie who laughs WAY too much.