A Christmas Carol; Or, The Miser's Warning!

First produced at the Royal Surrey Theatre, Feb. 5th, 1844.

COSTUME.

Scrooge – Brown old-fashioned coat, tea colour breeches, double-breasted white waistcoat. 2nd. – Dressing gown and slippers.

Frank – Private dress.

Mr. Cheerly – Blue coat, cord breeches, and gaiters.

Mr. Heartly – Green coat, black breeches, top boots.

Bob Cratchit – Black old-fashioned coat, black trousers.

Dark Sam – Dark green shooting coat and breeches, ragged. Second dress – Shabby black coat.

Euston – Shabby private clothes.

Mr. Fezziwig – Black coat, black breeches, double-breasted waistcoat, and striped stockings.

Marley's Ghost – Slate coloured coat, waistcoat, and pantaloons, black boots, white frill, white band.

Christmas Past – White dress trimmed with summer flowers, rich belt, fleshings and sandals.

Christmas Present – Long green robe, trimmed with ermine, flesh body and legs, wreath round head.

Christmas to Come – Very long black gown.

Tiny Tim – Blue jacket and trousers.

All the Ladies – Modern dresses.

ACT I

Scrooge, the Miser, discovered near fire. Bob Cratchit, writing near desk, l. h. As the Curtain rises he descends from stool – approaches fire to stir it.

Scrooge. Bob – Bob, we shall be obliged to part. You'll ruin me in coals!

Bob. Ruin you – with such a fire in such weather! I've been trying to warm myself by the candle for the last half hour, but not being a man of strong imagination, failed.

Scr. Hark! I think I hear some one in the office. Go – see who it is.

Bob. (Aside.) Marley's dead – his late partner is dead as a door nail! If he was to follow him, it wouldn't matter much. (Exit 2 e. l. h.

Scr. Marley has been dead seven years, and has left me his sole executor – his sole administrator – his sole residuary legatee – his sole friend – his sole mourner! My poor old partner! I was sorely grieved at his death, and shall never forget his funeral. Coming from it, I made one of the best bargains I ever made. Ha, ha. Folks say I'm tight-fisted – that I'm a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, clutching miser. What of that? It saves me from being annoyed by needy men and beggars. So, this is Christmas eve – and cold, bleak, biting weather it is, and folks are preparing to be merry. Bah! what's Christmas eve to me? what should it be to them?

Bob. There's your uncle, sir. (Aside.) Old covetous! He's worse than the rain and snow. They often come down, and handsomely too, but Scrooge never does! (Exit 2 e. l. h.

Scr. Who's that?

Frank. A merry Christmas, uncle!

Scr. Bah! humbug!

Frank. Uncle, you don't mean that, I'm sure.

Scr. I do. Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? You're poor enough.

Frank. (Gaily.) Come, then, what right have you to be dismal! What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough.

Scr. Bah! humbug!

Frank. Don't be cross, uncle.

Scr. What else can I be, when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon Merry Christmas. What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money – a time for finding yourself a year older, and not an hour richer. If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with merry Christmas on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart – he should!

Frank. Uncle!

Scr. Nephew, keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.

Frank. Keep it! But you don't keep it.

Scr. Let me leave it alone, then. Much good may it do you. Much good it has ever done you.

Frank. There are many things from which I might have derived good by which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest, but I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time – a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys, and, therefore, uncle, though it has not put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good, and I say, Heaven bless it!

Bob. (Looking in.) Beautiful – beautiful!

Scr. Let me hear another sound from you – (To Bob.) – And you'll keep your Christmas by losing your situation.

Bob. (Aside.) He growls like a bear with a sore head! (Disappears.)

Scr. You're quite a powerful speaker. I wonder you don't go into Parliament.

Frank. Don't be angry. Come – dine with me to-morrow.

Scr. No, no —

Frank. But why not?

Scr. Why did you get married?

Frank. Because I fell in love.

Scr. Because you fell in love! Bah! good evening.

Frank. I want nothing – I ask nothing of you. Well, I'm sorry to find you so resolute – we have never had any quarrel – I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas humour to the last – so, a merry Christmas, uncle.

Scr. Good evening!

Frank. And a happy new year!

Scr. Good evening!

Frank. And a happy Christmas, and a merry new year to you, Bob Cratchit. (Shaking him by the hand.)

Bob. The same to you, sir, and many of 'em, and to your wife, and to your darling children, and to all your friends, and to all you know, and to every one, to all the world. (Exit Frank, 2 e. l. h.)

Scr. (Aside.) There's another fellow, my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking about a merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam.

Bob. Two gentlemen want you, sir, as fat as prize beef – shall I call 'em in? (Goes to side.) Walk this way if you please, gentlemen.

Cheer. Scrooge and Marley's – I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Marley!

Scr. Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years.

Cheer. At this festive season of the year, it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute – many thousands are in want of common necessaries – hundreds of thousands are in want of common comfort, sir.

Scr. Are there no prisons? and the union workhouses, are they still in operation?

Cheer. They are still – I wish I could say they were not.

Scr. The treadmill and the poor law are in full vigour then?

Cheer. Both very busy, sir.

Scr. Oh! I was afraid from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course. I'm very glad to hear it!

Cheer. Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude, a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this time because it is a time of all others, when want is keenly felt and abundances rejoice. What shall we put you down for?

Scr. Nothing!

Cheer. You wish to be anonymous?

Scr. I wish to be left alone. I don't make merry myself at Christmas, and I can't afford to make idle people merry – I help to support the establishments I have named – they cost enough – those who are badly off must go there.

Cheer. Many can't go there – many would rather die!

Scr. If they'd rather die, they'd better do it, and decrease the surplus population. However, it's not my business, so good evening, gentlemen.

Cheer. I am sorry we disturbed you. (As they are about to exeunt, Bob approaches them —Scrooge retires up.)

Bob. Beg pardon, gentlemen, I've got an odd eighteen-pence here that I was going to buy a new pair of gloves with in honour of Christmas day, but my heart would feel warmer though my hands were colder, if it helped to put a dinner and a garment on a poor creature who might need. There take it.

Cheer. Such acts as these from such men as you sooner or later, will be well rewarded.

Bob. This way, gentlemen. I feel as light as my four-and-ninepenny gossamer! (Exeunt 2 e. l. h.)

Scr. (Coming down.) Give money – humbug! Who'd give me anything, I should like to know?

Bob. A letter, sir. (Gives it and retires up.)

Scr. (Opens it – reads.) Ah! what do I see? the Mary Jane lost off the coast of Africa. Then Frank is utterly ruined! his all was embarked on board that vessel. Frank knows not of this – he will apply to me doubtless – but no, no. Why should I part with my hard gained store to assist him, his wife and children – he chooses to make a fool of himself, and marry a smooth-faced chit, and get a family – he must bear the consequences – I will not avert his ruin, no, not by a single penny.

Bob. (Coming down.) Please, sir, it's nine o'clock.

Scr. Already! You'll want all day to-morrow, I suppose.

Bob. If quite convenient, sir.

Scr. It's not convenient, and it's not fair. If I was to stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound, and yet you don't think me ill used when I pay a day's wages for no work.

Bob. Christmas comes but once a year.

Scr. A poor excuse for picking a man's pockets every twenty-fifth of December! Well, I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning. Here's your week's money, fifteen shillings – I ought to stop half-a-crown – never mind!

Bob. Thank you, sir! I'll be here before daylight, sir, you may depend upon it. Good night, sir. Oh, what a glorious dinner Mrs. C. shall provide. Good night, sir. A merry Christmas and a happy new year, sir.

Scr. Bah! humbug! (Exit Bob, 2 e. l. h.) So – alone once more. It's a rough night! I will go to bed soon – that will save supper. (Takes off his coat, boots, etc., and puts on morning gown and slippers, talking all the time.) 'Tis strange now the idea of Marley is haunting me to-night – everywhere I turn his face seems before me. Delusion – humbug! I'll sit down by the fire and forget him. (Takes basin of gruel from hob.) Here's my gruel! (Sits in easy chair by fire – puts on night cap, and presently appears to dose. Suddenly a clanking of chains and ringing of bells is heard – he's aroused, and looks up terrified.) That noise! It's humbug! I won't believe it! (The door slowly opens, and the Ghost of Marley glides in. A chain is round his body, and cash boxes, ledgers, padlocks, purses, etc., are attached to it.) How now! What do you want with me?

Ghost. Much.

Scr. Who are you?

Ghost. Ask me who I was.

Scr. Who were you, then. You're particular for a shade – I mean to a shade.

Ghost. In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley. You don't believe in me! Why do you doubt your senses?

Scr. Because a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef – a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are.

Ghost. (Unfastening the bandage round its head.) Man of the worldly mind, do you believe me or not?

Scr. I do – I must! But why do spirits walk the earth? Why do they come to me?

Ghost. It is required of every man that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow men, and travel far and wide – if not in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world, oh, woe is me! – and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness.

Scr. You are fettered!

Ghost. I wear the chain I forged in life – I made it link by link. Is its pattern strange to you? Oh, no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunities misused.

Scr. But you were always a man of business —

Ghost. Business! Mankind was my business – charity, mercy, were all my business. At this time of the year I suffered most, for I neglected most. Hear me! I am here to-night to warn you that you have a chance and a hope of escaping my fate. You will be haunted by three spirits —

Scr. I – I'd rather be excused!

Ghost. Without their visits you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first when the clock strikes one. Look to see me no more. For your own sake, remember what has passed between us. (Binds wrapper round its head once more – slowly approaches the door and disappears. Scrooge follows the phantom towards the door.)

Scr. It is gone. The air seems filled with phantoms – shades of many I knew when living – they all wear chains like Marley – they strive to assist the poor and stricken, but in vain – they seek to interfere for good in human nature, but have lost the power forever. (The clock strikes one —Scrooge staggers to a chair – the room is filled with a blaze of light – the Ghost of Christmas Past rises through trap – As described in Work, page 43.) Are you the spirit whose coming was foretold to me?

1st Spirit. I am!

Scr. Who and what are you?

1st Spirit. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. Your welfare – your reclamation brings me here. Turn, and behold! (The Stage, becomes dark – a strong light is seen behind – the wall of the Miser's chamber fades away and discovers a school-room – a child is seated reading by a fire.) All have departed but this poor boy.

Scr. My poor forgotten self – and as I used to be!

1st Spirit. Look again! (A figure of Ali Baba is shown beyond the Child.)

Scr. Why it's dear old honest Ali Baba! Yes, one Christmas time, when yonder poor child was left alone, he did come just like that! (The figures of Valentine and Orson appear.) Ha! and Valentine and his wild brother Orson, too! (Robinson Crusoe and Friday appear.) Ha! and Robinson Crusoe, and his man Friday! Poor boy! he was left alone, while all the rest were making holiday. (The figures of Ali Baba, etc., disappear. As he speaks, a little Girl enters the school-room, and approaches the Boy.)

Girl. I am come to bring you home, dear brother – we are to be together this Christmas, and be so merry! (She leads him out. Scene fades away.)

Scr. My sister! poor little Fanny!

1st Spirit. A delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered. She died a woman, and had, as I think, children.

Scr. One child!

1st Spirit. True – your nephew. Know you this place? (The Scene at back is again lighted up, and discovers Fezziwig's warehouse. Fezziwig and Characters grouped as in Frontispiece of Work. Scrooge, as a young man.)

Scr. Why, 'tis old Fezziwig, to whom I was apprenticed – he is alive again! My fellow-apprentice, Dick Wilkins, too – myself, as I was then. 'Tis Christmas eve there. The happiness he gave at so small a price was quite as much as though it cost a fortune. (The tableau fades away. The Stage becomes dark. Enter Ellen in mourning. During the fading of the tableau Scrooge puts a cloak around him, etc., and seems a younger man.) I feel as if my years of life were less. Ha! who is this beside me?

1st Spirit. Have you forgotten your early love?

Scr. Ellen!

Ellen. Ebenezer, I come to say farewell forever! It matters little to you – very little – another idol has displaced me, and if I can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve.

Scr. What idol has displaced you?

Ellen. A golden one – the master passion. Gain alone engrosses you.

Scr. I have not changed towards you.

Ellen. Our contract is an old one – it was made when we were both poor. You are changed – I am not. That which promised happiness when we were one in heart, is fraught with misery now we are two. How often and how keenly I have thought of this I will not say. I have thought of it, and can release you.

Scr. Have I ever sought release?

Ellen. In word – no, never!

Scr. In what, then?

Ellen. In a changed nature – in an altered spirit – in every thing that made my love of any worth or value in your sight. If this had never been between us, tell me, would you seek me out, and try to win me now? Ah, no!

Scr. You think not —

Ellen. I would think otherwise if I could – but if you were free to-day, can even I believe that you would choose a dowerless girl – you who weigh everything by gain? Or did you so, do I not know your repentance and regret would surely follow. I do – and I release you, with a full heart, for the love of him you once were. You will forget all this – may you be happy in the life you have chosen! (She slowly exits r. h. Scrooge throws aside his cloak, and appears as before.)

Scr. Spirit, show me no more! Why do you delight to torture me?

1st Spirit. One shadow more. She whom you resigned for gold – for gain – for sordid ore – she you shall now behold as the tender wife of a good and upright man – as the happy mother of smiling children. You shall see them in their joyous home. Come, thou lonely man of gold – come!

Scr. No, no!

1st Spirit. I told you these were the shadows of the things that have been – that they are what they are do not blame me. Come —

Scr. No, no – I've seen enough – haunt me no longer! (The Spirit seizes him – he seizes the cap presses it upon the Spirit's head, who sinks under it, and disappears in a flood of light while Scrooge sinks exhausted on the floor.)

Sam. It's very odd! I an't nimmed nothing to-night. Christmas eve, too – when people's got sich lots of tin! But they takes precious good care of it, 'cos I s'pose they thinks if they loses it, they shan't be able to get no Christmas dinner. If I can't prig nothin', I'm sure I shan't be able to get none. Unless this trade mends soon, I must turn undertaker's man again. There is a chance, in that honourable calling of a stray thing or two. Somebody comes! I wonder if I shall have any luck now.

Bob. I shall soon be home! Won't my Martha be glad to see me – and what a pleasant happy Christmas Day we shall spend. What a dinner we shall have! I've got fifteen shillings – my week's wages – and I'm determined to spend every farthing of it. Won't we have a prime goose, and a magnificent pudding! And then the gin and water – and oranges – and the – oh, how jolly we shall be! And Tiny Tim, too – he never tasted goose before – how he will lick his dear little chops at the sage and onions! And as for Martha – my dear Martha, who is a dress-maker, and can only come to see us once in about four months – she shall have the parson's nose. Let me see – a goose will cost seven shillings – pudding five – that's twelve. Oranges, sage and onions, potatoes, and gin, at least three shillings more. Oh, there will be quite enough money, and some to spare. (During this speech Sam advances cautiously and picks his pocket.)

Sam. (Aside.) Some to spare! It can't fall into better hands than mine, then! (Exit r. h.

Bob. I've a good mind to buy the goose going home; but then if it should turn out fusty – I think I had better leave it for Mrs. C. The moment I get home, I'll pop the money into her hands, and – (Feeling in his pockets.) – Eh? – what – what's this? Somebody has been having a joke at my expense. Eh? my week's salary – my fifteen shillings – it's gone! I'm ruined – lost – undone! My pocket has been picked! I've lost my Christmas dinner before I've got it! Oh, how can I face Mrs. C., and Bob, and Martha, and Tiny Tim! Oh, what can I do?

Frank. What my worthy friend Bob Cratchit – how is this, man? you look sorrowful, and on Christmas eve, too!

Bob. Some of those boys whom I was sliding with on the ice in Cornhill must have done it.

Frank. Done it! Done what, man?

Bob. Stole my Christmas dinner – my – salary – I mean my fifteen shillings, that your uncle paid me not an hour ago.

Frank. That's unfortunate!

Bob. Unfortunate! Think of Tiny Tim's disappointment – no goose – no pudding – no nothing!

Frank. Tiny Tim shall not go without his Christmas dinner notwithstanding your loss – no, nor you either – nor any of your family, Bob Cratchit. At such a time as this, no one should be unhappy – not even my hard-hearted uncle, much less a worthy fellow like you. Here, Bob, here's a sovereign – you can return it when my uncle raises your wages – no thanks, but go and be as happy as you deserve to be – once more, a merry Christmas to you! (Exit r. h.

Bob. He's a regular trump! I wanted to thank him, and couldn't find the words! I should like to laugh, and I feel as if I could cry. If Tiny Tim don't bless you for this my name's not Bob Cratchit! I've lost fifteen shillings, and I've found a sovereign! (Dances.) Tol lol li do! Oh, Mrs. Cratchit! Oh, my little Cratchit! what a happy Christmas Day we shall spend, surely! What a pity Christmas don't last all the year round! (Exit l. h.)

Scrooge discovered, sleeping in a chair. The Stage becomes suddenly quite light, and the Ghost of Christmas Present discovered, as in Work, page 78, the wall at back covered with ivy, holly, and mistletoe – heaped upon the floor, almost to form a throne, are turkeys, geese, plum puddings, twelfth cake, etc. (See Page 78.)

2nd Spirit. Know me, man? I am the ghost of Christmas Present. Look upon me. (Scrooge rises, approaches, and gazes at the figure.) You have never seen the like of me before?

Scr. Never!

2nd Spirit. Have never walked forth with the younger members of my family, meaning, for I am very young, my elder brothers born in these latter years.

Scr. I'm afraid I have not. Have you had many brothers, Spirit?

2nd Spirit. More than eighteen hundred!

Scr. A tremendous family to provide for! (The Spirit rises.) Spirit, conduct me where you will – if you have ought to teach me, let me profit by it. Why do you carry that torch?

2nd Spirit. To sprinkle the light and incense of happiness every where – to poor dwellings most.

Scr. Why to poor ones most?

2nd Spirit. Because they need it most. But come – touch my robe – we have much to see. (As Scrooge approaches nearer to him, the Scene changes.)

Scr. What place is this?

2nd Spirit. A place where miners live, who labour in the bowels of the earth – they know me. See! (As he speaks, the window is lighted from within. The Spirit draws Scrooge to window.) What seest thou?

Scr. A cheerful company assembled round a glowing fire – an old man and woman, with their children, and children's children all decked gaily out in their holiday attire. I hear the old man's voice above the howling of the wind upon the barren waste; singing a Christmas song, while all swell out the chorus.

2nd Spirit. Come, we must not tarry – we will to sea – your ear shall be deafened by the roaring waters.

Scr. To sea? no, good Spirit!

2nd Spirit. See yonder solitary lighthouse built on a dismal reef of sunken rocks. Here we men who watch the light, have made a fire that sheds a ray of brightness on the awful sea, joining their horny hands over the rough table where they sit, they wish each other a merry Christmas in can of grog and sing a rude lay in honour of the time. All men on this day have a kinder word for one another – on such a day – but come – on – on! (As he speaks the Scene changes.)