By Patrick Hilleary
Image: Pixabay
Hello and Seasons Greetings to you all. I hope you are having a very Merry Christmas Season and are able to spend it with those you love. It’s been some time since I’ve expressed myself online, but I was doing my annual rewatch of A Christmas Carol (I switch the particular version every year, with some of my favorites would be Alistair Sim, George C. Scott, Patrick Stewart, and of course, Michael Caine in the Muppets’ rendition), and found myself getting thoughtful on this subject. I consider A Christmas Carol to be the best bit of literature centered around the holiday, even among the many other works which I hold in high regard. Dickens himself loved the holiday so much that he wrote about it many times, but you’d be hard pressed to argue that any of his other Christmas stories surpass A Christmas Carol, either in quality or in popularity.
I doubt I need to sell anybody on it, nor summarize the events; you already know the story. It’s a character study of an individual who, it might be said, embodies the exact opposite of the Christmas spirit (so much so, that his very name has become synonymous with “misanthropic grouch”), and how his perspective was radically turned on its head. Just from that broad summation, I believe that the appeal of A Christmas Carol is plain to see. What makes the story so interesting, beyond the setting, characters, premise, and intricately precise language, is Ebenezer Scrooge himself, and the nature of that journey that had such a profound effect on him.
As a quick preamble, I’ve known some people to say that Scrooge was such an irredeemable monster in the beginning, that his repentance seems somewhat insincere, or potentially even self-centered in nature given that famous final vision given to him by the last of the spirits, and while I can see where they’re coming from, the light in which they place the story’s resolution never seemed to sit right with me.
Scrooge, despite being one of the great literary characters, is also one that tends to be quite misunderstood. It’s not an uncommon phenomenon; generally speaking, iconic characters tend to be distilled to their strongest characteristics over time, and some eventually become a caricature in the cultural zeitgeist (“Flanderization” is named for a character who went through just such a phenomenon.)
Given the many, many adaptations – another testament to the popularity and timelessness – people’s impressions on the character may vary, depending on the actor portraying Scrooge and how he depicts this pivotal arc, but let’s forget the specific adaptations for a moment and look at what people generally think when we mention Ebenezer Scrooge. First, every Scrooge is a greedy, callous old miser whose sins are such that divine (0r at least supernatural) intervention is needed to help him become a better man. Second, over the course of the story, he ponders his own human past, present, and future, comes to value humanity more than his money, and repents. And third, he amends his life. This is the necessary arc for every adaptation, and every Scrooge must undergo this shift.
In many ways, Scrooge is an Everyman, for though he is rich and affluent, anyone can be a “Scrooge,” regardless of wealth, or circumstance. You probably know a “Scrooge,” or two yourself, and he or she might not look or act anything like Old Ebenezer, but they will have the same spirit. Any of us have the potential to be as selfish and callous as him, and by the same token, each of us is just as capable of redemption. This is the line of reasoning I wish to pursue, using the book (the purest telling) for reference. I will try to evidence my claim using specific examples to show his through line in the story, and the series of events that led him to reconsider not only what he does and who he is, but what he values.
Stave I – Memento Mori; Remember Your Death
Like many older works, A Christmas Carol is broken down (rather conveniently) into the classic, five-act structure, and the first part is centered around two important characters.
As I said, Scrooge is an often misunderstood character, which is at least partly attributable to the strong initial impression readers get from early characterization. We receive little by way of inner monologue or introspection first. The narration describes him as “hard and sharp as flint,” and “solitary as an oyster,” and perhaps the most specific descriptor, “a squeezing, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!” From this alone, we can form a particular mental image of Ebenezer Scrooge: an archetype that would have been recognizable even back when the book was first published, almost 180 years ago. His demeanor is as cold as his infamously frigid office, and the interactions with other characters confirm the narration. He never goes out of his way to concern himself with the affairs of others, and when engaged, he is rude and dismissive, to his family, strangers, and employees alike. Beyond producing an instant and strong dislike for him, each of these encounters is a set up for a series of subsequent payoffs.
Dickens gives us Scrooge at his worst, but we also see him just as the world sees him. It’s important that he does this, because while Scrooge is an archetype, he is an entirely realistic one, so when we explore the history and thought process that informs Scrooge’s actions, he becomes not just a caricature, but a case study on vice and the worldly mindset of looking out for Number One. We do see some hints of depth to this character even in the First Act (him scoffing at Fred saying he married because he fell in love for instance hints at an untold history), but Scrooge is not a man to be drawn out of his seclusion without a very good reason. Jacob Marley becomes that reason, and his significance begins long before that dreadful scene when the clock strikes 2:00 on Christmas morn.
Though Ebenezer is the most important of the first act’s central characters by a wide margin, he is not even the first mentioned; our attention is foremost drawn to Jacob Marley and the singularly important fact that he is dead. Scrooge is first mentioned when we learn that he was Marley’s sole mourner and that even he was not much broken up about it. This tells us just about all we need to know about who Marley was in life, but we also learn that, in seven years, Scrooge never painted over the name “Scrooge and Marley.” The name of their business made no difference to Scrooge, nor did it matter whether he answered to “Mr. Scrooge,” or “Mr. Marley.” We glean from this that not only was the counting house Marley’s ship as well as Scrooge’s, but that it was run quite the same seven years before as it was the fateful night we are introduced to the Old Moneylender. Scrooge even answers to the name of either party, which is an effective literary shorthand to tell us that, for all intents and purposes, Scrooge is Marley, and Marley is Scrooge.
Marley, is one of the more significant foils for Scrooge, despite the brevity of his life in Act 1. We aren’t given much to infer much of a distinction, but the only real difference we are given seems to be the only one that matters in the plot. Scrooge is still alive, and Marley is dead as a doornail. When Marley’s old ghost tells Scrooge that his partner’s chain was as heavy and as long as his own seven Christmas Eves ago, it confirms that they are indeed, the same essential character under two different circumstances and that they share (if you’ll mind the pun) the same “spirit.” When Scrooge hears this terrible news – that he is the author of his destruction and has labored on his own chain ever since his partner’s death – we see the first instance of his humanity: he is frightened.
Why shouldn’t he be as he stares at this grim messenger who stands as a reflection for what awaits him when he shuffles off his mortal coil? The suggestion of such a thing would be enough to scare anyone, much less when it is given the evidence of the senses. By Marley’s own admission, it was his own choices (and by extension, Scrooge’s as well) that led him to this end. Scrooge finds himself cornered by the ghost, having been forced out of his usual position of power, and his fear turns to desperation. He asks Jacob to speak comfort, though he has none to give. He tells Jacob that in life he was a good man of business (hoping that perhaps, since business turns the gears of the world, Scrooge himself might be absolved for having diligently provided this service) but the ghost tells him that this simply isn’t enough: a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of every living man and woman’s duty the human race.
Here is one of several instances where the writer’s hand is tipped. Dickens loved Christmas, and wrote about it often. He unabashedly loved that it was the time of giving and selflessness, and was one of many voices who echoed that this attitude should be kept up year round. Conversely, few things drew his ire more than the greed and inhumanity towards the impoverished (personified by Scrooge) that was so common in the industrial age and is still relevant today. Just so, Jacob’s purgatory, or perhaps even his hell – chillingly, we are never told which of these punishments he now suffers – is one of recognizing his lost opportunities too late. He is simply one of countless phantoms heard wailing their lamentation, not just for themselves, but for those they are now powerless to help. Marley, like Scrooge, was indeed a pragmatic man in life: a “man of worldly mind” as it were. And Scrooge’s own dialogue tells what sort of attitude that men such as he and Marley had to the world around them.
“Are there no prisons? And the Union Workhouses, are they still in operation? The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then… I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course…”
It’s a cant we’ve heard before. “It’s a dog eat dog world, but I picked myself up by my bootstraps. Why shouldn’t they? And if they can’t, well then then, it will but decrease the surplus population…” Truly a worldly mindset, but the separation of death has already definitively shaken off everything that was of the world from old Jacob Marley. And when the same happens to Ebenezer Scrooge? If he dies while ensnared by the trappings of the world, what then? The ponderous chain he forged for himself in life? Dickens invites us to ponder on this as he closes the First Stave. It is a heavy scene to close on, and demands one examine his or her own mortality. Dickens knew the necessity of this; that sometimes heavy blows are needed to break the hard hearts of old sinners like Scrooge, but fear is only the first step. Being afraid isn’t enough to save himself, as evidenced by Scrooge reverting to calling it a Humbug once Jacob Marley, the object of his fear has, flown away into the night. Fear is transient, and as long as it is the only catalyst for change, Scrooge’s contrition will always be imperfect. Jacob Marley is only the Sybil, and Scrooge must journey to hell and back to truly be cleansed.
Stave II – Out, Out Brief Candle
We last discussed how Scrooge was given a terrifying message from beyond, but that he still tends to revert to his old, comfortable nature. Marley’s warning is effectively the stick (or rather, the first in a series of sticks used to beat some sense into him), with the carrot being the fulfillment found in the milk of human kindness. Scrooge is, as of yet, unaware of its appeal, and to get there, he must first experience it’s converse. In the wake of Jacob’s visit and following a long, dreamless sleep, Scrooge awakes to a profound loneliness. He waits in his room, surrounded by a darkness as deep and silent outside his window as inside his bedchamber, still solitary as an oyster, but not at ease. In this seemingly endless void of blackness, the old man listens for the least little noise, awaiting the toll of the bell signaling the end of the foretold hour, because even this darkness is nothing compared to the dread of the coming of the first spirit. Scrooge retreats, effectively shutting his shell as he pulls the blinds shut. Change means being taken out of your comfort zone, and Marley’s message is an ultimatum that Scrooge isn’t quite ready to accept. If Marley were the only Ghost to visit him, he likely would have dismissed him as a bit of bad beef, blot of mustard or fragment of underdone potato (and then have gone on to face nightmarish suffering after death), but Scrooge’s attempts to shut out the world are once again thwarted by the supernatural, and as the curtains are drawn open once more, he is forced literally and figuratively forced into the light.
I have admired the writings of Socrates since I can’t remember when, and one of his sentiments is rather pertinent here. It’s one of more common phrases of his bandied about by philosophers, old and new alike, that the unexamined life is not worth living. This should scare us to some degree, but thankfully – for us as well as Ebenezer Scrooge – the idea that a life left unexamined would not be worth living is an excellent motivation for self-reflection. Scrooge has not only shut out others but also shut out his past and what might be learned from it. After all, he does not make merry himself on Christmas any more than he helps make idle people merry… His life is, as of yet, unexamined, and The Ghost of Christmas Past is the embodiment of looking inwards, at least in a specific aspect. The elfin features and indefinite age seem to represent the fluid nature of the past, as well as the ongoing march of time, and the motif of the candle is reminiscent of that famous metaphor used by Macbeth to describe the nature of life. “Out, out brief candle, life is but a walking shadow.”
When the Ghost leads Scrooge on these forays into the past, we receive further characterization on who he was and is, and almost immediately, we are shown a different side of Scrooge. This is the truest sense of nostalgia, as the hard old man literally comes home. Just as these visions are but shadows of what has been, our insights into Scrooge’s past are brief and incomplete vignettes on a man’s complicated past, and just as with Marley, we are not told everything, but we learn enough. The reader is left to extrapolate that the course of Scrooge’s life has led him to become the same tyrant which his father was to him. We may also determine that he loved his younger sister, Fan, who he has outlived by many years, and that his nephew exists as a painful living reminder of her for Scrooge. His old master was a positive influence in his formative years, and Old Fezziwig serves as another foil to his older self.
“He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ’em up: what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.” *
The import of each of these visions is not lost on him, and the power of this self-examination leads to perhaps the greatest change in Scrooge’s demeanor of any single chapter. Each successive Ghost brings further development, but Scrooge by the end of the Second Stave is practically unrecognizable when compared to who he was when we met him. Already, he begins to regret his actions of the previous day. It starts as pity for himself, as a boy, abandoned and alone, but this leads him to consider the caroler from the previous day whom he menaced with a ruler. With each subsequent vision, his pity grows into empathy, wishing he might have donated something to the gentlemen, or spoken more gently to his clerk or his nephew. As the blinds are drawn back from his bedposts, so too, we see Scrooge’s willful ignorance begin to fade in the face of his newly-examined life. The Spirit, meanwhile, simply acts as guide, allowing Scrooge to draw these conclusions on his own. What little dialogue given is used to simply prod Scrooge in a manner reminiscent of the Socratic Method. He reminds Scrooge that though his sister has long gone, she has given him the gift of a living family who still loves him, even when all the world has turned on him. He also comments on just how little it cost Fezziwig to make those around him happy (this can be taken two ways). And perhaps most bitterly, the Spirit flatly states that what is done cannot be undone, and that if Scrooge is dissatisfied, there is only one person to blame. When Scrooge is faced with the final two visions – of his old fiancé, Belle, dissolving their engagement, and of what he, Scrooge, might have shared in (the latter of which happens to be the only memory shown in this sequence for which Scrooge is not present) – the message remains clear as stated: “may you be happy in the life you have chosen.”
This proves too much for him, even after we have seen him start to open up, and Scrooge extinguishes the Spirit with its own cap, thereby shutting out the truth. Self-examination can be a frightening thing. When you keep asking questions about yourself, you will inevitably learn things that scare you. As said before, change is almost never a comfortable experience, and we can’t judge Scrooge too harshly in this instance. The truth is something of such enormous magnitude and such frightening import that most of us would not be able to face pure truth without being cowed as he was.
Perhaps then, it is too harsh to say that Scrooge “shuts out the truth.” He cannot fully do so, at any rate, as even after being snuffed, the Spirit’s light continues to shine from about the edges of the extinguisher. We might say that, for now, Scrooge only shuts out the undiluted truth, and from now onwards, he will be conducting himself differently. He carries much with him now, and will definitely remember the sight of the lone boy in the boarding school, of the energetic young girl so full of life, of the party and the fat, jolly faces of Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig. Perhaps better than the first time he saw them. And he will certainly remember the sight of that which he might have, “shared on earth, and turned to happiness.”
Stave III – What to Do with the Time that is Given Us
Like most of us, when I was really young, the Spirit who stood out the most (because he scared me most) was the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. The Towering Phantom, with his unseen face and flowing, amorphous, black cloak intentionally evokes the familiar spirit of Death. However, as the years have gone by, and I have gone over this story more times than I can really remember, my own perspective has shifted, and The Ghost of Christmas Present has become more frightening and more memorable in some ways.
The Third Stave begins with Scrooge once more alone in his bedchamber, but even now, we see a change in how he prepares for the coming of the foretold spirit. Instead of attempting to shut it out (a futile effort, he has learned), he leaves the blinds open in the hopes of not being caught off guard. The solitary oyster is still on his guard, but he has begun to somewhat come out of his shell. It is also worth noting that in this instance, Scrooge comes to the spirit, instead of vice versa, which also shows a significant change in attitude. But he still needs to be beckoned from his bedchamber. This ghost, like the last, evokes much symbolism by his appearance, from his bountiful Horn o’ Plenty and succulent feast which he brings with him, to the empty scabbard on his belt which hasn’t held a sword for quite some time. His visage evokes the image of Father Christmas, and a spirit of peace on earth and good will toward men. He is the jolliest and most loquacious of the spirits, as befits his large figure and personality, however, he has a darker side which reveals itself in time as the visions continue, and just as his predecessor, his conversations, lectures, and prods are all done with a purpose. The Spirit bids Scrooge to look upon him, not avert his eyes, and know him better. This is once more an invitation to see the truth, but a different aspect of the truth, and a renewed opportunity for self-reflection and consideration of others.
Scrooge turned inward when looking at his past, and now, in looking at the present, he must look outward as well. His empathy has deepened to some degree since his last visitor, and he develops an almost immediate attachment to Bob’s son, Tiny Tim (perhaps the vision of his own, miserable younger self and the vision of his lost opportunity for a family are still fresh in his mind). In one of the first examples of real selflessness, Scrooge asks if the child will die. Previously, Scrooge only lamented what he could not change, but now, there is something which he may yet aid in, and he shows concern. Scrooge is still a realist, even with his growing sense of selflessness, and he knows this family stands little chance on its own. Tim needs medical attention and nutrition which the Cratchits cannot afford, and Scrooge himself had no idea. This leads to one of my favorite bits of dialogue, where the Spirit points out to Scrooge that they are merely the “Surplus Population,” so why should it matter?
Scrooge didn’t know when he spoke so callously, but he is left to reflect upon the fact that he should have known (and would have cared even if he had). But it’s in this moment of shame, ironically, when Bob Cratchit toasts him as the founder of the feast (once again, a line that can be taken two ways, given how terribly small the feast is for such a large family). Bob, who has become something of an icon as much as Scrooge (perhaps even because of his proximity to and direct association with the Icon of Scrooge), still shows gratitude for a job despite his own dire straits and despite his wife’s astute observations that he is mistreated by his employer. That is essentially the core of the Bob’s character and Tiny Tim’s as well. The money he brings in is not nearly enough for his small family, and his children must also work to help support them (something which was sadly taken as a matter of course back in those days). But through this family, we see how shared love can hold people together even in the direst situation.
Empathy is not the only aspect of Scrooge’s humanity on display here. On this second journey, now we see him display a new sense of excitement, wonder, and fun. When they later attend Fred’s Christmas Party, Scrooge becomes almost childlike in his joy at witnessing its sumptuous food, music, games, and laughter. When his niece by marriage (who, like Martha Cratchit, defends her husband against the ill-treatment he’s received at the hands of his Uncle), plays the harp, the Old Man himself silently reflects on how much happiness he missed in the many years past. Despite being much richer than the Cratchits, Fred Scrooge is not spoiled by his wealth and reflects his mother in his depth of piety, forgiveness, and generosity. He makes jokes at the expense of his bitter old uncle, but they are never done in a bitter spirit, and Scrooge even takes them in good humor. Beyond foreshadowing his lightheartedness at the conclusion, this scene speaks to the healing and restorative power of fellowship and community when one is open to receive their blessings. Here, Scrooge is himself experiencing what has held the Cratchits together despite their poverty and which he has always lacked despite his wealth.
This on its own would have been enough to leave Scrooge a thoroughly changed man, but Spirits do not do anything by half measures, and as said before, emotions are fleeting. There is still much for Scrooge to learn, and this second Spirit delivers a final gift of wisdom with his last lesson. As his time draws to a close, the Ghost of Christmas Present shows Scrooge an esoteric, spiritual vision beyond simple events as they have occurred, are occurring, or will occur. Before he must leave this world, the Spirit gives Scrooge a glimpse of what may be to come of the children of mankind. Ignorance and Want are and have always been a part of our world, and Dickens calls upon the all too familiar image (at the time) of the street Urchins: children left abandoned and uncared for from the draconian Poor Law and forced to grow up too soon. The Spirit also warns Scrooge to beware, for if these are not righted, they will spell doom for humanity, drawing particular attention to Ignorance, as this was Scrooge’s great problem. At this point, the Old Man has changed enough that he is worried for their welfare, even when it has no bearing on him personally, and he demands if there might be any resource or refuge for these two children, just as he did on behalf of Tiny Tim. By echoing Scrooge’s old words one final time, the Spirit reminds him that not only was his own Ignorance perpetuating their existence, but also that Scrooge has still only just stepped out of his shell, and he must have care not to retreat once more.
“Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?”
It does well to keep in mind, as Scrooge himself must have thought in that moment, that he was not the only one to have held that sentiment. When the Spirit departs this time, the safety net is gone. Scrooge is not left in his safe, warm, secluded bedchamber, but upon the poor streets of London where Ignorance and Want, the children of mankind, still hold sway. The Present has melted away into the Future, and Scrooge can only wait as the shadowy figure of the final spirit approaches.
Stave IV – That Which Flesh is heir to
The final Spirit finds Scrooge more bare and vulnerable than any of the others: a fact made all the clearer when he is faced with the Phantom’s imposing figure. Ebenezer Scrooge never had any defense against any of the Spirits, save for hardening his heart (which he tried against Marley, and again when he attempted to snuff out the light of truth brought by the Ghost of Christmas Past), but now, all pretense is stripped away. He’s alone in the dark and cold; there is no bedchamber, and no blinding curtains to draw back as this Spirit approaches, and he no longer has the power of will to resist. This visually represents Scrooge’s state of mind, but despite his fear, the Spirit’s silence almost invites one to attempt conversation, if for no other reason than to put himself at ease. Scrooge tries, but receives no answer by way of words. Marley’s visit only brought a message of grief and consternation, but he at least spoke to Scrooge. The future is silent, only pointing the way with a bare, spectral hand. Evidently Scrooge has had enough of words with his ghostly visitors, and all that’s left is to follow, witness, and learn. As he is beckoned to the shadowy streets of some Christmas yet to come, his final spoken message remains fresh in his mind, of his own callous dismissal of human misery.
“Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?”
Scrooge has experienced unpleasant visions before, but each has pertained to him, whether by his presence or by the consequences of his own actions. He is nowhere to be found in any of these new visions, and their purpose is a mystery to him, but they are as dreadful as those he saw the night Marley visited him. On the first night, there were thousands of shades suffering in the air all around him, each wearing the chain they forged in life, but The Ghost of the Yet to Come brings him visions of those still living as they make their own chains, link by link and yard by yard. These visions each pertain to the one certainty which the future holds for all (and it isn’t taxes), but no one, whether rich or poor, shows any sympathy for the dead. Scrooge is even familiar with some of the former at the exchange, but their fine dressing and refined demeanor only belies the same hard heartedness seen in the charwoman at old Joe’s.
These scenes admittedly make Scrooge seem a bit dense, considering he does not figure out who was the man they were all speaking of until the last, even after witnessing the charwoman displaying his belongings and seeing the silhouette of his own form beneath the sheets, but like much of the story, this is likely symbolic. He still is not thinking of his death, as Marley warned him, and his obliviousness is the last bit of ignorance, willful or not, that must be stripped away before his heart can change for good. Before that, however, he bears witness the consequences of his actions will be, or may be if he does not alter the course (and those consequences will not only be to himself). Scrooge demands some tenderness to be found in the face of death, but the unknown miser has no mourners at either the fence or the exchange (both places where money changes hands), and the only ones who are pleased are those who will be released from their debt for a short while. Tenderness can only be found when the silent ghost confirms the prophecy of Christmas Present; a shadow lies over the Cratchits’ home, and there is a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. This is the heaviest blow Scrooge has faced so far, but it only precedes the final blow. When the Cratchits’ home melts into the churchyard, and they approach the solemn gravestone, Scrooge one last time with the taciturn spirit, asking the most important question.
“Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?”
He never receives an answer, no matter how he phrases it, until Scrooge reads the solemn writing on the stone. As Scrooge weeps over his grave, not just for himself, but because he now recognizes in life what Jacob said about the loss of opportunity and ability to help others, the Spirit stays silent, but waivers for just a moment in body language (if you can really say a ghost has body language). This is an important scene, however, to convey that the Spirits are demonstrating tough love. The fourth stave comes to an end on this last grim scene, but the night is only bearable because we know that the day is coming, and just so, this final spirit might haunt us forever, to use Scrooge’s own words, were it not that we know these terrible visions were all for his own welfare. Much like Dante and other such spiritual travelers, the adversity brought by his journey is exactly what shapes and reforms Scrooge into a new man. Only once he has completed this process – only after turning inwards to reflect on who he is, outwards to reflect on the lives and needs of others, and to finally measure his own life with what it will or won’t amount to–can the long night finally end, and Scrooge awaken on Christmas morning.
Stave V – Our Actions in this Life echo through Eternity
Scrooge awakens as from a nightmare, to the immense comfort and relief that comes with the bright morning, and we now come to one of the more iconic portions of the story. This new Scrooge we’ve come to know over the course of his travels, finally returns to the world of the living, and the contrast is as noticeable to the readers as it is to the characters in the story. Scrooge laughs and sings, goes to church, and even takes time to reconcile each of the parties from his introduction. These are his first human interactions since Act I and the change might even seem shocking to us, despite having witnessed his journey. It is important to remember that the change of heart was not just from seeing the suffering born of the human condition. Scrooge was always aware, from his younger days, that there is nothing the world is harder on than poverty, but there’s a difference between knowing and experiencing this disparity. Scrooge’s solution was the pursuit of wealth, not for its own sake, but as a shield from the world. As Belle said, he did fear the world too much. On his travels, Scrooge has found a new way, by how much people’s love for one another fought so hard to overcome their poverty and how it held them together. Sadly, love alone will not save Tiny Tim and all too many men, women, and children like him. Human suffering can only be alleviated when those who have the power to help open their hearts. A Christmas Carol never shied away from these hard truths of the world – they are the focal point – but nor does it downplay the value of brotherhood and the potential for redemption. In the case of Ebenezer Scrooge, the empathy he developed for shadows of the past, present and future endures when he is finally given his chance to put it into practice.
There’s a certain appeal to Scrooge’s character despite his hardness. While not the most important, he had a sense of humor from the beginning, though grim and callous at first, which he retains throughout the story (especially noticeable during his unseen visit to his nephew’s party). Readers will remember his infamous line about merrymakers being boiled in their own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart (a cruel, but undeniably funny mental image) or his dismissive wordplay to the Ghost of Marley. As the story goes on, as Scrooge becomes softer and softer, his humor too becomes more and more prominent until it is no longer callous, but warm and jovial. Significantly, his final prank on Bob Cratchit holds great significance as he dons the manner and appearance of his old self for just a moment. But this is nothing but an act; an act which, we may note, he sheds easily and readily. The old Scrooge is well and truly gone now, and he feels no temptation to go back to his old ways; rather rejoicing in the joy he helps to give others. People generally enjoy a redemption story, and I believe Dickens made Scrooge an old man, not just to conform to the miserly archetype, but also because it’s powerful to note that even with many wasted years, he still has the capacity to change. One of the few of Dickens’ narrations which makes it into most film and stage adaptations is that it was said of Scrooge that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if anyone alive possessed the knowledge, and may that be said of all of us. I can think of no better sentiment on which to end this essay. I pray that we may too take to heart the lessons imparted by the Ghosts of Christmas as agents of the Almighty and of the best there is of humanity. May we always be compassionate and aware of the needs of others, though their sufferings and struggles may not be known to us. May we give what we have with a free and ready hand, and may we retain this spirit the whole year round, as Ebenezer Scrooge did. I sincerely wish each of you a very Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a Happy New Year. Thank you.