Old Scrooge: A Christmas Carol in Five Staves.

Scro. Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob?

Gho. It is.

Scro. I – I think I'd rather not.

Gho. Without their visits you can not hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first to-morrow, when the bell tolls one.

Scro. Couldn't I take'em all at once, and have it over, Jacob?

Gho. Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third on the night following, when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us. [Ghost replaces bandage around jaws, rises, winds chain about his arm, walks backward to window, beckoning Scrooge, who rises and follows. As soon as Ghost walks through window, which opens for him, he motions for Scrooge to stop, and disappears through trap. Window closes as before.]

CURTAIN

STAVE TWO

SCENE I. —Scrooge's bed room. A small, four-post bedstead with curtains at L. E., bureau R. E. Bell tolls twelve. Scrooge pulls curtains aside and sits on side of bed. Touches spring of his repeater, which also strikes twelve.

Scro. Way, it isn't possible that I can have slept through a whole day, and far into another night. It isn't possible that anything has happened to the sun, and this is twelve o'clock at noon.

(The Spirit of Christmas Past rises from the hearth as Scrooge finishes his Speech.)

Scro. Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?

Spirit. I am.

Scro. Who, and what are you?

Spir. I am the ghost of Christmas Past.

Scro. Long past?

Spir. No; your past.

Scro. I beg you will be covered.

Spir. What! 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?

Scro. I have no intention of offending you. May I make bold to enquire what business has brought you here?

Spir. Your welfare.

Scro. I am much obliged, but I think a night of unbroken rest would be more conducive to that end.

Spir. Your reclamation, then. Take heed! observe the shadows of the past, and profit by the recollection of them.

Scro. What would you have me do?

Spir. Remain where you are, while memory recalls the past.

SCENE II. —The spirit waves a wand, the scene opens and displays a dilapidated school-room. Young Scrooge discovered seated at a window, reading.

Scro. (Trembling) Good heavens! I was a boy! It's the old school; and its the Christmas I was left alone.

Spir. You remember it?

Scro. Yes, yes; I know! I was reading all about Ali Baba. Dear old honest Ali Baba. And Valentine and his wild brother, Orson; and the Sultan's groom turned upside down by the Geni. Served him right, I'm glad of it; what business had he to be married to the Princess! [In an earnest and excited manner, and voice between, laughing and crying.] There's the parrot: 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, where have you been, Robin Crusoe? There goes Friday, running for his life to the little Creek. Halloo! Hoop! Halloo! [Changing to a pitiful tone, in allusion to his former self.] Poor boy.

Spir. Strange to have forgotten this for so many years.

Scro. (Putting his hand in his pocket and drying his eyes on his cuff) I wish – but it's too late now.

Spir. What is the matter?

Scro. Nothing; 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.

[Young Scrooge rises and walks up and down. Door opens and Fanny Scrooge darts in and puts her arms about his neck and kisses him.]

Fanny. Dear, dear brother! I have come to bring you home, dear brother. (Clapping her hands and laughing gleefully.) To bring you home, home, home!

Young S. Home, little Fan?

Fan. Yes! Home for good, and all. Home for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that home is like Heaven. He spoke so gently to me one 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, and never to come back here; but first we're to be together all the Christmas long, and have the merriest time in all the world.

Young S. You're quite a woman, little Fan! [She claps her hands and laughs, tries to touch his head, but being too little, laughs again. Stands on tip-toe to embrace him, and in childish eagerness and glee, drags him willingly towards the door. Exeunt.]

Voice [outside]. Bring down Master Scrooge's box, there.

[Scene Closes]

Spir. Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered. But she had a large heart.

Scro. So she had. You're right. I will not gainsay it, Spirit. Lord forbid.

Spir. She died a woman, and had, as I think, children.

Scro. One child.

Spir. True; your nephew.

Scro. [uneasily] Yes.

Spir. Let us see another Christmas. (Waves wand.)

SCENE III. —Fezziwig's Ball, full depth of stage, representing a wareroom. Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig L., the former standing and clapping his hands, and the latter seated in an arm-chair, manifesting delight. Old bald-headed fiddler, on an elevated seat, at the back. Dick Wilkins, with two Miss Fezziwigs, forward to right and back. Scrooge's former self advances and retires to the partners, with fancy steps: hands around; right and left; ladies change; balance; promenade. Other characters to fill up the picture. Laughter and merriment to follow Scrooge's speech.

Spir. Do you know it?

Scro. Know it! I was apprenticed here. Why, its old Fezziwig. Bless his heart; its Fezziwig alive again, and Mrs Fezziwig, too. Dick Wilkins, to be sure, with Fezziwig's two daughters. Bless me, yes. There he is. He was very much attached to me, was Dick. Poor Dick. And see me, cutting the pigeon-wing. Dear, dear, dear!

(Dance comes to an end amid general hilarity and merriment, and the scene closes in.)

Spir. A small matter to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.

Scro. Small! Why, old Fezziwig was one of the best men that ever lived. He never missed giving his employees a Christmas ball.

Spir. Why, is it not! He spent but a few pounds of money – three or four pounds, perhaps – . Is that so much that he deserves your praise?

Scro. It isn't that, Spirit. He had the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our services light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lives in words and looks; in things so light and unsignificant that it is impossible to add and count 'em up; what then? The happiness he gives is quite as great if it cost a fortune – oh, dear.

Spir. What is the matter?

Scro. Nothing, particular.

Spir. Something, I think.

Scro. No, no. I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk, just now, that's all.

Spir. My time grows short, let us hurry on. Do you remember this? (Waves wand.)

SCENE IV. —A room. Enter Belle and Scrooge's former self, at twenty-five years of age.

Scro. It is Belle, as sure as I am a living sinner.

Belle. It matters little to you. To you very little. Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve.

Young S. What idol has displaced you?

Belle. A golden one.

Young S. This is the even-handed dealing of the world. There is nothing on which it is so hard as poverty; and there is nothing it professes to condemn with such severity, as the pursuit of wealth.

Belle. You fear the world too much. All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until the master passion gain, engrosses you. Have I not?

Young S. What then? Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I am not changed toward you, (She shakes her head.) Am I?

Belle. Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and content to be so, until in good season, we could improve our worldly fortune by our patient industry. You are changed. When it was made you were another man.

Young S. I was a boy.

Belle. Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are. I am. That which promised happiness when we were one in heart is fraught with misery now that we are two. How often and how keenly I have thought of this, I will not say. It is enough that I have thought of it, and can release you.

Young S. Have I ever sought release?

Belle. In words; no, never.

Young S. In what, then?

Belle. In a changed nature; in an altered spirit; in another atmosphere of life; another hope as to its great end. In everything 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!

Young S. You think not?

Belle. I would gladly think otherwise, if I could; Heaven knows. When I have learned a truth like this, I know how strong and irresistible it must be. But if you were free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believe that you would choose a dowerless girl – you, who, in your very confidence with her, weigh everything by gain; or choosing her, if for a moment you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do so, do I not know that 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. (He is about to speak, but with her head turned from him she resumes.) You may – the memory of what is past half makes me hope you will – have pain in this. A very, very brief time, and you will dismiss the recollection of it, gladly, as an unprofitable dream, from which it happened well that you awoke. May you be happy in the life you have chosen. Fare well. [Exit.]

Young S. (Following) Belle, Belle! Hear me. Let me explain. [Exit.]

[Scene Closes.]

Scro. Spirit, show me no more! Conduct me home. Why do you delight to torture me?

Spir. O, mortal, what a treasure didst thou cast away. She, whom you resigned for paltry gold, became the happy wife of your former schoolmate, Kemper. One shadow more. Behold now the tender mother of smiling children, in their joyous home – a home that might have been your own.

Scro. No more! no more! I don't wish to see it.

Spir. Behold. (Waves Wand.)

SCENE V. —Drawing room. Six or eight children, of various sizes, in groups, playing with toys. A Christmas tree, trimmed and lighted. Mr. and Mrs. Kemper seated at table; their daughter Belle seated at fire, dressing a doll for one of the girls.

Mr. K. Belle, I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon.

Mrs. K. Who was it?

Mr. K. Guess?

Mrs. K. How can I? Tut, don't I know (laughingly), Mr. Scrooge?

Mr. K. Mr. Scrooge it was – your old sweetheart (laughing). I passed his office window, and as it was not shut up, and he had a candle inside, I could scarcely help seeing him. His partner, old Jacob Marley, lies upon the point of death, I hear. And there he sat, alone. Quite alone in the world, I do believe.

Mrs. K. Poor old man.

[Scene Closes.]

Scro. Spirit (in a broken voice), remove me from this place.

Spir. I told you these were shadows of the things that have been. That they are what they are, do not blame me.

Scro. I am to blame for what they are, and now that I see what they might have been, I am more wretched than ever. Remove me! I can not bear it. (Turns upon the spirit, and struggles with it.) Leave me! Take me back! Haunt me no longer! (Seizes the extinguisher-cap, presses it down, while spirit sinks through trap, and disappears. When trap is replaced, Scrooge reels to the bedstead, apparently exhausted, and with the cap grasped in his hand, falls asleep.)

CURTAIN

STAVE THREE

SCENE I. —Adjoining room in Scrooge's house. Flat to represent piles of turkeys, geese, game, poultry, joints of meat, sucking-pigs, strings of sausages, oysters, mince pies, plum-puddings, pears, apples, oranges, cakes and bowls of punch; also holly, mistletoe and ivy.

The Spirit of Christmas Present R. [a giant], discovered holding a glowing torch – shaped like a cornucopia, to shed its light on Scrooge's entrance.

Spir. Come in!

Enter Scrooge, timidly, L

Spir. Come in, and know me better, man. You have never seen the like of me before.

Scro. Never.

Spir. Have never walked forthwith the younger members of my family, meaning – for I am very young – my elder brothers, born in these later years?

Scro. I don't think I have. I am afraid I have not. Have you had many brothers, Spirit?

Spir. More than eighteen hundred.

Scro. A tremendous family to provide for. Spirit, conduct me where you will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learned a lesson which is working now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it.

Spir. Touch my robe, and remember that we are invisible, and unable to manifest our presence to those with whom we come in contact. Loose not your hold, lest you should lose yourself. [Exeunt L.]

SCENE II. —Bob Cratchit's home. Mrs. Cratchit discovered laying cloth. Belinda assisting her. Master Peter Cratchit blowing the fire.

Mrs. C. What has ever got your precious father, then? And your brother, Tiny Tim! And Martha warn't as late last Christmas Day by half an hour?

Enter Little Cratchit and Martha. Door in flat.

Little C. Here's Martha, mother! Here's Martha Hurrah! Oh, Martha, there's such a big goose at the bakers, next door. I smelt it cooking.

Mrs. C. Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are! (Kissing her and taking off her bonnet and shawl.)

Martha. We'd a deal of work to finish up last night, and had to clear away this morning, mother.

Mrs. C. Well, never mind, so long as you are come. Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye.

Little C. No, no! There's father coming. Hide, Martha, hide. (Martha gets behind the door.)

Enter Bob Cratchit with Tiny Tim on his shoulder and little crutch in his hand. Spirit and Scrooge following, coming down front, and observing with interest all that passes

Bob. Why, where's our Martha? (Looking around and putting Tiny Tim down.)

Little C. Come, Tiny Tim, and see the pudding boil. [Exeunt children.]

Mrs. C. Not coming.

Bob. Not coming! not coming, on Christmas Day?

Mar. (Running into his arms.) Dear father! I could not see you disappointed, if it were only in joke.

Bob. (Embraces her.) You're a good girl, Martha, and a great comfort to us all. (Commences to mix a bowl of punch.)

Mrs. C. And how did little Tim behave?

Bob. As good as gold, and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men see. Tiny Tim is growing strong and hearty.

Enter Little Cratchit and Peter Cratchit with the goose, followed by Tiny Tim

Little C. Hurrah! Hurrah! Here's Peter with the big goose.

Tiny Tim. Hurrah!

(Children place chairs around the table; Bob puts Tiny Tim in a high chair beside him, and Peter on his left, facing front, Belinda and Little Cratchit opposite. Mrs. C. and Martha at the end of the table. Bob carves and serves the goose, Mrs. C. the gravy and mashed potatoes, and Martha the apple-sauce.)

Little C. Oh! oh! Look at the stuffing.

Tiny T. Hurrah!

Bob. I don't believe there ever was such a goose as this cooked. It's more tender than a woman's love, and only cost two and sixpence. A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us.

All. God bless us.

Tiny T. God bless us every one.

Scro. Spirit, tell me if Tiny Tim will live?

Spir. I see a vacant seat in the poor chimney-corner and a crutch without an owner carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, none other of my race will find him here. What then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.

Scro. (Hangs his head.) My very words.

Spir. Man – if man you be in heart, not adamant – forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered what the surplus is, and where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die. It may be, in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh, Heaven! to hear the insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers of the dust!

Mrs. C. Now, Martha and Belinda, change the plates, while I bring the nuts, apples and oranges.

Bob. (Rising and placing the punch-bowl on the table.) Here is what will remind us it is Christmas. (Fills three tumblers and custard-cup without a handle, and passes them to Mrs. C., Peter and Martha.) I'll give you Mr. Scrooge, the founder of the feast.

Mrs. C. The founder of the feast, indeed! I wish I had him here, I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite for it.

Bob. My dear, the children! Christmas Day.

Mrs. C. It should be Christmas Day, I am sure, on which one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr. Scrooge. You know he is, Robert. Nobody knows it better than you, poor fellow.

Bob. My dear. Christmas Day.

Mrs. C. I'll drink his health for your sake and the day's, not for his. Long life to him. A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! He'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt.

All. A Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

Scro. Spirit, take me away. I see the very mention of my name casts a gloom on what, were it not for me, would be a very happy party.

Spir. Wait; they will soon put the memory of you aside, and will be ten times merrier than before, and Tiny Tim will sing.

Scro. No, no; take me hence.

(As they retire toward the door, the spirit shakes his torch toward the party, which restores good humor.)

Little C. Oh! we forgot the pudding!

All. The pudding! the pudding! (Laughter and confusion.)

SCENE III. —A street. Mansion with lighted window, showing shadow of a group. Sounds of music inside.

Enter Spirit and Scrooge L. A lamp-lighter with torch and ladder R; as he passes them, the spirit waves his torch, and the lamp-lighter exits singing a carol. Enter two men, quarreling.

First Man. But, I know better, it is not so.

Second Man. It is so, and I will not submit to contradiction.

(Spirit waves his torch over them.)

First Man. Well, I declare, here we are, old friends, quarreling on Christmas Day. It is a shame to quarrel on Christmas Day.

Second Man. So it is a shame to quarrel on this day. God love it, so it is; come, and if we are not merry for the rest of it, it shall not be my fault. [Exeunt.]

Scro. Spirit, is there a peculiar flavor in what you sprinkle from your torch?

Spir. There is. My own.

Scro. I notice that you sprinkle it to restore good humor, and over dinners. Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?

Spir. To any kindly given. To a poor one most.

Scro. Why to a poor one most?

Spir. Because it needs it most.

Enter Ignorance and Want; approaching the Spirit, they kneel at his feet. Scrooge starts back appalled

Spir. Look here! oh, man, look here! Look! look down here. Behold, where graceful youth should have filled their features out and touched them with its freshest tints; a stale and shriveled hand, like that of age, has pinched and twisted them and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurk and glare out, menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.

Scro. They are fine-looking children. Spirit, are they yours?

Spir. They are man's. And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance, this girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree; but most of all, beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it, great city. Slander those who tell it ye. Admit it for your factious purposes, make it worse, and abide the end.

Scro. Have they no refuge or resource?

Spir. Are there no prisons? Are there no work-houses?

Scro. My very words, again.

Spir. Begone! hideous, wretched creatures, your habitation should not be in a Christian land. (Ignorance and Want slouch off.) Let us proceed, time is passing, and my life is hastening to an end.

Scro. Are spirit's lives so short?

Spir. My life on this globe is very brief. It ends to-night.

Scro. To-night?

Spir. To-night, at midnight. (Exeunt.)

SCENE IV —Drawing room. Mr. and Mrs. Fred Merry, Miss Julia Kemper, Miss Sarah Kemper, Mr. Thomas Topper, Mr. Henry Snapper, discovered seated around the dessert table. Servant serving coffee.

All. (Laughing) Ha, ha! ha, ha, ha, ha!

Enter Spirit and Scrooge, L

Fred. He said Christmas was a humbug, as I live.

All. Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Fred. He believed it, too.

Mrs. M. More shame for him, Fred!

Fred. He's a comical old fellow, that's the truth; and not so pleasant as he might be; however, his offenses carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him.

Mrs. M. I'm sure he's very rich, Fred. At least you always tell me so.

Fred. What of that, my dear. His wealth is of no use to him. He don't do any good with it. He don't make himself comfortable with it. He hasn't the satisfaction of thinking – ha, ha, ha, ha! – that he is ever going to benefit us with it.

Mrs. M. I have no patience with him.

Julia. Neither have I for such a stingy old wretch!

Fred. Oh, I have. I am sorry for him; I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill whims? Himself, always. Here he takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won't come and dine with us. What's the consequence? He don't lose much of a dinner.

Mrs. M. Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner.

Sarah. A much better one than he could have served up in his old dingy chambers.