A Christmas Carol
INT. THE STUDY - NIGHT
Huge gold lettering on the binding of a book. Quite unexpectedly, it reads:
GREAT EXPECTATIONS
Beside it on a shelf are other books: OLIVER TWIST, DAVID COPPERFIELD, and,
of course, A CHRISTMAS CAROL. A small hand reaches for this last and pulls
it off the shelf. A sober-faced, young GIRL, maybe ten years old, clutches
the book to her bosom and intently carries it out of the room and into:
INT. THE SITTING-ROOM
A cheerily-lit sitting-room in London, England, one Christmas Eve in the
1860s. The girl carries the book to a corner of the room where a man sits
before a large picture window revealing a snow covered street under a night
sky. Handsome, in his late twenties, with a pleasant voice, obviously a
favorite uncle -- he is surrounded by a noisy circle of children and young
adults. He is to be the NARRATOR of the story. They are pestering him for
something and he is waving them off.
NARRATOR
I don't know why you should want to hear
this story again. You must have heard it
a dozen times by now.
THE SKEPTICAL ADOLESCENT
A hundred.
THE ADOLESCENT WHO
WISHED HE WAS AN ADULT
A thousand. But it's good for a laugh.
THE SKEPTICAL ADOLESCENT
And it's your story as much as it is
anyone's. Isn't it?
NARRATOR
(genuine modesty)
Maybe it is. But I'm not sure I'm
necessarily the right one to tell it.
THE SKEPTICAL ADOLESCENT
Aw, that's not true. Grandmother says
you're the only one who knows how to tell
it right.
The others, particularly the younger children, murmur agreement. The ten year
old girl presses through the little crowd with the book in her hand.
THE TEN YEAR OLD GIRL
Please. We want to hear it from you.
She hands the Narrator the book. He smiles at it and sets it in his lap
unopened as the ten year old girl sits at his feet. Slowly, some of the
others begin to sit down too.
NARRATOR
(off the book)
Oh, now, you know, I don't really need this.
The Narrator, staring at the book, is suddenly lost in thought and talks as
much to himself as to the others.
NARRATOR
I've been telling this story every Christmas
now for oh, I don't know how many years.
Since I was a boy. And I know it by heart.
It always begins the same way.
A pause.
THE TEN YEAR OLD GIRL
(very quietly)
How does it begin?
The Narrator abruptly looks up. Everyone is now seated. They stare at him
expectantly. And without any warning, he begins.
NARRATOR
Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
This must be distinctly understood or
nothing wonderful can come of the story
I am going to relate. So, remember, Old
Marley was as dead as a door-nail. The
registrar of his burial was signed by
Ebenezer Scrooge. And Scrooge's name was
good on the London Exchange for anything
he chose to put his hand to.
As he speaks, the view of the street through the window behind him blurs and
resolves itself into a view of the London Exchange.
INT. THE LONDON EXCHANGE - DAY
Late afternoon on Christmas Eve, in the year 1843. The Exchange is packed
with well-dressed businessmen who hurry up and down, and chink the money in
their pockets, and converse in groups, and look at their watches, and trifle
thoughtfully with their great gold seals; and so forth. Among their number
is a FAT MAN WITH A MONSTROUS CHIN who chats with a RED-FACED MAN WITH A
PENDULOUS EXCRESCENCE. Also present is a man with a sharp and bitter face
-- and as bald as Patrick Stewart, give or take a hair. This is EBENEZER
SCROOGE. Scrooge is bundling up his coat and heading for the exit when the
fat man makes eye contact with him.
FAT MAN WITH A MONSTROUS CHIN
Ah, Mister Scrooge...
SCROOGE
Your servant, sir.
FAT MAN WITH A MONSTROUS CHIN
Are you off home to keep Christmas?
SCROOGE
I am not in the habit of keeping Christmas,
sir.
RED-FACED MAN WITH A
PENDULOUS EXCRESCENCE
Then why are you leaving so early?
SCROOGE
Christmas has a habit of keeping men from
doing business.
RED-FACED MAN WITH A
PENDULOUS EXCRESCENCE
Come, it's in the nature of things that ants
toil and grasshoppers sing and play, Mister
Scrooge.
SCROOGE
An ant is what it is and a grasshopper is what
it is and Christmas, sir, is a humbug. Good
day.
The two men laugh at Scrooge as he exits the Exchange.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. THE LONDON EXCHANGE
Moments later, on the massive stone steps just outside the Exchange, a
shivering, POORLY-DRESSED MAN sees Scrooge walking toward him. Scrooge pays
him no heed and walks past. The man follows and clutches at Scrooge's
sleeve. The two men descend the steps together.
POORLY-DRESSED MAN
Mister Scrooge, sir.
SCROOGE
Who are you?
POORLY-DRESSED MAN
Samuel Wilson, sir.
SCROOGE
Oh, yes. You owe me a little matter of
twenty-odd pounds, I believe. Well, if you
want to pay it, come to my place of business.
I don't conduct my affairs in the teeth of
inclement weather.
POORLY-DRESSED MAN
I-I can't pay you, sir.
SCROOGE
I'm not surprised.
POORLY-DRESSED MAN
Not unless you give me more time.
SCROOGE
Did I ask you for more time to lend you
the money?
POORLY-DRESSED MAN
Oh, no, sir.
SCROOGE
Then why should you ask for more time to
pay it back?
POORLY-DRESSED MAN
I can't take my wife to a debtors' prison.
SCROOGE
Then leave her behind. Why should she go
to a debtors' prison anyway? She didn't
borrow the twenty pounds. You did. What
has your wife got to do with it? For that
matter, what have I got to do with it? Good
afternoon.
Scrooge tries to walk off but the man clutches at his sleeve.
POORLY-DRESSED MAN
But, Mister Scrooge. It's Christmas!
Scrooge shakes the man off.
SCROOGE
Christmas has even less to do with it, my
dear sir, than your wife has or I have.
You'd still owe me twenty pounds that
you're not in the position to repay if it
was the middle of a heat wave on August
Bank holiday. Good afternoon.
Scrooge stalks away as the stunned man stands and stares at him.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. A LONDON STREET
Outside Scrooge's counting-house. Cold, bleak, biting weather. People in
the street go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts,
and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The city
clocks strike three, but it's quite dark already. Candles flare in the
windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable
brown air. The fog comes pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and is so
dense that although the street is narrow, the houses opposite are mere
phantoms. The sign above the counting-house door reads:
SCROOGE & MARLEY
A tall man -- whom we will come to know as Scrooge's nephew, FRED -- rapidly
walks up to the door, opens it, and enters.
INT. COUNTING-HOUSE
Scrooge's clerk, BOB CRATCHIT, sits in a dismal little cell, a sort of tank,
copying letters. There's a very small fire, so small that it looks like
there's only one lump of coal. The clerk puts on his white comforter, trying
-- and failing -- to warm himself at the candle. Fred appears, all in a glow;
his face ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkle, and his breath smokes in the
cold. He grins at Bob Cratchit who raises an eyebrow, surprised to see him.
Fred crosses to the doorway of an adjacent office in which someone sits,
hunched over a desk, busily writing.
FRED
A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!
The person at the desk spins around, glaring at the intruder. It's Scrooge.
SCROOGE
Bah! Humbug!
FRED
Christmas a humbug, uncle? You don't mean
that, I am sure.
SCROOGE
I do. Merry Christmas! What right have you
to be merry? What reason have you to be
merry? You're poor enough.
FRED
Come, then. What right have you to be
dismal? What reason have you to be morose?
You're rich enough.
Scrooge has no better answer ready.
SCROOGE
Bah! Humbug.
FRED
Don't be cross, uncle.
Fred enters the office and crosses to a gothic window in the wall from which
is visible the ancient tower of a church.
SCROOGE
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, but not an hour richer; a time for
balancing your books and having every item
in 'em through a round dozen of months
presented dead against you?
(beat)
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!
FRED
Uncle!
SCROOGE
Nephew!
(beat)
Keep Christmas in your own way, and let me
keep it in mine.
FRED
Keep it! But you don't keep it.
SCROOGE
Let me leave it alone, then. Much good may
it do you! Much good it has ever done you!
FRED
(casually)
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
-- apart from the veneration due to its
sacred name and origin, if anything
belonging to it can be apart from that --
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 never 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, God
bless it!
Bob Cratchit, still in the tank, involuntarily applauds. Becoming immediately
sensible of the impropriety, he quickly pokes the fire, and extinguishes the
last frail spark.
SCROOGE
(to Bob Cratchit)
Let me hear another sound from you and
you'll keep your Christmas by losing your
job.
(to his nephew)
You're quite a powerful speaker, sir. I
wonder you don't go into Parliament.
FRED
Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with
us to-morrow.
(a long pause)
Will you come see us?
SCROOGE
Oh, I'll see you all right... I'll see
you in hell.
FRED
(astonished)
But why? Why?
SCROOGE
Why did you get married?
FRED
(confused)
Because I fell in love.
Scrooge looks at him as if falling in love was the only thing in the world
more ridiculous than a merry Christmas.
SCROOGE
Because you fell in love! Good afternoon!
FRED
Uncle, you never came to see me before that
happened. Why give it as a reason for not
coming now?
SCROOGE
Good afternoon.
FRED
I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of
you; why can't we be friends?
SCROOGE
Good afternoon.
FRED
I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you
so resolute. We have never had any quarrel,
to which I have been a party. But I have made
the trial in homage to Christmas, and I'll
keep my Christmas humour to the last. So a
Merry Christmas, uncle!
SCROOGE
Good afternoon.
FRED
And a Happy New Year!
SCROOGE
Good afternoon.
Fred leaves the room with a wry grin. On his way out the front door and
buttoning his coat, he exchanges greetings with Bob Cratchit.
FRED
How is Mrs Cratchit and all the small,
assorted Cratchits?
BOB CRATCHIT
Very good, sir.
FRED
All champing at the bit waiting for
Christmas to begin, eh?
BOB CRATCHIT
Oh, yes, sir. All very eager.
FRED
And the little lame boy. Which one is he?
Tim?
BOB CRATCHIT
Tim, sir.
FRED
That's right. How is he?
BOB CRATCHIT
We're in high hopes he's getting better, sir.
FRED
Good. A merry Christmas to you.
BOB CRATCHIT
Same to you, sir, I'm sure.
FRED
Thank you.
Bob Cratchit watches Fred exit, then glances at Scrooge's office, surprised
to find Scrooge glaring at him.
SCROOGE
And you! Fifteen shillings a week, and a
wife and family, talking about a merry
Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam.
Bob Cratchit watches Scrooge shake his head and return to his desk.
INT. COUNTING-HOUSE
Not long after, TWO PORTLY GENTLEMEN, pleasant to behold, stand, with their
hats off, in Scrooge's office. They hold books and papers in their hands,
and bow to him. The 1st Gentleman glances at a list.
1ST GENTLEMAN
Scrooge and Marley's, I believe.
(cheerfully)
Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr
Scrooge, or Mr Marley?
SCROOGE
(melodramatically)
Mr Marley has been dead these seven years.
He died seven years ago, this very night.
The two gentlemen exchange glances while Scrooge grins malevolently at them.
The first gentleman hands his credentials to Scrooge.
1ST GENTLEMAN
(to Scrooge)
We have no doubt his liberality is well
represented by his surviving partner.
At the ominous word "liberality", Scrooge frowns, shakes his head, and hands
the credentials back. The 2nd Gentleman takes pen in hand.
2ND GENTLEMAN
At this festive season of the year, Mr
Scrooge, it is more than usually desirable
that we should make some slight provision
for the Poor and destitute, who suffer greatly
at the present time. Many thousands are in
want of common necessities; hundreds of
thousands are in want of common comforts,
sir.
SCROOGE
Are there no prisons?
The gentleman lays down his pen.
2ND GENTLEMAN
Plenty of prisons.
SCROOGE
And the Union workhouses? Are they still
in operation?
1ST GENTLEMAN
They are. Still. I wish I could say they
were not.
SCROOGE
The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full
vigour, then?
1ST GENTLEMAN
Both very busy, sir.
SCROOGE
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.
1ST GENTLEMAN
Under the impression that they scarcely
furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to
the multitude, a few of us are attempting to
raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and
drink, and means of warmth. What shall I
put you down for?
SCROOGE
Nothing!
1ST GENTLEMAN
You wish to be anonymous?
SCROOGE
I wish to be left alone. Since you ask me
what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer.
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
mentioned: they cost enough: and those who
are badly off must go there.
1ST GENTLEMAN
Many can't go there; and many would rather
die.
SCROOGE
If they would rather die, they had better
do it, and decrease the surplus population.
Besides -- excuse me -- I don't know that.
1ST GENTLEMAN
But you might know it.
SCROOGE
It's not my business. It's enough for a
man to understand his own business, and not
to interfere with other people's. Mine
occupies me constantly. Good afternoon,
gentlemen!
Scrooge returns to his paperwork as the gentlemen exchange astonished looks.
EXT. STREETS OF LONDON - NIGHT
The fog and darkness have thickened. People run about with flaring torches,
proffering their services to go before horses in carriages, and conduct them
on their way. At the corner, some labourers repair gas-pipes, and have
lighted a great fire in an iron basket, round which a party of ragged men
and boys gather: warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze
in rapture. The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowings have
sullenly congealed, and turned into misanthropic ice. The brightness of the
shops where holly sprigs and berries crackle in the lamp-heat of the windows,
make pale faces ruddy as they pass. A lean woman emerges from the butchers'
with a package of meat.
EXT. COUNTING-HOUSE
A small BOY nervously approaches Scrooge's window to regale him with a
Christmas carol: but at the first sound of "God bless you, merry gentleman!
May nothing you dismay!" Scrooge seizes a ruler with such energy of action
that the singer flees in terror.
INT. COUNTING-HOUSE
The moment the boy has fled, Scrooge's threatening countenance relaxes and
he grins, rather pleased with himself.
Scrooge glances at the church tower, nearly invisible in the fog, as its
clock STRIKES the hour, with tremulous vibrations afterwards as if its teeth
were chattering in its frozen head. Time to shut up the counting-house.
With an ill-will, Scrooge dismounts from his stool, and nods to Bob Cratchit,
who instantly snuffs his candle out, and puts on his hat.
SCROOGE
You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?
BOB CRATCHIT
If quite convenient, Sir.
SCROOGE
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?
Bob Cratchit smiles faintly.
SCROOGE
And yet, you don't think me ill-used,
when I pay a day's wages for no work.
BOB CRATCHIT
It's only once a year, Mr Scrooge.
SCROOGE
A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket
every twenty-fifth of December,
Scrooge buttons his great-coat to the chin.
SCROOGE
But I suppose you must have the whole day.
Be here all the earlier next morning!
BOB CRATCHIT
I will. I promise.
Scrooge walks out into the street with a growl. Bob Cratchit closes the
office in a twinkling.
EXT. LONDON STREET
A coatless, shivering Bob Cratchit locks the front door and rushes off with
the long ends of his white comforter dangling below his waist.
INT. TAVERN
Scrooge eats a melancholy dinner in a melancholy tavern; the newspapers he
has just read lie in a stack on his table; he studies his banker's-book.
EXT. SCROOGE'S BUILDING
A dark and threatening building. Nobody lives in it but Scrooge, the other
rooms are all let out as offices. The yard is so dark that Scrooge gropes
with his hands through the fog and frost to the black old doorway of the
house on which is a fairly large knocker. Scrooge puts his key in the lock
of the door and glances at the knocker. Without its undergoing any
intermediate process of change, the knocker is no longer a knocker, but
Marley's face. Scrooge gasps.
SCROOGE
(whispers)
Marley?
Marley's face. Not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the yard
are, but with a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar.
Not angry or ferocious, the face looks at Scrooge as Marley used to look:
with ghostly spectacles turned up upon its ghostly forehead; the hair
curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot-air; eyes wide open but perfectly
motionless. That, and its livid colour, make it horrible; but its horror
seems to be in spite of the face and beyond its control, rather than a part
of its own expression. As Scrooge lets go of the key and stares fixedly at
this phenomenon, it becomes a knocker again. Startled, Scrooge puts his hand
upon the key, turns it sturdily, walks in, and lights his candle.
INT. ENTRY HALL
Scrooge pauses to look cautiously behind the door, as if he half expects to
see Marley's pigtail sticking out into the hall. But there's nothing on the
back of the door, except the screws and nuts that hold the knocker on.
Scrooge closes the door with a bang. The sound echoes through the house like
thunder. He fastens the door, walks across the hall, and up the stairs,
slowly, trimming his candle as he goes.
INT. THE STAIRS
A grand old flight of stairs, very wide, very dark. Scrooge peers up into
the darkness and, for a moment, he thinks he sees a something that looks like
a hearse going on before him in the gloom. He pauses, blinks, shakes his
head, then continues, muttering to himself.
INT. SCROOGE'S ROOMS - MONTAGE
A suspicious, slightly unnerved Scrooge walks through his gloomy suite of
rooms -- sitting-room, lumber-room, bed-room -- to be sure that everything's
all right. In the sitting-room, he finds nobody under the table, nobody
under the sofa; a small fire in the grate; spoon and basin ready; and a
little saucepan of gruel (Scrooge has a cold in his head) upon the hob.
Lumber-room as usual. Old fire-guard, old shoes, two fish-baskets, washing-
stand on three legs, and a poker.
Bed-room as usual. Nobody under the bed; nobody in the closet. Suddenly, he
sees a ghostly white shape in the darkness on the opposite side of the room.
Scrooge tenses up for a moment until he realizes it's only his
dressing-gown, hung up in a suspicious attitude against the wall.
Quite satisfied, he closes his door, and locks himself in; in fact, he
double-locks himself in, not his custom. Secured against surprise, he returns
to the bed-room, takes off his cravat and starts to put on his dressing-gown,
slippers, and night-cap.
INT. SCROOGE'S SITTING-ROOM
Having changed clothes, Scrooge sits down before the fire to take his gruel.
It's a very low fire and Scrooge sits close to it. The fireplace is an old
one, built by some Dutch merchant long ago, and paved all round with quaint
Dutch tiles, designed to illustrate the Scriptures. Cains and Abels,
Pharaoh's daughters, Queens of Sheba, Angelic messengers descending through
the air on clouds like feather-beds, Abrahams, Belshazzars, Apostles putting
off to sea in butter-boats, hundreds of figures. Scrooge takes a mouthful
of gruel and glances at the fireplace. FLASH CUT of every tile adorned with
Marley's face as it was on the door-knocker. Scrooge blinks -- and sees that
the tiles have returned to normal.
Scrooge rises and paces the room, feeling unsettled. After several turns, and
more than a few nervous glances at the fireplace, he sits down again. As he
throws his head back in the chair, his glance happens to rest upon a bell, a
disused bell, that hangs in the room. As he looks, the bell begins to swing.
It swings so softly at the outset that it scarcely makes a sound; but soon it
rings out loudly, and for the next twenty seconds, so does every bell in the
house. Throughout, an uneasy look slowly crosses Scrooge's face.
All at once, the bells cease. Scrooge relaxes, but only for a moment: a
clanking noise comes from deep down below, as if some person were dragging a
heavy chain over the casks in the wine-merchant's cellar. The sound of a
downstairs door flying open with a booming sound, and then the clanking
noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then
coming straight towards his door. Scrooge starts talking to himself.
SCROOGE
It's humbug still! I won't believe it.
The colour leaves Scrooge's face though, when, without a pause, the source of
the noise comes on through the heavy door, and passes into the room before
Scrooge's very eyes. Upon its coming in, the dying flame leaps up in the
fire-place and falls again.
The same face: the very same. JACOB MARLEY'S GHOST in his pigtail, usual
waistcoat, tights, and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, like his
pigtail, and his coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head. A wrapper, a folded
kerchief is bound about Marley's head and chin. A long chain is clasped
about his middle, wound about him like a tail; and made of cash-boxes, keys,
padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel. Marley's body
is transparent so that Scrooge, observing him closely, can look through his
waistcoat and see the two buttons on his coat behind. Scrooge feels the need
to crack a joke to keep down his terror.
SCROOGE
(softly)
I'd often heard it said that you had no
heart, Marley, but I never believed it
until now.
Scrooge stares into the ghost's death-cold eyes and reverts to his cold and
caustic self.
SCROOGE
How now! What do you want with me?
MARLEY
Much!
SCROOGE
Who are you?
MARLEY
Ask me who I was.
SCROOGE
Who were you then?
MARLEY
In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley.
SCROOGE
(doubtfully)
Can you -- can you sit down?
MARLEY
I can.
SCROOGE
Do it, then.
Marley sits down on the opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were quite
used to it. Scrooge stares at the ghost's fixed, glazed eyes as it sits
perfectly motionless though its hair, and skirts, and tassels, still quiver
as if by the hot vapour from an oven.
MARLEY
You don't believe in me.
SCROOGE
I don't.
MARLEY
What evidence would you have of my reality
beyond that of your senses?
SCROOGE
I don't know.
MARLEY
Why do you doubt your senses?
SCROOGE
Because a little thing affects them. A
slight disorder of the stomach makes them
cheat. You may be an undigested bit of beef,
a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a
fragment of an underdone potato. There's
more of gravy than of grave about you,
whatever you are! You see this toothpick?
Scrooge holds up a toothpick. The ghost's eyes do not move.
MARLEY
I do.
SCROOGE
You are not looking at it.
MARLEY
But I see it, notwithstanding.
SCROOGE
Well! I have but to swallow this, and be for
the rest of my days persecuted by a legion
of goblins, all of my own creation. Humbug,
I tell you; humbug!
At this, the spirit raises a frightful cry, and shakes its chain with such a
dismal and appalling noise, that Scrooge holds on tight to his chair, to save
himself from falling in a swoon. Marley starts taking off the bandage round
its head, as if it were too warm to wear in-doors. When Marley's lower jaw
drops down to his breast, Scrooge falls on his knees, and clasps his hands
before his face.
SCROOGE
Mercy! Dreadful apparition, why do you
trouble me?
MARLEY
Man of the worldly mind! Do you believe
in me or not?
SCROOGE
I do. I must. But why do spirits walk the
earth, and why do they come to me?
MARLEY
It is required of every man that the spirit
within him should walk abroad among his
fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and if
that spirit goes not go forth 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!
Again Marley raises a cry, and shakes his chain, and wrings his shadowy hands.
SCROOGE
You are fettered. Tell me why?
MARLEY
I wear the chain I forged in life. I made
it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded
it on of my own free will, and of my own
free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange
to you?
Scrooge trembles more and more.
MARLEY
Or would you know the weight and length of
the strong coil you bear yourself? It was
full as heavy and as long as this, seven
Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on
it, since. It is a ponderous chain!
Scrooge glances about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding himself
surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable: but he sees nothing.
SCROOGE
Jacob. Old Jacob Marley, tell me more.
Speak comfort to me, Jacob.
MARLEY
I have none to give. It comes from other
regions, Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyed
by other ministers, to other kinds of men.
Nor can I tell you what I would. A very
little more, is all permitted to me. I
cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot
linger anywhere. My spirit never walked
beyond our counting-house -- mark me! --
in life my spirit never roved beyond the
narrow limits of our money-changing hole;
and weary journeys lie before me!
SCROOGE
You must have been very slow about it,
Jacob.
MARLEY
Slow!
SCROOGE
Seven years dead. And travelling all the
time?
MARLEY
The whole time. No rest, no peace.
Incessant torture of remorse.
SCROOGE
You travel fast?
MARLEY
On the wings of the wind.
SCROOGE
You might have got over a great quantity
of ground in seven years.
Marley screams another cry, and clanks his chain hideously.
MARLEY
Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed!
Not to know, that ages of incessant
labour by immortal creatures, for this
earth must pass into eternity before the
good of which it is susceptible is all
developed. Not to know that any Christian
spirit working kindly in its little sphere,
whatever it may be, will find its mortal
life too short for its vast means of
usefulness. Not to know that no space of
regret can make amends for one life's
opportunities misused! Yet such was I!
Oh! such was I!
SCROOGE
But you were always a good man of business,
Jacob.
MARLEY
Business! Mankind was my business. The
common welfare was my business; charity,
mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were,
all, my business. The dealings of my trade
were but a drop of water in the comprehensive
ocean of my business!
Marley holds up his chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause of all
his unavailing grief, and flings it heavily to the floor again.
MARLEY
At this time of the year, I suffer most.
Why did I walk through crowds of
fellow-beings with my eyes turned down,
and never raise them to that blessed Star
which led the Wise Men to a poor abode?
Were there no poor homes to which its light
would have conducted me!
Scrooge shivers.
MARLEY
Hear me! My time is nearly gone.
SCROOGE
I will. But don't be hard upon me! Don't
be flowery, Jacob!
MARLEY
How it is that I appear before you in a
shape that you can see, I may not tell.
I have sat invisible beside you many and
many a day.
Scrooge shivers at this, and wipes the perspiration from his brow.
MARLEY
That is no light part of my penance. I am
here to-night to warn you, that you have yet
a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A
chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer.
SCROOGE
You were always a good friend to me.
Thank'ee!
MARLEY
You will be haunted ... by Three Spirits.
Scrooge's jaw drops almost as low as Marley's had done.
SCROOGE
Is that the chance and hope you mentioned,
Jacob?
MARLEY
It is.
SCROOGE
I -- I think I'd rather not.
MARLEY
Without their visits, you cannot hope to
shun the path I tread. Expect the first
to-morrow, when the bell tolls One.
SCROOGE
Couldn't I take 'em all at once, and have
it over, Jacob?
MARLEY
Expect the second on the next night at the
same hour. The third upon the next night
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.
Scrooge ventures to raise his eyes again, and finds his supernatural visitor
confronting him in an erect attitude, with its chain wound over and about its
arm. Marley takes his wrapper and wraps it round its head, as before.
Scrooge winces at the clicking sound Marley's teeth make, when his jaws are
brought together by the bandage. Marley walks backward from him; and with
every step, the nearby window raises itself a little, so that when the ghost
reaches it, it's wide open. He beckons Scrooge to approach, which he does.
When they get within two paces of each other, Marley holds up his hand,
warning him to come no nearer. Scrooge stops, not so much in obedience, as in
surprise and fear: for on the raising of the hand, he becomes sensible of
confused noises in the air; incoherent sounds of lamentation and regret;
wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and self-accusatory. Marley, after listening
for a moment, joins in the mournful dirge; and floats out the window into the
bleak, dark night. Scrooge follows to the window: desperate in his
curiosity. He looks out.
EXT. SCROOGE'S BUILDING
The foggy air is filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither in
restless haste, and moaning as they go. Every one of them wears chains like
Marley's; some few (they might be guilty governments) are linked together;
none are free. Many had been personally known to Scrooge in their lives. One
old ghost, in a white waistcoat, with a monstrous iron safe attached to its
ankle, cries piteously at being unable to assist a WRETCHED WOMAN with an
infant, whom it sees below, upon a neighboring door-step. The misery with
them all is, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human
matters, and have lost the power for ever. Whether these creatures fade into
the mist, or the mist enshrouds them, is unclear. But they and their spirit
voices fade together; and the night becomes as it had been when Scrooge
walked home.
INT. SCROOGE'S SITTING-ROOM
Scrooge closes the window, and examines the door by which the Ghost had
entered. It's still double-locked, as he had locked it with his own hands --
the bolts are undisturbed. He tries to say "Humbug!" but stops at the first
syllable.
INT. SCROOGE'S BED-ROOM
Scrooge closes his bed-room door and crosses to his bed. Without undressing,
he gets in, and falls asleep instantly. The light from the fire in the
sitting-room is visible under the closed bed-room door.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. SCROOGE'S BED-ROOM
Scrooge awakes in darkness, some time later. The fire has gone out in the
sitting-room. As the chimes of a neighbouring church strike twelve, Scrooge
counts with his fingers.
SCROOGE
Twelve? It was past two when I went to bed.
Scrooge scrambles out of bed, and gropes his way to the window. He rubs the
frost off with the sleeve of his dressing-gown but all he can make out is
that it's very foggy and very quiet.
SCROOGE
Hmmph! Clock must be wrong. Icicle must
have got into the works.
Scrooge lights a candle and sits on the edge of his bed, looking at his
bedside alarm clock. It reads twelve.
SCROOGE
Twelve! Why, it isn't possible. I can't
have slept through a whole day and far
into another night.
He picks up the clock and checks it, then seems to remember something.
NARRATOR
(voice over)
Now, of course, the Ghost had warned Mr
Scrooge that a spirit would visit him
when the bell tolled one ...
Scrooge appears to make a decision of some kind and begins to fiddle with his
clock.
NARRATOR
(voice over)
... So he resolved to lie awake until the
hour was past; and, considering that he
could no more go to sleep than go to Heaven,
this was perhaps the wisest decision he
could make. Naturally, he didn't want to
be caught dozing off, so he made sure to
set the alarm on his clock to go off
precisely at one.
Scrooge sets the alarm, draws open all the bed-curtains so he may keep a
sharp look-out on the room, and sits up in bed -- waiting for his visitor.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. SCROOGE'S BED-ROOM
About an hour later. Scrooge, warily sitting up in bed, watches the clock
tick to one. The tinny alarm bell goes off. Scrooge looks around the room.
Nothing.
SCROOGE
Bah!
He sighs -- whether in relief or disappointment or embarrassment, it's hard
to tell -- blows out the candle, glances at the door where, the fire having
gone out, no light shines through from the sitting-room. Scrooge draws all
the bed-curtains shut, curls up under the covers, and with a peaceful,
satisfied look on his face, shuts his eyes.
A long pause.
The church bell sounds with a deep, dull, hollow, melancholy ONE. Scrooge's
eyes pop open and a wave of dread passes over his face. A wickedly bright
light flashes up in the room, and the curtains of Scrooge's bed are instantly
drawn aside. Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, finds
himself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them:
It's a weird, impressive figure -- like a child: yet not so like a child as
like an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gives him the
appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a child's
proportions. Its hair, which hangs about its neck and down its back, is white
as if with age; and yet the face has not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest
bloom is on the skin. The arms are very long and muscular; the hands the
same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength. Its legs and feet, most
delicately formed, are, like those upper members, bare. It wears a tunic of
the purest white. Round its waist is bound a lustrous belt, with a beautiful
sheen. It holds a branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singular
contradiction of that wintry emblem, has its dress trimmed with summer
flowers. From the crown of its head there springs a bright clear jet of
light, by which all this is visible; and which is doubtless why it uses, in
its duller moments, a great extinguisher for a cap, which it now holds under
its arm.
Its belt sparkles and glitters now in one part and now in another. And it is
continuously morphing: what is light one instant, at another time is dark, so
the figure itself fluctuates in its 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 is
visible in the dense gloom wherein they melt away and then re-form, distinct
and clear as ever.
SCROOGE
Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was
foretold to me?
THE GHOST
I am!
The voice is soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so close
beside Scrooge, it's at a distance.
SCROOGE
Who, and what are you?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.
SCROOGE
Long past?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
No. Your past.
Scrooge winces and blinks at the light coming from the Ghost's crown.
SCROOGE
I wonder if you might, er, put a hat on.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
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!
SCROOGE
I didn't mean to offend. Er, what business
brings you here?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Your welfare!
SCROOGE
Well, I'm much obliged, but I wonder if a
good night's sleep wouldn't be more conducive
to that end.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Your reclamation, then. Take heed!
The Ghost puts out its strong hand as it speaks, and clasps him gently by the
arm.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Rise! and walk with me!
Scrooge rises, but finding that the Ghost leads him toward the window, clasps
his robe in supplication.
SCROOGE
It's the middle of the night; it's below
freezing; I'm wearing slippers, a
dressing-gown, and a nightcap; I'm mortal.
And I'm liable to fall.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Bear but a touch of my hand there ...
The Ghost points to its heart.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
... and you shall be upheld in more than
this!
Scrooge touches the Ghost's heart and they pass through the wall.
EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY
Scrooge and the Ghost stand on an open, sunlit country road, with fields on
either hand. It's a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.
Scrooge looks about and clasps his hands together.
SCROOGE
Good Heaven! I was bred in this place. I
was a boy here!
The Ghost gazes upon him mildly.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Your lip is trembling. And what is that
upon your cheek?
SCROOGE
(an unusual catching in his voice)
It's a pimple.
(beat)
I beg you, Spirit, lead me where you would.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
You recollect the way?
SCROOGE
Remember it! I could walk it blindfold.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Strange to have forgotten it for so many
years! Let us go on.
They walk along the road; Scrooge points out every gate, and post, and tree;
A little market-town appears in the distance, with a bridge, a church, and a
winding river. Some shaggy ponies, with boys upon their backs, trot down the
road towards Scrooge and the Ghost. The boys call to other boys in country
gigs and carts, driven by farmers. All are in great spirits, and shout to
each other.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
(to Scrooge)
These are but shadows of the things that
have been. They have no consciousness of
us.
The jocund travellers approach; and as they pass by, Scrooge's cold eye
glistens. He hears them wish each other Merry Christmas, as they part at
cross-roads and bye-ways, for their several homes.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
The school is not quite deserted. A
solitary child, neglected by his friends,
is left there still.
SCROOGE
(grim again)
I know it.
EXT. SCHOOLHOUSE
Scrooge and the Ghost leave the high-road and approach a mansion of dull red
brick, with a little weathercock-surmounted cupola, on the roof, and a bell
hanging in it. It's a large house, but one of broken fortunes; for the
spacious offices are little used, their walls are damp and mossy, their
windows broken, and their gates decayed. Fowls cluck and strut in the
stables; and the coach-houses and sheds are over-run with grass. The Ghost
and Scrooge cross to a door at the back of the house. It opens before them,
and discloses:
INT. SCHOOLROOM
A long, bare, melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain deal forms
and desks. At one of these, a lonely boy reads near a feeble fire; Scrooge
sits down upon a form, and weeps to see his poor forgotten self as he used to
be. The Ghost joins him.
SCROOGE
Poor boy!
Scrooge dries his eyes with his cuff, then mutters, puts his hand in his
pocket, and looks about him.
SCROOGE
I wish ... but it's too late now.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
What is the matter?
SCROOGE
Nothing. Nothing. There was a boy singing a
Christmas carol at my window last night. I
should like to have given him something:
that's all.
The Ghost smiles thoughtfully, and waves its hand.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Let us see another Christmas!
Scrooge's younger self suddenly morphs into an older boy, and the room
becomes a little darker and more dirty. The panels shrink, the windows crack;
fragments of plaster fall out of the ceiling; But his former self is still
alone: all the other boys have gone home again for the holidays.
Young Scrooge is not reading now, but walking up and down despairingly.
Scrooge looks at the Ghost, and with a mournful shaking of his head, glances
anxiously towards the door. It opens; and a little girl, much younger than
the boy, stands at the threshold, looking in. It's Scrooge's sister FAN. The
elder Scrooge is amazed to see her.
SCROOGE
(whispers)
Fan...
FAN
Ebenezer.
Fan steps toward him, arms outstretched as if to give him a hug and he
responds. But as she darts forward, her body passes through his -- for she
is but a shadow -- and puts her arms about the neck of the younger Scrooge,
and kisses him. Though disappointed, the elder Scrooge turns to watch the
youngsters embrace.
FAN
Dear, dear brother. I have come to bring
you home, dear brother!
She claps her tiny hands, and bends down to laugh.
FAN
(sings)
To bring you home, home, home!
YOUNG SCROOGE
(stunned)
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's like Heaven!
YOUNG SCROOGE
For you, perhaps. But not for me. He
doesn't know me or even what I look like.
Same as I hardly know you, now that you're
quite a woman.
FAN
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 are
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 SCROOGE
You are quite a woman, little Fan!
She claps her hands and laughs, and tries to touch his head; but being too
little, laughs again, and stands on tiptoe to embrace him. Then she begins to
drag him, in her childish eagerness, towards the door; and he, nothing loth
to go, accompanies her.
EXT. SCHOOLHOUSE
Young Scrooge's trunk is tied on to the top of a coach, not long after. Young
Scrooge and Fan bid an old schoolmaster good-bye, get in, and drive gaily
down the country road: the quick wheels dash the hoar-frost and snow from off
the dark leaves of the evergreens like spray.
EXT. COUNTRY ROAD
The Elder Scrooge and the Ghost stand at the road-side and watch the coach go
by, its two passengers laughing and talking.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Always a delicate creature, whom a breath
might have withered. But she had a large
heart!
SCROOGE
So she had.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
She died a woman. And had, as I think,
children.
SCROOGE
One child.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
True. Your nephew!
Scrooge seems uneasy in his mind.
SCROOGE
(briefly)
Yes.
The Ghost casually peers over Scrooge shoulder and when Scrooge turns 'round
to follow his gaze, he is startled to see:
EXT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
A busy thoroughfare of a city, where shadowy pedestrians pass and shadowy
carts and coaches battle for the way. The dressing of the shops shows that
here too it's Christmas time again; but it's evening, and the streets are
lighted up. Scrooge and the Ghost stand near a warehouse door to which the
Ghost points.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Know it?
SCROOGE
Know it! I apprenticed here!
The Ghost, using a half dozen arms that fade in and out of view, gestures
"After you" and Scrooge enters.
INT. WAREHOUSE
At sight of an old GENTLEMEN in a Welch wig, sitting behind such a high desk,
that if he were two inches taller he would knock his head against the
ceiling, Scrooge lets out a gasp and turns to the Ghost behind him.
SCROOGE
Why, it's old Fezziwig! Bless his heart;
it's Fezziwig alive again!
Old Fezziwig lays down his pen, and looks up at the clock, which points to
the hour of seven. He rubs his hands; adjusts his capacious waistcoat;
laughs, and calls out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice.
FEZZIWIG
Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!
Immediately, EBENEZER -- Scrooge's younger self, now a grown man -- comes
briskly in, accompanied by his fellow-'prentice, DICK.
SCROOGE
(to the Ghost)
Dick Wilkins, to be sure! Bless me, yes.
There he is. He was very much attached to me,
was Dick. Poor Dick! Dear, dear!
FEZZIWIG
Yo ho, my boys! No more work to-night.
Christmas Eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer!
Let's have the shutters up...
(claps his hands, sharply)
... before a man can say, Jack Robinson!
Dick and Ebenezer charge into the street with the shutters -- one, two, three
-- have them up in their places -- four, five, six -- bar 'em and pin 'em --
seven, eight, nine -- and come back before the count of twelve, panting like
race-horses. Fezziwig skips down from the high desk, with wonderful agility.
FEZZIWIG
Hilli-ho! Clear away, my lads, and let's
have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, Dick!
Chirrup, Ebenezer!
FEZZIWIG CHRISTMAS MONTAGE
In a minute, Dick and Ebenezer have every movable packed off, the floor swept
and watered, the lamps trimmed, fuel heaped on the fire; and the warehouse is
as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ball-room.
A fiddler with a music-book enters, goes up to the lofty desk, tunes his
instrument and starts to play. MRS. FEZZIWIG, one vast substantial smile,
enters. Three MISS FEZZIWIGS, beaming and lovable, enter. Six young followers
whose hearts they broke, enter. All the young men and women employed in the
business enter, one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully,
some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling -- twenty couple at once; hands
half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round
and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; as the dance ends, old
Fezziwig, clapping his hands, crying out, "Well done!" The fiddler buries his
face in a pot of porter and then pops up again, refreshed, to keep playing.
Throughout, Scrooge and the Ghost watch. Or, rather, the Ghost watches and
Scrooge lives and re-lives every moment. He points out the guests to the
Ghost and talks about them animatedly, though we can't hear him over all the
noise. Eventually, he ditches the Ghost like a bad blind date and follows
his younger self 'round the room, listening in on conversations and laughing
along with various jokes.
More dancing. Also eating: cake, negus, a great piece of Cold Roast, a great
piece of Cold Boiled, mince-pies, and plenty of beer. The fiddler strikes up
"Sir Roger de Coverley." Old Fezziwig dances with Mrs. Fezziwig -- an
impressive display: advance and retire, hold hands with your partner, bow and
curtsey; corkscrew; thread-the-needle, and back again to your place. Young
Ebenezer, too, dances up a storm as his elder self looks on in amazement.
The clock strikes eleven as the party winds down. Mr and Mrs Fezziwig take
their stations, one on either side of the door, and shake hands with every
person individually as he or she goes out, wishes him or her a Merry
Christmas. When everyone has gone but the two 'prentices, they do the same to
them; Suddenly, all is very quiet as the young men are left to clean up.
Scrooge remembers the Ghost, and becomes conscious that it's looking full
upon him, while the light upon its head burns very clear.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
A small matter to make these silly folks so
full of gratitude.
SCROOGE
Small!
The Spirit signs to him to listen to the two apprentices. We overhear a
snatch of the conversation as they tidy the room.
DICK
What a sweet old man is Mr Fezziwig!
EBENEZER
The sweetest! Didja see him dancin' with
the Missus -- and the look on his face?
DICK
Oh, yes!
EBENEZER
He was in Heaven -- and fully deserved to
be.
DICK
And where the devil did he find that
fiddler?
EBENEZER
Oh, wasn't he marvelous? Nothing's too good
for Fezziwig. I'd say this year's party was
finer than the last -- if such a thing is
possible.
As the boys head into another room, the Ghost turns to Scrooge.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Fezziwig spent but a few pounds of your
mortal money: three or four perhaps. Is that
so much that he deserves this praise?
SCROOGE
It isn't that. It isn't that, Spirit. 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 Ghost raises an eyebrow at this, and Scrooge stops.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
What is the matter?
SCROOGE
Nothing particular.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Something, I think?
SCROOGE
No. No. I should like to be able to say a
word or two to my clerk just now. That's all.
Suddenly, the room darkens as young Ebenezer re-enters and turns down the
lamps.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
My time grows short.
The room continues to darken until the scene fades to black.
EXT. GRAVEYARD - DAY
The black hole of a freshly dug grave -- on a frosty green cemetery lawn
under a sunny blue sky. Nearby is Ebenezer, older now, a man in the prime of
life, but without the harsh and rigid lines of later years: merely a few
signs of care and avarice. An eager, greedy, restless motion afflicts his
eye. He sits on a bench under a shady tree watching a fair young girl in a
mourning-dress placing flowers by a tombstone -- her tears sparkle in the
light that shines out of the Ghost of Christmas Past, who stands on the
opposite side of the 'stone. An astonished Scrooge stands beside the Ghost,
staring at her, his face just inches from hers.
SCROOGE
(whispers)
Belle ...
He reaches out to touch her, but she abruptly turns and crosses to his
younger self, going from sunshine to shade. BELLE joins Ebenezer on the
bench and takes up what appears to be an ongoing conversation.
BELLE
It matters little, 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.
EBENEZER
What Idol has displaced you?
BELLE
A golden one.
EBENEZER
(tries to be reasonable)
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?
EBENEZER
What then? Even if I have grown so much
wiser, what then? I am not changed towards
you.
Belle shakes her head.
EBENEZER
Am I?
BELLE
Our engagement 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.
EBENEZER
(impatiently)
I was a boy. 'Tis true, I am not now what I
was then.
BELLE
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 from our
engagement.
EBENEZER
Have I ever sought release?
BELLE
In words? No. Never.
EBENEZER
In what, then?
BELLE
In a changed nature; in an altered spirit;
in another atmosphere of life; another Hope
as 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!
He seems to yield to the justice of this supposition, in spite of himself.
EBENEZER
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 from our
engagement. With a full heart, for the love
of him you once were.
A pause. He is about to speak; but with her head turned from him, she
resumes.
BELLE
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!
Abruptly, she rises and leaves him.
SCROOGE
Spirit! Show me no more! Conduct me home. Why
do you delight to torture me?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
One shadow more!
SCROOGE
No more! No more. I don't wish to see it.
Show me no more!
But the relentless Ghost pinions his arms, and turns him 'round to observe:
INT. BELLE'S SITTING-ROOM - NIGHT
A room, not very large or handsome, but full of comfort and Christmas
decorations. All is quiet. Falling snow is visible out the windows. Near
the fireplace, sits a beautiful young girl, nearly identical to Belle. Belle
herself, now a comely matron, is also by the fire -- sitting opposite her
daughter. Scrooge gazes upon them in awe, particularly the daughter.
NARRATOR
(voice over)
I suspect it must have staggered Mr Scrooge
to see these women, especially the younger
one, because had he played his cards
differently, a woman such as she might well
have called him father, and been like a
spring-time for him in the haggard winter
of his life.
(beat)
Of course, he might well have had more than
one child ...
Nearly a dozen children explode into the room, making a tumultuous noise, but
no one seems to care; on the contrary, the mother and daughter laugh
heartily, and enjoy it very much; and the latter mingles with them and gets
clobbered ruthlessly. They stream around a startled Scrooge, running, jumping
and playing with enormous energy.
NARRATOR
(voice over)
... Oh, what would I not have given to be
one of those children! Though I never could
have been so rude, no, no! I wouldn't for
the wealth of all the world have behaved so
wildly, God bless my soul!
Upon a knocking at the door, the children stampede immediately, and the
daughter is borne towards it in the centre of the flushed and boisterous
group, just in time to greet their father, who comes home laden with
Christmas toys and presents. Shouting and struggling, the kids swarm their
father, BELLE'S HUSBAND: scaling him, with chairs for ladders, to dive into
his pockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels, hold on tight by his cravat,
hug him round the neck, pummel his back, and kick his legs in irrepressible
affection! They shout with wonder and delight at each package they receive.
Belle has risen from her chair to watch the proceedings and happens to stand
next to Scrooge who watches her and her family closely, no doubt pondering
what might have been.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. BELLE'S SITTING-ROOM
Later that evening. Gift-wrapping litters the floor. The children have gone
to bed and all is quiet again. Scrooge and the Ghost look on as Belle's
husband, having his eldest daughter leaning fondly on him, sits down with her
and her mother at the fireside; The husband turns to his wife with a smile.
BELLE'S HUSBAND
Belle, I saw an old friend of yours this
afternoon.
BELLE
Who was it?
BELLE'S HUSBAND
Guess!
BELLE
How can I? Tut, don't I know. Ebenezer
Scrooge.
BELLE'S HUSBAND
Scrooge it was. 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 lies upon the point of
death, I hear; and there he sat alone. Quite
alone in the world, I do believe.
Scrooge, sitting beside the Ghost on the far side of the room, shuts his eyes
and shakes his head.
SCROOGE
Spirit! Remove me from this place.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
I told you these were shadows of the things
that have been. That they are what they are,
do not blame me!
SCROOGE
Remove me! I cannot bear it!
Scrooge turns upon the Ghost, and sees that it looks at him with an oddly
morphing face, in which there momentarily appear fragments of all the faces
it has shown him: his younger selves, Fan, the Fezziwigs, Dick Wilkins,
Belle, etc. Terrified, Scrooge physically attacks the Ghost.
SCROOGE
Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!
The Ghost offers no visible resistance of its own but remains undisturbed by
Scrooge's attack, the light from its head burns high and bright; Scrooge
seizes the extinguisher-cap from under its arm and presses it down upon the
Ghost's head. The Ghost seems to shrink beneath it, so that the extinguisher
covers its whole form; but though Scrooge presses it down with all his force,
he can't hide the light, which streams from under it, in an unbroken flood
upon the ground. In a last great effort, he throws the whole of his body atop
the cap and the light goes out. Blackness.
INT. SCROOGE'S BED-ROOM
The room is dark -- no light shines under the bed-room door from the sitting-
room. Scrooge -- in roughly the same position we last saw him -- lies in his
bed atop his pillow. In the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, Scrooge
awakens with a start and sits up in bed. He lights his candle and looks
around. His bedside clock reads five minutes to one.
NARRATOR
(voice over)
Now, Marley's Ghost had warned Scrooge that
a second spirit would haunt him at the
stroke of one. I don't mind telling you
that Scrooge was now prepared for a good
broad field of strange appearances, and
that nothing between a baby and a rhinoceros
would have astonished him very much. By this
time, he was ready for almost anything ...
From the church clock, the chimes strike one. Scrooge steels himself.
NARRATOR
(voice over)
... But, you see, he was not by any means
ready for nothing ...
And nothing is exactly what happens. After a lengthy pause, Scrooge checks
his clock, sighs and, with a last look around, blows out the candle and lies
down on the bed. Suddenly, he bolts straight up -- staring at his bed-room
door. Light is again streaming in from the sitting-room. Scrooge gets up
softly and shuffles in his slippers to the door. His hand is on the lock
when a voice from the sitting-room calls out.
VOICE
Scrooooooge? Come in, Scrooge!
A trembling Scrooge opens the door and enters:
INT. SCROOGE'S SITTING-ROOM
It's his own room, but it's undergone a transformation. The walls and ceiling
are so hung with living green, that it looks a perfect grove; from every part
of which, bright gleaming berries glisten. Crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe,
and ivy reflect back the light like so many little mirrors; and a mighty
blaze roars in the fire-place. Heaped up on the floor, to form a kind of
throne, are turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat,
sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of
oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious
pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that make the
chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch, there
sits a jolly Giant, glorious to see: who carries a glowing torch, in shape
not unlike Plenty's horn, and holds it up, high up, to shed its light on
Scrooge, as he comes peeping round the door.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
Come in! Come in and know me better, man!
Scrooge enters timidly. The Spirit's eyes are clear and kind, but Scrooge
does not look at them.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
I am the Ghost of Christmas Present! Look
upon me!
Scrooge does so. The ghost wears a simple green robe, or mantle, bordered
with white fur, hanging so loosely on the figure, that its capacious breast
is bare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice. Its
feet, observable beneath the ample folds of the garment, are also bare; and
on its head it wears no other covering than a holly wreath, set here and
there with shining icicles. Its dark brown curls are long and free: free as
its genial face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its
unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. Girded round its middle is an
antique scabbard; but with no sword in it, and the ancient sheath is eaten up
with rust.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
You have never seen the like of me before?
SCROOGE
Never.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
Have never walked forth with my elder
brothers born in these later years?
SCROOGE
I don't think I have. I am afraid I have
not. Have you had many brothers, Spirit?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
Approximately eighteen hundred and
forty-two.
SCROOGE
A tremendous family to provide for!
The Ghost of Christmas Present smiles and rises.
SCROOGE
Spirit, conduct me where you will. I went
forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt
a lesson which is working now. To-night, if
you have aught to teach me, let me profit by
it.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
Touch my robe!
Scrooge does as he's told, and holds it fast. Holly, mistletoe, red berries,
ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters,
pies, puddings, fruit, and punch, all vanish instantly. So does the room, the
fire, the ruddy glow, the hour of night...
EXT. CITY STREET - DAY
Scrooge and the Spirit wander the city streets on Christmas morning, where
the severe weather causes the people to make a rough, but brisk and not
unpleasant kind of music, in scraping the snow from the pavement in front of
their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses. Scrooge and the Spirit
see that the corner poulterer's shop is still open, and in its window hang
two Prize Turkeys. One is the size of a boy, the other a little smaller.
Happy crowds pour forth into the streets on their way to church, dressed in
their Sunday best. Scrooge and the Spirit press on into Camden Town.
EXT. BOB CRATCHIT'S HOME
On the threshold of the door, Scrooge watches as the Spirit smiles and stops
to bless Bob Cratchit's four-roomed house with an unspoken prayer.
INT. BOB CRATCHIT'S HOME
MRS CRATCHIT, Bob Cratchit's wife, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned
gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a goodly show for
sixpence; and she lays the table-cloth, assisted by BELINDA, second of her
daughters, also brave in ribbons; while the adolescent Master PETER Cratchit
plunges a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, then into his mouth. Two
smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, come tearing in, screaming something
incomprehensible; and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage-and-onion, these
young Cratchits dance about the table. The eldest, Peter Cratchit, blows the
fire, until the slow potatoes, bubbling up, knock loudly at the saucepan-lid.
MRS. CRATCHIT
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!
As if on cue, MARTHA, the eldest daughter, enters.
MARTHA
Here's Martha, mother!
THE TWO SMALL CRATCHITS
Here's Martha, mother! Hurrah! There's such
a goose, Martha!
MRS. CRATCHIT
Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how
late you are!
Mrs Cratchit, kisses Martha, and takes off her shawl and bonnet for her with
officious zeal.
MARTHA
We'd a deal of work to finish up last night
and had to clear away this morning, mother!
MRS. CRATCHIT
Well! Never mind so long as you are come.
Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and
have a warm, Lord bless ye!
THE TWO SMALL CRATCHITS
No, no! There's father coming. Hide,
Martha, hide!
So Martha hides herself, and, to Scrooge's surprise -- for until now, he
hadn't a clue as to whose house this was -- in comes little Bob Cratchit, the
father, with at least three feet of comforter hanging down before him; and
his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and TINY
TIM upon his shoulder. He sets Tim down gently. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bears
a little crutch, and has his limbs supported by an iron frame. He limps
badly, favoring his right leg. Bob looks around.
BOB CRATCHIT
Why, where's our Martha?
MRS. CRATCHIT
Not coming.
BOB CRATCHIT
(heartbroken)
Not coming! Not coming upon Christmas Day!
Martha doesn't like to see him disappointed, even if it were only in joke; so
she comes out prematurely from behind the closet door, and runs into his
arms, while the two young Cratchits help Tiny Tim to the wash-house, that he
might hear the pudding singing in the copper. Bob hugs Martha to his heart's
content until she breaks away to tend to the supper. Husband and wife are
alone for a moment.
MRS. CRATCHIT
And how did little Tim behave in church?
BOB CRATCHIT
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 in church saw
him, 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.
(a long pause)
He's growing stronger and heartier every
day, isn't he?
The look that crosses Mrs Cratchit's face is not encouraging.
MRS. CRATCHIT
(quietly)
Yes, dear. He is.
With his active little crutch, Tiny Tim returns, escorted by his brother and
sister to his stool before the fire;
THE TWO SMALL CRATCHITS
The goose is cooked! The goose is cooked!
CHRISTMAS DINNER MONTAGE
Bob Cratchit turns up his cuffs and compounds some hot mixture in a jug with
gin and lemons, and stirs it round and round and puts it on the hob to
simmer; Peter, and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits fetch the goose and
carry it to the table. Mrs Cratchit pours the gravy, hissing hot; Peter
mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belinda sweetens up the
apple-sauce; Martha dusts the hot plates; Bob takes Tiny Tim beside him in a
tiny corner at the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody,
not forgetting themselves. At last, the table is set -- goose, apple-sauce
and mashed potatoes.
SCROOGE
(to the Spirit, matter-of-fact)
Hmmph. Not much of a goose.
TINY TIM
Bless us, O Lord! and these Thy gifts,
which we are about to receive from Thy
bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.
A breathless pause, as Mrs Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-
knife, prepares to plunge it in the breast; but when she does, and when the
long expected gush of stuffing issues forth, one murmur of delight arises all
round the table, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beats
on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly cries "Hurrah!" In a
moment, everyone's mouth is full.
BOB CRATCHIT
(to Mrs Cratchit)
I don't believe there ever was such a goose
cooked. So tender.
MARTHA
(to Mrs Cratchit)
And delicious.
ONE OF THE SMALL CRATCHITS
(to Mrs Cratchit)
And big.
MRS CRATCHIT
(wryly)
And cheap.
TINY TIM
(to Mrs Cratchit)
It's lovely, Mother. This a goose we shall
remember for as long as we live.
MRS. CRATCHIT
Thank you, Tim.
After a DISSOLVE, Miss Belinda changes the plates. Mrs Cratchit is visibly
nervous.
MRS. CRATCHIT
I can't stand to look at the pudding.
Suppose it should not be done enough?
Suppose it should break in turning out?
BOB CRATCHIT
(mock horror)
Suppose somebody should have got over
the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it,
while we were eating the goose?
Bob's mouth makes a perfect O and his eyebrows almost leave his head. The
two small Cratchits become livid and start yelling at him. Everyone roars
with laughter at this, even Mrs Cratchit. Belinda bursts into the room
accompanied by a great deal of steam and, in an instant, the pudding is out
of the copper like a speckled cannon-ball, hard and firm, blazing in half of
half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck
into the top. Everyone oohs and aahhhs as Mrs Cratchit blushes and smiles
proudly.
BOB CRATCHIT
Oh, a wonderful pudding!
Bob Cratchit holds up a glass to propose a toast.
BOB CRATCHIT
A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears.
God bless us!
Which all the family re-echoes.
TINY TIM
God bless us every one!
The family drinks and gets to work on the pudding. Tim sits very close to
his father's side upon his little stool. Bob holds Tim's withered little hand
in his, as if he wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be
taken from him. Scrooge watches them with fascination -- it's a side of
Cratchit he's never thought of. Without taking his eyes off them, he nods to
the Spirit.
SCROOGE
Spirit ... tell me if Tiny Tim will live.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
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, the child
will die.
SCROOGE
No, no. Oh, no, kind Spirit! say he will
be spared.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
If these shadows remain unaltered by the
Future, none other of my race will find him
here. What then?
(assuming Scrooge's voice)
If he be like to die, he had better do it,
and decrease the surplus population.
Overcome with penitence and grief, Scrooge hangs his head to hear his own
words quoted.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
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, that in the
sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and
less fit to live than millions like this
poor man's child. Oh God! to hear the
Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too
much life among his hungry brothers in the
dust!
Scrooge bends before the Spirit's rebuke, and trembling, casts his eyes upon
the ground.
BOB CRATCHIT
Mr Scrooge!
Scrooge looks up, startled to hear someone call his name. Bob Cratchit holds
a glass up to him, making a toast.
BOB CRATCHIT
I'll give you Mr Scrooge, the Founder of
the Feast!
MRS. CRATCHIT
(blushes)
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 CRATCHIT
(gently chiding)
My dear, the children; Christmas Day.
MRS. CRATCHIT
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 do, poor fellow!
BOB CRATCHIT
My dear, have some charity. It's Christmas
Day.
MRS. CRATCHIT
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!
The children drink the toast after her, the first time they show no
heartiness. Tiny Tim drinks last of all, not caring. Scrooge sees he is the
Ogre of the family and turns away from them, toward the window where the
evening sun sets.
EXT. MOOR - SUNSET
Scrooge and the Spirit stand on a bleak and desert moor, where monstrous
masses of rude stone are cast about, as though it were the burial-place of
giants; where nothing grows but moss and furze, and coarse, rank grass. Down
in the west the setting sun leaves a streak of fiery red, which glares upon
the desolation for an instant, like a sullen eye, and frowning lower, lower,
lower yet, was lost in the thick gloom of darkest night.
SCROOGE
What place is this?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
A place where Miners live, who labour in
the bowels of the earth. But they know me.
See!
A light shines from the window of a hut, and swiftly Scrooge and the Spirit
advance towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, they find:
INT. HUT - NIGHT
A cheerful FAMILY assembled round a glowing fire. An old, old man and woman,
with their children and their children's children, and another generation
beyond that, all decked out gaily in their holiday attire. The old man, in a
quiet but fervent voice, sings them a Christmas song, and they all join in
the chorus. The Spirit gestures to Scrooge to hold his robe, and the two
rise up through the roof of the hut and high into:
EXT. THE NIGHT SKY
They fly above the moor, speeding out to sea. To Scrooge's horror, looking
back, he sees the last of the land, a frightful range of rocks, behind them;
EXT. THE OCEAN
The Spirit and Scrooge: two rapidly moving silhouettes skimming the ocean's
surface.
EXT. LIGHTHOUSE
Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some league or so from shore, on
which the waters chafe and dash, there stands a solitary lighthouse. Great
heaps of sea-weed cling to its base, and storm-birds -- born of the wind one
might suppose, as sea-weed of the water -- rise and fall about it, like the
waves they skim.
INT. LIGHTHOUSE
Two LIGHTHOUSE KEEPERS have made a fire, that through the loophole in the
thick stone wall sheds out a ray of brightness on the awful sea. Joining
their horny hands over the rough table at which they sat, they toast each
other a Merry Christmas in their can of grog; and one of them -- the elder,
with his face all damaged and scarred with hard weather, as the figure-head
of an old ship might be -- strikes up the song heard in the miners' hut. Just
outside their window, a hundred ten feet in the air, Scrooge and the Spirit
watch. The Spirit gives Scrooge a tug -- and off they fly.
EXT. SHIP MONTAGE - DAY
As the sun rises on a distant horizon, Scrooge and the Spirit observe: the
helmsman at the wheel as a fellow sailor quietly wishes him a Merry
Christmas; the look-out in the bow as he hums a carol; two officers on watch
exchanging gifts; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every
man among them, lost in thought. In the galley, an illiterate sailor dictates
a letter to a friend.
SAILOR
(dictates)
My dearest, dearest Emily. The holiday
season finds my thoughts turning ever more
to you ...
(to the friend)
How's that, so far?
The friend merely looks at him and shrugs.
SAILOR
(dictates)
I should like to have been home this
Christmas, but I am afraid I have been
shanghaied ....
From behind him, Scrooge hears a long, hearty -- and familiar -- laugh.
After a moment, he recognises it.
SCROOGE
Fred?
He turns toward the laugh, suddenly finding himself in:
INT. HIS NEPHEW'S SITTING-ROOM - NIGHT
A bright, dry, gleaming room in a finely-appointed house. The Spirit,
standing smiling by Scrooge's side, looks at Scrooge's nephew with approving
affability. Scrooge's nephew Fred laughs: holding his sides, rolling his
head, and twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions: Scrooge's
NIECE, by marriage, laughs as heartily as he. And their assembled friends
being not a bit behindhand, roar out lustily.
FRED
He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I
live! He believed it too!
NIECE
More shame for him, Fred!
Scrooge's niece is exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled, surprised-looking,
capital face; a ripe little mouth, that seems made to be kissed -- as no
doubt it often is; She is seated in a large chair with a footstool, in a snug
corner right by the door -- and never leaves this position.
ONE OF THE GUESTS
I should very much like to meet your uncle,
Fred. The droll way in which you portray
him makes me curious.
FRED
He's a comical old fellow, that's the truth:
and not so pleasant as he might be. However,
his offences carry their own punishment, and
I have nothing to say against him.
NIECE
I'm sure he is 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! -- that he is ever going to
benefit Us with it.
NIECE
I have no patience with him.
ANOTHER WOMAN
Nor I.
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.
NIECE
Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner.
Really, Fred, I think you're being awfully
charitable.
FRED
If that's so, it may be because my mother,
God rest her saintly soul, was very fond
of him. She loved him.
The Spirit glances at Scrooge who tries to appear unmoved.
NIECE
But do go on, Fred.
(to the guests)
He never finishes what he begins to say.
He is such a ridiculous fellow!
FRED
I was only going to say, that the
consequence of his taking a dislike to us,
and not making merry with us, is, as I
think, that he loses some pleasant moments,
which could do him no harm. I am sure he
loses pleasanter companions than he can find
in his own thoughts, either in his mouldy
old office, or his dusty chambers. I mean
to give him the same chance every year,
whether he likes it or not, for I pity him.
He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but
he can't help thinking better of it -- I
defy him -- if he finds me going there, in
good temper, year after year, and saying
Uncle Scrooge, how are you? If it only puts
him in the vein to leave his poor clerk
fifty pounds, that's something; and I think
I shook him yesterday.
Before Fred finishes, one of the female guests has begun to play a simple
little tune upon the harp; and the others choose partners and take to dancing
about the room. There might be twenty people there, young and old, but they
all dance. The rhythm is infectious and Scrooge keeps time with his feet,
enjoying himself in a quiet way. The Spirit seems greatly pleased to find him
in this mood.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. HIS NEPHEW'S SITTING-ROOM
Later that evening. Everyone is seated. Scrooge's niece is in her usual
chair by the door. Scrooge and the Spirit -- whose hair has by now greyed
considerably -- stand nearby. One of the guests, TOPPER, stands in the
center of the room trying to keep everyone's attention.
TOPPER
Now, then, it's a Game called Yes and No.
(to Fred)
Since you're the host, you'll go first.
But Fred is reluctant and waves him off. The others jeer at him to take part
and he forces himself to rise.
SCROOGE
(to the Spirit)
I think we should at least stay until the
guests have departed.
FRED
(to Topper)
Oh, dear. What do I have to do?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
I'm afraid that cannot be done.
SCROOGE
Here is a new game. One half hour, Spirit,
only one!
TOPPER
(to Fred)
You think of something, anything, and the
rest of us must find out what it is; But you
may only answer our questions 'yes' or 'no',
as the case may be.
FRED
Ah, all right. Well .... Oh, I've got it.
TOPPER
You've thought of something?
FRED
Yes. Fire away.
NOT TOO BRIGHT GUEST
Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?
TOPPER
(to the guest)
No, no, no. It has to be a question he can
answer 'yes' or 'no'.
(to Fred)
Are you thinking of an animal?
FRED
(grins)
Yes.
NOT TOO BRIGHT GUEST
Living or dead?
Everyone giggles at the Not Too Bright Guest. Topper sits down.
SOMEONE ELSE
Is it living?
FRED
Yes.
ANOTHER GUEST
A wild animal?
FRED
(laughs)
Well ...
SOMEONE ELSE
Can it be found in London?
FRED
Yes. I'm afraid so.
ANOTHER GUEST
Does it live in a menagerie?
FRED
No! Wouldn't go near it.
THE PLUMP SISTER
Is it a horse?
FRED
No!
NIECE
Is it an ass?
At this, Fred roars with laughter; and is so inexpressibly tickled, that he
doubles over and stamps his foot.
FRED
No!
SCROOGE
Is it a cow?
The Spirit gives Scrooge a look as if to say: "They can't hear you..." and
Scrooge scowls as if to say: "Shut up. I'm having fun."
SOMEONE ELSE
Does it walk the streets?
FRED
Yes!
NIECE
Is it some kind of rat?
FRED
(laughs, clutches his sides)
No! Maybe a pack-rat.
TOPPER
Wait! Is it a man?
Fred bites his lip to keep from laughing and nods, Yes.
THE PLUMP SISTER
I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred!
I know what it is!
SEVERAL GUESTS
(ad-lib)
What is it? What?
THE PLUMP SISTER
It's your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!
FRED
Yes!
Everybody, even the Spirit, roars with laughter, except Scrooge, who is
stunned -- and a trifle humiliated. The niece, right beside Scrooge, grins
mischievously and wags a finger at Fred.
NIECE
That's not fair! When I asked 'Is it an
ass?', you should have answered 'yes'!
Everybody roars even louder at this, except Scrooge, who is now completely
humiliated. Fred picks up his glass of wine.
FRED
He has given us plenty of merriment, I am
sure, and it would be ungrateful not to
drink his health. I say, 'Uncle Scrooge!'"
SEVERAL GUESTS
(ad-lib)
Well! Uncle Scrooge. Here's to 'im!
FRED
A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to
the old man, whatever he is! He wouldn't
take it from me, but may he have it,
nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!
The Ghost and Scrooge exchange glances. The niece drinks and sets down her
empty glass.
INT. CHARITY WARD
Where someone else sets down an empty glass: a wretched woman with an infant
-- the one Scrooge saw from his window during the visit of Marley's Ghost --
one of many destitute people, wrapped in blankets, lying on cots in the
crowded room. Scrooge watches as a young BOY comes around to pick up her
glass. Others like him attend to a multitude of the sick and the poor.
WRETCHED WOMAN
Thank you. Thank you, so much.
BOY
Do you feel rested now?
WRETCHED WOMAN
I do. Bless your dear gentle heart. You know,
my dear, I-I'm very grateful for all you're
doing. If I'd've known you people were here,
I'd've come sooner. And brought friends.
There are a lot of people I know who could
use your help-- Tell me, why-why aren't
there more places like this?
The boy doesn't quite know how to respond.
BOY
I don't know.
He can only smile weakly, touch her arm, and move on. He walks past a couple
of familiar faces: the two portly gentlemen who paid a visit to Scrooge the
day before seeking a charitable donation. They stand off to one side
surveying the scene with mixed emotions.
2ND GENTLEMAN
Quite a turn-out.
1ST GENTLEMAN
More than expected.
(matter-of-fact)
We haven't enough funds to last until next
week.
2ND GENTLEMAN
Something will turn up, I'm sure.
Scrooge observes the 1st Gentleman pulling a fancy watch from his pocket and
staring at it. The 2nd Gentleman looks him over sympathetically.
2ND GENTLEMAN
It's been long day. Thinking about going
home to the family?
The 1st Gentleman shakes his head, No.
1ST GENTLEMAN
(wryly)
Thinking about selling a watch.
The watch reads but a few minutes before midnight.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. THE SHADOW OF A CHURCH TOWER
The church clock reads but a few minutes before midnight. Scrooge and the
Spirit stand below it. While Scrooge remains unaltered in his outward form,
the Ghost has grown older, clearly older, its hair whitened with age. Scrooge
squints at the Spirit as they stand together.
SCROOGE
Your hair is grey. Are spirits' lives so
short?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
My life is very brief. It ends to-night.
SCROOGE
To-night!
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
To-night at midnight.
Scrooge's gaze goes from the clock to the Spirit's robe.
SCROOGE
Forgive me if I am not justified in what I
ask, but I see something strange, and not
belonging to yourself, protruding from your
skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
It might well be a claw, for all the flesh
there is upon it. Look here.
From the foldings of its robe, it brings two children; wretched, abject,
frightful, hideous, miserable. They kneel down at its feet, and cling upon
the outside of its garment.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!
A boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate,
too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their
features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and
shrivelled hand, like that of age, has pinched, and twisted them, and pulled
them into shreds.
SCROOGE
Spirit! are they yours?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
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!
The Spirit stretches out its hand towards the city.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for
your factious purposes, and make it worse!
And bide the end!
SCROOGE
Have they no refuge or resource?
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
(assuming Scrooge's voice)
Are there no prisons? Are there no
workhouses?
Scrooge winces at this. The church bell strikes twelve. Scrooge looks about
him. The Spirit is gone. Another, a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded,
comes, like a mist along the ground, towards him.
SCROOGE
(to himself)
Midnight. The last of the spirits.
The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approaches. Scrooge bends down upon his
knee; for in the very air through which this Phantom moves it seems to
scatter gloom and mystery. It is shrouded in a deep black garment, which
conceals its head, its face, its form, and leaves nothing of it visible save
one outstretched hand. But for this it would be difficult to detach its
figure from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it is
surrounded. It is tall and stately and its mysterious presence fills Scrooge
with a solemn dread. The Phantom neither speaks nor moves.
SCROOGE
I am in the presence of the Ghost of
Christmas Yet To Come?
The Phantom answers not, but points onward with its hand.
SCROOGE
You are about to show me shadows of the
things that have not happened, but will
happen in the time before us. Is that so,
Spirit?
The upper portion of the garment contracts for an instant in its folds, as if
the Phantom had nodded its head.
SCROOGE
Ghost of the Future! I fear you more than any
spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose
is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be
another man from what I was, I am prepared to
bear you company, and do it with a thankful
heart. Will you not speak to me?
It gives him no reply. The hand points straight before them.
SCROOGE
Lead on! Lead on! The night is waning fast,
and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead
on, Spirit!
The Phantom moves away as it had come towards him. Scrooge follows in its
shadow, which seems to bear him up and carry him along.
INT. THE LONDON EXCHANGE - DAY
They scarcely seem to enter the Exchange; for the Exchange rather seems to
spring up about them, and encompass them of its own act. They stand amongst
the businessmen; The Phantom stops and points to one little knot of men.
Scrooge peers at them. Among them are the fat man and the red-faced man he
had spoken to the day before.
SCROOGE
Yes, I know these gentlemen. Business
associates.
The Phantom continues to point. Scrooge takes the hint and advances to
listen to their talk.
FAT MAN WITH A MONSTROUS CHIN
No, I don't know much about it, either way.
I only know he's dead.
2nd MAN
When did he die?
FAT MAN WITH A MONSTROUS CHIN
Last night, I believe.
3rd MAN
Why, what was the matter with him? I thought
he'd never die.
FAT MAN WITH A MONSTROUS CHIN
(yawns)
God knows.
RED-FACED MAN WITH A
PENDULOUS EXCRESCENCE
What has he done with his money?
FAT MAN WITH A MONSTROUS CHIN
I haven't heard. Left it to his Company,
perhaps. He hasn't left it to me. That's all
I know.
Everyone laughs.
FAT MAN WITH A MONSTROUS CHIN
It's likely to be a very cheap funeral, for
upon my life I don't know of anybody to go
to it. Suppose we make up a party and
volunteer?
RED-FACED MAN WITH A
PENDULOUS EXCRESCENCE
I don't mind going if a lunch is provided.
But I must be fed, if I make one.
Another laugh.
FAT MAN WITH A MONSTROUS CHIN
Well, I am the most disinterested among you,
after all, for I never wear black gloves,
and I never eat lunch. But I'll offer to go,
if anybody else will. When I come to think
of it, I'm not at all sure that I wasn't his
most particular friend; for we used to stop
and speak whenever we met. Bye, bye!
The men stroll away, and mix with other groups. Scrooge looks towards the
Spirit for an explanation. The Phantom glides on into another street.
EXT. LONDON EXCHANGE
The Phantom's finger points to two middle-aged men meeting on the massive
stone steps.
SCROOGE
(to the Phantom)
I know these men, perfectly. Men of
business: very wealthy, and of great
importance. I've made a point always of
standing well in their esteem -- in a
business point of view, that is; strictly
business.
1st BUSINESSMAN
How are you?
2nd BUSINESSMAN
How are you?
1st BUSINESSMAN
Well! Old Scratch has got his own at last,
hey?
2nd BUSINESSMAN
So I am told. Cold, isn't it?
1st BUSINESSMAN
Seasonable for Christmas time. You're not
a skaiter, I suppose?
2nd BUSINESSMAN
No. No. Something else to think of. Good
morning!
The two men part. A puzzled Scrooge follows the Phantom through the streets.
EXT. CITY STREET
A busy street corner. Scrooge peers curiously at the Phantom.
SCROOGE
I am rather surprised that you should
attach importance to conversations
apparently so trivial.
No response from the Phantom.
SCROOGE
They must have some hidden purpose, or
else you wouldn't be showing them to me.
Is that right?
No response.
SCROOGE
They could scarcely have any bearing on
the death of Jacob, my old partner, for
his death was in the Past, and this is
the Future.
Scrooge looks around at the multitudes of pedestrians pouring past him.
SCROOGE
I can't help but notice that this is my
accustomed corner, and I see by the clock
that this is my usual time of day for being
here... but I see no likeness of myself.
Caught up in what he's saying, Scrooge fails to see the Phantom move off.
SCROOGE
Not that I'm surprised, you understand.
You see, I've been revolving in my mind a,
er, change of life. And I should like to
think... that is, I rather hope... that my
not being here is the result of my having
carried out some, ah, resolutions regarding --
Scrooge suddenly notices that the Phantom has moved on down the street and
hurriedly follows it.
EXT. BAD PART OF TOWN - DUSK
Scrooge trails the Phantom, looking over this neighborhood, near sunset. The
ways are foul and narrow; the shops and houses wretched; the people half-
naked, drunken, slipshod, ugly. Alleys and archways, like so many cesspools,
disgorge their offences of smell, and dirt, and life, upon the straggling
streets; and the whole quarter reeks with crime, with filth, and misery.
INT. SHOP - NIGHT
A low-browed, beetling shop, below a pent-house roof, where iron, old rags,
bottles, bones, and greasy offal, are bought. Upon the floor within, are
piled up heaps of rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges, files, scales, weights,
and refuse iron of all kinds. Secrets that few would like to scrutinise are
bred and hidden in mountains of unseemly rags, masses of corrupted fat, and
sepulchres of bones. Sitting in among the wares he deals in, by a charcoal
stove, made of old bricks, is a grey-haired rascal, nearly seventy years of
age who smokes his pipe in all the luxury of calm retirement. This is OLD JOE.
Scrooge and the Phantom come into his presence, just as a CHARWOMAN with a
heavy bundle slinks into the shop. But she has scarcely entered, when another
woman, a LAUNDRESS, similarly laden, comes in too; and she is closely
followed by a man in faded black, an UNDERTAKER, who is no less startled by
the sight of them, than they had been upon the recognition of each other.
After a short period of blank astonishment, in which Old Joe joins them, they
all three burst into a laugh.
CHARWOMAN
(to all)
Let the charwoman alone to be the first!
Let the laundress alone to be the second;
and let the undertaker's man alone to be
the third.
(to Old Joe)
Look here, old Joe, here's a chance! If we
haven't all three met here without meaning
it!
OLD JOE
You couldn't have met in a better place.
Come into the parlour. You were made free
of it long ago, you know; and the other two
ain't strangers. Stop till I shut the door
of the shop.
He shuts the door which creaks badly.
OLD JOE
Ah! There ain't such a rusty bit of metal
in the place as its own hinges, I believe;
and I'm sure there's no such old bones here,
as mine. Ha, ha! We're all suitable to our
calling, we're well matched. Come into the
parlour. Come into the parlour.
They follow him into:
INT. THE PARLOUR
A space behind a screen of rags. Old Joe rakes the fire together with an old
stair-rod, and having trimmed his smoky lamp, with the stem of his pipe, puts
it in his mouth again. While he does this, the charwoman throws her bundle on
the floor, and sits down in a flaunting manner on a stool; crossing her
elbows on her knees, and looking with a bold defiance at the other two.
CHARWOMAN
What odds then! What odds, Mrs Dilber?
Every person has a right to take care of
themselves. He always did!
LAUNDRESS
That's true, indeed! No man more so.
CHARWOMAN
Why then, don't stand staring as if you
was afraid, woman; who's the wiser? We're
not going to pick holes in each other's
coats, I suppose?
LAUNDRESS
No, indeed!
UNDERTAKER
We should hope not.
CHARWOMAN
Very well, then! That's enough. Who's the
worse for the loss of a few things like
these? Not a dead man, I suppose.
LAUNDRESS
No, indeed!
CHARWOMAN
If he wanted to keep 'em after he was
dead, a wicked old screw, why wasn't he
natural in his lifetime? If he had been,
he'd have had somebody to look after him
when he was struck with Death, instead of
lying gasping out his last there, alone
by himself.
LAUNDRESS
It's the truest word that ever was spoke.
It's a judgment on him.
CHARWOMAN
I wish it was a little heavier judgment,
and it should have been, you may depend
upon it, if I could have laid my hands on
anything else.
(turns to Old Joe)
Open that bundle, old Joe, and let me know
the value of it. Speak out plain. I'm not
afraid to be the first, nor afraid for them
to see it. We know pretty well that we were
helping ourselves, before we met here, I
believe. It's no sin. Open the bundle, Joe.
But the undertaker mounts the breach first and produces his plunder of which
there's not much: a seal or two, a pencil-case, a pair of sleeve-buttons,
and a brooch of no great value. Old Joe examines and appraises them and then
chalks up his asking price for each, upon the wall, and adds them up into a
total.
OLD JOE
(to the undertaker)
That's your account, and I wouldn't give
another sixpence, if I was to be boiled for
not doing it. Who's next?
The laundress is next. Sheets and towels, a little wearing apparel, two old-
fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a few boots. Old Joe
chalks her account on the wall in the same manner. As he does, Scrooge turns
to the Phantom beside him.
SCROOGE
This is disgusting. I can't look at this.
Haven't you anything better to show me?
Scrooge turns his back on the group and stares at the wall.
OLD JOE
I always give too much to ladies. It's a
weakness of mine, and that's the way I ruin
myself. That's your account. If you asked
me for another penny, and made it an open
question, I'd repent of being so liberal
and knock off half-a-crown.
CHARWOMAN
And now undo my bundle, Joe.
Joe goes down on his knees for the greater convenience of opening her bundle,
and having unfastened a great many knots, drags out a large and heavy roll of
some dark stuff. It's Scrooge's bed-curtains.
OLD JOE
What do you call this? Bed-curtains?
The charwoman laughs and leans forward on her crossed arms.
CHARWOMAN
Ah! Bed-curtains!
OLD JOE
You don't mean to say you took them down,
rings and all, with him lying there?
CHARWOMAN
Yes I do. Why not?
Scrooge, still with his back to the scene, listens to this dialogue in horror.
SCROOGE
Huh! Rings and all!
OLD JOE
You were born to make your fortune, and
you'll certainly do it.
CHARWOMAN
(coolly)
I certainly shan't hold my hand, when I can
get anything in it by reaching it out, for
the sake of such a man as he was, I promise
you.
Old Joe pulls out some more material.
CHARWOMAN
Joe, don't drop that oil upon the blankets,
now.
OLD JOE
His blankets?
CHARWOMAN
Whose else's do you think? He isn't likely
to take cold without 'em, I dare say.
Old Joe stops and looks up.
OLD JOE
I hope he didn't die of anything catching?
Eh?
CHARWOMAN
Don't you be afraid of that. I ain't so
fond of his company that I'd loiter about
him for such things, if he did. Ah! you
may look through that shirt till your eyes
ache; but you won't find a hole in it, nor
a threadbare place. It's the best he had,
and a fine one too. They'd have wasted it,
if it hadn't been for me.
OLD JOE
What do you call wasting of it?
CHARWOMAN
Putting it on him to be buried in, to be
sure. Somebody was fool enough to do it,
but I took it off again. If calico ain't
good enough for such a purpose, it isn't
good enough for anything. It's quite as
becoming to the body. He can't look uglier
than he did in that one.
As they sit grouped about their spoil, in the scanty light afforded by Old
Joe's lamp, the three watch old Joe put the various items out of sight and
produce a flannel bag with money in it. He doles out payment to each.
Scrooge turns to watch.
CHARWOMAN
Ha, ha! This is the end of it, you see! He
frightened every one away from him when he
was alive, to profit us when he was dead!
Ha, ha, ha!
A sickened Scrooge turns to the Phantom.
SCROOGE
Spirit! I see, I see. The case of this
unhappy man might be my own. My life tends
that way, now. That is the lesson I am to
draw from this poor man's fate, is it not?
The Phantom, as if in anger at Scrooge's stupidity, violently lashes out --
spreading its dark robe over Scrooge, momentarily blinding him -- then whips
the robe away to reveal:
INT. DARK ROOM
Scrooge finds himself in a dark room, almost touching a bed: a bare,
uncurtained bed.
SCROOGE
Merciful Heaven, what is this?
The room is very dark, too dark to be observed with any accuracy, though
Scrooge glances 'round it, anxious to know what kind of room it was. A pale
light, rising in the outer air, falls straight upon the bed; and on it,
plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared for, is the body of a man.
NARRATOR
(voice over)
Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set
up thine altar here, and dress it with such
terrors as thou hast at thy command: for
this is thy dominion! But of the loved,
revered, and honoured head, thou canst not
turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make
one feature odious. It is not that the hand
is heavy and will fall down when released;
it is not that the heart and pulse are still;
but that the hand was open, generous, and true;
the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the
pulse a man's. Strike, Shadow, strike! And
see his good deeds springing from the wound,
to sow the world with life immortal.
Under the voice over: Scrooge glances towards the Phantom. Its steady hand
points to the covered head. Scrooge hesitantly approaches the dead man and
attempts to uncover its face. But he cannot bring himself to do so. His
hand shakes and he backs away. A cat meows somewhere in the dark. Scrooge,
his face dripping with sweat, turns to the Phantom.
SCROOGE
Spirit! This is a fearful place. In leaving
it, I shall not leave its lesson, trust me.
Let us go!
Still the Phantom points with an unmoved finger to the head.
SCROOGE
I understand you and I would look at this
dead man's face, if I could. But I have
not the power, Spirit. I have not the power.
The Phantom seems to look upon him.
SCROOGE
If there is any person in the town, who
feels emotion caused by this man's death,
show that person to me, Spirit, I beseech
you!
The light that falls from above instantly flashes, momentarily blinding
Scrooge. When his eyes clear:
INT. BRIGHT ROOM - DAY
Scrooge stands in a room by daylight, where a mother and her children sit.
The children play quietly. The mother looks out the window; glances at the
clock, and tries, but in vain, to work with her needle. At the sound of a
knock, she hurries to the door, and meets her husband; a man whose face,
though young, is careworn and depressed. There is a remarkable expression in
it now; a kind of serious delight of which he feels ashamed, and which he
struggles to repress.
SHE
Tell me the news.
He appears embarrassed how to answer.
SHE
Is it good ... or bad?
HE
Bad.
SHE
We are quite ruined?
HE
No. There is hope yet, Caroline.
SHE
If he relents, there is. Nothing is past
hope, if such a miracle has happened.
HE
He is past relenting. He is dead.
After a long moment, the news sinks in.
SHE
(genuinely)
I am thankful in my soul to hear that.
(a little less convincingly)
May God forgive me for having said such a
thing.
She clasps her hands together in joy.
HE
When I tried to see him and obtain a
week's delay, his charwoman told me he was
ill; and what I thought was a mere excuse
to avoid me, turns out to have been quite
true. He was not only very ill, but dying,
then.
SHE
To whom will our debt be transferred?
HE
I don't know. But before that time we shall
be ready with the money; and even though we
were not, it would be a bad fortune indeed
to find so merciless a creditor in his
successor. We may sleep to-night with light
hearts, Caroline!
Their hearts are clearly lighter. The children's faces, hushed and clustered
round to hear what they so little understood, are brighter; Standing in the
sunlight, next to a window, Scrooge slowly turns to the Phantom.
SCROOGE
So ... it's a happier house for this man's
death! Is that the only emotion you can
show me -- pleasure?
(beat)
But then I don't suppose one can find much
tenderness connected with a death?
The Phantom reaches up and pulls down the window-shade, blocking the sun,
darkening the room. The Phantom releases the shade and it snaps up and out
of view to reveal a night sky and the reflection of a lit fireplace in the
glass. Scrooge looks at the glass a moment before turning to see where he
is.
INT. BOB CRATCHIT'S HOME - NIGHT
Mrs. Cratchit and the children sit round the fire. Quiet. Very quiet. The
noisy little Cratchits are as still as statues in one corner, and sit looking
up at Peter, who has a book before him. The mother and her daughters sew.
PETER
(reads aloud)
... He shall cover thee with his feathers,
and under his wings shalt thou trust: his
truth shall be thy shield and buckler.
Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by
night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
Nor for the pestilence that walketh in
darkness; nor for the destruction that
wasteth at noonday. A thousand shall fall
at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right
hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.
Because thou hast made the Lord, which is
my refuge, even the most High, thy
habitation; There shall no evil befall
thee, neither shall any plague come nigh
thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels
charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy
ways. Because he hath set his love upon
me, therefore will I deliver him: I will
set him on high, because he hath known my
name. He shall call upon me, and I will
answer him: I will be with him in trouble;
I will deliver him, and honour him....
Peter looks up to see Mrs Cratchit lay her work upon the table and put her
hand up to her face.
PETER
Shall I stop reading?
MRS. CRATCHIT
No, no. It's only the colour. It hurts my
eyes.
Scrooge is puzzled by this: he peers intently at the group. Black is the
colour of the material in the women's hands. Mrs. Cratchit regains her
composure.
MRS. CRATCHIT
They're better now again. It makes them weak
by candle-light; and I wouldn't show weak
eyes to your father when he comes home, for
the world. It must be near his time.
PETER
Past it rather. But I think he has walked a
little slower than he used to these last
few evenings, mother.
Peter shuts his Bible. They are very quiet again. A long pause, and then Mrs
Cratchit speaks in a steady, cheerful voice, that only faulters once.
MRS. CRATCHIT
I have known him walk with -- I have known
him walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder,
very fast indeed.
PETER
And so have I. Often.
MRS. CRATCHIT
But he was very light to carry, and his
father loved him so, that it was no trouble:
no trouble.
A noise stirs her.
MRS. CRATCHIT
And there is your father at the door!
Bob in his comforter comes in -- alone. As the family greets him with his cup
of tea in an unusually subdued fashion, it finally dawns on Scrooge what has
happened.
SCROOGE
Oh, my God...
The Phantom makes no move. Scrooge watches as the Cratchit family draws
about the fire; Peter tries to read silently to himself; the girls and mother
return to their sewing; Bob sips his tea.
BOB CRATCHIT
(pleasantly)
I ran into Mr. Scrooge's nephew in the
street today. He thought I looked a little
-- just a little down, you know -- and he
inquired as to what had happened to distress
me. On which, for he is the pleasantest-spoken
gentleman you ever heard, I told him. "I am
heartily sorry for it, Mr Cratchit," he said,
"and heartily sorry for your good wife."
(pause)
By the bye, how he ever knew that, I don't
know.
MRS. CRATCHIT
Knew what?
BOB CRATCHIT
Why, that you were a good wife.
Mrs. Cratchit smiles.
PETER
Everybody knows that.
BOB CRATCHIT
I hope they do. "Heartily sorry," he said,
"for your good wife. If I can be of service
to you in any way, be sure to let me know"
-- and he handed me his card. Now, it wasn't
for the sake of anything he might be able to
do for us, so much as for his kind way, that
this was quite delightful. It really seemed
as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt
with us.
MRS. CRATCHIT
I'm sure he's a good soul.
BOB CRATCHIT
You would be surer of it, if you saw and
spoke to him. I shouldn't be at all surprised
if he got Peter a better situation.
MRS. CRATCHIT
Hear that, Peter?
MARTHA
And then, Peter will be keeping company with
someone, and setting up for himself.
PETER
(grins)
Get along with you!
BOB CRATCHIT
(to Peter)
It's just as likely as not, one of these
days; though there's plenty of time for
that.
(to all)
But however and whenever we part from one
another, I am sure we shall none of us
forget poor Tiny Tim -- shall we? -- or
this first parting that there was among
us?
THE CHILDREN
(ad-lib)
Never, father! No. Of course not.
BOB CRATCHIT
And I know... I know that when we recollect
how patient and how mild he was; although
he was a little, little child; we shall not
quarrel easily among ourselves, and forget
poor Tiny Tim in doing it.
THE CHILDREN
(ad-lib)
No, never, father! That's right.
BOB CRATCHIT
(at the point of tears)
I am very happy. I am very happy.
Mrs Cratchit kisses him, his daughters kiss him, the two young Cratchits kiss
him, and Peter shakes his hand. Bob abruptly leaves the room, and goes
upstairs. The family members look at one another with concern.
INT. UPSTAIRS ROOM
A bedroom, cheerfully lit, and hung with Christmas decorations. Bob enters
hesitantly and sits down in a chair close to the bed. After he composes
himself with an unspoken prayer, he leans over and kisses the face of Tiny
Tim, whose body we now see stretched out, lifeless, on the bed. Bob breaks
down all at once.
BOB CRATCHIT
(nearly inaudible)
My little, little child. My little child.
Scrooge watches grimly from the far side of the room. The Phantom stands
beside him. Scrooge shuts his eyes.
SCROOGE
(to the Phantom)
Tell me what man that was whom we saw lying
dead.
When Scrooge opens his eyes...
EXT. LONDON STREET
Scrooge and the Phantom are halfway between Scrooge's counting-house and the
church tower opposite it. The Phantom leads Scrooge toward the church. But
Scrooge, seeing the counting-house, grasps the Phantom's robe.
SCROOGE
Wait. That is where my place of occupation
is, and has been for a length of time. Let
me behold what I shall be, in days to come.
The Phantom stops; the hand points elsewhere.
SCROOGE
My office is yonder. Why do you point away?
The inexorable finger undergoes no change.
SCROOGE
Just wait a moment, please.
Scrooge rushes off.
EXT. COUNTING-HOUSE
Scrooge nervously hastens to the window of his office, and looks in. It's an
office still, but not his. The furniture is not the same, and the figure in
the chair is not himself.
EXT. LONDON STREET
The Phantom points as before. Scrooge joins the Phantom once again, confused,
and accompanies it until they reach an iron gate. He pauses to look round
before entering.
EXT. THE CHURCH YARD
A row of gravestones. Walled in by houses; overrun by grass and weeds. The
Phantom stands among the graves, and points down to One. Scrooge advances
towards it, trembling. Then stops.
SCROOGE
Before I draw nearer to that stone to which
you point, answer me one question. Are these
the shadows of the things that Will be, or
are they shadows of things that May be, only?
Still the Phantom points downward to the grave by which it stands.
SCROOGE
Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends,
to which, if persevered in, they must lead.
But if the courses be departed from, the
ends will change. Say it is thus with what
you show me!
The Phantom is immovable as ever. Scrooge creeps toward the grave, trembling;
and following the finger, reads upon the stone of the neglected grave his own
name, Ebenezer Scrooge. Scrooge falls to his knees.
SCROOGE
Am I that man who lay upon the bed?
The finger points from the grave to Scrooge, and back again.
SCROOGE
No, Spirit! Oh no, no!
The finger still is there. Scrooge scrambles to his feet and clutches the
Phantom's robe.
SCROOGE
Spirit! Hear me! I am not the man I was.
I will not be the man I must have been but
for this intervention. Why show me this,
if I am past all hope?
For the first time, the hand appears to shake. Scrooge falls down before it,
sobbing violently, his face wet with tears.
SCROOGE
Good Spirit. Your nature intercedes for
me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may
change these shadows you have shown me, by
an altered life!
The kind hand trembles.
SCROOGE
I will honour Christmas in my heart, and
try to keep it all the year. I will live
in the Past, the Present, and the Future.
The Spirits of all Three shall strive within
me. I will not shut out the lessons that they
teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the
writing on this stone!
In his agony, as he catches the spectral hand, Scrooge sees an alteration in
the Phantom's hood and dress. It shrinks, collapses, and dwindles down into a
bedpost.
INT. SCROOGE'S BED-ROOM
Yes! and the bedpost is his own. Scrooge lets go of the post and scrambles
out of bed, falling to his knees. He is out of his mind, babbling like a
lunatic.
SCROOGE
I will live in the Past, the Present, and
the Future! The Spirits of all Three shall
strive within me. Oh Jacob Marley! Heaven,
and the Christmas Time be praised for this!
I say it on my knees, old Jacob; on my
knees!
Scrooge folds a bed-curtain over his arm.
SCROOGE
They are not torn down. They are not torn
down, rings and all. They are here: I am
here: the shadows of the things that would
have been, may be dispelled. They will be.
I know they will!
Scrooge's hands are busy with his garments all this time: turning them inside
out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mislaying them, etc. He
laughs and cries in the same breath, stumbling out of the bed-room.
INT. SCROOGE'S SITTING-ROOM
Scrooge stands there: perfectly winded.
SCROOGE
I don't know what to do! I am as light as
a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am
as merry as a school-boy. I am as giddy as
a drunken man. A merry Christmas to every-
body! A happy New Year to all the world!
Hallo here! Whoop! Hallo!
Scrooge starts off again, going round the fire-place.
SCROOGE
There's the saucepan that the gruel was in!
There's the door, by which the Ghost of
Jacob Marley entered! There's the corner
where the Ghost of Christmas Present, sat!
There's the window where I saw the wandering
Spirits! It's all right, it's all true,
it all happened. Ha ha ha!
Really, for a man who has been out of practice for so many years, it's a
splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long line of
brilliant laughs.
SCROOGE
I don't know what day of the month it is!
I don't know how long I've been among the
Spirits. I don't know anything. I'm quite
a baby. Never mind. I don't care. I'd
rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop! Hallo
here!
He pauses as the church bell rings out the hour. Scrooge starts babbling
along with it.
SCROOGE
Clash, clang, hammer, ding, dong, bell!
Bell, dong, ding, hammer, clang, clash!
Oh, glorious, glorious!
He runs to the window, hurls it open, and looks out.
EXT. SCROOGE'S BUILDING - DAY
Not a trace of fog or darkness. Golden sunlight; Heavenly blue sky; merry
bells. Not too many people on the street.
SCROOGE
Oh, glorious. Glorious!
Scrooge spots a BOY IN SUNDAY CLOTHES, loitering on the sidewalk below.
SCROOGE
What's to-day?
BOY IN SUNDAY CLOTHES
Eh?
SCROOGE
What's to-day, my fine fellow?
BOY IN SUNDAY CLOTHES
To-day? Why, Christmas Day.
SCROOGE
(to himself)
It's Christmas Day! I haven't missed it.
The Spirits have done it all in one night.
They can do anything they like. Of course
they can. Of course they can.
(to the boy)
Hallo, my fine fellow!
BOY IN SUNDAY CLOTHES
Hallo!
SCROOGE
Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next
street but one, at the corner?
BOY IN SUNDAY CLOTHES
I should hope I did.
SCROOGE
(to himself)
An intelligent boy! A remarkable boy!
(to the boy)
Do you know whether they've sold the prize
Turkey that was hanging up there? Not the
little prize Turkey; the big one?
BOY IN SUNDAY CLOTHES
What, the one as big as me?
SCROOGE
(to himself)
What a delightful boy! It's a pleasure to
talk to him.
(to the boy)
Yes, my buck!
BOY IN SUNDAY CLOTHES
It's hanging there now.
SCROOGE
Is it? Go and buy it.
The boy stares in disbelief for a moment, then thumbs his nose at Scrooge in
disgust.
BOY IN SUNDAY CLOTHES
Walk-er!
SCROOGE
No, no, I am in earnest. Go and buy it,
and tell 'em to bring it here, that I may
give them the directions where to take it.
Come back with the man, and I'll give you
a shilling. Come back with him in less than
five minutes, and I'll give you
half-a-crown!
The boy takes off running down the street.
INT. SCROOGE'S SITTING-ROOM
Scrooge rubs his hands and laughs. He writes Bob Cratchit's address on a slip
of paper with an unsteady hand.
SCROOGE
I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's! He sha'n't
know who sends it. It's twice the size of
Tiny Tim. Joe Miller never made such a joke
as sending it to Bob's will be!
EXT. SCROOGE'S BUILDING
Moments later, Scrooge opens the street door, ready for the coming of the
poulterer's man. As he stands there, with the slip of paper in his hand, the
knocker catches his eye. He pats it with his hand.
SCROOGE
I shall love it, as long as I live! I
scarcely ever looked at it before. What an
honest expression it has in its face! It's
a wonderful knocker!
The boy and the POULTERER'S MAN arrive with a gigantic turkey.
SCROOGE
(to the knocker)
Here's the Turkey.
(to the turkey-bearers)
Hallo! Whoop! How are you! Merry Christmas!
Scrooge inspects the turkey -- it never could have stood upon its legs, that
bird. It would have snapped 'em short off in a minute, like sticks of
sealing-wax.
SCROOGE
Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden
Town. You must have a cab.
Scrooge chuckles as he says this, and we go into a
CHRISTMAS DAY MONTAGE
Scrooge chuckles as he pays for the Turkey, chuckles as he pays for the cab,
chuckles as he recompenses the boy, chuckles as he sits down breathless in
his sitting-room chair again, and chuckles till he cries.
Scrooge shaves at his wash-basin. His hand shakes very much; partly because
he is laughing and dancing with joy. At one point, he nicks himself and
laughs even harder.
Out in the street, Scrooge is dressed in his Sunday best. By this time,
crowds pour forth, as he had seen them with the Ghost of Christmas Present;
Walking with his hands behind him, Scrooge regards every one with a delighted
smile. He looks so irresistibly pleasant that three or four good-humoured
fellows say, "Good morning, sir! A merry Christmas to you!" Scrooge reacts
as if these are the sweetest sounds he's ever heard and returns the greeting.
Farther down the street, Scrooge suddenly tenses up. Coming on towards him
he sees the portly gentleman, who had walked into his counting-house the day
before, and said, "Scrooge and Marley's, I believe?" Scrooge slows down for a
moment, then resolves himself to what he must do. He quickens his pace and
takes the gentleman by both his hands.
SCROOGE
My dear sir. How do you do? I hope you
succeeded yesterday. It was very kind of
you. A merry Christmas to you, sir!
1st GENTLEMAN
Mr Scrooge?
SCROOGE
Yes. That is my name, and I fear it may
not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your
pardon. And will you have the goodness --
Scrooge whispers in his ear. The gentleman reacts as if his breath were gone.
1st GENTLEMAN
Lord bless me! My dear Mr Scrooge, are
you serious?
SCROOGE
If you please. Not a farthing less. A great
many back-payments are included in it, I
assure you. Will you do me that favour?
1st GENTLEMAN
(shakes Scrooge's hand)
My dear sir. I don't know what to say to
such munificence.
SCROOGE
Don't say anything, please. Come and see me.
Will you come and see me?
1st GENTLEMAN
I will!
SCROOGE
Thank 'ee. I am much obliged to you. I
thank you fifty times. Bless you!
CHRISTMAS DAY MONTAGE CONTINUES
Several views of Scrooge in church. It's been years since his last visit and
he looks around nervously upon entering. During the singing of a hymn,
everyone knows the words by heart, save Scrooge -- who rapidly thumbs
through a hymn-book, until the little boy sitting on his right hands him his
own hymn-book opened to the correct page, whereupon Scrooge nods to him in
thanks. Later, Scrooge pulls out a huge wad of bills and puts entirely too
much money in the collection plate before handing it to the astonished woman
on his left -- and upon seeing her startled look, he hastily removes a few
more bills from the wad and places them in the plate with an impish grin.
Scrooge walks about the streets, watches the people hurrying to and fro, pats
children on the head, questions beggars, looks down into the kitchens of
houses, up into the windows: and finds that all these things yield him
pleasure.
EXT. HOUSE - NIGHT
In a nice part of town. Scrooge paces uncertainly outside. He slowly
approaches the front door but at the last moment, he returns to the sidewalk.
Finally, he takes a deep breath, finds the courage to go up and knock, and
makes a dash for it. He knocks and stands there, tight-lipped and shaking
nervously. No answer. He begins to leave. A maid opens the door.
SCROOGE
Is your master at home, my dear?
MAID
Yes, sir.
SCROOGE
Where is he, my love?
MAID
He's in the sitting-room, sir, along with
mistress. I'll show you in, if you please.
INT. HOUSE
The maid leads Scrooge to the closed sitting-room door.
SCROOGE
Thank 'ee. He knows me. I'll go just in,
my dear.
Scrooge crosses to the sitting-room and tenses up as he puts his hand on the
doorknob. The maid sees this and watches Scrooge curiously. Scrooge looks up
to see her staring at him. From his face, it's clear to her that he is
scared to enter and she gives him a reassuring nod and smile. Scrooge
returns the smile and, taking a deep breath, he turns the doorknob gently and
sidles his face in, round the door.
INT. HIS NEPHEW'S SITTING-ROOM
Scrooge sees his nephew Fred surrounded by his party guests -- all laughing a
long, hearty laugh, exactly as Scrooge had heard it when with the Spirit.
FRED
He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I
live! He believed it too!
SCROOGE
Fred!
Scrooge flings the door open and startles his niece who is, as before,
sitting in the chair in the corner right by the door. Scrooge is at once
apologetic and turns to her.
SCROOGE
Oh, I'm so sorry. I forgot you were there.
She doesn't know quite what to make of that. Scrooge's back is momentarily
turned toward his nephew who gazes on him in disbelief.
FRED
Why bless my soul! Who's that?
Scrooge turns around to face his astonished nephew, then nervously threads
his way through the guests to confront him.
SCROOGE
It's I. Your uncle Scrooge.
An awkward pause ensues as everyone merely stares at Scrooge -- a skunk at a
garden party. He realizes he must try to break the ice.
SCROOGE
(flawlessly imitates The Plump Sister)
It's your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!
Scrooge flashes a happy grin. The guests stare at him in confusion. He
grows immediately sober.
SCROOGE
(to Fred)
I have come as you asked. Will you let me in, Fred?
FRED
Let you in! I --
Fred bursts out laughing again and shakes Scrooge's hand so hard, it's a
mercy he doesn't take his arm off. Fred is still laughing as some of the
other guests crowd around Scrooge, greeting him, patting him on the back,
bringing him a drink. Some of the others move away from him and whisper
among themselves: Surely this isn't the Uncle Scrooge!
ONE OF THE GUESTS
(to Scrooge)
You know, I have always wanted to meet you,
Mr. Scrooge. The droll way in which your
nephew portrays you has made me curious.
I say, have you met Mister...?
One of the female guests has begun to play a simple little tune upon the
harp; and the others choose partners and take to dancing about the room.
There might be twenty people there, young and old, but they all dance.
Including, for the first time in years, Ebenezer Scrooge.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. COUNTING-HOUSE - DAY
The day after Christmas. Bright sunshine pours into Scrooge's office. All
is quiet save for the ticking of the clock -- which reads 9:18. Scrooge sits
behind his desk, grinning like a madman, with his door wide open so that he
might see Bob Cratchit come into his tank-like office. Bob bursts in, his
hat and comforter already off. He jumps on his stool in a jiffy, driving away
with his pen, as if he were trying to overtake nine o'clock. Meanwhile,
trying to suppress a grin, Scrooge manages an approximation of his old
caustic personality.
SCROOGE
Cratchit! You're late! What do you mean by
coming here at this time of day?
BOB CRATCHIT
I am very sorry, sir. I am behind my time.
SCROOGE
You are? Yes. I think you are. Step this
way, if you please.
Bob reluctantly leaves the Tank and joins Scrooge in the office.
BOB CRATCHIT
It's only once a year, sir. It shall not
be repeated. I was making rather merry
yesterday, sir.
SCROOGE
Now, I'll tell you what, my friend. I am
not going to stand this sort of thing any
longer. And therefore ...
Scrooge leaps from his chair, and gives Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that
he staggers back into the Tank again.
SCROOGE
... and therefore I am about to raise your
salary!
Bob gasps, trembles, and inches away from Scrooge, picking up a nearby ruler
to use in self-defense.
SCROOGE
A merry Christmas, Bob! A merrier Christmas,
Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you
for many a year!
(quietly)
I'm going to raise your salary. And if
you'll let me, I'd like to try to help your
family.
An incredulous Bob stares at Scrooge for a long, long moment.
SCROOGE
(laughs)
Well, let's discuss it this afternoon, over
a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Bob!
Make up the fires, and buy another
coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bob
Cratchit.
Scrooge grins at a still uncertain Bob Cratchit. The distant sound of
carolers singing an appropriate hymn grows louder.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. SITTING-ROOM - NIGHT
The Narrator looks down at the book in his lap, a quiet smile on his face.
Outside his window, a small group of carolers slowly approach continuing the
hymn. The young people circled around the Narrator seem edgy and
dissatisfied.
NARRATOR
And that's the story.
THE SKEPTICAL ADOLESCENT
How much of that was true?
NARRATOR
(matter-of-fact)
Well, I was there for some of it. And I
heard about some of it.
(winks)
And I made up the rest.
The children laugh.
THE SKEPTICAL ADOLESCENT
Yeah, but did old man Scrooge really keep
his word?
NARRATOR
Yes. In fact, he was better than his word.
He did everything he said he would, and
much more.
THE TEN YEAR OLD GIRL
(concerned)
What happened to Tiny Tim? Did he --?
Did he --?
NARRATOR
(reassuring)
No. Tiny Tim did not die. And Scrooge was
like a second father to him.
(a faraway look in his eye)
He became as good a friend, as good a
teacher, and as good a man, as any person
could hope to know.
The girl seems reassured.
THE SKEPTICAL ADOLESCENT
(laughs)
Oh, come on. People just don't change like
that overnight.
NARRATOR
(shrugs)
In fact, a lot of people laughed at him
when he changed, but he let them laugh,
and didn't pay any attention to it; I think
he was smart enough to know that nothing
good ever happens in this world that people
won't laugh at it -- at first. And that
it's better to make people laugh than make
them do some other things I can think of.
(beat)
His own heart laughed: and I think that was
good enough for him.
THE ADOLESCENT WHO
WISHED HE WAS AN ADULT
And do you mean to say that he had no
further intercourse with Spirits?
NARRATOR
Ah, well...
(mischievous grin)
After that, he adopted the principle of
abstinence and no Spirits ever visited him
again, as far as he knew.
The Narrator glances around at his audience but there are no more questions.
He decides to add a final word.
NARRATOR
Well... It was always said of Mr. Scrooge
that if anyone knew how to keep Christmas
well, it was him. If only that could truly
be said of us. Of all of us. Merry
Christmas.
The Narrator returns the book to the ten year old girl.
THE TEN YEAR OLD GIRL
(quietly, to herself)
... and may God Bless Us, Every One.
The Narrator smiles. Outside, the caroling has gotten steadily louder. A
tapping sound causes everyone to turn to the window, where the carolers
beckon to them. Everyone in the room hollers ("Hey!" "Look who's here!").
They rise and rush to the front door -- except for the ten year old girl who
lingers to help the Narrator to his feet. He thanks her and, hand in hand,
they follow the others to the door. For the first time, we see he carries a
cane. And limps, favoring his right leg. Could this be Tiny Tim all grown
up? They join the little crowd just outside the door -- carolers and
children -- in singing "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" or some such thing.
EXT. THE FRONT DOORSTEP
As they sing, their breath visible in the cold night air, we PAN UP and AWAY
to find ...
EXT. ROOFTOP
A spectral figure leaning over the edge of the roof, peering down, smiling at
the music. It is MARLEY'S GHOST, a look of peace and satisfaction on its no
longer glassy face. Marley turns to reveal another ghost right beside him --
Scrooge's. To the surprise of both, the chain 'round Marley's body jerks to
life and begins to unspool rapidly, falling away from him as if there were a
ship's anchor at the end of it. In a moment, the chain is gone and Marley is
free. He clutches his waist and looks himself over. And then beams at
Scrooge gratefully. Scrooge grins, then realizes something. Suddenly, he
reaches up with his left hand and removes the wrapper that keeps Marley's jaw
in place. The jaw does not drop. Marley clicks his teeth together a few
times to test them, then breaks into a broad smile. He mouths a "Thank you"
to Scrooge. The two ghosts shake hands. Scrooge looks down at the wrapper
in his hand and, with a flourish, tosses it over the edge. The two ghosts
take flight, into a night sky teeming with free spirits, as the group below
finishes singing... a Christmas carol.
FADE OUT
A long, silent pause.
FADE IN on what appears to be the FLOOR of Scrooge's room upon which rests
the extinguisher cap last seen covering the Ghost of Christmas Past. The cap
tips over and the ghost appears from under it in a dazzling burst of light.
The ghost's FACE fills the screen and, after a wink, it begins to morph into
the faces of all the featured actors. As each actor's face appears, their
credit is superimposed beneath them. The final image is of Tiny Tim in
Scrooge's arms, giving the old man a hug.
TINY TIM
(whispers)
May God bless us, every one.
The image blurs and spirals away under the extinguisher cap and suddenly all
is dark.
END CREDITS
FADE OUT