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8/24/24
As there is nothing to do at present, to promote my work to either Academia or the public, I was musing as to exactly how I will present my video blog entry for the upcoming Christmas season. It's my intention to expose one of the most obvious, and most egregious, of Charles Dickens' literary blunders, where he has butchered Abby Poyen Whittier's original text.
The problem is that nobody really cares. The public wants to immerse themselves in a feel-good experience, mostly by watching the various films of "A Christmas Carol;" and then, for those who can afford it, there are numerous theatrical productions all over the country. So far as I am aware, all but one of the films has omitted this particular scene altogether. I'm speaking of Tiny Tim's death in the unaltered future. Only one old movie included this scene, as we see, here:
And based on my searches with Google Scholar, this seems to be the overwhelming scholarly consensus, as well--that Tiny Tim's body is lying in state, in the Cratchit home.
But it's logically impossible, or if not absolutely impossible, logically improbable to the extreme. It would require the absurdity that for several days, with Tiny Tim's body slowly rotting (and beginning to smell) in a room upstairs which is cheerfully decorated for Christmas, Tiny Tim's body is lying in state, while Bob, himself, lingers at the as-yet unused grave, avoiding going home to his grieving family. The key, here, is the length of time. The word "few," in English, always connotes at least three, and probably more--but, definitely, three:
“They’re better now again,” said Cratchit’s wife. “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.”
“Past it rather,” Peter answered, shutting up his book. “But I think he has walked a little slower than he used, these few last evenings, mother.”
So we have established that Bob Cratchit has been "walking slower" coming home from work "these last few evenings." But then we find out what he has been doing, and what has made him late:
“Sunday! You went to-day, then, Robert?” said his wife.
“Yes, my dear,” returned Bob. “I wish you could have gone. It would have done you good to see how green a place it is. But you’ll see it often. I promised him that I would walk there on a Sunday. My little, little child!” cried Bob. “My little child!”
So what has made him late, is not just slow walking, but that he has been to visit Tiny Tim's grave.
Now, note the logic, here. He has promised Tiny Tim that he would visit his grave on Sunday, and the inference is that this is a Sunday. But he would not be coming home from work late, on a Sunday. So this evening, he has been to visit Tiny Tim's grave, as promised, on a Sunday, not on his way home from work. But he would not have promised Tiny Tim to visit the unused grave on a Sunday, before Tiny Tim's body was interred in it, while Tiny Tim's body had been lying in state upstairs for a "few days."
See that?
People did not have the body lying in state in an upstairs room. They had it lying in state in the parlor. And three days was pushing it, for obvious reasons--three days being our minimum, based on Peter's use of the word "few."
Bob would have to be a very selfish fellow, indeed, to hang out at a pleasant unused gravesite, to postpone coming home to his grieving family and his son's as-yet unburied corpse--using, as his excuse, that he had promised his son to visit the grave on Sundays.
This whole thing has been butchered--carelessly, sloppily, disrespectfully butchered. Now we have Bob Cratchit, as all have interpreted, going upstairs to sit by the side of his son's corpse, which is at least three days dead. And how does he reconcile himself to the situation, according to Charles Dickens? In the most absurdly trite way one could imagine. Remember, this is supposed to be a great author, a literary genius, a great humanitarian, and a master at character development:
He left the room, and went up-stairs into the room above, which was lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas. There was a chair set close beside the child, and there were signs of some one having been there, lately. Poor Bob sat down in it, and when he had thought a little and composed himself, he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to what had happened, and went down again quite happy.
Any sixth grader could write better than that.
Dickens has given this transformation three sentences. Do you know how long I would estimate that Abby's original was? Probably about a page and a half.
If you haven't guessed (or you haven't read my commentary on this passage, before), I'll tell you what this was, originally. Tiny Tim's body is in his grave, as we would naturally assume. Bob Cratchit has promised Tiny Tim to visit his grave on Sundays, but in fact, he has been doing so for the last several days. The room upstairs which is "lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas," is the family shrine. In it, is the family creche, the centerpiece of this Catholic family's Christmas room; and there, is the figurine of the Christ Child in the manger. Bob Cratchit, a good Catholic, goes upstairs to the family shrine to pray to the figurine of the baby Jesus. This goes on for roughly a page and a half, as Abby has Bob struggling with his grief and doubts--wrestling with the deepest questions of humanity in its relationship with God and mortality. Finally, he finds peace by accepting God's Will in the matter, and "kisses the tiny face." This face is not the corpse of Tiny Tim, but the tiny face of the figurine, which is probably about one quarter life-size.
Dickens has deliberately and knowingly secularized this scene, by rendering the word "child" in lower case, and stripping it of all references to either Jesus or Catholic worship. And note the following:
There was a chair set close beside the child, and there were signs of some one having been there, lately.
This is Abby's way of telling us that this is a Catholic household of faith, each member of whom, in turn, had been praying to the figurine of the Christ Child.*
Dickens would have been re-working this chapter feverishly, being toward the end of the novella, when he was already past his deadline. He had to publish before the close of the Christmas season, and he barely made it by December 19th. So he was in a big hurry. He just slashed out a page and a half of Abby's most powerful writing, and tied the ends together so that it gave the macabre impression that Bob Cratchit is kissing Tiny Tim's three-day-old corpse upstairs. And after Bob does that, he's just fine. No problem.
This is the same plagiarist who re-worked the Ghost of Christmas Present into a bare-chested giant literally sitting on a throne made of steaming meat dishes (read the original).
Dickens was a coarse, worldly person (whatever part he played for the public, and even for his own family). It was from Abby Poyen Whittier and Mathew Franklin Whittier--but especially, Abby--that the brilliance, spirituality, and compassion of "A Christmas Carol" originated. But what is it going to take for me to get through to people? I feel like I am trying to break through the Rock of Gibraltar with a hammer and chisel...
Best regards,
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
*Abby, though a mystic who respected many different paths to God, was raised French Catholic.
