Hello friends,
In December of 1868, The Atlantic published a review of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. The book was not new – it had originally been published December 19, 1843 (and the first edition sold out entirely by Christmas Eve, requiring twelve more editions to be published within the next year alone). Between 1849 and 1870, Dickens performed public readings of the novella well over a hundred times. It had already become a staple of English literature, revisited every year by untold readers. In the year of its twenty-fifth anniversary, our reviewer wrote:
“To follow old Scrooge through the ordeal of loving discipline whereby the ghosts arouse his heart is to be warmed in every fibre of mind and body with the gentle, bountiful, ardent, affectionate Christmas glow. … As you turn its magical pages, you hear the midnight moaning of the winter wind, the soft rustle of the falling snow, the rattle of the hail on naked branch and window-pane and the far-off tumult of tempest-smitten seas; but also there comes a vision of snug and cosey rooms, close-curtained from night and storm, wherein the lights burn brightly, and the sound of merry music mingles with the sound of merrier laughter, and all is warmth and kindness and happy content, and, looking on these pictures, you feel the full reality of cold and want and sorrow as contrasted with warmth and comfort, and recognize anew the sacred duty of striving, by all possible means, to give to every human being a cheerful home and a happy fireside.”
It really is such a beautiful review, and a beautiful sentiment besides. This evocation of the way we turn towards warmth and fellowship at the end of the year, at the way we are reminded to care for the people around us, will always feel timely and appropriate.
Amusingly, A Christmas Carol came out of a tradition of yuletide ghost stories. Gathering around the fire in the long nights of winter to tell spooky stories is so long-lasting a pastime that I think historians would be hard-pressed to actually put a date on it. And it was particularly prevalent in the 19th century. In his 1820 essay “A Christmas Dinner,” Washington Irving recounted this scene from a visit to England over the holidays:
“When I returned to the drawing-room, I found the company seated round the fire, listening to the parson, who was deeply ensconced in a high-backed oaken chair, the work of some cunning artificer of yore, which had been brought from the library for his particular accommodation. From this venerable piece of furniture, with which his shadowy figure and dark, weazen face so admirably accorded, he was dealing out strange accounts of popular superstitions and legends of the surrounding country, with which he had become acquainted in the course of his antiquarian researches.”
The parson proceeds to regale them stories of the ghost of a knight that haunts the nearby countryside, which sounds like a fun and cozy way to spend a winter’s evening! Plenty of other authors took up their pens for ghost stories to enliven their winter evenings. Elizabeth Gaskell, usually remembered for her novels Cranford and North and South, wrote a truly unsettling ghost story called “The Old Nurse’s Tale,” which was published by Charles Dickens in the Christmas edition of his Household Words magazine. The British medievalist M.R. James wrote a yearly ghost story to be shared with his friends on Christmas Eve, before eventually publishing the tales. There is something about the cold and dark of the weather, and the spookiness of the stories, that makes it all the more cozy and pleasant to come together around a source of warmth and laugh the darkness away.
Dickens took those contrasts, and transformed them into a deeply humane and compassionate version of the tradition. The ghosts are no longer the threat – they are just a reminder of what has come before, and what is likely to come after. Instead, the dangers come from losing sight of compassion, from forgetting about the importance of the people around us and the duty of care we owe to one another. And somehow, despite all of this, he managed to make it not a grim screed against mankind, but a warm and joyful story that reminds us to be kind. That warmth, comfort, and kindness continue to speak to people today. It is, as our friend from The Atlantic said, one of those rare books that is “for all time.” And, that feeling – the sense of being welcome, of offering community and aid and warmth in spite of the chill of winter – is exactly what we try to cultivate here at the Library, regardless of the season.
To that end: let me remind you that you are always welcome here, and our resources – whether physical or social – are at your disposal. I hope you are having a wonderful day.
Cheers,
Meghan
Meghan Hawkes
Communications Director
Skidompha Public Library