It may be the most loved Christmas Story ever written. Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol was a bestseller when it was published in 1843, and has never been out of print. It has inspired hundreds of stage and film adaptations and has influenced the way people around the world view Christmas. Dickens wrote four other Christmas books in the years following, yet none of them had the same impact. What makes A Christmas Carol so special?
In February of 1843, Charles Dickens and his friend the Baroness Burdett-Coutts became interested in the Ragged Schools, a system of religiously-inspired schools for the poorest children in Britain. Bourdett-Coutts had been asked donate to them, and she requested that Dickens visit the school at Saffron Hill and report back to her. The author, having experienced poverty and child labour himself, was deeply concerned with its elimination, and believed that education was an important way to achieve this. But he was shocked by what he saw at Saffron Hill. “I have seldom seen”, he wrote to Bourdett-Coutts, “in all the strange and dreadful things I have seen in London and elsewhere, anything so shocking as the dire neglect of soul and body exhibited in these children” (Mackenzie, Dickens, pp. 143-44).
All that year the Saffron Hill children stayed in Dickens’ mind, and he briefly considered writing a journalistic piece on their plight. Then in October, while visiting a workingmen’s educational institute in Manchester, he suddenly thought of a way to address in fiction his concerns about poverty & greed, and A Christmas Carol was born. Once back in London, Dickens began writing “at a white heat” (ODNB), telling his friend Cornelius Felton that while composing he “wept and laughed and wept again, and excited himself in a most extraordinary manner… and thinking whereof he walked about the black streets of London, fifteen and twenty miles many a night when all the sober folks had gone to bed” (Letters of Charles Dickens, Macmillan & Co., 1893, pp. 101-02).
It was a deeply personal and cathartic experience. Though Dickens hoped to elicit concern for poor children, represented in the story by Tiny Tim, he also wrote from a darker place. He had grown up poor and was still acutely conscious of money, never feeling comfortable that he had enough (one of the reasons he wrote A Christmas Carol was to increase his earnings during a slow period). And yet he distrusted the instinct to hoard it, and donated much to the needy. It was from these anxieties that he created Ebenezer Scrooge, one of the greatest examples of redemption in all of literature, with a life story remarkably similar to Dickens’. Scrooge is Dickens imagining “what he once was and what he might have become” (Ackroyd, Dickens, p. 412).
Dickens finished writing in only six weeks, though he was also working on Martin Chuzzlewit, and celebrated “like a madman” (Letters, p. 102). He arranged with Chapman & Hall to publish the story on a commission basis, giving him the freedom to design the book to his own high standards. Bound in pinkish-brown cloth, it included elaborate gilt designs on the cover and spine, as well as gilt edges, hand-coloured green endpapers (which were later changed to yellow because the green tended to rub off), four coloured etchings, and four uncoloured engravings. Despite the expense of printing and binding such a volume, the price was set at a low five shillings, which contributed to its popularity.
A copy of the first edition of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens (1843).
As soon as it appeared, A Christmas Carol was “a sensational success… greeted with almost universal delight” (ODNB). William Makepeace Thackeray called it, “a national benefit and to every man or woman who reads it a personal kindness” (Fraser’s Magazine, February 1844). Published only a week before Christmas, six thousand copies sold by Christmas Eve, with sales continuing into the New Year and a pirated edition also selling briskly, much to Dickens’ dismay.
A Christmas Carol struck such a chord because it was informed by Dickens’ own troubled life, his ambivalence toward the wealth he was accruing as a successful author, and his deeply held beliefs about goodness, charity, and the sin of institutionalized poverty. His skill as an author was drawing from the world around him, and from within himself, universal themes that have resonated with millions of readers across the years. Indeed, there seems to be something for almost everyone, at every time, in this little book. As the novelist and biographer Peter Ackroyd put it,
A Christmas Carol takes its place among other pieces of radical literature in the same period… But clearly, too, there are many religious motifs which give the book its particular seasonal spirit; not only the Christmas of parties and dancing but also the Christmas of mercy and love… But it combined all these things within a narrative which has all the fancy of a fairy tale and all the vigor of a Dickensian narrative. There was instruction for those who wished to find it at the time of this religious festival, but there was also enough entertainment to render it perfect ‘holiday reading’; it is rather as if Dickens had rewritten a religious tract and filled it both with his own memories and with all the concerns of the period. He had, in other words, created a modern fairy story. And so it has remained. (Ackroyd, p. 413.)
There are many great YouTube clips from film versions of A Christmas Carol. Here’s Patrick Stewart in his acclaimed role as Scrooge, in this scene meeting Marley’s ghost for the first time. And, wonderfully, the 1935 film starring Seymour Hicks is available in its entirety.
Illustration from The Metropolis of Tomorrow by Hugh Ferriss. The first edition, 1929.
During the early 20th century, particularly the 1920s and 30s, the United States saw an explosion in the construction of new skyscrapers, as advances in steel and concrete technology allowed architects to stretch their imaginations and build larger and higher than ever before. It was in this fevered rush to remake whole cities that architectural draughtsman Hugh Ferriss (1889–1962) became “the most brilliant exponent of the American skyscraper”.
Though Ferriss had an architecture degree he chose to spend most of his career as a delineator, an artist who creates renderings of other architect’s designs for the purposes of advertising and city planning. Ferriss developed a unique style, using chiaroscuro to depict brooding, monumental structures that gave his cityscapes an alien feel. By the mi-1920s he was in great demand and worked with the most important architects of the period, rendering the Lincoln Center, the Rockefeller Center, the New York Times Building, and the Chicago Tribune Tower, among others. Ferriss’ renderings also appealed to the general public, and many were published in lifestyle magazines such as Harper’s and Vanity Fair. His work continues to inspire architects and city planners, as well as artists, filmmakers, and comic book creators.
In 1929 Ferriss’ popularity allowed him to publish The Metropolis of Tomorrow, a collection of his renderings as well as his thoughts on the future of architecture and city planning. We recently obtained the copy depicted here, which still has the rare original dust jacket. Below, a selection of images and text from the book.
First edition of The Metropolis of Tomorrow by Hugh Ferris.
The Metropolis of Tomorrow is divided into three sections. The first depicts buildings that had already been planned or constructed, including the Chicago Tribune Building:
Chicago Tribune Building. The Metropolis of Tomorrow by Hugh Ferris.
The New York Daily News Building:
Lobby of the New York Daily News Building. Hugh Ferris, The Metropolis of Tomorrow.
and The Chrysler Building:
The Chrysler Building in the final stages of construction. Hugh Ferris, The Metropolis of Tomorrow.
In the second section, Ferriss discusses the evolution of skyscrapers based on contemporary trends in urban planning. New York City and other municipalities had recently established laws regarding the heights and volumes of skyscrapers to prevent them monopolising the sky. This usually involved the incorporation of set-backs, the requirement that at certain heights the building lose some of its width to allow light and air to reach smaller buildings and the streets below. In this famous series of four renderings, Ferriss demonstrates the new zoning requirements for skyscrapers and how architects incorporate them into their designs:
This drawing above is “a representation of the maximum mass which, under the Zoning Law, it would be permissible to build over an entire city block. The block is assumed to be two hundred by six hundred feet. The building rises vertically on the lot lines only so far as it is allowed by law (in this case, twice the width of adjoining streets).
Above this, it slopes inward at specified angles. A tower rises, as is permitted, to an unlimited height, being in area, not over one fourth the area of the property. It must be understood that the mass thus delineated is not an architect’s design; it is simply a form which results from legal specifications… It is a crude form which he has to model” (Hugh Ferriss, Metropolis of Tomorrow, p. 74).
“The first step which is taken by the architect is to cut into the mass to admit light into the interior… in contemplating the original mass, it was obvious that it contained great interior volumes which were inaccessible to light. he therefore cut out such portions – such ‘light courts’ – as would admit natural light throughout” (Ferriss, p. 74).
“The form as last seen presented certain peculiarities which, from a practical point of view, are unacceptable… such decidedly sloping planes as these are alien to accepted notions of construction and demand revision. The architect, therefore, cuts into them again, this time translating them into the rectangular forms which will provide more conventional interior spaces and which can be more economically constructed in steel” (Ferriss, p. 75).
“Upon contemplating this form, however, it is apparent that yet further revisions will be necessary. The ‘steps’, because of their multitude and their comparatively small dimensions, would not prove an economical venture in steel; clearly, it would be better to remove those steps which do not conform to the usual simple steel grill. Also, the uppermost steps are of too small an area to be of use: when the spaces necessary for elevators and stairs have been set aside, the remaining rentable area would not justify the expense of building. These too, then, are yet to be revised” (Ferriss, p. 76).
“After removing those parts which were just found to be undesirable, the mass which finally remains is that which is now illustrated. This is not, of course, intended as a finished and habitable building; it still awaits articulation at the hands of the individual designer; but it may be taken as a practical, basic form for large buildings erected under this type of Zoning Law” (Ferriss, p. 77).
Ferriss also comments on how these zoning requirements have improved architecture – no longer will buildings be constructed as large, characterless boxes. Instead, they will possess, “that effect of individuality which is essential to architectural dignity; it exposes more than one – and usually all four – of its facades; there is, in the majority of set-back buildings, a satisfying sense of vertical axis, and in all of them one’s eye is led (as it never was led in the corniced cubes) to a lofty consummation… With the return of the third dimension, Architecture seems to resume possession of a lost glory. And if there be anything in the theory that the building affects the man in the street, we may regard this architectural development as possessing human interest” (Ferriss, p. 78).
Vertical structures on wide avenues, from Hugh Ferriss’ Metropolis of Tomorrow.
In this section Ferriss also describes other proposals for the future of city planning, such as the use of rooftop gardens and the construction of avenues directly through the bases of tall buildings. Above, he illustrates an imaginary district in which buildings are tall, thin, and separated by broad avenues to economise on space and simplify transportation. Below, he beautifully illustrates the predicted development of the glass Curtain Wall, now a standard feature of modern skyscrapers.
The future use of glass in skyscrapers, in The Metropolis of Tomorrow by Hugh Ferriss.
In the third section, Ferris takes account of all of these trends and technological advances to design his own city of the future, one characterised by broad avenues surrounded by smaller structures allowing light and air throughout the city, with a few skyscraper complexes for city management, industry, and the arts placed at strategic locations within regulated zones.
Here we see Ferriss’ imagination and artistic powers at their height, creating a vision of the future that, nearly a century later, still has the power to awe and inspire.
Hugh Ferriss’ Metropolis of Tomorrow.
The Science Center in Hugh Ferriss’ Metropolis of Tomorrow.
A glass-walled building inthe Science Zone at night. Hugh Ferriss’ Metropolis of Tomorrow.
“Buildings like crystals. Walls of translucent glass… A mineral kingdom. Gleaming stalagmites. Forms as cold as ice. Mathematics. Night in the Science Zone” (Ferriss, p. 124).
Wide roads to accommodate vehicle traffic. Hugh Ferriss’ Metropolis of Tomorrow.
The Metropolis of Tomorrow by Hugh Ferriss.
The College of Arts & Sciences in the Metropolis of Tomorrow by Hugh Ferriss.
Rare first edition of The Rainbow by D. H. Lawrence, 1915.
The story of the 1960 trial of Lady Chatterly’s Lover, D. H. Lawrence’s 1928 novel of sexual awakening, is well known. But fewer are aware of the circumstances surrounding one of the author’s earlier books, The Rainbow, which was nearly as controversial as its successor.
Methuen published The Rainbow in September 1915, but quickly withdrew it from sale in the face of almost universally hostile reviews and impending prosecution. “Its religious language, emotional and sexual explorations of experience, and sheer length had given its readers problems, but it was Ursula’s lesbian encounter with a schoolteacher in the chapter ‘Shame’ which had finally condemned it in the eyes of the law and of a country now focused on conflict” (ODNB). At Bow Street magistrates’ court on November 13 it was banned as obscene, with the result that half of the print run of 1250 copies was destroyed.
One of the copies that survived is the one depicted above, which we recently acquired (BOOK SOLD). What makes this copy evocative of the time and circumstances is that the original owner cut from the Times an account of the book’s suppression and pasted it on to the inside of the rear cover, as if to say, “This copy and I are part of this”:
Newspaper account of the suppression of D. H. Lawrence’s The Rainbow, pasted into the back of a first edition.
As an account of the attempted destructed of ideas the report dire, and the circumstances almost destroyed Lawrence’s writing career. But, given the end result for his novels and literary reputation, I think we can allow ourselves a little chuckle at the authorities’ expense. Here’s the complete text of the piece:
At Bow-street Police Court on Saturday, Messrs. Methuen and Co. (Limited), publishers, Essex-street, Strand, were summoned before Sir John Dickinson to cause why 1,011 copies of Mr. D. H. Lawrence’s novel “The Rainbow” should not be destroyed. The defendants expressed regret that the book should have been published, and the magistrate ordered that the copies should be destroyed and that the defendants should pay £10 10s. costs.
Mr. H. Muskett, for the Commissioner of Police, said that the defendants, who were publishers of old standing and recognized repute, offered no opposition to the summons. The book in question was a mass of obscenity of thought, ideas, and action throughout, wrapped up in language which he supposed would be regarded in some quarters as an artistic and intellectual effort, and he was at a loss to understand how Messrs. Methuen had come to lend their name to its publication. Mr. Muskett read extracts from some Press criticisms of the work and continued that upon the matter being brought to the notice of the authorities a search warrant was at once obtained. This was executed by Detective-inspector Draper, who was given every facility by the defendants. He seized a number of copies of the book at their premises and afterwards obtained other copies from the printers, Messrs. Hazell, Watson, and Viney.
A representative of Messr.s methuen said that the agreement to publish the book was dated July, 1914. When the MS. was delivered it was returned to the author, who at the defendant’s suggestion mad ea number of alterations. The firm did not receive it back until June 4 last and again they protested against certain passages. Other alterations were then made by the author, after which he refused to do anything more. No doubt the firm acted unwisely in not scrutinising the book again more carefully, and they regretted having published it.
The Magistrate, in making an order as above, said it was greatly to be regretted that a firm of such high repute should have allowed their reputation to be soiled, as it had been, but the publication of this work, and that they did not take steps to suppress it after the criticisms had appeared in the Press.
First edition of The Deb’s Dictionary by Oliver Herford (1931).
The Deb’s Dictionary (SOLD) is a charming satire of flapper life by Oliver Herford, the author of Sea Legs, a similar book recently featured in this blog. “Deb” was a 1920s slang term for “debutante”, and Herford’s dictionary skewers the pretensions and behavior of young upper-class men and women and the popular culture of the Jazz Age. Herford illustrated The Deb’s Dictionary himself, and the book is now uncommon in the colourful dust jacket that he designed.
Below, a selection of illustrated terms from the dictionary.
For another humorous dictionary see “The Original Slang Dictionary: Francis Grose’s Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue” (SOLD)
Ambidextrous: Not letting your right hand know who is holding your left hand.
Beach: (Baileys) A place where the knee-plus-ultra of Society have their legs photographed for the Sunday papers.
Bloomers: A conspicuous item of feminine apparel. See also underskirt.
Chivalry: The High Resolve of every man to protect every woman against every other man.
Cinder: A mythical substance that gets into a Deb’s eye in a Pullman car and can only be removed with male assistance.
Cocktail: Prohibition’s most notable contribution to the Sophistication of America’s boys and girls.
Coyness: Provocative modesty. Go away closer. Pull it down higher.
Duel: The highest compliment possible for two men to pay one woman.
Heart: The organic ticker that registers the flurries and fluctuations of emotion in Love’s Stock Exchange.
Joint: A get-together place. A knee-joint. An elbow-joint. An uptown joint.
Melody: The Bogey of modern music.
Modesty: The gentle art of enhancing your charm by pretending not to be aware of it.
Rag: A bit of gladsome chiffon doing its best to stick around a frisky sub-deb at a fraternity dance.
Television: An invention to prevent fibbing on the telephone.
As children many of us will have collected flowers to press between the pages of books and, if we were very organised, gathered them into scrapbooks. But how many have done the same with seaweed? During the Victorian era seaweed collecting was a popular occupation for young ladies. It was a Romantic, but sentimental and safely domesticated, way to explore the natural world for women who were not expected to study science for its own sake, but as a social accomplishment. The present scrapbook (book sold) is an early Victorian example containing thirty-four artfully arranged specimens of red, green, and brown seaweeds. Its upper cover is embossed with the name Miss Mary Carrington, but we not not sure whether she was the collector or perhaps the recipient of the completed scrapbook.
What was so appealing about seaweed collecting that it became a popular hobby? For the Victorians, the natural world was inextricably tied to religious and moral edification, with amateur collectors drawn to its study “as a culturally approved form of recreation… seen as aesthetically pleasing, educational and morally beneficial, since lifted the mind to a new appreciation of God”. “Queen Victoria as a young girl made a seaweed album; later in the century, materials for such an album could be purchased at seaside shops like that of Mary Wyatt in Torquay, who specialized in natural souvenirs” (Logan, The Victorian Parlour, pages 144 & 124).
Mounting the seaweed allowed the hobbyist a level of aesthetic freedom, as they were expected to artfully arrange the samples rather than simply pasting them into a book.
“In the late 19th Century, the book Sea Mosses: A Collector’s Guide and an Introduction to the Study of Marine Algae by A. B. Hervey outlined how to properly press and mount various types of algae. The tools needed are a pair of pliers, scissors, a stick with a needle in the end, at least two ‘wash bowls,’ botanist’s ‘drying paper,’ or some kind of blotting paper, cotton cloth, and finally cards to mount the specimens on. Pliers and scissors are used to handle the specimens and cut away any extraneous, ‘superfluous’ branches, and the needle is used like a pencil so that the plant can be moved around with relative ease to show the finer details… The drying and pressing process consists of layering the mounting papers with various types of blotting cloth and additional paper topped with weights… Most seaweed in this case will adhere to the mounting board via gelatinous materials emitted from the plant itself” (Harvard University, Mary A. Robinson online exhibition).
The creator of this scrapbook must have followed a similar set of instructions, as each specimen is carefully fanned out to achieve a naturalistic beauty and symmetry, and no adhesives have been used.
This delicate process exposed not only the beauty of the seaweed, but reflected the character of the collector. Nature was at the centre of the Victorian domestic imagination, and “one reason for the appearance of various representations of the natural world in the parlour… was a continuing apprehension of the world as beautiful – or at least a continuing prestige attached to those who were sensible of that beauty” (Logan, p. 142). In other words, collecting and carefully arranging seaweed demonstrated the participant’s refined sensibilities and her appreciation of nature’s more subtle forms of beauty.
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