Ol' Fezziwig: A Christmas Prelude
By Mark Boliek
()
About this ebook
In 2013, on a trip to London, a surprise discovery was made.
In the apartment and museum of the late Charles Dickens, during the refinishing of a writing desk that had been returned to the institution by the family of an admirer believed to have purchased the piece from Dickens in 1843 helping the author to publish A Christmas Carol, a draft of a similar story was found carefully fastened between two panels of a drawer bottom.
After an extensive evaluation of the draft was done by several scholars, it was not quite clear if it was written by Charles Dickens.
The prose and structure of the story are very much in alignment with A Christmas Carol and its language does have a certain tenor to how Dickens wrote and contains actual passages from the original story. The composition, however, was determined not to be of his doing. The stories are similar but have many differences to be a draft of the original book.
The writing desk was the key to the mystery on who theoretically wrote the manuscript. As it was being refurbished, the maker’s mark was revealed after finishing the desk’s hood and was determined that it never was possessed by Charles Dickens but was bought by him, and later sold to the admirer mentioned above after Dickens’ father had passed.
A letter to Dickens, found in some of the author’s papers, expressed that an admirer was grateful for the opportunity to purchase a desk, and that he would treat it with reverence and gave condolences to his father’s passing. If it was the same admirer, no one could tell.
It is possible this desk was bought by Charles for his father’s home that he rented for his father, who was late in life, and Charles wanted his father far from the city.
It was then theorized that John Dickens, Charles’ father, may have written the manuscript.
Always waiting for something to turn up, John Dickens was known to have tried to emulate his son’s success by being a writer. It is believed he thought it an easy profession.
It is still unclear, but it cannot be one hundred percent determined that if John Dickens wrote the manuscript before or after A Christmas Carol, or if he wrote it at all. It is only a theory and must be treated as such. Most of the scholars believed it was written after Charles’ famous story, but they cannot be for sure.
The Charles Dicken’s Museum felt there was not enough evidence the draft could be authenticated, and therefore was returned to the family that had owned the desk. Thankfully, the family gave permission for the manuscript to be published as Ol' Fezziwig: A Christmas Prelude. We hope you enjoy it and determine for yourself if John Dickens was the one to write it, as it may have been or not.
Mark Boliek
My name is Mark. I have struggled with my faith for as long as I can remember, but it's funny that I've never lost it.I am a forty-something kid from Durham, NC with a regular job, wife, daughter, cat, and cool Scottish Terrier.It took me 18 years to write The Mahogany Door, and 2 years for Kali's Regress, and they still need improvement. I hope you enjoy them.Check the music to the book out on my facebook page or at reverbnation.
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Ol' Fezziwig - Mark Boliek
‘Ol Fezziwig – A Christmas Prelude
John Dickens
Published by:
Split Rail Books, LLC on Smashwords
Copyright 2022 by Split Rail Books, LLC
Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book is copyrighted, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
Based on the characters and story of ‘A Christmas Carol’ by Charles Dickens.
Preface
In 2013, on a trip to London, a surprise discovery was made.
In the apartment and museum of the late Charles Dickens, during the refinishing of a writing desk that had been returned to the institution by the family of an admirer believed to have purchased the piece from Dickens in 1843 helping the author to publish A Christmas Carol, a draft of a similar story was found carefully fastened between two panels of a drawer bottom.
After an extensive evaluation of the draft was done by several scholars, it was not quite clear if it was written by Charles Dickens.
The prose and structure of the story are very much in alignment with A Christmas Carol and its language does have a certain tenor to how Dickens wrote and contains actual passages from the original story. The composition, however, was determined not to be of his doing. The stories are similar but have many differences to be a draft of the original book.
The writing desk was the key to the mystery on who theoretically wrote the manuscript. As it was being refurbished, the maker’s mark was revealed after finishing the desk’s hood and was determined that it never was possessed by Charles Dickens but was bought by him, and later sold to the admirer mentioned above after Dickens’ father had passed.
A letter to Dickens, found in some of the author’s papers, expressed that an admirer was grateful for the opportunity to purchase a desk, and that he would treat it with reverence and gave condolences to his father’s passing. If it was the same admirer, no one could tell.
It is possible this desk was bought by Charles for his father’s home that he rented for his father, who was late in life, and Charles wanted his father far from the city.
It was then theorized that John Dickens, Charles’ father, may have written the manuscript.
Always waiting for something to turn up, John Dickens was known to have tried to emulate his son’s success by being a writer. It is believed he thought it an easy profession.
It is still unclear, but it cannot be one hundred percent determined that if John Dickens wrote the manuscript before or after A Christmas Carol, or if he wrote it at all. It is only a theory and must be treated as such. Most of the scholars believed it was written after Charles’ famous story, but they cannot be for sure.
The Charles Dicken’s Museum felt there was not enough evidence the draft could be authenticated, and therefore was returned to the family that had owned the desk. Thankfully, the family gave permission for the manuscript to be published as A Christmas Prelude. We hope you enjoy it and determine for yourself if John Dickens was the one to write it, as it may have been or not.
Contents
Measure
One: Martha’s Ghost
Two: Past
Three: Present
Four: Future
Five: The End
Measure One
Martha’s Ghost
Fezziwig was alive, to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that. The bartender, the undertaker and the constable of the street all triaged his vitals, and none warranted them to feel any urgency to care. Scrooge confirmed it. And, Scrooge’s senses could be relied on, no matter what he put his hand to, which now lay upon the man in the mud’s neck.
Old Fezziwig was as alive as a door nail.
Mind! I do not mean to say that I have much knowledge as to what is particularly alive about a door-nail. As this man, drunk to near unconsciousness, face mostly down in the mud, Welsh wig crooked on his head, not moving, was as alive as a door-nail. For, if this man were not of the living, I would be more likely to say the man was as dead as a coffin-nail. That would make his situation, I believe, more permanent. You will therefore permit me to repeat emphatically, that Fezziwig was as alive as a door-nail.
Scrooge knew he was alive? Of course, he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge had witnessed the stout man open the pub door and stumble out the deck entrance into the cold, trying to take one step onto the street, and falling flat on his face. At that moment, while the other three who had witnessed the same event, satisfied that the man was alive had gone about their business with an energetic chuckle followed by a somber mention of the death of the poor man’s son and wife; Scrooge had found himself crouching down, looking for the beat of the man’s heart beneath his fingers as his sole protector, caregiver, secret keeper, acquaintance and comforter. And even Scrooge, one that does not experience such things during such events, felt empathy toward the plight of the man gurgling mud. Scrooge believed that he was a good man of business and could easily get a cab at bargain to take the man home, but in a split second, why, no one knows, decided to take him to his place of work.
The mention of the man gurgling mud brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Fezziwig was alive, but it also must be established that his wife and son had been dead for three years plus two days. This must be absolutely understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not warned of the Ides of March before Julius Caesar’s demise at the beginning of the play, there would be nothing remarkable about him meeting his end much like any other general in battle - say during the Battle of Philippi. But as the Emperor’s ghost appears later in the play; it would astonish his murderer’s weak mind.
Scrooge was exact about his business. He kept no partner, as he believed what money he made should stay with him. Splitting profit was not an idea he liked to ponder upon. His firm was known as Byron Limited. Sometimes people knew it as Byron Scrooge, sometimes only Scrooge, but he answered to whatever people chose. It was all the same to him.
Oh! But he was a hardheaded mule of a doubter, that Scrooge! A demanding, suffering, anguishing, tormenting, wounded old widower! Hard and sharp as flint in his demeanor and business, but with a soft and gentle heart, from which only the thoughts of his children; a daughter, Fan and a son, Ebenezer, could strike out a generous fire; he held it secret, self-contained, and as hard to crack as an oyster. The cold he displayed on the outside froze his old features; a façade most found intimidating. His nose was pointed, his gait was assertive, his eyes a fiery green. The warmth that brewed in him though, could make his cheeks and lips ruddy and bring out a deep, shrewd, baritone voice; but the distantness he presented made it come across as unkind. A mop of gray hair on his head was accompanied with bushy salt and pepper eyebrows, and a trimmed frosted goatee dressing his strong chin. He carried a low temperature about his shell always as he walked the streets. He would ice his office in the dog days but would surprisingly warm it liberally around Christmas.
External heat and cold were bothers to Scrooge. He could not decide which was worse, the heat or the chill. On the one hand, he did not mind the heat as cool baths could make for a nice break when the heat became suffocating. On the other, the cold could be tamed by heaps of coal or clothes but, mostly, the end of the year’s biting cold was a harbinger of Christmas celebrations. His inner warmth could make him as merry as a schoolboy or as light as a feather, showering his deepest affection on his daughter. However, his outward stiffness would not allow the joy to escape from his broken, tormented heart toward his son. The brightest ray of joy, excitement and cheer, or blanket could not break the stoic figure or thaw him.
Some who walked the streets and knew him well would stop him in the streets and say with gladsome looks, My dear Scrooge how are you? When will you come to see me?
More than once, but not as so often, he would stop and bestow a trifle to the beggars. However, he would avoid engaging in a conversation with one that passed his way. But he would be glad to give children the time of day with a stern, empty voice to those that asked, men or women would inquire to others to such and such a place of Scrooge. He was accommodating to those that he met in the streets, whether with compassion or a sense of duty, so that even the blind-men’s dogs appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming would stop and heel to let him pass and wag their tails in hopes their master could sense that Scrooge was near and say, With mine eye you may see a walking, talking enigma!
But what did Scrooge care! Though he did - to what all humans may believe and what other people may think about them - but he would not give anyone the satisfaction of letting them know. He would edge