A Fettered Friendship: How a Plea from the Past Secured a Redemption for the Future

A Ghostly Little Book

Charles Dickens has become known as the man who invented Christmas, a title which he may have humbly accepted or thought embarrassing, since December 1843 when A Christmas Carol. In Prose. Being a Ghost Story of Christmas was published. Dickens himself described the story of Ebenezer Scrooge as a “ghostly little book, [endeavored] to raise the ghost of an idea, which shall not put my readers out of humour with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me. May it haunt their houses pleasantly, and no one wish to lay it” (Dickens, 1843). Now, while A Christmas Carol most certainly is a ghost story, in that there are ghosts, I would humbly pose the argument that it is a story of a ghost, one in particular, who sought a single chance to secure redemption - not for himself, but for his friend and partner.

In the spirit of Christmas, I invite you to join me for a quiet fireside discussion of the relationship between Jacob Marley and Ebenezer Scrooge, and how a procuring of hope secured redemption for the future. Grab your cocoa, cozy up in a warm blanket, and let’s venture to a foggy Christmas Eve in Victorian London.

A Chance and Hope

“There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story that I am going to relate.” (from Stave I: Marley’s Ghost)

To begin with, Dickens makes it very clear that Marley is dead. Dead as a doornail. Four paragraphs are devoted entirely to ensuring that we, as the readers, know that Marley is completely, irrevocably, verifiably D-E-A-D. Now, while this is a rather depressing point to begin the story, it serves two primary purposes: first, it informs the audience of the existing circumstances; second, it establishes Scrooge’s mindset. Apart from a fleeting remark made to a hopeful solicitor that day, Scrooge has given no thought to his partner for seven years. His grief - for I don’t think it terribly outlandish to assume Ebenezer did, for his part and in his way, grieve Jacob’s death - has manifested in such a way that he would rather not think of his partner at all. When we meet him, Ebenezer Scrooge is at his coldest. “A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster,” glad to “[warn] all human sympathy to keep its distance.” (1843) 

What a cheerful protagonist.

“The same face: the very same. Marley 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. The chain he drew was clasped about his middle. It was long, and wound about him like a tail; and it was made (for Scrooge observed it closely) of cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel.” (from Stave I: Marley’s Ghost)

Imagine, if you will, that you have spared no thought for your deceased partner for all of the seven years since his death. You might, in that event, share Ebenezer’s shock and speculation to have this very fellow appear first in the door knocker (disturbing image…), then in your bed chambers. Nevertheless, such is Scrooge’s experience, and doubt quickly gives way to (understandable) fear that “spirits walk the earth” and one such spirit has come to Ebenezer himself. It could even be speculated that Scrooge’s refusal to believe such an apparition existed and was his partner might be attached to Jacob’s ghastly appearance: fettered by a terrible chain and wailing the agony of his fate in the afterlife. In Scrooge’s eyes, Jacob was a “good man of business,” one of the greatest commonalities established between them during the partnership, and that Jacob was deserving of such fate was, in a word, inconceivable.

And yet, the proof was set before him, in all its terrible reality.

“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.” (from Stave I: Marley’s Ghost)

It is said that hindsight is twenty-twenty; for Jacob Marley, his hindsight came too little, too late. “Mankind was my business.” He declares to Ebenezer, “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!” (Dickens, 1843). Jacob knows, now, the reality of how all humankind ought to live their lives, but it is too late for him. “...if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world … and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!” (1843) For Jacob Marley, there remains only regret, a wistful longing for what might have been done differently in life, and the lingering attachment to his partner: “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.” (1843)

Jacob’s fate is inescapable; he will roam the earth for eternity, never knowing true rest and fettered to his chains. Even so, knowing there is no benefit in it for himself, Jacob seized a solitary opportunity to procure for Ebenezer the chance to escape such a dreadful fate.

“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!” (from Stave V: The End of It)

I mentioned earlier that A Christmas Carol is certainly a ghost story, but it might be stated that it is, in fact, a story of one ghost. Jacob Marley’s devotion to his friend and partner remained such that without any hope for his own salvation, he strove to ensure Ebenezer’s. His initial visit is the catalyst for Ebenezer’s redemption, the first event that spurs many more into action. Without Jacob Marley, the tale of Ebenezer Scrooge does not end in tidings of comfort and joy, and Scrooge knows it. Even in his delirious joy and relief, he does not forget who is responsible for his hopeful future. And while Jacob’s fate is unchanged, the audience may assume a bittersweet hope that he will remain by Scrooge’s side, though “[Scrooge] had no further intercourse with Spirits,” watching his old friend keep Christmas in his heart all year long, and know he was responsible for it.

Further Reading

A Christmas Carol is a must-read every year for the Christmas season: a classic but ultimately simple tale of hope and redemption. If you’re interested in learning more about the story and the man behind it, I highly recommend The Man Who Invented Christmas: How Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol Rescued His Career and Revived Our Holiday Spirits by Les Standiford. It’s a detailed exploration into Dickens’ life, the Victorian era in which he strove to make a writing career, and how the tale of Ebenezer Scrooge birthed the Christmas tidings we know best and may always continue to hold dear.