That it is Christmas time once more is a fact of which our senses would remind us, even if the calendar did not, for everywhere around us there are sights and sounds that belong by exclusive right to this season of gayety and good cheer.  In the shops all the staple articles of merchandise have been thrust temporarily into the background to make space for the annual display of holiday gifts, while the streets are thronged from morn till eve with busy, preoccupied folk whose hurried footsteps and perplexed brows betray their internal anxiety.  For it is an anxious task, this of choosing suitable Christmas presents for all one’s relations and friends — to say nothing of the numerous individuals who belong to neither category, but who, nevertheless, expect to be “remembered,” and who, for reasons politic or benevolent, probably will be.  And, by the by, what an infinite pity it is that this annual gift-making — which, in its essence, is as sweet and beautiful a custom as any that we have inherited — should have been turned from a pleasure into a burden by the element of social obligation which is now inseparable from it.

That the bestowal of Christmas largesse has come to be a trial both to flesh and spirit not many among us can truthfully deny.  Time was when presents were given and received with equal pleasure, the value and nature of the gift receiving less consideration than the kindliness and good fellowship that prompted its giving; but that was long ago, when people were wise enough to discriminate between friends and acquaintances, and before sordid Commercialism became the world’s ruling power.  Nowadays — alas for friendship! — the only distinctions that we can afford to make are those that separate the persons who, socially or otherwise, are worth cultivating and those who are not.  Self-interest prompts us to call the former our friends, however slight their hold upon our affections; but the latter, whatever our personal feelings toward them, must perforce be relegated to the ranks of the Undesirable, and our association with them must be in secret.

The truth of the matter is that modern gift-giving is too largely a matter of give and take to inspire either donor or recipient with more than perfunctory interest.  It is no longer a question of spontaneous manifestation of good will, but of obligatory conformity with an established social custom.  The heart has nothing to do with it,  nor has the inclination; the dominating influence is rather a determination not to be outdone in generosity by one’s neighbors — and it is a determination that carries along with it more disquietude than gratification.  “I wish I knew what Edith A___ is going to give me this Christmas.” said a sixteen-year old schoolgirl a little while since.  “When we first began to exchange presents Edith’s allowance of pocket money was no larger than mine, so she used to send me something simple and inexpensive, which did not overshadow the bit of fancy work that I generally sent her.  But now her father is very rich, and she has more money than she knows what to do with; consequently she sends me things that just make me feel ashamed of the insignificant trifles that are all I can afford.  And the worst of it all is that she always sends her present immediately after receiving mine, just as if she wanted to repay me, with interest, for my trouble.  It’s foolish, I know, but I can’t help wishing that she were just as poor as she used to be — at any rate, when Christmas comes around.” [continued, please select the next page number below.]

© 2011, VictorianTimes.us. All rights reserved. See Terms of Use. Printing and/or downloading images or PDF constitutes your agreement with these terms.

Pages: 1 2 3