The great unintended irony of Shakespeare's comedy is that Malvolio is a Puritan and a prig and the butt of the jokes of the comic characters in the play. Shakespeare is absolutely merciless towards him. Why is that ironic? Well, because it was the Puritans who nearly killed Christmas for us, and left it to our mercantilism (another vestige of Yankee Puritanism) to recover, not with the generosity of spirit exemplified by the reformed Scrooge (Dickens "invented Christmas"? Then why are there no Christmas trees in "A Christmas Carol," no Santa Claus, no exchange of presents or even expectation of presents in the Cratchit house? Bob doesn't even apologize for having nothing to give the children; all they expect is a meal and the family together for at least one day.), but with the retail heart of "A Night Before Christmas" where the peddler opens his pack to leave delights for the sleeping children.
As I have mentioned before, modern American Christmas celebrations have nothing to do with the traditions of the holiday, which used to focus solely on giving to others and sharing abundance and putting on a feast for friends. Scrooge's nephew keeps that alive, and the same spirit is portrayed earlier in Dickens in The Pickwick Papers. None of the Christmas stories Dickens wrote have anything to do with Santa Claus and shopping. Dickens didn't invent Christmas, Clement Clark Moore did. And he wanted it to be "happy," not "merry." Before Clark Moore, Christmas was always more like this:
Or this:
Or Good King Wenceslas looking out on the feast of St. Stephen (Dec. 26; a day preserved in Catholic Ireland, but known as "Boxing Day," or the servants one official day off a year, in Protestant England); or the origin story of St. Nicholas, throwing bags of gold in a window so a poor father can provide a dowry for his three daughters. We never let that take root in this country. We only let the German paradeisbaum in because of Victorian England (and the fact both Victoria and Albert were German), and we made gift giving all about giving to our dependents, not to peers, and Christmas so much an affair of the family that when it falls on a Sunday the mega-churches that catch everyone's religious attention close to allow family to be put before God, as it was meant to be.
Or Good King Wenceslas looking out on the feast of St. Stephen (Dec. 26; a day preserved in Catholic Ireland, but known as "Boxing Day," or the servants one official day off a year, in Protestant England); or the origin story of St. Nicholas, throwing bags of gold in a window so a poor father can provide a dowry for his three daughters. We never let that take root in this country. We only let the German paradeisbaum in because of Victorian England (and the fact both Victoria and Albert were German), and we made gift giving all about giving to our dependents, not to peers, and Christmas so much an affair of the family that when it falls on a Sunday the mega-churches that catch everyone's religious attention close to allow family to be put before God, as it was meant to be.
Don't get me started.
It was the Puritans who killed Christmas in this country, outlawing it for as long as they could (it actually survived better in the Anglican South until the spiritual heirs of the Puritans, the Southern Baptists, rose to cultural prominence and hegemony. Some of my best friends are Southern Baptists, but let's be honest here.). We lost even the idea of Twelfth Night, and reduced the 12 Days of Christmas to an annoying song nobody likes but everyone has to hear at least once a year. Epiphany, or Twelfth Night, was the bookend celebration to the Christmas Day feast, and like Christmas before trees and chimneys and Father Christmas, was a time of games and play and pleasure and festivity. When Shakespeare posted the title of his newest play at the theater, everyone knew it was a comedy from the title alone. What else did "Twelfth Night" signify, even though the play doesn't take place in January at all.
Yeah, we lost all of that. Our festivities happen frantically in early December, and by the 25th we're exhausted and anticipating only the cleaning up of wrapping paper and dishes. The days after Christmas are sometimes joyful; the days after New Years are just sad. Too much celebrating and back to work the morning after the morning after. Even our winter songs like "Jingle Bells" or "Winter Wonderland" don't sound anymore. We used them up at Christmas, though by January 2 winter is barely underway and we could use something to lighten the mood. But the only respite is Valentine's Day, which everyone hates or loves in equal measure, with the haters dominating the conversation for reasons that have a lot to do with the way we observe Christmas, so maybe there's still something Puritanical in us that we can't remove.
Games and play and pleasure and festivity, after all, are so frivolous. We are more adult. We prefer drinking; and jokes about hangovers. Such things are much more "adult." As children we are so anxious to be adult; as adults we are so anxious to be children again.
Sad!
I still advocate, in my small way, for a return to more joyous celebrations. May it be unto you according to your faith, and may you find some joy to steer you into the year to come. And may it be better than our culture allows it to be.
Games and play and pleasure and festivity, after all, are so frivolous. We are more adult. We prefer drinking; and jokes about hangovers. Such things are much more "adult." As children we are so anxious to be adult; as adults we are so anxious to be children again.
Sad!
I still advocate, in my small way, for a return to more joyous celebrations. May it be unto you according to your faith, and may you find some joy to steer you into the year to come. And may it be better than our culture allows it to be.
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