Winter 1915-1916
It is considered correct, for a well-behaved magazine, whenever the month of December comes round, to produce a Christmas number. We have a suspicion that the average Christmas number is apt to be just a shade too Christmassy. Yuletide has the bloom rubbed off it by being too feverishly rubbed in, and to turn the exuberant pages of some of the publications which adorn our bookstalls is to grow tired of a sentiment which, long before the 25th, has lost its spontaneity. Perhaps those who love Christmas best feel most deeply this resentment against the over-stressing of the date's traditional jocosities. And this year, when to many sorrowful souls there is a bitter irony in the season's chosen text, we think the danger of an artificial insistence on the Christmas note is enormously increased. The beautiful old phrase, "On earth peace, goodwill towards men," still holds its meaning for the faithful, but might with terrible facility lend itself in this tragic era of strife to the sceptic's derision.
It will be found, therefore, that though this little magazine of ours presents some Christmas features, as is only right and proper, it makes no very strained attempt to depart from the normal in the major portion of its contents. There are elaborate preparations afoot to give the hospital a very merry Christmas; much hard work is being expended on that laudable task, which means that not a few of our staff are sacrificing their precious spare time for their fellows' benefit. So, though The Gazette is not very liberally besprinkled with orthodox holly and mistletoe, Christmas itself, when it arrives, will be duly celebrated throughout our community.
A strange Christmas it will be, indeed, to many of us. Some are far from home, some are in bodily pain, some are fresh from scenes of the utmost horror, some are preparing to face the world with the cruel hardship of the cripple, some are still in danger of loss of life itself. Yet we venture to prophesy that nowhere will there be more truly a happy Christmas than at the 3rd L.G.H. For it is a singular paradox - a paradox of which every Briton has a right to be proud - that this, and our other war hospitals, are famed for their high spirits. Our wounded are indomitably gay. They decline to be solemn. It is a blessed kink in the national character, and augurs well for our ultimate triumph not only over a foe notorious for his lack of humour, but also over the burden of anxiety and grief which might overwhelm a less spirited people. If we have been perpetually in the mood for jests throughout the year, it is safe to say that we shall not need to fear a flat Christmas. There is no call to make up our minds to force the gaiety; the season will go with a swing, of its own accord. The wounded - God bless them! - would see to that, even without the help of the staff or of our good friends from outside.
If there is peace and goodwill anywhere this year it will be amongst precisely those who have suffered most from the motto's denial - the inmates of our war hospitals.
No comments:
Post a Comment