Some people are well organised and get the job out
of the way early, whereas others keep putting it off and leave it until the
last minute. I’ll admit, I fall into the latter camp. It’s not a thing I enjoy
doing and I’m glad when it’s over and done with. What is it? Why, writing the
Christmas cards, of course. It has to be done, you know it does, and some
people take it as a personal affront if they don’t receive one and when we fall
out with someone, what’s the worst thing we can do? We can take them off our
Christmas card list.
That’s just about the worst slight we English can inflict
on our fellow Englishmen. You know we mean business when we knock you off our
Christmas card list. Forget vendettas, feuds, fisticuffs or a really stern
look; if your name comes off the Christmas card list, you are beyond the pale,
you are nothing to us, you may as well be dead.
Like many other Christmas
customs, we stole the idea of Christmas cards from our continental cousins. It
was a well-founded tradition for the French and Germans to send out New Year
letters to their kith and kin at the turning of the year (the Germans also sent
out Namenstag cards, sent not on a birthday but on your namesake saint’s
day); just a few lines to let them know how things were going and what you were
up to, and those Johnny Foreigners with lots of friends and relations came up
with the idea of just writing one letter and getting it printed up and sent out
en masse. The English spotted this ruse and pinched it; it’s a thing we
are especially good at and it’s the reason that the sun never set on the
British Empire - as not even God would trust an Englishman in the dark.
The
idea of a Christmas card came from Henry Cole, a civil servant responsible for,
amongst other things, designing the Penny Black postage stamp. Cole
commissioned the Royal Academician John Callcott Horsley to design a greeting
card for him in 1843, (his diary entry for November 17th 1843
includes, “Mr. Horsley came and brought design for Christmas card”).
In
1846, Cole had one thousand cards lithographed and hand-coloured, which sold
for one shilling each, issued under Cole’s pseudonym Felix Summerly, printed by
Mr Jobbins of Warwick Court, Holborn, and sold by Cole’s friend, Joseph
Cundall, from his shop in Old Bond Street, London (see Cundall’s letter to Notes
and Queries of January 26th 1864, where he clearly states that ‘possibly
not more’ than one thousand cards were sold - not the 2,500 as the
Wikipedia article on Christmas Cards claims).
Cundall's Letter to Notes and Queries - 1864 |
The card was a single paste-board, the size of a lady’s
calling card, with Horsley’s Germanesque design of three panels, the side ones
depicting charitable acts and the central one showing a scene of a family
celebrating with glasses of wine – which caused the Victorian abstainers to
object that a little girl was being encouraged to drink alcohol because, as we
all know, pictures of children imbibing with their family on a Christmas card
is the first step on the rocky road to drunkenness, debauchery, the gutter and
far, far worse.
Although Cole’s cards sold out, the idea didn’t really catch on
until about twenty years later, when playing-card manufacturers Charles Goodall
and Sons branched out into the greeting cards business, producing visiting-card
style cards with the simple message ‘A Merry Christmas’.
Soon after, robins
began to appear, but the early Victorian card illustrations were not
particularly festive – they featured fairies, animals, flowers and children,
and over the years far more bizarre images began to appear. Bicycles and steam
engines may not strike us as particularly Christmassy, but neither do
scantily-clad nymphs or cricket matches, yet these were grist to the mills of
the card makers.
It wasn’t long though until the familiar holly, snowmen,
Kings, bells and all the other tat were rolled out and soon elaborate creations
of lace, gilt, bells, silk, gold, silver, broche, embossing, scrolls, fans,
pop-ups, velvet, scent and goodness knows what else began to appear.
Lace, Swans and Lambs - on a Christmas Card |
This
didn’t stop the killjoys and the puritans attempting to get in on the act, for
as early as 1871 there were complaints in the newspapers that ‘legitimate
correspondence’ was being delayed by all this whimsical postal nonsense and
in 1873, The Times printed the first notice apologising for ‘not
sending Christmas cards this year’.
By the 1890s, the custom of sending
cards was beginning to decline and might well have died out all together had it
not been for the resurgence during the First World War, when cards to and from
the front became a welcome communication with loved ones. Christmas cards may
well be in danger again as the habit of hand-written communication diminishes
in the face of the instant messages of the e-mail, text and other modern forms
of keeping in touch.
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