OBLIGATORY PLEASURES

Otago Daily Times, Issue 18754, 6 January 1923, Page 12

OBLIGATORY PLEASURES

“After all it was very pleasant, and I'm glad I went.”. Nine times out of ten that is what we say when we look back upon an obligatory pleasure to which, in the common sense of the phrase, wo have not “looked forward.” A great proportion of the set pleasures of life are obligatory. Most people who have nassed their first vouth would like to “call off” them at the last minute. For all that they would, find life verv dull if thev gave’in to a momentarv sense of distaste, and they know they would. When not confronted with the immediate effort, when the obligation is still in the middle of the next week, it looks rather alluring, and they go on entangling themselves in fresh obligations still further off. The reason they do so, whatever the cvnics may sav, that while thev feel their short liberty " curtailed by their social duties, they very much enjoy them. Women no doubt enjoy them rather more than men do. but that is because even in these days their work is ’ess regular than a man’s. Thev mav not have more freedom, but they feel they have. These who can have any given hour for their own have a sense that all the hours are theirs. What we have been saving is. we think, more true of week-end visits than of any other delights—for -when all is said we do all delight in them. “I wish we had not said we would go,’ says the husband: “I’ve had a very hard week this week, and I feel rather tired somehow.” “Yes.” savs his wife, “I wished when I woke this morning that I could have staved quietly at home. I don’t think week-end visits are worth it, but one can’t always refuse or people would cease to ask one.” In their hearts both want to go, though neither wants to pack, and the woman at least wishes that she had got something that she has not got—a new hat or a lighter suitcase or some thick shoes that neither creak nor hurt. Nobody likes to seem inhospitable. Inhospitality is a very common peculiarity even in "this country, but it is one of which no one can bear to be accused. One might say to a man in chaff that he is by nature fierce, that he has much of the savage in him; but one must not even in fun say that he is not hospitable. It follows that when once we have invited a friend or a party we hardly like to say in any company that we wish to goodness we had not done so. Yet husbands and wives and mothers and daughters do sometimes whisper to on© another that they would be glad of a short telegram with that convenient word “writing” before the signature telling them whom not to expect. They would be, thev say, very sorry not to see them, hut “just as it turns out,” etc., it is perhaps for the best. The matter is, however, seldom dismissed without the following phrase: - “I’m very glad we asked them.” The obligation is / fulfilled; the chain of obligation is not broken; they themselves will be the subjects of some return civilitv and go grumbling off to enioy themselves. We wonder if foreigners behave like this, or is it only we who kick at the bondage of 'social" pleasure? With us it seems an inherent tendency. We certainly begin it very early. Who cannot recollect some occasion unon which they have forced an unwilling child to go to a party ? There is something about a doorstep which shakes the nerves of. a child. He seems to have a vague notion that he is entering the enemies’ castle. He may return home in a state of ebullient happiness and ready to make anv festive engagement proposed to him, onlv to make the same fuss when next time comes. The modem world at any rate regards evening a? the right time for festivities, and grumbles most heartily before those which take place in the davtime. Hardly anyone will confess to enjoying weddings. Yet what crowds attend them ! What an amount of cheerful conversation and interesting gossip they give rise to! There are always more people than seem to have been expected at a wedding. Everyone comes home having seen someone the sight of whom gave pleasure or amusement nr roused agreeable memories. “Who do you think I saw!” cry the returned gue"sts in chorus, as they relate their experience to someone who naively regrets at dinner the inability to make one- of the company which gave him such satisfaction and was so generally envied at breakfast. The showing of the presents is a custom almost universally condemned, but how anxiously the friends of both bride and bridegroom press in to look at them; even a list in a newspaper finds readers! The conduct of wedding guests in church is a constant subject of unfavourable comment, and truly it is not always very reverent. We need not, however, suppose for a moment that irreverence is intended. The congregation is, as a rule, in high spirits and in a mood of worldly enioyment, whatever they may say to; the contrary. “It seems such a wrong time of day to be eating,” they say deprecatingly, when they get to the house, as they drink their champagne and take another niece of cake. Do the unsophisticated, those who have very few pleasures, go to them with as much reluctance as those who have taken the trouble and had the time and opportunity to systematise their recreation? Bank’ holidays are greatly looked forward to, and so are what we may call church outings, which are in a measure obligator. It is not verv easy to say, because simple people have very good manners. Thev arrive too early, and certainly come expectant. On the other hand, we are not certain that they' look hack with quite the same zest as those who grumble more. When we read of the feasts of the past, of the tournaments and jousts, and all the set pieces of Merrie England, we sec nothing but delight from start to finish We cannot imagine knights and fine ladies setting forth with misgivings and wishing they were at home by the fire in their own smokv balls. Probably thev did wish it, however, very often; and if we go back to Scripture we find a hint that feasts were matters of anxiety at times to those who gave them, that disappointments were common, and men kicked against the obligatory side of festivity. All the same the old world and the new contrived to make a system of pleasure, and made social gatherings and feasts th" symbols of happiness in everv form Red-letter days were days of obligator',• holiday, and we still use tho phrase to express our most delightful memories. , The truth is. we suppose, that what wo all want is change. Hard-worked people find it a, little "difficult to decide whether thev want rest as a change or different work. The majority are sure that out of new occupation they get the most pleasure,,, but thev are aware that that pleasure involves them in a certain effort from which fatigue and shyness ran-e. them to shrink. To obviate this tendency to shirk, all civilised societies systematise their recreations and pnpvfre the will of the community by unwritten law. A life of alternate rest and " (wt- is pot enough for us social animals. It does verv well for a horse hut not for his master.—The Spectator.