ONE DOLLAR AND eighty-seven cents. That was Della’s entire fortune. Sixty cents of it was in pennies, painstakingly saved by haggling with every grocer, vegetable vendor, and butcher in town, enduring the unspoken judgment of being stingy. Della counted the meager sum three times. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. Christmas was just a day away.
Despair washed over her, leaving Della with only one option: to sink onto the worn-out couch and cry. And cry she did. It’s a thought that brings to mind the old saying that life is a mixture of tears, sniffles, and smiles, though often, the sniffles seem to win out.
As Della’s sorrow gradually shifted from the first wave to a quieter sadness, let’s take a moment to observe their home. It was a furnished apartment, costing $8 a week. It wasn’t quite falling apart, but poverty was certainly knocking at its door.
Downstairs, in the entrance, a letterbox stood empty, never receiving letters, and an electric doorbell button that no finger could persuade to ring. A card beside it read “Mr. James Dillingham Young.” The “Dillingham” part was a relic from better times when he earned $30 a week. Now, with a reduced income of $20, the letters of “Dillingham” appeared faded, almost considering shrinking to a simple, unassuming ‘D’. But to Della, and everyone who knew him upstairs in their flat, he was just “Jim,” and greeted with warm hugs by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, our Della. And that was all that mattered.
Della wiped her tears and powdered her cheeks. She stood by the window, gazing listlessly at a gray cat on a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow was Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 to buy Jim a gift. For months, she’d saved every penny, yet this was all she’d managed. Twenty dollars a week doesn’t stretch far. Expenses had been unexpectedly high, as they always seemed to be. Just $1.87 for a gift for Jim, her Jim. She had spent countless happy hours dreaming of something special for him, something truly worthy of the man she loved – something rare, fine, and of sterling quality.
Between the room’s windows hung a pier-glass. You might have seen one in a cheap apartment. Only a very slim and nimble person could catch a reasonable reflection of themselves by quickly viewing narrow strips from top to bottom. Della, being slender, had mastered this peculiar art.
Suddenly, she spun away from the window and stood before the mirror. Her eyes sparkled, but her face paled within seconds. Swiftly, she undid her hair, letting it cascade to its full magnificent length.
The James Dillingham Youngs possessed two treasures they deeply cherished. One was Jim’s gold watch, a family heirloom passed down from his father and grandfather. The other was Della’s hair. If the Queen of Sheba lived across the courtyard, Della would have hung her hair out the window to dry, just to diminish Her Majesty’s opulent jewels and gifts. If King Solomon had been the building superintendent, with all his riches stored in the basement, Jim would have proudly displayed his watch every time he passed, just to watch the king’s beard twitch with envy.
And now, Della’s glorious hair flowed around her, shimmering like a waterfall of rich brown. It extended below her knees, almost like a garment. Then, nervously and quickly, she began to braid it back up. For a moment, she hesitated, a tear or two landing on the worn red carpet.
She put on her old brown jacket and her old brown hat. With a swirl of her skirt and a bright, determined glint in her eyes, she rushed out the door and down the stairs to the street.
She stopped where a sign read: “Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds.” Della hurried up the flight of stairs, catching her breath. Madame Sofronie, large, pale, and indifferent, hardly embodied the name “Sofronie.”
“Will you buy my hair?” Della asked.
“I buy hair,” Madame replied flatly. “Take off your hat, let’s see it.”
The brown waterfall tumbled down again. “Twenty dollars,” Madame said, weighing the mass in her experienced hand.
“Quick, give it to me,” Della urged.
Oh, the next two hours flew by in a joyful haze. Forget the cliché. Della was on a mission, scouring stores for Jim’s gift.
Finally, she found it. It was undeniably made for Jim and no one else. She had searched every store, turned them inside out, and found nothing else like it. It was a platinum fob chain, simple and elegant, its value clear from its substance, not from showy decoration – as true quality always is. It was worthy of The Watch. The moment she saw it, Della knew it was meant for Jim. It was like him: quiet worth and intrinsic value. It cost her twenty-one dollars, and she hurried home with the remaining 87 cents. With this chain on his watch, Jim could confidently check the time in any company. As magnificent as the watch was, he sometimes checked it discreetly because of the old leather strap he used.
Reaching home, Della’s excitement began to give way to practicality. She took out her curling irons, lit the gas, and set about repairing the damage done by love and generosity. It’s always a huge undertaking, dear friends, a monumental task.
In forty minutes, her head was covered in tight, tiny curls, making her look strikingly like a mischievous schoolboy. She studied her reflection in the mirror, long, carefully, and critically.
“If Jim doesn’t kill me,” she thought, “before he takes a second look, he’ll say I look like a Coney Island showgirl. But what else could I do? Oh, what could I do with only a dollar and eighty-seven cents?”
By 7 o’clock, the coffee was ready, and the frying pan was hot on the stove, ready for the chops.
Jim was always punctual. Della clutched the fob chain in her hand and sat at the corner of the table, near the door he always used. She heard his footsteps on the stairs, far down on the first flight, and her face paled for a moment. She had a habit of saying small, silent prayers for everyday things, and now she whispered, “Please God, make him think I am still pretty.”
The door opened, and Jim walked in and closed it. He looked pale and serious. Poor fellow, only twenty-two and burdened with responsibilities! He needed a new overcoat and gloves badly.
Jim stopped inside the door, as still as a hunting dog catching a scent. His eyes were fixed on Della, with an expression she couldn’t decipher, and it frightened her. It wasn’t anger, surprise, disapproval, or horror – none of the reactions she had imagined. He simply stared at her, intently, with that strange look.
Della slipped off the table and moved towards him.
“Jim, darling,” she cried, “don’t look at me like that. I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn’t bear to have Christmas without giving you a gift. It will grow back – you don’t mind, do you? I had to do it. My hair grows so fast. Say ‘Merry Christmas,’ Jim, and let’s be happy. You don’t know what a wonderful, beautiful gift I got for you.”
“You’ve cut off your hair?” Jim asked slowly, as if he was just now grasping the obvious fact, even after much mental effort.
“Cut it off and sold it,” Della confirmed. “But you still like me, even without my hair? I’m still me, right?”
Jim looked around the room, puzzled.
“You say your hair is gone?” he asked, sounding almost foolish.
“Yes, it’s gone,” Della said. “Don’t look for it. It’s sold, I tell you – sold and gone. It’s Christmas Eve, Jim. Be nice to me, it was for you. Maybe the hairs on my head were numbered,” she added with sudden earnest sweetness, “but no one could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?”
Jim seemed to snap out of his daze. He embraced Della tightly. For ten seconds, let’s respectfully look away at something unimportant. Eight dollars a week or a million a year – what difference does it make? A mathematician or a cynic would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but selfless love wasn’t among them. This puzzling statement will become clear soon.
Jim took a package from his overcoat pocket and placed it on the table.
“Don’t misunderstand me, Dell,” he said. “Nothing – no haircut, shave, or shampoo – could ever make me love you less. But open that package, and you’ll see why I was so stunned at first.”
White fingers trembled as they tore at the string and paper. Then, a scream of pure joy, followed by a quick shift to hysterical tears and sobs, requiring all of Jim’s comforting skills.
Inside lay The Combs – the set of combs, side and back, that Della had longingly admired in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, made of real tortoiseshell, with jeweled rims – the perfect shade for her vanished, beautiful hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had ached for them without any hope of owning them. And now, they were hers, but the beautiful hair meant to adorn them was gone.
She held them tightly to her chest, and finally looked up with tear-filled eyes and a smile. “My hair grows so fast, Jim!”
Then Della jumped up like a startled kitten and cried, “Oh, oh!”
Jim hadn’t yet seen his gift. She held it out to him eagerly on her open palm. The dull, precious metal seemed to glow with the reflection of her bright, loving spirit.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Jim? I searched everywhere to find it. You’ll have to check the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch, I want to see how it looks on it.”
Instead of handing over his watch, Jim sank onto the couch, put his hands behind his head, and smiled.
“Dell,” he said, “let’s put our Christmas gifts away for a while. They’re too precious to use right now. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. Now, how about those chops?”
The Wisdom of the Magi’s Gifts
The magi, as we know, were wise men – exceptionally wise men – who brought gifts to the baby Jesus in the manger. They are credited with inventing the tradition of Christmas gift-giving. Being wise, their gifts were undoubtedly thoughtful, perhaps even practical enough to be exchanged if needed. Here, I have recounted for you the simple story of two young, perhaps foolish, people in a humble apartment who, in their own way, unwisely sacrificed their most prized possessions for each other. But in a final thought for the wise among us today, let it be said that of all who give gifts, these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, those like Della and Jim are the truly wise. Everywhere, their kind of love is the wisest. They are the true magi, for they understood the heart of giving, offering not just material presents, but the invaluable Gift Of Magi: selfless love and sacrifice.
Understanding the Gift of Magi: Love and Sacrifice in O. Henry’s Classic
“The Gift of the Magi” by O. Henry is more than just a heartwarming Christmas story; it’s a profound exploration of love, sacrifice, and the true meaning of gift-giving. Set against the backdrop of a humble apartment and limited finances, the story of Della and Jim Young resonates deeply because it touches upon universal themes of selfless love and the irony of life. The title itself, “The Gift of the Magi,” immediately brings to mind the biblical story of the wise men who offered precious gifts to the infant Jesus. O. Henry cleverly draws a parallel, suggesting that Della and Jim, in their poverty and devotion, embody a similar kind of wisdom in their gift-giving.
The Poverty and Pride of the Youngs
The story begins by painting a vivid picture of the Youngs’ financial struggles. Della’s painstaking saving of pennies highlights their economic hardship. Yet, amidst this poverty, they possess an immense wealth of love and pride. Their most prized possessions – Della’s hair and Jim’s watch – are not merely material goods; they represent their identity and family heritage. This pride is crucial because it underscores the magnitude of their sacrifices later in the story.
Della’s Sacrifice: A Cascade of Love
Della’s decision to sell her hair is the first act of profound sacrifice. Her hair is described in opulent terms – a “cascade of brown waters,” a “garment.” It is a symbol of her beauty and femininity, something she and Jim both deeply cherish. Selling it for twenty dollars to buy Jim a watch chain is not a rash act but a carefully considered choice driven by her love for Jim. This action demonstrates the depth of her desire to give him a worthy Christmas gift, even at a great personal cost.
Jim’s Sacrifice: The Heirloom Watch
Jim’s sacrifice is equally significant and poignant. His gold watch is not just a timepiece; it’s a symbol of his family history and pride, passed down through generations. Selling it to buy Della combs for her hair reveals a love that mirrors Della’s in its selflessness. His initial stunned reaction to Della’s haircut is not of anger but of shock and a realization of the ironic twist of fate. He too has made a sacrifice of equal measure, rendering Della’s thoughtful gift ironically unusable, just as his own gift is for her.
The Ironic Gifts and the True Meaning of Magi
The irony of their gifts is the heart of the story. Each sacrifices their most prized possession to buy a gift that becomes useless due to the other’s sacrifice. Della buys a watch chain for a watch Jim no longer owns, and Jim buys combs for hair Della has sold. This ironic twist highlights the story’s central theme: the true value of a gift lies not in its material worth or practicality, but in the love and sacrifice behind it.
O. Henry’s comparison of Della and Jim to the magi is not about material wealth or grand gestures. The magi’s wisdom lay in recognizing and honoring true value. Similarly, Della and Jim, in their “foolish” sacrifices, display a deeper wisdom – the wisdom of selfless love. They give each other the most precious gift of all: the sacrifice of something deeply personal for the sake of the other’s happiness.
The Lasting Message of “The Gift of the Magi”
“The Gift of the Magi” remains a timeless classic because it speaks to the enduring power of love and sacrifice, especially during the Christmas season. It reminds us that the most meaningful gifts are not those bought with money, but those that come from the heart and reflect genuine love and selfless consideration for another person. The story encourages us to look beyond material possessions and appreciate the intangible gifts of love, sacrifice, and devotion that truly enrich our lives. It’s a powerful reminder that, like the magi, we too can offer gifts of great value, even when we have little to give materially – the gift of magi residing in the love and thoughtfulness behind our actions.
