IX
THE FESTIVAL OF SAINT NICHOLAS
We all know how, before the Christmas tree began to flourish in thehome-life of our country, a certain "right jolly old elf," with "eighttiny reindeer," used to drive his sleigh-load of toys up to ourhousetops, and then bound down the chimney to fill the stockings sohopefully hung by the fireplace. His friends called him Santa Claus, andthose who were most intimate ventured to say "Old Nick." It was saidthat he originally came from Holland. Doubtless he did; but, if so, hecertainly like many other foreigners changed his ways very much afterlanding upon our shores. In Holland, Saint Nicholas is a veritablesaint, and often appears in full costume, with his embroidered robes,glittering with gems and gold, his mitre, his crozier and his jeweledgloves. _Here_ Santa Claus comes rollicking along, on the twenty-fifthof December, our holy Christmas morn. But in Holland, Saint Nicholasvisits earth on the fifth, a time especially appropriated to him. Earlyon the morning of the sixth, he distributes his candies, toys andtreasures, then vanishes for a year.
Christmas day is devoted by the Hollanders to church rites and pleasantfamily visiting. It is on Saint Nicholas' Eve that their young peoplebecome half wild with joy and expectation. To some of them it is a sorrytime, for the saint is very candid, and if any of them have been badduring the past year, he is quite sure to tell them so. Sometimes hecarries a birch rod under his arm and advises the parents to give themscoldings in place of confections, and floggings instead of toys.
It was well that the boys hastened to their abodes on that bright winterevening, for in less than an hour afterward, the saint made hisappearance in half the homes of Holland. He visited the king's palaceand in the selfsame moment appeared in Annie Bouman's comfortable home.Probably one of our silver half dollars would have purchased all thathis saintship left at the peasant Bouman's; but a half-dollar's worthwill sometimes do for the poor what hundreds of dollars may fail to dofor the rich; it makes them happy and grateful, fills them with newpeace and love.
Hilda van Gleck's little brothers and sisters were in a high state ofexcitement that night. They had been admitted into the grand parlor;they were dressed in their best, and had been given two cakes apiece atsupper. Hilda was as joyous as any. Why not? Saint Nicholas would nevercross a girl of fourteen from his list, just because she was tall andlooked almost like a woman. On the contrary, he would probably exerthimself to do honor to such an august looking damsel. Who could tell? Soshe sported and laughed and danced as gaily as the youngest, and was thesoul of all their merry games. Father, mother and grandmother looked onapprovingly; so did grandfather, before he spread his large redhandkerchief over his face, leaving only the top of his skullcapvisible. This kerchief was his ensign of sleep.
Earlier in the evening all had joined in the fun. In the generalhilarity, there had seemed to be a difference only in bulk betweengrandfather and the baby. Indeed a shade of solemn expectation now andthen flitting across the faces of the younger members, had made themseem rather more thoughtful than their elders.
Now the spirit of fun reigned supreme. The very flames danced andcapered in the polished grate. A pair of prim candles that had beenstaring at the Astral lamp began to wink at other candles far away inthe mirrors. There was a long bell-rope suspended from the ceiling inthe corner, made of glass beads netted over a cord nearly as thick asyour wrist. It generally hung in the shadow and made no sign; butto-night it twinkled from end to end. Its handle of crimson glass sentreckless dashes of red at the papered wall turning its dainty bluestripes into purple. Passers-by halted to catch the merry laughterfloating, through curtain and sash, into the street, then skipped ontheir way with a startled consciousness that the village was wide awake.At last matters grew so uproarious that the grandsire's red kerchiefcame down from his face with a jerk. What decent old gentleman couldsleep in such a racket! Mynheer Van Gleck regarded his children withastonishment. The baby even showed symptoms of hysterics. It was hightime to attend to business. Madame suggested that if they wished to seethe good Saint Nicholas, they should sing the same loving invitationthat had brought him the year before.
The baby stared and thrust his fist into his mouth as Mynheer put himdown upon the floor. Soon he sat erect, and looked with a sweet scowl atthe company. With his lace and embroideries, and his crown of blueribbon and whalebone (for he was not quite past the tumbling age) helooked like the king of the babies.
The other children, each holding a pretty willow basket, formed at oncein a ring, and moved slowly around the little fellow, lifting theireyes, meanwhile, for the saint to whom they were about to addressthemselves was yet in mysterious quarters.
Madame commenced playing softly upon the piano; soon the voicesrose--gentle youthful voices--rendered all the sweeter for their tremor:
"Welcome, friend! Saint Nicholas, welcome! Bring no rod for us, to-night! While our voices bid thee, welcome, Every heart with joy is light!
Tell us every fault and failing, We will bear thy keenest railing, So we sing--so we sing-- Thou shalt tell us everything!
Welcome, friend! Saint Nicholas, welcome! Welcome to this merry band! Happy children greet thee, welcome! Thou art glad'ning all the land!
Fill each empty hand and basket, 'Tis thy little ones who ask it, So we sing--so we sing-- Thou wilt bring us everything!"
During the chorus, sundry glances, half in eagerness, half in dread, hadbeen cast toward the polished folding doors. Now a loud knocking washeard. The circle was broken in an instant. Some of the little ones,with a strange mixture of fear and delight, pressed against theirmother's knee. Grandfather bent forward, with his chin resting upon hishand; grandmother lifted her spectacles; Mynheer van Gleck, seated bythe fireplace, slowly drew his meerschaum from his mouth, while Hildaand the other children settled themselves beside him in an expectantgroup.
The knocking was heard again.
"Come in," said Madame, softly.
The door slowly opened, and Saint Nicholas, in full array, stood beforethem. You could have heard a pin drop!
Soon he spoke. What a mysterious majesty in his voice! what kindlinessin his tones!
"Karel van Gleck, I am pleased to greet thee, and thy honored vrouwKathrine, and thy son and his good vrouw Annie!
"Children, I greet ye all! Hendrick, Hilda, Broom, Katy, Huygens, andLucretia! And thy cousins, Wolfert, Diedrich, Mayken, Voost, andKatrina! Good children ye have been, in the main, since I last accostedye. Diedrich was rude at the Haarlem fair last Fall, but he has tried toatone for it since. Mayken has failed of late in her lessons, and toomany sweets and trifles have gone to her lips, and too few stivers toher charity-box. Diedrich, I trust, will be a polite, manly boy for thefuture, and Mayken will endeavor to shine as a student. Let herremember, too, that economy and thrift are needed in the foundation of aworthy and generous life. Little Katy has been cruel to the cat morethan once. Saint Nicholas can hear the cat cry when its tail is pulled.I will forgive her if she will remember from this hour that the smallestdumb creatures have feeling and must not be abused."
As Katy burst into a frightened cry, the saint graciously remainedsilent until she was soothed.
"Master Broom," he resumed, "I warn thee that boys who are in the habitof putting snuff upon the foot-stove of the school mistress may one daybe discovered and receive a flogging----"
_The door slowly opened_]
[Master Broom colored and stared in great astonishment.]
"But thou art such an excellent scholar, I shall make thee no furtherreproof.
"Thou, Hendrick, didst distinguish thyself in the archery match lastSpring, and hit the Doel[16], though the bird was swung before it tounsteady thine eye. I give thee credit for excelling in manly sport andexercise--though I must not unduly countenance thy boat-racing since itleaves thee too little time for thy proper studies.
[Footnote 1
6: Bull's-Eye.]
"Lucretia and Hilda shall have a blessed sleep to-night. Theconsciousness of kindness to the poor, devotion in their souls, andcheerful, hearty obedience to household rule will render them happy.
"With one and all I avow myself well content. Goodness, industry,benevolence and thrift have prevailed in your midst. Therefore, myblessing upon you--and may the New Year find all treading the paths ofobedience, wisdom and love. To-morrow you shall find more substantialproofs that I have been in your midst. Farewell!"
With these words came a great shower of sugar-plums, upon a linen sheetspread out in front of the doors. A general scramble followed. Thechildren fairly tumbled over each other in their eagerness to fill theirbaskets. Madame cautiously held the baby down in their midst, till thechubby little fists were filled. Then the bravest of the youngsterssprang up and burst open the closed doors--in vain they peered into themysterious apartment--Saint Nicholas was nowhere to be seen.
Soon there was a general rush to another room, where stood a table,covered with the finest and whitest of linen damask. Each child, in aflutter of excitement, laid a shoe upon it. The door was then carefullylocked, and its key hidden in the mother's bedroom. Next followedgood-night kisses, a grand family-procession to the upper floor, merryfarewells at bedroom doors--and silence, at last, reigned in the VanGleck mansion.
* * * * *
Early the next morning, the door was solemnly unlocked and opened in thepresence of the assembled household, when lo! a sight appeared provingSaint Nicholas to be a saint of his word!
Every shoe was filled to overflowing, and beside each stood many acolored pile. The table was heavy with its load of presents--candies,toys, trinkets, books and other articles. Every one had gifts, fromgrandfather down to the baby.
Little Katy clapped her hands with glee, and vowed, inwardly, that thecat should never know another moment's grief.
Hendrick capered about the room, flourishing a superb bow and arrowsover his head. Hilda laughed with delight as she opened a crimson boxand drew forth its glittering contents. The rest chuckled and said "Oh!"and "Ah!" over their treasures, very much as we did here in America onlast Christmas day.
With her glittering necklace in her hands, and a pile of books in herarms, Hilda stole toward her parents and held up her beaming face for akiss. There was such an earnest, tender look in her bright eyes that hermother breathed a blessing as she leaned over her.
"I am delighted with this book, thank you, father," she said, touchingthe top one with her chin. "I shall read it all day long."
"Aye, sweetheart," said Mynheer, "you cannot do better. There is no onelike Father Cats. If my daughter learns his 'MORAL EMBLEMS' by heart,the mother and I may keep silent. The work you have there is theEmblems--his best work. You will find it enriched with rare engravingsfrom Van de Venne."
[Considering that the back of the book was turned away, Mynheercertainly showed a surprising familiarity with an unopened volume,presented by Saint Nicholas. It was strange, too, that the saint shouldhave found certain things made by the elder children, and had actuallyplaced them upon the table, labeled with parents' and grandparents'names. But all were too much absorbed in happiness to notice slightinconsistencies. Hilda saw, on her father's face, the rapt expression healways wore when he spoke of Jacob Cats, so she put her armful of booksupon the table and resigned herself to listen.]
"Old Father Cats, my child, was a great poet, not a writer of plays likethe Englishman, Shakespeare, who lived in his time. I have read them inthe German and very good they are--very, very good--but not like FatherCats. Cats sees no daggers in the air; he has no white women falling inlove with dusky Moors; no young fools sighing to be a lady's glove; nocrazy princes mistaking respectable old gentlemen for rats. No, no. Hewrites only sense. It is great wisdom in little bundles, a bundle forevery day of your life. You can guide a state with Cats' poems, and youcan put a little baby to sleep with his pretty songs. He was one of thegreatest men of Holland. When I take you to the Hague I will show youthe Kloosterkerk where he lies buried. _There_ was a man for you tostudy, my sons! he was good through and through. What did he say?
"'Oh, Lord, let me obtain this from Thee To live with patience, and to die with pleasure!'[17]
[Footnote 17:
O Heere! laat my dat van uwen hand verwerven, Te leven met gedult, en met vermaak te sterven.]
"Did patience mean folding his hands? No, he was a lawyer, statesman,ambassador, farmer, philosopher, historian, and poet. He was keeper ofthe Great Seal of Holland! He was a--Bah! there is too much noise here,I cannot talk"--and Mynheer, looking with astonishment into the bowl ofhis meerschaum--for it had "gone out"--nodded to his vrouw and left theapartment in great haste.
The fact is, his discourse had been accompanied throughout with asubdued chorus of barking dogs, squeaking cats and bleating lambs, tosay nothing of a noisy ivory cricket, that the baby was whirling withinfinite delight. At the last, little Huygens taking advantage of theincreasing loudness of Mynheer's tones, had ventured a blast on his newtrumpet, and Wolfert had hastily attempted an accompaniment on the drum.This had brought matters to a crisis, and well for the little creaturesthat it had. The saint had left no ticket for them to attend a lectureon Jacob Cats. It was not an appointed part of the ceremonies. Thereforewhen the youngsters saw that the mother looked neither frightened noroffended, they gathered new courage. The grand chorus rose triumphant,and frolic and joy reigned supreme.
Good Saint Nicholas! For the sake of the young Hollanders, I, for one,am willing to acknowledge him, and defend his reality against allunbelievers.
Carl Schummel was quite busy during that day, assuring little children,confidentially, that not Saint Nicholas, but their own fathers andmothers had produced the oracle and loaded the tables. But _we_ knowbetter than that.
And yet if this were a saint, why did he not visit the Brinker cottagethat night? Why was that one home, so dark and sorrowful, passed by?
Hans Brinker; Or, The Silver Skates Page 12