reasons for bringing it such a long distance, held up their hands,
and admired the foresight of his father, considering him an exceeding
prudent and wise man to think of such matters. Some of them wanted to
buy it on speculation, but Claas was too well acquainted with its
value to set a price on it. While they were thus chaffering, an old
sailor, who had accompanied the renowned Heinrick Hudson as cabin boy,
in his first voyage to the Manhadoes, happening to come by and hear
them, swore a great Dutch oath, and called Claas a splutterkin for
bringing stones all the way from Holland, saying that there were enough
at the Manhadoes to furnish lapstones for the whole universe. Whereupon
Claas thought to himself, “What a fine country it must be, where stones
are so plenty.”
In process of time, as all things, and especially voyagings by
sea, have an end, the vessel came in sight of the highlands of
Neversink—vulgarly called by would-be learned writers, Navesink—and
Claas and the rest, who had never seen such vast mountains before, did
think that it was a wall, built up from the earth to the sky, and that
there was no world beyond.
Favoured by a fine south wind, whose balmy freshness had awakened the
young spring into early life and beauty, they shot like an arrow from
a bow through the Narrows, and sailing along the heights of Staaten
Island, came in sight of the illustrious city of New-Amsterdam, which,
though at that period containing but a few hundred people, I shall
venture to predict, in some future time, may actually number its tens
of thousands.
Truly it was a beautiful city, and a beautiful sight as might be
seen of a spring morning. As they came through Buttermilk Channel,
they beheld with delighted astonishment the fort, the church, the
governor's house, the great dock jutting out into the salt river, the
Stadt Huys, the rondeel, and a goodly assemblage of houses, with the
gable ends to the street, as before the villanous introduction of new
fashions, and at the extremity of the city, the gate and wall, from
whence Wall-street deriveth its name. But what above all gloriously
delighted Claas, was a great windmill, towering in the air, and
spreading its vast wings on the rising ground along the Broadway,
between Liberty and Courtlandt streets, the which reminded him of home
and his parents. The prospect rejoiced them all mightily, for they
thought to themselves, “We have come to a little Holland far over the
sea.”
So far as I know, it was somewhere about the year of our Lord one
thousand six hundred and sixty, or thereabout, and in the month of
May, that Claas landed in the New World; but of the precise day of
the month I cannot be certain, seeing what confusion of dates hath
been caused by that idolatrous device of Pope Gregory, called the New
Style, whereby events that really happened in one year are falsely
put down to another, by which means history becomes naught. The first
thing he thought of, was to provide himself a home, for be it known
it was not then the fashion to live in taverns and boarding houses,
and the man who thus demeaned himself was considered no better than
he should be; nobody would trust or employ him, and he might consider
it a special bounty of the good St. Nicholas, if he escaped a ride
on the wooden horse provided for the punishment of delinquents. So
Claas looked out for a pleasant place whereon to pitch his tent. As he
walked forth for this end, his bowels yearned exceedingly for a lot on
the Broad-street, through which ran a delightful creek, crooked like
unto a ram's horn, the sides of which were low, and, as it were, juicy
with the salt water which did sometimes overflow them at spring tides,
and the full of the moon. More especially the ferry house, with its
never to be forgotten weathercock, did incite him sorely to come and
set himself down thereabout. But he was deterred by the high price of
lots in that favoured region, seeing they asked him as much as five
guilders for the one at the corner of the Broad and Wall streets, a
most unheard-of price, and not to be thought of by a prudent man like
Claas Schlaschenschlinger.
So he sought about elsewhere, though he often looked wistfully at the
fair meads of the Broad-street, and nothing deterred him from ruining
himself by gratifying his longings, but the truly excellent expedient
of counting his money, which I recommend to all honest people, before
they make a bargain. But though he could not settle in Broad-street,
he resolved in his mind to get as nigh as possible, and finding a
lot with a little puddle of brackish water in it large enough for a
goose pond, nigh unto the wall and gate of the city, and just at the
head of what hath lately been called Newstreet—then the region of
unsettled lands—he procured a grant thereof from the schout, scheepens,
and burgomasters, who then ruled the city, for five stivers, being
the amount of fees for writing and recording the deed by the Geheim
Schryver.
Having built himself a comfortable house, with a little stoop to it,
he purchased a pair of geese, or, to be correct and particular, as
becometh a conscientious historian, a goose and gander, that he might
recreate himself with their gambols in the salt puddle, and quietly sat
himself down to the making and mending of shoes. In this he prospered
at first indifferently well, and thereafter mightily, when the people
found that he made shoes, some of which were reported never to wear
out; but this was, as it were, but a sort of figure of speech to
express their excellent qualities.
Every Sunday, after church, in pleasant weather, Claas, instead of
putting off his Sunday suit, as was the wont of the times, used to
go and take a walk in the Ladies' Valley, since called Maiden Lane,
for everything has changed under those arch intruders, the English,
who, I believe, in their hearts, are half Papists. This valley was
an exceeding cool, retired, and pleasant place, being bordered by a
wood, in the which was plenty of pinkster blossoms in the season.
Being a likely young fellow, and dressed in a goodly array of breeches
and what not, he was much noticed, and many a little damsel cast a
sheep's eye upon him as he sat smoking his pipe of a summer afternoon
under the shade of the trees which grew plentifully in that quarter.
I don't know how it was, but so it happened, that in process of time
he made acquaintance with one of these, a buxom creature of rare and
unmatchable lineaments and dimensions, insomuch that she was considered
the beauty of New-Amsterdam, and had refused even the burgomaster,
Barendt Roeloffsen, who was taxed three guilders, being the richest
man of the city. But Aintjie was not to be bought with gold; she loved
Claas because he was a solid young fellow, who plucked for her the most
beautiful pinkster blossoms, and was the most pleasant companion in the
world, for a ramble in the Ladies' Valley.
Report says, but I believe there was no great truth in the story,
that they sometimes QUEESTED[1] together, but of that I profess
myself doubtful. Certain it is, however, that in good time they were
married, to the great content of both, and the great discontent of the
burgomaster, Barendt Roeloffsen.
[1] This word is untranslatable.
In those days young people did not marry to set up a coach, live in
fine houses filled with rich furniture, for which they had no use,
and become bankrupt in a few years. They began in a small way, and
increased their comforts with their means. It was thus with Claas and
his wife, who were always employed in some useful business, and never
ran into extravagance, except it may be on holydays. In particular
Claas always feasted lustily on St. Nicholas his day, because, he was
his patron saint, and he remembered his kindness in faderland.
Thus they went on prospering as folks always do that are industrious
and prudent, every year laying up money, and every year increasing
their family; for be it known, those who are of the true Dutch blood,
always apportion the number of children to the means of providing for
them. They never are caught having children for other people to take
care of. But be this as it may, about this time began the mischievous
and oppressive practice of improving the city, draining the marshes,
cutting down hills, and straightening streets, which hath since grown
to great enormity in this city, insomuch that a man may be said to be
actually impoverished by his property.
Barendt Roeloffsen, who was at the head of the reformers, having a
great estate in vacant lands, which he wanted to make productive at the
expense of his neighbours—Barendt Roeloffsen, I say, bestirred himself
lustily to bring about what he called, in outlandish English, the era
of improvement, and forthwith looked around to see where he should
begin. I have always believed, and so did the people at that time, that
Barendt singled out Claas his goose pond for the first experiment,
being thereunto impelled by an old grudge against Claas, on account of
his having cut him out with the damsel he wished to marry, as before
related.
But, however, Barendt Roeloffsen, who bore a great sway among the
burgomasters, on account of his riches, got a law passed, by hook or by
crook, for draining Claas his pond, at his own expense, making him pay
at the same time for the rise in the value of his property, of which
they did not permit him to be the judge, but took upon themselves to
say what it was. The ancestors of Claas had fought valiantly against
Philip of Spain, in defence of their religion and liberty, and he had
kept up his detestation of oppression by frequently reading the account
of the cruelties committed in the Low Countries by the Spaniard, in
the book which his father had given him on his departure from home.
Besides, he had a great admiration, I might almost say affection, for
his goose pond, as is becoming in every true Dutchman. In it he was
accustomed to see, with singular delight, his geese, now increased to a
goodly flock, sailing about majestically, flapping their wings, dipping
their necks into the water, and making a noise exceedingly tuneful and
melodious. Here, too, his little children were wont to paddle in the
summer days, up to their knees in the water, to their great contentment
as well as recreation, thereby strengthening themselves exceedingly.
Such being the case, Claas resisted the behest of the burgomasters,
declaring that he would appeal to the laws for redress if they
persisted in trespassing on his premises. But what can a man get by the
law at any time, much less when the defendant, as in this case, was
judge as well as a party in the business? After losing a vast deal of
time, which was as money to him, and spending a good portion of what he
had saved for his children, Claas was at length cast in his suit, and
the downfall of his goose pond irrevocably decreed.
It was a long time before he recovered this blow, and when he
did, Fortune, as if determined to persevere in her ill offices,
sent a blacksmith from Holland, who brought over with him the new
and diabolical invention of hobnails, the which he so strenuously
recommended to the foolish people, who are prone to run after
novelties, that they, one and all, had their shoes stuck full of
nails, whereby they did clatter about the streets like unto a horse
newly shod. As might be expected, the business of shoemaking decreased
mightily upon this, insomuch that the shoes might be said to last for
ever; and I myself have seen a pair that have descended through three
generations, the nails of which shone like unto silver sixpences. Some
people supposed this was a plot of Barendt Roeloffsen, to complete
the ruin of poor Claas; but whether it was or not, it is certain that
such was the falling off in his trade, on account of the pestilent
introduction of hobnails, that, at the end of the year, Claas found
that he had gone down hill at a great rate. The next year it was still
worse, and thus, in the course of a few more, from bad to worse, he at
last found himself without the means of support for himself, his wife,
and his little children. But what shows the goodness of Providence, it
is worthy of record, that from this time his family, miraculously as
it were, ceased to increase.
Neither begging nor running in debt without the prospect of paying
was in fashion in those days, nor were there any societies to invite
people to idleness and improvidence by the certainty of being relieved
from their consequences without the trouble of asking. Claas tried
what labouring day and night would do, but there was no use in making
shoes when there was nobody to buy them. His good wife tried the
magic of saving; but where there is nothing left to save, economy is
to little purpose. He tried to get into some other business, but the
wrath of Barendt Roeloffsen was upon him, and the whole influence of
the burgomasters stood in his way on account of the opposition he had
made to the march of improvement. He then offered his house and lot for
sale; but here again his old enemy Barendt put a spoke in his wheel,
going about among the people and insinuating that as Claas had paid
nothing for his lot, the title was good for nothing. So one by one he
tried all ways to keep want from his door; but it came at last, and one
Newyear's eve, in the year of our Lord—I don't know what, the family
was hovering round a miserable fire, not only without the customary
means of enjoying the festivity of the season, but destitute of the
very necessaries of life.
The evening was cold and raw, and the heavy moanings of a keen
northeast wind announced the approach of a snow storm. The little
children cowered over the almost expiring embers, shivering with cold
and hunger; the old cat lay half buried in the ashes to keep herself
warm; and the poor father and mother now looked at the little flock of
ragged—no, not ragged—the mother took care of that; and industry can
always ward off rags and dirt. But though not ragged or dirty, they
were miserably clad and worse fed; and as the parents looked first at
them and then at each other, the tears gathered in their eyes until
they ran over.
“We must sell the silver clasps of the Bible my mother gave me, wife,”
said Claas, at last.
“The Goodness forbid,” said she; “we should never prosper after it.”
“We can't prosper worse than we do now, Aintjie.”
“You had better sell the little book about the murders of the
Spaniards, that you sometimes read to me.”
“It has no silver clasps, and will bring nothing,” replied Claas,
despondingly, covering his face with his hand, and seeming to think for
a few moments. All at once he withdrew his hand, and cried,
“The pipe! the meershaum pipe! it is worth a hundred guilders!” and he
ran to the place where he had kept it so carefully that he never used
it once in the whole time he had it in his possession.
He looked at it wistfully, and it brought to his mind the time he
found it in his stocking. He thought of his parents, his brothers, his
sisters, and old faderland, and wished he had never parted from them
to visit the New World. His wife saw what was passing in his heart, and
said,
“Never mind, dear Claas, with these hundred guilders we shall get on
again by the blessing of the good St. Nicholas, whose namesake you are.”
Claas shook his head, and looked at the meershaum, which he could
not bear to part with, because, somehow or other, he could not help
thinking it was the gift of St. Nicholas. The wind now freshened, and
moaned more loudly than ever, and the snow began to come in through
the crevices of the door and windows. The cold increased apace, and
the last spark of fire was expiring in the chimney. There was darkness
without and within, for the candle, the last they had, was just going
out.
Claas, without knowing what he was doing, rubbed the pipe against his
sleeve, as it were mechanically.
He had scarcely commenced rubbing, when the door suddenly opened, and
without more ado, a little man, with a right ruddy good-humoured face,
as round as an apple, and a cocked beaver, white with snow, walked in,
without so much as saying, “By your leave,” and sitting himself by the
side of the yffrouw, began to blow at the fire, and make as if he was
warming his fingers, though there was no fire there, for that matter.
Now Claas was a good-natured fellow, and though he had nothing to give,
except a welcome, which is always in the power of everybody, yet he
wished to himself he had more fire to warm people's fingers. After
a few moments, the little man rubbed his hands together, and looking
around him, with a good-humoured smile, said,
“Mynheer Schlaschenschlinger, methinks it might not be amiss to
replenish this fire a little; 'tis a bitter cold night, and my fingers
are almost frostbitten.”
“Alack, mynheer,” quoth Claas, “I would, with all my heart, but I have
nothing wherewith to warm myself and my children, unless I set fire to
my own house. I am sorry I cannot entertain thee better.”
Upon this the little man broke the cane with which he walked into two
pieces, which he threw in the chimney, and thereupon the fire began to
blaze so cheerfully that they could see their shadows on the wall, and
the old cat jumped out of the ashes, with her coat well singed, which
made the little jolly fellow laugh heartily.
The sticks burnt and burnt, without going out, and they were soon all
as warm and comfortable as could be. Then the little man said,
“Friend Claas, methinks it would not be much amiss if the good vrouw
here would bestir herself to get something to eat. I have had no dinner
to-day, and come hither on purpose to make merry with thee. Knowest
thou not that this is Newyear's eve?”
“Alack!” replied Claas, “I know it full well; but we have not
wherewithal to keep away hunger, much less to make merry with. Thou
art welcome to all we have, and that is nothing.”
“Come, come, Friend Claas, thou art a prudent man, I know, but I never
thought thou wert stingy before. Bestir thyself, good Aintjie, and see
what thou canst find in that cupboard. I warrant there is plenty of
good fare in it.”
The worthy yffrouw looked rather foolish at this proposal, for she knew
she would find nothing there if she went; but the little man threatened
her, in a good-humoured way, to break the long pipe he carried stuck in
his cocked hat, over her nightcap, if she didn't do as he bid her. So
she went to the cupboard, resolved to bring him out the empty pewter
dishes, to show they had nothing to give him. But when she opened the
cupboard, she started back, and cried out aloud, so that Claas ran to
see what was the matter; and what was his astonishment to find the
cupboard full of all sorts of good things for a notable jollification.
“Aha!” cried the merry little man, “you're caught at last. I knew
thou hadst plenty to entertain a stranger withal; but I suppose thou
wantedst to keep it all to thyself. Come, come! bestir thyself,
Aintjie, for I am as hungry as a schoolboy.”
Aintjie did as she was bid, wondering all the time who this familiar
little man could be; for the city was not so big, but that she knew by
sight everybody that lived in it, and she was sure she had never seen
him before.
In a short time there was a glorious array of good things set out
before them, and they proceeded to enjoy themselves right lustily in
keeping of the merry Newyear's eve. The little man cracked his jokes,
patted little Nicholas—Claas, his youngest son, who was called after
his father—on the head; chucked Aintjie under the chin; said he was
glad she did not wed the splutterkin Barendt Roeloffsen, and set them
so good an example, that they all got as merry as crickets.
By-and-by the little man inquired of Claas concerning his affairs,
and he gave him an account of his early prosperity, and how he had
declined, in spite of all he could do, into poverty and want; so that
he had nothing left but his wife, his children, his Dutch Bible, his
history of the Low Country wars, and his meershaum pipe.
“Aha!” quoth the little man, “you've kept that, hey! Let me see it.”
Claas gave it to him, while the tears came into is eyes, although he
was so merry, to think that he must part with it on the morrow. It was
the pride of his heart, and he set too great a value on it to make any
use of it whatever.
The little man took the pipe, and looking at it, said, as if to himself,
“Yes; here it is! the very identical meershaum out of which the great
Calvin used to smoke. Thou hast done well, Friend Claas, to preserve
it; and thou must keep it as the apple of thine eye all thy life, and
give it as an inheritance to thy children.”
“Alack!” cried Aintjie, “he must sell it to-morrow, or we shall want
wherewithal for a dinner.”
“Yea,” said Claas, “of a truth it must go to-morrow!”
“Be quiet, splutterkin!” cried the little man, merrily; “give me some
more of that spiced beverage, for I am as thirsty as a dry sponge.
Come, let us drink to the Newyear, for it will be here in a few
minutes.”
So they drank a cup to the jolly Newyear, and at that moment the little
boys and negroes, who didn't mind the snow any more than a miller does
flour, began to fire their cannon at a great rate; whereupon the little
man jumped up, and cried out,
“My time is come! I must be off, for I have a great many visits to pay
before sunrise.”
Then he kissed the yffrouw with a hearty smack, just as doth the
illustrious Rip Van Dam, on the like occasions; patted little
Nicholas on the head, and gave him his blessing; after which he did
incontinently leap up the chimney and disappear. Then they knew it was
the good St. Nicholas, and rejoiced mightily in the visit he had paid
them, looking upon it as an earnest that their troubles were over.
The next morning the prudent housewife, according to custom, got up
before the dawn of day to put her house in order, and when she came
to sweep the floor, was surprised to hear something jingle just like
money. Then opening the embers, the sticks which the good saint had
thrown upon the fire again blazed out, and she descried a large purse,
which, on examination, was found filled with golden ducats. Whereupon
she called out to Claas, and they examined the purse, and found
fastened to it a paper bearing this legend:—
“THE GIFT OF SAINT NICHOLAS.”
While they stood in joyful wonder, they heard a great knocking and
confusion of tongues outside the door, and the people calling aloud
upon Claas Schlaschenschlinger to come forth; whereupon he went forth,
and, to his great astonishment, found that his little wooden house had
disappeared in the night, and in its place was standing a gorgeous
and magnificent mansion of Dutch bricks, two stories high, with three
windows in front, all of a different size; and a door cut right out of
the corner, just as it is seen at this blessed day.
The neighbours wondered much, and it was whispered among them, that
the fiend had helped Claas to this great domicil, which was one of the
biggest in the city, and almost equal to that of Barendt Roeloffsen.
But when Claas told them of the visit of St. Nicholas, and showed them
the purse of golden ducats, with the legend upon it, they thought
better of it, and contented themselves with envying him heartily his
good fortune.
I shall not relate how Claas prospered ever afterwards, in spite of his
enemies the burgomasters, who, at last, were obliged to admit him as
one of their number; or how little Aintjie held up her head among the
highest; or how Claas ever after eschewed the lapstone, and, like a
worshipful magistrate, took to bettering the condition of mankind, till
at length he died, and was gathered to his forefathers, full of years
and honours.
All I shall say is, that the great house in New street continued in the
family for several generations, until a degenerate descendant of Claas,
being thereunto incited by the d—l, did sell it to another degenerate
splutterkin, who essayed to pull it down. But mark what followed. No
sooner had the workmen laid hands on it, than the brickbats began to
fly about at such a rate, that they all came away faster than they
went; some with broke heads, and others with broken bones, and not one
could ever be persuaded to meddle with it afterwards.
And let this be a warning to any one who shall attempt to lay their
sacrilegious hands on the LAST OF THE DUTCH HOUSES, the gift of St.
Nicholas, for whoever does so, may calculate, to a certainty on getting
well peppered with brickbats, I can tell them.
THE REVENGE OF SAINT NICHOLAS.
A TALE FOR THE HOLYDAYS.