Christmas Outside of Eden by Coningsby Dawson
C >>
Coningsby Dawson >> Christmas Outside of Eden
"I shall never go back to Heaven," the Virgin whispered. "I shall stay
here always and help you nurse him."
"Never go back to Heaven," the angels echoed; "stay here always."
The Woman's eyes became troubled. "But I want him to myself," she
faltered. "I don't want helping." Then she ceased to frown, for she had
discovered a stronger argument. "Besides, what about God? You wouldn't
leave Him all by Himself in Heaven. He'd be lonely."
The Virgin nodded her head vigorously. "I would, for I also am a woman.
There are no babies in Heaven. I couldn't be happy without a baby."
Behind her the angels nodded their haloes. "No babies in Heaven.
Couldn't be happy without a baby."
It must have been so much talking that disturbed him; the baby woke up.
As he opened his eyes and saw the Queen of Heaven bending over him, he
smiled. It was his first smile. On the instant the Woman, like all
mothers, became jealous and snatched him back into her own possession.
She liked to believe that no one, not even the Man, could make him as
comfortable as she could. Piling her golden hair upon her knees to make
a pillow for him, she laid him naked on his back and commenced playing
with his toes. If he had not given her his first smile, she would at
least make certain of his second.
She was so taken up with her playing that she did not notice who had
entered. She was the only one who had not noticed. The angels were
cowering against the walls of the cave. The Man had roused and crouched
covering his face with his hands. Only the Virgin stood upright, meek
and fearless, with a look of unconquerable challenge. The Woman was
quite oblivious; she went on with her mother-nonsense. And there stood
God regarding her through a cloud of puzzlement and anger.
The game that she played with the baby-feet she was inventing on the
spur of the moment. Starting with the tiniest toe, she wiggled it.
Then she wiggled the next tiniest, and the next tiniest, and the next
tiniest, till she had come to the biggest of the tiny toes. To each toe
as she wiggled it, she gave a name; when she had wiggled them all she
buried her face in the fat, kicking legs.
"And this is Peedy Peedy," she said as she wiggled the littlest toe.
"And this next babiest is Polly Loody. And this in the middle is Lady
Fissle. And this tall fellow is Lally Vassal. And last we come of the
big, big toe, who's king of them all. His name is Great Ormondon." Then
she dived her lips into the little squirming legs and kissed them as if
she were going to make a meal of them.
She had to do it four times before the baby smiled at her. At first he
only looked serious and astonished. The fifth time his smile broadened
and he gurgled. But the sixth, as she came to "The Great Ormondon," he
burst into a crowing laugh. Never before had a laugh been heard in earth
or Heaven. It was so surprising that the angels ceased from cowering and
the Man uncovered his face to see better.
Then God spoke. His voice was kind and tender like the cooing of
doves--so kind and tender that the Woman, discovering His presence,
wasn't a bit frightened. Sweeping the hair back from her eyes, she
nodded to Him in the old friendly fashion in which she had been used to
greet Him in Eden.
"Can you make him do it again?" God asked.
He came nearer and leant above her shoulder. So she made the baby laugh
again.
"Could I make him?"
"Try," said the Woman.
So God wiggled the little toes, starting with the tiniest, and the Woman
whispered the five magic names to Him secretly so that He might say them
all correctly. "Peedy Peedy. Polly Loody. Lady Fissle. Lally Vassal. And
the Great Ormondon."
When God boomed out the last large sounding name, the baby doubled his
little fists, crowing and laughing unmistakably. Then God laughed, too,
and the Virgin, and all the Hosts of Heaven, and the Man and the Woman,
till at last the dog and the robin couldn't restrain themselves any
longer and joined in His laughter. When once they'd started laughing it
was difficult to stop. Besides, they didn't want to stop. They were
doing it for the first time and they liked the feeling of it. God
laughed till the tears streamed down His face. By the time He held up
His hand for silence, there was scarcely an angel who wasn't wearing his
halo crooked.
"That's done us all good," said God. "I must have a baby for my very own
exactly like him. I almost think that everybody ought to have babies."
Then catching sight of the dog and the robin, He added, "I mean the
animals, too."
He turned to the Man. "What day is this? I've not been counting since I
ceased to walk in Eden."
The Man answered humbly. "Dear God, it is the twenty-fifth of December."
"I must remember that," said God thoughtfully. And then to the Virgin,
"Come. It grows late. There is no one to light the lamps of Heaven. You
shall have your desire; for you, too, are a woman."
And the robins say that God did remember, for it was on the twenty-fifth
of December, centuries later, that his own son was born into the world.
They say that the limestone ridge within sight of Eden was the spot
where Bethlehem grew up after Eden vanished. They even say that the cave
to which Mary came on another winter's night, when the doors of the inn
had been closed against her, was the very same. There, where the world's
first baby had been born, she wrapped God's son in swaddling clothes and
laid him in a manger, for the cave had now become a stable. Perhaps the
heavenly host who sang "Peace and Goodwill" to the shepherds was the
same, though the robins do not assert that.
Of one thing they are certain: that every time a baby is born God
laughs again and His laughter travels down the ages. And that is why on
Christmas Day everyone is especially kind to children, because it was a
little child who gave the first laugh and taught grown people, even God
Himself, how easy it is to love when one is merry.
THE END
CHRISTMAS OUTSIDE OF EDEN
_By_
CONINGSBY DAWSON
_Author of_ "The Little House,"
"The Seventh Christmas,"
"Carry On," etc.
WITH _ILLUSTRATIONS_ BY
EUGENE FRANCIS SAVAGE
A delightful Christmas fantasy told with inimitable charm and delicate
humor. It is "the story the robins tell as they huddle beneath the holly
on the Eve of Christmas"--the sensation created by the birth of the
first baby, among the animals on earth, the angels in heaven, and even
in the mind of the surprised Almighty Himself. The conception of the
Deity is a primitive one, as required by the nature of the tale, and the
story should be read as a "myth-story."
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
_Publishers_ NEW YORK