For youngsters all over the world, Christmas is a day of pure joy and excitement.
Except for that sub-set of children whose birthdays also fall on December twenty-fifth. They can’t help feeling a little short-changed.
Oh, their parents try to make up for it, usually by doubling up on the presents. But children who were Christmas-Day babies never get to enjoy that feeling of having a special day all of their own to be celebrated, the way kids born on the other 364 days of the year do.
This was young Annie Ide’s lament. She had been born on Christmas Day, and as soon as she was old enough to understand what Christmas and birthdays were, she felt a little cheated every time the Yule season rolled around.
On the whole, Annie didn’t have much to complain about. She lived a pretty good life as the daughter of successful Vermont lawyer Henry Clay Ide and his wife, Mary. Mr. Ide enjoyed a certain amount of political prominence, as well. He had been the state attorney, and then a member of the Vermont state senate.
In 1891, Henry Ide’s political career took him to the south Pacific island of Samoa. At the time, Samoa was jointly held by the United States and Great Britain and Germany, and each nation was represented on the island by a commissioner. President Benjamin Harrison appointed Henry to be the American commissioner.
As it would develop, it was an appointment that would change his daughter Annie’s life, and her attitude toward Christmas, forever.
Henry chose not to uproot his family. Besides Annie, there were three other Ide children, and he felt it best to leave them in Vermont, under the watchful care of their mother. So when Henry arrived in Samoa to assume his duties, he found his initial days there rather lonely. It was fortunate then that he soon made the acquaintance of one of the island’s more popular couples---Louis, an expatriated Scotsman, and his American wife, Fanny.
They had settled on Samoa only a year before, the tropical climate being beneficial to Louis’ ill health.
Thanks to Louis and Fanny’s guidance, Henry learned the subtleties of dealing with the native population and rapidly became well regarded by the locals. And personally, Henry enjoyed Louis’ elegant discourses and Fanny’s earthy wit and charm, while they appreciated his easy-going manner and lack of pretension. As a “geographic bachelor”, Henry was often a guest for meals at their home.
It was during one of these occasions, in November, when the dinner conversation rolled around to the topic of the upcoming holidays. Henry told them how his daughter Annie, having been born on Christmas Day, always felt depressed over not having “a real birthday”. Of course, she always got more presents than her brother and sisters. Still, Annie felt robbed of having a special celebration that was all her own.
But, said Henry, Annie had been born on Christmas; you couldn’t change the fact of it.
Louis, however, wasn’t as resigned. After their dinner guest departed, he got an idea. In his younger days, to please his father, Louis had earned a law degree, but he had barely used it.
He was going to use it, now.
On Christmas morning, 1891, in the Ide home in Saint Johnsbury, Vermont---as in homes everywhere---the children excitedly descended the stairs and swooped into the living room, eager to see what had been left for them under the huge Christmas tree. As usual, Annie was the last one to come down, glumly aware that the fact that it was also her birthday was the last thing on the minds of her brother and sisters.
It wasn’t, though, the last thing on the mind of someone she had never met, some six thousand miles away.
As always, Annie’s pile of gifts under the tree was twice as tall as those of the other children, but this time, there was something else. Mrs. Ide stood her daughter in front of the tree and pointed to a rolled document that had been hung there as a decoration.
“This is for you,” said Mary Ide, with a gentle smile.
Curiously, Annie plucked the paper from the tree and unrolled it. Curiosity turned to puzzlement when she saw the words at the top: “Last Will and Testament”.
She laboriously read her way through the stilted, formal language. Under “Deed of Gift” came the usual bequests, things left to people she had never heard of.
At least until she got down to the middle of the page and saw a very familiar name.
Her own!
Eagerly, the delighted girl read on. There were some other clauses. One whimsically stated that, should Annie refuse the bequest, then all rights and privileges to the birthday would transfer to the President of the United States.
Another requested that Annie append her name with the addition of “Louisa”, at least in private. This, no doubt, had been inserted as a private joke by the signatory of the will . . .
. . . Louis, her father’s friend in far-away Samoa, with his signature duly witnessed and notarised.
The Ide family treated Annie’s “new birthday” with all seriousness. The following year, they threw a small party for her on the thirteenth of November, and for the first time, Annie experienced the joy of having a special day all of her own, without it being overshadowed by the festivities of Christmas. But that was nothing compared to what happened the year after that.
In 1893, Henry Ide brought his family to Samoa. They arrived on November twelfth. The next day, the Ides were guests at a huge feast arranged the local population and hosted by Louis and Fanny, in honour of Annie’s new birthday.
Louis and Annie would barely have time to get to know each other, though, for Louis died the following year of a cerebral hæmorrhage, at the age of forty-four.
For the rest of her days---in accordance with Louis’ bequest---Annie and her family and friends celebrated her birthday on November thirteenth. And Christmas became a day of wonder and gaiety for her, as it was for everyone else, since she no longer felt like a “forgotten child”.
Something else Annie insisted upon. She changed her middle name to “Louisa” and kept it for the rest of her life.
And it would be a long and fruitful life. She grew into a young woman of charm and breeding and attracted the eye of Congressman William Bourke Cockran, whom she wed in 1906. It was a happy marriage that lasted until his death seventeen years later. Annie herself would live to a ripe old age, celebrating her last birthday on November thirteenth, 1944.
Just one more thing . . . .
As lovely a tale as it is, the story of Annie’s Christmas legacy wouldn’t seem to be notable enough to even make it into the dustbin of history. And it wouldn’t have been---except for the man who bequeathed his birthday to her, a young girl that he had never met.
You see, that will wasn’t the only thing he had ever written. Or even the most notable thing.
He was the author of many works, but most memorably, for a dark tale that wallowed in the seamier side of man. To this day, it remains the seminal novel of the vile, brutish side within us all. And if you’ve never read it, you’ve most certainly seen one of the over two dozen film and television adaptations of it.
Yet, the same man who wrote of such evil and depravity was also a man of such heart that, with one thoughtful gesture, he brightened the Christmas of a young girl’s life and all of her Christmases to come.
To his friends and family, he was known familiarly by his middle name of “Louis”. But the rest of us---particularly, if you were paying attention in high school---recognise him only by his full name . . .
Robert Louis Stevenson,
author of The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
From Cheryl and myself, to all of you, our fondest wishes for a Merry Christmas, and many more of them!
Replies
Merry Christmas, Commander!!
Merry Christmas, Commander. I have a collection of Robert Louis Stevenson's short Pacific fiction in my to-read pile, which includes my favourite story of his, "The Bottle Imp". There's an article on the story's sources here.
Thank you for another great holiday story. Merry Christmas to you and yours.
Wonderful story, Commander! May you and your loved ones have a Merry Christmas!
And may we all have one as well!
Nice,
Merry Christmas.
Good one! Merry Christmas to all.
Mr.Stevenson looks quite the nasty fellow in the photo - thanks for sharing another bit of history with us, Commander.
A Merry Christmas and blessings to all in the New Year!