By Elizabeth Barhydt
For many in New Canaan and around the world, treasured holiday traditions include a bedtime story that begins, “’Twas the night before Christmas,” on Christmas Eve. We include it here in its entirety for you to read to your family on Christmas Eve if you would like.
While there is some disagreement over the authorship of this now famous poem, most believe it was penned by Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863).
According to the Library of Congress American Memory project, Moore wrote the tale 202 years ago, on Christmas Eve 1822, while traveling to his Chelsea-district home from Greenwich Village where he had picked up the turkeys that his family donated each holiday season.
Moore created the poem, A Visit from St. Nicholas (now known as ’Twas the Night Before Christmas), to read to his own six children that evening. His vision was likely strongly influenced by the vivid description of St. Nicholas written by Moore’s friend, Washington Irving, in A History of New York (1809).
Irving was the son of a Presbyterian minister and, more famously, the author of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle. He wrote a similarly enhanced account of the founding of New York City. In it he explained how St. Nicholas came in a dream to Dutch explorers who were scouting a location for New Amsterdam, now Manhattan.
Yes, the founding of New York City, in Irving’s account, was divinely inspired by St. Nicholas.
Clement Moore would have been influenced as well by his famous father, Benjamin Moore, who was the Episcopal minister of Trinity Church and who served as the Episcopal bishop of New York, taking part in the inauguration of George Washington as the nation’s first president.
The poem was actually first published anonymously in the Troy Sentinel newspaper on Dec. 23, 1823.
A graduate of Columbia University, Clement Moore was a scholar of Hebrew and a professor of Oriental and Greek literature at the General Theological Seminary in Manhattan.
Moore portrayed St. Nicholas as arriving on Christmas Eve rather than Christmas Day. This small detail shifted focus away from stronger religious associations and created a more child-centric Christmas spirit.
His light-hearted poem was originally not meant for publication and was likely submitted without Moore even knowing. Moore did eventually acknowledge being the author, fifteen years later.
His little poem has found its way into the homes and hearts of millions across the world. On Christmas Eve, in our home, our holiday will most certainly include this story.
After our church’s Christmas eve service everyone will open one present. The contents of these presents is never a surprise—always new Christmas pajamas, washed and ready to wear that very night.
Then there will be hot cocoa while we sit by a fire and listen as Peter reads this magical tale.
Twas
the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas
soon would be there;
The children were nestled
all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains
for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn
there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed
to see what was the matter.
Away to the window
I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters
and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast
of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday
to objects below,
When what to my wondering
eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and
eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver
so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he
must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles
his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted,
and called them by name!
ìNow, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on,
Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch!
to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away!
dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before
the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the
coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys,
and St. Nicholas too—
And then, in a twinkling,
I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing
of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head,
and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur,
from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all
tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had
flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler,
just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled!
his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses,
his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth
was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin
was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held
tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled
his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and
a little round belly
That shook when he laughed,
like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump,
a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him,
in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and
a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know
I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word,
but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings;
then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod,
up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh,
to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew
like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim,
ere he drove out of sight—
ìHappy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!î
Happy holidays from our Sentinel family to yours. May your holiday be filled with warmth and joy.
