Though certainly
not a carol in the traditional sense, Clement C. Moore’s wonderful Twas Night Before Christmas (originally
entitled A Visit From St. Nicholas) has
often been set to music. There are
several delightful musical renditions of the poem, and perhaps our favorite
here at the Jade Sphinx is that of Christmas Cowboy Deluxe, Gene Autry (1907-1998), recorded with Rosemary Clooney (1928-2002). If you don’t believe us – listen and see:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6TaQPg10OmA.
(Before
moving on to Mr. Moore and Mr. Claus, a quick word on Gene Autry. The very best Christmas present one could get
is the classic cowboy’s Christmas album.
Autry introduced Frosty the Snowman, as well as Here Comes Santa Claus and Rudolph
The Red-Nosed Reindeer, and his recordings of these numbers are
definitive. In addition, the other songs
on the album – including Santa, Santa,
Santa and the lovely and evocative Merry
Christmas Waltz – are seldom-heard gems, and they have become a tradition
in our household. They should become a
tradition in yours, as well.)
Clement Moore (1779-1863) lived with his beloved
wife, Elizabeth, and their nine children in a large, comfortable Georgian manor
house in what is now the Chelsea section of New York. The estate, called Chelsea, rested on 96
acres of farmland, which hopefully illustrates that, if nothing else, Manhattan
is constantly changing.
Early
one Christmas Eve, in his carriage en route to Washington Market to buy a
holiday turkey, he began composing a Christmas poem for his six-year-old
daughter, Charity. Back home in his
study, he consulted Henry Irving’s History, and finished the poem in three
hours. That night, at supper, he read it
aloud to his family – it was the first time Twas Night Before Christmas was
heard by an audience. It was an instant
hit. Charity brought it to her Sunday
School class, and then friends had the poem published in the Troy, New York Sentinel the following Christmas in
1823. Moore, a scholar and serious
educator, was initially reluctant to admit authorship.
It was
more than 40 years later that the political cartoonist Thomas Nast (1840-1902) created the modern Santa Claus when
illustrating a republication of Moore’s poem.
As cartoonist for the influential illustrated Harper’s Weekly, for each Christmas issue he drew a Santa, which he
claimed was a welcome relief from his usual round of political cartooning. One wonders how he would feel now.
One of
the many interesting things in Santa’s evolution is that Moore originally conceived
of Santa as elf-sized. This somehow got
lost in the details, as Nast’s Santa was republished everywhere: calendars,
cards, posters and wrapping paper. Between
Moore and Nast, the modern Santa Claus was born.
Here’s
the original poem:
'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 my 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 did
appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight
tiny rein-deer,
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:
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now
Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and
Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top
of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away
all!"
As 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 pedler 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 on 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
bowl full 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—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all
a good night!”
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