The poem “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” (originally titled “A Visit from St. Nicholas”) is most widely attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, a scholar and professor from New York who first claimed authorship in 1837. However, a long-standing literary controversy suggests the true author may be Henry Livingston Jr.
The Two Primary Claimants
- Clement Clarke Moore (1779–1863): A professor of Oriental and Greek literature who allegedly wrote the poem for his children in 1822. It was first published anonymously in the Troy Sentinel on December 23, 1823. Moore officially included it in his own volume of poems in 1844.
- Henry Livingston Jr. (1748–1828): A farmer and poet from Poughkeepsie whose descendants claim he began reciting the poem as early as 1807—long before its 1823 publication.
The Authorship Controversy
- Stylistic Evidence: Some scholars, such as Vassar professor Donald Foster, argue that the poem’s meter and playful tone match Livingston’s other light verse better than Moore’s typically stern, moralistic style.
- Linguistic Evidence: Livingston’s supporters point to the use of “Dunder and Blixem” (Dutch for “Thunder and Lightning”) as evidence, noting Livingston’s Dutch heritage. Moore later updated these to the German “Donder and Blitzen”.
- Modern Analysis: Recent computational stylistics and forensic linguistic tests have provided conflicting results; some favor Livingston, while others—including 2023 studies using advanced software—conclude that Moore is the more likely author.
A Visit from St. Nicholas
‘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, Donder 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!”
Source: The Random House Book of Poetry for Children (Random House Inc., 1983)