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 CLAUS? 
 
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IS THERE A SANTA 
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ivS there: a 
 3ANTA 
 CLAUvS ? 
 
 JACOB A.RIIS 
 
 
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 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 1922 
 
 ^11 rights reserved 
 
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 COPYRIGHT, 1904 
 BY THE MACMILLAN' COMPANY 
 
 SET UP AJST) ELECTROTYPED 
 PUBLISHED OCTOBER, 19O4 
 REPRINTED DECEMBER, 1 9^4 
 REPRINTED NOVEMBER, 1912 
 
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IS THERE A SANTA 
 CLAUS? 
 
 a 
 
 D 
 
 
 EARMR. RIIS: 
 ^^A little chap 
 of six on the Western 
 frontier writes to us : 
 
 *' 'Will you please tell me 
 if there is a Santa Claus? 
 Papa says not.' 
 
 ^' Won't you answer 
 him? " 
 
 That was the mes- 
 sage that came to me 
 from an editor last De- 
 
 
 r..^*-.-^' 
 
 
 
 
cember just as I was 
 going on a journey. 
 Why he sent it to me 
 I don't know. Perhaps 
 it was because, when I 
 was a little chap, my 
 home was way up to- 
 ward that white north 
 where even the little 
 boys ride in sleds behind 
 reindeer, as they are 
 the only horses they 
 have. Perhaps it was 
 because when I was a 
 ^*X"^^^ "%. young lad I knew Hans 
 WT^ Christian Andersen, 
 1^ who surely ought to 
 J A^- ^ • know, and spoke his 
 '^^^^^^' tongue. Perhaps it was 
 
 \ 
 
both. I will ask the 
 editor when I see him. 
 Meanwhile, here was 
 his letter, with Christ- 
 mas right at the door, 
 and, as I said, I was 
 going on a journey. 
 
 I buttoned it up in 
 my great coat along with 
 a lot of other letters I 
 didn'thave time to read, 
 and I thought as I went 
 to the depot what a pity 
 it was that my little 
 friend's papa should 
 have forgotten about 
 Santa Claus. We big 
 people do forget the 
 strangest way, and then 
 
we haven't got a bit of 
 a good time any more. 
 
 N 
 
 
 O Santa Claus! 
 If you had asked 
 that car full of people 
 I would have liked to 
 hear the answers they 
 would have given you. 
 No Santa Claus! Why, 
 there was scarce a man 
 in the lot who didn't 
 carry a bundle that 
 looked as if it had just 
 tumbled out of his 
 sleigh. I felt of one 
 slyly, and it was a boy's 
 sled — a ^'flexible flyer," 
 I know, because he left 
 
 c 
 
one at our house the 
 Christmas before; and 
 I distinctly heard the 
 rattling of a pair of 
 skates in that box in 
 the next seat. They 
 were all good-natured, 
 every one, though the 
 train was behind time 
 — that is a sure sign of 
 Christmas. The brake- 
 man wore a piece of 
 mistletoe in his cap and 
 a broad grin on his face, 
 and he said " Merry 
 Christmas" in a way to 
 make a man feel good y^Mil^S^^^^^ 
 all the rest of the day. _jp? 
 
 No Santa 
 
 7 
 
 aus 
 
as 
 
 there? You just 
 him! 
 
 And then the train 
 rolled into the city un- 
 der the big gray dome 
 to which George Wash- 
 ington gave his name, 
 and by-and-by I went 
 through a doorway 
 which all American 
 boys would rather see 
 than go to school a 
 whole week, though 
 they love their teacher 
 dearly. It is true that 
 last winter my own lit- 
 tle lad told the kind man 
 whose house it is that 
 he would rather ride 
 
up and down in the 
 elevator at the hotel, 
 but that was because 
 he was so very little at 
 the time and didn't 
 know things rightly, 
 and, besides, it was his 
 first experience with an 
 elevator. 
 
 As I was saying, I 
 went through the door 
 into a beautiful white 
 hallwith lofty pillars, be- 
 tween which there were 
 regular banks of holly 
 with the red berries 
 shining through, just as 
 if it were out in the 
 woods! And from be- 
 
 ' ••.- it 
 
 imll'l 
 
 
hind one of them there 
 came the merriest laugh 
 you could ever think of. 
 Do you think, now, it 
 was that letter in my 
 pocket that gave that 
 guilty little throb 
 against my heart when I 
 heard it, or what could 
 it have been? I hadn't 
 even time to ask myself 
 the question, for there 
 stoodmyhost all framed 
 in holly, and with the 
 heartiest handclasp. 
 
 ^'Come in," he said, 
 and drew me after. 
 ^^The coffee is waiting." 
 And he beamed upon 
 
the table with the ver- 
 iest Christmas face as 
 he poured it out himself, 
 one cup for his dear 
 wife and one for me. 
 The children — ah! you 
 should have asked them 
 it there was a Santa 
 Claus ! 
 
 A 
 
 ND so we sat and 
 talked, and I told ^ 
 
 my kind friends that 
 my own dear old mo- 
 ther, whom I have not 
 seen for years, was very, 
 very sick in far-away 
 Denmark and longing 
 for her bov, and 
 
^ 
 
 mist came into my 
 hostess's gentle eyes 
 and she said, ^^Let us 
 cable over and tell her 
 how much we think of 
 her/' though she had 
 never seen her. And it 
 was no sooner said than 
 done. In came a man 
 with a writing-pad, and 
 while we drank our cof- 
 fee this message sped 
 under the great stormy 
 sea to the far-away 
 country where the day 
 was shading into even- 
 ing already though the 
 sun was scarce two hours 
 i, high in Washington: 
 
 '^ 
 
 
The White House, 
 
 Mrs. Rh's, Ribe, Den??iark: 
 
 Your son is breakfasting 
 with us. We send you our 
 love and sympathy. 
 
 Theodore and Edith Roosevelt 
 
 For, you see, the 
 house with the holly in 
 the hall \yas the White 
 House, and my host was 
 the President of the 
 United States. I have 
 to tell it to you, or you 
 might easily tail into the 
 same error I came near 
 falling into. I had to 
 pinch mysell to make 
 sure the President was 
 not Santa Claus himself. 
 
 
 
I felt that he had in that 
 moment given me the 
 very greatest Christmas 
 gift any man ever re- 
 ceived: my little moth- 
 er's life. For really what 
 ailed her was that she 
 was very old, and I know 
 that when she got the 
 President's dispatch she 
 must have become im- 
 mediately ten years 
 younger and got right 
 out of bed. Don't you 
 know mothers are that 
 way when any one 
 makes much of their 
 boys? I think Santa 
 Glaus must have 
 
 
brought them all in the 
 beginning — the moth- 
 ers, I mean. 
 
 I would just give any- 
 thing to see what hap- 
 pened in that old town 
 that is full of blessed 
 memories to me, when 
 the telegraph ticked off 
 that message. I will 
 warrant the town hur- 
 ried out, burgomaster, 
 bishop, beadle and all, 
 to do honor to my gen- 
 tle old mother. No 
 Santa Claus, eh? What 
 was that, then, that 
 spanned two oceans 
 with a breath of love 
 
 -^» '^ 
 
 ^s 
 
 '¥ 
 
 -^ 
 
 X:. 
 

 .i'^: 
 
 .-«- 
 ■^ 
 
 
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 and cheer, I should like 
 to know. Tell me that! 
 After the coffee we 
 sat together in the Pres- 
 ident's office for a little 
 while while he signed 
 commissions, each and 
 every one of which was 
 just Santa Claus's gift 
 to a grown-up boy who 
 had been good in the 
 year that was going; and 
 before we parted the 
 President had lifted with 
 so many strokes of his 
 pen clouds of sorrow 
 :and want that weighed 
 heavily on homes I knew 
 of to which Santa Claus 
 
 i6 
 
 
 
 h 
 
 oj 
 
 *c^ 
 
had had hard work find- 
 iRg his way that Christ- 
 mas. 
 
 It seemed to me as I 
 went out of the door, 
 where the big policeman 
 touched his hat and 
 wished me a Merry 
 Christmas, that the sun 
 never shone so brightly 
 in May as it did then. 
 I quite expected to see 
 the crocuses and the 
 jonquils, that make the 
 White House garden so 
 pretty, outin full bloom. 
 They were not, I sup- 
 pose, only because they 
 are official flowers and 
 
 
 
 ^-'■l>^^ 
 
 
 '^K-^ 
 
 ^- 
 
y^--. 
 
 .-->. 
 
 .->■..- 
 
 »" 
 
 
 have a proper respect for 
 the calendar that runs 
 Congress and the Exec- 
 utive Department, too. 
 I stopped on the way 
 down the avenue at Un- 
 cle Sam's paymaster's to 
 see what he thought of 
 it. And there he was, 
 busy as could be, mak- 
 ing ready for the coming 
 of Santa Glaus. No 
 need of my asking any 
 questions here. Men 
 stood in line with bank- 
 notes in their hands ask- 
 ing for gold, new gold- 
 pieces, they said, most 
 every one. The pay- 
 
master, who had a sprig 
 of Christmas green fixed 
 in his desk just like any 
 other man, laughed and 
 shook his head and said 
 '' Santa Claus? " and the 
 men in the line laughed 
 too and nodded and 
 went away with their 
 gold. 
 
 ONE man who went 
 out just ahead of 
 me I saw stoop over a 
 poor woman on the cor- 
 ner and thrust some- 
 thing into her hand, 
 then walk hastily away. 
 It was I who caught 
 
 -^ 
 
 J^- 
 
 
the light in the woman's 
 eye and the blessing 
 upon her poor wan lips, 
 and the grass seemed 
 greener in the Treasury 
 dooryard, and the sky 
 bluer than it had been 
 before, even on that 
 bright day. Perhaps — 
 well, never mind! if any 
 one says anything to 
 you about principles 
 and giving alms, you 
 tellhim that Santa Claus 
 takes care of the prin- 
 ciples at Christmas, and 
 not to be afraid. As 
 for him, if you want to 
 know, just ask the old 
 
woman on the Treas- 
 
 ury corner. 
 
 And so, walking 
 down that Avenue of 
 Good-will, I came to 
 my train again and went 
 home. And when I had 
 time to think it all over 
 I remembered the let- 
 ters in my pocket which 
 I had not opened. I 
 took them out and read 
 them, and among them 
 were two sent to me in 
 trust for Santa Glaus 
 himself which I had to 
 lay away with the edi- 
 tor's message until I got 
 the dew rubbed off my 
 

 spectacles. One was 
 from a great banker, and 
 it contained a check for 
 a thousand dollars to 
 help buy a home for 
 some poor children of 
 the East Side tenements 
 in New York, where the 
 chimneys are so small 
 and mean that scarce 
 even a letter will go up 
 through them, so that 
 ever so many little ones 
 over there never get on 
 Santa Claus's books at 
 all. 
 
 The other letter was 
 
 from a lonely old widow, 
 
 ^2^ almost as old as my dear 
 
mother in Denmark, 
 and it contained a two- 
 dollar bill. For years, 
 she wrote, she had saved 
 and saved, hoping some 
 time to have five dol- 
 lars, and then she would 
 go with me to the homes 
 of the very poor and be 
 Santa Claus herself. 
 ^^And wherever you de- 
 cided it was right to 
 leave a trifle, that should 
 be the place where it 
 would be left," read the 
 letter. But now she 
 was so old that she 
 could no longer think 
 of such a trip and so 
 
 
 
 
she sent the money she 
 had saved. And I 
 thought of a family in 
 one of those tenements 
 where father and mother 
 are both lying ill, with 
 a boy, who ought to be 
 in school, fighting all 
 alone to keep the wolf 
 from the door, and win- 
 ning the fight. I guess 
 he has been too busy to 
 send any message up the 
 chimney, if indeed there 
 is one in his house; but 
 you ask him, right now, 
 whether he thinks there 
 is a Santa Claus or 
 not. 
 
 wmxs 
 
 .^ 
 
 ■A 
 
 
 
No Santa Glaus? 
 Yes, my little 
 man, there is a Santa 
 Glaus, thank God! 
 Your father had just 
 forgotten. The world 
 would indeed be poor 
 without one. It is true 
 that he does not always 
 wear a white beard and 
 drive a reindeer team 
 — not always, you know 
 — but what does it 
 
 
 
 i%;^ 
 
 
 
 matter? He is Santa 
 Claus with the big, lov- 
 ing, Christmas heart, for 
 all that; Santa Claus with 
 the kind thoughts for -^^"^^1^^^^' 
 every one that make #M<f%;^\ 
 
 V, 
 
 
 
 M^ 
 

 children and grown-up 
 people beam with hap- 
 piness all daylong. And 
 shall I tell you a secret 
 which I did not learn 
 at the post-office^ but 
 it is true all the same 
 — of how you can al- 
 ways be sure your letters 
 go to him straight by 
 the chimney route? It 
 is this: send along with 
 them a friendly thought 
 for the boy you don't 
 like: for Jack who 
 punched you, or Jim 
 who was mean to you. 
 The meaner he was the 
 harder do you resolve 
 
 
 6^3 
 
to make it up: not to 
 bear him a grudge. That 
 is the stamp for the let- 
 ter to Santa. Nobody 
 can stop it, not even a 
 cross -draught in the 
 chimney, when it has 
 that on. 
 
 Because — don't you 
 know, Santa Claus is 
 the spirit of Christmas: 
 and ever and ever so 
 many years ago when 
 the dear little Baby was 
 born after whom we 
 call Christmas, and was 
 cradled in a manger out 
 in the stable because 
 there was not room 
 
 
 

 
 
 CR^ tm 
 
 in the inn, that Spirit 
 came into the world to 
 soften the hearts of men 
 and make them love 
 one another. There- 
 fore, that is the mark 
 of the Spirit to this day. 
 Don't let anybody or 
 anything rub it out. 
 Then the rest doesn't 
 matter. Let them tear 
 Santa's white beard off 
 at the Sunday-school 
 festival and growl in his 
 bearskin coat. These 
 are only his disguises. 
 The steps of the real 
 Santa Claus you can 
 trace all through the 
 
 28 
 
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 '&h&:m 
 
 ^^^m 
 
 Ju 
 
 
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world as you have done 
 here with me, and when 
 you stand in the last of 
 his tracks you will find 
 the Blessed Babe of 
 Bethlehem smiling a 
 welcome to you. For 
 then you will be home. 
 
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 (D3279sl0)4/6B 
 
 General Library . 
 University of California 
 Berkeley 
 
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