Many years ago a little girl was wondering about the
existence of Santa Claus. She wrote the following letter to the editor, Charles
Dana, of the
"New York Sun" in 1897.
This is what Mr. Dana wrote back to Virginia:
Dear Virginia,
Your little friends are wrong.
They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical
age. They do not believe except what they see. They think that nothing can
be which is not comprehensible by their minds. All minds, Virginia,
whether they be men's or children's are little.
In the great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in
his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by
the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as
certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they
abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary
would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if
there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry,
no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment,
except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills
the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in
Fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in chimneys on Christmas
evening to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming
down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign
that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those
that neither children nor men can see.
Did you ever see Fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but
that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine
all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the
noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the
strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever
lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can
push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond.
Is it real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing
else so real and abiding.
No Santa Claus?
Thank God, he lives and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia,
nay ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the
heart of childhood.
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