As nice as it would be to write about my pleasures, this is a history of my misfortunes, the tragic path that leads to my higher goal. I have little to be jealous of, and only seek sympathy, but I have everything to fear from my persecutors, who have never ceased tormenting me while I attacked them silently. What would they not do to me the moment I make my efforts, perhaps even my successes, public, and bring the people together in my cause by showing them our common enemies!
But what am I saying? My greater fear is your incredulity. There is no more terrible pain for the unfortunate soul than to think no-one believes their suffering.
Oh mortals, my brothers, do not judge me quickly. Put away the cynicism with which you regard everything outside your circle of knowledge, anything that carries some trace of the extraordinary and supernatural, and do not dismiss me at first glance, thinking that I am more worthy of your pity than your compassion.
I have often challenged you and argued with you, and found myself in contact with the wicked man and the honest one, and have always found myself as clear-headed as the honest man, and wise to the false logic of the wicked. I have had financial interests to defend, lawsuits to pursue, businesses to tend, enemies to watch. No one has found me wanting in intellect, and my conduct has always been praiseworthy.
So, to you that read me, do not say that I’m mad. Listen to me, follow my logic and the thread of my story, and then…try to contradict me!
Before I begin, may I be permitted to make a statement of my faith that is common to me and to those whose sympathy I hope to win.
God is generous, and that generosity is inexhaustible, the source of all good that we will experience. Frankly, anyone who turns away from that is basically doomed to a sad, empty life devoid of any sort of happiness or peace, no matter what you’ve heard. Happiness is completely out of our hands. It’s really pretty obvious when you think about it. But equally obvious, there’s a dark power that poisons our lives, turning our hearts away from that divine happiness, that endless bounty, leading us to wallow in our own emptiness.
Imagine a beautiful land in the peak of spring. Rich fields, beautiful trees crowned with flowers, rivers shining in the valley, flowing in the spring, carrying with them abundance and freshness, the kind of perfect, lush scene that would force you to cry out, “My god! I see you in these features! This is my proof of you!”
So…keep imagining. Now imagine the forest at night, the winter wind howling through the trees, you’re alone in an endless dark pine forest,trees crowned with snow, the wind whistles around you through the dark vaults of the woods, the world around you as desolate as the emptiness within you, and you cannot go on. You shiver from the cold, you shiver from fear. If you haven’t experienced it, you can imagine it. But…but but but…who taught you to shiver? Not your education, not your prior experience, unless every one of us had that same shared experience. No one’s master taught them to fear. What academy have so many gone to, that teaches them this terror, this chimerical fear? Who taught us to fear? How do the Samoiedes, the Lapplander in his frozen world, share this terror in common with the savage in the desert wasteland? Why do the Scandinavian with all his bloodthirsty gods, and his enemy, the Roman in his civilized world, both enemies, both tremble at the sound of a broken twig or a fallen leaf? What kind of missionary of fear could reach the Jew and Christian, Muslim and Pagan, Dervish andMonk, Priest and Lama, and bring them together in agreement on this common point? [1]
No, this is the voice of nature within us, and nature does not lie, and does not have time for frivolities or making something without a purpose. We wouldn’t fear the wolf or tiger if they were more like the gentle lamb. And when my heart beats fast, but I can’t see the cause, when my icy senses shiver on the edge of a roaring torrent, when the shadows grow dark and long, when I toss and turn at night and tear at my sheets, I know that nature is warning me, instinct tells me of what is yet to come, I shiver because of an enemy that is so much more dangerous because it is beyond my perception. He prowls, his eyes burn with cruelty…but let him prowl. My own weapons…my pure soul, wrapped in the benevolent wings of a higher power, may also be invisible, but are just as great.
Look to the past, to the stories of our ancestors, to the ancients across the world, the writings and beliefs of peoples ancient and modern, even if four thousand years separates them. Entire nations will profess this phenomenon, and help expand my explanation.The subtle Greeks, Mexicans, Iroquis, Topinamboux[2], the ancient writings of Zoroaster, Confucius, Plato, Christian and Hebrew texts, the writings of the world are together in perfect agreement: we cannot understand this world without admitting that good and evil both have their great and terrible spirits. Though they may talk about them indirectly or jump through logical hoops, no one wants to suggest that the divine good could be a cause of evil. The people of Senegal, Niger, and Guinea offer sacrifices to this spirit of evil, warding off its blows, and hope somehow that the spirits of good and evil could be somehow reconciled. Or some other sect will go so far as to say that there are two worlds with two creators, side by side. Obviously, they’re wrong, but still admit to this irrefutable principle.
Time and again, the religions and peoples of the world agree. My argument cannot be denied. Do you think you and your brothers have been slandered, that you dare not speak your belief, as if it was a weakness? No, your fears are well-founded. There are enemies that spy on you, and creatures terrible and invisible can rise up from the depths of the ocean or the bowels of the earth at any moment. Look to the horizon, see the black cloud growing, darkening the entire sky. Their storms can wipe out a year’s hard labor in the blink of an eye, disaster sweeping his work away in an instant. Oh ploughman, whose simplicity is more certain than the calculations of science, and no, I will not smile in pity when your trembling hand shakes a magic bell into the air, hoping that its blessed chime will halt the oncoming storm. No, I applaud you, and I take your hand.[3]
The city-dweller, always distracted, always abstracted, deflecting fact with parody and wit, will no doubt laugh at the noise, not seeing that between the storm and myself there are other powers at work. Let’s leave him alone there on that vast plain, crouching behind a rock or under a tree blackened by time. Somehow let us remove the fear of his fellow men from his mind, and take him to this steep, inaccessible rock, and let the sky darken, blanketing him in a silence beyond his reason. . Once you were sparkling and witty, now you shudder, you tremble, and you do not even dare to sigh. Your pale skin shakes your argument.
“Yes, I’m shaking, but let’s talk through this,” he’ll say. “Sure,” I’ll say. “How can a good and loving god allow us to be tormented by a damned spirit?” To this, my answer: “Have you never experienced pain and misfortune? Have all your investments turned into gold? Do your children treat you with the respect you deserve? Have you never gone hungry? None of these are the doings of a benevolent deity. So what is the source of all this evil? Nature? No, nature has no will. You wouldn’t be doing all that, you’re a good person, right? Look: You know that evil exists. You do bad things. Bad things are done to you. We can’t truly understand God’s will in this, but let me attempt to explain it to you.
We can agree that God is benevolent, but also just. So, what does Justice mean? We can’t expect God to look away from evil without punishing it, that would make him seem powerless. His hands stay clean, his hands are both justice and mercy but he may put some slack in the leash of that spirit of evil, and then the winds rage and the lightning cracks. Is this the greater or lesser evil? We are punished for our crime, but this can leave us open to the temptations of an evil spirit, and a fault becomes a crime, and a crime again becomes a punishment. If this makes sense, just nod. If you can’t feel this in your heart, I may never be able to reach you.
All around us there are secret, invisible enemies, spirits whose only goal is to harm creatures of that spirit of goodness. Some people might argue with me but every culture of the world would take my side here. These spirits can find, among the people of the world, those who have slowly grown in corruption to the point where their own perversity matches those of the spirits, and they become their servants and henchmen, bound by pacts and promises, to their new masters, increasing in power and wickedness. They can read hearts, call up storms, heal or hurt, bless or curse, and would give life and death, if that was within their power.
Every culture can agree on the principle that our understanding of the present is based on our understanding of the past. This is “common consent,” an argument I use every day, all of us do, it’s built into the course of our daily lives. We know that Caesar and Cicero existed not because we saw them, but by the common agreement of all Europe, and the great works they left behind. A novice sailor can navigate from Spain to Newfoundland because of that same shared understanding. People seek their fortune in Martinique, Guadalupe, and so forth. It is possible that nations separated by language, prejudices, and cultures could unite to mislead us, but wherever I look, I see agreement in this fundamental truth. And in this, who could not also see the hand of our Creator, whose truths transcend time and custom?
[Note: the next portion of Berbiguier’s preamble is a lengthy series of quotes, anecdotes, and literary/historical references. I’m breaking it here for readability in this blog format. Page xxx, preamble, volume 1.]
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