“To-morrow at twelve o’clock I regain my freedom and the
right to associate with other men, but before I leave this room and see the
sunshine, I think it necessary to say a few words to you. With a clear
conscience I tell you, as before God, who beholds me, that I despise freedom
and life and health, and all that in your books is called the good things of
the world.
For fifteen years I have been intently studying earthly
life. It is true I have not seen the earth nor men, but in your books I have
drunk fragrant wine, I have sung songs, I have hunted stags and wild boars in
the forests, have loved women. . . . Beauties as ethereal as clouds, created by
the magic of your poets and geniuses, have visited me at night, and have
whispered in my ears wonderful tales that have set my brain in a whirl. In your
books I have climbed to the peaks of Elburz and Mont Blanc, and from there I
have seen the sun rise and have watched it at evening flood the sky, the ocean,
and the mountain-tops with gold and crimson. I have watched from there the
lightning flashing over my head and cleaving the storm-clouds. I have seen
green forests, fields, rivers, lakes, towns. I have heard the singing of the
sirens, and the strains of the shepherds’ pipes; I have touched the wings of comely
devils who flew down to converse with me of God. . . . In your books I have
flung myself into the bottomless pit, performed miracles, slain, burned towns,
preached new religions, conquered whole kingdoms. . . .
Your books have given me wisdom. All that the unresting
thought of man has created in the ages is compressed into a small compass in my
brain. I know that I am wiser than all of you.
And I despise your books, I despise wisdom and the blessings
of this world. It is all worthless, fleeting, illusory, and deceptive, like a
mirage. You may be proud, wise, and fine, but death will wipe you off the face
of the earth as though you were no more than mice burrowing under the floor,
and your posterity, your history, your immortal geniuses will burn or freeze
together with the earthly globe.
You have lost your reason and taken the wrong path. You have taken lies for truth, and hideousness for beauty. You would marvel if, owing to strange events of some sorts, frogs and lizards suddenly grew on apple and orange trees instead of fruit, or if roses began to smell like a sweating horse; so I marvel at you who exchange heaven for earth. I don’t want to understand you.”
(From “The Bet”)