4.

Since Spiritism makes men better, leading the unbelieving to belief in God, in the soul, and in the future life, it can only do good. Why, then, does it have enemies, and why do those who do not believe in it not leave the believers in peace?

Spiritism has enemies, like every new idea. An idea that became established without opposition would be a miraculous fact. Still more: the more false and absurd it is, the fewer adversaries it will find, whereas it will have them in all the greater number the more it is true, just, and useful. This is a natural consequence of the present state of Humanity. Every new idea necessarily comes to supplant an old idea. If it is false, ridiculous, or impracticable, no one will be troubled by it, because, instinctively, they understand that it has no vitality and they let it die naturally; but if it is just and fruitful, it will alarm those who, out of pride or material interest, have an interest in maintaining the old idea, and they will combat it all the more ardently the more formidable it appears to them. Look at History, at industry, at the sciences, at the religions: everywhere you will find the application of this principle. But History will also tell you that against absolute truth nothing can prevail; it establishes itself, whether they wish it or not, when men are ripe to accept it. It is then necessary that its adversaries resign themselves to it, for they cannot act otherwise; and, a bizarre thing, they often boast of having been the first to have had that idea. One can generally judge the importance of an idea by the opposition it arouses. Suppose that, on arriving in an unknown country, you learn that the people there are preparing to repel the enemy who wishes to invade them. Now, if they send only four men and a corporal to the frontier, you will judge that the enemy is not so very formidable. Your reasoning will be otherwise if they send numerous battalions with all their apparatus of war. The same occurs with new ideas. Announce a frankly ridiculous and impossible system, involving the greatest interests of society, and no one will think of combating it. If, however, that system is founded on logic and good sense, if it recruits adherents, intelligent people will soon become uneasy, and all those who live under the old prevailing order will train against it their most powerful batteries. Such is the history of Spiritism. Those who combat it with the most obstinacy do not do so as though they were fighting against a false idea; if that were so, why would they keep silent before so many others? They combat it because Spiritism alarms them. Now, one does not fear a mosquito, although, sometimes, a mosquito has been seen to bring down a lion. Note the providential wisdom in all things: never does a new idea of a certain importance burst forth suddenly in all its force; it grows and, little by little, infiltrates itself into habits. The same occurs with Spiritism, which we may call, without presumption, the capital idea of the nineteenth century; later they will see whether we are mistaken, beginning with the innocent phenomenon of turning tables, like a child, with which its rudest adversaries played; and from playing with it so much, it penetrated everywhere. But the child soon grew, today it is an adult and has taken its place in the philosophical world. They no longer play with it; they discuss it and combat it. If it were a lie, a utopia, it would not have come out of its swaddling clothes.