There can be no doubt of his sincerity and no doubt of the fatal power he wielded and wields yet. For that strong, inexecrable hand holds empires in its grasp, blood drippin’ through the firm, cast-iron fingers. A well-meanin’ grasp in the first place, nobody doubts, and as time has passed, a-snatchin’ many savages from their barbarous lives and savage beliefs into better ways of livin’, and bringin’ ’em into the shelter of the Cross.
Good and evil, evil and good. Loyola is not the only Leader who has waded through seas of blood, and all to “The Greater Glory of God.” And what will be the end?
Onlimited power is a dangerous weepon to handle. Believin’ as he did firmly, onalterably, that his way wuz the only right way, he proceeded to make people walk in it. He went to work jest as the Puritans did when they hung witches and whipped Baptists. Only as his power reached by powerful organizations into all the countries of the earth, so the streams of bloodshed flowed down all the mountains of the earth, and reddened all the valleys.
And he, shet up to home a-fastin’ and a-prayin’ and a-seein’ visions of his Lord, and heads a-bein’ cut off and flames a-cracklin’ round the martyrs that he caused to be put to death in the name of his religion. And St. Francis Xavier, the best and sweetest soul that ever lived, he too become a general in this great army. By its swift, silent, mysterious power Kings wuz put to death, a Pope wuz poisoned, and some say that the Massacree of St. Bartholomew wuz caused by it. By its power Queen Isabella, the sweet, tender-hearted soul who sold her own earrin’s and things to help Columbus discover us—jest think of her, for what she wuz made to think wuz for “The Greater Glory of God,” she give her consent to have the dretful Inquisition established in Spain, causin’ half a million of Christians to be tortured and put to death.
Curous, hain’t it, what actin’ and behavin’ mortals will take on themselves to do in the name of Religion!
And she, so sweet, so peaceable, so holy—rejoicin’ not in Iniquity, but rejoicin’ in the Truth; forgivin’ her enemies, blessin’ ’em that persecute her, lovin’ all men and wimmen, blessin’ the world.
Queer, hain’t it!
Wall, from San Sebastian we went to Bruges and put up at a hotel built in honor of a Emperor. But I wuz dissapinted; a hotel in honor of a tramp ort to have more conveniences and smell sweeter. But I got a chance to set down and rest, anyway, which wuz indeed a panaky to my legs and to me.
I’d been quite rousted up about comin’ to Bruges, for here Cid wuz born, as I told Josiah.
“Syd who?” sez he.