CENTER-SHOTS AT ROME
ROME'S BLOODY HANDS.
An address only an hour in length, on any phase of Roman Catholicism, is necessarily at a great disadvantage, being the time is too limited to do more than pull out the stopper and let the audience have a whiff of what is contained in the tremendous jug. [Laughter.] But even a whiff is like hartshorn in the nose. [Laughter.] It nearly blows the top of one's head off [laughter.], throws the brain into a whirl, and makes the heart sick.
In the love-letter* I read you last
*On the preceding Sunday evening Mr. Rutledge read a scathing letter he had received from Theo. Wolfram, a Catholic and well-known business man of Columbus. The letter contained such epithets as 'blatherskite" and "skunk," and such compliments as "when the venomous froth dripping from your mouth," "your horrible, putredinous breath," "you have no conscience," "you are a freak," "you have cultivated your mind at the expense of your heart," and "under an X-ray, it [your heart] will show that it is like a last year's potato." The reading of the letter was a cause of much merriment for the audience.
[pg. 118] Sunday night [laughter] the author accused me of poisoning the minds of the people. I agree with him that the exhibition of Roman Catholicism is not the best tonic in the world for public morals. [Applause.] But there are times when it is necessary to show the public even the worst side of life. [Applause.]
If I am poisoning the minds of the people when I simply remove the stopper for a short time, what are the Catholic seminaries doing to the priesthood when they pour the obscene contents of this jug all over the young theologues? [Laughter.] And what are the priests doing in the confessional-box when they begin with children at the early age of nine or ten years — first letting them smell, then compelling them to drink from this jug — and when they force this poison into the minds of girls and women by the hundred thousand every year? [Applause.]
Tom Watson published a little of this poison in his magazine, the cry went forth, "That's unprintable and therefore unlawful!" and he was hauled into court.
[pg. 119] An English publisher was imprisoned for printing the language priests are taught in the seminaries and compelled to employ in the confessional-box.
No priest would state under oath that the works of Dens, Kenrick, Debreyne, Buchard, Liguori, and Scavani could be given to the public in an English book or newspaper. For priests know these works could be produced in court, and they would stand convicted of perjury.
Roman Catholicism slays morals, blasts lives, and wrecks homes in every land. But we shall now say farewell to this nauseating side of the subject, and look, briefly as possible, on another side, which, on the surface, seems worse, but in reality is not as bad.
I would rather see my daughter burned alive or carved to pieces than have her pass through the experience which, according to Rome's own historians, living witnesses, and court records, has been the fate of untold thousands as a direct result of Catholic theology. [Applause.]
During the three preceding lectures,
[pg. 120] while I have held the stopper, you have looked at the jug and held your noses. [Laughter.] To-night you will have to hold your nerves. If you are inclined to faint at the sight of blood, I would advise you to either retire now or get your smelling-salts ready. [Laughter.] And if you are in the habit of pulling off long fainting spells, perhaps you had better make your will. [Laughter.]
Whether or not my next text comprehends more than I shall emphasize in this discourse, I'm not prepared to say. But I will say that it applies to Romanism more than to anything else with which the Christian religion has been connected, and that it convicts the Catholic Church before the tribunal of human intelligence.
For if the Roman Catholic Church has not been "drunken with the blood of the saints," history is a lie and it's folly to believe anything we read concerning the past. [Applause.]
The subject on which I'm to speak, this evening, is not like the proverbial needle in the haystack. It is like the
[pg. 121] straws that compose the stack, so multiplied are the atrocities it presents. The difficulty, therefore, is not the task of finding something to say, but that of deciding just where to reach in and pull out a bunch of hair-raising facts.
I could tell you about the murders connected with the Vatican, as a result of jealousy, ambition, and especially the atmosphere of suspicion that has always been and is still breathed by the popes, cardinals, guards, domestics, and all who have been and are associated with that citadel of iniquity. [Applause.] And I could punctuate the discourse with a reference to the mysterious death of Cardinal Rampolla, which occurred only a few weeks ago. Rampolla had Papal ambitions, and, like others around whose head the infallible bee has buzzed, he, abruptly and under circumstances that were questionable, boarded the limited express for purgatory. [Laughter.] That is not a sacrilegious statement. The Catholic Church teaches that the best of her members go to purgatory. Rampolla's will, dated April 13, 1889,
[pg. 122] which has come to light, was published in last week's issue of the Western Watchman. And in that will he made a large bequest to his own soul, specifying that immediately after his death two hundred masses should begin, at five francs a mass, to get him out of purgatory. Nor is my reference to his recent decease rash. The Associated Press, which as I shall prove next Sunday night, is controlled by the conservative regarding all Romish news, recently acquainted the public with the fact that Rampolla's powerful friends had threatened to have his body exhumed and his stomach searched for poison. This will afford you an idea of the confidence the holy men in and about the Vatican repose in one another in the good year 1914. [Applause.]
I could devote the time to a discussion of wholesale infanticide, submitting evidence in support of the charge that thousands of children have been born and buried behind stone walls.
Or I could talk for hours upon con-
[pg. 123] vent horrors. I could specify cases like that of Barbara Ubryk, who, as court records show in England are reported to show, was confined in a living tomb — eight feet long and six feet wide — for twenty-one years. According to the published story in booklet form by L. J. King, she was never given water with which to bathe. She was kept half starved, and periodically she was beaten. Her garments rotted away, and during the majority of those years she had only nature's raiment in the heat of summer and the cold of winter. The hair fell from her head, her nails became as bird's claws, vermin ate her body, which was reduced to a skeleton, and she nearly lost her reason. And she was thus punished by the Mother Superior because, as a beautiful girl, she is alleged to have stubbornly withstood the infamous advances of her father confessor. The indignant Catholics, themselves, it is asserted, tried to demolish the convent. And the sleek, well-groomed priest, who during all these twenty-one years enjoyed the confidence of his bishop and the best Catholic people,
[pg. 124] is said to have committed suicide to escape the verdict of the court.
And I could dwell upon the numerous other outrages, some of which have touched the life of our own country in our own day.
But I shall pass these by and give the subject a more general survey.
From the viewpoint of Romanism, there is only one sin too black to be forgiven — the sin of heresy.
Priests may drink until they are drunk — and I've seen them do it. They may steal — and Crowley affirms that they do. They may ruin women and children by the thousand — and scores of living men and women prefer these charges and claim they have the evidence, which is never called for. And the only punishment inflicted upon them is a transfer to another parish. But let the priest or layman renounce the doctrines and traditions of the Catholic Church, and he at once becomes such a fiend in human form that his family and friends pronounce him dead, the saints are called upon to curse him, and he is branded
[pg. 125] the vilest sinner on earth and the arch-enemy of Heaven.
For the sin of heresy, in past centuries, people were put to death by every cruel method the devil could invent, and at the instigation of "infallible" popes and "holy" bishops and cardinals whose lives, according to Catholic historians, were lurid with the most horrible licentiousness the world has ever known.
Time will not permit me to begin at its source and follow this river of blood as it flows and widens. Hence, I can only dip into it here and there, and call your attention to its width, depth, and turbulent current.
Admiral Coligny was cruelly murdered in 1572. His head was cut off, embalmed, and given to Catherine de Medici, who sent it as a welcome present to the pope.
Thomas Cranmer was burned at the stake in 1556.
Ridley and Latimer were roasted alive, Oct. 16, 1555.
In 1417, John Oldcastle was tied on a cart and paraded through the city to the
[pg. 126] place of execution. He was then suspended with chains and tortured to death by a slow fire.
John Huss was fed to the flames in 1414.
And I could continue, indefinitely, naming great, scholarly, godly men who have suffered death, in the most excruciating forms, because they declined to acknowledge the supremacy of the pope.
Thus far, I have had you simply glance at the retail end of heresy — extermination. I shall now call your attention to the wholesale part of the wicked business.
But before doing so, I wish to pick up and tie a loose thread that is hanging by one end.
Now and then a silly priest, who hasn't the power of analysis required of a dog-catcher [laughter], offers the apology that the church is not guilty of the crimes history records, and insists that they were committed by the governments.
I believe in fair play. Therefore, I'm willing to investigate this apology. And
[pg. 127] if the Catholic Church is innocent of the crimes she is alleged to have committed, I, for one, stand ready to break my gun, put on a scapular, and go to confession [laughter]; though I fear the penance I would have to do for delivering these lectures would keep me busy for a least a day or so. [Laughter.]
Let us suppose that I have a magistrate under my absolute control, and that I have hitherto had a law enacted which declares that all people must believe as I do — under penalty of death. I single out a man, prefer and sustain the charge that he doesn't believe as I do, and he is executed. And when you reprimand me for having done such a horrible thing, I roll my eyes to heaven, look holy, and say: "Run along. I didn't do it. The magistrate is the bad man." [Applause.]
If there is a man here to-night so limited in gray matter that he cannot see the point, and he'll permit the favor, I'll go to the butcher's to-morrow, buy some calf brains, and shovel them into his head with a spoon. [Laughter.]
However, to illustrate the point so the
[pg. 128] children present may grasp it, I'll refer to a couple of historic examples.
Once upon a time there was a man by the name of Henry IV. History says he was Emperor of Germany, and one day he made the mistake of actually thinking he was the emperor. He decided that Pope Gregory VII. should attend to his own affairs and let the business of the German Government alone. But, unfortunately for him, the Pope decided otherwise. The result was that the emperor made a pilgrimage to the Pope's house in midwinter, 1077. He knocked. But the pope looked through the window, saw who was there, and said: "I'm busy just now. Take off your shirt, and stand outside till I call you." The emperor removed his clothing and stood at the door three long days. And when he was nearly starved and frozen, he was invited in to "eat a bite", get warm, and talk things over. The conversation that day, somewhat one-sided, was about as follows: "Now, Henry, if you'll kiss my toe [laughter], and promise to be good, you
[pg. 129] may run along back home and play that you are emperor. But don't ever make the mistake again of forgetting that I'm the boss." [Laughter.]
And once upon another time there was a man at Toulouse, France, whose name was Count Raimond (VI.). He was the chief magistrate of a province wherein there was a number of heretics, and the decree had been issued that his heretics should pay the penalty of their folly. This man also felt well enough one morning to eat a good breakfast, after which he placed his thumbs in his vest-bands, made a turn or two, drew a deep breath, and concluded that he was somebody. He thought of the fatal decree, and, throwing back his shoulders, said out loud: "I don't believe in killing heretics, and I think I'll let mine live."
Pope Innocent III, overheard this insolent soliloquy. Whereupon he wrote a letter to Phillip Augustus, the king. And, to make a long story short, on the 18th of June, 1209, the magistrate concluded that he would take a day off and have a little fun. He (voluntarily, of
[pg. 130] course!) laid his hand on the "consecrated host" and "relics of the saints," and took a solemn oath that he would obey the pope during the remainder of his life [laughter], and that he would pursue heretics with sword and fire until they were totally exterminated. This oath must have been delightful!
Then some of the church officials told him it would be in keeping with the pleasant occasion of his visit in their midst for him to ride a goat — just to help him remember his oath. [Laughter.] You men have ridden goats in your lodges. [Laughter.] But you never rode one like that Catholic goat the French magistrate rode. [Laughter.] They told him to remove all his garments to keep them from being torn when the goat kicked up. [Laughter.] A halter was thrown about this neck, he was led seven times around a grave in the holy church edifice, then, before the altar, his back was beaten with a bundle of rods until it looked like a beefsteak cut with a saw. [Laughter.] Then they went home to supper, light-hearted, and singing:
[pg. 131] "'Tis religion that can give
Sweetest pleasures while we live." [Laughter.]
All except the magistrate. He sang:
"Amazing Rome! Dismiss the sound!
That thrashed a count like me!
I once was free, but now am bound;
Was blind, but now I see!" [Laughter.]
The Pope had a never-failing method of opening the eyes of every king, emperor, and subordinate official who presumed to withstand the decrees of the church or to say his soul was his own. [Applause.]
When a priest in yonder cathedral absolves a penitent, Romanism teaches that the church does it. And just as the Roman Church to-day operates her spiritual affairs through the priests she dominates, the church of the world's midnight operated her persecutions through the government officials she controlled.
Madam Rome, your apology has been heard; but, after due consideration we have decided not to accept it. [Applause.]
[pg. 132] I shall cut out the Crusades, whose object was the conquest of the Holy Land, and admit Rome's argument that they were justifiable; though it's difficult to square the tactics of that conflict with the standards of war that were observed even centuries prior to the time of Peter the Hermit.
Back as far as the twelfth century, there was a class of people known as Cathari, or Puritans. Their only sin was that of recognizing Christ, instead of the pope, as Head of the church. Yet they were universally persecuted.
In 1159 a company of these plain, God-fearing folk — thirty in number — appeared in England. They banded themselves together in the capacity of a congregation, and sought only the liberty of conscience. But this liberty was denied them, and likewise was their right to live. They were each branded on the forehead with a red-hot iron, deprived of their raiment, whipped through the streets of Oxford, and turned loose in the open fields, where, in the depth of winter, they were compelled to remain until they all
[pg. 133] perished. This is only an example of the punishment inflicted upon these good people wherever they were found.
The Albigenses, a people who declined to acknowledge the pope as Christ's vicar on earth, were special objects of Papal enmity.
Pope Innocent III., who hated these people with all the venom of his depraved soul, decided to rid the earth of their presence, and put his decision into immediately bloody action.
The city of Beziers, in France, was besieged in 1209. The Knights asked the pope's legate how to distinguish the Catholics from the heretics. The legate replied: "Kill them all; the Lord will know those that are his." When the gates were entered, women and children fled to the churches, thinking that within the sacred walls mercy might be shown them. But Romanism has never learned the meaning of "mercy." The victims were carved to pieces, and their blood drenched the altars and flowing out into the streets. Then the dripping blade of carnage was thrust through every remain-
[pg. 134] ing man, woman and child in the city.
In 1210 men and women, numbering 140, were roasted alive on the great pile of lumber in the castle of Menerbe.
In 1211 Lavaur was besieged. The refugees were cut to pieces and burned, and the lady of the castle was buried alive. And during this fiendish performance, the bishop, the abbot of Cordieu, and all the priest clothed in pontifical habits, rolled their hypocritical eyes heavenward and sang, "Veni, Creator." Then, proceeding to the castle of Cassoro, the fiends seized and tortured about sixty other victims to death.
But time will not permit a lengthy, detailed account of these wholesale murders. As we pursue history, we find the Roman Church, even in this early period, continuously slaking her thirst with the blood of saints. Petrus Vallensis, the monkish historian, who was present on various of these hell-born and devil-led occasions, testifies that the pilgrims seized the heretics and tortured them with infinite joy.
Finally, in 1215, Pope Innocent III.
[pg. 135] had his infamous council issue a sweeping decree against heretics, and the grim reaper went marching on, red-handed and remorselessly, across the countries and down through the centuries.
I haven't the time to portray the wicked Innocents and Gregories, Pope Julius — the "man of blood" — and numerous other fiends incarnate, whose hypocritical, scarlet lives are recorded in general history, and whose name are to-day "sainted" by the Catholic Church and recognized as open gates of pearl through which supplications may be addressed to the Eternal Throne.
Time will not permit an extended perusal of Bloody Mary's five-year reign of terror, during which the pope wielded the scepter and 282 persons were put to death.
Nor can I dwell upon the continued slaughter of the Albigenses and Waldenses, the Inquisition in Spain and France, and the bloody application of the Lateran decree in every land wherein circumstances placed heretics at the mercy of Catholics.
[pg. 136] But for a few moments we will look at Paris on the night of Aug. 24, 1572.
Beginning with the murder of Coligny, the slaughter raged until more than five thousand people lay mangled and dead, and the streets were like scarlet rivers. The massacre extended to Meaux, Troyes, Orleans, Nevers, Lyons, Toulouse, Bordeaux, Rouen, and other localities, and fully twenty-five thousand were added to the list of carnage. And this bloody badge swings from the lapel of St. Bartholomew's day!
Was the church particeps criminus? Let history answer. After having gone to mass and thanking God for the victory, the king sent a messenger to the pope with the joyful news. Did the pope rend his garments, put on sackcloth, cover his head with ashes, and decree that the wicked king should be drawn and quartered? Not much! The pope and cardinals repaired to the Church of St. Louis, where they returned thanks to God for this wholesale slaughter of heretics. Te Deum was sung, and cannon fired the glad announcement to the neighborhoods
[pg. 137] around. But this was not enough to satisfy the hilarious pope. He had a medal struck, on one side of which was inscribed "Hugonotorum Strages [slaughter of the Huguenots] 1572," and on the other side, his own name and title.
GREGORIUS XIII - PONT. MAX. AN. I
UGONOTTORUM STRAGES (HUGUENOTS SLAUGHTERED) - 1572
O thou Gregory XIII.! Thou didst wear the artificial robes of righteousness and proclaim thyself the incarnate Christ! And thou art yet called "saint" by the millions who acknowledge thee as having been an embodiment of holiness and infallibility! But thy heart was filled with wriggling, striking, poisonous vipers, thy tongue was tipped with blasphemy, and thy hands were gleefully plunged into a warm, quivering lake of innocent blood! [Applause.]
Had the Roman church put her victims to death decently, and with as little pain as possible, she would have stood out in bold relief, down to the end of time, as a monster whose iniquities could not have been described.
But, not content with what the phrase "extermination by death" implies, she has not only thirsted for human blood,
[pg. 138] but her ears have itched to hear the groans of pain and her eyes have tingled to feast themselves upon the shrinking flesh and writhing forms of men, women, and children in extreme torture. The man-eating tiger thirsts for blood. But no one has ever accused that animal of prolonging a victim's life just to glory in his misery. This tiger, as an illustration of Roman Catholicism, is therefore too mild. And I, hereby, dismiss him, with an apology for having associated his name with that of a system of murder whose cruelty could not be improved upon in hell. [Applause.]
Look upon the dungeons in which heretics were starved, and eaten by vermin; look upon the graves in which they were buried alive; look upon the spiked iron virgin, in which they were squeezed and their bodies pierced; look upon the stake and the slow fire, which roasted them alive; look upon the Inquisition chambers, in which they were tortured with racks and pulleys and needles and knives and fire! People were hurled from precipices, dropped into wells, hung
[pg. 139] on hooks and put to death by every other cruel method depraved ingenuity could devise.
But even blood and physical pain did not satisfy Rome's desire for fiendish pleasure. Hence the infliction of mental torture by methods the public mention of a majority of which is prohibited by the rules of propriety. I shall, therefore, refer you to only one case — described by Dowling.
Nothing is so tender and heavenly as a mother's love for the babe at her breast. The Roman Church discovered the depth and sensitiveness of this holy affection, and even subjected it to torture — the instances in which babes have been snatched from their mother's arms and cruelly put to death being legion.
The historian takes us back to Jan. 23, 1685, and points out a case of persecution, the infamy of which surpasses the most blood-curdling accounts of the Inquisition chambers. A mother is chained in such a position that she can not help looking through a partition into an adjoining room, wherein her little babe
[pg. 140] has been mercilessly flung upon the floor. The persecutors withdraw and let time perform its ghastly task. The sun goes down, but a candle burns that the veil of darkness may not shield the maternal eyes from the heart-breaking spectacle. The long night passes and another day dawns and drag and wane. The babe hungers and suffers and cries. Its moans finally cease, but it continues to gasp and its flesh quivers until the weeping angel reaches down and receives the little spirit. And the mother has been so near — yet so far; her heart has broken a thousand times; the tears have trickled over her burning cheeks until the tear-glands have become inactive and her eyes are dry and glassy; she has been compelled to hear and witness it all. [Audience wept.]
Don't tell me God is in a system in which there is no humanity! If I had to believe Roman Catholicism was ordained of God, or that he is, in anywise, connected with it, I'd turn atheist, I would throw away my Bible [drops Bible to the floor] and say to the Psalm-
[pg. 141] ist "you may call me a fool, if you wish. But I do not believe a word in that book!" [Applause.]
"But when the world's midnight passed, the persecuting spirit of Romanism passed with it," we are sometimes assured. Let's examine this proposition.
Modern Roman Catholicism, instead of anathematizing the human fiends of ancient Rome Catholicism, canonizes these monsters and thereby indorses their black lives and hellish deeds.
Civilization has advanced until Romanism no longer has the sword and torture-rack in her hands. But Romanism has not advanced. As a system it is still roaming the wilds of medieval centuries. [Applause.] It is behind the times scientifically and religiously; and while it is up to date and a little beyond in political wire-pulling, it is four centuries out of date in its political ideals. [Applause.]
The system is behind its people in many respects, and this is a hopeful sign. By persuasion, threats, and penance, Rome tries to compel her people to pat-
[pg. 142] ronize her own schools. But, in practically every community, many Catholics send their children to the public schools for no other reason than that Rome's own schools are out of date. This reason has been repeatedly assigned by Catholics themselves. It hasn't been a week since a Catholic told an officer of this church that he quit sending his children to the parochial school because he had discovered that they were learning nothing that would be of service in adult life. [Applause.]
Rome's decrees that heretics must be exterminated have never been rescinded.
I'm informed that in text-books, still taught in Catholic seminaries, it is positively stated that "obstinate heretics should be exterminated," and that "if by declaring our religion we cause some disturbance and deaths, it is to the glory of God."
And added to all this, the encyclical of all the popes emphasize the infallibility of the church.
Can infallibility make mistakes, discover them, repent, and change? Roman-
[pg. 143] ism teaches that it does not and can not. Is logic logic? Or is it only moonshine? [Applause.]
Here and there, in countries dominated by Romanism, cases of persecution came to light in the nineteenth century.
I refer you to one of comparatively recent date. Hardesty, in "Why are We Protestants?" states that in 1892 — and I fancy a few of you were living then [laughter] — Felix Martinez was put to death in San Lorenzo because the Jesuits discovered that he was doing the church in that locality an injury by inducing his friends to read the Bible.
And it is further asserted in this book that, about that time, a Catholic paper in New York edified the morals of its readers with the following "up-to-date" editorial: "Lynch law is a barbarous remedy. But lynch law is not confined to Mexico. And if it ever could be justifiable, it is when, in a country devoted to the Catholic faith, a blaspheming infidel, having become interested in the Bible, proceeds to interest his neighbors."
[pg. 144] I'm a Southern man. And, like all other Southern men at the present time, I would die for the "Stars and Stripes." [Applause.] But had I discovered America about twenty years before the Civil War, I think I should have been in that rumpus. [Laughter.] And, in Mark Twain's language, "there would probably have been trouble." [Laughter.]
Now let me refresh your memory a little regarding American history. Jefferson Davis' sister was the superioress of a convent in Bardstown, Ky.
The first gun at Fort Sumpter was fired by a Roman Catholic.
And Pope Pius IX. wrote President Davis a letter containing consolation and courage. He was the only European potentate who recognized the Confederacy. Was it because he loved Davis and the Southern people? Nonsense. So far as Davis and the Southern people were concerned, they were no more to him than was African slavery, which was "the goat" of that terrible war. I say "the goat" because had the situation not
[pg. 145] been manipulated by schemers — both North and South and abroad — the slavery question would have settled itself. [Applause.] The men who got up the war never smelt smoke — except the smoke of their cigars. [Laughter.]
The fact that the pope blessed the Confederacy instead of the Union proves that he believed and hoped that the South would be victorious. And it is quite evident, to my mind, that he was planning a long scheme — that getting the Papal hooks in at the very beginning of the new government, filling the South with his emissaries, and making the Confederate States of America a Catholic nation. Had this been the result, with the aid of Mexico and the Catholic constituency of Canada, together with Catholic prestige in the United States, the project of making all America Catholic would have looked sanguine. The fact that Catholics fought on both sides does not pierce my argument. For we have already seen, in the destruction of Beziers, that Romanism does not hesitate to sacrifice its own blood when the
[pg. 146] interests of the church are at stake. [Applause.] Perhaps some of you think I've drawn on extreme fancy. I'll prove that my argument is not so far removed, as you might think, from that of a man whose conclusions upon subjects pertaining to the Civil War are highly respected in this country. Abraham Lincoln said: "This war would never have been possible without the sinister influence of the Jesuits. We owe it to popery that we now see our land reddened with the blood of her noblest sons. If the people knew the whole truth, this war would turn into a religious war. New projects of assassination are detected almost every day. The New York riots were evidently a Romish plot. We have proof in our hands that they were the work of Bishop Hughes." [Applause.]
And there's a sequel to this line of argument. So hostile was Lincoln toward the Catholic Church that many papers said he was an ex-Catholic. Father Chiniquy, a close personal friend of the President, said to him, "That
[pg. 147] report is your sentence of death." Lincoln himself prophesied that he would die at the hands of an assassin and that his death would be inspired by Jesuits.
Now, I wish you to look at a chain I shall jingle before your eyes.
John Wilkes Booth was a Catholic.
Mrs. Surratt, in whose house the murder was planned, was a Catholic.
Dr. Mudd, who set Booth's leg, was a Catholic.
Garret, in whose barn Booth took refuge, was a Catholic.
Lloyd, who kept the carbine Booth wanted for protection, was a Catholic.
General Baker, the detective, said, "All the conspirators were Roman Catholics."
The death of Lincoln was announced by Catholics at St. Joseph, Minn., forty miles from the nearest railroad station, several hours before it occurred.
Father Chiniquy, Col. Edwin A. Sherman, and General Harris, after investigating the murder, affirmed that Rome was the instigator of Lincoln's assassination.
[pg.148] For a verification of this astounding evidence, I refer you to Brandt's "America or Rome," Chiniquy's works, and other books that enjoy an extensive circulation, not one of which Rome dares assail historically.
Is the old-time spirit of Romanism dead or asleep? Or is it still alive and awake, but held in subjection by governments and the humane spirit of our age?
On page 169 of "Romanism a Menace to the Nation," the Western Watchman, of St. Louis, edited by D.S. Phelan, is quoted as follows from the issue of Dec. 24, 1908: "Protestants were persecuted in France and Spain with the full approval of the church authorities. The church has persecuted. Only a tyro in church history will deny that. We have always defended the persecution of the Huguenots and the Spanish Inquisition. When she thinks it good to use physical force, she will use it. But will the Catholic Church give bond that she will not persecute at all? Will she guarantee absolute freedom and equality of
[pg. 149] all churches and faiths? The Catholic Church gives no bonds for her good behavior."
Inasmuch as the editor of one of your greatest papers declares that the Catholic Church stands ready to persecute Protestants to-day, as she did in centuries gone by, you Catholics should not feel bitter toward me for suggesting that your system of religion — if it may be termed a religious system — has not changed, but is simply held in check by the forces of our advanced age. [Applause.]
After the meeting last Sunday night, a Roman Catholic stood in front of this pulpit, and, after referring to an experience of thirty years in the holy confessional-box, expressed a very ardent desire to tear all the flesh from my bones. [Laughter.] About a dozen of you people had come forward and were eye-witnesses of the circus. [Laughter.] Fortunately, there was no china broken. [Laughter.]
I close by asking whence this murderous desire in our own land, expressed in
[pg. 150] the presence of witnesses right here in this building, and sanctioned by a leading Catholic editor, if it not be generated by the present-day teaching of the system, whose hands are red with the blood of more than fifty million saints, and which, according to its own proud boast, is infallible and unchangeable? [Applause.]
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Continue on to 6. Romanism and American Institutions.