r mazy dances, and at length the
earth had joy once more within its grasp. But, O calamity, unlucky
fate,--most tragic circumstance! A German monk, all swollen with beer
and theology, rose up against this renaissance of paganism, hurled
menaces against it, shattered it, and prevailed single handed against
the Princes of the Church. Inciting the nations, he called upon them to
undertake a reform which saved that which was about to be destroyed.
Vainly did the cleverest among us try to turn him from his work. A
subtle demon, on earth called Beelzebub, marked him out for attack, now
embarrassing him with learned controversial argument, now tormenting him
with cruel mockery. The stubborn monk hurled his ink-pot at his head and
went on with his dismal reformation. What ultimately happened? The
sturdy mariner repaired, calked, and refloated the damaged ship of the
Church. Jesus Christ owes it to this shaveling that his shipwreck was
delayed for perhaps more than ten centuries. Henceforth things went from
bad to worse. In the wake of this loutish monk, this beer-swiller and
brawler, came that tall, dry doctor from Geneva, who, filled with the
spirit of the ancient Iahveh, strove to bring the world back again to
the abominable days of Joshua and the Judges of Israel. A maniac was he,
filled with cold fury, a heretic and a burner of heretics, the most
ferocious enemy of the Graces.

"These mad apostles and their mad disciples made even demons like
myself, even the horned devils, look back longingly on the time when the
Son with his Virgin Mother reigned over the nations dazzled with
splendours: cathedrals with their stone tracery delicate as lace,
flaming roses of stained glass, frescoes painted in vivid colours
telling countless wondrous tales, rich orfrays, glittering enamel of
shrines and reliquaries, gold of crosses and of monstrances, waxen
tapers gleaming like starry galaxies amid the gloom of vaulted arches,
organs with their deep-toned harmonies. All this doubtless was not the
Parthenon, nor yet the Panathenaea, but it gladdened eyes and hearts; it
was, at all events, beauty. And these cursed reformers would not suffer
anything either pleasing or lovable. You should have seen them climbing
in black swarms over doorways, plinths, spires, and bell-towers,
striking with senseless hammers those images in stone which the demons
had carved working hand in hand with the master designers, those genial
saints and dear, holy women