Anathematizing every manifestation of occult nature outside the precincts of the Church, the clergy--notwithstanding proofs to the contrary--call it “the work of Satan,” “the snares of the fallen angels,” who “rush in and out from the bottomless pit,” mentioned by John in his kabalistic _Revelation_, “from whence arises a smoke as the smoke of a great furnace.” “_Intoxicated by its fumes, around this pit are daily gathering millions of Spiritualists, to worship at “the Abyss of Baal._”[9] More than ever arrogant, stubborn, and despotic, now that she has been nearly upset by modern research, not daring to interfere with the powerful champions of science, the Latin Church revenges herself upon the unpopular phenomena. A despot without a victim, is a word void of sense; a power which neglects to assert itself through outward, well-calculated effects, risks being doubted in the end. The Church has no intention to fall into the oblivion of the ancient myths, or to suffer her authority to be too closely questioned. Hence she pursues, as well as the times permit, her traditional policy. Lamenting the enforced extinction of her ally, the Holy Inquisition, she makes a virtue of necessity. The only victims now within reach are the Spiritists of France. Recent events have shown that the meek spouse of Christ never disdains to retaliate on helpless victims. Having successfully performed her part of _Deus-ex-Machina_ from behind the French Bench, which has not scrupled to disgrace itself for her, the Church of Rome sets to work and shows in the year 1876 what she can do. From the whirling tables and dancing pencils of profane Spiritualism, the Christian world is warned to turn to the divine “miracles” of Lourdes. Meanwhile, the ecclesiastical authorities utilize their time in arranging for other more easy triumphs, calculated to scare the superstitious out of their senses. So, acting under orders, the clergy hurl dramatic, if not very impressive anathemas from every Catholic diocese; threaten right and left; excommunicate and curse. Perceiving, finally, that her thunderbolts directed even against crowned heads fall about as harmlessly as the Jupiterean lightnings of Offenbach’s _Calchas_, Rome turns about in powerless fury against the victimized _protégés_ of the Emperor of Russia--the unfortunate Bulgarians and Servians. Undisturbed by evidence and sarcasm, unbaffled by proof, “the lamb of the Vatican” impartially divides his wrath between the liberals of Italy, “the impious whose breath has the stench of the sepulchre,”[10] the “schismatic Russian _Sarmates_,” and the heretics and spiritualists, “who worship at the bottomless pit where the great Dragon lies in wait.”