"'My friends, my brothers, all of you who hear me, I return to your midst with good tidings. Until now, you have, by means of frightful acts of reprisal, returned evil with evil to the Franks, the abbots and bishops. These wicked folks so willed it--violence invites violence, oppression invites revolt, iniquity invites vengeance. The threatening words of Jesus have been verified--_They that take the sword, shall perish by the sword; Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, for ye bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men's shoulders; but ye yourselves will not move them with one of your fingers; Woe unto you that are rich, for ye have received your consolation._ To the poor who lacked the necessaries of life you gave the goods that you took from the conquering plunderers, or from the modern princes of the Church. Struck with terror, many a hard-hearted seigneur and prelate felt forced to relax his severity. You have administered justice; but, alas, an adventurous, merciless justice. It could not be otherwise. In these days of tyranny and civil war, of slavery and revolt, of atrocious misery and criminal opulence, people are hurled from the paths of morality. The innate sense of justice and injustice, of good and evil is beclouded in the popular mind. Some, besotted with terror, undergo unheard-of ills with abject and degrading resignation; others, a prey to headlong vertigo, mix actions of greatest nobility with deeds that are most reprehensible. Your vengeance fatedly begets incalculable misfortunes. No doubt there is now many a seigneur, who, merciless until recently, does now conduct himself with less cruelty towards his slaves, as a consequence of the terror with which you inspire him. But the next day? You will then be far away, and the butchers then resume their murderous propensities. You set the homes of the conquerors on fire; but those buildings are speedily raised again, and it is our brothers, the slaves, who are forced to rebuild them. You distribute among the poor a part of the tribute that you levy upon the seigneurs and the prelates; but after a few days of abundance, misery weighs anew upon the unhappy population, and, by contrast, it is more painful than before. The coffers that you rifle must all be refilled by our brothers, the slaves, by dint of fresh and crushing labors. What floods of tears! What floods of blood are shed! How many ruins mark your tracks, how many irreparable disasters!' "A voice cried out from the crowd: 'Have not our conquerors shed the blood of our race in torrents? Let the world perish, together with the iniquity that racks us! Death to the oppressors! Death to the seigneurs and the priests!' "My brother then proceeded: