Nor was this feeling confined to the Romish Church in France. The Reformed Church was fully as hostile against the new and detested fashion. Bordeaux was in a state of insurrection, for no other reason than that the Calvinist pastor there had refused to admit any of his flock in wigs to the sacrament. And when Riviers, Protestant Professor of Theology at Leyden, wrote his ‘Libertas Christiana circa Usum Capillitii Defensa’ in behalf of perukes, the ultra-orthodox in both churches turned to gore him. The Romanists asked, what could be expected from a Protestant but rank heresy? and the Protestants disowned a brother who defended a fashion which had originated with a Romanist. Each party stood by the words of Paul to the Corinthians. In vain did some suggest that the apostolical injunction was only local. The ultras would heed no such suggestion, and would have insisted on bare heads at both poles. “And yet,” remarked the wiggites, “it is common for preachers to preach in caps.” “Ay,” retorted the orthodox, “but that is simply because they are then speaking only in their own name. Reading the Gospel or offering up the adorable sacrifice, they are speaking or acting in the name of the Universal Church. Of course,” they added, “there are occasions when even a priest may be covered. If a Pope invented the _baret_, a curé may wear a cap.” Sylvester was the first Pontiff who wore a mitre, but even that fashion became abused; and in the year 1000 a Pope was seen with his mitre on during mass,—a sight which startled the faithful, and a fact which artists would be none the worse for remembering. _After_ that period, bishops took to them so pertinaciously that they hardly laid them by on going to bed. These prelates were somewhat scandalized, when the Popes granted to certain dukes the privilege of wearing the mitre; but when the like favour was granted to abbots of a peculiar class, the prelatic execration was uttered with a jealous warmth that was perfectly astounding.