the same time, a mark of the religion or the tribe upon the forehead of the individual who belongs to it body and soul, and who glorifies in so belonging to it.

"On the other hand, in the former case there is nothing like this; but, upon the fore-arm oftenest, never upon the face "-this, as has been seen, is inexact-" we have devices and cynical symbols, profiles of women, and everything which is intended to remain hidden. If this shameful tattooing were a vestige of, or a reversion to, the habits of primitive savages it would be more often met with among women who were criminals than among male malefactors, for it was in the feminine sex, as we know, that the prejudices, the rites, and the ornaments of former ages-for example, earrings-took refuge a long while after they had been given up by men. But, on the contrary, it is male criminals almost exclusively who have a taste for tattooing."

As this volume has little concern with controversy, the point need not be further pressed. A slender case could easily be framed in support of the atavistic notion. Open devices of tattooing that breathe a spirit of violence, of vengeance, are not unfairly interpreted as "relics of a former state." But these devices are rare. Touching the rest, the atavistic argument is unproved.

A CITATION BEFORE THE

INQUISITION

I

EVERY year the Inquisition published its Edict of Faith. It was a terrible document, binding all persons, under penalty of excommunication, to accuse to the Inquisitor any one known to be a heretic, or any one suspected of heresy. Heretic and heresy were elastic and comprehensive terms in the unquiet days of the Inquisition. It was heretical to say or do any smallest thing which offended the strictest dogmas of the Roman Catholic Church. A "general sermon concerning the Faith" was preached on the Sunday on which the Edict was published, and every one must be present to hear it. In the Catholic world this must have been the most heart-shaking occasion of the whole year, for the devoutest mortal could not feel quite secure when the preacher thundered from his pulpit the duty of believers "in the matter of heretical pravity." A kind of panic zeal seized and transformed many of the listeners. The preacher wrought them to a pitch of fanatical

ecstasy, and the results were sure. Under the spell of the Edict and the sermon, the strenuous Catholic forgot or denied the ties of friendship and of blood; he must denounce some one in the sacred interests of the Church. Quite apart, therefore, from the accusations which were inspired by public or private enmity, instances were frequent in which persons went secretly before the Inquisition and accused of heresy their nearest relatives, their most intimate friends, their partners in business. Wives were known to swear against their husbands charges which were likely to bring them under the torture, and which might not improbably bring them, in the last stage of the Auto-da-Fé, to the fagot; husbands against their wives, children against their parents. The great and chief danger to the accused was that they were never confronted with their accusers. Secrecy, as Limborch says, was "the sinew of the Inquisition "; the victim fought for his life bound and blindfold; he might be led to the pile after weeks, months, or even years of suffering, knowing himself innocent of all offence against the Church, and ignorant even of the charge that had been laid against him.

There were several ways of setting an affair of the Inquisition in train, but the commonest was by process of denunciation. The denouncer, who was also called the appearing witness, went