operation was tedious. In November 1663, he began to wear a peruke, which was then a new fashion, and he seems to have been nervous about appearing in it at public worship. To church, where I found that my coming in a periwig did not prove so strange as I was afraid it would, for I thought that all the church would presently cast their eyes upon me, but I found no such thing.' A day or two before, he had been equally anxious on presenting himself in this

guise before his patron and principal, the Earl of Sandwich. The earl' wondered to see me in my perukuque, and I am glad it is over.'

Pepys had a church to which he considered himself as attached; but he often-indeed, for the most part-went to others. One day, after attending his own church in the forenoon, and dining, he tells us, 'I went and ranged and ranged about to many churches, among the rest to the Temple, where I heard Dr Wilkins a

little.' It was something like a man of fashion looking in at a succession of parties in an evening of the London season.

Very generally, Pepys makes no attempt to conceal how far secular feelings intruded both on his motives for going to church, and his thoughts while there. On the 11th August 1661, To our own church in the forenoon, and in the afternoon to Clerkenwell Church, only to see the two fair Botelers.' He got into a pew from which I had my full view of them both; but I am out of conceit now with them.'

His general conduct at church was not good. In the first place, he allows his eyes to wander. He takes note of a variety of things:-'By coach to Greenwich Church, where a good sermon, a fine church, and a great company of handsome women.' On another occasion, attending a strange church, we are told, 'There was also my pretty black girl.'

Then, if anything ludicrous occurs, he has not a proper command of his countenance: Before sermon, I laughed at the reader, who, in his prayer, desired of God that he would imprint his Word on the thumbs of our right hands and on the right great toes of our right feet.' He even talks in church somewhat shamelessly, without excuse, or attempt at making excuse: In the pew both Sir Williams and I had much talk about the death of Sir Robert.'

Again, there was one more sad trick he hadhe occasionally went to sleep: After dinner, to church again, my wife and I, where we had a dull sermon of a stranger, which made me sleep.' Here he satisfies his conscience with excuses. But sometimes he is without excuse, and then is sorry Sermon again, at which I slept; God forgive me!'

:

At church he has a habit of criticizing alike service and parson; and undeniably strange specimens of both seem to have come under his notice. First, the prayers. He goes to White Hall Chapel, with my lord,' but the ceremonies,' he says did not please me, they do so overdo them.' In fact, the singing takes his fancy much more. He is not without some skill himself: To the Abbey, and there meeting with Mr Hooper, he took me in among the quire, and there I sang with them their service.' It was very well for him he had this taste; for on one occasion, he tells us, a psalm was set which lasted an hour, while some collection or other was being made. He criticizes the congregation also, instead of bestowing his whole attention on what is going

on.

He observes, 'The three sisters of the Thornburys, very fine, and the most zealous people that ever I saw in my life, even to admiration, if it were true zeal.' He has his personal observations to make of the parson, with little show of reverence sometimes: Went to the red-faced parson's church.' There, however, 'I heard a good sermon of him, better than I looked for.'

The sermon itself never escapes from his criticism. It is an excellent sermon,' or 'a dull sermon,' or 'a very good sermon,' or a lazy, poor sermon, or a good, honest, and painful sermon.' He evidently expects the parson to take pains and be judicious: on one occasion an Oxford

PEPYS AND HIS DIARY.

man gave us a most impertinent sermon,' and on another, a stranger preached like a fool.' But he does not seem to have minded these gentlemen availing themselves of the services of each other, or repeating their own discourses; he seems to have been quite used to it: I heard a good sermon of Dr Bucks, one I never heard before.'

He goes home to dinner; and, although he makes a point of remembering the text, he can seldom retain the exact words. It is generally after this fashion he has to enter it in the Diary: 'Heard a good sermon upon "teach us the right way," or something like it.' But, as a proof that he listened, he often favours us with a little abstract of how the subject was treated.

Pepys's Sunday dinner is generally a good one -he is particular about it: My wife and I alone to a leg of mutton, the sauce of which being made sweet, I was angry at it, and ate none :' not that he went without dinner, he 'dined on the marrow-bone, that we had beside.' Fasting did not suit him. He began, one first day of Lent, and says, I do intend to try whether I can keep it or no;' but presently we read, 'Notwithstanding my resolution, yet, for want of other victuals, I did eat flesh this Lent.' Now, how long would the reader fancy from that passage that he stood it ?-alas! the register is made on the second day only!

or

Then, after dinner, what does Mr Pepys do? To put it simply, he enjoys himself. Often, indeed, he goes out to dinner (his wife going also), or has guests (with their wives) at his own house; but always, by some means other, he contrives to get through a large amount of drinking before evening. At dinner and supper I drank, I know not how, of my own accord, so much wine, that I was even almost foxed, and my head aked all night.' Yet let us, in fairness, quote the rest: So home, and to bed, without prayers, which I never did yet, since I came to the house, of a Sunday night: I being now so out of order, that I durst not read prayers, for fear of being perceived by my servants in what case I was.'

But this is not Mr Pepys's only Sabbath amusement. He is musical: Mr Childe and I spent some time at the lute.' Or he takes a very sober walk, to which the strictest will not object. In the evening (July), my father and I walked round past home, and viewed all the fields, which was pleasant.' Sometimes he treats himself to a more doubtful indulgence: Mr Edward and I into Greye's Inn walks, and saw many beauties.' Nor was this an exceptional instance, or at a friend's instigation: I to Greye's Inn walk all alone, and with great pleasure, seeing the fine ladies walk there.'

On some part of the day, unless he was in very bad condition,-as, for instance, that night when there were no prayers,-Mr Pepys cast up his accounts. We read, Casting up my accounts, I do find myself to be worth £40 more, which I did not think.' Or, Stayed at home the schole afternoon, looking over my accounts.' And sometimes he so far hurts his conscience by this proceeding as to be fain to make excuses and apologies: All the morning at home, making up my

MANDRIN.

grand ball was held at St James's Palace, which came to an abrupt conclusion, as thus described in a magazine of the period: There was but one dance, occasioned, it is said, by the following circumstance. Colonel Lenox, who had not danced a minuet, stood up with Lady Catherine Barnard. The Prince of Wales did not see this until he and his partner, the princess royal, came to Colonel Lenox's place in the dance, when, struck with the incongruity, he took the princess's hand, just as she was about to be turned by Colonel Lenox, and led her to the bottom of the dance. The Duke of York and the Princess Augusta came next, and they turned the colonel without the least particularity or exception. The Duke of Clarence, with the Princess Elizabeth, came next, and his highness followed the example of the Prince of Wales. The dance proceeded, however, and Lenox and his partner danced down. When they came to the prince and princess, his royal highness took his sister, and led her to her chair by the queen. Her majesty, addressing herself to the Prince of Wales, said "You seem heated, sir, and tired!" "I am heated and tired, madam," said the prince, "not with the dance, but with dancing in such company." "Then, sir," said the queen, "it will be better for me to withdraw, and put an end to the ball!" "It certainly will be so," replied the prince, "for I never will countenance insults given to my family, however they may be treated by others." Accordingly, at the end of the dance, her majesty and the princesses withdrew, and the ball concluded. The Prince of Wales explained to Lady Catherine Barnard the reason of his conduct, and assured her that it gave him much pain that he had been under the necessity of acting in a manner that might subject a lady to a moment's embarrassment.'

A person named Swift wrote a pamphlet on the affair, taking the duke's side of the question. This occasioned another duel, in which Swift was shot in the body by Colonel Lenox. The wound, however, was not mortal, for there is another pamphlet extant, written by Swift on his own duel.

Colonel Lenox immediately after exchanged into the thirty-fifth regiment, then quartered at Edinburgh. On his joining this regiment, the officers gave a grand entertainment, the venerable castle of the Scottish metropolis was brilliantly illuminated, and twenty guineas were given to the men for a merry-making. Political feeling, the paltry conduct of the duke, the bold and straightforward bearing of the colonel, and probably a lurking feeling of Jacobitism-Lenox being a left-handed descendant of the Stuart race-made him the most popular man in Edinburgh at the time. The writer has frequently heard an old lady describe the clapping of hands, and other popular emanations of applause, with which Colonel Lenox was received in the streets of Edinburgh.

MANDRIN.

It is a curious consideration regarding France, that she had a personage equivalent to the Robin Hood of England and the Rob Roy of the Scottish Highlands, after the middle of the eighteenth

CORPUS CHRISTI DAY.

century. We must look mainly to bad government and absurd fiscal arrangements for an explanation of this fact. Louis Mandrin had served in the war of 1740, in one of the light corps which made it their business to undertake unusual dangers for the surprise of the enemy. The peace of 1748 left him idle and without resource; he had no other mode of supporting life than to be continually risking it. In these circumstances, he bethought him of assembling a corps of men like himself, and putting himself at their head; and began in the interior of France an open war against the farmers and receivers of the royal revenues. He made himself master of Autun, and of some other towns, and pillaged the public treasuries to pay his troops, whom he also employed in forcing the people to purchase contraband merchandise. He beat off many detachments of troops sent against him. The court, which was at Marly, began to be afraid. The royal troops showed a strong reluctance to operate against Mandrin, considering it derogatory to engage in such a war; and the people began to regard him as their protector against the oppressions of the revenue officers.

At length, a regiment did attack and destroy Mandrin's corps. He escaped into Switzerland, whence for a time he continued to infest the borders of Dauphiny. By the baseness of a mistress, he was at length taken and conducted into France; his captors unscrupulously breaking the laws of Switzerland to effect their object, as Napoleon afterwards broke those of Baden for the seizure of the Duc d'Enghien. Conducted to Valence, he was there tried, and on his own confession condemned to the wheel. He was executed on the 26th of May 1755.

CORPUS CHRISTI DAY (1864).

This is a festival of the Roman Catholic Church held on the Thursday after Whit Sunday, being designed in honour of the doctrine of transubstantiation. It is a day of great show and rejoicing; was so in England before the Reformation, as it still is in all Catholic countries. The main feature of the festival is a procession, in which the pyx containing the consecrated bread is carried, both within the church and throughout the adjacent streets, by one who has a canopy held over him. Sundry figures follow, representing favourite saints in a characteristic manner-Ursula with her many maidens, St George killing the dragon, Christopher wading the river with the infant Saviour upon his shoulders, Sebastian stuck full of arrows, Catherine with her wheel; these again succeeded by priests bearing each a piece of the sacred plate of the church. The streets are decorated with boughs, the pavement strewed with flowers, and a venerative multitude accompany the procession. As the pyx approaches, every one falls prostrate before it. The excitement is usually immense.

After the procession there used to be mystery or miracle plays, a part of the ceremonial which in some districts of this island long survived the Reformation, the Protestant clergy vainly endeavouring to extinguish what was not merely religion, but amusement.

JOHN CALVIN.

MAY 27.

St Julius, martyr, about 302. St John, pope, martyr, 526. St Bede, confessor, father of the Church,' 735.

Born.-Alighieri Dante, poet, 1265, Florence; Caspar Scioppius, learned grammarian, Catholic controversialist, 1576, Neumarck; Cardinal Louis de Noailles, 1651, Paris; Rev. T. D. Fosbroke, antiquarian writer, 1770.

Died.-John Calvin, theologian, 1564, Geneva; Gui de Faur, seigneur de Pibrac, reformer of the bar of France, 1584; Vincent Voiture, prince of the belleslettres of France in his day, 1648; Archibald, Marquis of Argyle, beheaded at Edinburgh, 1661; Dominique Bouhours, jesuit, (grammar and critical literature,) 1702, Clermont; Charles de la Rue, eminent French preacher, one of the fabricators of the 'Delphin Classics,' 1725; Comte de Loewendhall, marshal of France, 1755; Henry Dundas, first Viscount Melville, statesman, 1811, Edinburgh; Noah Webster, author of an English dictionary, 1843, Newhaven, U.S.

JOHN CALVIN.

It would be difficult to name a theologian who has exercised a deeper and more tenacious influence on the human mind than John Calvin. To him the Protestantism of France and Switzerland, the Puritanism of England and New England, and, above all, the Presbyterianism of Scotland, owed their life and vigour. Luther has been called the heart of the Reformation, but Calvin its head.

He was the son of a cooper, and was born at Noyon, in Picardy, on the 10th of July 1509. Manifesting in his childhood a pious disposition, he was destined for the priesthood; and, aided by a wealthy family of Noyon, his father sent him to the University of Paris. At the age of twelve he obtained a benefice, and other preferment followed; but as his talents developed, it was thought he would make a better lawyer than a divine; and at Paris, Orleans, and Bruges, he studied law under the most celebrated professors. Calvin was in nowise averse to this change in his profession, for he had begun to read the Bible, and to grow dissatisfied with the doctrines of the Catholic Church; but, when at Bruges, he met Wolmar the Reformer, who fully confirmed him in the Protestant faith, and inspired him with a burning desire for its propagation. For this purpose he resolved to leave law and return to divinity. He went to Paris, and whilst there induced the Rector of the University to deliver a discourse on All Saints' Day, in which the tenets of the reformers were boldly set forth. In consequence of the excitement produced, both had to fly for their lives; and Calvin found refuge at Angouléme, where he supported himself by teaching Greek. In this retreat he composed the greater part of The Institutes of the Christian Religion, which he published at Basle in 1535. When we consider the excellent Latinity of this work, its severe logic, the range and force of its thought, its fame and effects, it does indeed appear the most wonderful literary achievement by a young man under twenty-six recorded in history. In 1536 he visited Geneva, where Protestantism had the same year been established, and, at the earnest request of Farel and some

JOHN CALVIN.

leading citizens, he was induced to settle there as preacher. His presence was quickly felt in Geneva. In conjunction with Farel, he drew up a plan for its government, which was passed into law, but which, when carried into execution, was felt so intolerable, that the citizens rebelled, and drove Farel and Calvin out of the town.

Calvin then took up his residence in Strasburg, where he became minister of a French congregation, into which he introduced his own form of while made in Geneva to bring back its inhabitchurch government. Great efforts were meanants to the fold of Rome; but Calvin addressed such able epistles to them that the reactionists made no progress.

In 1541 he was invited back to Geneva, and at once became the virtual ruler of the city. He laid before the council his scheme of government, which they implicitly accepted. The code was as minute as severe, and carried as it were the private regulations of a stern and pious father in his household out into the public sphere of the commonwealth, and annexed thereto all the pains and penalties of the magistrate. It was Calvin's aim to make Geneva a model city, an example and light to the world. His rule was tyrannous; but, if gaiety vanished, and vice hid itself in hypocrisy, at least industry, education, and literature of a certain sort flourished under his

sway.

The painful passage in Calvin's career was the martyrdom of Servetus. With Michael Servetus, a physician, he had at one time carried on a theological correspondence, which unfortunately degenerated into acrimony and abuse on both sides; and of Calvin, ever afterwards, Servetus was accustomed to speak with the utmost contempt. The exasperation was mutual, and of the bitterest kind. In 1546 Calvin wrote to Farel, vowing that if ever Servetus came within his grasp he should not escape scathless. Besides, Servetus had written a book on the Trinity, in which he had expressed opinions akin to those of the Unitarians, and which subjected him to the charge of heresy alike by Catholics and Protestants. In the summer of 1553, Servetus was rash enough to enter Geneva on his way to Italy, when he was arrested, thrown into prison, and brought to trial as a hereticCalvin acting throughout as informer, prosecutor, and judge. He was sentenced to death, and, on the 27th of October, was burned at the stake with more than ordinary cruelty. Dreadful as such a deed now seems to us, it was then a matter of course. All parties in those times considered it the duty of the magistrate to extirpate opinions deemed erroneous. A Protestant led to martyrdom did not dream of pleading for mercy on the ground of freedom of conscience, or of toleration. In his eyes the crime of his persecutors lay in their hatred of the truth as manifested in him. If only his cords were loosed, and he endowed with power, he in like manner would find it his duty to prosecute his adversaries until they consented to confess the truth in unity with him. Yet, after making every allowance for the spirit of his age, it is impossible to escape the painful conclusion that there was as much revenge as mistaken justice