The chancel, which is very small, can scarcely be seen from the nave, for the entrance is so blocked up on both sides by the manorial-pews, or rather galleries, that the passage between is exceedingly narrow. When entered, it has a rich and gorgeous appearance. The ceiling is brilliantly painted with a representation of the Last Supper; the windows are filled with stained glass; the altarrails are of massive oak, elaborately carved; the communion-table inlaid with mosaic-work; and the floor paved with fine polished marble. Yet the whole has a secular appearance.

The tower, which has large unsightly windows, is surmounted by a low spire, on which is placed a large hollow ball forming a room, with a seat round it that will hold twelve persons. But as it is entered by a ladder outside the spire, few persons have the nerve to make themselves acquainted

with its interior. On the north wall, outside the church, which is dedicated to St Lawrence, there is a representation of him suffering martyrdom on a gridiron, with this inscription: Though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.' And on the south side, there is a sun-dial, with this text: 'Keep thy tongue from evil-speaking, lying, and slandering.' Near the east end of the church is erected a large hexagonal mausoleum, without a roof. This singular building contains niches and recesses for sepulchral urns and monuments, and stands, together with the church, on a very high hill apart from the village. When seen at a distance, it is impossible to describe the odd appearance which the whole pile presents the ball above the tower looking as if flying in the air.

These remarkable structures were built by the gay and eccentric Sir Francis Dashwood, about the time he became Lord le Despencer. He was the originator and president of the notorious Medmenham Club, or Monks of St Francis, as they named themselves, assuming the garb, but not the austerities, of that order. About half-way down the hill is an excavation, a quarter of a mile long, and running under the church, which is also said to have been his lordship's work, but more probably he only adapted it to his fancy. It is entered by a massive door, formed in an artificial ruin, and

consists of a series of lofty caves, connected by a passage, which is in some places divided into two or three parts by huge pillars of chalk, left to support the roof. Near the middle of the excavation, there is a small pool, which is now crossed by steppingstones, but formerly, it is said, it could only be passed in a boat. The excavation terminates in a large, lofty, circular cavern, with a vaulted roof, in which is a hook for suspending a lamp or chandelier. Here, according to local tradition, the Medmenham Club occasionally held its meetings. And certainly, if its president wished to be near his home, this spot would be convenient, being only half a mile distant. So also, if the club desired special secrecy, no place could be more suitable, seeing that when the door at the entrance was barred from within, and the pool, which the monks called the Styx, was crossed in their boat, their doings in this cavern would be as secure from interruption from the rest of the world, as if they were actually being enacted in the infernal regions themselves. But it is probable, notwithstanding all that has been said on the subject, that nothing was really practised either here, or at Medmenham, their usual place of meeting, more profane or immoral than what was openly practised in most of the convivial societies of that period. This was strenuously maintained in his old age by the last surviving member of the society. And doubtless it was only the mystery and eccentricities with which they chose to invest their proceedings, that gave rise to so many foolish tales and conjectures respecting their doings. As to the assertions and insinuations against them by the author of Chrysal, they are unworthy of credit, since his description of their place of meeting shews that he had no personal knowledge of the subject. Medmenham Abbey is not, as he states, in an island, but beautifully situated on the north bank of the Thames ; and the room in which the club met remains just as described by Langley in 1797, and is now frequently used by picnic-parties. The rest of the building, though occupied by cottagers, has been so slightly altered externally, that the whole has realised the appearance predicted by Langley seventy years ago. The additional ruined tower, cloister, and other corresponding parts, as he says, were made with so much taste and propriety, that, now they have become clothed with ivy and mosses, they can scarcely be distinguished from the ancient remains; and the whole building has now assumed such a natural and picturesque appearance, that more than one eminent artist has chosen it for the subject of his pencil, probably regarding the whole as the interesting remains of an ancient monastery.

OCTOBER 26.

St Evaristus, pope and martyr, 112. Saints Lucian and Marcian, martyrs, 250.

Born.-Charles François Dupuis, astronomer, 1742, Trie-Chateau, near Chaumont; George James Danton, revolutionary leader, 1759, Arcis-sur-Aube.

Died.-Abulfeda, Mohammedan historian, 1331, Syria; Samuel Puffendorf, distinguished jurist, 1694, Berlin; Sir Godfrey Kneller, portrait-painter, 1723; Dr Philip Doddridge, eminent divine and author, 1751, Lisbon.

DANTON.

DANTON.

Danton, more than any man whom the French Revolution threw to the surface, realises the popular idea of a revolutionist. In person he was almost gigantic-tall and muscular. His head was large, and covered with stiff black hair, and his eyebrows bushy. His features were bold and irregular, and were by some called ugly; but when lit up by the fire of his intellect, their coarseness disappeared in harmony. His voice was powerful-in the outbursts of his oratory, terrible and was likened to thunder and a lion's roar. Courage, audacity, and power were manifest in his bearing, and his career did not belie his appearance.

He was born in 1759 at Arcis-sur-Aube, of wellto-do farming-people, and was educated for a lawyer. He went to Paris to finish his studies, and there commenced practice as a barrister. He sought the acquaintance of Mirabeau, Camille Desmoulins, Robespierre, Marat, and others, notable for their devotion to revolutionary ideas. He lived economically, and spent his days in the assembly and his nights at the clubs. He ventured to speak, and the discerning were not slow to perceive that in the orator a great power had arisen. Danton attached himself to the Girondists, and, says Lamartine, Madame Roland flattered him, but with fear and repugnance, as a woman would pat a lion.'

| Daily he grew in popularity, and with Marat led the formidable club of Cordeliers. The court sought his influence by bribes, and in the pride of his strength he exclaimed: 'I shall save the king or kill him!' The revolution, however, was greater than Danton. He who would live in it was forced to run with it or be trampled in its path. After the flight of Louis to Varennes, he advocated his dethronement, and declared in the assembly that hesitation in pronouncing the throne vacant, would be the signal for general insurrection. When Prussia in 1792, invaded France in vindication of royalty, and spread terror on every side, Danton, by his brave words, gave courage to the nation." "Legislators!' said he, 'it is not the alarm-cannon that you hear it is the pas-de-charge against our enemies. To conquer them, to hurl them back, what do we require? Il nous faut de l'audace, et encore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace: To dare, and again to dare, and without end to dare!' In a few weeks, fourteen republican armies were in the field, repelling the allied forces with a vigour and success which set Europe aghast. For the king's death Danton voted, but, like the Abbé Sièyes, assigned no reason. In his defiant style, he said: 'The coalesced kings threaten us; we hurl at their feet, as gage of battle, the head of a king.'

Under the Revolution, Danton was first a minister of justice, and then president of the Committee of Public Safety-a body of six men, who were intrusted with absolute executive power, and who therefore bear the infamy of the Reign of Terror. In the course of events, Robespierre and Danton came face to face as rivals for the leadership of Paris, and in Paris, of France. Danton was luxurious, reckless, generous, and frank; on the other hand, Robespierre was ascetic, cold, severe, cautious, and uncompromising. In Robespierre's presence, Danton's power seemed to desert him, as

if he were a bird and Robespierre a snake. Feeling that the contest was unequal, he resigned office, and, with his young wife, retired to rural privacy near his native town of Arcis. In domestic confidence, he asserted that the reason of his retreat was horror at the approaching fate of Marie Antoinette.

Robespierre was of far too suspicious and envious a temper to allow an adversary to escape so quietly. Danton likewise had associates who keenly felt his absence from the field of action. He was recalled from Arcis to Paris. He met Robespierre, and was accused by him of embezzling the public money. He retorted by calling Robespierre a sanguinary tyrant. This dispute fixed his doom. His wife and friends urged him to fly. 'Whither fly?' answered he. If freed France cast me out, there are only dungeons for me elsewhere. One carries not his country with him at the sole of his shoe.' He heard of the arrest of his friends, and that his own warrant was made out, yet he would not move, saying: 'They dare not, they dare not!' But he forgot that he had Robespierre the merciless, the inflexible, to deal with. He was denounced by St Just as a traitor, and on the night of the 31st March 1794, was arrested. Brought up for trial on the 2d of April, he was asked by Fouquier Tinville his name and place of abode. My name,' said he, 'is Danton; a name tolerably well known in the Revolution. I am thirty-five years old. My abode will soon be in nothingness, but my name shall live in the pantheon of history. He defended himself with wild and scornful words, but was silenced on the ground that he was inciting the people to revolt. No witnesses were called against him, and his own witnesses were refused to be heard. As a matter of course, he was declared guilty.

In prison he affected indifference. They think to do without me,' said he; 'they deceive themselves. I was the statesman of Europe. They do not suspect the void which this head leaves' (pressing his cheeks between the palms of his large hands). As to me, I laugh at it. I have enjoyed my moments of existence well; I have made plenty of noise upon earth; I have tasted well of life-let us go to sleep!' In the cart in which he was taken to execution, he had thirteen companions, and among them Camille Desmoulins, the sprightliest spirit of the Revolution, who could not believe that he would be allowed to die. He wriggled to get free from the cords which bound him until his clothes came off, crying at the same time: 'Generous people! unhappy people! you are deceived, you are undone, your best friends are sacrificed! Recognise me! save me! I am Camille Desmoulins!" 'Be calm, my friend,' prayed Danton; 'heed not that vile rabble!' At the foot of the scaffold, Danton was heard to ejaculate: 'O my wife, my well-beloved, I shall never see thee more !'-then, interrupting himself 'Danton, no weakness!' He was the last to suffer. His last words were to Samson, the executioner: You will shew my head to the people-it is well worth shewing!' As it fell, Samson caught the head from the basket, and carried it round the scaffold amidst the howls of the people.

Danton died on the 5th April 1794. Robespierre's triumph was brief; his own head fell on the 28th of July.

FOUNDER OF MERTON COLLEGE.

SIR GODFREY KNELLER.

Sir Godfrey Kneller was the favourite painter of portraits in England, from Charles II.'s time to the reign of George I.

He was born at Lubeck in 1648. After having been some time a painter, he came to England in the ordinary course of his travels. When here, by a series of accidents, he was employed to paint Charles II. and the Duke of Monmouth, and gave such satisfaction, by his portraits of these personages, that he found it profitable to remain in the country.

Horace Walpole maintains that Kneller, had he chosen to turn his attention to high art, would have made an artist of the first class: as it was, he only painted portraits, and some of those in a very inferior manner. The reason which he assigned for his choice of portrait-painting above other branches of art, was that of a man who cared more for his rank on this earth than his rank in the universe. 'Painters of history,' he observed, 'make the dead live, and do not begin to live themselves till they are dead. I paint the living, and they make me live.'

His

Certainly, so they did. Kneller lived in magnificent style, lost £20,000 by the South-sea affair, and died in possession of £2000 a year. accumulation of wealth bears witness to his popularity. He had the honour of painting ten crowned heads. These were Charles II., James II. and his queen, William and Mary, Anne, George I., Louis XIV., Peter the Great, and the Emperor Charles VI. Besides these, he painted many other illustrious personages; among whom were Addison, Bishop Burnet, John Locke, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Pope, Newton, &c. He painted the beauties of Hampton Court for King William, and likewise perpetuated on canvas the members of the Kit-Cat Club. These celebrated portraits of the most distinguished Whigs of that day were painted for Jacob Tonson, the secretary of the club. Mr Christopher Cat, pastry-cook, of King Street, Westminster, and keeper of the tavern where the club met, was thus immortalised.

James was sitting to Kneller at the very minute that the news reached him of the arrival of the Prince of Orange. The picture was for Pepys, who had been a favourite and faithful servant. James told the painter to proceed with his work, that his good friend Pepys might not be disappointed.

Kneller was knighted in 1692 by William, and made a baronet in 1715 by George I. He was always a vain man, a weakness for which his friend, Pope, incessantly ridicules him in his letters. The poet furnished an inscription (by no means a brilliant specimen of his genius) to Sir Godfrey's monument in Westminster Abbey, for the erection of which the latter himself bequeathed the sum of £300.

THE FOUNDER OF MERTON COLLEGE.

A codicil to the will of Walter de Merton, leaving the residue of his property to his college, bears date October 26, 1277. This ecclesiastic was one of the four lord-chancellors to whom Oxford is so largely indebted. These were Walter de Merton, who founded Merton College; William de

Wykeham, the founder of New College; William of Waynflete, who founded Magdalen College; and Thomas Wolsey of Ipswich, the founder of Christchurch College. Walter de Merton may be said to have exercised the most influence of the four upon Oxford, because it was he who introduced the collegiate system; the others only elaborated and extended it. In the same way Merton College must be considered the most interesting, if not the most beautiful, because it was the germ whence the rest were developed. The foundation of this establishment appears to have been a scheme to which Chancellor Merton gave his whole heart. There were, doubtless, halls of greater antiquity, but they consisted only of lodgings for the scholars. The scheme of Walter provided a chapel, with residence for chaplains, and accommodation for a warden having charge of the scholars, within the same premises. The endowments speak of a strong influence exerted on behalf of his favourite project, for the lands forming great part of the revenue are widely scattered, marking, it would seem, the gifts of numerous nobles. There are lands and houses and chancels of churches beyond the Tyne, pertaining to Merton College.

Following the rule, that the affix to a Christian name denoted a birthplace, Walter's biographers have mentioned Merton, in Surrey, as the place of his nativity. This is, however, conjectural; and there is equal probability that he was born at Basingstoke, where it is certain his parents lived, died, and were buried. In his after-days, he founded a hospital in Basingstoke to the memory of his father and mother. The day of his death, and the place at which it occurred, are as uncertain as those of his birth; but his will directed that he should be buried in his cathedral of Rochester. The intermediate events of his life are scarcely better known. He was lord-chancellor of England more than once; but whether he received the seals of office twice or thrice, is not quite apparent. Bishop Hobhouse considered he was chancellor twice during the reign of Henry III.; and it is certain that he fulfilled the duties of the chancellorship for the two years preceding the coronation of Edward I. When that event took place, Walter retired from office, and accepted the see of Rochester. A view of his life is a commentary upon his times. Scholar and ecclesiastic, he was chosen by the most powerful nobles in the land, who would not so trust each other, to hold the highest post.

THE TWO BIG BENS.

No other bell ever underwent such a career of misfortune as that which was intended for use in the new Houses of Parliament. From the time when that immense structure was commenced, it was resolved that both the clock and the hour-bell should be the largest ever seen in this country; but it was not till 1844 that the late Sir Charles Barry solicited tenders for their construction. Through a course of wrangling, which it would be of little use here to elucidate, fifteen years elapsed before the clock was finished and actually at work in its place; this was in 1859. The clock is not only the largest but one of the most accurate we possess. The ponderous weights hang down a shaft 160 feet deep, and require winding-up only once

THE TWO BIG BENS.

a week. The pendulum, 15 feet long, weighs 680 pounds; and so delicate is its action, that a small weight of only one ounce, placed on a particular part of the apparatus, will alter the rate of the clock one second per week. On the four sides of the clock-tower are dial-rooms, each a large apartment, traversed by mechanism which communicates motion from the clock to the hands. Each of the four clock-dials is 224 feet diameter; and the mere cast-iron framework of each dial weighs no less than 4 tons. The hour-figures are 2 feet high and 6 feet apart, and the minute-marks are 14 inches apart. The outer point of the minute-hand makes a sudden leap of 7 inches every half minute. The hands weigh more than two hundredweight the pair; the minute-hand being 16 feet long, and the hour-hand 9 feet. In order to render the dials visible at night, each dial-face is glazed with enamelled or opalised glass, with 60 gas-jets behind it.

It

Such is the magnificent clock, for which suitable bells were sought to be made. The original scheme was for a clock that would strike the hours on a bell of eight to ten tons, and chime the quarters upon eight smaller bells.' It was afterwards decided that there should be only four bells for the chimes, in addition to the great hour-bell. In the four corners of the bell-room these bells are placed; the first with a weight of 4 tons, and yielding the musical note B; the second, weight 2 tons, and note E; the third, weight 1 ton, and note F; and the fourth, weight 1 ton, and note G By varying the order in which these are struck, they produce four chimes or partial melodies, at the four divisions of each hour; and at the full or completed hour, the whole sixteen sounds form a simple but beautiful melody in the key of E major. These four bells were made and hung nearly in the manner first designed; but the fifth-the king of the belfry, that was to hang in the vacant space between them-has not been so fortunate. was to have been about 9 feet in diameter, 9 inches thick at the sound-bow, and to weigh 14 tons-nearly three times the weight of the great bell of St Paul's Cathedral; it was to be struck by a hammer of a ton weight, and was then to yield the note E, one octave lower than the E of the chimes, and forming a musical chord with the whole of them. The bell was designed by Mr E B. Denison, who, as an amateur, has displayed considerable skill in the theory of clock and bell work. After much disputing between commissioners, architects, and others, it was cast in August 1856, at Stockton on Tees, in Yorkshire. The mould was six weeks in preparation. The metal was melted in two furnaces, each containing ten tons. Eighteen out of the twenty tons of molten metal were poured into the mould, producing a bell about 8 feet high and 9 in diameter at the mouth. When turned and trimmed and finished, it weighed about 15 tons-a little more than had at first been intended. The ponderous mass was then carefully conveyed to London, and placed for a time at the foot of the clock-tower, where it was visited by multitudes of persons. Every Saturday it was struck a certain number of blows, that the quality and loudness of the sound might be tested. On one occasion,

the E was found to be a dull and uncertain sound; and this leading to a close scrutiny, it was found that, owing to a flaw in the metal, the bell was practically useless, and would ultimately be broken by the blows of the hammer. It was deemed a fortunate circumstance that the discovery was made before the bell had been raised into the tower. Officially, the bell was to have been named 'St Stephen; but a random sobriquet used in the Times, 'Big Ben,' caught the taste of the public; and in October 1857, it was known all over the country that 'Big Ben was cracked.' There then ensued another series of disputations, accusations, and counter-accusations. Another bell was cast by another bell-founder; it was somewhat less in weight than the former, but was made to yield the same tone. In October 1858, it was raised into its place, a task requiring very perfect appliances; for the weight, raised to a height of nearly 200 feet, was not less than 25 tons, or 56,000 pounds-including bell, cradle, chains, and tackle.

Thus was Big Ben the second cast on the 10th of April, taken out of the mould on the 24th, sent to Westminster on the 31st of May, tried as to tone by Dr Turle on the 18th of June, and finally raised to his destined place in October. During November, Big Ben underwent a long series of blows with hammers weighing from 4 to 7 hundredweight each. The clock was put up in its place, and for some time the inhabitants of the metropolis heard the chime-bells every quarter of an hour, and Big Ben every hour. But another misfortune arose: Ben the second cracked like Ben the first. Then ensued an accusation, a bitter controversy, and a lawsuit; and then fragments of Big Ben were analysed by Professor Tyndall and Dr Percy; while Professor Airey tried to ascertain whether the bell might still be used, though cracked. The subject of Big Ben became almost ludicrous. Not only was the deep E of the bell not to be heard, but the other four were silenced also, and the clock was stopped; insomuch that Earl Derby, in June 1860, said in the House of Lords: 'We all know the circumstances under which we have been deprived of the doubtful advantage of hearing the tones of the great bell; but when a clock ceases to address itself to the sense of hearing, that is no reason it should decline to present itself to the sense of sight. One of the hands has disappeared altogether, and the other stands at twelve; so that it has the merit of being right at least once in the twelve hours.' The earl spoke of the 'doubtful' advantage of hearing the bell. It appears that the tone, when very slowly repeated, had a melancholy and depressing effect on many persons, and was not much liked by those who were attending parliament, or the courts in Westminster Hall. Earl Grey, speaking after the Earl of Derby, ' rejoiced that the great bell had been cracked, and trusted no attempt would be made to make the clock speak to their ears again in the old

6

tones.'

The two Big Bens cost the country nearly £4000, all expenses included. One was broken up and remelted; the other had the flaw or crack for which it was condemned, widened by filing, in order to prevent vibration; in calm weather it can now be heard over the greater part of London.

MICHAEL SERVETUS.

OCTOBER 27.

St Frumentius, apostle of Ethiopia, bishop and confessor, 4th century. St Abban, abbot in Ireland, about 500. St Elesbaan, king of Ethiopia, confessor, 6th century.

Born. Mrs Hester Chapone, moral writer, 1727, Twywell, Northamptonshire; Captain James Cook, celebrated voyager, 1728, Marton, Yorkshire; Dr Andrew Combe, eminent physiologist, 1797, Edinburgh.

Died.-Marcus Junius Brutus, assassin of Julius Caesar, 42 B. C., Philippi; Pope Eugenius II, 827; Michael Servetus, burned for heresy at Geneva, 1553; Rev. John Thomson, landscape-painter, 1840, Duddingston, near Edinburgh; Madame Ida Pfeiffer, celebrated traveller, 1858, Vienna.

MICHAEL SERVETUS.

The fate of this unfortunate man has evoked an amount of discussion and interest which were doubtless little anticipated by the civil and spiritual rulers of Geneva, when they consigned him to the flames as a heretic and blasphemer. The reputation of Calvin and his followers is deeply concerned in this transaction, which no one, even of his warmest admirers, will at the present day attempt to defend, however much they may try to palliate and excuse. As regards the Reformers, and the right claimed by them of making the Scriptures the sole rule of faith, and interpreting them according to the dictates of private judgment, the burning of Servetus must be pronounced one of the most impolitic acts which they could have perpetrated, seeing that by this proceeding they committed themselves to the same cruel and intolerant system which they denounced so strongly in the Church of Rome.

Servetus was a native of Villanueva, in the kingdom of Aragon, in Spain, and having been destined by his father for the legal profession, was sent to study at Toulouse. Here he devoted himself to theological rather than juristic studies, and the result was a book entitled De Trinitatis Erroribus, which he published when only twenty-two. The heterodox views propounded in this work gave deep offence both to Protestants and Catholics, and so threatening to his safety was the hostile feeling excited, that the author deemed it prudent to change his name to Michel de Villeneuve, after his native town. He commenced, too, about this time the study of medicine, in which he made great proficiency, and appears, from a passage in his writings, to have first propounded the theory of the circulation of the blood, which, in the following century, was experimentally demonstrated by Harvey. Such eminence did he attain in his profession, that he came to be regarded as one of the ablest physicians in France, and both practised and lectured with great success at Paris, Lyon, and other places. Having subsequently obtained the post of municipal physician to the town of Vienne, in Dauphiné, he settled down there, and might have lived in tranquillity to the end of his days, were it not for an ardent missionary spirit which led him to fancy himself destined by Heaven for carrying out a sweeping reformation in religious doctrine and belief. With this view he composed, and had stealthily printed, his work entitled