Mr. William Wallace had met in Cathedrals numbers one and two, repulses and rudeness. But each Cerberus who pretended to guard the documentary treasures of those dioceses, honestly showed his teeth. They had not been guilty of deceit. Deputy-Registrar number three was wiser in his generation. He gave a cold assent to the Bishop’s mandate in Mr. Wallace’s behalf; but with it such wily instructions to his clerks, as rendered it as nugatory as if he had put it in his waste basket or had lighted his cigar. During the two days that half-crowns rained in silver showers from the Antiquary’s purse, nearly every Will he asked for was produced; but now, on the third day, when the Bishop’s letter had closed his purse-strings, Mr. Wallace demanded document after document, and was told by the “Conservators” of this important kind of public property, that they had “been lost,” “could not be found,” “mislaid.” But the most frequent return was, “destroyed at the siege of the City, in the year 1643”—stolen away with the Tomb of Marmion when
“Fanatic Brooke
The fair Cathedral storm’d and took.”
The result of the three days’ investigations stood thus: “During the two paying days, out of a hundred Wills asked for, eighty were produced. Throughout the non-paying day, out of ninety Wills asked for, only one was produced!”
When half-crowns were rife, not one word was said about “the siege of the City, in the year 1643,” although nearly all the Wills Mr. Wallace was obliged with a sight of, were dated anterior to that destructive event.
For some explanation Mr. Wallace repaired to the Deputy-Registrar’s abode. It was too late. The clever sub. knew what was coming—and retreated from the field. The servant’s answer to Mr. Wallace was,
“Out of town, sir!”
But Mr. William Wallace was foiled even more completely in another point: he had a great desire to see where and how the Wills were kept. He knew their condition in 1832, from what Ulster King-at-Arms said before the Ecclesiastical Commission, “I consider the records very dirty; they have not, apparently, been dusted for many years.” The remarkable result of Mr. Wallace’s urgent inquiries was that not a soul he asked could, or would, tell in what place the ecclesiastical records of Cathedral number three were deposited.
Mr. Wallace gave up this investigation in despair and left the city. The locus of the documents was to him a mystery and a wonder!
The habits of the antiquary do not, however, dispose him to indulge in listless despair. To find out the secret masses of the records of Cathedral number three was a task Mr. William Wallace had so earnestly set himself, that next to his domestic relations and his literary labors, it grew into one of the duties of his existence; therefore, on his way to Cathedral number four, he paid another visit to the city of Cathedral number three, fortified with letters to some of its clergy. To be sure they could clear up the mystery.
His first application was to one of the Canons. Did he know where the ecclesiastical records were kept? Well, it was odd, but it never entered his head to inquire. He really did not know. Perhaps some of the Chapter officials could tell.