Recollections of a Policeman

by William Russell

  Part XIX.

  THE DOOM OF ENGLISH WILLS.

  CATHEDRAL NUMBER ONE.

  There are few things in this beautiful country of England, morepicturesque to the eye, and agreeable to the fancy, than an oldCathedral town. Seen in the distance, rising from among cornfields,pastures, orchards, gardens, woods, the river, the bridge, the roofs ofancient houses, and haply the ruins of a castle or abbey, the venerableCathedral spires, opposed for many hundred years to the winter wind andsummer sun, tower, like a solemn historical presence, above the city,conveying to the rudest mind associations of interest with the duskyPast. On a nearer approach, this interest is heightened. Within thebuilding, by the long perspectives of pillars and arches; by the earthysmell, preaching more eloquently than deans and chapters, of the commondoom; by the praying figures of knights and ladies on the tombs, withlittle headless generations of sons and daughters kneeling around them;by the stained-glass windows, softening and mellowing the light; by theoaken carvings of the stalls, where the shorn monks told their beads; bythe battered effigies of archbishops and bishops, found built up in thewalls, when all the world had been unconscious, for centuries, of theirblunt stone noses; by the mouldering chapter-room; the crypt, with itsbarred loopholes, letting in long gleams of slanting light from theCloisters where the dead lie, and where the ivy, bred among the brokenarches, twines about their graves; by the sound of the bells, high upin the massive tower; by the universal gravity, mystery, decay, andsilence. Without, by the old environing Cathedral-close, with itsred-brick houses and staid gardens; by the same stained glass, so darkon that side though so bright within; by the pavement ofhalf-obliterated tombstones; by the long echoes of the visitors'footsteps; by the wicket-gate, that seems to shut the moving world outof that retirement; by the grave rooks and jackdaws that have builttheir nests in steeple crevices, where the after-hum of the chimesreminds them, perhaps, of the wind among the boughs of lofty trees; bythe ancient scraps of palace and gateway; by the ivy again, that hasgrown to be so thick and strong; by the oak, famous in all that part,which has struck its mighty root through the Bishop's wall; by theCathedral organ, whose sound fills all that space, and all the space itopens in the charmed imagination.

  There may be flaws in this whole, if it be examined, too closely. It maynot be improved by the contemplation of the shivering choristers on awinter morning, huddling on their gowns as they drowsily go to scamperthrough their work; by the drawling voice, without a heart, thatdrearily pursues the dull routine; by the avaricious functionary wholays aside the silver mace to take the silver pieces, and who racesthrough the Show as if he were the hero of a sporting wager. Someuncomfortable doubts may, under special circumstances, obtrudethemselves, of the practical Christianity of the head of some particularFoundation. He may be a brawler, or a proud man, or a sleek, or anartful. He may be usually silent, in the House of Lords when a Christianminister should speak, and may make a point of speaking when he shouldbe silent. He may even be oblivious of the truth; a stickler by theletter, not the spirit, for his own purposes; a pettifogger in thesupreme court of GOD'S high law, as there are pettifoggers in the lowercourts administering the laws of mortal man. Disturbing recollectionsmay arise, of a few isolated cases here and there, where country curateswith small incomes and large families, poor gentlemen and scholars, arecondemned to work, like blind horses in a mill, while others who do notwork get their rightful pay; or of the inconsistency and indecorum ofthe Church being made a Robe and Candlestick question, while so manyshining lights are hidden under bushels, and so many black-cloth coatsare threadbare. The question may present itself, by remote chance,whether some shovel-hats be not made too much on the model of thebanker's shovel with which the gold is gathered on the counter, and toolittle in remembrance of that other kind of shovel that renders ashesunto ashes, and dust to dust. But, on the whole, the visitor willprobably be content to say, "the time was, and this old Cathedral sawit, when these things were infinitely worse; they will be better; I willdo all honor to the good that is in them, (which is much), and I will dowhat in me lies for the speedier amendment of the bad."

  In this conclusion, we think the visitor of the old Cathedral would beright. But, it is important to bring to the knowledge of all visitors ofold Cathedrals in England, and of all who stay at home too, the mostgigantic and least known abuse, attaching to those establishments. It isone which affects, not only the history and learning of the country, andthat powerfully, but the legal rights and titles of all classes--ofevery man, woman, and child, rich and poor, great and small, born intothis English portion of this breathing world.

  For the purpose of the object on which we now enter, we have consulted agreat mass of documents, and have had recourse to the personalexperience of a gentleman who has made this kind of research hisbusiness. In every statement we make, we shall speak by the card, thatequivocation may not undo us. The proof of every assertion, is ready toour hand.

  The public have lately heard some trifling facts relative to Doctors'Commons, through the medium of a young gentleman who was articled, byhis aunt, to a proctor there. Our readers may possibly be prepared tohear that the Registry of the Diocese of Canterbury, in which aredeposited all the wills proved in that large, rich, and populousdistrict, is a job so enormous as to be almost incredible. That theRegistrars, with deputies, and deputies' deputies, are sinecurists offrom sixteen to seventeen thousand pounds, to seven or eight thousandpounds, a-year; that the wills are not even kept secure from fire; thatthe real working men are miserably paid out of the rich plunder of thepublic; that the whole system is one of greed, corruption, andabsurdity, from beginning to end. It is not, however, with the Registryof Canterbury that our business lies at present, but with the Registriesand Peculiars of other dioceses, which are attached to the oldCathedrals throughout Great Britain, and of which our readers may be byno means prepared to hear what we shall have to tell.

  Let us begin by setting forth from London on a little suppositiousexcursion--say with Mr. William Wallace, of the Middle Temple and theRoyal Society of Antiquaries.

  Mr. William Wallace, for the purpose of a literary pursuit in which heis engaged, involving the gratification of a taste he has for thehistory of old manners and old families, is desirous, at his own propercost and charge, to search the registers in some Cathedral towns, forwills and records. Having heard whispers of corruption in thesedepartments, and difficulty of search, Mr. Wallace arms himself withletters from the Bishops of those places. Putting money in his pursebesides, he goes down, pretty confidently.

  Mr. William Wallace arrives at Cathedral number one; and, after beingextremely affected, despite a heavy shower of rain, by the contemplationof the building, inquires for the Registrar. He is shown a very handsomehouse in the Cathedral-close--a house very superior to theBishop's--wherein the Registrar resides. For, the Registrar keeps afirst rate roof over his own head, though he keeps his deeds in adilapidated Gate-house; at which he takes toll to the amount of seventhousand a-year; and where, as at other toll-houses, "no trust" is therule; for he exacts his fees beforehand.

  Mr. William Wallace now learns that, locally, the Registrar is a personof almost inordinate power; besides his seven thousand-pound-per-annumplace, he is Chapter Clerk, Town Clerk, Clerk to the Magistrates--aProctor, moreover, in boundless practice. He lives in great state; hekeeps horses, carriages, dogs, and a yacht; he is--could he be anythingelse?--a staunch tory; he generally proposes the tory members for thecounty, and has been known to pay the entire electioneering expenses ofa favorite tory candidate. Mr. Wallace, although fortified with a letterbearing the mitred seal of the Bishop of the diocese, feels that he isabout to come in contact with a great power; an awful something that isnot to be trifled with; one of the noblest institutions of our land, whois a very Miller of Dee, and accountable to nobody.

  With a due sense of the importance of this outside buttress of theChurch, Mr. Wallace presents himself with the Bishop's letter. TheRegistrar storms, and takes it extremel
y ill. He appears to confound Mr.Wallace with his own foot-boy. He says the Bishop has no power tointerfere with _him_, and he won't endure it. He says the Bishop don'tknow what harm may come of showing wills. He can't make out, what peoplewant to see wills for. He grudgingly concedes some obstructed search, onthe usual terms; namely, two guineas per day for all the days aclerk--not fond of any sort of fatigue--may choose to take in making anyparticular search. "But perhaps you will allow me to look at theindexes?" asks Mr. Wallace. "_That's_ of no use," is the reply, "for agreat many of the years are missing; and in those we have got, a greatmany wills are not entered. We often have to spend two months in findinga will." Our friend then performs a little mental arithmetic:--twomonths--or, even say fifty days--means one hundred guineas, to ferretout one will. Complete indexes would only occasion ten minutes' search,equal to one day, or, according to the Registrar's tariff, two guineas.Mr. Wallace then draws the inevitable conclusion, that bad indexespartly occasion the inordinate income of the Registrar, whose manifestinterest it is to keep them as imperfect as possible. One little traitof the very early volumes (the earliest wills are dated A. D. 1180,) isas quaint, as it is productive to the Registrar: the names of thetestators are arranged--alphabetically, it is true--but under theChristian instead of the Surnames. Imagine the number of days, orcouples of guineas, that would drop into the Registrar's coffers, forpicking out one particular John Smith from the thousands of "Johns,"under the letter "J!" Since the year 1800, the index is better: indeedit is almost as available as the old catalogues of the British Museum,though not quite so perfect.

  All this was despair to Mr. William Wallace, who modestly hinted thathis archaeological necessities pressed him to ask admission to the actualdepository of the wills. The Registrar was petrified with astonishment.His figure expanded with a burst of indignation, which presentlyexploded in the interrogative interjection, "What?" that went off, likethe sharp crack of a rifle.

  What? Exhibit, to any living soul, the dilapidative neglect, the hideousdisorder, the wilful destruction of documents, involving the transfer ofthe property, personal and landed, of seven counties; and which he, theRegistrar, obtains seven thousand pounds per annum for preservingcarefully, and arranging diligently! Why, only last year theArchaeological Institute of Great Britain, itself, was peremptorilyrefused admission; and was it likely that the Registrar would allow Mr.William Wallace--the friend of a mere Bishop--to be turned loose, tobrowse at will upon the waste the Registrar and his predecessors hadcommitted and permitted?

  But what will not an enthusiastic antiquary dare, in his loved pursuit?Mr. Wallace was bold enough to hint that a Bishop had perhaps some powerin his diocese--even over a Registrar. This appeared in a degree to lullthe tempest; and after all storms there is a calm. The Registrarreflected. There was nothing very formidable in the applicant'sappearance; he had not the hungry look of a legacy or pedigree hunter--afoolish young fellow, perhaps, with a twist about old manners andcustoms: and, in short, he _may_ take a look at the repositories.

  Up a narrow stair, under the guidance of a grumpy clerk, our perseveringMiddle Templar wends. In a long room, over the arches of the gateway, hesees parallel rows of shelves laden with wills: not tied up in bundles,not docketed, not protected in any way from dust or spiders by theflimsiest covering. Only the modern wills are bound up; but--not toencroach upon the Registrar's hard earnings--the backings of thebindings are composed of such original wills as were written onparchment. These are regularly cut up--that is, wilfully destroyed--forbookbinding purposes!

  Mr. Wallace sees, at a glance, that he may as well try to find a lostshell on a sea-shore, or a needle in a haystack, as attempt to discoverwhat he is desirous of picking out of this documentary chaos. He looksround in mute grief; his archaic heart is heavy; he understands,exactly, how Rienzi felt amidst the Ruins of Rome, or the daughters ofJerusalem when they wept. Wherever he turns his eyes, he sees black,barbarous Ruin. In one corner, he observes decayed boxes filled withrotten wills; in another, stands a basket, containing several lumps ofmediaeval mortar, and a few brick-bats of the early pointed style--theedges, possibly, of some hole in the wall too large for even poor seventhousand a-year to shirk the stopping of. Despite the hints of the clerkthat his time is valuable, Mr. Wallace is contemplating these relicswith the eager gaze of an F.S.A., when he descries, hanging over theedge of the basket, something like an ancient seal. He scrutinizes itintensely--there is a document attached to it. He rescues it from therubbish.

  "What can this be?" asks Mr. Wallace with glistening eye.

  "Oh!" answers the clerk, with listless indifference, "nothing of anyconsequence, _I'm_ sure."

  By this time, Mr. Wallace has found out that this "nothing of anyconsequence," is a Charter of King William the Conqueror; _the identicalinstrument by which the See of Dorchester was transferred toLincoln_--that's all! The broken seal is not of "much consequence"either. Oh, no!

  Now it happens that there is only one impression of the great seal ofthe Great Norman extant, and that is in the British Museum, broken inhalf; this, being a counterpart, supplies the entire seal! Such is thepriceless historical relic found in the year 1850, by chance, in alime-basket, in the very place where it ought to have been as zealouslypreserved as if it had been the jewel of a diadem!

  But, other treasures--equally of "no consequence," and about to becarried off by bricklayers' laborers, to where rubbish may be shot--aredug out by Mr. William Wallace:--Item, a bundle of pardons from KingJohn to certain barons and bishops: Item, a Confession of the ProtestantFaith made on his death-bed by Archbishop Toby Matthew, hithertosupposed by his biographers to have died a Catholic: Item, acontemporary poem on the Battle of Bosworth. The Registrar's clerk is ofopinion, when these are shown to him, that "they an't worth much," butgrowlingly saves them, on remonstrance, and bundles them into his desk;where we trust they still remain; and whence we hope they may be rescuedby the proper authorities.

  As Mr. Wallace follows his surly guide up the stairs of the Gate-house,the rain patters sharply against the casements, and a fusty, damp odoremerges from the upper story. Under a broken roof, and a ceiling beingunplastered in huge patches by time and rain, in the top room, lie--or,more correctly, rot--the wills of the Archdeaconry of Blowe; a"Peculiar" of the diocese. The papers below stairs are merelyworm-eaten, spider-woven, dusty, ill-arranged; but, compared with thosewhich Mr. Wallace now sees--and smells--are in fastidious glass-caseorder. After dodging the rain-drops which filter through the ceiling,down among the solemn injunctions of the dead, Mr. Wallace is able toexamine one or two bundles. Mildew and rot are so omnipotent in thisdamp depository, that the shelves have, in some places, broken andcrumbled away. A moment's comparison between the relative powers of woodand paper, in resisting water, will give a vivid idea of the conditionof the wills in this Archdiaconal shower-bath. The comers of most of thepiles are as thoroughly rounded off, as if a populous colony of waterrats (the ordinary species could not have existed there) had been diningoff them since the days of King Stephen. Others are testamentaryagglomerations, soddened into pulp,--totally illegible and inseparable;having been converted by age, much rain, and inordinate neglect, into_post-mortem_ papier mache.

  All these, are original wills: no such copies of them--which Registrarsare enjoined to provide--having been made by the predecessors of thepresent pluralist. In order that the durability of parchment should beof no avail in arresting the most complete destruction within the scopeof possibility, it is the sheepskin testaments of this collection thatare regularly shredded to bind up the modern wills ranged in booksbelow.

  The very sight of this place, shows the futility of anything likeresearch. Mr. Wallace examines a few of the documents, only to see theirextreme historical as well as local importance; turns away; and descendsthe stairs.

  "Thus, then," says Mr. William Wallace solemnly, as he takes a partinglook at the ancient Gate-house, "are documents, involving the personaland real property of Seven English Counties, allowed to
crumble todestruction; thus, is ruin brought on families by needless litigation;thus, do Registrars roll in carriages, and Proctors grow rich; thus, arethe historical records of the great English nation doomed--by an officerwhom the nation pays the income of a prince to be their conservator--torottenness, mildew, and dust."

  Mr. Wallace having added nothing to the object of his pursuits andinquiries, in the Registry of this Cathedral number one, departed atonce for Cathedral number two. How he fared there, the reader shall soonlearn.

  CATHEDRAL NUMBER TWO.

  Mr. William Wallace, having taken some repose in the bosom of hisfamily, and having recruited his nervous system, impaired for the momentby the formidable demonstrations made in unimpeachable EcclesiasticalRegistry number one, resolved on making a visit to unimpeachableEcclesiastical Registry number two; upheld by the consideration that,although an Ecclesiastical Registry is a fine Institution, for which anyEnglishman would willingly die; and without which he could, in nopatriotic acceptation worth mentioning, be an Englishman at all; still,that the last wills and testaments of Englishmen are not exactlywaste-paper, and that their depositaries ought, perhaps to be kept asdry--say as skittle grounds, which are a cheaper luxury than Registries,with the further advantage that no man need frequent them unless helikes: whereas, to Registries he _must_ go.

  The literary object which Mr. Wallace had in view, in this secondexpedition, beckoned him to the North of England. "Indeed," said Mr.Wallace, pausing. "Possibly, to the second city of England; anArchbishopric; giving one of the princes of the blood his title;enjoying the dignity of a Lord Mayor of its own; an ancient and notableplace; renowned for its antiquities; famous for its Cathedral;possessing walls, four gates, six posterns, a castle, an assembly-room,and a Mansion House; this is surely the place for an unimpeachableRegistry!"

  He arrived at the venerable city of his purpose, at ten minutes pastthree P. M., according to Greenwich, or at three-ten, according toBradshaw.

  Our traveler's first proceeding, was, to take a walk round the walls,and gratify his fancy with a bird's-eye-view of the unimpeachableregistry. He could hardly hit upon the roof of that important building.There was a building in a severe style of architecture--but it was thejail. There was another that looked commodious--but it was the mansionhouse. There were others that looked comfortable--but they were privateresidences. There appeared to be nothing in the way of Registry,answering to the famous monkish legend in a certain Chapter-House:

  As shines the rose above all common flowers, So above common piles this building towers.

  Yet such a building must be somewhere! Mr. Wallace went into the townand bought a Guide-book, to find out where.

  He walked through the quiet narrow streets, with their gabled houses,craning their necks across the road to pry into one another's affairs;and he saw the churches where the people were married; and thehabitations where the doctors lived, who were knocked up when the peoplewere born; and he accidentally passed the residence of Mrs. Pitcher, wholikewise officiated on those occasions; and he remarked an infinity ofshops where every commodity of life was sold. He saw the offices of thelawyers who made the people's wills, the banks where the people kepttheir money, the shops of the undertakers who made the people's coffins,the church-yards where the people were buried, but _not_ the Registrywhere the people's wills were taken care of. "Very extraordinary!" saidMr. Wallace. "In the great city of a great ecclesiastical see, where allkinds of moving reverses and disasters have been occurring for manycenturies, where all manner of old foundation and usage, piety, andsuperstition, were, and a great deal of modern wealth is, a veryinteresting and an unimpeachable Registry there must be, somewhere!"

  In search of this great public edifice, the indefatigable Mr. Wallaceprowled through the city. He discovered many mansions; but he _couldnot_ satisfy himself about the Registry.

  The uneasiness of Mr. Wallace's mind increasing with the growth of hissuspicion that there must surely be a flaw in the old adage, and thatwhere there was a will (and a great many wills) there was no way at all,he betook himself to the Cathedral-close. Passing down an uncommonlypure, clean, tidy little street, where the houses looked like a tastefulsort of missionary-subscription-boxes, into which subscribers of alarger growth were expected to drop their money down the chimneys, hecame by a turnstile, into that haven of rest, and looked about him.

  "Do you know where the Registry is?" he asked a farmer-looking man.

  "The wa'at!" said he.

  "The Registry; where they keep the wills?"

  "A'dinnot know for shower," said the farmer, looking round. "Ding! If Ishouldn't wondther if _thot_ wur it!"

  Mr. Wallace concealed his disparaging appreciation of the farmer'sjudgment, when he pointed with his ash-stick to a kind of shed--such asis usually called a lean-to--squeezing itself, as if it were (with verygood reason) ashamed, into the south-west corner of the cross, which theground-plan of the cathedral forms, and sticking to it like a dirtylittle pimple. But, what was his dismay, on going thither to inquire, todiscover that this actually WAS the unimpeachable Registry; and that aconfined den within, which would have made an indifferent chandler'sshop, with a pestilent little chimney in it, filling it with smoke likea Lapland hut, was the "Searching Office."

  Mr. Wallace was soon taught that seven thousand pounds per annum is,after all, but a poor pittance for the Registrar of a simple bishopric,when calculated by the ecclesiastical rule of three; for the registry ofCathedral number two, produces to its fortunate patentees twentythousand per annum; about ten thousand a year for the Registrar who doesnothing, and the like amount for his Deputy who helps him.

  The portentous personage to whom Mr. Wallace was accredited, receivedhim in state in the small office surrounded by a Surrogate (apparentlyretained on purpose to cross-examine Mr. Wallace) and the clerks. Mr.Wallace mentioned that he believed the Archbishop had written to theDeputy-Registrar to afford him every facility in consulting thedocuments under his charge. The Deputy Registrar owned that theArchbishop had done so, but declared that the Archbishop had nojurisdiction whatever over him; and, claiming as he did, completeimmunity from, and irresponsibility to, all human control, he begged tosay that his Grace the Archbishop, in presuming to write to thehigh-authorities of that unimpeachable Registry on such a subject, hadtaken a very great liberty. Mr. William Wallace inquired if that was tobe the answer he was expected to convey to the Archbishop? bowed, andwas about to retire, when the awful Deputy recalled him. What did hewant to search for? Mr. Wallace repeated that his object was whollyliterary and archaeological. The chief clerk who here came in as areinforcement, was so good as to intimate that he "didn't believe a wordof it." Whereupon a strong opinion was added that Mr. Wallace wantedsurreptitiously to obtain pedigrees, and to consult wills. A powerfulbattery of cross-questionings was then opened by the heavierauthorities, aided by a few shots from the light-bob, or skirmishingparty--the clerk. But had Mr. William Wallace been his great ancestor,he could not have held his position against such odds more firmly. Atlength the preliminaries of a treaty were proposed by the enemy, theterms of which were that Mr. Wallace should be allowed to consult anyrecords dated before the year one thousand four hundred! This wasdemured to as utterly useless. Negotiations were then resumed, and theauthorities liberally threw in another century, out of the fullness of arespect for the Archbishop, which they had refrained from condescendingto express;--Mr. Wallace might consult documents up to the year fifteenhundred.

  With this munificent concession, Mr. Wallace was obliged to besatisfied, and proceeded to venture on another stipulation:--

  The researches which he had proposed to himself at this Cathedral numbertwo, were elaborate and complicated; they would require such facilitiesas had been asked on his behalf by the Archbishop. Could he have accessto the documents themselves?

  The effect which this simple request produced in the office, wasprodigious! A small schoolboy who should, at dinner, ask for a piece ofthe master's apple-pie; or a dru
mmer on parade, who should solicit fromhis captain a loan of five shillings, could not produce a more sublimedegree of astonishment, than that which glared through the smoke fromthe faces of the deputy-registrar, the surrogate, the chief clerk, andall the junior clerks, then and there assembled. The effect producedamounted to temporary petrefaction; the principals neither spoke normoved; the subordinates left off writing and poking the fire. Sosuperlative was the audacity of the request, that it paralyzed thependulum of that small, rusty, dusty, smoky old ecclesiastical clock,and stopped the works!

  Refusal in words was not vouchsafed to Mr. William Wallace; neither didhe need that condescension. The silent but expressive pantomine wasenough. As the Eastern culprit receives his doom by the speechlessgesture of the judge's hand across his own neck; so Mr. William Wallacefully understood that, access to the record depositories of the provinceappertaining to Cathedral number two, was nearly equivalent to gettinginto a freemason's lodge after it has been "tiled," or to obtainingadmission to St. Paul's cathedral without two-pence.

  He therefore waved as perfectly impossible that item of the treaty. Forthe public, however, the evidence of that gentleman is hardly necessaryto bring them acquainted with the manner in which the trust imposed onthe Registrar and his Deputy is performed; for while the DeputyRegistrar and Mr. William Wallace are settling their differences overthe next clause of their treaty, we shall dip into the reports of theEcclesiastical Commission issued in 1832, to show what the state ofthings was at that time; and to any one who can prove that thosevenerable documents have been by any means rescued from decay since thatyear, the public will doubtless be much obliged. At page one hundred andseventy of the report, Mr. Edward Protheroe, M.P., states, on oath, thatin the instance of every Court he had visited the records suffered moreor less from damp and the accumulation of dust and dirt. Then, speakingof the Registry of this same Cathedral number two, he declares itsdocuments to have been in a scandalous state. "I found them," hecontinues, "perfectly to accord with the description I had received fromvarious literary and antiquarian characters who had occasion to makesearches in the office; and I beg leave to remark that the place musthave been always totally inadequate as a place of deposit for therecords, both as to space and security." Some of the writings he foundin two small cells, "in a state of the most disgraceful filth;" othersin "two apertures in the thick walls, scarcely to be called windows; andthe only accommodation for these records are loose wooden shelves, uponwhich the wills are arranged in bundles, tied up with common strings,and without any covering to them; exposed to the effect of the damp ofthe weather and the necessary accumulation of dirt." To theseunprotected wills the Deputy Registrar was perhaps wise in hisgeneration to deny access; for Mr. Protheroe says in addition that, "ifit was the object of any person to purloin a will, such a thing might beaccomplished." Perfectly and safely accessible copies might be made, at"an expense quite trifling." What? Mr. Protheroe, would you rob thesepoor Registrars of a shilling of their hard earnings, just to savelanded and other property, of some millions value, from litigation andfraud? Would you discount their twenty thousand a year by even afraction per cent?

  The clause of the treaty, offensive and defensive, which was beingnegotiated all this while, between the Deputy Registrar and his visitor,was drawn up by the former in these concise words, "How long do you wantto be here?"

  That, Mr. Wallace replied, would depend upon the facilities affordedhim, the condition of the calendars and indexes, and the assistance hemight be allowed to call in. After much battling, the conference endedby Mr. William Wallace, and a friend who accompanied him, being allowedto set to work upon the calendars of such wills as had been depositedbefore the year 1500.

  The two antiquaries would have commenced their researches immediately;only, on examining their dress, they found it in such a state of filthfrom the smoke with which the office had been filled during thearrangement of this important compact, that they were obliged to returnto the hotel to change their linen. The prospect of spending a week insuch a place was not altogether agreeable. Mr. Wallace did not enjoythe notion of being smoke-dried; and of returning to the Middle Temple asort of animated ham. A sojourn in the place was not to be thought ofwithout terror; yet the poor clerks endured their smoking fate withfortitude. Use was to them a second nature; and every man connected withthese Registries must be completely inured to dust. But the man of theMiddle Temple was a kind of knight-errant in the matter of rescuingancient documents from their tombs of filth; and not to be daunted. Heand his friend opened the campaign directly in the face of the enemy'sfire--which, so great was their ardor, they only wished would become alittle more brisk and less smoky.

  That day and the next day they bored on with patience and perseverancethrough every obstacle. When they found in the calendar a reference towhat they wanted, every possible obstacle was thrown in their way. Therequired document was either lost, or had been stolen, or had strayed.Nor was there the slightest reason to doubt that this was true. It waswell known to the searchers that one class of documents at least hadbeen actually made away with by a former Deputy Registrar. Dr. Thelwall,of Newcastle, wrote in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1819, page fourhundred and ninety:--"It is a fact well known that, by a Canon of Jamesthe First, the clergyman of every parish was required to send a copy ofthe Register annually to the Bishop of the Diocese. The most shamefulnegligence is attributable to the person (the Deputy Registrar) in whosekeeping they have been placed. Indeed I have some reason to supposethis, as I lately saw in the possession of a friend, a great number ofextracts from the Register of a certain parish in this neighborhood,and, on questioning him as to the way in which he became possessed ofthem, I was informed they were given to him by his cheesemonger, andthat they were copies forwarded by the clergyman of the parish to theproper officer in a bordering diocese, and had been allowed through thenegligence of their keeper to obtain the distinguished honor of wrappingup cheese and bacon."

  The sale of Records, for waste paper, was the mode adopted to revengethe meanness of the legislature, in not providing the under-paidRegistrars with remuneration for this addition to their duties. Was itpossible to keep life and soul together upon the ten or fifteen thousandsterling per annum which these two poor fellows were then obliged tostarve upon? Certainly not! Therefore, to eke out a wretched existence,they found themselves driven to sell the property of the public, if notfor the necessaries, for the luxuries, of life. They had, perhaps,managed to keep their families, by a rigid, pinching economy inbread--dry bread; but to butter it; to indulge themselves with theproper diet of even Church mice, they were obliged to dispose ofpaper--worth, perhaps, thousands and thousands of pounds to the partieswhose names were inscribed on it--at a few pence per pound, to thecheesemonger.

  From this doom of some of the parochial records of the province, Mr.William Wallace inferred the degree of care and exactitude with whichthe wills were kept. Previous knowledge had prepared him for it; but hewas not prepared to find that _the whole_ of another and most importantclass of records, up to a comparatively late date, had been abstracted,in the lump, from the Registry of this Cathedral number two. The casewas this:--

  In the course of his investigations, it was necessary for him to referto a "marriage allegation,"--that is, a copy of the statement made by abridegroom previous to converting himself, by the help of the Bishop'slicense, into a husband. He then learnt that most of such documents arethe "private property" of one of the clerks, who kept them in his ownprivate house; that he had bought them of a deceased member of theHerald's College, and that for each search into them he chargedaccording to a sliding scale, arranged according to the station of theapplicant, the maximum of which was five pounds for the simple search,and five pounds more if what the party wanted were found. The English ofthis is, that the present custodier of these papers purchased of a deadHerald what did not belong to him; and what there could have been nodifficulty whatever in restoring to the true owner; (because no onecould have known better tha
n the purchaser that they were publicproperty); and that their proper place was not his private house, butthe provincial Registry. The produce of this abstraction is an illegalincome better possibly than the legal gains of an Admiral or aGovernment Commissioner; double that of a physician in good practice, orof a philanthropist in easy circumstances,--and treble that of our bestdramatist, or our best poet.

  Besides these hindrances, which could not be helped, a certain number ofwilful obstructions were thrown in the way of our inquiring friends,because they had been desired by the Archbishop to be placed on the feefree-list. They were watched by the entire office; for it became Argusfor the occasion. Remarks of a satirical character were dischargedpoint-blank from behind the desks, whenever a good opening occurred. Thenon-paying searchers were "in the way"--(this was true, so unfit is theapartment for public accommodation); "what people got they ought to payfor, as other people did." Spies slid silently out from behind theramparts, or desks, to look over their shoulders, and to see that theydid not purloin any information posterior to the fifteenth century.

  Mr. William Wallace stood all this manfully; but his ally was obliged toretire at the expiration of the second day. Mr. William Wallace atlength found he could not advance the objects of his inquiries any moreefficiently at this Cathedral number two, than he had advanced them atCathedral number one; so, at the end of a week, he beat a dignifiedretreat with all the honors of war. He then turned his face towards theunimpeachable Registry of Cathedral number three, hoping for bettersuccess.

  CATHEDRAL NUMBER THREE.

  The core of the inquiry which Mr. William Wallace had a heart, layimbedded in the depositories of unimpeachable Ecclesiastical Registrynumber three. To the city of that See he therefore repaired, warmed bythat flaming zeal which only burns in the breast of an earnestantiquary, and which no amount of disappointment can quench. Thoughsanguine, even for an antiquity-hunter, the hopes which rebounded fromhis previous failures, sunk within him, when he remembered that whereashe was in former instances fortified with letters of recommendation--almostof command--from the Bishops of each Diocese; on this occasion, he hadto fight single-handed, (like another St. George,) the dragons that"guarded" the treasures he sought. He had no better introduction to thethird Deputy-Registrar than an honest purpose; and, his formerexperience taught him that that was about as unpromising an usher intosuch a Presence as could be imagined. Mr. Wallace therefore commencedthis new attack with no strong presentiment of success.

  Strengthened with an ally, in the person of a friendly attorney, Mr.William Wallace marched boldly to the great functionary's house, asplendid edifice in the Cathedral Close, with thirty-three windows infront, extensive grounds behind, detached stables and a tastefulboat-house at the edge of what is here called the "Minster Pool."

  Into this great house of a great man, Mr. William Wallace was ushered byhis friend. Nothing could exceed the obsequiousness of the man of law,and great was the civility of the man of wills. The interview was goingon pleasantly and the antiquary was beginning to believe that at last hehad found a pattern Deputy-Registrar, when the lawyer happened tomention that Mr. William Wallace was a literary man. Mr. Wallace feltthat this would be fatal--and it was so. He knew the condign contemptEcclesiastical Registrars entertained for the literary world, from thelittle circumstance of hearing only the week before in another Registry,the most eminent historian of the present day, and our best archaictopographer, designated as "contemptible penny-a-liners." Mr. Wallacewas therefore not at all astonished when the Deputy-Registrar folded uphis smiling countenance into a frown. He evidently knew what was coming.Literary men never pay, and Mr. William Wallace wanted to consult "his"registers gratis.

  When this shrewd surmise was, by a word from the attorney, realized, theRegistrar struggled hard to smoothe his face again to a condition ofbland composure; but in vain. The wound which had pierced through hispocket, rankled within. The depravity of literary people in endeavoringto dig and delve for historical information without paying for theprivilege of benefitting the public by their researches, was _too_abominable! The Registrar was so good as to say that he would grant Mr.Wallace the privilege of consulting any wills he pleased--on the usualterms: namely, two shillings and sixpence for every document.

  With this condescending permission (which placed Mr. Wallace on exactlythe same footing as the great body of the public which had not doneitself the honor of visiting the Deputy-Registrar) he repaired to theSearching Office. The point he had set himself to ascertain at thisCathedral Registry number three, hinged upon an authentic attestation ofthe decease of the father of a distinguished general under Charles theFirst. The name was a very common one in the diocese, and of coursecontinually occurred in the index. Will after will was produced by theclerks; half-crown after half-crown fell glibly out of Mr. Wallace'spocket. Still no success. This proved an expensive day. Mr. Wallace hadhad to pay, in the course of it, twenty-five pounds; although he was notallowed, as at the other places, to make a single extract.

  The income of the office even of Deputy Registrar sometimes admits ofthe maintenance of from six to a dozen race-horses, but the expense ofcompiling paper calendars could never be tolerated. To make indexes ofwills that have never been catalogued would be quite out of thequestion; for the Registrar charges his clients for the _time_ of hisclerks in making searches, and it was owned to Mr. Wallace that it wouldtake a year (at from one to two guineas per day) to find any will datedbefore the year 1526.

  The searching office of this Registry was, like the others,inconvenient, small, and often crowded. The policy of the clerks was,therefore, to despatch the inquirers as fast as possible, so as toensure a rapid change of visitors and a streaming influx of half-crowns.On the second day of Mr. Wallace's search the trouble he had given onthe previous day for his money was intelligibly hinted to him. He wasbroadly told that he was "very much in the way;" for room was so muchrequired that some applicants were plainly told that they must "comeagain to-morrow." To others who had not their inquiries ready cut anddried, in a business form, and who threatened long explanationsrespecting testators, a deaf ear was turned, or a pretended search wasmade, and they were told "there was no such will in the place." Apleasant case occurred on the second morning. An illiterate laborertried to make the officials understand that an uncle of his wife had, hehad heard, left him a legacy, and "he wanted to know the rights o' it."He gave the name and the exact date of the death, and a clerk retiredunder pretence of searching for the document. In a very short time hereturned with--

  "No such will in the place--half-a-crown, please."

  "Half-a-croone?" said the countryman, "Wat vor?"

  "Half-a-crown!" repeated the clerk.

  "Wat, vor telling me nought?"

  "Half-a-crown!" was again let off with a loud explosion, over the stiffembrasure of white cravat.

  "But darn me if oi pay't," persisted the expectant legatee.

  "Half-a-crown!"

  The countryman went on raising a storm in the office, in midst of whichthe "Half-a-crown!" minute guns were discharged with severe regularity.At length, however, the agriculturist was obliged to succumb, and aftera mighty effort to disinter the coin from under a smock-frock, and outof the depths of a huge pocket and a leather purse, the poor man wasobliged to produce and pay over what was probably a fifth of his week'searnings.

  This circumstance having attracted Mr. Wallace's attention and pity, hetook a note of the name of the testator; and, after the inquirer hadleft, found it in the Calendar, and by-and-by, by dint of a littlemanoeuvring, got a sight of the will. In it he actually found that thepoor man _had_ been left a small legacy.

  Meanwhile Mr. William Wallace had been actively employed in calling forwills and paying out half-crowns. It was quite evident from thecalendars that no greater care was taken of paper and parchment herethan in the other Registries. Several wills entered in it, as havingbeen once in the depository--wherever that was--had against them thewords "wanting" and "lost." That ancient
records should in the course ofcenturies fall aside, cannot be wondered at, even in a Registry, whichproduces at present to its officers from seven to ten thousand perannum; but what excuse can there be for the loss of comparatively modernones? Certain wills were not to be found of the years 1746; 1750; 1753;and 1757.

  Mr. Wallace soon found that in a place where dropping half-crowns intothe till and doing as little as possible in return for them, isconsidered the only legitimate business, he was looked upon even attwenty-five pounds per day as a sort of bad bargain, who required agreat deal too much for his money. They could not coin fast enough byMr. William Wallace, and the Deputy-Registrar indulged the office withhis august presence to inform him, that as he gave so much trouble forthe searches he was making, he must pay, besides two-and-six-pence forevery future search, two guineas per diem for the use of the office!

  It happened that the Bishop of Cathedral number three was then in thecity, officiating at an ordination, and to him Mr. William Wallacedetermined to apply for relief from this extortion. He enclosed to hisLordship his letters from other prelates and stated his case. The answerhe received was the Bishop's _unqualified authority_ to search whereverand for whatever he wanted in the Registers of his Lordship's diocese.

  Although this letter was addressed by the Bishop to the servant ordeputy of _his_ servant, the Registrar, yet Mr. Wallace's dear-boughtsagacity had taught him to place very little faith in a Bishop's powerover his inferiors. As it turned out, he found himself one of those whoare blessed, because, expecting nothing, they are not disappointed. TheDeputy-Registrar received his superior's mandate with supercilious_sang-froid_. The old story--"The Bishop had no jurisdiction whateverover him," but this once, &c. &c.

  Mr. William Wallace had met in Cathedrals numbers one and two, repulsesand rudeness. But each Cerberus who pretended to guard the documentarytreasures of those dioceses, honestly showed his teeth. _They_ had notbeen guilty of deceit. Deputy-Registrar number three was wiser in hisgeneration. He gave a cold assent to the Bishop's mandate in Mr.Wallace's behalf; but with it such wily instructions to his clerks, asrendered it as nugatory as if he had put it in his waste basket or hadlighted his cigar. During the two days that half-crowns rained in silvershowers from the Antiquary's purse, nearly every Will he asked for wasproduced; but now, on the third day, when the Bishop's letter had closedhis purse-strings, Mr. Wallace demanded document after document, and wastold by the "Conservators" of this important kind of public property,that they had "been lost," "could not be found," "mislaid." But the mostfrequent return was, "destroyed at the siege of the City, in the year1643"--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 twopaying 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 ofthe City, in the year 1643," although nearly all the Wills Mr. Wallacewas obliged with a sight of, were dated anterior to that destructiveevent.

  For some explanation Mr. Wallace repaired to the Deputy-Registrar'sabode. It was too late. The clever sub. knew what was coming--andretreated 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 anotherpoint: 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 saidbefore the Ecclesiastical Commission, "I consider the records verydirty; they have not, apparently, been dusted for many years." Theremarkable result of Mr. Wallace's urgent inquiries was that not a soulhe asked could, or would, tell in what place the ecclesiastical recordsof 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 inlistless despair. To find out the secret masses of the records ofCathedral number three was a task Mr. William Wallace had so earnestlyset himself, that next to his domestic relations and his literarylabors, it grew into one of the duties of his existence; therefore, onhis way to Cathedral number four, he paid another visit to the city ofCathedral number three, fortified with letters to some of its clergy. Tobe sure _they_ could clear up the mystery.

  His first application was to one of the Canons. Did he know where theecclesiastical records were kept? Well, it was odd, but it never enteredhis head to inquire. He really did _not_ know. Perhaps some of theChapter officials could tell.

  To one of these, hies Mr. Wallace. Even that functionary--whosecourteousness, together with that of his colleague, was pleasant to theapplicant by the force of mere contrast--was equally unable to revealthe secret. "But surely," he added, "such a place cannot, when one setsabout it, be so impenetrable a mystery. I have an idea that the _Miller_could enlighten you."

  "The Miller?"

  "Yes. He knows everything about the town. Try him."

  Mr. Wallace had business at the searching office, and having transactedit, determined to make another effort in this legitimate quarter. Thefollowing short dialogue occurred between him and the clerk:--"Pray,"said Mr. Wallace, "where are the Wills kept?"

  "That's not your business!" was the answer. Mr. Wallace returned to thecharge but the clerk became deaf, and went on with some writing,precisely as if Mr. William Wallace were invisible and inaudible.

  The Miller was the only resource. He was from home, and his wife gavethe same answer as everybody else had done. "But," she said, pointing toan individual who was sauntering into the Close, "there's one as cantell 'ee. He's a _rachetty_ man--he is." Without waiting to inquire themeaning of this strange expression, off starts the record-hunter uponthe new secret. He runs down his game in no time. It consists of a burlybiped, bearing a cage of fine ferrets. Round his person is displayed thebroad insignia of office,--he is a rat-catcher.

  Here Mr. William Wallace's perseverance triumphs. The Rat-catcher knowsall about it. "Why you see, Sir," he said, "I contracts for theRegistrar."

  "What for?"

  "What for? Why, I catches the rats for him at so much a-year."

  "And where do you catch them?"

  "Where do I catch them? Why, where the old wills is."

  "And where is that?"

  "Where is that? Why, _there_."

  The Rat-catcher points to a sort of barn that rises from the edge of theMinster Pool. It has no windows on the ground-floor. On the first-floorare six--two in the front of the building and four at theend,--twenty-seven windows less than are displayed in the front of theRegistrar's beautifully glazed house; but much of the little glassafforded to the registry is broken. To mend it upon seven thousanda-year would never do, especially when old parchment is lying about inheaps. Why pay glaziers' charges when ancient wills and otherecclesiastical records keep out wind and weather as well as glass?--forlight is a thing rather to be shunned than admitted into such places.Accordingly, as the Rat-catcher points to the shed, Mr. Wallace observesnumberless ends of record rolls and bundles of engrossed testamentspoked into the broken windows: in some places variegated with old rags.

  Judging from the exterior, and from the contract for rat-catching, theinterior of this depository of the titles of hundreds of thousands ofpounds worth of property, must be an archaeological Golgotha, a darkmouldy sepulchre of parchment and dust.

  Lawyers say that there is not an estate in this country with animpregnable title; in other words, it is on the cards in the game ofecclesiastical and common law, for any family to be deprived of theirpossessions in consequence of being unable to establish a perfect titleto them. How can it be otherwise when the very deeds by which they haveand hold what they enjoy, are left to be eaten by rats, or to be stuffedinto broken windows?

  CATHEDRAL NUMBER FOUR. />
  An antiquary cannot approach the city of Chester from London, even in anexpress railway train, without emotions more lively than that class ofobservers generally have credit for. Despite a sensation akin to that ofbeing fired off in a rocket, and a pardonable fancy that the hedges areendless bands of green ribbon in eternal motion, that the houses, andcottages, and churches, and trees, and villages, as they dart past theconfines of the carriage window, are huge missiles shot across fieldswhich are subjected to a rapid dispensation of distorted perspective;yet these mighty evidences of the Present do not dull his mind to thePast. He remembers, with wonder, that two thousand years ago, it wasover this identical line of country that the legions of Suetonius laggedalong after they had blunted the scythes of Boadicea, routed her hordes,and driven her to suicide.

  We will not say that our own fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, Mr.William Wallace, retrojected his imagination so far into the past whilecrossing the Chester platform with his carpet-bag, because we are led tobelieve, from his report to us, that his views were immediately directedto the more modern times of St. Werburgh, who founded the Abbey ofChester (once the most splendid in England); seeing that it is in thestill-standing gateway of that obsolete establishment, that the objectsof Mr. Wallace's especial solicitude are now, and always have beendeposited, since Henry the Eighth erected Chester into a diocese.

  His hopes of success in seeking out certain facts from the testamentaryrecords of this see, were more slender than they had been while enteringupon his errand at the other three cathedrals. He had written to thebishop for that permission to search which had been by other prelates soreadily granted, but which had been rendered by the respectiveRegistrars so utterly nugatory, and had received no answer. Awkwardreminiscences of the state of this Registry, as disclosed before thelast Parliamentary Committee on the Ecclesiastical Courts, fell like adark shadow over his hopes. Up to the year 1832, the gateway where thewills are kept was, upon the Deputy Registrar's own showing, neither"fire-proof, sufficiently large, nor absolutely free from plunder." Thesearching-office was a part of the gateway; and was as inadequate asother searching offices. The Chief Registrar in 1837 was a sinecurist inthe _seventieth_ year of office, and was verging towards the hundredthof his age; having received, in his time, not less than three hundredand fifty thousand pounds of the public money for doing nothing. Thefees for searches and extracts were heavy, and nobody was allowed, as inmost other Registries, to see how the wills were kept.

  Such were the gloomy prepossessions of Mr. William Wallace, as heapproached the archway which held the testamentary treasures of DioceseNumber Four. He sought the searching office in vain, and at length wasfain to address himself to the first passenger--a burly blacksmith--who,at once, in answer to his inquiry, pointed to a handsome new stonebuilding, that stood within the Abbey Square.

  Mr. William Wallace ascended the steps doubtingly; and when he foundhimself in the wide passage of an evidently well-planned publicoffice--so contrary was the whole aspect of the place to hispreconceptions of it, and to his previous experience of otherecclesiastical Registries--that he would have retired, had not thewords, "Searching Office," as plain as paint and capitals could makethem, stared him full in the face from a door on his right. This heboldly opened, and beheld a handsome apartment, so mounted with desks,counters, and every appurtenance for public convenience, as to put himin mind of the interior of a flourishing assurance office. "The room,"says Mr. William Wallace, in his report to us, "is furnished with acounter of ample size, extending round it, on which you examine theindexes. On calling for one or two modern wills, the clerks brought me asubstantial, well-bound book, in which he informed me all modern willshave been, since the appointment of the present Registrar, enrolled atlength, in a round text, so distinct and plain, that illiterate personsmight read them; and not engrossed, so as to become a source of revenue,as at Doctor's Commons, where the unlearned, in what is called'court-hand,' are obliged to call in the aid of a clerk, and disburse afee for the wills to be read to them. I was informed that I could seethe originals on giving a satisfactory reason to the Registrar, or, inhis absence, to a principal clerk. So promptly is business done here,that I found the wills which had been received from Manchester and otherplaces that day, had been already indexed--very different to York, wherewills are sometimes not indexed for six or eight months, and,consequently, often not at all. I next inquired for some earlier wills,and stated that I might probably want to have two or three days'research, for a literary purpose. On hearing this, the clerk informed methat the Registrar made no charge under such circumstances, except forthe clerks' time. I then called for about six early wills, and only oneof the six could not be found. Afterwards I asked for the returns ofseveral Parish Registers; each set of which are well and substantiallybound in a separate volume; for this a fee of three shillings andeight-pence is demanded; at York, for the production of a similarquantity of records, fifteen pounds is the price, without clerks' fees;and at Lincoln it would be impossible to collect them at all, manyhaving been used to bind up modern wills, and for other such purposes."

  Mr. William Wallace, pleasingly surprised at the contrast this Registrynumber four presented to others he had visited, and where he had been soegregiously snubbed, determined to learn and see as much respecting itas possible. With this view, he applied, without any other introductionthan his card, to the Registrar; whose excellent custom it was, heunderstood, to be in attendance daily for several hours. At that timehe was examining witnesses in a case for the Ecclesiastical Court, andhanded the card to the bishop's secretary, who was also in officialattendance. "That gentleman," says Mr. Wallace, "immediately came down,and informed me that the Bishop had written to me, in answer to myapplication, two days before, giving me permission to search, atreasonable hours, and that the Registrar, as was his usual custom, hadnot the slightest objection. I then asked to be shown the various partsof the building, the modes of preserving the records, which request wasgranted without the smallest hesitation."

  Our informant then goes on to say that he found the building--which wasraised solely at the expense of the present Registrar, since hisappointment in 1837--conveniently divided into different departmentslike the best of the Government offices,--each department legiblyindicated for the benefit of the inquirer, on the different doors.

  The manner in which the records are preserved at this Cathedral numberfour, is spoken of by our friend with satisfaction. His report to us issilent on rats, wet, mildew, smoke, broken windows, torn testaments, andillegible calendars. "Modern wills," he repeats, "are copied at lengthinto volumes, by the present Registrar, a practice which I regret is notadopted at York, Lincoln, Lichfield, Winchester, and other places I havevisited. If wills of an earlier date than that of the enrolment booksare required to be taken out of the office for production in any Courtof Law, &c., an examined copy made for the purpose, is deposited in itsplace during its temporary removal from the Registry. The principalportion of the wills are deposited in a dry, but not a fire-proofbuilding, in good repair, called the Abbey Gateway; where, during theoffice hours, two clerks are constantly kept at work in copying willsthat come in. These are kept in boxes, arranged upon shelves with justsufficient space to admit them, like drawers; and upon the top of thewills is a sheet of pasteboard fitting the box, as a further protectionfrom dust. The wills are alphabetically arranged in the boxes, which areof uniform size, and contain more or less letters; the first box for1835, for instance, contains the wills of testators whose names commencewith A. or B. The wills of each letter are placed separately, and aredivided into packets of one month each, so that the exact date ofProbate being known, the will is found immediately."

  Before the period of its renovation, the Registry of Chester was asinefficient and exacting as the other three we have described. To whomthe merit of the change and the contrast is really due, is not easily tobe ascertained, although the present incumbent of the office mustnecessarily have the largest share of credit for it. We
suspect,however, that the proximate impetus of the reform can be traced to thegeographical position of the see. It includes the busiest of themanufacturing towns, and the most business-like, practical, andhard-handed examples of the English character. The thorough-goingManchester or Liverpool legatee would not endure, beyond a certain pointand a certain time, the impositions, delays, destructions, and muddlingconfusion of the will offices in the more easy-going districts. Timewith him is cash. What he wants he must have at once, especially if hepays for it. He may be put off once or twice with a rotten, illegibleindex, or a "Come again to-morrow;" but when he once sees that these maybe obviated, he takes care to let there be no delay on his part, andagitates immediately. To engage a Free Trade Hall, and get up a publicmeeting, is with him a matter of no more consideration than scoldinghis clerk, or bringing a creditor to book. He has discredited the maximthat "talking is not doing;" and a constant iteration of pertinentspeeches, ending with stinging "resolutions," has been found to _do_greater feats, to perform much greater wonders than settingecclesiastical registries in order. It is possible, therefore, that thelay authorities of the Chester Registry, having the dread of anuncompromising community before their eyes, saw their safety inrenovation; and, like sensible men, made it, without that whiningsophistication, that grim tenacity, with which abuses are excused andclung to, in exact proportion to their absurdity, profitableness, andinjustice.