So saying, Mr.Oldbuck led the way down the bank, by a steep but secure path, which soon placed them on the verdant meadow where the ruins stood.``There they lived,'' continued the Antiquary, ``with nought to do but to spend their time in investigating points of remote antiquity, transcribing manuscripts, and composing new works for the information of posterity.''
``And,'' added the Baronet, ``in exercising the rites of devotion with a pomp and ceremonial worthy of the office of the priesthood.''
``And if Sir Arthur's excellence will permit,'' said the German, with a low bow, ``the monksh might also make de vary curious experiment in deir laboraties, both in chemistry and _magia naturalis._''
``I think,'' said the clergyman, ``they would have enough to do in collecting the teinds of the parsonage and vicarage of three good parishes.''
``And all,'' added Miss Wardour, nodding to the Antiquary, ``without interruption from womankind.''
``True, my fair foe,'' said Oldbuck; ``this was a paradise where no Eve was admitted, and we may wonder the rather by what chance the good fathers came to lose it.''
With such criticisms on the occupations of those by whom the ruins had been formerly possessed, they wandered for some time from one moss-grown shrine to another, under the guidance of Oldbuck, who explained, with much plausibility, the ground-plan of the edifice, and read and expounded to the company the various mouldering inscriptions which yet were to be traced upon the tombs of the dead, or under the vacant niches of the sainted images.
``What is the reason,'' at length Miss Wardour asked the Antiquary, ``why tradition has preserved to us such meagre accounts of the inmates of these stately edifices, raised with such expense of labour and taste, and whose owners were in their times personages of such awful power and importance? The meanest tower of a freebooting baron or squire who lived by his lance and broadsword, is consecrated by its appropriate legend, and the shepherd will tell you with accuracy the names and feats of its inhabitants;--but ask a countryman concerning these beautiful and extensive remains--these towers, these arches, and buttresses, and shafted windows, reared at such cost,--three words fill up his answer--`they were made up by the monks lang syne.' ''
The question was somewhat puzzling.Sir Arthur looked upward, as if hoping to be inspired with an answer--Oldbuck shoved back his wig--the clergyman was of opinion that his parishioners were too deeply impressed with the true presbyterian doctrine to preserve any records concerning the papistical cumberers of the land, offshoots as they were of the great overshadowing tree of iniquity, whose roots are in the bowels of the seven hills of abomination--Lovel thought the question was best resolved by considering what are the events which leave the deepest impression on the minds of the common people--``These,'' he contended, ``were not such as resemble the gradual progress of a fertilizing river, but the headlong and precipitous fury of some portentous flood.The eras by which the vulgar compute time, have always reference to some period of fear and tribulation, and they date by a tempest, an earthquake, or burst of civil commotion.When such are the facts most alive, in the memory of the common people, we cannot wonder,''
he concluded, ``that the ferocious warrior is remembered, and the peaceful abbots are abandoned to forgetfulness and oblivion.''
``If you pleashe, gentlemans and ladies, and ashking pardon of Sir Arthur and Miss Wardour, and this worthy clergymansh, and my goot friend Mr.Oldenbuck, who is my countrymansh, and of goot young Mr.Lofel also, I think it is all owing to de hand of glory.''
``The hand of what?'' exclaimed Oldbuck.
``De hand of glory, my goot Master Oldenbuck, which is a vary great and terrible secrets--which de monksh used to conceal their treasures when they were triven from their cloisters by what you call de Reform.''
``Ay, indeed! tell us about that,'' said Oldbuck, ``for these are secrets worth knowing.''
``Why, my goot Master Oldenbuck, you will only laugh at me--But de hand of glory is vary well known in de countries where your worthy progenitors did live--and it is hand cut off from a dead man, as has been hanged for murther, and dried very nice in de shmoke of juniper wood; and if you put a little of what you call yew wid your juniper, it will not be any better --that is, it will not be no worse--then you do take something of de fatsh of de bear, and of de badger, and of de great eber, as you call de grand boar, and of de little sucking child as has not been christened (for dat is very essentials), and you do make a candle, and put it into de hand of glory at de proper hour and minute, with de proper ceremonish, and he who seeksh for treasuresh shall never find none at all,''
``I dare take my corporal oath of that conclusion,'' said the Antiquary.``And was it the custom, Mr.Dousterswivel, in Westphalia, to make use of this elegant candelabrum?''
``Alwaysh, Mr.Oldenbuck, when you did not want nobody to talk of nothing you wash doing about--And the monksh alwaysh did this when they did hide their church-plates, and their great chalices, and de rings, wid very preshious shtones and jewels.''
``But, notwithstanding, you knights of the Rosy Cross have means, no doubt, of breaking the spell, and discovering what the poor monks have put themselves to so much trouble to conceal?''
``Ah! goot Mr.Oldenbuck,'' replied the adept, shaking his head mysteriously, ``you was very hard to believe; but if you had seen de great huge pieces of de plate so massive, Sir Arthur, --so fine fashion, Miss Wardour--and de silver cross dat we did find (dat was Schr<oe>pfer and my ownself) for de Herr Freygraf, as you call de Baron Von Blunderhaus, I do believe you would have believed then.''
``Seeing _is_ believing indeed.But what was your art--what was your mystery, Mr.Dousterswivel?''