Dukes.”  “Listen then to me:”  resumed I:  “It seems you want that great work, such an ornament to our own country, and so useful to every other—­the Monasticon Anglicanum of Sir William Dugdale.  Will you allow me to propose a fair good copy of that admirable performance, in exchange for your Statius?” “I can promise nothing—­replied M. Hartenschneider—­as that matter rests entirely with the superiors of the monastery; but what you say appears to be very reasonable; and, for myself, I should not hesitate one moment, in agreeing to the proposed exchange.”  My guide then gave me to understand that he was Professor of History; and that there were not fewer than one hundred monks upon the establishment.

I was next intreated, together with my travelling friend and our valet, to stop and pass the night there.  We were told that it was getting late and dark; and that there was only a cross road between Chrems and Ens, in the route to Lintz—­to which latter place we were going.  “You cannot reach Lintz (said our hospitable attendant) before midnight; but rain and darkness are not for men with nice sensibilities to encounter.  You and your friend, and eke your servant, shall not lack a hospitable entertainment.  Command therefore your travelling equipage to be brought hither.  You see (added he smiling) we have room enough for all your train.  I beseech you to tarry with us.”  This is almost a literal version of what M. Hartenschneider said—­and he said it fluently, and even in an impassioned manner.  I thanked him again and again; but declared it to be impossible to comply with his kind wishes.  “The hospitality of your order (observed I to the Professor) is equal to its learning.”  M. Hartenschneider bowed:  and then taking me by the arm, exclaimed, “well, since you cannot be prevailed upon to stay, you must make the most of your time.  Come and see one or two of our more ancient MSS.”

He then placed before me an Evangelistarium of the eighth century, which he said had belonged to Charlemagne, the founder of the monastery.[92] It was one of the most perfect pieces of calligraphy which I had ever seen; perhaps superior to that in the Public Library at Landshut.  But this MS. is yet more precious, as containing, what is considered to be, a compact between Charlemagne and the first Abbot of the Monastery, executed by both parties.  I looked at it with a curious and sceptical eye, and had scarcely the courage to doubt its authenticity.  The art which it exhibits, in the illuminations of the figures of the Evangelists, is sufficiently wretched—­compared with the specimens of the same period in the celebrated MS. (also once belonging to Charlemagne) in the private library of the King at Paris.[93] I next saw a MS. of the Sonnets of Petrarch, in a small folio, or super royal octavo size, supposed to have been executed in the fifteenth century, about seventy years after the death of the poet.  It is beautifully written in a neat roman letter, and evidently the performance of an Italian scribe; but it may as likely be a copy, made in the early part of the fifteenth century, of a MS. of the previous century.  However, it is doubtless a precious MS. The ornaments are sparingly introduced, and feebly executed.