UNIVERSITYor
CHICAGOH
THE
:





---- __ __ _ __---- - -----------， -----------











------ —-








THE MUMMY.
VOL. III.


LONDON --
PRINTED BY s, AND R. BeNrley, DoRser st RPET.


- -
e A
lo t_* º * *- |\UNA * º *…*& | u) & 9
- * * º
\ º
/fire Musix y,
- e : -; -> -
- - • * * -
..". • * * . . A TA:LE: '. .. :*. : ... ... •,
‘....' ... :... ::::::: *-* : * : :.
OF
THE TWENTY-SECOND CENTURY.
“Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up 2"
1 SAM., xxviii. 15.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
WOL. III.
LONDON :
HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1827.


--~~~
~ RAA= -
\lavº-
\{x\
Geº


735409
T H E M U M M Y.
CHAPTER I.
WHEN Roderick and Dr. Entwerfen returned
to the camp, they found Edric most impatiently
awaiting their arrival. He was too much agi-
tated to speak; and the worthy doctor found
all his troubles amply repaid by the interest
his friends took in his welfare.
Whilst Dr. Entwerfen was employed in re-
lating his adventures to Edric, Roderick was
occupied by a task far more difficult and im-
portant than any he had yet undertaken, viz.
that of organizing and of providing for the
WOL. III. B


2 T H E M U M M Y.
disorderly multitude that had thronged into
his camp from the city: their number was
immense; men, women, and children, crowded
round their deliverer, falling upon their knees,
blessing him and kissing the edge of his gar-
ments. Roderick was affected even to tears:
“For Heaven's sake, my good friends,” said he,
“ spare me; I have done but my duty; I have
been but an humble instrument in the hands
of Providence; address your thanks to him :
there they are due.”
Roderick, however, was quite aware it was
not enough to have saved these people: he
knew he must do something to provide them
with food and lodging ; and that if he did not,
when the first moment of enthusiasm should be
passed, unpleasant scenes must inevitably take
place. He accordingly made dispositions to
this effect, with a prudence and sagacity that
would have done credit to far more advanced
years. Temporary huts were erected, till the
streets of Seville could be cleared of the ruins
that encumbered them, and the houses in some
measure repaired. Shelter for the inhabitants


THE MUMMY. 3
being thus provided, Roderick harangued the
magistrates, directing them to take the people
under their direction. These sapient ministers
of justice gladly gave him possession of the
town, which Roderick was too generous to as-
sume without their permission, and acknow-
ledged themselves and the garrison prisoners
of war. The peasants, when they found the
kindness with which the citizens had been
treated, flocked in with provisions, and the
camp of the Irish monarch soon resembled an
immense fair.
Alexis had followed his master during the
whole of these arrangements, and had fre-
quently sighed deeply as they proceeded.
“What is , the matter with the boy 2" said
Roderick in one of these moments: “I cannot
imagine why he looks so melancholy I’’
The boy enthusiastically clasped his hands
together, looking up to Heaven, as though mur-
muring an inward prayer.
“What can this mean?” exclaimed Roderick
with astonishment. -
The boy took his master's hand, pressing
B 2


4 THE MUMMY.
it first to his lips, and then vehemently to his
heart, and knelt before him, reverentially bend-
ing his forehead to the earth. The next mo-
ment, however, officers entering for directions,
the attention of Roderick was diverted and
Alexis forgotten.
In the mean time, M. de Mallet and his
daughter, who had been exceedingly agitated
by the events of the day, thought not of repose,
but sat in the tent prepared for them, convers-
ing upon the merits of their deliverers.
“I never saw a finer countenance,” said M.
de Mallet, “ so noble, so animated, and yet
so good.”
“Good indeed,” ejaculated his daughter;
“surely if we could believe a superior spirit
would ever descend upon earth, such would be
the form he would assume !”
“How kindly he spoke, and how conside-
rately ſ” exclaimed the father.
“How attentive he seemed, and how deli-
cate l" rejoined the daughter.
“Such a majestic figure ſ”
“Such a graceful mannerſ"


THE MUMMY. 5
“It is so rare to find such condescension in
so great a monarch.”
“Monarch ſ” cried Pauline: “were you speak-
ing of Roderick, father P”
“And of whom were you speaking, child?”
returned her father, turning quickly round, and
fixing his eyes upon her.
“Of-of–Mr. Montagu, father,” replied
Pauline, casting down her eyes and deeply
blushing.
“Pauline !” said M. de Mallet. She started
at the sound of her father's voice, and looked
timidly up in his face. “Pauline,” repeated
he, “ my dear child, beware t”
At this moment a roar of cannon shook the
tent; the sound echoed by the walls of the
town, and leaping from hill to hill in lengthen-
ed peals, Pauline sunk upon her knees, hiding
her face in her father's lap. “My child my
beloved child ſ” cried M. de Mallet, bending
over her as though to shield her from danger,
“Heaven defend thee!”
In this painful situation, the father and
daughter continued till the cannonading ceased.


6 THE MUMMY.
All was now still ; and awful was the calm that
succeeded such a tumult. Pauline raised her
head, and looked fearfully around. “ Come,
my child,” said her father, “let us endeavour
to ascertain who are victors.”
Pauline rose from her knees, and, leaning
upon her father's arm, accompanied him to the
opening of the tent; but she shrunk back,
shuddering at the horrid scene that presented
itself. Their tent was situated at the extreme
edge of the camp, and commanded a view of
the whole field of battle where the combat of
the morning had taken place. The plain that
stretched to their left, lay covered with the
bodies of the dying and the dead, whilst a mul-
titude of horses broken loose, galloped over the
field, plunging, snorting, and crushing beneath
their hoofs, the bodies of their fallen riders.
In some places, the branches of half broken
trees strewed the ground, whilst their mutilated
trunks, perforated with shot, remained as
melancholy relics of their former beauty.
Swords and helmets, mingled with overturned
waggons and military utensils of all kinds, were


THE MUMMY. º
scattered in wild disorder around. The earth,
ploughed up by the cannon balls in deep fur-
rows, save where the ridges had been beaten
flat by the feet of the combatants, looked wild
and uneven as the waves of the mighty ocean
arrested in the moment of tempest. Blood lay
in pools upon the ground; and clotted gore,
mingled horribly with remnants of human bones
and brains, hung to the still standing bushes,
disfiguring the fair face of nature.
Pauline shuddered, and turned eagerly to the
other side of the landscape, which commanded
a view of the town. Here still, however, she
found nothing but death and war. It was the
moment when the explosion of the petard set
fire to the wooden bulwark; and Roderick and
Edric leaped through the flames upon the
beach. The bright glare of the blazing bul-
warks relieved strongly their dark figures, and
Pauline distinctly saw and recognized them for
a moment, though the next they were lost in a
cloud of smoke. She screamed, and grasped
her father's arm in convulsive agony. M. de
Mallet was scarcely less agitated than herself;


8 THE MUMMY,
and, as the smoke cleared away, they saw dis-
tinctly through its flaming volumes, Roderick
and Edric upon the breach, opposed by a crowd
of Spaniards, and fighting with inveterate fury.
“Roderick is on his knees,” cried M. de Mal-
let. “But seeſ he rises suddenly, and plunges
the Spaniard, who had raised his sword to cut
him down, into the flames.” Pauline did not
speak; but she gasped for breath, and held her
father's arm yet more tightly than before.
Edric was now seen grappling hand to hand
with a Spaniard, when the fire and smoke
closed upon him and hid him from their view.
The next instant, a tremendous crash was heard,
and loud shouts, followed by a rush of men;
it was the sortie of the besieged.
“Oh, heavens !” cried Pauline, turning pale,
and resting her head upon her father's shoul-
der, “war is a dreadful thing.”
“You are faint, my child,” replied M. de
Mallet; “this is no fitting scene for you. Shall
we go in P”
“Oh, no, no!" cried Pauline feebly; “I can-
not leave the spot.” Here shouts of “Roderick :


THE M UMMY. 9
Roderick for ever Roderick and glory !” rung
in their ears. Pauline shuddered ; a faint sick-
ness crept over her; the scene seemed to swim
before her eyes; and she would have fallen, but
for the supporting arm of her father. At this
moment, some soldiers, carrying a bier, passed
at a little distance from the tent. Upon it lay
the body of an officer; his head hung back, his
long thick hair was matted with gore, and a
ghastly wound gaped on his uncovered breast.
Pauline could bear no more—she thought it was
Edric, and she fell fainting into her father's arms.
M. de Mallet bore her back into the tent,
and as soon as she was sufficiently recovered to
enable him to think of any thing but herself, he
dispatched one of the soldiers, appointed to at-
tend them, to ascertain if the Irish monarch
had escaped. The soldier did not return; and
M. de Mallet, too impatient to remain in his
tent, sallied forth to learn the news himself.
Scarcely was he gone, however, when the sol-
dier's wife, whom he had called to the assist-
ance of Pauline, perceived the town was on fire.
Pauline's agitation now became excessive; she
B 5


10 THE MUMMY.
trembled in every limb, and listened till the
sense of hearing seemed agony. She could not
comprehend the cause of the noise and bustle
made by the citizens, as they came crowding
into the camp; she looked forth, but the throng
of half naked men, women, and children, that
came hurrying along, seemed inexplicable; she
stopped a woman, who, half dressed, had her
clothes tucked up in one hand, whilst with the
other she led two half naked children—“What
is the matter? asked she. “Roderick,” cried
the woman bewildered in her grief, “God
bless the noble Roderick ſ”
“Where are you going?” demanded Pauline
of two young men, bearing between them a bed
containing their sick father.
“Roderick ſ” shouted the pious Spaniards.
“Heaven, in its mercy, bless Roderick t”
Pauline was proceeding in her inquiries,
though without the smallest hope of receiving a
direct reply, the hearts and minds of Spaniards
being so full of Roderick, that no other name
could find utterance from their lips, when she
perceived her father.


THE MUMMY. 11
“My dearest father ſ” cried she, running to
him; “now I shall know all ! What is the
matter P”
“Roderick, the noble Roderick is safe " re-
peated M. de Mallet. Pauline was chagrined—
she longed to hear of Edric, and she envied,
for his sake, the renown of the Irish hero.
“Can you, too, speak of nothing but Roderick?”
said she, somewhat reproachfully.
“And of whom else should I speak 2" replied
her father. “Who else deserves to be spoken of 2
for surely he is the bravest! the noblest of men "
“I do not doubt it,” observed Pauline coldly.
“Every tongue utters his praise—every breast
swells with gratitude at his goodness—and
every hand is raised to Heaven in prayers on
his behalf.
“Have there been many persons killed ”
asked Pauline.
“How can you ask so foolish a question ?”
replied her father. “Do you not see the
ground heaped with slain f"
“But persons of note, I mean P”
“Let me see; I think they said there were


19 THE MUMMY.
the Generals H- and M—, and Counts L–,
P— and T-.”
“Oh!” groaned Pauline, impatiently.
“And besides, I think they say Mr. Mon-
tagu is seriously wounded.”
“I feared so t” sighed Pauline, “he is so
brave.”
“Yes—every one says he is brave, and im-
plores blessings upon his name—for he saved
the life of Roderickſ"
Pauline's countenance had beamed with tri-
umph at the commencement of this sentence;
but it rather fell at the conclusion. She did
not quite like her hero to owe his glory to any
one but himself.
M. de Mallet continued: “His bravery and
nobleness of spirit were unequalled. Every
one praises him. There is certainly something
very extraordinary in the character of the Eng-
lish. Their daring tempers and love of adven-
ture lead them to quit peace and riches in their
native country, to seek glory and distinction
elsewhere. This Mr. Montagu is really an
exalted young man.”


THE MUMMY. 13
Pauline's eyes flashed joy—she felt she loved
her father better than ever—she could have
embraced him as he spoke, for the praise of
Edric sounded as the sweetest music in her
ears. Strange that so slight an acquaintance
should have produced so strong a passion but
such and so inexplicable is love.
Pauline had now patience to hear the expla–
nation of her father respecting Roderick.
She even felt pleasure in the repetition of his
exploits, for he was the friend of Edric ; and
she retired to rest—happy in herself, and con-
tented with all the world; having been first
assured by her father that the surgeon confi-
dently expected Edric would soon recover.
Pauline, however, would have been very much
puzzled to explain the cause of the excessive con-
tentment that she felt. The situation of herself
and father was as hopeless as ever. They were
still prisoners in a strange land, without fortune,
without friends; but so little does happiness
depend upon external circumstances, that the
breast of Pauline seemed to have been a stran-
ger to it till now.


14 THE MUMMY.
After arranging every thing for the com-
fort of the refugees and his own soldiers,
Roderick took a few hours of hurried re-
pose. When he rose in the morning, he sent
his compliments to M. de Mallet and his
daughter to demand permission to wait upon
them. This was instantly and gladly accord-
ed, and in a few minutes the Irish hero was
in their tent.
“I condole with your Majesty upon the
situation of your friend,” said M. de Mallet,
the moment he saw him : “I hope he is
better.”
The monarch smiled; he forgave the abrupt-
ness of the question, in favour of the excel-
lence of the motive, and he replied that Mr.
Montagu was fast recovering. “ He regrets
exceedingly,” added he, “that it is not in his
power to pay his devoirs here”—bowing to
Pauline, “ and well can I sympathize with
him, as I know what he loses.”
Pauline inquired modestly the particulars
of the combat. “Upon my word, Madam,”
replied Roderick, “I know very little about it.”


THE MUMMY. 15
“I thought your Majesty had been en-
gaged.”
“That is the very reason. If I had not,
the case might have been different; but as it
was, I only just saw a great many people
that tried to kill me, and a great many that
I tried to kill, and the smoke hid all the rest.”
“A very satisfactory account of a battle,
upon my word,” cried M. de Mallet, smiling;
“but other people saw more of your Majesty's
acts than you did yourself; and they say, you
performed prodigies of valour.”
“It is very kind of them to say so,” said
Roderick, “for I am sure it is more than they
know.”
“Your Majesty's modesty wishes to throw
a veil over your valour,” observed Pauline,
“but luckily it cannot be concealed.”
“Your praises, Madam, would make any man
a coxcomb,” returned the Monarch : “I own
I have not the courage to refuse commendations
from your lips.”
Pauline blushed—she fancied she had said
too much, and now remained silent.


16 T H E MUMMY.
“I cannot describe how much I admire your
Majesty's leniency to the inhabitants of the
city,” said M. de Mallet: “ it proves your
benevolence is equal to your valour, though
indeed it was sound policy to act as you have
done; for by this you have conciliated the
hearts of the Spaniards; whereas, if you had
exercised any cruelty, they would have risen
against you en masse; but this, I dare say, your
Majesty considered.”
“Indeed,” replied Roderick smiling, “my
Majesty considered no such thing ; I only
thought as a man: I did not like to see my fel-
low-creatures burnt to death, or poniarded if
they attempted to escape; I should not have
liked it at all, if I had been in a similar situ-
ation, and so I did all in my power to save them
—that is all I know about the matter. But
to change the subject, I have a great favour to
beg of you, Mademoiselle de Mallet.”
“What is it 2" asked Pauline: “ your
Majesty has only to speak to be obeyed.”
“Oh for Heaven's sake do not talk of
obedience—it is I who should obey—I only


THE MUMMY. 17
ask a favour, and that is, that you will permit
me to bring Dr. Entwerfen to kneel at your
feet and kiss your fair hand, in token of his
homage.”
“I would not advise Pauline to let him
kneel,” said M. de Mallet laughing, “ as
I fear, if she does, there will be some difficulty
in getting him up again.”
“Your Majesty's commands,-” said Pauline.
“Do not talk of commands,” interrupted
Roderick; “I hate the word.”
“Your Majesty's wishes, then,” continued
Pauline smiling, “shall be complied with.”
“ This evening, then," cried the gay mo-
narch, “the doctor shall make his appear-
ance. Till then, adieu !”
“Will your Majesty have the kindness to
present my best wishes to Mr. Montagu for
his recovery,” requested M. de Mallet.
“Certainly,” replied Roderick; “but am
I to tell Edric that Mademoiselle de Mallet
has no wishes for his welfare?”
“I wish—I hope—that is, I think ->
stammered Pauline.


}8 THE MUMMY.
“My daughter means her sentiments are
exactly similar to my own upon the subject,”
said M. de Mallet gravely; for he was not at
all pleased with the interpretation he thought
the King might put upon the embarrassment
of his daughter.
“Very well!” repeated Roderick provok-
ingly: “I shall tell Edric, that M. de Mal-
let and his daughter think exactly alike of
him.—That is it, is it not f"
M. de Mallet was about to reply, when the
King, nodding and waving his hand, bade them
adieu, and hurried away. “I don't know what
to make of the Irish hero,” said M. de Mallet,
the moment he had left them. “With all his
good qualities, there is something very strange
about him: I don’t know what to make of him "
Pauline sighed assent ; though she did know
what to make of him very well, for she fan-
cied he saw, and ridiculed her partiality
for Edric. This idea roused every spark of
pride in her nature; she could not bear the
thought of being supposed to give her love
unsought, and she determined when she next


THE MUMMY. 19
saw Roderick to show by her coldness and
indifference, when Edric was mentioned, how
completely he had been deceived.
When Roderick left the tent of M. de Mal-
let, he returned to Edric, whom he found
pale and feeble.
“You are the happiest fellow in existence,
Edric l’” said he: “I would willingly give all
my glory, and even my demoniacal renown, that
the Spaniards talk so much about, to be able
to call up such blushes to the cheek of beauty
as your name can raise. Oh! if you had seen
Pauline. By Heaven she is the loveliest
creature I ever beheld in my life ſ”
As he spoke, Alexis, the Greek page, who had
been crouching rather than sitting at the foot
of Edric's couch, resting his head upon his
hands, and looking absorbed in grief, uttered
a faint cry, and rushed out of the tent.
“There is something very extraordinary
about that boy,” said Roderick, looking after
him.
“There is, indeed,” replied Edric, “and I
have something that I wish to communicate


20 THE MUM MY.
•
to you respecting him:” and in a few words
he related what had passed the preceding
night in the tent.
“Impossible !” cried Roderick, “you must
have been dreaming, Edric What commu-
nication would the boy hold with Alvarez P
You know he is dumb. Besides, even if Al-
varez were inclined to plot against me, he is too
prudent and reserved to make a confidant of a
beardless boy ſ”
“I simply relate the facts as they occurred,”
said Edric ; “I do not pretend to explain
them. But I can assure you, I was neither
dreaming nor delirious.”
“It is very strange I" repeated Roderick
musing, “ and it corresponds remarkably with
what I have observed myself.” For some
moments he remained lost in thought; but it
was not in his gay and joyous nature to suffer
any thing to depress him long; and the next
instant, Alexis was forgotten.
The fall of Seville, and the destruction of
the army sent to defend it, produced a pow-
erful effect upon the destinies of Spain. The


THE MUM MY. 21
Cortes again sent ambassadors to negociate
with the Irish hero; but, taught by experience,
he now received them haughtily, refusing to
treat with them but as a conqueror; and to
put his threats in execution he determined to
advance immediately upon Madrid.
“We must follow up our victory,” said he
to Edric, after he had somewhat contemp-
tuously dismissed the deputies from the shat-
tered remnant of their allied army, who came
to sue humbly at his feet for peace. “These
people are treacherous beyond description. They
do not understand leniency, and they must be
treated with sword in hand. I am thoroughly
tired of them; their fickleness and uncertainty
have quite disgusted me; I will therefore
march to Madrid, establish Don Pedro as their
sovereign, and take my leave of them for
ever.”
“I am rejoiced to hear it !” exclaimed
Edric. “You will then return to Ireland,
and devote your time to your own subjects.”
“I will try to satisfy them as well
as I can ; but as perfection cannot be ex-


22 THE MUMMY.
pected all at once, you must not be sur-
prised if some day I should fly off in a tan-
gent, and take it into my head to colonize the
moon.”
Edric laughed: “If you promise to wait till
then,” said he, “I shall be satisfied.”
“You may not find my project so wild as
it appears,” rejoined Roderick. “The moon
is a very pretty, mild, modest-looking planet,
and I must own I should like amazingly to see
what kind of inhabitants she contains; and if
I should determine to go there, here is a gen-
tleman who I am sure will be quite ready
to accompany me.” –
Dr. Entwerfen entered the tent as he spoke.
“Of what was your Majesty speaking 2"
asked he.
“Of a voyage to the moon,” said Roderick.
“Will you go with me?”
“With all my heart,” cried the little doctor,
rubbing his hands and looking all glee at the
thought.
“ There, I told you so,” said Roderick,
laughing. -
:


Th E MUMMY. 23
“I should have thought the many ad-
ventures you have met with had cured your
passion for travelling,” rejoined Edric.
“Cured him Given him a zest for it, you
mean,” replied Roderick. “The appetite for
travelling always grows with what it feeds upon;
and though the doctor may boast
* That he has fair Seville seen,
So is a traveller, I ween,”
yet I do not doubt but that he is just as eager
to explore new places as ever.” -
“Yes,” returned the doctor, “I certainly
did see Seville.”
“Every part of it, my dear fellow, from its
palaces to its dungeons,” resumed Roderick;
“nay, I believe you were very near being in-
dulged with a view of its ropes.”
The doctor did not quite relish this raillery.
“I can assure your Majesty—”
“Apropos de bottes,” cried Roderick, inter-
rupting him, “I had entirely forgotten I pro-
mised to introduce you to Mademoiselle de
Mallet. We will go now. Will you accom-
pany us, Edric P I am sorry to ask you to do


24 THE MUMMY.
any thing so disagreeable; but I think it will
be but decent to kiss hands, take leave, and all
that sort of thing, before we set out for Ma-
drid: besides, it may be as well to make some
kind of provision as to what is to become of
them in our absence.”
“Then you will not take them with you ?”
said Edric, despondingly.
“Who ever heard of such a thing P” cried
Roderick; “How could I possibly ask the
lovely Pauline to endure the inconveniences of
travelling with a camp? I really have not the
assurance to attempt it.”
Edric sighed deeply; and his countenance
assumed an expression of so much melancholy
that Roderick laughed immoderately: “I could
not have believed it possible,” cried he, “that
you could ever become such a sighing Stre-
phon; the thing's incredible !”
“ The pain of my wounds,” said Edric,
blushing ; for even philosophers don't like to
be laughed at.
“The pain in your heart 1" repeated Rode-
rick, mimicking him. “ But, come ! come !


THE MUMMY. 25
I can pity you. I have been in love at least
fifty times myself—so I know what it is.”
“But I am not in love,” remonstrated Edric.
“Denial is one of the most dangerous symp-
toms,” resumed Roderick, gravely. “Experi-
enced physicians rarely think their patients
really ill, till they are not conscious of it them-
selves. Let me feel your pulse.”
“Psha,” said Edric, impatiently.
“ Will you go then ſ” asked Roderick,
laughing; and to avoid being farther torment-
ed by his raillery, Edric hastily rose from his
couch, and declared himself ready to attend
him. The injuries he had received, having been
only flesh wounds inflicted with a sabre, had
now nearly healed; and the only change they
had produced in his appearance, had been to
make him look more pale and interesting, one
arm being supported by a sling, and a bandeau
bound round his forehead. Pauline's eyes
sparkled when she saw him, in spite of her in-
tended indifference; and she could not command
her voice so entirely, but that its tremulous
tone betrayed her inward agitation.
WOL. III. C


26 THE MUMMY.
Edric's eyes also involuntarily expressed his
pleasure; whilst the gay laugh and arch look
of Roderick told that he was perfectly aware
of what was passing in the mind of each. Doc-
tor Entwerfen, however, saw nothing of the
kind, his mind being quite absorbed in the de-
lightful contemplation of his own glory. He
had been presented to M. de Mallet by Rode-
rick, as “his friend and counsellor, the learned
and justly celebrated Dr. Entwerfen;” and
that moment seemed a sufficient reward for
a whole life of misery, the doctor's ecstasy
upon the occasion being so unbounded, that he
neither knew what he did nor what he said.
Whilst Roderick had been speaking, indeed,
he had been in perfect agony; stretching him-
self out on tiptoe, opening his hands and clo-
sing them again with every sentence, as though
bursting with impatience to speak, that he might
by his eloquence confirm the monarch's eulogium,
yet trembling every instant lest he should inter-
rupt it.
M. de Mallet had been a dabbler in scien-
tific experiments in his youth, and, pleased to


THE MUMMY. 27
find a person who could talk to him, and un-
derstand his ideas upon the subject, he soon
drew the doctor on one side, leaving his
younger friends to be entertained by his
daughter.
“I am glad, very glad, to see you so soon
recovered,” said Pauline, addressing Edric in a
gentle tone; “I feared, that is, my father fear-
ed, your wounds were more serious.”
“You see, Edric,” cried Roderick archly,
“it is as I said—Mademoiselle de Mallet feels
for you exactly the same interest as her father
does.”
“I should be flattered by exciting any inte-
rest in so gentle a bosom,” sighed Edric, look-
ing at her tenderly.
Pauline sighed too—involuntarily, but re-
mained silent. -
“Do you then feel no interest in my behalf?”
continued Edric; “not even the cold, chilling
feeling sanctioned by your father?”
“Oh! call not the interest my father feels
for you cold or chilling !” exclaimed Pauline
with energy, “I am sure—that is, I think—"
c 2


28 THE MUMMY.
and here, fearing she had said too much, she
stopped abruptly, totally unable to proceed.
“Oh, go on " exclaimed Edric, gazing ear-
nestly upon her blushing face—“go on, I
could listen to you for ever !”
Pauline trembled, blushed, and hesitated.
“I–I—I think I had better go to my father,”
stammered she after a short pause.
Roderick smiled : “By all means !” said he.
“Don’t you think so, Edric P”
Edric did not reply; for in fact he did not
hear the question; whilst poor Pauline's agitation
increased, and her colour changed rapidly every
moment: she dreaded Roderick's raillery, and
trembled so violently that she could scarcely
stand.
At this moment her father returned; he look-
ed at his daughter with some surprise, and
then, turning to his guests, he apologized for
her abstraction. “My daughter is unused to
camps,” said he, “and the scenes she has lately
gone through have been too much for her
nerves.”
“She will now have an opportunity of reco-


THE MUMMY. 29
vering herself,” replied Roderick; “my army
will move forward to-morrow, and if you will
accept the post, I will leave you governor of
this city, with a sufficient garrison to keep it
on my behalf.”
Pauline turned deathly pale as he spoke, and
every hope of happiness seemed to fly from her
breast for ever.
M. de Mallet, however, was not at all aware
of his daughter's anguish; and, thanking the
king gratefully for the high honour conferred
upon him, his fancy began to revel by anticipa-
tion in the delights of governorship; and in
ten minutes he had arranged in his mind as
many improvements and alterations as it would
take fifty years to accomplish.
“Farewell,” continued Roderick, “I trust
we shall meet again, if not here, at least in
another and a better world. Permit me, lady!”
continued he, slightly touching with his lips
the pallid cheek of Pauline. “To-morrow with
the dawn we advance, and we have so much to
do ere then, that we must deny ourselves the
pleasure of again enjoying your society. Fare-


30 THE MUMMY
well, Governor, you will find the necessary
papers to install you here,” (giving him a
packet) “and the soldiers have orders to obey
you as myself. Come, Edric.”
Edric advanced, and bowing, took the hand
of Pauline and pressed it respectfully to his
lips;–his heart was too full to speak. Pauline
could scarcely restrain her tears, and shaking
hands with the doctor, she hastily retired to a
part of the tent enclosed for her use.
“My daughter is not well,” said M. de Mal-
let, “ these scenes of blood and war are too
much for her nerves; but she will soon recover
when you have left us.”
“I doubt that,” murmured Roderick in
a half whisper; and soon after the friends
retired. Edric was not insensible to Pauline's
emotion; and as he more than suspected the
cause, a pleasure, unknown before, throbbed
in his bosom. His eyes sparkled, and his
whole appearance presented so complete a con-
trast to his usual depression, that Roderick
could not resist the temptation of again rallying
him most unmercifully upon it. “Talk of


THE MUMMY. 31
medicine,” cried he, “there is no elixir like
the magic of a pair of bright eyes. All the
physicians in my camp can effect nothing like
it. Nay, you need not blush so, Edric I did
not imagine you were so far gone as that.”
“I do not blush, that I am aware of,” re-
turned Edric, somewhat peevishly ; for he did
not relish being teazed; “at least, I am sure I
have no occasion for blushing.”
“Well, then, don't look so like a bashful
maiden, disavowing her first attachment, with
a “La, Pa how can you think so P-I did not
suppose you were capable of such affectation.”
“I am not aware that I have been guilty of
any.”
“Come, then, own the truth candidly—you
love Mademoiselle de Mallet ‘’”
“How can you think so P” replied Edric,
blushing deeply in spite of his efforts to look
composed.
“You are indifferent to her, then? Dear me,
I had no idea of it, I never was more completely
deceived in my life Well, if that's the case, I
will resume my first design of trying my own
fortune.”


22 THE MUMMY.
“How can you be so provoking 2"
“Why it is very hard, if you are not in
love with her yourself, that you should wish to
prevent every one else from being so.”
“Your Majesty's rank, I should think, would
prevent your even thinking of Mademoiselle
de Mallet.”
“Why should my rank prevent the possibi-
lity of my being happy P"
“Your Majesty's rank prevents the possibi-
lity of your marrying Pauline; and I should
hope you would not dare to entertain disho.
nourable views respecting her.”
“ Dare dishonour ! Do you remember
whom you are speaking to, Edric P’
“Perfectly; for I have not forgotten Rode-
rick, though he appears to have forgotten him-
self.”
“Edric But I won't be angry with you.
When people are in love, they never mean
what they say ; in fact, they very seldom
know what they are talking about. I re-
member once when I was in love myself—”


THE MUMMY. 33
Alexis, who had waited at the entrance of
the tent during the visit his master had paid
to M. de Mallet, and was now following them,
sighed heavily at this remark. Roderick heard
him;—“What is the matter with the boy P”
said he: “Were you ever in love, Alexis?”
The page sighed yet more deeply than
before, and, crossing his arms upon his breast,
bent his head in token of assent.
“It is to be much lamented you cannot tell
us all about it,” continued Roderick; “for you
could never choose a more fitting moment for
such a tale; as you may depend upon the sym-
pathy of Mr. Montagu, even if I should be
so barbarous as to refuse you mine:—
‘We pity faults to which we feel inclined,
And to our proper failings can be kind;’
as one of your own poets says. Eh, Edric
Don't you think he's right P”
“I think you are very provoking.”
“That is because I am touching upon a
string that happens to be not quite in tune; so
C 5


34 THE MUMMY.
no wonder it jars a little. Do you not remem-
ber the old proverb–
‘Touch a man whose skin is sound,
He will stand, and fear no wound:
Touch a man when he is sore,
He will start, and bear no more.’”
“How can you condescend to repeat such
nonsense?" cried Edric, indignantly. “It is
unworthy the poorest beggar in your do-
minions !” -
“And how can you condescend to be moved
at such nonsense, Edric P’ replied Roderick,
laughing. “Come, come ! own the truth, for
it is useless to attempt any longer to deny it.
Say, candidly, that you are in love with Made-
moiselle de Mallet, and I will teaze you no
longer.” -
“In love is too strong a term. I admire,
esteem, and respect Mademoiselle de Mallet. I
even think her possessed of a thousand charms
and a thousand virtues; but as to being in
love—”
“Well, well! we will not quarrel about


THE MUMMY. 35
words. I do not think you will ever make a
romantic lover. You Englishmen are too rea-
soning and prudent ever to fall violently in
love. Your blood is as cold as your climate.
Now we take the thing quite differently; with
us love is a devouring flame ! a fire that absorbs
our whole being—a stream that sweeps every
thing before it—a madness—a delirium ! In
short, I don't know what it is ſ”
“I think not,” said Edric, drily.
“Psha, psha I’’ continued Roderick; “if it
could be described, it would not be worth feel-
ing. It is all spirit ! all soul l if you tie it
down to rules, it evaporates. Don't you think
so in Greece, Alexis f"
The page bowed, and shaking his head,
pressed his finger upon his lips.
“True,” returned his master; “I had for-
gotten: but if you cannot speak, you can write.
Take these tablets, I should like to know your
opinion.”
The page took the tablets, and wrote with
astonishing rapidity—“Since your Majesty


36 THE MUMMY.
condescends to ask my opinion, I think that the
love which can stay to reason, or hesitates to
sacrifice every thing to the beloved object, does
not deserve the name.”
“Bravo, my little hero!” cried Roderick,
tapping him upon the shoulder; “spoken like a
true Greek. An Irishman, however, would
have said nearly the same.”
The boy's slender figure trembled in every
nerve at his master's touch, and his cheeks were
flushed with unwonted passion, though his eyes
remained fixed upon the ground, from which
indeed he rarely raised them. Roderick gazed
upon him a few minutes in silence, as though he
wished to read his inmost soul. Then turning
abruptly to Dr. Entwerfen, who had taken no
part in the last conversation, he demanded gaily
what he was thinking of.
“I was thinking, your Majesty,” said the
doctor, gravely, “that it is a long way from
hence to Madrid, and that it will be very fa-
tiguing for your men to march so far.”
“ Upon my word, doctor,” said Roderick,
laughing, “you have really made a most sub-


THE MUMMY. 37
lime discovery, and I perfectly agree with you
in the justice of your conclusions.”
“That being granted,” continued the doc-
tor, “if any means could be devised by which
your army could be transported to the gates of
the city without the trouble of walking there,
it would be a good thing.”
“Certainly,” said the King; “the fact does
not admit of a dispute.”
“The only difficulty is to contrive how it is
to be done,” resumed the doctor, musing.
“Ay, there's the rub,” cried Roderick,
laughing immoderately; “however, if any one
can do it, I’m sure you can, my dear doctor.
So rally your energies and consider the best
means of commencing operations: I am sure, if
you exert yourself, you cannot fail of success.”
“Your Majesty does me honour, and I will
endeavour to prove I am not undeserving of
the confidence you repose in me,” said the
little doctor, drawing up himself to his full
height, and puffing out his cheeks as he
walked on absorbed in meditation. “I have
it,” cried he, suddenly stopping short; “what
z


38 THE MUMMY.
does your Majesty think of an immense
raft P”
“Excellent, my dear doctorſ I see but
three objections to making one large enough
to convey the whole army:-First, that we
have no timber to make it of;-secondly, we
have no horses to draw it;-and thirdly,
the roads are not wide enough to admit it.”
“Balloons would do, but we have them not,”
resumed the doctor, still profoundly cogitat-
ing, with his eyes fixed upon the ground, and
his hands in his breeches-pockets.
“What think you of packing the soldiers
up in bombs, and shooting them out of mor-
tars?” asked Roderick.
“Your Majesty is pleased to jest,” ob-
served the doctor, gravely; “but ridicule is not
argument.”
“Certainly not,” replied the King; “and
you mistake me greatly if you thought I meant
to ridicule your plan. I only wished to remark
that I feared it would be rather difficult to put
it in execution.”
“That which can be accomplished without


THE MUMMY. 39
difficulty,” said the doctor, solemnly, “is
scarcely worth the trouble of undertaking, and
quite below the consideration of a man of
genius. Difficulties to a man of science are but
incentives to action.”
“Most sensibly observed, my dear doctor,”
cried Roderick; “however, as we have now
reached our tent, I must leave you to con-
trive some plan to bring us back from Madrid,
as I am afraid we cannot wait now to put your
designs in practice to enable us to get there:
we must march with the dawn. Of course you
will accompany us.”
“Certainly " returned the doctor, still mus-
ing; then muttering to himself—“I don't
much like the plan of shooting off the soldiers,
it would take such large mortars and so much
gunpowder:—however, there is no knowing
what might be done: I will think of it:”—he
retired to his tent, though no sleep visited his
eyes that night, so completely had the idea
of packing up the soldiers in bombs taken
possession of his imagination.
Roderick’s arrangements were soon made,


40 THE MUMMY.
for Nature had certainly intended him for a
general. His intelligent mind foresaw every
thing, and provided against every contingency.
Brave in the field, and prudent in council,
the only fault of Roderick as a soldier was
that he sometimes suffered himself to be carried
away by his ardour when it would have been
wiser to delay. But this very impetuosity
had its charms in the eyes of his soldiers, as he
never hesitated to expose himself to the same
dangers or to undergo the same privations
as themselves, and they would all have fol-
lowed him willingly into the very jaws of
destruction.
After arranging every thing for the morn-
ing's march, the Irish hero snatched a few hours
of repose. With the dawn, however, the drums
beat the reveillée, and the Irish army left
Andalusia to advance by rapid marches upon
Madrid.


THE MUMMY. 41
CHAPTER II.
WHILST these scenes were taking place in
Spain, Elvira was beginning to discover, in
England, that it was not quite so delightful to
be a Queen as she had previously imagined.
The contending parties in the state had been
roused into action by the late struggle, and
party spirit is of all others the most difficult to
conquer. Besides this, the choice of Elvira
having been rather a matter of feeling than of
judgment, men felt dissatisfied at having suf-
fered themselves to be hurried away by their
passions, and, as is usual in such cases, they
were disposed to vent the ill-humour they felt
at their own conduct upon every thing which
chanced to fall in their way. Thus, even the


42 THE MUMMY.
best measures of Elvira's government were
warmly criticised; and as she unfortunately
altered some of her laws in consequence of
these objections, the critics were encouraged
to proceed; and fancying her plans to be the
result of weakness, when they were in fact
only produced by her natural candour and
love of justice, the people became more out-
rageous and troublesome with every concession
that was made to them.
Elvira's intentions were excellent, but by un-
fortunately wishing to please every one, she de-
stroyed their effect. This made her councils
vacillating, and her measures uncertain: no-
thing indeed but the strength of mind and com-
manding genius of Edmund, joined to his com-
plete devotion to her cause, could have pre-
vented the ruin of her government almost in
the moment of its formation. From a mis-
taken motive of generosity, she had retained in
her council those lords who had most vehe-
mently opposed her, though, in compliance
with the wishes of Edmund, they were shorn
of their beams. This was a fatal error; half


THE MUMMY. 43
measures are always dangerous: the lords in
question should have been discarded altogether,
or retained in their former seats; as it was,
Elvira had made them enemies, and yet left
them the power to sting her.
The emissaries of Rosaballa were also very
active, and the ferment of the public mind ex-
cessive. The taste the people had just enjoyed
of power, had only been enough to make them
long for more. They had only just began to
relish its sweets, when the dish was snatched
away from them, with which, if it had been left
them to devour, they would have soon been
cloyed. Discontents became general, disturb-
ances arose, which were no sooner quelled in
one quarter than they broke out in another,
and these petty insurrections, though almost
too trivial to mention, were excessively annoy-
ing. For trifling inconveniences, like a host of
flies buzzing round a nervous man on a sultry
day, are often more irritating to the temper,
than serious grievances; and the noble mind of
Edmund was wearied by subduing such paltry
enemies.


44 THE MUMMY.
“They want employment,” said he one day
to the Queen, after reading a dispatch contain-
ing an account of one of the most vexatious of
these tumults; “you must build bridges and
cut canals to amuse them.”
The active mind of Elvira caught eagerly at
the idea, and she vainly fancied her name would
be handed down to posterity as one of the great-
est of Queens, who, though in the bloom of
youth and pride of beauty, did not hesitate to
sacrifice herself for the good of her people, and
to devote that time to their welfare and the
improvement of her kingdom, which others of
her age and rank wasted in mere amusements.
Delighted with the thought, Elvira did not
delay a moment before she prepared to put it
in practice; and she was found for several days
together constantly surrounded by her coun-
sellors, and seated at a table absolutely loaded
with papers, which she was busily employed
in inspecting and arranging.
Plans for the erection of public buildings,”
for hospitals, bridges, museums, and churches,
schemes for new manufactories, hints for new


THE MUMMY. 45
establishments conducive to the public good,
and sketches of new discoveries, lay in heaps.
before her; mixed with addresses of compli-
ments, votes of thanks, complaints of griev-
ances, petitions, secret informations; and in
short all that multifarious collection of paper,
with which a monarch is sure to be surrounded
who is said to be anxious to ameliorate the
condition of his people, or who is unhappily
reported to possess a genius for improvement.
Unfortunate is the man possessed of power,
of whom such reports are current. He is
directly surrounded by projectors, each pre-
senting a scheme more futile than that of his
predecessor ; and discontented dependants, each
bringing a long list of grievances, half of
which are imaginary, but which have been
conjured up by the complainants that they
may not lose the precious right they enjoy of
complaining.
Unhappy he whose fate obliges him to de-
cide between the rival claimants' certain
alike to be blamed, if he give or refuse; if
he accept, or if he reject


46 THE MUMMY.
Elvira had not yet found the evils of power;
but she now tasted of its sweets, and was en-
chanted. It seemed to her the most delight-
ful thing in the world to hold in her hands the
destinies of thousands of her fellow-creatures;
and she thought not of the heavy responsibility
it entailed, nor how often her path would be
followed by curses instead of blessings. Some
one has said that every time a sovereign
confers a favour, he makes one ungrateful sub-
ject and nine discontented ones; but Elvira
and Edmund as yet had not discovered the truth
of this maxim. Since their present plan had been
suggested, every thing with them had been the
couleur de rose. I say, them, for Edmund was
associated with Elvira in all these gigantic
schemes of improvement; and as he had con-
ceived the first idea of them, so it was he only
who could carry them into execution. His active
mind required something to employ it; and the
same strong feelings which had formerly been de-
voted to love and glory, were now turned into
another channel.
The energies of Elvira's mind had also been


THE MUMMY. 47
awakened by the struggle for the crown, and
the passion awakened in her breast by the
youthful stranger; and she now felt that she
could not quietly return again to the common-
place stillness of every-day life. The passions
when once roused from their dormant state,
must have something to occupy them, or they
will prey upon themselves. Thus we generally
see great warriors, or statesmen, or in fact any
class of men who have passed their lives in
activity, wither away when forced to the dull-
ness of an obscure retirement: their minds
and bodies decay alike from want of stimulants
to call them into action.
The improvement of her people supplied
this stimulus to the mind of Elyira,-but alas !
she entered upon it rather with passion than
judgment, and had not patience to wait to
see her plans gradually carried into effect:—
No—no—she could not endure any thing slow :
with her every thing must be done by a coup
de main ; and as the people and the buildings
were so stupid as not to be made perfect by the
first attempt, she was continually disappointed


48 THE MUMMY.
and discouraged. In fact, by attempting to do
too much, she did nothing.
When Elvira ascended the throne, she deter-
mined no public act should take place without
the approbation of her council; and these no-
ble lords were one day debating upon the pro-
priety of a new road, that was proposed to
intersect the entire kingdom at right angles,
when Lord Gustavus de Montfort rose to
oppose it, upon the ground of the injury it
would do to private property if carried into
effect.
Elvira could not endure Lord Gustavus: his
cold, prudent, calculating manner, without a
single spark of imagination, disgusted her be-
yond description; and the only good quality he
possessed, that of being indefatigable in follow-
ing up his point, completed her abhorrence.
Wit and eloquence were quite thrown away,
upon him, for he understood neither the one
nor the other; and when any new or brilliant
scheme crossed Elvira's imagination, and she de-
scribed it to her council with all the fire of
genius and animation, there he sate with his


THE MUMMY. 49
calm, cold unvarying countenance, ready to
damp it with a doubt. Lord Maysworth also
was her aversion ; his narrow mind, which
could only take in such trifles as escape the
observation of men of genius; his mean and
paltry spirit, and his grovelling ambition, were
all her detestation ; whilst Lord Noodle and
Lord Doodle, who, though ciphers in them-
selves, yet, like their prototypes, prodigiously
increased the weight of the figures placed before
them, completed the group.
Much, however, as Elvira disliked these mem-
bers of her council, she felt unequal to resist
their combined influence; and she was just upon
the point of being teased into their opinions
contrary to her own judgment, when Lord Ed-
mund entered the room. Indescribable was the
effect produced by his presence; for indeed his
commanding talents swayed all before them ;
and Elvira could not help smiling when she
saw her counsellors of state shake their wise
heads, and imagine they were assisting the
debate with their wisdom, whilst, in fact, they
were mere tools in his powerful hands. It is
WOL. III. D


50 THE MUMMY.
true they were the agents that produced the in-
tended effect; but his was the master spirit that
set them in motion, and taught them where to
go. His powerful intellect caught in an instant
the comparative merits and disadvantages of
the plan now in discussion, and his nod decided
its fate.
The council, however, though they im-
plicitly obeyed his will, had not the least
idea that they were doing so; as he had the
address so to form his opinions as to let each
person imagine them the suggestions of his own
breast.
Whilst the principal personages in the cabi-
net, fancying they were leading, were thus
blindly led, the nonentities of course followed
in their train, and our old friends the lords of
ancient family were perfectly astonished when
they heard the magnificent plans and saga-
cious councils attributed to them, and sate
quite lost in admiration of their own wisdom,
whilst their little heads and enormous perriwigs
kept bobbing with at least threefold their ac-
customed rapidity.


THE MUMMY. 51
Elvira's accession to the throne had induced
both her father and Sir Ambrose to leave the
country; the duke inhabiting his former
palace, and Sir Ambrose taking possession of
a moveable house in one of the streets upon the
banks of the Thames. Here the worthy Baronet
found himself perfectly happy in the society of
his niece Clara, (whom her parents permitted
to keep his house,) and that of his old friend
the duke.
“I begin to repent that my daughter is a
Queen,” said the duke to Sir Ambrose, one
night after supper, when the whole party were
sitting cosily round the fire in Sir Ambrose's
library. “I have not half the enjoyments I
used to have when I could have more of her
society. Now when I see her, it is but for an
instant, and she can scarcely stay to ask me
how I do, before she flies off to some of her new
plans of improvement.”
“The face of the country will be quite
changed in a few years, if all the plans of the
Queen prosper,” said Father Morris in his
usual smooth hypocritical manner.
D 2


52 THE MUM:".
“I hope not ſ” cried Sir Ambrose; “I hope
it's no treason, duke—but I must confess I wish
your daughter had never been Queen, if she
can't leave things as they are.”
“They are such wildgoose schemes too
that she takes into her head,” said the duke
piteously. “Only imagine; Sir Ambrose, she
showed me this morning a plan for making
aërial bridges to convey heavy weights from
one steeple to another; a machine for stamp-
ing shoes and boots at one blow out of a solid
piece of leather; a steam-engine for milking
cows; and an elastic summer-house that might
be folded up so as to be put into a man's
pocket !”
“It is really provoking; and Edward is quite
as scheming and visionary. I absolutely think,
if we were both to die, they would not feel
more than a temporary uneasiness at our loss,
their minds are so completely occupied in these
gigantic projects.”
Whilst these two old men were sitting com-
fortably over the fire, commenting on the


TV"Tº MU M MY. 53
glorious days when they were young, and when
all went right, or, what was nearly the same
thing, when all appeared to them to do so
(quite forgetting that age has other eyes than
youth, and that the change was in themselves,
not the times), Clara was at a splendid party
given by Elvira, and Father Morris soon left
the duke's library to join her.
It was a ball; and the splendid court of
Claudia seemed yet more brilliant under the
reign of her successor. It was the first time
Clara had ever been at court, and the effect the
gorgeous magnificence of the scene had upon
her was powerful in the extreme. She forgot
her cares, her sadness, and her love—all seemed
enchantment; and the old lady, who acted
as her chaperone, was quite horrorized at her
gaucherie.
Brilliant as all was, however, the lovely
goddess of the temple far exceeded even the
splendour of the shrine; and the beholders
gazed upon her with indescribable rapture.
Beautiful as the fairy image of a dream; kind,


54 THE MUMMY.
affable, and condescending to all, Elvira glided
through the crowd, followed by her suite to the
concert-room. Here, all that the imagination
of man could devise of harmony, enchanted the
ears. But harsh was every other sound to that
which stole upon the senses when Elvira was
induced to forget her rank and mingle her voice
with the music.
Elvira's singing was perfection: “clear as
a trumpet with a silver sound;” the round full
notes now swelled upon the ear in liquid
melody, and then died away, soft and sweet,
yet distinct even in their faintest strains.
Prince Ferdinand was at her side, and his
ardent gaze bespoke the intenseness of his
admiration. Elvira had not before seen
him since the night when her conversation
with him had so powerfully excited the jea-
lousy of Edmund; and as she now observed
his manner had again attracted Edmund's
attention, she blushed yet more deeply than
before.
Edmund saw her blushes; and, stung al-


THE MUMMY. 55
most to madness by the sight, rushed violently
out of the room.
The night was cold and damp, a drizzling
mist fell fast, and that peculiar chill that marks
the first approaches of winter, hung in the air;
but Lord Edmund thought not of the weather,
and he strode bareheaded through the palace-
gardens with hurried steps and the actions of
a maniac; whilst the thick gloom that pervaded
the sky, contrasted fearfully with the bril-
liantly illuminated apartment he had just
quitted. The gloominess of the scene, how-
ever, harmonized well with Edmund's feel-
ings; he felt soothed insensibly ; and though
he still stalked moodily backwards and for-
wards, he became gradually more calm.
“Ungrateful woman,” thought he, “to treat
me thus ! Does she not owe every thing to me?
I could bear her coldness; I could resign her
to a throne; but the idea of her loving another
drives me to distraction l–Curses on that fiend
It must be by his infernal arts that Ferdinand
has triumphed. The cold, the chaste Elvira


56 THE MUMMY.
could never give her love thus—thus almost
unsolicited, and at first sight if it were not the
work of magic. By Heaven, I would risk my
soul for vengeance on that demon ſ”
As he spoke, his eyes fell upon a thicket near
him, and he fancied he saw the figure of a man,
half obscured however by the mist, emerge
from its gloomy recesses. He gazed intently,
and the figure glided slowly on with cat-like,
creeping steps. The mind of Edmund was
worked up to frenzy—he almost fancied a
demon had appeared obedient to his wish, to
receive his pledge, and work his bidding.
“Speak ſ” cried he, in a voice that sounded
fearfully amidst the surrounding stillness—
“Speak | art thou a demon, or a mortal P’’
All was silent: the figure glided on ; and
Lord Edmund, oppressed by supernatural ter-
rors, and shuddering at the sound of his own
voice, could bear no more; he darted upon the
figure, and grasping it roughly, he exclaimed,
“Man or devil, I fear thee not, and thus will I
grapple with thee.”
“Gently, my son,” replied the well-known


THE MUMMY. 57
voice of Father Morris; “ in what have I of.
fended you?”
“Pardon, holy father,” returned Edmund
“I knew you not—I knew not what I did—my
passion blinded me.”
“And what has caused this passion ? The
mind of Edmund is too noble to be lightly
moved.”
“Oh talk not of the nobleness of my mind,
father; I feel I am but a poor weak worm.
Nobleness belongs to God alone; 'tis blas-
phemy to apply the term to man.”
“Tell me your grievances. They must, I am
sure, be great, or they would not thus affect
you. It is my holy office to console affliction.
Speak then, my son; for, remember, that
though joy is doubled by being partaken, grief
is lessened by being shared—and woe robbed of
half its bitterness.”
“I have little to confess, father. I was weak
and foolish ; but Elvira—”
“And are you astonished at a woman's fickle-
mess? Light as the eider down, and unstable as
the changing wind, inconstancy is natural to
D 5


58 THE MUMMY.
the sex—they crave incessantly for novelty;—
and as vanity is their only real passion, if that
be gratified they ask no more.”
“And has not Elvira's vanity been gratified
even to satiety 2 Have I not idolized, wor-
shipped her P Was it not my power that made
her what she is 2 And is this my reward P
To be scorned, deserted, laughed at, and for
what? A stranger —a boy l—my prisoner ſ”
“Whom do you mean P” asked the friar.
“Prince Ferdinand,” returned Edmund.
“Impossible !” cried Father Morris, start-
ing with well-feigned astonishment. “Elvira
cannot, surely, love Prince Ferdinand! And
yet, now I recollect, I saw her talking to
him, even now, with an appearance of deep in-
terest, when I passed through her splendid
chambers.” -
“Damnationſ” exclaimed Lord Edmund ve-
hemently, driven to distraction by this speech;
for, strange to tell, though we may be certain of
the reality of our own sufferings, they always
seem to come with double poignancy when we
hear them related by another.


THE MUMMY. 59
“Calm yourself, my son,” said Father Mor-
ris in his silky tones, eyeing him with about
as much compassion as an angler feels for the
writhing of a worm upon his hook. “These
bursts of passion are unworthy of you.”
“Oh, father!” cried Edmund, softened almost
into tears, “ you know not how I loved that wo-
man. Your grave, serious feelings, disciplined
by the restraint of a cloister, mortified by your
renunciation of all earthly pleasures, can form no
idea of the depth and fierceness of mine. Your
passions, father, are dead within you; subdued
by holy penitence to calmness; but mine rage
with the fury of a volcano, and destroy me ! O
that my fond attachment, my long devoted ser-
vices, my adoration, should be thus rewarded.
Yes—my adoration, for I have adored her,
father I worshipped her like a goddess; and
though I doted on her charms, and would have
endured unheard-of torments to have been blest
with their possession, yet, did I not sacrifice
my hopes 2–did I not relinquish the treasure
when just within my grasp, because her happi-
ness was dearer to me than my own f And


60 THE MUMMY.
now to see her lavish her favours on that boy
She smiled upon him, father, and he dared to
take her hand and press it to his lips. I saw
him kiss it, not with the calm respect of a
kneeling subject, but with the fervour, the im-
passioned ardour of a lover; and then he look-
ed at her—curses on the thought!—and she did
not reprove; but, casting down her eyes, softly
blushed consent. Damnation ' I cannot en-
dure it.”
“Passion, my son, entails its own punishment.
You see every thing with a jaundiced eye.
Elvira's nature is gentle and yielding; she
feared to hurt his feelings by her harshness.
'Tis but the natural consequence of that very
softness you so often have admired. Why
should you quarrel with it now P 'tis still the
same that charmed you, save that now it is ex-
tended to another, and will be soon, no doubt,
to all the world. Elvira has been educated in
retirement, and, seeing only yourself and Edric,
you thought her conduct was the effect of par-
tiality for you, when it was in fact but her na-
tural manner. She is now upon a larger theatre;


THE MUMMY. 61
and you must expect to see myriads of kneeling
victims worship her beauty, and pay homage at
her feet! And do you suppose she will be dis-
pleased at their attention? No; she is far too
gentle; she has no firmness; and the same sub-
mission she now pays to you, she will, if you
offend her, easily transfer to another. She is
not formed to govern; she would obey and be
happy; but the weight of government would
overwhelm her if she were left alone to sustain
it. Shake off, then, these selfish feelings, and be
again yourself. You have often said, you only
wished her happiness; and if that be the case,
even if she should really love Prince Ferdinand,
you ought to rejoice to see her in his arms.”
“Sooner would I perish, sooner would I
involve all in one universal ruin But it is im-
possible; she scarcely knows him.”
“And if it were so, still you would be wrong
to blame Elvira for what, in fact, she cannot
help. Her yielding softness is the defect of her
character.”
“Fool that I was, that very softness caught
me, and my fond heart fell captive to its chains.


62 THE MUMMY.
But it was folly, infatuation I see my error;
Rosabella has more character. She can love.”
Lord Edmund crossed his arms upon his
breast and was soon lost in a reverie, which
Father Morris was careful not to interrupt, but
which was broken by the approach of Trevors,
his lordship's aide-de-camp and secretary.”
“What do you want?” asked Lord Edmund
sternly.
“I came to seek your Lordship. I feared
you were unwell, as I missed your Lordship
from the party.”
“You missed me!” repeated Lord Edmund
bitterly. “You missed me! and did no one else
discover my absence? Was it so marked that my
servant could observe it, and yet no one else P”
“Did not the Queen inquire for Lord Ed-
mund P” asked Father Morris.
“I did not hear her Majesty,” replied Tre-
WOrS.
“How was she engaged 2 what was she do-
ing?” demanded Lord Edmund.
“She was sitting, talking to Prince Ferdi-
nand, my Lord.”


THE MUMMY . 63
Lord Edmund gnashed his teeth together,
grinding them with fury, and rushed back to
the house without speaking, whilst Trevors fol-
lowed at an humble distance.
“He has it,” cried Father Morris triumph-
antly—“he has it, and he is mine for ever.”
Several days elapsed from this period before
Elvira again saw Lord Edmund. She was sur-
prised at his absence; as indeed he was so in-
terwoven in her schemes and plans, that nothing
went on well without him.
“Will your Majesty have the goodness to
affix the royal seal to this ordinance P” asked
Lord Gustavus one morning.
“I don't know,” replied Elvira. “I can't
tell what to do. I wish Lord Edmund were
here.”
“He may soon be sent for,” said Lord Gus-
tavus pompously. “Though, with all due de-
ference to your Majesty's better judgment, it
does not appear to me that his presence is ex-
actly requisite.”
Lord Edmund, however, was summoned,
and he came. But oh how changed since


64 The MUMMY.
Elvira had seen him last ! His face looked pale
and thin, his cheeks were sunken, and his eyes
hollow and heavy, whilst his deep voice sound-
ed hoarse and unnatural. Passion had passed
through his soul, and withered as it went.
Elvira's heart smote her as she gazed upon
him.
“You have been ill, Edmund !” said she, in
tones of melting softness. “Why was I not
informed P Surely you could not think I would
willingly neglect you ? Could you judge so
harshly of me?”
The firm breast of Edmund softened as she
spoke, and tears swam in his eyes as he strug-
gled to reply with calmness—yes, tears; the
brave, the warlike Edmund, whose strength of
mind and firmness had resisted unequalled dan-
gers, now trembled before a woman.
“You must have some advice,” continued
Elvira. “Dr. Coleman, Dr. Hardman, can you
not prescribe for your patient 2"
“His Lordship appears feverish,” said Dr.
Coleman. “No doubt he has rested ill.”
“Yes—yes,” rejoined Dr. Hardman, with a


T H E MUMMY. 65
malignant smile. “His Lordship's eyes betray
his want of rest.”
“I have been slightly indisposed,” said
Lord Edmund, rallying his spirits to speak:
“ but I am better. Is there any thing in
which my services can be useful to your Ma-
jesty P"
“Her Majesty wishes you to inspect this
bill,” replied Lord Gustavus solemnly, “before
she gives it her royal assent.”
Lord Edmund's eyes sparkled. “Then she
still thinks my opinion of importance,” thought
he.
“ Lord Edmund's illness, I hope, is passed,”
said Dr. Hardman maliciously; “ for he cer-
tainly looks better even since he came into the
l'OOm.
Lord Edmund was better; a sudden revul-
sion of feeling had taken place within him, and
hope was again illumined in his bosom. Pas-
sion again rushed through his soul. “She
must, she shall, be mine,” thought he, whilst
fire flashed from his eyes. “The hated law
shall be repealed. Difficulties only increase the


66 THE MUMMY.
value of the prize, and they vanish before a
determined spirit. What I shall I, before
whose arm whole nations have fallen vanquish-
ed, shrink like a coward from the first trouble
that assails me! Oh, no I will not be so
weak; opposition shall only animate my cou-
rage. Treasures would be scarcely worth ac-
ceptance if they lay beneath one's feet—a
brave man spurns an easy victory ! I will
exert my powers, and Elvira shall be mine.”
Father Morris was at the levee, and he
watched with anxious eyes the fluctuations in
Edmund's expressive countenance. “Perdi-
tion seize her beauty ſ” muttered he “with
one look she undoes whole months of labour.
But he shall yet be mine—Cheops has sworn
he shall,—and Rosabella shall be Queen.
Be the Mummy mortal or fiend, he is resist-
less; he has unbounded power over the hu-
man heart, and what he wills must be accom-
plished.”
Some weeks elapsed, during which Lord
Edmund, restored to his former influence in the
government, laboured assiduously to prepare


THE MUMMY. 67
the minds of the people for abolishing the law
that prevented the marriage of the Queen.
With the greatest care he endeavoured to make
Elvira popular. For this purpose he persuaded
her to remit those burthens that weighed most
heavily upon the people, replacing them by
taxes levied in a more indirect way; for the
mass of a population seldom grumbles at
taxation, unless it see the trifles for which it
pays: men do not regard the giving double the
real value of a commodity, a tenth part so
much, as paying even a small direct sum for
the use of any of the common necessaries
of life.
By judiciously acting upon this principle,
Edmund made himself adored; and whispers
even were buzzed about, lamenting that he was
not King. This was the point to which Ed-
mund had wished to bring the people; and
he pursued his plan by supporting the poor
against the rich, and rigorously punishing the
magistrates or officers of justice who attempted
to oppress the people. The multitude gene-
rally hate those entrusted with the execution of


68 THE MUMMY.
the laws, perhaps upon the same principle
as the bleeding culprit abhors the sight of the
whip that has flogged him; and their natural
conceit and presumption were flattered by the
attention paid to their complaints; till, by his
judicious management, Lord Edmund found
that he had obtained the entire devotion of the
mob, and could wield them at his pleasure.
Time rolled on, and winter had already
wrapped its frozen mantle round the world,
when one day Father Morris abruptly entered
the apartment of Rosabella. “It is all over,”
cried he, as he threw himself in despair upon a
couch. “Edmund has obtained the consent
of the people for the Queen to marry, and no
doubt in a few weeks he will be the husband
of Elvira !”
“The husband of Elvira !” cried Rosabella,
her eyes flashing fire, and her cheeks glowing,
whilst every fibre quivered with agitation, and
her fine features bespoke the tremendous pas-
sions of a demon. “ Then may everlasting
misery attend the fiend that has deceived us;
that has led us on step by step to our destruc-


THE MUMMY. 69
tion, and is perhaps even now mocking our
despair | Yes, yes,” continued she, as the
fiendish laugh of Cheops rang in her ears, and
his detested form stood again before her,
“I expected this; you come to enjoy your
triumph and mock our credulity; but know,
this arm is yet powerful enough to revenge
my wrongs; it shall annihilate my rival; and
thou, wretch! detested hideous wretch! thou
too shalt feel its vengeance ſ”
“This to your friend ſ” said Cheops with a
bitter smile: “ fiel fie ' How blind is human
reason when the passions intervene !—all is for
the best—have patience ; wait a little, and my
promises will yet be accomplished.”
“ If Elvira had died,” murmured Father
Morris, a dark frown gathering upon his
brow.
“You would not be now alive,” said the
Mummy. “But fear not, all is as you can
wish.”
“ As we can wish P’’ cried Rosabella in-
dignantly.
“Yes, as you can wish,” returned Cheops


70 THE MUMMY.
firmly. “ Edmund has obtained permission
for Elvira to marry any natural born subject
of the realm ; but she will not wed him, for she
loves another, and that other is a foreigner.
He will be enraged at her refusal, and jealousy
will alienate him from her cause. He will then
naturally espouse that of her rival from am-
bition and revenge. Rosabella will be Queen,
and the law which prevented the marriage of
the Sovereign being abolished, Edmund will
become her husband—if not from love, at least
from ambition.”
“O Cheops ' 'tis useless to resist—we are thy
slaves, do with us as thou wilt.”
“Say rather you are slaves of your own
passions,” murmured the Mummy; and they
parted.
It was a clear frosty day in November, when
Elvira, scarcely knowing why, wandered into
the garden belonging to her splendid palace of
Somerset House; and, entering a pavilion, re-
clined upon a couch placed opposite to a win-
dow that commanded a view of the river. The
pavilion was decorated with the utmost taste.


THE MUMMY. 71
Its windows, opening to the ground, were
shaded with curtains of gossamer net, lined
with pink; the walls were beautifully painted,
and divided into panels by highly ornamented
columns; books, drawings, and musical instru-
ments, were scattered around; whilst tripods,
supporting vases filled with the rarest exotic
flowers, shed sweet fragrance through the air;
and the carpet was so soft and thick, that it
felt like moss beneath the feet.
Even in this temple of luxury, however, its
fair possessor was not happy. She sighed as
she surveyed the gorgeous refinement around
her, and felt forcibly the insufficiency of great-
ness. Listlessly she turned her eyes upon the
figures painted upon the walls: they repre-
sented the loves of Mars and Venus: they
were exquisitely painted: the artist had given
to the life the tender modesty of the goddess,
and the ardent passion of her lover. Elvira
gazed upon his glowing countenance and spark-
ling eyes; and then, looking down, sighed yet
more heavily than before.


72 THE MUMMY.
She dismissed her attendants, retaining only
Emma; and long her eyes were fixed on va-
cancy, and her mind absorbed in mournful con-
templations; when suddenly she was startled
by the entrance of a page, and the appearance
of Lord Edmund Montagu, who followed al-
most at the moment of the page's repeating
his name: his countenance beaming joy, and
hope dancing in his eyes.
“Oh, Elvira !” he cried, “you are now mine
—mine for ever ! The people permit you to
marry. The lords in council have signed the
law; the people have proclaimed it with ac-
clamations. You are free you are no longer
debarred from the inestimable pleasures of
domestic life—you are independent—you may
marry any natural born subject of the realm,
and will you now be mine !”
“And so relinquish my independence the
moment I obtain it,” said Elvira, smiling.
“Oh, my loved my adored Elvira! consent
to make me happy Believe me you shall be
free, and still as much a Queen as at this
moment.”


THE MUMMY. 73
“Edmund !” said Elvira seriously, “ you
deserve more than I can give you ; for I will
not insult you by supposing you would be sa-
tisfied with the possession of my crown without
my heart;-and that it is not in my power to
bestow.”
“My dearest Elvira, you but fancy this. I
know your feelings are warm, your sensibility
acute, and your generosity unbounded—can
you then want a heart?”
“Alas, no! but I have discovered I possess
one, only in time to know also that I have
given it to another.”
“And is that other a youth and a stranger?”
asked her lover, gasping for breath.
“He is,” replied Elvira, blushing, and look-
ing down.
“Then, indeed, I am wretched 1" cried Lord
Edmund; and, striking his clenched hand vehe-
mently against his forehead, he darted out of
the room.
Elvira gazed after him with a feeling almost
amounting to horror. Terrified at the strength
of the passions she had awakened, she appeared
WOL. III. E


74 THE MUMMY.
stupified, and stood looking like a child who
had accidentally cut the string which confined
the wheels of some powerful machinery, on hear-
ing its fearful clatter above its head.
“Oh, madam, madam!” cried Emma, wring-
ing her hands, “what will become of us? Your
Majesty has offended Lord Edmund for ever,
and for that wretch, who, I am certain, is a
fiend incarnate ſ”
“Peace, Emma ſ” said Elvira, “you forget
my rank—I will not be dictated to.”
“Pardon me, dear madam, you know I love
you, and—”
“I know, also, that you presume upon my
love. Begone ſ”
Emma obeyed, and Elvira was left alone.
Dreadfully agitated, and quite unable to
compose herself or arrange the chaos of her
thoughts, she walked to the windows of the
pavilion, and, opening one of them, looked out
upon the gardens. It is already said that these
delightful grounds were thrown open to the
public; but, in consequence of the ease with
which they might be enjoyed, a few half-pay


THE MUMMY, 75
officers, attorneys without clients, physicians
without patients, clergymen looking out for
livings, hissed players, disappointed authors and
discarded servants, alone strolled through their
romantic walks, and paused occasionally to gaze
upon the beautiful works of art with which
they were decorated. The English were now
decidedly the first sculptors in the world. Che-
mical preparations alone being used to supply.
light and heat, smoke was unknown, and the
atmosphere being no longer thick and cloudy,
marble bore exposure to it without material
injury. Besides this, perhaps no nation in the
world produced more beautiful models of male
and female beauty than England; and now that
the women had long thrown off those deformers
of the human shape yeleped stays, their forms
developed themselves into perfect symmetry.
Elvira, however, thought not of the gardens,
nor of the works of art they contained; yet as
she stood at the window, though absorbed in
her own reflections, her eyes rested upon the
exquisite statues before her. The inanimate
marble seemed endowed with soul and spirit,

E 2


76 The MUMMY.
whilst the graceful forms it represented seemed
to pause only for a moment, and to be ready
to start again into life and action after a short
repose—in short, they appeared to breathe;
and the spectator felt almost surprised, when
his eye had turned from them, to find them
still in the same attitude when he looked
again.
The river was frozen, and persons glided
along it in glittering traineaux, or skated
gracefully with infinite variety of movement;
whilst, every now and then, a steam-percussion-
moveable bridge shot across the stream, loaded
with goods and passengers, collapsing again the
instant its burthen was safely landed on the
other side.
Pleased with the busy scene around her,
Elvira stood and gazed, till half her troubles
seemed to vanish, and a pleasing train of
thought crept over her mind. “What have I
done?” thought she, “and yet I do not re-
pent.—No, no I could not act otherwise.
The noble and devoted love of Edmund de-
served my warmest gratitude, and I have done


THE MUMMY. 77
right to own the truth to him, painful as it
has been to me to do so, rather than torture
his generous bosom by exciting hopes I never
meant to realize. Yes, I have done right,” re-
peated she aloud; “and I am perfectly satis-
fied with my conduct.”
“Then you have reason to be contented,”
said the deep voice of Cheops, immediately
behind her; “for few indeed are the mortals
that can say so with justice ſ”
The solemn tones of the Mummy sank
like a foreboding of evil upon the heart of
Elvira, and she shuddered involuntarily.
“You think I have done wrong then?”
said she.
“I did not say that,” returned he calmly.—
“But had I not known the sex, I might per-
chance have felt surprised that you should
avow, unasked for, a secret to Lord Edmund,
which you have sedulously endeavoured to keep
concealed even from me.”
“Alas,” cried Elvira, “my motives—”
“ Were those of a woman,” interrupted
Cheops; “a being fated to work mischief. I


78 THE MUMMY.
do not blame you; for you have only acted
according to your natural instinct.”
“What do you mean?” asked Elvira, turn-
ing pale and trembling, for the words of the
Mummy created an undefinable dread upon
her mind.
“Listen " said Cheops, “ and I will tell
you.—If you had confided your secret to me, it
would have produced good, for I should have
aided your passions, and I cannot give assist-
ance unless it be required;—but by telling it
to Lord Edmund you have produced evil, for
he mistakes your lover for another, and the
consequences may be fatal. Thus, it is clear
that you could not have done otherwise than
as you have ; for when was a woman known to
hesitate between good and evil, and not choose
the latter P”
“Mistakes my lover for another ſ” ex-
claimed Elvira. “ For God's sake, explain
yourself "
“He thinks you meant Prince Ferdinand,”
said the Mummy coldly, “and he is now seek-
ing him in order to destroy him.”


THE MUMMY. 79
“Oh, God —Oh, God "cried Elvira in the
bitterest agony: “ what will become of me?
where is Edmund ! Let me fly to implore him
to spare the prince 1"
“It does not appear to me,” said Cheops
still more calmly, “that your endeavours to
preserve him are at all likely to produce the
effect you wish; for, as Lord Edmund already
believes you love the prince, and as that be-
lief is the reason of his hatred, your showing
a violent anxiety for his welfare does not ap-
pear to me exactly the mode most calculated to
destroy his suspicions.”
“True! true!” cried Elvira, wringing her
hands. “Alas! alas ! what will become of
me P” whilst, as she spoke, a piercing cry rang
in her ears, and a sudden rush of all the per-
sons in the gardens took place towards one
particular spot. Scarcely knowing what she did,
Elvira followed the crowd, and shrieked with
indescribable terror as she heard the clashing
of swords. Pale and trembling, she hurried
forward, and arrived just as Prince Ferdinand,
uttering a deep groan, fell beneath the sword of


80 THE MUMMY.
Lord Edmund. Elvira screamed, and throw-
ing herself upon the body, endeavoured in vain
to revive it, quite forgetting in the excess of
her agitation the crowd that surrounded her,
and the interpretation that might be put upon
her behaviour. One sole idea occupied her
mind, and chilled it with horror: it was, that
her imprudence had most probably deprived a
fellow-creature of existence.
Lord Edmund in the mean time stood in
statue-like insensibility, gazing upon her with
feelings of unutterable anguish. Her grief,
her violent emotion, seemed to confirm the pas-
sion she had avowed; and if she loved, his
exertions had only paved the way for the suc-
cess of his rival. The thought was madness.
Lord Edmund gnashed his teeth, his counte-
nance changed, blood gushed in torrents from
his side, for he too was wounded, and he leant
fainting against a tree.
The confusion that now prevailed was inde-
scribable. It was high treason to draw a sword
in the precincts of the royal palace; and the
guards, who were instantly assembled, took the


THE MUMMY. 81'
offenders into custody. They were both inca-
pable of offering any resistance, and they were
hurried away to prison amidst the exclamations
of the mob. Elvira had fainted, and she was
carried back to the palace; whilst the whispered
speculations of the crowd, upon the strangeness
of the scene, arose in half-stifled murmurs like
the distant roar of ocean. The attention of
the spectators, however, was soon fixed upon
the poor old Duke of Cornwall. He had stood
bending forwards—his hands clasped, and his
eyes riveted upon his daughter during the
whole of her ineffectual attempts to revive
the prince. The old man seemed turned to
stone: he neither moved, nor spoke ; his glassy
eyes were set, and his livid lips slightly qui-
vered ; at last he uttered a faint groan, and fell
senseless into the arms of his attendants in a
fit of apoplexy. The spectators thought him
dead, and fancied his heart had broken, on dis-
covering this unexpected weakness on the part
of his adored daughter.
Every one was powerfully affected, and
every one seemed bursting to speak; though no
E 5


82 THE MUMMY.
one knew exactly what he might venture to
say. Lord Gustavus looked stern, Lord Mays-
worth important, and Dr. Hardman sly; whilst
the Lords Noodle and Doodle shook their
little heads, till they seemed in imminent dan-
ger of becoming separated from their bodies.
Rosabella's heart alone swelled with rapture,
and her eyes beamed with ill-concealed tri-
umph.
“The Mummy was right,” thought she;—
“Elvira must fall, and Edmund will be mine.”


THE MUMMY. 83
CHAPTER III.
THE evening of the day on which Prince
Ferdinand and Lord Edmund were committed
to prison, Sir Ambrose, as he was writing in his
study, was startled by a loud scream; and flying
to the spot from whence it proceeded, he found
Clara lying upon the ground insensible, whilst
Abelard was stooping over her, and endea-
vouring to render her some assistance.
“Good God!” cried Sir Ambrose, “what
is the matter P”
“It is all owing to the carelessness of the
domestic assistants at the next door,” replied
Abelard. “No. 7, is just come back from
Brighton; and one of the assistants being occu-


84 The MUMMY.
pied in making observations on the sky, instead
of minding what he was doing, pushed the house
a little on one side as it was slipping into the
sockets ; and poking their horizontal spout
through our library window, they have knocked
down this shelf of books, and frightened poor
Miss Clara out of her wits.”
“Stupid idiots,” said the baronet; “they
might have killed her if the books had fallen
upon her.”
“I beg your pardon, Sir Ambrose,” said the
culprit, putting his head through the window;
“I do not conceive Miss Montagu would
have been injured even if the books had fallen
upon her. The weight of her body, I should
apprehend, must be nearly equivalent to that
of the books; consequently, the resistance she
was capable of opposing, being fully equal to
the blow she would have received, the effect
must have been neutralized.”
“Confound your explanations!” said Sir
Ambrose, whose anger was increased tenfold
by this speech ; ‘you’ve killed my niece, and
now you want to drive me distracted. Clara,


THE MUMMY. 85.
my dear Clara ! open your eyes, my love;
are you hurt?”
“Oh, my dear uncle ſ” sighed Clara, “ Ed-
mund is in prison, and he certainly will be
beheaded.”
“In prison, child ! you must be dreaming.”
“Indeed I am not, uncle: I heard the men
who are placing the adjoining house say so.
He has fought with Prince Ferdinand in the
palace garden.”
“My boy, my darling boy ſ” cried Sir Am-
brose, and rushed out of the room in despair.
“Follow him, for Heaven's sake, follow him,
Abelard,” said Clara. The worthy butler
obeyed, wringing his hands, and lifting his
eyes up to heaven; whilst Clara remained per-
fectly motionless, and apparently absorbed in
thought.
“I will save him,” said she after a short
pause, “ or perish in the attempt.”
In the bitterest anguish of mind, Sir Am-
brose hastened to the palace; but he was re-
fused admittance, as he was informed the
Queen was in a high fever. He inquired for


86 THE MUMMY.
his friend the duke; he too was invisible, his
late attack having placed his life in imminent
danger. Dr. Coleman was in attendance on
the Queen; and the lords of the council, though
they affected to sympathize with the unfortu-
nate father, evidently, though covertly, re-
joiced at the disgrace of their most powerful
rival. Repulsed on every side, Sir Ambrose
now proceeded to the prison; but here also
he was refused admittance, and sadly and
slowly he returned home in despair, resting
his sole remaining hopes upon the advice and
assistance of Father'Morris, upon whose gigan-
tic strength of mind he was accustomed impli-
citly to rely in all the impotency of age and
misery.
The prison to which Ferdinand and Lord
Edmund had been conveyed was situated in
a close disagreeable part of the city of London,
called Kensington. It had been formerly a
palace, and had been surrounded by a noble
park miscalled a garden. The devastating
hand of improvement had however, as usual,
waged war against all the sublimer charms of


THE MUMMY. 87
nature, and the majestic beauties of Kensing-
ton fell victims to its fury. Narrow, unwhole-
some streets now rose where spreading oaks had
once stretched forth their venerable arms, and
verdant lawns had become dirty causeways;
whilst ponds were turned to water pipes, and
Jacob's well kept clean a common sewer. As
Ferdinand and Edmund, however, had never
seen Kensington in its pristine glories, they
could not now regret the change : and it was
to them neither more nor less than a place of
confinement, a spot very few people show any
manifest relish for.
Immediately upon their arrival, Prince Fer-
dinand and Lord Edmund had their wounds
dressed by the automaton steam surgeon be-
longing to the prison, which, being properly
arranged and wound up, staunched the blood,
spread the plaisters, and affixed the bandages
with as much skill as though it had done no-
thing but walk a hospital all its life. As soon
as these operations were performed, the pri-
soners were locked up in separate cells, and left
to meditate upon their situations.


88 THE MUMMY.
“Good Heavens !” cried Ferdinand, looking
round with astonishment at the elegant apart-
ment he was shown into, adorned with a painted
velvet carpet, silk curtains, and chairs and
tables inlaid with brass and ivory; whilst a
sumptuous canopy hung over a bed of down
on one side, and divers little Cupids supported
lights, held back curtains, and performed nu-
merous other useful offices in different corners.
“Can this be a prison ? Neither Paris nor
Vienna possess palaces half so splendid ſ”
The surprise of Ferdinand was natural, as he
was still almost a stranger in England, and did
not know that our happy island had been long
blest with a race of people who thought prisons
should be made agreeable residences, and had
gone on improving them till they had ended in
making them temples of luxury. In spite of
all the conveniences of his prison, however,
Ferdinand was perfectly wretched. He could
not imagine what reason Lord Edmund had
had for fastening a quarrel upon him; for, as
his passion for Elvira, though violent, had been
quite as evanescent as that he had formerly


THE MUMMY. 89
entertained for Rosabella, he had not the least
idea of having excited Lord Edmund's jealousy.
Fatigued at length with forming fruitless con-
jectures, he threw himself upon his bed of
down, and soon lost the remembrance of his
cares in a refreshing slumber.
In the mean time, Clara was revolving in her
mind the best method of putting in practice
a wild scheme that she had formed, of vi-
siting Prince Ferdinand in prison. She did
not dare confide her plan to any one, for she
feared that anybody she might consult would
either laugh at her folly or betray her secret.
Besides, to obtain any assistance, she must give
some motive for her conduct; and as Clara did
not exactly know her own reasons for thus
acting, it was quite impossible she could make
out a case to satisfy another. To go, however,
she was determined; and when the family of
her uncle were all retired, she wrapped herself
in a large mantle, and with some difficulty con-
trived to reach the street. The night was cold
and dark; a thick mist fell, and Clara seemed
chilled to the heart; yet a feeling she could not


90 THE MUMMY.
account for, urged her on. Clara was young
and romantic ; she loved Prince Ferdinand,
and she fancied him in danger. How she was
to save him she knew not, and yet it was solely
the hope of saving him that urged her forward.
She had discovered he was confined at Ken-
sington, and thither she bent her steps:—but
as she passed the palace, she found a crowd of
balloons floating around it, laden with persons
whose anxiety respecting the Queen had kept
them waiting, and induced them to besiege her
door personally with their inquiries; whilst the
lighted flambeaux, belonging to these ačrial ve-
hicles, flashed brightly in the air, and looked
like a multitude of dancing stars, as they ra-
pidly crossed and recrossed each other above
her head.
This little incident completed poor Clara's
bewilderment; and, terrified lest she should be
seen and recognized, she hurried on without
exactly knowing where she was going, till, per-
plexed by the different appearance the streets
seemed to assume in the darkness, and her own
fears, she found to her unspeakable dismay


THE MUMMY. 91
that she had lost her road. In the greatest agi-
tation and distress, she now wandered to and
fro, whilst her embarrassment was increased
every moment by the ill-timed raillery of the
passers by. At last, she became quite sur-
rounded by a group of people, who assailed
her with so many questions and jokes, that the
poor girl, quite overpowered, stopped short,
and burst into tears.
“Och and what are ye about to be after
disturbing a poor young cratur like that,”
cried the well-known voice of Father Murphy,
as the friar's portly figure was seen bustling
through the mob. “What are ye after there *
Don't you see the poor thing has lost her way
in the darkness; and if ye bother her so, how
d'ye think she’ll ever be able to find it P’’
Never did any music sound so harmoniously
in Clara's ears, as the father's rich deep brogue;
and darting forwards she threw herself at his
feet, and, clasping her arms round his knees,
she exclaimed—“Oh save me ! I am Clara!
Clara Montagu !”
“Clara !” cried Father Murphy, in the ut-


92 THE MUMMY.
most astonishment. “Clara! why, what in
the name of Heaven brings you out, child, at
this hour of the night?”
“Oh! don't ask me, father,” returned Clara,
gasping for breath; “that is, I will tell you
presently. But take me away; for the love
of the blessed Virgin, save me from these
men '"
“Come here, my child,” said the Father,
drawing her arm within his own, and walking
away with her; “let us lave these people. And
now,” continued he, when they were already at
some distance from the crowd, “you must tell
me, child, what brings ye here?”
This question, though it was a very natural
one for the friar to ask, was beyond Clara's
power to answer. In fact, she trembled so
dreadfully, that she could scarcely stand; and
when she attempted to speak, her teeth chat-
tered in her head so violently, that she could
not articulate a syllable. “Poor thing,” mut-
tered the compassionate priest, after waiting a
few minutes in vain for an answer, “she'll be
better presently.”


THE MUMMY. 93
All now was dark, and they walked slowly
on some paces without speaking, when four
bright flashes from a neighbouring clock an-
nounced the completion of some hour, and the
next instant the solemn deep-toned bell dis-
tinctly pronounced the word “one,” and then
all again was silent.
“I had no fancy it was so late,” said the
father, whose disposition was naturally too
cheerful to let him ever remain long silent.
“Did you think it was one o'clock, Clara P
I little thought I should ever be wandering
with you, dear, in the streets at such a time of
night. I can't help fancying it's all a dream,
any how : so speak, darling, if you can, and tell
me all about it."
Clara felt still more faint, and only replied
by clinging yet more firmly to the friar's arm.
Father Murphy was frightened and thought
she was going to die.—“Oh murther ſ” cried
he, “what will I do? she brathing her last,
sweet cratur, and nobody by to help her, and
I not knowing how to comfort her.”
The delicate form of Clara seemed every


94 THE MUMMY.
instant to become more heavy, as she still clung
almost unconsciously to the friar's arm, and
gasped feebly for breath.
“Oh what will I do? what will I do 2" re-
peated the poor father, looking eagerly around
for aid : all however was dark, and gloomy
and silent as the grave. Suddenly, however,
a bright meteor-like substance appeared at the
edge of the horizon, and the friar, to his un-
speakable transport, discovered it to be a patent
night fire-stage balloon. He hailed it, and in a
few moments it was hovering over their heads;
the accommodation ladder was let down, and
Clara and her companion having ascended to
the car, the balloon again rapidly sailed along.
“Where are we going?” asked Clara faintly.
“Och" returned the friar, “and that's
what I never thought of asking, darling; but
Heaven be praised that ye are so much better
as to be able to bother yourself about it.”
“We are going to Kensington, miss,” said
the balloon conductor.
“ Kensington 1"
hands together in transport—“ thank God "
repeated Clara, clapping her


THE MUMMY. 95
“It’s a very good thing to be thankful
any how,” said the father; “but I own I
don't see why you should cry out in such rap-
ture, when you find we are going the wrong
road.”
“Oh no, no, father,” returned Clara, “not
the wrong road; for Kensington is the gaol
of all my wishes.”
“Poor thing ! she is certainly distracted,”
thought Father Murphy. “The loss of her
cousin has deprived her of her senses; but I
will let her take her own way; perhaps she'll
be better presently.”
“Where will you like to be set down f"
asked the man.
“Near the prison,” cried Clara eagerly.
“Near the prison " repeated Father Mur-
phy, shrugging his shoulders. “Ay, ay, I was
right.”
Not another word was spoken till the balloon
stopped and the passengers were set down: all
still was dark, save a land-light that gleamed
from the battlements of the prison, and showed
a tall, clumsy-looking figure that marched with


96 THE MUMMY.
heavy, measured steps to and fro before the
gates, whilst at a little distance lay a party of
soldiers bivouacking. Clara shuddered as she
looked at them, and hastily turning away,
timidly approached the figure, and begged it
to let her into the prison. It continued its
march, but as it did not speak, she attempted
to pass by it.
“No admittance,” said the figure, as she
touched it, in trying to reach the door.
“I implore you,” cried Clara, wringing her
hands in agony.
The figure did not reply, but continued its
solemn tramp unmoved; its hollow steps falling
heavily upon the ear at regular intervals. Dri-
ven to despair, Clara again endeavoured to
rush past it; but she was again repulsed as
the figure reiterated its monotonous “No
admittance!” Clara threw herself upon her
knees before it in agony.
“Clara! Clara dear!” cried Father Murphy,
attempting to raise her, “ you are certainly
quite beside yourself; don't you see it is an
automaton P nothing can stop it but the proper


THE MUMMY. 97
check-string, and that is in that little guard
house, round which you see the soldiers lying.”
“Then they can admit me,” cried Clara
wildly, “they are men, and will surely listen
to me:” then before the father could stop her,
she flew towards them, and throwing herself at
the feet of the commanding officer, implored
his pity. The officer was a man of feeling,
and, touched with compassion at her evident an-
guish, had promised to grant her petition ere
Father Murphy, who was too fat to move with
much agility, could reach them. “Thank you!
thank you !” cried Clara, kissing the officer's
hand. “God bless you !”
The officer smiled at her warmth. “Wait
here a little,” said he: “I will soon return and
admit you, if I obtain permission; but State
Prisoners are ordered to be guarded so closely,
that I dare not take any step respecting them,
without consulting the governor.”
“So then you'll get in after all,” said Father
Murphy, who had approached near enough to
hear this last speech. “Well, well, what a
world this is we live in Here have been
dukes and princes begging for admission un-
WOL. III. F


98 THE MUMMY.
successfully, and yet a little saucy girl, only
because she happens to be half distracted, is
let in at the very first word.”
Clara did not reply; but wrapping herself in
her cloak, sate down on a large stone near the
gates to wait the officer's return. The solemn
automaton had been stopped for a moment to
allow him to pass, but it had now resumed its
slow measured step, and Clara's heart sickened.
at the sound. The mist cleared away, and
the night became fine, though cold, whilst the
moon having struggled through the clouds that
rapidly scudded across the sky, shed her pale
feeble light upon the scene. Clara shuddered
as she looked at the dark heavy building be-
hind her, and, wrapping her cloak tighter round
her, fixed her eyes anxiously upon the sky,
watching the varied shapes assumed by the
clouds as they drifted along, and sighing hea-
vily as they passed.
“Now tell me, dear,”
said Father Murphy,
seating himself beside her, “what ye mane to
say to yere cousin when ye get in to see him.
Spake freely, for the devil a word the spalpeens


THE MUMMY. 99
yonder shall hear of what ye're going to say, by
rason of their being all fast asleep.”
“My cousin (" exclaimed Clara. “Who?
what P”
“Your cousin Edmund, that ye're come so
far to see,” resumed the father.
“My cousin!” replied Clara; “Oh I ay,
true. It was my cousin that fought with him,
you know. But I don't want to see my cou-
sin.”
“Not want to see your cousin ſ” reiterated
Father Murphy, his eyes almost starting from
his head in the excess of his astonishment.
“Why did you come here then *
“To-to see Prince Ferdinand,” said Clara
in a faltering voice, looking down, and blushing.
Father Murphy's astonishment was now far
too great for words, and he could only look at
her in speechless horror as he revolved some
plan in his mind for getting her quietly back to
her friends.
“How wild she looks ſ” thought he: “ she
must be put in confinement; there is no saying
to what lengths, so strange a delusion may carry
her.”
F 2


100 THE MUMMY.
Whilst the poor father was thus cogitating
and repeating to himself divers coaxing forms
of words, by the help of which he hoped to
persuade her to return, the automaton again
stopped, and, the prison door flying open, the
officer beckoned Clara to advance. She flew
towards him. “Clara ! Clara dear !” said
Father Murphy, “had you not better go
home?” But Clara heard him not ; she was
already in the prison; the doors had closed,
and the automaton sentinel had again resumed
his measured, beaten track.
“Oh dear! oh dear!” cried the unhappy
Father Murphy, “what will I do? How will
I get her out P Poor Sir Ambrose—he will
break his heart. I dare say he knows nothing
about it. These kind of fits always come on
suddenly.”
Thus lamenting, the worthy father walked
up and down before the prison in a state of
pitiable distress, till a bright thought flashed
across his mind, and he set off as fast as his
trembling limbs could carry him to put it in
execution.
In the mean time Clara had followed the


THE MUMMY. 101
officer into the prison, and her heart beat faster
as she advanced, for her undertaking now ap-
peared to her in a new light, and she trembled
as she thought of the interpretation the Prince
might put upon her boldness. It was, how-
ever, too late to repent ; she had not even time
for hesitation. The officer is already at the
door, the bolts are withdrawn, and Clara finds
herself in the presence of Ferdinand. Con-
fused and horror-struck at what she had done,
she, however, scarcely knew where she was,
every thing seemed to swim before her eyes,
and, gasping for breath, she caught firm hold of
the door-way for support.
For some moments, Ferdinand was not aware
of her presence, as he sat gloomily resting his
head upon his hand, his elbow supported by
a table, upon which lay a variety of papers,
whilst Hans, a favourite servant, who had fol-
lowed him from Germany, stood beside him.
Awed by his abstraction, and abashed by the
presumption she had been guilty of, in intru-
ding, unsolicited, upon his presence, Clara still
stood irresolute, fearing alike to advance or to
recede, till the officer, impatient at her delay,
cried, in a loud voice—


102 THE MUMMY.
“Walk in, if you please, Ma'am, that I may
re-lock the door. I shall return to let you out
in an hour.”
The sound of the officer's voice caught the
attention of Ferdinand, and he looked towards
the door-way, from the shade of which the
trembling Clara was now forced to advance.
“Miss Montagu,” cried Prince Ferdinand,
who had seen her at one of Elvira's parties, and
had thought her so pretty as to inquire her
name, “this is an unhoped-for pleasure; I
did not expect this.”
“I came—I came—” stammered Clara: and
here she stopped short, for upon recollection she
really could not tell why she did come.
“I am delighted to see you,” said the prince,
smiling, and taking her hand, “whatever
may be the cause that has procured me this
honour.”
“I–I—I—had—rather—sit—down,” stam-
mered Clara, without having the least idea what
she was talking about.
“Well then, we will sit down,” said Ferdi-
mand: and, gently placing her upon a chair, he
drew one to her side, and again took her hand.


THE MUMMY. 103
His touch thrilled through Clara's whole
frame. She felt his ardent gaze upon her face,
and dreadfully agitated, fearing she knew not
what, she turned away from him, and tried to
withdraw her hand.
“I — I — I — believe—I must go,” said
she.
“So soon,”
cried Ferdinand, again smiling,
for it was impossible to mistake the cause of
her confusion. “I thought the gaoler said he
should not come again for you in less than an
hour.”
“Did he ſ” repeated Clara, quite uncon-
scious of what she said, and without daring to
look at him.
“My dear Miss Montagu, will you not be-
stow one look upon me?” cried Ferdinand, in
his most insinuating tone, sinking upon one
knee before her, and gently encircling her slen-
der waist with his arm, as he turned her towards
him. Clara could not resist his imploring
eyes; her heart beat, she blushed, she trembled,
she looked upon the ground ; when suddenly
Ferdinand uttered a faint cry, and started upon
his feet. Clara gazed at him with wonder, for


104 THE MUMMY.
that countenance, so lately beaming with love
and tenderness, now seemed aghast with horror.
She followed the direction of his eyes, and be-
held in the door-way the giant form of Cheops;
whilst the Mummy's appalling laugh resound-
ed in his ears. Involuntarily Clara shuddered,
and hid her face in her hands.
“By the silver bow of Isis "cried Cheops
tauntingly, “I admire your charity, Miss Mon-
tagu. Why do you hide your face? But so
it is, true merit is always bashful, and the bene-
ficent spirit that prompted Clara Montagu to
visit the distressed, and even prefer a stranger
to her own cousin, makes her blush to avow her
goodness.”
“Mercy mercy!” cried Clara, falling at
his feet. “You know my heart, and I implore
your assistance.”
“And you shall have it,” returned Cheops.
“As for you,” continued he, addressing the
prince; “what is your wish P”
“Deliver me from this prison, and make
Clara mine, and I will be your slave.”
“It is well,” said the Mummy. “Clara, you
must retire with me; this is no place for you.


THE MUMMY. 105
As for you, prince, Lord Maysworth and Fa-
ther Murphy will be admitted to your presence
in the course of a few hours, to consult with
you respecting your defence. Follow their
advice, and fear nothing. Rely upon me, and
you shall be safe. Come, Clara ! you must
return to the house of your uncle. He is
prepared to receive you, and will forgive your
absence, as Father Murphy will, ere we reach
him, have fully explained its cause: and Sir
Ambrose will overlook your folly, in considera-
tion of your youth. Adieu, Prince 1 we shall
meet again!”
The Mummy and Clara now withdrew, leav-
ing the prince's mind much relieved, as his
confidence in his new friend was unbounded;
whilst the discovery he had made of the devoted
love of Clara soothed his troubled spirit, and
robbed his confinement of half its bitterness.


106 THE MUMMY.
CHAPTER IV.
IN the mean time, Lord Edmund’s mind had
been tortured by the bitterest anguish, and his
agitation, added to the pain of his wounds, had
produced a considerable degree of fever. The
conduct of Elvira, and the anxiety she had
evinced respecting the prince, seemed to con-
firm his worst suspicions. “O God! O God!”
cried he, as he paced his prison in agony; “I
could have borne any thing but this—it is too,
too much. By Heaven I could sell myself to
everlasting perdition to be revenged.”
As he spoke, he heard the key of his dungeon
door grate in the lock, and he shuddered, for
he almost fancied some hideous spectre would
appear in answer to his call, and he felt inde-
scribably relieved when he heard the gentle,


T H E MUMMY. 107
insinuating tones of Father Morris. Sweet is
the voice of friendship to the disappointed spi-
rit, and soft falls the balm of consolation from
those we love, upon the wounded heart. Ed-
mund's bosom thus throbbed with transport
when he saw the reverend father, and, throwing
his arms round his neck, he sobbed like a child.
“My dear Edmund,” said the priest, also
excessively affected, for he really loved Ed-
mund, “it breaks my heart to see you thus—
cruel Elvira !”
“Oh, blame her not, father ſ” exclaimed Ed-
mund; “I cannot bear that even you should
blame her. She is deceived—she is under the
influence of infatuation. We cannot control
our hearts, you know, father.”
“But that she should be capable of loving
another, when your services, your devoted affec-
tion—”
“Alas! alas! father, love is not to be bought
by services. All she could give she has given ;
I possess her friendship and esteem.”
“And are you satisfied with those P’
“Satisfied Oh heavens !”
“At any rate, I suppose you could bear to


108 THE MUMMY.
see her married to Prince Ferdinand, if you
thought it would contribute to her happiness.”
“Married to him ſ” cried Edmund, gnash-
ing his teeth in agony—“married to him
Oh any thing but that: but I will never live to
see it.”
“You are not likely,” calmly returned the
priest; “for, as the state requires a victim, and
Elvira will certainly not resign her Endymion,
you will doubtless be sacrificed to save him.”
“Hold, hold !” cried Edmund, driven to mad-
ness by the thought; “do not dare to re-
peat those cursed words; I could die to serve
her, but I will not be sacrificed. What am I
to be made a tool, a child, an idiot?—destined
to labour for my rival, and denied even the
poor satisfaction of showing the extent of my
devotion ? But I will not die so calmly; Elvira
shall not forget me—I will see her—she shall
at least know my sentiments; and if she treats
me with scorn, I will die, it is true, but it shall
be by my own hand, and at her feet. I will
not be sacrificed—I will not steal out of life
like a common criminal.—No ; the world shall
know my wrongs—I will be heard, I will not


THE MUMMY. 109
fall unnoticed and unknown. Take this chain,
Father Morris; give it to her, and tell her I
implore, by the recollection of the moment when
she bestowed it upon me, that she will grant
me an interview. If she refuse me—but no, no,
she cannot.”
Father Morris took the chain, and, promis-
ing to see the Queen, withdrew, leaving Lord
Edmund in a state of indescribable agitation.
He was not left long, however, to his solitary
reflections, for, as he paced with hasty strides
his prison, and turned as he reached the wall,
the Mummy, Cheops, stood before him.
“Ah, wretch 1” cried Edmund, “what brings
you here P Came you to torment your vic-
tims ?”
“I came to help and comfort the unfortu-
nate,” said the Mummy.
“Begone!” cried Lord Edmund, “I do
not want your pity, and your proffered help I
>y
SCOrn.
“Spare your scorn, proud Lord,” returned
Cheops, “it will not aid you, though I
might.”
“I want no aid ſ” exclaimed Lord Edmund,


110 THE MUMMY.
“and, least of all, such help as you can give me.
I despise alike your pity and your vengeance.
Come what will, I rely upon myself. Conscious
of my own integrity, I do not fear to fall,
though demons should assail me. Avaunt then,
fiend, for over me thou hast no power ſ”
Cheops burst into one of his fiendish laughs,
and exclaiming, “That time will show,” dis-
appeared.
Edmund felt relieved by his absence, though,
in spite of his boasted firmness, and the sove-
reign contempt he expressed for the Mummy,
he could not prevent his mind from dwelling
upon the circumstance. The appearance of
Cheops, indeed, never failed to excite a deep
and powerful interest in the minds of all who
conversed with him, whilst his appalling laugh
struck terror to the firmest breast, and even
those who affected to despise his menaces could
not prevent their minds from dwelling upon
his words. This irresistible power had its full
effect upon the mind of Edmund, and, though
he endeavoured in vain to shake it off and
rouse his mind to think of other things, still
the gigantic Mummy seemed to stalk before


T H E MUMMY. 111
him. In vain did he strive to picture to him-
self his interview with the Queen; the hideous
features of the Mummy rose in his imagination
instead of the lovely form of Elvira, till at
length, fatigued and exhausted, he threw him-
self upon his couch : yet even in his dreams
the same image haunted him, and the same
words rang in his ears.
Whilst these scenes were taking place in the
prison, Elvira was suffering all the torments
of a burning fever; she was, indeed, seriously
ill: the excessive agitation of her mind, and
the horror she felt at the idea of being the
murderer of Ferdinand, had overpowered her
reason; and by the time Dr. Coleman arrived,
(he having been sent for on the first alarm,) she
was quite delirious. The thought that she
alone had caused the danger of Ferdinand, oc-
cupied her mind; and, not being able to bear
the idea that her folly might occasion the de-
struction of a human being, she raved of him
incessantly, and repeatedly offered to sacrifice
her life to preserve his.
Her ravings were heard by her domestics,
and being neither exactly understood, nor cor-


112 THE MUMMY.
rectly repeated, their reports, aided by the art-
ful insinuations of Father Morris, soon pro-
duced rumours throughout the city, that the
Queen was violently in love with Prince Fer-
dinand, and had gone mad because the law did
not permit her to marry him. The effect this
idea produced was prodigious; it was implicitly
believed, for the lower classes are naturally
fond of the marvellous, and, when there are
two sides to a question, are very seldom dis-
posed to err by judging too favourably ; whilst
the indignation it excited was unbounded. In
some cases, men are more tenacious of their
prejudices than of their rights. Thus, then,
though the English, by consenting to the mar-
riage of their Queen, had deprived themselves
of the important right of electing their own So-
vereign; they considered what they had dome as
trifling, when compared with the horror they felt
at the thought of submitting to a foreign King:
whilst the emissaries of Rosabella, taking ad-
vantage of this feeling, by alternately playing
upon their fears, and magnifying their terrors,
worked them up almost to a state of despe-
ration.


THE MUMMY. 113
The party of Elvira, in the mean time, was
quite unable to stem the torrent opposed to it.
The Queen and her father were both too ill to
leave their beds, and Lord Edmund was in
prison.
“What will become of us P’ whispered
Emma to Dr. Coleman, one day in the chamber
of Elvira, when she fancied the Queen to be
asleep. “To-morrow Prince Ferdinand and
Lord Edmund are to be tried, and, they say, not
even the Queen has power to pardon them if
they are convicted.”
“It is but too true,” returned Dr. Coleman ;
“they must die, and the punishment is horrid.
The criminal is doomed to be burned by a slow
fire.”
“Horrible ſ” cried Emma; “and this only
for drawing a sword in the vicinity of a royal
palace.”
“Alas ! that is not all ! Ferdinand is ac-
cused of wishing to marry the Queen; and
the laws that devote to a horrid death the man
who shall presume to address her in the lan-
guage of love, yet hold good against fo-
reigners.”


114 THE MIUM MY.
“I cannot believe Prince Ferdinand ever
dared even think of the Queen,” said Emma.
“God only can judge the heart,” observed
Dr. Coleman; “but, I am sorry to say, the
proofs are very strong against him: I have
heard, from undoubted authority, that persons
will swear they heard him absolutely make
love to the Queen; and that she promised to
marry him if she could obtain the consent of
her people.”
“It is false!” cried Elvira, starting from
her bed, and standing suddenly between them—
“false as hell ! Prince Ferdinand never ad-
dressed a single syllable breathing of love to
me in his existence. He is the victim of a
mistake, or rather of my folly; but he shall
not die—I will save him, or perish in the at-
tempt t”
The calm, decided tone in which Elvira
spoke, and her spectral appearance, produced
an almost magical effect upon her auditors,
and they stood awestruck and aghast, whilst
Elvira continued:—
“Dress me, Emma; I will see my people;
I will appeal to them myself. It is the day


THE MUMMY. 115
for receiving petitions in Blackheath Square :
there will be a multitude assembled. I will
go there in person, and address them.”
“It is the raving of delirium,” whispered
Emma to Dr. Coleman; “what shall I do?”
“Do you dare to hesitate P” said Elvira,
whose sense of hearing, sharpened by her recent
illness, enabled her to catch distinctly the words
of her favourite.
“Humour her,” returned Dr. Coleman; “in
her present state, opposition would be fatal.”
“It would indeed be fatal,” said Elvira,
seating herself in a large arm-chair, whilst the
temporary colour her previous exertion had
given her, faded from her cheeks, and she
looked the image of death.
“She will faint " cried Emma, flying for
aid.
“It is impossible for her to go in this state ſ"
said the doctor.
“Impossible ſ” cried Elvira, starting up
wildly, and her cheeks again glowing with the
deepest crimson, whilst her eyes sparkled with
superhuman fire; “what is impossible to a de-
termined spirit P Haste haste Emma, and
let me go, whilst I have yet strength ; for go I


116 THE MUMMY.
will, though death await me there. My rash-
ness has endangered the life of Prince Ferdi-
nand, and I will die to save him "
Farther opposition was useless, and the doc-
tor retiring, Emma hastily attired her mis-
tress. The people were expected to assemble
as usual in the Square, though, from the illness
of the Queen, a deputation of nobles had been
appointed to receive the petitions. The feel-
ings of Elvira were wrought up to an unna-
tural energy: every limb trembled with agita-
tion, and every nerve thrilled with impatience,
whilst she was dressing; and when she was
ready, she descended the staircase, leaning
upon the arm of Emma, her cheeks flushed
with a hectic glow, her lips quivering, and her
eyes shining with unusual brightness.
At the foot of the staircase they met Cheops.
He stedfastly regarded the Queen, and smiled
at her agitated appearance with his usual calm
SCOrn.
“Oh ſ” cried Elvira, the moment she beheld
him, “my pride is humbled. I own I love Sey-
mour. Aid me to save Ferdinand, and I am
thy slave.”
“ Appeal to your people,” said Cheops, his


THE M UMMY. 117
eyes flashing with proud triumph; “your feel-
ings will give you eloquence. But do not
confine yourself to obtaining the power to par-
don Ferdinand. Demand to be free ; the peo-
ple will refuse you nothing. Tell them, first,
that they have insulted you by giving you per-
mission to marry, and then dictating whom you
shall choose. Require perfect freedom. They
will comply, and bow their necks beneath your
footstool. But rest not satisfied with any thing
short of actual submission. Endure no con-
ditions. This is the moment to decide your
future destiny. Act with energy, and you will
be happy. But if you falter, destruction is
your portion.”
“I will obey you to the letter,” said Elvira,
as she walked with a firm step past him, and
sprang into her balloon, followed by Emma.
“Oh, my dear, dear mistress ſ” said that
faithful confidant, “do not listen to that
wretch ; he is a serpent sent to wile you to
destruction. Do be advised ; do return and
relinquish this mad enterprize.”
Elvira did not reply. Her feelings were too
highly wrought to permit her to speak, and


118 THE MUMMY.
bending eagerly forward, she watched, with an
impatient eye, the streets and houses they flit-
ted over, scarcely able to bear the agony of
suspense during the time necessarily lost in the
transit, and seeming every instant to long to
precipitate herself forward to the goal of her
wishes.
The balloon now rose unusually high,
whilst masses of fleecy clouds hid the town
from their view, and looked like flocks of sheep
beneath their feet.
“We are going wrong
!” cried Elvira, in
agony; “we shall be too late.”
“No, no,” said Emma, “I feel we descend
again—we are arrived.”
And as she spoke, the balloon sank rapidly,
whilst the clouds opening, discovered the im-
mense Square below them, apparently paved
with human heads.
“Thank God! we are not too late 1" cried
Elvira, clasping her hands together, and sink-
ing back upon her seat; whilst the balloon-
conductor directed the machine to the palace
usually appointed for the reception of the
Queen. Elvira did not wait to arrange her


THE MUMMY. 119
dress; she did not wait to take refreshment,
or even to rest a single moment from her fa-
tigue, but she rushed upon the terrace the in-
stant she quitted the balloon, and presented
herself before her astonished people, every limb
quivering from the violence of her agitation.
The crowd was immense. The extensive
space looked one compact mass of human heads;
but Elvira's courage did not fail her. Though
she had now no Lord Edmund to support her,
and no father or applauding friends to listen as
she spoke, yet the enthusiasm of the moment
gave her strength. She forgot every thing but
the cause that brought her there; and her mind,
thrown back upon its own resources, rallied its
energies, and seemed to gather courage from the
thought; whilst her sylphic figure appeared to
dilate in size, and assume an almost awful dig-
nity from the grandeur of the spirit that ani-
mated it, as she thus stood before her subjects,
her life or death hanging upon their will.
Her arrival had been hailed by the loudest
shouts of wonder and of joy; but when the mul-
titude saw she wished to address them, the tu-
mult was hushed, and they waited in breathless


120 THE MUMMY.
silence for her speech. The deep stillness that
prevailed amongst this so lately bustling crowd
of human beings, and the thought that every
ear and every eye were turned towards her,
slightly affected the nerves of Elvira, and her
lips trembled as she began to speak; but as she
became warmed with her subject, her voice gra-
dually assumed its natural depth, melody, and
sweetness; whilst its full tones sank deep into
the hearts of her auditors, and carried convic-
tion as she went on.
She first appealed to their gratitude; and,
after alluding to all she had done to secure
peace and plenty to their domestic firesides, she
reverted to the misery of her own situation,
before the laws had been revoked that had con-
demned her to celibacy. She powerfully painted
the harshness of the destiny that debarred her
from the blessings she had so lavishly bestowed
upon others. She alone, of all her subjects, had
been destined to the wretchedness of a solitary
life, unsoothed by the tender cares of a husband,
uncheered by the affection of children. She
alone had been doomed to wither away her
youth in cheerless widowhood. Their fiat had


THE MUMMY. 121
changed her destiny; but was it the part of a
noble and generous people, whilst they confer-
red a benefit to encumber it with restrictions?
No; she was confident the liberal spirit of the
English would spurn the sordid thought, and
shrink from such a manner of obliging. “Make
me free ſ” said she, “really, absolutely free,
and I promise solemnly you shall never have
occasion to blush for your Queen.”
As she spoke, her cheeks glowed, and her eyes
sparkled with unwonted fire; whilst the people,
struck by the suddenness of her appearance,
and her enthusiasm, and carried away by the
force of the sentiment that could metamor-
phose the tender, gentle Elvira into the exalted
being before them, shouted applause; whilst
cries rang loudly through the air of “Long
live Elvira !” “Marry whom you list, we shall
still be your slaves | Still be our Queen, and
let your children and children's children reign
over us, when you shall be no more.”
Delight danced in the bright eyes of Elvira,
and a blush of pleasure mantled on her cheek,
as she gracefully thanked them. “And yet,
my friends,” continued she, in a fainter voice,
VOL. III. G


122 THE MUMMY.
“there is another privilege I would demand at
your hands. I am called free and absolute,
yet I am chained by the laws. Unloose these
bands ; give me at least the power to pardon.
I know, that if I wished it, I might reverse these
laws at my will, as the power of the Queen that
made them was not greater than that which
you have bestowed upon me. But I wish not
to do so : I would rather accept that from
your hands as a favour which I might exact as
a right. Give me then, my people, the most
blessed attribute of royalty. Let me pardon.
Can you refuse me this?”
“No, no " shouted the people with enthu-
siasm; “we are your slaves | Do with us as
you list. The laws are yours; and though you
change them at your pleasure, we will obey !
Long live Elvira ! Elvira for ever ! From
henceforth we own no law but her will !”
Elvira's rapture was unbounded; she forgot
the unstable nature of the vox populi, and
triumphed in the devotion of her people; whilst
they, in return, shouted forth her praise, as she
warmly expressed her gratitude, in tumultuous
transports. The air rang with acclamations;


THE MUMMY. 123
and Elvira, looking proudly round upon her
obsequious subjects, felt herself indeed a Queen.
There is perhaps no sensation in the world more
delightful than thus to feel oneself the idol of
the multitude, to see every eye beaming with ad-
miration, to hear every voice resounding praise,
and to know every heart is devoted to one
object. The human mind cannot enjoy a
higher gratification than in the consciousness of
power; whilst the man thus exalted, seems
raised to the level of a divinity, and triumphs
in the worship of his fellow-creatures: but, alas !
such glory is too much for mortals, and nothing
can be more evanescent, or rather, nothing a
more certain prelude to disgrace.
Elvira, however, knew not that her popu-
larity was too great to be lasting. She impli-
citly believed her people would continue to feel
what they now expressed, and, catching the
spirit of the moment, she persuaded them to
sign an abolition of the laws, and a confirmation
of her absolute power. The people obeyed
with rapture; the enthusiasm that animated
them had not yet abated; and even if Elvira
had desired their lives, they would have obeyed.
G 2


124 THE MUMMY.
They considered her inspired, and it seemed
sacrilege even to hesitate to comply with her
commands,
So powerful was the energy of a woman's
will, and so sure it is that a determined spi-
rit may overcome any difficulties when once
roused resolutely to exert itself. Such also is
the influence of beauty and eloquence upon
the human mind, and so weak is judgment
when attacked through the medium of the
Senses.
In the mean time, the council of Elvira had
met in their usual apartment, and were hold-
ing a solemn consultation, previous to going
to receive the petitions, on the propriety of
addressing the people whom they might find
assembled in the Square, respecting the illness
and consequent incapacity for reigning of the
Queen.
“Thinking as I think, and as I am con-
fident every one here must think,” said Lord
Gustavus de Montfort, “there is no middle
course to be pursued : a regency must be ap-
pointed, or the government will be over-
turned.”


THE MUMMY. - 125
“Oh I there is no doubt, we cannot exist
without a regency,” said Lord Noodle.
“Yes, yes! we must have a regency ſ” cried
Lord Doodle.
“It appears to me, to say the least of it,
premature,” observed the Duke of Essex, a
highly respectable nobleman, who had hitherto
observed a cautious neutrality; “I think, be-
fore deciding upon so important a question, we
should at least examine her Majesty's phy-
sicians, and be guided by their report.”
“His Grace is quite right,” said Lord
Noodle.
“We ought to examine the physicians,” said
Lord Doodle.
“One of them has just entered the council-
chamber,”
observed Lord Gustavus; “I pre-
sume he brings the usual daily bulletin of her
Majesty's health: is it your pleasure, my lords,
that he be examined P”
“By all means !" cried all the noble lords
simultaneously, and Dr. Hardman advanced.
“How is her most gracious Majesty P” asked
Lord Gustavus, with his usual solemnity.
“Alas! my lord,” said Dr. Hardman, “her


196 THE MUMMY.
Majesty has slept badly, and is much worse
this morning.”
“Is she still delirious 2" asked the Duke of
Essex.
“Quite, your Grace,” returned the doctor,
shaking his head.
“Then I fear there is no hope 2" said the
duke.
“None !” said Lord Noodle, shaking his
head.
“None !” echoed Lord Doodle, shaking his.
“Thinking as I think, and as I am sure
every one here must think,” said Lord Gus-
tavus, “we must not suffer the interests of
the people to be invaded with impunity. The
constitution requires watching over, and I
consider this a matter that ought to be inquired
into.”
“Then you think the senses of the Queen
irrecoverable P” asked the Duke of Essex, ad-
dressing Dr. Hardman.
“Not irrecoverable, I hope, my lord duke,”
replied the doctor; “though I own her deli-
rium is alarming.”
“What does she rave about,” asked Lord


THE MUMMY, 127
Doodle; curiosity being the only mark he ever
gave of his being a rational animal.
“It is a delicate subject,” returned the doc-
tor; “and if your lordships will excuse me—”
“Oh, no l you must tell us,” said Lord
Doodle.
“Thinking as I think, and as I am sure
every one else ought to think,” said Lord
Gustavus; “concealment in this case would be
a crime.”
“Since your lordships command me,” replied
the doctor, “however reluctant I may be to
betray her Majesty's secrets, it is my duty to
obey. The Queen raves incessantly of Prince
Ferdinand.
“I feared as much,” said the Duke of Essex.
“And do you think if she recovers she'll want
to marry him f" asked Lord Doodle.
“I fear it cannot be doubted, my Lord:”
returned the doctor.
“Then, thinking as I think, and as every
free-born Englishman ought to think,” said
Lord Gustavus, “she will forfeit her crown.”
A deep silence followed this daring speech,
yet, though no one assented to it, no one at-


128 THE MUMMY.
tempted to contradict it. In fact, every man
seemed afraid ofcommitting himself; for, though
every one thought Lord Gustavus would not
have ventured so far, had he not felt assured
the party against the Queen was strong, yet no
one liked to be the first to declare himself her
opponent. This awkward pause was broken by
the entrance of Sir Ambrose and Father Mor-
ris, who came with a message from the Duke of
Cornwall, imploring them not to decide upon
any measure hastily, and informing them that
on the following day his physicians assured him
he would be able to assist their deliberations in
person.
“We all esteem and respect the duke,” said
Lord Gustavus. “But, thinking as I think,
and as I am confident every one who hears me
must think, not even our respect for him ought
to induce us to consent that the Queen should
marry a foreigner! No, no, we must not let
private feelings make us risk the interests of
the people.”
“I dare say they will not be in any danger,”
murmured the soft, insinuating voice of Father
Morris—“I dare say they will run no risk.


THE MUMMY. 129
Foreigners have sometimes been known to re-
spect the interests of a people, and reign as glo-
riously as native-born monarchs.”
“Not often, I believe, father,” said Sir Am-
brose. “At any rate, I am sure it would break
the duke's heart to see his daughter married to
Prince Ferdinand, and I am sure it would break
mine to see him King of England. Weak,
silly Elvira ! I cannot account for her infatua-
tion; and I have no patience with her, for
causing all this misery solely by her folly.”
“You use strong language, Sir Ambrose,”
said the Duke of Essex.
“Not stronger than the occasion requires,
y
my lord duke,” returned the worthy baronet.
“I have known the Queen from her childhood,
and loved her as a daughter; but now—”
“The matter must certainly be inquired
into,” said Lord Gustavus. “It is the duty of
every well-disposed patriotic Englishman not to
suffer the slightest invasion of the constitution.
Our laws are our bulwarks; we ought to die to
defend our laws; and if the Queen be no longer
in a fit state to administer them, or if she
even contemplate the design of putting the ad-
G 5


130 THE MUMMY.
ministration of them into hands in which their
purity will be contaminated, then, thinking as
I think, and as I feel confident every indivi-
dual who hears me must think, or, at least,
ought to think, there can remain only one course
for us to pursue.”
“Perhaps,” said Father Morris, “we may
be deceived, and the delirium of the Queen
may be transient, or, at least, her mentioning
the name of Prince Ferdinand in her ravings
quite accidental. It is not well to be too
rash—”
“Oh, no, reverend father,” replied Lord
Gustavus; “you deceive yourself. Your ab-
straction from the world, and the goodness of
your heart, lead you to judge too favourably of
others. But we, who know the world, see deeper.
You, holy father, can form no idea of the folly
of human passions; you are above their weak-
messes, and cannot suspect that in another which
you are incapable of feeling yourself: but, as I
said before, we, that know the world, see deeper.
Elvira is in love with Prince Ferdinand, and is
quite capable of sacrificing her throne and peo-
ple to the caprices of a romantic passion.”


THE MUMMY. 131
“Impossible !” cried Father Morris, with well-
acted astonishment.
“Is is very true, notwithstanding,” said Lord
Gustavus, shaking his head sagaciously; whilst
his attendant satellites, the Lords Noodle and
Doodle, shook theirs for sympathy.
“Impossible !” cried Sir Ambrose; “ she
cannot surely carry her infatuation to such a
height: she is too noble: but even if she be
so mad, will no one step forward and save her
from destruction ?”
“I do not see how any one can save her, if
such be her intentions,” said the Duke of Es-
sex. “Women are proverbially self-willed ;
and, now that the people have put the laws into
her own hands—”
“The people were cajoled into consent,” ex-
claimed Lord Gustavus; “but if the Queen be
so mad as to intend to marry the prince, she
must lose her throne and suffer death, for the
laws against foreigners remain inexorable”
“Yes, the laws are inexorable !” echoed the
Lords Noodle and Doodle.
“Good Heaven ſ” cried Sir Ambrose, “is
it possible I am in England, and yet hear such


132 THE MUMMY.
barbarous sentiments openly avowed 2 No one
has more right to feel anger at the folly of
Elvira than myself; but even I cannot bear
such cruelty. What! is a young and beauti-
ful woman, in the very flower of her age, to be
doomed to destruction, merely for having shown
a susceptible heart? Forbid it, Heaven And
what are we that we should dare to judge so
harshly and refuse mercy to a fellow-creature?
Are we not all feeble P Do we not all err P. And
if we show such cruelty in judging such a
trifling offence, how shall we expect mercy for
our own more weighty ones P Have mercy,
then. Let us show ourselves men | Let us
dare to exert our reason and throw off the
shackles of prejudice. We boast that the
law in this case makes us free, and arms us
with power against our Sovereign. Let us
use that power, then, and show that we are
really free by daring to act justly. If we do
not, we are slaves |" -
“It cannot be,” said Lord Gustavus; “you
talk well, Sir Ambrose, but words are nothing
against facts. If the Queen intend to marry
Prince Ferdinand, she must either be insane or


THE MUMMY. 133
intend to subvert the constitution; and, in
either case, thinking as I think, and as I am
sure every reasonable person in the kingdom
must think, she is no longer competent to
reign, and is no longer worthy to live. Elo-
quence is a fine thing, and I do not deny
that the worthy baronet speaks fluently ; yet,
notwithstanding all he can say, or indeed all
that can be said, upon the subject, law is
law.”
“Yes, law is law ſ” echoed the repeating
lords.
“Sir Ambrose, I thank you from my soul!”
cried the old Duke of Cornwall, starting from
the midst of the crowd. “You have, indeed,
proved yourself my friend; but I should blush
to think that my daughter was slandered in my
presence, and that I left it to another to under-
take her defence. Yes, gentlemen, Elvira is
slandered—I will venture my life upon her
innocence. Her heart is English, my lords,
thoroughly English ; she will marry no Ger-
man; no—no, my poor, dear Elvira never
dreamed of such a thing; she is innocent.” And
here the poor old man, overpowered by his


134 THE MUMMY.
emotions, could not proceed, but, leaning upon
the shoulder of his friend Sir Ambrose, wept
bitterly. It is hard to see the tears of aged
men; and every one was affected: they had
started at the sudden appearance of the duke
amongst them ; for his gaunt looks and wasted
form, aided by the belief of his serious illness,
gave him more the aspect of a spectre than a
man: and now his trembling voice, and grey
hairs, as he attempted to vindicate his child,
came home to the hearts of his auditors.
“Alas! why is not Edmund here 7” sighed
Sir Ambrose; “ he would not have left the
cause of Elvira to such feeble hands. But he
is gone, and, wretched father that I am | I may
soon no longer possess my darling boy. Six
months ago, two brave sons were the pride of
my heart, and the admiration of every eye.
Where are they now P the one wandering in
foreign climes, exposed to every misery of want,
and the other confined in a prison and doomed
to suffer an ignominious death. Alas! alas !
why has my life been spared to endure such
misery P"
Whilst the old man thus lamented, a bustle


THE MUMMY. . 135
was heard amongst the crowd, and the noble
lords of whom it was composed, dividing, made
way for Elvira ! With glowing cheeks and
sparkling eyes, the Queen walked proudly along
the lane made for her, having a roll of parch-
ment in her hand, and with dignity took her
seat upon the vacant throne. A solemn silence
prevailed: the conspirators were awed by the
sudden appearance of their Sovereign; and those
who had hitherto remained neutral, surprised,
stood hesitating, unknowing how to act. Elvira
paused a few seconds, sternly surveying the
crowd, and finding that no one attempted to
speak, she exclaimed, “How now, my Lords?
what means this silence P I came to assist
your councils, not to interrupt them. Go on, I
pray you; for surely such enlightened senators
can have no sentiments they fear to breathe
before their Queen.”
“We were surprised at the sudden appear-
ance of your Majesty,” said the Duke of
Essex, “as, from the report of your Majesty's
physicians, we had feared your Majesty's
illness—”
“My illness was of the mind, my Lord


136 THE MUMMY.
Duke 1" said Elvira, “ and this is the medicine
that has cured it. Look, my lords,” continued
she, unrolling the parchment she carried, and
suddenly flashing it before their eyes—“be-
hold my panacea Now I am, indeed, a Queen;
for my people have made me absolute, and,
abolishing all laws, have placed their lives and
fortunes at my feet.”
Lord Gustavus and his adherents stood
aghast, gazing upon the Queen and the parch-
ment she held so triumphantly, without the
power of uttering a word.
“Ere this,” continued the Queen, “the pur-
port of this parchment has received some thou-
sand signatures; yet I do not wish to abuse my
power. Go, my lords; I have no longer occasion
for your counsels; when I have, I will summon
you.”
The dignified manner in which Elvira waved
her hand as she said this, prevented reply; and
the lords of the council dispersed, without daring
to utter a single syllable. The duke and Sir
Ambrose alone remained. “My dear father,
cried Elvira, throwing her arms round his neck,
whilst the overstrained feelings that had so


THE MUMMY. 137
'long supported her gave way, and she sobbed
in agony upon his shoulder.
“Remove her to her chamber,” said Dr.
Coleman, who now appeared; “this agitation
will destroy her—her exhausted frame is not
able to endure it.”
In fact, the Queen was now completely over-
powered, and was carried off by Emma and her
attendants in violent hysterics.
Lord Maysworth had not been present at this
scene, for his time had been otherwise engaged;
and, to explain what occupied him, it will be ne-
cessary to go back to the prison of Prince Fer-
dinand. It may be recollected, when Cheops re-
moved Clara, he had informed the prince that
Lord Maysworth and Father Murphy would be
with him in a few hours. The Mummy's infor-
mation was correct, for at the appointed time
they came.
Och " said Father Murphy, “and where's
Clara P So they've let me in after all, ye see;
for, knowing Lord Maysworth was your friend,
I went to consult him, and he talked to them
and tould them how barbarous it was to deny
a poor fellow that was just going to be burnt


138 THE MUMMY.
alive, the consolations of religion;—they hadn't
the heart to refuse me.”
“Oh ſ* groaned Prince Ferdinand; “is there
no hope of escape?”
“I fear not,” said Lord Maysworth; “for,
notwithstanding the enormous expense attending
public executions, the people are so fond of them,
that it is necessary to indulge them now and
then ; and they are so devoted to Lord Ed-
mund that his adversary has no chance. Be-
sides, they say there are plenty of witnesses to
prove that you have addressed the most im-
passioned language to the Queen; your enthu-
siasm one night at her singing—”
“I remember,” cried Prince Ferdinand ;
“idiot that I was—oh curses on my folly.”
“Ah, that's right,” exclaimed Father Mur-
phy; “indulge yerself a little, my honey, and
it will do ye good. I don't know a prettier
amusement than cursing and swearing, and
finding fault when one's in trouble; and I’d
be far from denying ye a little harmless indul-
gence; for, as ye're to die so soon, it would be
cruel, ye know, not to let ye have all the con-
solation ye can get hold of.”


THE MUMMY. 139
“Oh ſ” exclaimed Prince Ferdinand, “I am
the most wretched of human beings.”
“And ye may say that, for I don't see any
great hope ye have, in respect that the people
must have a victim, and they’d like you better
than Lord Edmund. But never mind that, for
the worst that can happen at all, is that ye’ll
be roasted alive ſ”
“Oh ſ” groaned Prince Ferdinand, not much
consoled by this encouraging speech.
“Wehe mir" exclaimed Hans; “and can
nothing be done 2–for though roasting alive
may be the worst that can happen, I don't
think my master such an amateur in cookery
as to wish to try the experiment.”
“Och 1” cried Father Murphy, “ and I’m
quite of your opinion ; and so, if the prince
would just try, and get ready a word or two of
defence — or if some clever person that knows
the world like yere lordship, for instance, would
just give him a word or two of advice—the
thing would be entirely done, and all right.”
“Oh t” cried the prince, clasping his hands
together, “ save me ! I implore you to save
me I”


140 THE MUMMY.
“I will do all I can,” said Lord Maysworth,
smiling most graciously ; “ rely upon me,
prince; the suggestion of the holy father
shall be attended to. The gratitude I owe
your father, demands my greatest exertions—
and I am most happy to have an opportu.
nity of serving his son. This worthy father's
plan is excellent: I wonder it did not strike
me before. Confide securely in me, prince ;
a proper defence shall be prepared, and I think
by it you may escape.”
So saying he retired, leaving Prince Ferdi-
mand somewhat consoled by his assurances, but
by no means reconciled even to the possibility of
being roasted alive. The intermediate time be-
tween this conversation and the day fixed for
the trial of the prince, was spent by Lord Mays-
worth in preparing, with the assistance of those
“learned in the law,” this defence: and when
it was finished, his rapture was beyond descrip-
tion. Three times did he read it over with
still increasing satisfaction, for, as he considered
it as his own production, he regarded it with all
the true, yet indescribable rapture of a doting
parent. We are all so fond of our own chil-


THE MUMMY. 141
dren, whether of the mind or of the body, re-
garding them as emanations from ourselves,
upon which we may indulge our self-love with-
out the grossness of undisguised vanity, that
the transport of Lord Maysworth is not sur-
prising; though he actually carried it so far,
that, notwithstanding his professed attachment
and gratitude to the German Emperor, I be-
lieve if the means of procuring the prince's
escape had been offered to him, he would rather
have let him stay at the risk of being burned
alive, than have lost the pleasure he anticipated
on hearing the delivery of his speech.
The important day arrived, and the prince,
accompanied by his faithful Hans and Lord
Maysworth, proceeded to the court; the latter
carrying his beloved brief in his own pocket,
rightly considering it far too estimable to be
entrusted into any other hands than his.
The court was crowded to an excess — for
strange tales of the passion and illness of the
Queen had gone forth into the world, each edi-
tion more wonderful than that which went be-
fore it, and the people now thronged to see the
prince with that extraordinary feeling, so com-


142 THE MUMMY.
mon amongst the English, which makes them
stare at a great man in much the same way as
they would at a wild beast.
An automaton judge sat with great dignity
upon a magnificent throne, looking, though a
little heavy, quite as wise and sagacious as
judges are wont to look. A real jury (that is, a
jury of flesh and blood,) was ranged upon one
side of him, and some automaton counsel sate in
front, their briefs lying upon the table before
them, and having behind each a clerk ready to
wind him up when he should be wanted to
speak; it being found that the profession of
the law gives such an amazing volubility of
words, that it was dangerous to wind up the
counsel too soon, lest they should go off in
the wrong place, and so disturb the silence of
the court. In different parts of these counsel
were holes, into which briefs being put they were
gradually ground to pieces as the counsel were
being wound up, till they came forth in words at
the mouth : whilst the language in which the
counsel pleaded, depended entirely upon the
hole into which the brief was put, there being
a different one for every possible tongue.
All now was ready ; the prisoner with his


THE MUMMY. 143
friends placed themselves at the bar, and the
judge and jury prepared to hear and decide
with all due decorum. The signal to begin
was given, and the brief for the crown being
put into the English department of the counsel
appointed to conduct the prosecution, the clerk
began to wind away, and in a few minutes
the counsel burst forth in the following impas-
sioned strain of eloquence:—
“My Lord, and Gentlemen of the Jury,
“It is with feelings of the most unfeigned
regret that I now rise to address you. Sen-
sible—oh how deeply sensible, of my insuffi-
ciency and of the much greater competency
of any one of my learned brethren at the bar;
how willingly would I resign the task to any
one of those eloquent gentlemen, feeling so in-
disputably convinced as I do, of their eminent
talents and of their merit; and of their great,
oh how much greater fitness for an undertaking
of this magnitude than myself!”
“Ach Es ist aus mit uns ! wir sind ver-
lohren " cried Hans; “if thou art so unfit for
the task, I wonder why the deuce they em-
ployed thee!”


144 THE MUMMY.
“Peace, fool!” said the prince; “do you
not see that this is only the exordium ? these
are words of course.”
The orator had paused for an instant from
some error of his machinery ; but his clerk
setting him in motion again, he went on as
follows:—
“But having being deputed to act, I will
not shrink from the arduous duty imposed
upon me; I will, therefore, state the principal
points of the case; prove my facts by wit-
nesses; and then leave the decision to the well-
known judgment and penetration of the en-
lightened and intelligent tribunal before me!”
It was here intended the counsel should
bow to the court, but, owing to his defective
machinery, he only gave a kind of jerk, and
then continued :—
“My Lord, and Gentlemen,
“It sometimes falls to the lot of members of
my profession to relate astounding circum-
stances and soul-harrowing facts l—facts that
pierce into the inmost souls of their auditors,
and rend their tortured spirits by their iron
fangs as the teeth of the tangible harrow


THE MUMMY. 145
pierce into and rend asunder the clods of in-
animate earth over which it is dragged But
what I shall have to tell you, gentlemen, will
make even facts like these hide their diminished
heads, and run skulking into corners like owls
trembling, and flying hooting away on being
exposed to the scorching glare of the moon-
day sun.
“Do you not tremble, gentlemen?—do not
your hearts pant in breathless expectation of
what is coming 2 Indulge your anticipations—
bid fancy take her wildest flight, and let imagi-
nation conjure up all the horrors of the infernal
regions. Paint the angel of death hovering
upon leathern wings over a devoted city—and
shrieking mothers imploring mercy in vain for
their murdered children | Paint all the multi-
plied horrors of famine, fire, and carnage —
paint miserable starving wretches screaming
wildly for food, and, in the agonies of despair
gnawing the flesh from their own withering
bones!—Paint flames surrounding with their
pointed arms an helpless family crying in bitter
anguish for the aid that cannot be afforded
them l—paint witches celebrating their detested
WOL. III. H -


146 THE MUMMY.
sabaoth ! Imagine demons indulging in their
infernal revels | Yes, paint and picture to
yourself all these, and ten thousand other hor-
rors, each more frightful than the last 5–dwell
upon them—let them haunt your imaginations;
but whatever you may fancy, picture, or paint,
nothing can ever equal the horror you will feel
when you learn the crime of which the prisoner
at the bar stands accused. Know then—my
tongue falters as I speak, and my quivering
lips almost refuse to give utterance to the ap-
palling sounds—know that he has dared, im-
piously and presumptuously dared, to fall in
love with the Queen'
“I see your indignation at such baseness—
I feel the virtuous shame that burns upon every
cheek—yes, yes, my friends, I too am an Eng-
lishman, and I, like you, spurn with disdain the
thought of submitting to a stranger. What do
we want with a King? Has not the country
been happy, prosperous, flourishing—respected
at home, and honoured abroad, under the do-
minion of a Queen?—Yes, yes, my friends, it
has, and, under her gentle sway, the murderous
weapon of war has been converted into a plough-


THE MUMMY. 147
share; the nodding helmet and ponderous cors-
let into the peaceful wig and graceful gown;
and the grim aspect of frowning ruin and grin-
ning desolation into the gentle smiles of benig-
nant peace and overwhelming plenty. Long,
long may gentle peace continue to shed her
benignant smiles upon us.-Long, long may we
sit beneath the grateful shade of her olive
branches; and long, long may their feathery
foliage hang in graceful festoons above our
heads, and their pale green wreaths encircle our
brows; for in the arms of peace lie joy, ease,
and happiness—her smile gives health and con-
tentment, and her blessing wealth.
“And what threatens to affright this bewitch-
ing deity from our shores F 'Tis this audacious
stranger, who deserves the bitterest pumishment
for his unparalleled atrocity. But this is not
all;—not satisfied with endeavouring to destroy
the happiness of the Queendom, and overturn
the laws enacted by the wisdom of our ances-
tors, he has done more: yes, intolerable as his
crimes have been, there is still one more deadly
behind. Shudder, my friends, and turn away
your eyes as the fear-inspiring words drop from
H 2


148 THE MUM MY.
my tongue.—He has dared to draw arms within
the precincts of the reginal palace.
“Insufferable audacity Hear this, ye shades
of former royalty, and tremble in your Elysian
groves, at the profane hand that has dared
thus to invade your august privileges. Can it
be believed P Will after-ages credit the report P
Oh no, no! the fact will appear too monstrous
for even credulity itself to swallow !
“When the crime, the fatal crime was com-
mitted, earth trembled beneath his feet: the
winds hushed their murmurs, and all nature
stood aghast. The frightened ocean receded
from its rocky bed. Pluto rushed shivering
from his mether throne, and Neptune waved in
vain his tranquillizing trident. The elements
were convulsed; lightning streamed from the
swords of the combatants, and thunder rolled
above their heads as they stood like two heroes
of Arabian fiction wielding the elements in
their wrath !
“But I have done, my lord and gentlemen. I
say no more; for I scorn to prejudice your
minds against the prisoner, or make the slight-
est appeal to your feelings to condemn him.
However, this I must say, that if ever a case


T H E MUMMY. 149
could rouse every nerve of a true-born English-
man against it, it is this. Does any man dread
to be torn from the calm delights of his com-
fortable fireside, where he was surrounded by
his adoring wife and attentive children, and
doomed to incur all the wretchedness of misery
and want 2–let him condemn the prisoner.
Does any man dread being dragged across
burning sands, or forced to wade up to the
knees in water through marshy deserts 2–let
him condemn the prisoner. Would any man
shudder to be obliged to sleep upon the hard
cold ground, his limbs racked with rheumatism,
and his body exposed to all the vicissitudes of
hunger, thirst, and inclement seasons, whilst his
life is endangered every instant P−let him con-
demn the prisoner;-but if he prefer these hor-
rors to the comforts of a warm down bed, or
if he enjoy the prospect of having his substance
devoured by tax gatherers, to support the ex-
penses of a foreign war, then let the prisoner
be acquitted. But—unless—he—can—make—
up—his—mind to—under—go—privations—like
—these—let — him—aid—by—his—vote — to
condemn—the—wretch—who— -
And here the orator stopt abruptly, being


150 THE MUMMY.
quite gone down. He had indeed uttered the
last words gradually slower and slower, and at
lengthened intervals, because the attendant
clerk had unfortunately given him a turn too
little, and had not screwed him up quite tight
enough. The witnesses were now called. Se-
veral spoke to the circumstance of the extrava-
gant admiration expressed by the prince of
Elvira's singing; others deposed to the fact of
the combat, and others mentioned the Queen's
sighing and abstraction; but the principal one
distinctly stated, that he had heard the prince
make the Queen an offer of his hand in the gar-
dens of the Somerset House, and that she had
consented to marry him if she could obtain the
consent of her people. A general thrill of in-
dignation ran through the Court at this evi-
dence, and it was with difficulty that silence
was obtained for the pleading of the defendant.
At last all was still, and the attendant clerk
began to wind up the counsel for the prince.
Lord Maysworth watched the moment; but
being afraid to trust his beloved brief into any
hands but his own, unfortunately in his agita-
tion, he popt it into the wrong hole, and when


THE MUMMY. 151
the counsel began to speak, he burst forth in
French Words are wanting to express Lord
Maysworth's unutterable consternation at this
unfortunate accident.
“Stop! stop ſ” cried he, “ Hush hush |
Can nobody stop him f" but the inexorable
counsel would not stop:—for once wound up,
and properly set in motion, not all the powers
of Heaven and earth combined could stop him
till he had fairly run down.
“What shall I do?” cried Lord Maysworth,
in an agony of despair; “for, if the judge and
jury don't understand French, my fine oration
will be utterly lost.”
“Oh, if that be all,” said the clerk, “your
lordship need not distress yourself, for as soon
as I found what was going on, I ran up to
the judge and pulled out his lordship's French
stop "
“And the gentlemen of the jury P"
“O, they all understand French.”
“It is well,” said Lord Maysworth, “though
I am still sorry the hole happened to be French,
as I am afraid the verbosity of the language may
deteriorate the strength of my expressions.”


152 THE MUM M Y.
Thus muttered the noble lord, not sorry,
however, I believe, if the whole truth were to
be openly declared, that he had an excuse in
the change of languages for the failure of his
speech, if it should not happen to meet with
that brilliant success that he felt so perfectly
confident it deserved.
The counsel, in the mean time, went on. The
following is a translation of his speech:—
“My lord, and gentlemen of the jury.
“It is with feelings of considerable diffidence
and hesitation, that I rise to address you, after
the flood of eloquence that has poured from my
learned brother. l, gentlemen, am not gifted
with such an enviable facility of speech; nor is
my imagination endowed with that creative
power he has so forcibly displayed. I cannot,
gentlemen, like him
Uprear the club of Hercules—For what r
To crush a butterfly, or brain a gnat.
Nor have I the least intention of drawing
either Neptune or Pluto from the quiet nap
they have been taking for so many centuries—
to assist in our debate. I assure you, also, gen-
tlemen, that I shall neither disturb the ocean from


THE MUMMY. 153
its rocky bed, nor make Nature stand aghast.—
No, my lord and gentlemen, my intentions are
perfectly pacific, and your harassed imagina-
tions may repose tranquilly upon my speech,
after the tumultuous one of my learned brother,
as the way-worn traveller rests peaceably
upon the soft green turf, after having been
tossed about upon the heaving billows of the
tempestuous ocean.
'Tis sweet to rest from dread of danger free,
And mark the billows of the foaming sea;
'Tis sweet, a little skiff to safely urge
Through the tempestuous ocean's boiling surge ;
To hear the pattering rains against the roof,
And feel your hospitable mansion proof.
But sweeter far the troubled mind's repose
When of a speech like this, it hears the close.
When I listened to the powerful exordium
of my learned friend—and I did listen to him
with the most profound attention—I confess my
imagination was too highly excited to be satis-
fied with so lame and impotent a conclusion.—
“What l” cried I, “ have the laws of nature
been reversed—have demons been disturbed in
their infernal revels, and witches called from
their dusky caverns, merely because a beautiful
H 5


154 THE MUMMY.
woman has excited a tender passion in the
breast of a youthful strangerſ' Is this so ex-
traordinary an occurrence that it should create
such excessive wonder P Are our hearts so dead
to beauty that such a catastrophe should occa-
sion surprise P Forbid it, Heaven! No whilst
our hearts still throb in our bosoms, may they
ever beat responsive to the attractions of the
fair May we never become insensible to the
charms of the loveliest objects of creation 1 May
we ever own their witchery, and bend beneath
their magic sway ! Or man, degraded man
would soon sink below the level of the brutes.
View man as he degenerates when secluded from
the influence of female society;—is he not
rough, brutal, and unpolished P Does he not
want all those winning graces and those delicate
attentions that form so undeniably the charm
and solace of life? In proportion as our sensi-
bility, as our goodness, and all the best feelings
of our nature are awakened, we become sus-
ceptible of love. It is indeed, excessive sensi-
bility, and a kindly feeling to our fellow-crea-
tures, that creates it. Does there exist a gene-
rous or noble mind that has not felt this pas-


THE MUMMY. I55
sion ? No, not one there is, indeed, something
generous and ennobling in it. We cannot pre-
fer the welfare of another to our own, nor
be completely absorbed in another's being,
with the devotedness of true love, without be-
coming purified in our ideas, and raised from
that disgusting selfishness which is ever the
inspirer of base and mean actions.
Yes, love indeed is light from Heaven,
A spark of that immortal fire,
With angels shared, by Alla given,
To lift from earth our low desire.
Devotion wafts the mind above,
But Heaven itself descends in love.
And from this heavenly, this inspiring feel-
ing, shall my unfortunate client be debarred P
Hear me, ye shades of heroic lovers, who,
though dying for the hopeless object of your
passion, have still exclaimed, with the enthusi-
astic devotion of a modern poet—
Lead on, lead on, though horrors wait
In awful fury round thy gate |
And danger, death, and grim despair,
Forbid my hopeless passage there !
If love, still smiling, beckon on,
The path is passed, the gate is won 1


156 THE MUMMY.
And ye poets and philosophers, who have
painted love as the oasis of the Desert, the
green spot in memory's waste, where affection
still lingers even when hope decays; have you
no compassion for my unhappy client, whose
only fault was “that she was beautiful, and he
not blind P” And is this an offence for which a
man deserves to be burnt alive P Forbid it,
humanity forbid it, mercy No, no! such in-
human cruelty exists not in the breasts of
Englishmen. I know, I feel that you must
acquit my client on this head. But this is not
the only charge brought against him; he is ac-
cused of having violated the sanctity of a royal
palace, by drawing his sword within its pre-
cincts. To describe the enormity of this crime,
my learned friend has brought forward such an
overwhelming torrent of eloquence, that un-
happily his meaning was swept away in the
current of his words. At least I suppose so, as,
with all my industry, I have been totally unable
to find it. As, however, I cannot imagine my
learned friend could have harangued so long
without having some meaning in what he said,
I suppose it has slipped undiscovered into some


THE MUMMY. 157
sly corner, where it lies, poor thing ! quite con-
cealed, and almost crushed to death by the pon-
derous weight of metaphors heaped upon it.
Gentlemen, my client drew his sword in the
Royal Garden. This is the plain statement of
the fact, when stripped of the load of orna-
ments with which my learned friend has encum-
bered it. My client, a stranger to the Eng-
lish laws and customs, chanced to be walking
in the public garden belonging to a Royal
palace. He there met a noblemen of the court;
from causes irrelevant to the question before
us, high words took place between them. My
client was grossly insulted in a manner impos-
sible to be borne by a man calling himself a
gentleman, or making the least pretensions to
honour. He drew his sword to defend himself.
Can any thing be more simple P And yet for
this, all created nature is thrown into confusion,
and Neptune and Pluto called shivering from
their beds. Gentlemen, my learned friend's
brain was teeming with a monstrous concep-
tion, and longing to be delivered ; he dragged
it into the speech with which we have just
been favoured. Not satisfied with piercing us


158 THE MUMMY.
through with the fangs of a mental arrow;
plunging us into all the disasters of war, and
distracting our imaginations by exhibiting the
combined effects of plague, pestilence, and fa-
mine—he has entangled, in his snares, these
unfortunate deities, whom he has forced to
upper earth to bear witness on his behalf, I
am afraid, very much against their wills.
Nothing, indeed, can be more distressing than
to see an unfortunate thought thus hunted
through the meandering of a sentence; a
crowd of unmeaning words, like a pack of
hungry dogs pressing close at its back, till at
last worn out and completely exhausted, it
sinks feebly away, and gives up the ghost so
quietly, that no one can reasonably imagine
what can possibly have become of it.
“Thus it was with the argument of my learn-
ed friend, it has vanished amidst the bustle he
created around it. One thing more, my Lord
and Gentlemen, and I have done; for I shall
not, like my learned friend, after disclaiming all
intentions of appealing to your feelings, endea-
vour by an artful peroration to come home to
your inmost souls. It is simply this, that my


THE MUMMY. 159
client is a stranger, the son of a powerful fo-
reign monarch, and, of course, as he has never
taken any oath of allegiance to the English
government, he is not amenable to the English
laws. After stating this fact, I sit down, confi-
dently assured that your verdict will be in my
favour, and that, by it, you will again vindi-
cate that proud right you have so long and
gloriously maintained of acting always as en-
lightened and free-born Englishmen.”
As the orator sat down, a tumult of applause
rang through the hall, and the delight of Lord
Maysworth can be only justly appreciated by
an author who recollects what he felt when he
first heard of the success of a favourite work.
But he had little time for exultation, as the
Judge, having been wound up in his turn, now
began to sum up the evidence. Slowly and
heavily did he go on, the machinery that com-
posed him wanting oil, and creaking ominously
as it moved, whilst, ere he had half finished, a
cry was heard through the outer court, and
instantly a rush of people announced the arrival
of the Queen.
After the exertions made by Elvira the pre-


160 THE MUMMY.
vious day, her fever returned, and she lay in-
sensible to every thing that passed till she was
restored to recollection by the tolling of a deep-
toned bell, which was always set in motion the
moment a prisoner was put upon his defence.
She heard the solemn sound distinctly ; the
court where state criminals were tried, adjoin-
ed the palace, in order that the Queen might
have an opportunity of hearing appeals, or de-
ciding on any difficult case that might arise;
though as offences against the state had been
very rare in the female dynasty, (whether from
the goodness of the people or the severity of the
punishment, I leave it for my readers to deter-
mine,) the privilege had been seldom called in
action, and the bell now grated harshly as it
tolled. Elvira, however, had heard of the cus-
tom, and its cause flashed instantly upon her
mind, as she started from her bed, and listened
to the solemn sound as it fell slowly and hea-
vily upon her ear, every knell seeming to strike
upon the naked nerve.
“Emma " cried she, “let me go—quick, let
me save him, or I shall be too late.” Emma
obeyed; but whilst she was attiring her mistress


Th E. M.U.M. M. Y. 161
every moment seemed an age, and Elvira lis-
tened to the heavy tolling bell till the sense of
hearing became agony; and, unable to endure
any more, she pressed her hands firmly against
her ears to shut out the dreaded sound. At
length she was ready, and hurrying to the
court, arrived just at the critical moment I
have mentioned.
“Stop!” cried she, “I command you to stop
proceedings. The prisoner is free. My peo-
ple have given me a right to pardon all offences,
and I thus first exercise it. Set him free ſ”
The guards obeyed; and it not being possible
to stop the automaton judge till he had run
down, he was carried out of court, repeating,
(for it happened he was summing up the evi-
dence at that moment,) “And the Queen said
she loved him, and would sacrifice even her life
for his sake.”
“You are free, Sir,” said Elvira to the
prince. “I only blush that a stranger should
have been so inhospitably treated in my court.
My illness, however, must plead my excuse;
and I can only now show my sorrow by releasing
you from the parole of honour you have given.


162 THE MUMMY.
You are absolutely free, prince, not only from
these chains, but also to leave the kingdom when-
ever you shall think fit.”
The prince, in a transport of gratitude, knelt
and kissed her hand; and then retired with his
friends to the house of Lord Maysworth; whilst
Elvira, satisfied with herself, and hoping she
had disarmed scandal by desiring the prince to
quit the kingdom, returned to her palace more
happy than she had before felt since the fatal
combat in the garden.


THE MUMMY. 163
CHAPTER W.
THE effect produced by the scene just de-
scribed upon the minds of the multitude was
magical. It seemed a confirmation “strong as
proofs of holy writ” of all that had been urged
against the Queen, and alienated from her side
even those who had remained neutral.
“I really could not have believed it possi-
ble,” said the Duke of Essex, as he retired
slowly from the court.
“Thinking as I think, and as I am confident
every one else must think,” said Lord Gusta-
vus, “she seems to have lost all sense even of
common decency.”
“What do you say to this, Sir Ambrose?”
asked Dr. Hardman triumphantly.
“Nothing,” replied Sir Ambrose, sighing.


164 THE MUMMY.
“Then the case is hopeless,” said the Duke
of Essex; “for I know Sir Ambrose so well,
that I am certain if a single word could be said
in the Queen's behalf, he would not remain
silent.”
“Your grace judges me too favourably,” re-
turned Sir Ambrose; “for there is, on the con-
trary, much to be said for the Queen, if I had
been disposed to say it. You see the story of
her wishing to marry Ferdinand was evidently
false, for she desired him in plain terms to quit
the kingdom.”
“A mere blind,” cried Lord Gustavus, who
felt he had now gone too far to recede; “an
absolute farce; and I am only astonished a
man of your penetration, Sir Ambrose, could
have been deceived by it.”
“It has long been the proudest boast of the
English law,” said Sir Ambrose, “that every
one is presumed innocent till he be proved
guilty; and I confess I do not see why the
Queen should alone be made an exception to
the rule.”
Lord Gustavus made no reply, and the party
proceeded to their several homes. The follow-


THE MUMMY. 165
ing day was appointed for the trial of Lord
Edmund, and the court was, if possible, yet
more crowded than before ; for the singular
termination of Prince Ferdinand's trial had
created the most intense anxiety upon the part
of the mob to know what would be the result
of that of Lord Edmund. It has been already
stated that he was the idol of the people, and
now thousands of human voices shouted his
praises to the sky, and heaped curses and exe-
crations upon his enemies.
The tumult, however, was hushed to breath-
less expectation when it was announced that
the officers of justice were gone in search of the
prisoner; and innumerable human beings stood
craning their necks over the lane made for his
approach through the crowd, all eager to catch
the first glimpse of him. But what language
can express their disappointment and surprise
when they saw the officers return, pale and
trembling, fear painted upon their counte-
nances, and their teeth chattering in their
heads !
“He is gone,” they cried: “the prison door
was locked, and the windows fast, but he is


166 THE MUMMY.
gone; and doubtless some evil spirit has car-
ried him off.”
Great was the consternation excited by this
unexpected news; every one rushed to the
prison, and each in turn was struck with horror
on finding it exactly in the state the officers had
described.—“It is the Mummy that has done
this,” said the people, whispering amongst
themselves: “ some horrible event certainly
hangs over us; and it is in vain to attempt to
resist our destiny | All is supernatural, and
we are merely blind instruments in the hands
of Fate.”
The disappearance of Lord Edmund had,
however, nothing supernatural in it; and, in-
deed was effected by very simple means, and
mere mortal agents. The agitation of his
mind after his interview with Cheops became
excessive, and every hour seemed stretched to
an unnatural length as he anxiously awaited
Father Morris's return; but the monk came
not. Lord Edmund's impatience increased
every instant, till it became absolute agony ;
yet still he was alone. He paced his chamber
with uncertain steps—his brain burning with


THE MUMMY. 167
incipient madness, till, no longer knowing what
he did, he dashed his head against the walls,
and tore off his hair by handfuls. In this
state the gaoler found him; and reporting his
condition, his trial, which was to have taken
place previously to that of Ferdinand, was
postponed a few days to allow time for his
recovery.
Bleeding and blistering reduced Lord Ed-
mund's fever; but his soul was still on fire. In
the paroxysms of his disorder, no less than in
his lucid intervals, one sole idea seemed to have
taken possession of his fancy; and he inquired
incessantly if Father Morris were returned P
No, no, was the continual answer to his que-
ries; till the heart of the poor prisoner sicken-
ed within him at the sound. At length, he
appeared well enough to take his trial, and the
day was fixed, as we have already stated. The
mind of Edmund now seemed tolerably com-
posed; but it was the stillness of apathy, rather
than that of resignation; and on the night pre-
ceding the day fixed for his trial, some of his for-
mer anxious and tormenting fantasies returned.
“I will shake off this weakness,” said he:


168 THE MUMMY.
“I will read;” and, drawing his chair near the
fire, he took up a book: it was in vain, how-
ever; for though he read over the same page
repeatedly, he could not compose his mind
sufficiently to comprehend its meaning. He
threw his book aside, and, fixing his eyes upon
the fire, was soon lost in gloomy meditations:
when a slight noise attracted his attention ;
and, looking round, he saw a panel in the wall
slowly detach itself, and Father Morris appear
in the aperture, followed by another figure,
closely wrapped in a large black cloak.
“Father Morris I" cried Edmund; “is it
indeed Father Morris; or some kind spirit that
has assumed his shape?”
“It is indeed I, my son ſ” returned the
priest; “and I come to rescue and console
you.”
“Methinks you come somewhat late, father,”
said Edmund, rather coldly ; “for I have suf-
fered much since I saw you !”
“Others have suffered also,” resumed the
monk, “and for your sake | Notwithstanding
you have fancied yourself neglected and for-
gotten by all the world, there is one human


THE MUMMY. 169
being who has never ceased to watch over you ;
who thinks only of you; who makes your hap-
piness her only care; and who would sacrifice
her life to preserve your's "
Edmund's heart beat, and his cheeks glowed
as he exclaimed, “And this kind friend is—”
“Now before you!” interrupted the monk;
tearing aside the cloak that shrouded his com-
panion, and discovering Rosabella
“Rosabella ſ” exclaimed Edmund; a slight
shade of disappointment passing over his fea-
tures.
“Oh Edmund !” cried Rosabella, throwing
herself at his feet, “can you forget that I
have overstepped the bounds prescribed to my
sex: will you not hate me?” -
“I do not blame you. I were unworthy of
the name of man if I could. But father, what
says Elvira º Have you delivered the chain P”
“She refuses either to see or hear from
you.”
“Cruel woman But perhaps she dreads to
see me?”
“I know not ; but she treated your peti-
tion with contempt. ‘Tell him,' said she, “it
VOL. III. I


170 THE MUMMY.
is not possible he can have aught to say that
can interest me. I will not hear his suit.’”
“Proud, haughty princess! But was this
all P'
“No: I again entreated her to see you,
when she turned from me in scorn, and bade
me leave her. ‘Talk not to me of Edmund,”
cried she, with a look of ineffable contempt.
“Has he not wounded Ferdinand, and would
you have me forgive him 2–a thousand deaths
are not sufficient to punish such a crime !”
“What strange infatuationſ”
“Strange, indeed—for she has interrupted
his trial and set him free; besides which, they
say she has actually offered her hand and he has
refused it; yet still she dotes upon him to dis-
traction. ‘Go,” continued she, when I had
finished all I had to say, “and tell Edmund,
that I neither hate nor despise him, for he is in-
capable of exciting any emotion in my breast ;
however, if he wishes to make amends for his
past conduct, and be restored to my favour,
his first step must be, humbly to beg pardon of
the prince.”
“Damnationſ” cried Edmund, starting up


THE MUMMY. 171
fiercely: “she did not, surely she could not,
say that P”
“Indeed she did, my lord.”
“Then may ten thousand curses light upon
me if I forgive her | Pardon of that wretch
my slave my prisoner no, sooner would I
expire in horrid torments—sooner be torn asun-
der by wild beasts—Pardon of that boy –oh!
she could not mean it.”
Whilst Edmund thus raved, Father Morris
and Rosabella watched his torments with much
of the same coolness, as a French philosopher
would those of an unfortunate animal upon
which he was trying experiments. No feeling of
compassion entered their souls, and they only
waited to see the effect their words would pro-
duce. It may easily be perceived that the whole
scene which Father Morris related as having pas-
sed between him and Elvira, was a fabrication;
but Lord Edmund saw not this, for jealousy
often throws a veil over the eyes of its victims,
which gives a delusive colouring to every thing
they see. Thus, Lord Edmund believed every
word the father uttered, and his whole frame
trembled with agitation as he paced the room
I 2


172 THE MUMMY.
with hasty strides. At last, he threw himself
upon a chair—“Beg his pardon "exclaimed he
“Oh Elvira ! Elvira !” and he hid his face in his
hands, whilst the big tears trickled through his
fingers, and Lord Edmund, the stern, courage-
ous soldier, the philosopher, the hero, and the
statesman, wept, actually wept, like a feeble
child.
“Oh Edmund !” exclaimed Rosabella, ap-
proaching him, and taking his hand—“I can-
not bear to see you in distress. Would to
Heaven that by the sacrifice even of my life
I could relieve you!”
“Rosabella, you will drive me to distrac-
tion.”
“Not for worlds, Edmund; on the contrary,
were I mistress of worlds, I would cast them at
your feet.”
“I know it—I know it; but spare me
now.” -
“Spare you, Edmund ! Spare what P spare
my reproaches, mean you? Alas! you need not
fear them. Am I not devoted to you ? Is it
not for your sake that I have thus passed the
boundaries of my sex P Are you disgusted with


THE MUMMY. 173
my boldness? But no : you will surely forgive
me, for my only motive has been to save you,
and my only hope of happiness is bound up in
yours.”
“Rosabella ſ” repeated Edmund, “I believe
that you love me.”
“Love you ! Oh heavens ! can you doubt my
love P”
“I do not doubt it, and this last action proves
it more than words. I have long done you in-
justice; can you forgive me, Rosabella P"
“Oh Edmund !” exclaimed the princess, whilst
her full heart heaved almost to bursting and the
tears streamed down her face.
“I have been the victim of infatuation,” con-
tinued Edmund ; “I have loved a false, un-
grateful woman, who has betrayed me. But I
see my folly; and if tears of penitence shed at
your feet can earn my pardon—if you will ac-
cept a broken, bleeding heart—”
“Oh Edmund !” interrupted Rosabella, throw-
ing herself into his arms, “say no more–
I am yours — yours for ever — your devoted
slave—”
“Not my slave, Rosabella,” said Edmund,


174 THE MUMMY.
gently disengaging her from him, and placing
her upon a chair, “but my wife, my beloved
wife.”
“Your wife I’’ exclaimed Rosabella, “ Ed-
mund's wife I am I indeed so blest ? Oh no
surely it is a dream, a fond delusive dream
You cannot surely be serious.”
“Is this a moment for jest ?” asked Edmund
calmly.
“It certainly is not,” said Father Morris,
whose agitation had been nearly equal to their
own, and who had stood gazing upon them with
looks of the fondest affection. “We must im-
mediately escape, or it will be too late; it wants
but two hours of daybreak, and, with the dawn,
Lord Edmund's trial will commence.”
“True, true !” cried Rosabella, “I had for-
gotten. Dearest Edmund, you must condescend
to fly, or your precious life will be sacrificed.”
“But how shall I escape Fº
“Through this panel. A balloon waits at
a little distance, and this cloak will conceal your
person from observation.”
“Dear Rosabella I"
“Come, come,” cried Father Morris, “we


THE MUMMY. 175
have no time to lose. Though Ferdinand was
acquitted you must fall, for the state requires a
victim.”
Lord Edmund waited for no more; the name
of Ferdinand was torture to him; and, hastily
disencumbering himself of his chains, he follow-
ed the father and Rosabella from the prison.
He sighed, however, and looked back for a
moment with regret ere he quitted the outer
walls, for he thought of Flvira. Rosabella's
quick ear caught the sigh and her subtle spirit
divined its meaning; but this was not a moment
to complain, and stepping into their balloon
they were soon out of sight of London. They
proceeded to a palace of Rosabella's, a few miles
out of town, and there, the following day, Ed-
mund became her husband.
In the mean time, the excessive agitation Elvira
experienced on the day of Prince Ferdinand's
trial brought on a return of her fever, and it
was several weeks ere she was sufficiently re-
covered to leave her bed. When she did so,
however, she was really shocked at the state in
which she found her kingdom. When she first
began to reign, carried away by the enthusiasm


176 THE MUMMY.
of the moment, she had taken too much of the
executive part of the government upon herself;
and as her illness had been too sudden to allow
her to appoint a regency, no one knew who
ought to supply her place. All therefore was
confusion and disorder, and Elvira shrunk dis-
gusted from the chaos before her. She had now
no Edmund to smooth the way for her, and the
native energy of her mind was gone. Pale,
heart-broken, and dispirited, she felt languid
and incapable of the slightest exertion. What
had formerly been a pleasure, was now become
an overwhelming burthen, and the weight of
life seemed insupportable.
She was now weary also of the fatigue neces-
sary to carry on the plans she had projected for
the benefit of her people. At first, when all
seemed new and delightful, she had devoted
herself entirely to their interests: she had de-
nied herself even the most trifling pleasures, and
scarcely allowed herself the time absolutely ne-
cessary for food and rest. This was all very
well, whilst her plans had the charm of novelty,
and were supported by passion. But now that


THE MUMMY. 177
novelty had worn off, and they had assumed the
dull wearisome appearance of duties—when re-
peated disappointments had extinguished almost
the hope of success, and when she found her
people expected, nay, demanded as a right, that
which she had originally granted them only as
an especial mark of favour, she discovered,
though too late, the folly of the toil she had
imposed upon herself.
She now also discovered that improvement to
be effectual must be slow: that people don't like
to be forced out of old habits, till they have seen
the effect of new ones proved by experience,
and that nothing is so difficult as to improve
people against their wills. Increase the re-
sources of a country, throw money into the
hands of the middling and lower classes, and
they will improve themselves; but, at least,
nine-tenths of a population will never suffer
themselves to be improved. Those only who
have attempted this thankless and painful of
fice can fully estimate the sufferings of the un-
fortunate Elvira, who, disappointed in all she
undertook, found life become tasteless and in-
I 5


178 THE MUMMY.
sipid, and was completely wretched,—though
surrounded by all the gifts of beauty, power,
and fortune.
Every thing seemed to conspire to increase
her misery. Those whom she raised from indi-
gence to affluence treated her with the most
provoking insolence and discontent. A plan
which had been opposed by the lords Gusta-
vus de Montfort and Maysworth, and which
she had persisted in having tried, had com-
pletely failed, and the noble Lords had triumph-
ed in the most provoking manner in her disap-
pointment. In short, every thing went wrong;
and Elvira, disgusted with the world, felt mor-
tified and disgusted with herself.
“How hard it is,” thought she, frequent-
ly, as she tossed upon her sleepless couch,
“ that I who, since my accession to the throne,
have devoted myself entirely to the interests of
my subjects, should be thus wretched; whilst
tyrants, who live but to oppress, sleep quietly
upon their beds of down. Alas! why cannot
I be as they are P Why cannot I divest my-
self of reflection, and enjoy the pleasures that
surround me P But what pleasures can I enjoy P


THE MUMMY. 179
alas! the world presents nothing that can interest
me; an insipid vacuum spreads through crea-
tion ; my heart is cold and desolate; my affec-
tions are thrown back upon myself, and I am
miserable.”
Thus raved Elvira, and, absorbed in pain-
ful meditations, she neglected the duties of
her station, and resigned herself to despair,
whilst the people, attributing her evident
wretchedness to her grief for the absence of
Prince Ferdinand, who had left London im-
mediately after his trial, and had not since
been heard of, became every hour more and
more discontented with their Queen.
In the mean time, the marriage of Lord Ed-
mund, though not openly avowed, was gene-
rally suspected; and the party of Rosabella
gained strength every day, whilst mysterious
rumours were whispered from mouth to mouth,
and divers hints given that many knew more
than they chose to say; though from the im-
mense number of these mystery-mongers it
seemed, as in the celebrated scene in the Barber
of Seville, that every one was in the secret, though
nobody was to divulge it. The listlessness of


180 THE MUMMY.
Elvira soon produced the most serious effects.
A kingdom without a government, or rather a
government without a chief, cannot long go on
well. It is like a ship at sea without a pilot,
and it must founder upon the first rock that
impedes its course.
When the vigour of government is from any
cause relaxed, there are always plenty of per-
sons ready to take advantage of the opportunity
afforded them to commit evil with impunity;
and crimes of every description multiplied so
fast under the negligent sway of Elvira, that
the people became clamorous in their com-
plaints. But to whom could they address
themselves P. The Queen was rarely visible—
Lord Edmund was gone, and the lords of the
council were too busy talking about the inte-
rests of the people to think of really attending
to them; whilst the duke and Sir Ambrose
seemed too old to be likely to trouble them-
selves by intermeddling with an affair of state.
To them, however, the people looked as a
dernier resort; and as it seemed indelicate to
apply to the duke when the person they com-
plained of was his own daughter, they entreated


THE MU M M Y. 181
Sir Ambrose to present a petition to the Queen
in their behalf.
The worthy baronet acceded to their request,
and though almost bent to the earth by age
and misery, prepared once more to appear at
court. The loss of his beloved Edmund had
affected the old man deeply: he considered his
flight before trial as a confession of guilt, and
the thought of disgrace weighed down his grey
hairs with sorrow to the grave. The distress
of the people, however, roused him from the
apathy into which he was fast falling; and when
he waited upon the Queen, it was with all the
energy of his former years.
The Queen received him sullenly. “I can-
not help it Sir Ambrose,” said she ; “I am
sorry for my people, but I cannot do any thing
to relieve them. I feel that I am fast sinking
into the tomb; do not then disturb my last
moments by fruitless solicitations.”
“Last moments ſ” cried Sir Ambrose, in-
dignantly; “rally your energies, and you may
live half a century. You give way to a morbid
sensibility that oppresses you ; and, because
some of your hopes have been disappointed,


182 THE MUMMY.
you shrink from the duties that you have im-
posed upon yourself, and talk of your last mo-
ments. Shame ! shame ! Elvira ! rouse yourself
from this lethargy, and be indeed a Queen.
Remember, that though Nature has ordinarily
denied your sex the power of triumphing in
the field, she has yet left a far greater conquest
for you to achieve—the conquest of yourself;
for it is far more glorious to subdue the way-
ward desires of the human heart, than to lead
scores of monarchs captives in your chains.
Struggle then with your feelings: conquer those
fatal passions that threaten to destroy you ;
show yourself worthy of your crown, and be
again the Elvira for whom even in her child-
hood, I anticipated greatness.”
“It is too late,” interrupted the Queen impa-
tiently—“it is now too late. Urge me no more,
Sir Ambrose, or you will drive me to despair.”
Sir Ambrose was provoked at her obstinacy,
and a pause ensued, which was broken by a tu-
multuous noise and shouting. It was the peo-
ple at the gates of the palace, who, impatient
at the length of Sir Ambrose's stay, were now
becoming clamorous for an answer.


THE MUMMY. 183
“What shall I say to them f" asked the
baronet.
“Tell them I deny their suit * replied the
Queen. “Away, away, away ! I would be quiet ;
go without reply ; I will hear no more ; I will
not be tormented:” and waving her hand for
him to depart, she hurried to her chamber.
Finding there was no alternative, Sir Ambrose
was compelled to appear before the people and
acquaint them with the will of their Sovereign.
The tumult became more violent as he spoke.
An English mob is proverbially impetuous; and
now their rage rose beyond control. “The Queen!
the Queen ſ” they shouted; “we will see the
Queen " The crowd increased every moment—
the multitude heaved in tremendous waves like
the rolling billows of the sea, and the hum of
thousands of human voices filled the air. They
threatened to storm the palace. A man in com-
plete armour, his face entirely concealed by his
vizor, headed their attempts; the outer gates
were forced, and the throng rushed tumultu-
ously into the court of the palace.
All there was confusion: soldiers might have
been summoned, and the place defended ; but


184 THE MUMMY.
there was no one to give orders; and the ser-
vants ran to and fro in the greatest possible
distress, without knowing either where they
were going, or what they intended doing. In
the midst of this bustle, Elvira sate burying her
face in her hands, and obstinately refusing to
take the slightest interest in the scene. The
door opened violently, and Sir Ambrose and
some of her principal servants rushed in. “For
God's sake, save yourself ſ” cried they. “If
your Majesty were safe, we care not for our-
selves.”
“Fly!” cried Sir Ambrose, throwing him-
self upon his knees before her, his white
hair streaming almost to the ground ; “for
God's sake, fly ſ” It was too late, however,
then, had the Queen been disposed to obey
him ; for, as he spoke, the outer door burst
open with tremendous violence; the palace
seemed to shake to its foundation with the
shock; and in an instant the chamber was filled
by the infuriated populace.
“Seize the Queen, but do not injure her ſ”
cried a voice that thrilled through every nerve
of Sir Ambrose. “Spare the old man; do not


T H E M U M MY. 185
hurt a hair of his head.” Sir Ambrose looked
up ; the voice came from the man in armour;
but it was the voice of Edmund. A crowd
of overwhelming thoughts rushed through his
mind, and, overpowered by their weight, he
sank senseless upon the ground. “Take
him away !” cried Edmund; (for it was in-
deed he;) “take him away ! but see that ye
hurt him not: he dies that injures him.”
“Edmund !” cried Elvira, struck also by his
voice—
“To prison with her ſ” exclaimed he.
“To prison, Edmund ! do you doom your
Queen to prison? Is it thus you treat your So-
vereign "
“I own no Sovereign here but Rosabella.”
“But, by what right can she be called your
Sovereign P"
“By that which made you Queen. The peo-
ple's voice. It lies with them to crown or to
dethrone l’’
“Oh Edmund ! mercy I"
“Away with her I'll hear no more.”
The guards seized upon the unfortunate
Queen, and, in spite of her entreaties, hurried


186 THE MUMMY.
her away. Edmund did not trust himself to
look at her. For a moment he hid his face
in his hands; then rousing himself, he exclaim-
ed, “Now to proclaim the Queen ſ” The peo-
ple followed him with shouts of applause, and
before evening Edmund and Rosabella were
unanimously acknowledged as King and Queen
of England.


THE MUMMY. 187
CHAPTER VI.
Notwithstanding the able manner in which
the revolution had been effected, England was
still in a state of tumult. Though the army
had been seduced by the example of Edmund,
and the people had been obliged to submit, they
were by no means perfectly satisfied with their
new government; and Rosabella found, too
late, that though the throne might be compared
to a bed of roses, it was not without its thorns.
The discontented nobles who had aided her
cause were also extremely displeased by what
they called the trifling value of the rewards
bestowed upon them; though, in fact, they
rated their services so high, that Rosabella
found her whole kingdom did not possess the
power of repaying them to their satisfaction.


188 THE MU M MY.
It was also a considerable grievance of these
haughty nobles, to see Prince Ferdinand re-
turn to the English Court immediately after the
dethronement of Elvira, and be received with
open arms by Rosabella, who, with the anxiety
to conciliate the friendship of foreign powers,
usually displayed by those whose thrones feel
far from secure at home, loaded him with fa-
vours, and even gave him a post of honour in
the command of her own body-guard.
Whilst the unreasonableness of her people
thus embittered Rosabella's political life, her
domestic happiness seemed to rest upon a yet
more unstable foundation. She knew that
though she possessed Edmund's hand, his heart
was still devoted to Elvira; and jealousy made
her view all his actions in a distorted light. If
he were sad, she was sure he was thinking of
her rival; and if gay, she fancied it a masque
put on only to deceive her. She was thus com-
pletely miserable, and Edmund was as wretched
as herself. He felt that he had sacrificed him-
self to revenge, and sold his peace for a bauble,
which, when obtained, did not seem worth the
trouble of possessing. His father too—Sir


THE MUMMY. 189
Ambrose, his doating father, was now entirely
estranged from him, as he repeatedly declared
he would never forgive a traitor, who could
forget his oath of allegiance for his own ag-
grandizement.
“No ſ” exclaimed the old man, “I loved, I
doted upon Edmund; but the Edmund I loved
is vanished. My darling son was brave and
noble, not a deceptive scoundrel. No, no, my
old heart may break—nay, I hope it will—but
never whilst I live shall a deceitful traitor be
pressed against this breast.”
Edmund was inconsolable; he passionately
loved his father, and could not bear his anger;
besides, he felt that the reproaches of the old
man were seconded by those of his own heart.
It is painful at any time to bear the censures
of the world, but they fall with double weight
when we know that they are deserved. Ed-
mund was dissatisfied with himself, and, con-
sequently, disposed to quarrel with the world.
He fancied it looked coldly upon him, and, in
return, he affected to despise it. A hundred
times a day he repeated that he was perfectly in-
different to every thing that was said of him ;


190 THE MUMMY.
whilst his nervous anxiety to peruse the news-
papers, and make himself perfectly acquainted
with every popular rumour, proved that he was
only too sensible to every word that was utter-
ed. Edmund had made the mob his idol, he
could not live without its applauses, and
wretched indeed are those who thus depend
on others for their hopes of happiness.
Edmund's disgust at his new rank and situa-
tion was soon still farther increased by a visit
from Lord Gustavus, who, with several other
lords, was deputed to present to his Majesty
the complaints of the Commons. They wanted
to be enfranchised, they desired innumerable
rights and privileges, and in fact they wanted
to be all kings; for if half that they demanded
had been granted, Edmund must have made
them more powerful than himself. He pointed
this out to Lord Gustavus, and condescended
to reason with him upon the folly of their
desires.
“Impossible !” cried Lord Gustavus. “Your
Majesty must excuse me but I cannot listen to
such arguments; I came here to defend the
liberties of the people. Reform is necessary—


THE MUMMY. 191
without reform, nothing can go on well. Evils
must be torn up root and branch.”
“Are not my subjects healthy, wealthy, and
prosperous?” asked Edmund. “Have they not
been successful at home and abroad P Do not
the English peasants live as well as most
foreign princes, and what more can they re-
quire P”
“Liberty, Sire,” returned Lord Gustavus.
“What are all these pretended advantages
without liberty P mere toys; gaudy apples, but
rotten at the core. Of what use, indeed, are
all the blessings of life, without liberty to give
them zest, and radical reform to purge them
of all impurities f"
“But listen to reason.”
“Reason Thinking as I think, and as I
am sure every rational being must think, your
Majesty must forgive me if I assert, that even
Reason herself does not deserve to be attended
to, when she is basely enlisted upon the side of
Tyranny.”
“Nay, then,” said Edmund, “it is useless to
attempt to argue with you. I thought you had
made Reason your goddess; but if you worship


192 THE MUMMY.
her only as long as it suits your own purposes, I
have done. You may retire. I shall take the
petition into consideration, and give it an an-
swer when I may think fit.”
Edmund, who, from being degraded and
debased in his own opinion, no longer pos-
sessed that confidence in himself that carried
conviction with all he said, had yet sufficient
dignity in his manner to awe those to silence
who dared to dispute his commands; and Lord
Gustavus and his colleagues, not presuming to
make farther remonstrance, retired in dudgeon.
This incident contributed to sicken Edmund of
reigning: he became disgusted with his Queen,
his court, his kingdom, and his country, and,
secluding himself as much as possible from pub-
lic life, left the care of managing the affairs
of state to Rosabella and Father Morris, who
now throwing off the disguise he so long had
worn, appeared openly as the dispenser of her
favours, and the arbiter of her actions.
The spirit of poor Sir Ambrose was quite
broken by these misfortunes. The defection of
his son, and the ingratitude of his confessor,
stung him to the core. He retired again to the


THE MUMMY. 193
country, where with his friend the duke, Clara,
and Father Murphy, he contrived to exist,
though but the shadow of his former self. The
duke was also grievously changed, and it was
melancholy to see these two poor old men wan-
dering about their splendid gardens and mag-
nificent palaces like roaming ghosts, permitted
to revisit for a time the scenes of their de-
parted happiness. Clara now became the sole
stay that bound these old men to life. Her
character had developed itself wonderfully in
the midst of the striking events she had
witnessed. Firm, courageous, and enterpriz-
ing, though still gentle—the lively girl seemed
changed into the intelligent woman, whose active
mind and comprehensive spirit foresaw every
thing and provided against every emergency.
Clara was still young; but her spirit was ma-
ture beyond her years, and her attention to the
duke and Sir Ambrose was unremitting.
“Well!” would they often say, “though
we have lost much, we ought still to be thank-
ful that Clara is spared to us:” and then with
tears trickling down their aged cheeks, they
would join in imploring Heaven to shower down
WOL. III. K


194 THE MUMMY.
blessings upon her head. In the mean time,
however, Clara herself was far from happy.
She would, it is true, exert herself to appear
cheerful, but it was evident it was an exertion;
and often, when the duke and Sir Ambrose had
seated themselves at a party at chess, she would
steal out unobserved and retire to a little pavi-
lion in the garden, near what were formerly the
apartments of Father Morris, as being the most
secluded spot she could find; this part of the
mansion having been carefully shut up and
avoided by every human being, since the de-
parture of the priest, as infectious; the indig-
nation the worthy and attached servants of Sir
Ambrose felt towards Father Morris for his de-
sertion of their master, being extended even to
the rooms he had occupied.
In this secluded spot Clara often sate for
hours, lost in meditation, her head resting upon
her hand, and her eyes fixed in vacancy. Winter
had now given place to spring, and all nature
seemed to revive with that gay and joyous sea-
son. The heart of Clara, however, was still
lonely; she fancied it could enjoy no second
summer; and she felt almost disposed to quarrel


THE MUMMY. 195
with all around her for displaying a gaiety in
which she could not participate. Nothing
makes a broken heart feel more gloomy than
to see all other objects look gay. It turns
from them in disgust, and feels its own
misery doubled by the sight of their hap-
piness.
One evening as Clara was sitting absorbed in
melancholy reflections, she was startled by hear-
ing a deep-drawn sigh heaved heavily behind
her. She turned, and fancied she could distin-
guish a figure in the midst of the twilight;-
but, magnified by the obscurity, the figure
seemed of gigantic proportions. Uttering a
faint scream, she attempted to fly—when a
hand of iron grasped her arm, and arrested her
progress. An icy chill shot to her heart, whilst
the well-remembered voice of Cheops sounded
in her ears.
“Clara,” said he, in his deep sepulchral tone,
“would you save your Queen P”
“With the sacrifice of my life, if necessary,”
replied Clara firmly.
“Clara,” continued the Mummy, “I have
marked you attentively,–and as I do not know
K 2


196 THE MUMMY.
any individual possessing more strength of mind
and personal courage than yourself, I have fixed
upon you to be my assistant in this enterprize.
The life of Elvira is in danger; and even my
influence cannot much longer save her, if she
remain in the power of Father Morris. Besides,
the lesson she has already had, has been suffici-
ently severe. I will aid her to escape, and you
must assist me. You shall go to Ireland; and
there, if the warlike Roderick be not deaf to
the cry of beauty in distress, through his aid
Elvira may hope redress, at least, she must
implore his help.–Rosabella is now at a palace
near this, and she has brought her rival in her
train; for, with the usual jealousy and suspicion
of tyrants and usurpers, she scarcely dares to
trust her from her sight. Besides this, her
diabolical revenge is gratified in making Elvira
wait humbly near her throne, and serve in those
palaces where she once commanded. Moved
by this ungenerous conduct, and the patience
with which the unhappy Elvira bears her suf.
ferings, the nobles and people of the realm
begin to pity her: and when they are disgusted
with the haughtiness and intolerance of Rosa-


THE MUMMY. 197
bella, they sigh for the return of the gentle
Elvira. Father Morris perceives this, and de-
termining to rid Rosabella of her rival, the fair
Elvira fades beneath his arts, like a flower with-
ering on its stem.”
“She must be saved '" said Clara, with
enthusiasm; “she shall be saved 1 — Point
but out the means, and I am devoted to her
service.”
“You must assume these weeds, and fol-
low me,” said Cheops, pointing to a bundle
in a corner of the pavilion, which Clara had
not before noticed. “In half an hour I will
return for you.”
“And my sudden disappearance,” rejoined
Clara, “will it not excite suspicion?”
“The river is deep and rapid,” returned
Cheops; “some of your clothes left upon its
banks—”
“I comprehend,” cried Clara eagerly; “but
the poor old duke, and Sir Ambrose f"—
“Their anxiety and distress may be great,
but cannot be lasting: the feelings of age are
blunt, and—”
“Oh, no!" exclaimed Clara, “you are de-


198 The MUMMY.
ceived;—nay, I think that age feels grief more
acutely than youth. The mind has lost its elas-
ticity—hope is dead within it, and the old
brood over their secret sorrow till they destroy
their—”
“By Osiris! thou art a most extraordinary
girl,” said Cheops; “the old do brood over grief,
but why say this to me? Do I not know it well
—too well ?” continued he, looking at her earn-
estly. Clara turned pale, and trembled—he saw
her agitation; and, hastily averting his eyes, con-
tinued in a calmer tone,—“Whatever the suf-
ferings of the old men may be for the moment,
I suppose even you will allow the life of Elvira
more than counterbalances them;—and, by in-
flicting this temporary pain, you will save them
from the more lasting agony they would endure
from her death: for Father Morris is so subtle,
that it would be dangerous to give them the
slightest hint of ourintention, lest he should worm
it from them. Be ready then, Clara; resign thy-
self to my instructions, and, above all, fear not.”
Clara bent her head in token of assent, and
Cheops disappeared. Upon examining the
clothes, Clara found them to be the dress of a


The MUMMY. 199
Greek peasant boy, numbers of whom at this
period were rambling over England singing
wild romances to their harps or lutes, and
telling fortunes in a kind of doggrel rhyme.
Exposure to the air tanned most of these wan-
dering minstrels brown, and Clara found a
bottle of liquid in the parcel to stain her face
and hands. She bound up her flaxen ringlets,
and, covering her head with curls of a jetty
blackness, she found the metamorphosis so com-
plete that she scarcely knew herself as she saw
her figure reflected in a large mirror behind
her. It was now nearly dark, but Cheops had
left the necessary implements for striking a
light, and Clara made her toilette without the
least difficulty.
Anxious were the moments, however, that
passed after her task was completed, till the
arrival of Cheops; and when he did come, she
saw he was attired as herself. He grasped
her arm, and without speaking led her to the
banks of the river. Clara shuddered as she
found herself alone in the power of this mys-
terious being, and saw the river roll deep and
dark beneath her feet. Cheops felt her shud-


200 THE MUMMY.
der, and cried with one of his horrid laughs,
which sounded fearfully amidst the stillness
of the night, “What do even you fear me P
Is there no courage in this degenerate race P
None P What do you fear? If you dread to
trust yourself in my power, or think yourself
unequal to the task you have undertaken,
retire: there is yet time, and I wish no un-
willing agents. Poor child !” continued he,
looking at her with feeling; “thou dost not
know me, but for worlds I would not harm
thee ("
“I will go with you,” said Clara resolutely;
“I do not shrink. Let what will await me, I
will not recede: though unheard-of torments
may attend me, I will endure them.”
“By the Holy Gods of my forefathers,”
cried Cheops, “she is a brave girl | Yes,
Clara, I will trust thee; and though we should
encounter horrors fearful as those which menace
the initiati in the dread Isian mysteries, I will
not doubt thy courage. A determined spirit,
Clara, may subdue even Fate.”
As he spoke, he threw the clothes she had
brought for the purpose carelessly upon the


THE M º:* º zºº. 30lºgº
banks of the river; and then again seizing her
arm, he dragged her forward with such ra-
pidity, that in an incredibly short time they
approached the palace of Rosabella. The man-
sion looked the region of enchantment. Bril-
liantly illuminated, light streamed from every
window; and through the colonnade of the great
hall, groups of elegantly dressed people were
seen gaily moving to and fro, some dancing,
and others listening to harmonious music.
Clara, though terrified and exhausted, felt
still irresistibly impelled to proceed, and, still
guided by her strange companion, entered, un-
observed, the outer court of the palace,
“Prince Ferdinand of Germany commands
the guard to-night,” whispered Cheops, in a
low, unnatural voice; “it is well, he shall go
with us.” -
“But will he f" asked Clara tremblingly.
“Will he f" returned Cheops, with his pe-
culiar smeer: “dost thou doubt my power,
girl?” -
Clara and Cheops had now reached a place
from whence, unobserved, they could survey the
whole of the splendid apartment before them.
K 5


202 THE MUMMY.
They had, in fact, entered the hall, and placed
themselves in a kind of recess shaded by
projecting pillars, from whence they could see
every part of the saloon. Clara was asto-
nished to find herself so easily in the presence
of the Queen, for she knew not how they had
attained their present situation; and she would
have spoken to ask Cheops, but he laid his
finger upon his lips: and whispering—“Hip-
pocrates was the only son of Isis and Osiris"
—she comprehended he meant that Wisdom
and Knowledge produced Silence, and she did
not dare to breathe a syllable.
Rosabella sate upon a splendid dais, gor-
geously attired; her black eyes flashing with
added brilliancy from the deep rouge upon
her cheeks; whilst her raven hair was adorned
with diamonds, and a splendid tiara of the
same precious stones sparkled on her fore-
head; a robe of crimson velvet, bordered with
ermine, fell in graceful folds over her fine
figure; whilst her swanlike neck and snowy
arms, exposed perhaps more than delicacy
might strictly warrant, were also loaded with
costly jewels. Around her, stood the ladies of


THE MUMMY. 203
her court, and amongst the rest, Elvira, plainly
attired in a robe of dark grey silk. No orna-
ments shone amongst her golden tresses, and
her naturally fair complexion seemed faded to
a sickly and unnatural whiteness.
The indignation of Clara could scarcely be
restrained at this sight; but Cheops laying his
hand upon her arm, they stood suddenly before
the Queen.
“Ah ! who are these ?” cried Rosabella, start-
ing. Cheops took no notice of her surprise;
but, tuning his lute, began to sing.
“Loveliest Queen! oh deign to hear
The humblest of thy suppliants’ prayer;
Blandly on a stranger smile,
Who has sought thy happy Isle,
To feast his eyes upon that face,
Where majesty combines with grace.”
“What means this mummery f" asked Rosa-
bella; “how came these minstrels here P"
“It is doubtless a device of the King,”
returned some of her ladies, “to amuse your
majesty.”
Rosabella smiled; attentions were now so
rare upon the part of Edmund towards her,


204 THE MUM MY.
that she felt gratified that it should even be
supposed he wished to please her, and, address-
ing the minstrel more graciously, asked what
brought him to England. He sung his
reply:
“Full often in my native land
I’ve struck my lute with bolder hand;
But with the liberties of Greece,
Her minstrel's harmony must cease.
Since Iwan with a soldier's frown
Hath seized and worn th’ imperial crown,
Those hearts which spurn despotic power
Must wander from their native bower,
And in far distant lands must try
The meaner arts of palmistry.
Give then your hand, fair lady give,
And let the wandering minstrel live:
So shall he tell the varied fate
That may that lovely form await.
To other strains his voice is mute;
Broken his heart, unstrung his lute!”
“What say you, ladies,” said Rosabella, again
smiling, “shall we hear our destiny?”
The ladies, delighted at any thing that pro-
mised an interruption to the general gloom
which hung over Rosabella's court, gladly as-
sented; and, to Clara's infinite surprise, the
Mummy addressed a few doggrel verses to each.


THE MUMMY. 205
When Elvira's turn came, Clara perceived her
colour was heightened, and that she trembled
excessively, yet the Mummy's verses to her
were as unmeaning as to the rest. Whilst this
scene was passing, the King and Father Mor-
ris approached. The former stood silent and
abstracted, apparently quite unconscious of
the group before him; whilst Father Morris
gazed at them intently, with a satirical sneer
upon his countenance, as though in thorough
contempt for such folly.
“How can you endure such mummery P”
said he to Rosabella, after a short pause.
“Any thing for a change,” said she, sighing.
The father's dark eye glanced upon the King,
and then upon Rosabella, as with a gloomy
frown he stalked on. The Queen coloured, and
hastily waving her hand to the minstrel, as a
sign that he might depart, she turned away,
and the disappointed ladies were reluctantly
obliged to follow in her train. In a few mi-
nutes, however, a page returned with a chain
and a purse of gold, which he gave the min-
strels, and retired. Clara was upon the point
of refusing her share of this bounty, but a


206 THE MUMMY.
look from the Mummy made her sensible of
her error, and she took it without uttering a
syllable. Her hesitation, however, did not pass
unnoticed, and she found, to her infinite horror,
when they quitted the palace, that two of the
Queen's servants had followed them. Clara
trembled excessively, and clung tightly to the
Mummy's arm for protection; but that myste-
rious being still stalked on with the same indif.
ference as before. Clara longed to give him
some intimation of the danger that awaited
him, but she could not speak; the words seem-
ed to swell in her throat and almost choke her,
whilst she found herself dragged along by an
irresistible influence, too powerful to admit of
her even struggling against it. Inexpressible
agony, however, seized her as she found her-
self hurried on towards the river; and when,
as they reached the brink, she beheld Cheops
stamp, with almost supernatural force, upon the
fragile bridge which stretched across the wa-
ter, and saw the slender plank sink beneath his
weight, she could bear no more, and, screaming
with horror, rushed forwards to save him. A
strong arm, however, pulled her back; she felt


THE MUMMY. 207
herself whirled round, and for the moment her
senses seemed to desert her. The next instant
she found she had been dragged under some
bushes, and saw their pursuers rush down to
the place where the broken bridge had been.
“They are gone, by Jupiter ſ” said one; “I
heard them fall into the water. It was a tre-
mendous crash.”
“ I heard them,” returned the other;
“they fell as heavy as lead; and how they
screamed !”
“The young one screamed,” said the first;
“but the old one groaned.”
“What does it matter,” resumed the second,
“whether they screamed or groaned 2 They
are gone to the devil a little before their time,
and so we have only to go back as we came.
Between ourselves, it was nonsense to take the
trouble to watch them. They were evidently
only what they seemed to be ; and even Father
Morris, suspicious as he is, gave us no orders
about them.”
“Thy dull head cannot see,” said the first.
“The father's negligence was the very motive
of my vigilance. Things are not with him as


208 THE MUMMY.
they have been—he wants to rule the Queen
with a rod of iron, and Rosabella will not en-
dure control. Now, it struck me when I
saw the youth's hesitation, that all was not
right, and, I thought, if I could discover what
had escaped him—”
“I see,” said the other; “his lifeless trunk
might have had the honour of serving as a step-
ping-stone to enable you to rise.”
“It was possible,” returned the other, laugh-
ing; and they retired, their voices gradually
dying away till they became inaudible in the
distance. Clara now perceived that the Mummy
stood beside her. He did not speak, but press-
ed his finger upon his lips in token of silence,
and for some minutes they stood fixed to the
spot:—till, as the last faint echo of the servants'
footsteps died away, he again seized the arm of
Clara, and hurried her away towards a gloomy
CaVe.
They stopped at the entrance; and though
the poor girl was still too much terrified to
speak, yet she felt somewhat relieved by the
discovery that the Mummy had evidently saved
her from danger, instead of, as she feared, pre-


THE MUMMY. 209
cipitating her into it. She still gazed with awe,
however, at his strange unearthly figure, as he
stood with his eyes fixed earnestly upon a star,
and apparently occupied in muttering prayers
addressed to it. -
“Clara!” at length said he, his deep, full
voice echoing solemnly through the vaulted
cave; “Clara !” again he repeated, whilst the
blood of his terrified companion seemed to curdle
in her veins at the awful sound. She, however,
slowly and tremblingly advanced—he grasped
her arm—she attempted to shrink back, but
seemed fixed as though by magic;—“Hear
me,” continued the Mummy, in a low, hollow
tone, which appeared to rise from the tomb,-
“Elvira understood my signal, and she will
soon be here; but you must do the rest. Prince
Ferdinand keeps guard to-night. Pass through
this cave; the outlet will bring you to his sta-
tion. Throw yourself at his feet, and appeal to
his compassion in whatever language the feel-
ings of the moment may inspire. He will
readily listen to you, for he has not forgotten
your visit to him in prison, and will swear to
devote himself to your service. Tell him you


210 THE MUMMY.
accept his offers, and entreat him to convey
yourself and the Queen to Ireland—where
Roderick will receive and protect you. He
will immediately comply ; and his being the
companion of your flight, will induce the be-
lief that you are gone to Germany, and will con-
sequently prevent the least danger of pursuit.”
At this moment a slight figure, wrapped in a
large mantle, appeared at the entrance of the
cavern. “Elvira !” cried Cheops, and the
stranger sprang forward. “Then I am right,”
exclaimed she, whilst her whole frame trembled
with agitation.
“This is your guide,” said Cheops, in his
deep sepulchral tone ; “follow her and you
will do well. Farewell ! but we shall meet
again.” Then bending over her, he pressed
his lips to her forehead, and to that of Clara.
Both shuddered at the touch of those cold
marble lips, and an icy chill ran through their
veins, as the fearful conviction that their com-
panion was no earthly being thrilled in their
bosoms. Even the strongest minds dread super-
natural horrors, and our fair fugitives turned
involuntarily away. When they looked again,
the Mummy was gone, and the darkness ap-


THE MUMMY. 211
peared so profound that they were obliged to
grope their way cautiously along. Fearing
alike to remain or to advance, they proceeded
with trembling steps slowly along a narrow
passage; their minds filled with that vague
sense of danger that generally attends the
want of light, when Imagination pictures ter-
rors which do not really exist, and Fancy lends
her aid to magnify those which do.
By degrees, however, the Queen and her com-
panion became accustomed to the darkness; and
as the pupils of their eyes dilated, they were
enabled to discern the objects around them.
Innumerable fantastic shapes, however, now ap-
peared to flit before them, and grim giants to
frown awfully from every corner of the gloomy
vault they were traversing. The dim and indis-
tinct light threw a misty veil round the pro-
jecting corners of the rocks that gave them a
fearful and unnatural grandeur; whilst the fair
friends, overpowered with terror, gazed timidly
around, and stood a few moments not daring to
advance into the darker abysses of the caverns,
and yet dreading alike to remain where they
were, or to return.
“We must go on,” said Elvira at length,


212 T H E M UMMY.
her voice echoing through the cave, till she
started at the sound.
“Oh God "cried Clara; “hark | a thousand
mocking demons seem to repeat from every
rock “Go on 1’”
“Go on " again rang in a thousand varied
tones through the cavern.
“Let us proceed,” whispered Elvira, shud-
dering; “this is a fearful place "
And they hurried on as fast as their trem-
bling limbs could carry them, along a dark and
gloomy passage, leading in the direction pointed
out by the Mummy. In a few minutes, how-
ever, a bright though glimmering light ap-
peared afar off, like a star, which, gleaming
through the darkness, seemed a beacon of hope
to guide them on to happiness. A slight cur-
rent of air, too, now blew freshly in their faces,
and their spirits rose, as with quickened steps
they hastened onward in the direction from
whence it appeared to proceed.
The light now seemed rapidly to enlarge,
and the wind blew more freshly, whilst the
Queen and her companion distinctly heard the
heavy stamping of horses, which vibrated fear-


THE MUMMY. 213
fully on the hollow ground, and grew louder
and louder every moment as they advanced.
“Ah ! what is that?” cried Elvira trembling,
clinging closer to her companion.
“It is the bivouack of Prince Ferdinand,”
replied Clara; “the Mummy told me we should
find him here, and that he would aid us.”
“Ah, that fearful Mummy,” murmured
Elvira softly; “if he should deceive us, and
this should be only a plan to betray us to our
enemies P."
“Fear not,” said Clara; “come what may,
we must dare the worst.”
They had now reached the outlet of the
cavern, and found an opening large enough to
admit of a single person. Cautiously advancing
towards it, they paused for a few moments ere
they descended, to gaze upon the scene below.
A troop of soldiers were scattered round, in
various attitudes of repose, under a small grove
of trees, whilst their horses grazed at a little
distance. The prince alone seemed awake, and
he lay apart from his companions, stretched
upon a grassy bank, a thick tree spreading
above him, his head resting upon his hand,


214 THE MUMMY.
and his eyes fixed upon the ground. The
moon shone brightly, and played upon the
prince's polished armour, like summer light-
ning dancing on a lake. His helmet was
thrown aside, and his countenance looked pale
and sad, whilst his frequent sighs betrayed the
uneasiness of his mind.
“Let us advance,” said Clara, “ and try to
move him to compassion.”
Elvira complied; and with light and timid
steps, fearing almost to breathe, lest they should
break the slumbers of their enemies, they ap-
proached the prince. All was still, save the
hard breathing of the sleeping soldiers, and
the measured champing of the horses; their
stately figures strongly relieved by the dark
grey sky beyond, and their long manes and
tails sweeping the ground. The prince was
now listlessly tracing figures in the grass with
the scabbard of his sword: he started as they
approached, and hastily demanded the cause of
their intrusion.
“Mercy ſ” cried Elvira, sinking upon her
knees before him ; “mercy ſ” She could say
no more, but gasping for breath, she stretched


THE MUMMY. 215
out her arms imploringly, whilst every thing
around seemed to swim before her eyes, and the
figures of the prince, the trees, the horses, and
the sleeping soldiers, appeared all dilated to
gigantic magnitude. She entirely forgot the
pathetic appeal she had intended making to the
prince's feelings, and every faculty seemed sus-
pended in the intenseness of her anxiety.
“For Heaven's sake, good youth,” exclaimed
the prince, addressing Clara, “explain the
meaning of this scene ! Why does this lovely
female kneel to me, and why does she implore
my mercy P"
“Because she has no other hope, save in that
and Heaven,” said Clara solemnly; “it is the
Queen.”
“Elvira !” cried the prince: then raising her
eagerly, he continued—“Your Majesty may
command my services; only tell me how I can
assist you.”
A few words from Clara explained the ur-
gency of their situation; and the prince, promi-
sing to meet them with horses in an hour, per-
suaded them to return to the cavern till he
should join them. Heavily rolled the minutes


216 THE MUMMY.
of this tedious hour, which seemed destined
never to have an end, till the nerves of Elvira
and Clara were wrought up to such a pitch of
agony, that death would have appeared a bless-
ing. At length, the prince came, bringing with
him only his faithful Hans.
The sight of him was sufficient to rouse the
almost fainting spirits of the Queen; and, with-
out speaking a single word, she and Clara
hurried after their conductors, to the wood
where the horses were waiting for them.
They mounted, still in perfect silence, and
hurried through the most intricate paths they
could find; for, as morning dawned, they feared
inevitable destruction. Before it became quite
light, however, they had reached a thick wood,
near the centre of which, they found a half
ruined hut ; and here did the ci-devant Queen
of England and her suite try to obtain a few
hours' repose. But, alas ! sleep fled from Elvira's
eyes; she could not forget she was a fugitive in
her own kingdom, flying with terror from those
very people who, but a few months before, had
almost worshipped her as a goddess; and not
even the exhaustion of her body could overcome


THE MUMMY. 217
the hurry of her spirits, whilst every time she
closed her eyes, and felt a soft dose creeping
over her troubled senses, she started up again
in horror, fancying her pursuers had over-
taken her.
Consternation reigned in the palace when the
flight of Elvira, and the defection of Prince Fer-
dinand were made known there. “She is gone
to Germany ſ” was the universal cry, and troops
were directly dispatched to all the sea-ports,
whilst a whole fleet of balloons were ordered to
scour the air in all directions, and arrest every
aërial vehicle they should meet with, whose pas-
sengers could not give a perfectly satisfactory
account of themselves. These commissions were
executed to the letter, as the guards now sought
by extra diligence to excuse the negligence with
which they had suffered the Queen to escape;
and numerous were the wandering lovers, ab-
sconding clerks, and unfaithful wives, who were
brought before the Council instead of Elvira
and the German Prince, of whom, however,
nothing could be heard, their measures hav-
ing been taken too well to expose them to
detection.
WOL. III. L


218 THE MUMMY.
In the mean time, the hat and mantle of Clara
having been found upon the banks of the river,
the duke and Sir Ambrose were inconsolable;
and dispatched emissaries every where in search
of her. Amongst the rest, Father Murphy and
Abelard were sent to the summer palace of the
Queen, to inquire if she had there been heard
of Rosabella and her Court, however, had re-
moved to London immediately upon the flight
of Elvira being discovered, and the disconsolate
searchers having inquired of every one they
met in vain, wandered through the gardens,
restless and forlorn, till at last they found the
mysterious cavern. The aspect of the place was
dreary in the extreme: a few stunted shrubs
grew upon the banks of a dark, dull rivulet, and
Father Murphy shivered and crossed himself as
he looked around.
“Och, murther and this is an awful place,
Mr. Abelard,” said he ; “and I'm after think-
ing the sooner we get out of it the better.”
“Ah, what is that f° cried the butler, spring-
ing forward eagerly, and snatching at some-
thing in the bushes that looked white.
“It is Clara's pocket-handkerchief, poor


THE MUMMY. 219
ſº
darling !” said the friar; “see, here is her name
worked upon it by her own pretty fingers:”
and as he turned to examine it, his foot slipped,
and he rolled into the water, floundering about
like a huge porpoise.
“Oh dear ! oh dear!” cried Abelard, “he will
certainly be drowned. Submersion in an aqueous
fluid is almost always destructive of animal life,
and I see little chance that he has of escape.”
“Ochſ and will ye let me drown while ye're
talking 2" asked the indignant priest. “Before
it's the good-natured thing ye’d be doing in
pulling me out, will ye let me be suffocated f"
“No, no, certainly not ſ” returned Abelard ;
“my agony is unspeakable at your distress.
I only doubt how I shall be able to raise you
without a lever or pully. The application of
the mechanical powers—”
“May go to the devil,” cried Father Mur-
phy, as he crawled out without assistance;
“and so you would have let me drown, whilst
you were talking of the mechanical powers ?”
“Excuse me, father,” returned Abelard;
“friendship is a powerful affection of the
human mind; it invigorates, it warms.”
I, 2


220 THE MUMMY.
“Does it,” said the priest, shaking himself
like a water-spaniel; “then I should be very
glad to have a little of it at present, for I am
shivering with cold; to say nothing of being so
hungry that I could eat my fingers.”
“I am surprised to hear you talk of being
hungry, father,” said Abelard ; “you are surely
too fat to feel any craving for food. Fat, you
know, is a kind of intermedium through which
the nutritive matter extracted from the food,
must pass before it is assimilated to repair the
loss of the individual. It thus forms a kind
of magazine to supply his wants; and a fat man
may abstain from food much longer than ano-
ther, because, during this abstinence, the collect-
ed fat is rapidly re-absorbed.”
Father Murphy did not speak, but his look
was sufficient, and his teeth clattering in his
head afforded an ample commentary upon the
text.
“You seem cold also,” said the pedantic but-
ler; “but that must be a mistake, for animal
oil is universally allowed to be a bad conduc.
tor of caloric.” -
“The devil take your caloric,” cried Father


THE MUMMY. 221
Murphy, again forgetting his holy office in his
anger: “I suppose you'll want to persuade
me that I have no feeling next.”
“That is far from impossible,” replied Abe-
lard, with the most provoking gravity; “for fat,
by surrounding the extremities of the nerves,
always obviates inordinate sensibility. At
the same time, pray do not let me be mis-
understood:—I do not say that fat people can
do entirely without eating, for the indivisi-
bility and individuality of the living body can
only be maintained by an incessant change of
the particles which enter into its composition; :
though merely part—”
“Hold, hold, for Heaven's sake!” groaned
Father Murphy.
“ –Part of the animal food is reduced into
chyle,” resumed Abelard; “and, as you doubt-
less know, another part becomes bones; in fact,
the bones are merely secretory organs incrusted
with phosphate of lime. The lymphatic vessels
remove this salt—”
“Oh ſ” groaned Father Murphy, “all this
is very fine, but it does not make me one whit
less hungry. O that I had a broiled rump-


222 THE MUMMY.
steak at this moment, smoking hot and swim-
ming in gravy, with a lump of fresh butter ſ”
“Hark!” cried Abelard, “the vibration of
the air that strikes upon the tympanum of my
ears, gives intimation of the approach of some
tangible object.”
“Alas! alas !” cried the priest, “it is cer-
tainly the spirits returned, that carried away
poor Clara. Poor dear girl that was cer-
tainly her pocket-handkerchief.”
“I despair of finding her,” said the butler.
“Despair is sinful, my son,” replied the
friar; “misfortunes are sent to try us, and we
ought to bear them with resignation, and with-
out uttering a single murmur.”
“But I thought you were even now com-
plaining of being hungry, father ?” said Abelard
with the utmost simplicity.
“True, true !” replied the priest, a little dis-
concerted by this remark; “but—but—”
“It is one thing to preach, and another to
practise,” resumed the butler, smiling; “is it
not, father ? However, I certainly heard a
noise; and if any one finds us here, we shall
be ruined.”


THE MUMMY. 223
“Och never mind that,” said Father Mur-
phy; “for that we are already, ye know.”
“Who have we here P" cried some soldiers,
who now descended into the cave; and who
as before-mentioned, were particularly alert
in performing their duty in examining all
strangers.
“And is it me ye are asking that f° de-
manded Father Murphy P “for if it is, it's of
no manner of use; for if I were to set about
telling you, it's a hundred to one if ever ye got
to the bottom of it.”
“Is it possible P" cried one of the soldiers;
“surely my ears deceive me, or that is the
voice of Father Murphy ſ”
“Sure and it is ſ” said the reverend father ;
“and whose should it be but my own? D'ye
think I'd use that of another person f"
“No, no ſ” returned the soldier, laughing;
“but my astonishment was, to find the owner of
the voice so near me. Though, now I think of
it, it is not at all surprising, as the Duke of
Cornwall is at the palace hard by, and you of
course are with him.” -
“And how can I be with him,” asked the


224 THE MUMMY.
literal Father Murphy, “when I am here 2
Now if an Irishman had said such a thing,
they'd have called it a bull.”
“Well, well, my good friend,” said the sol-
dier, “we will not quarrel for words. I suppose
you came down with the duke P’’
“And if you do, you never were more mis-
taken in your whole life!”
“I cannot in the least comprehend you.”
“I don't know how ye should, for I hav'n't
begun to explain myself yet: nor should I fi-
nish if I were to work at it all day; and so,
as the duke is here, we'll just go to him, if
ye plase.”
The duke, already miserable at the loss of
Clara, had no sooner heard of the escape of his
daughter, than he had determined to visit the
place where she had been, principally from that
restless desire of change which generally haunts
the unhappy; and he was now as much sur-
prised as the soldier to see Father Murphy
there. He felt grateful, however, to the priest
for his assiduous search for Clara; but as the
adventure of the handkerchief rested entirely
upon the father's conviction of its identity—


T H E M UMM Y. 225
the handkerchief itself having been lost in the
holy father's unfortunate tumble into the wa-
ter—the duke considered the whole adven-
ture as rather apocryphal. He felt, however,
consoled by it, though he scarcely knew why;
and returned to his friend Sir Ambrose in
much better spirits than he had left him.
In the mean time, the party of Elvira did
not dare to leave the hut in which they had re-
mained pent up the whole day; their horses
being crowded within its walls, as well as them-
selves, to prevent the possibility of discovery.
At length, the shades of evening began to fall,
and they again set forward at a rapid pace.
The agony they had suffered all day from fear
of detection—the narrow space in which they
had been cooped up, together with want of
food, had exhausted the Queen so much, that
the morning found her unable to proceed with-
out refreshment, and about daybreak they
were obliged to approach a cottage to implore
assistance.
The cottager and his son were out at work;
but the woman of the house agreed to give
the fugitives the shelter they requested. The
L 5


226 Thr MUMMY.
prince, delighted at receiving this permission,
flew back to the Queen to lift her from her
horse; but, alas ! Elvira was not in a state to
enjoy even the most welcome tidings. Pale and
livid as a corpse, her head hung upon the
prince's shoulder as he bore her into the house,
and her terrified friends thought she had ex-
pired. A little warm milk, however, revived
her, and she opened her eyes.
“I am ready—quite ready—to go on,” said
she, gasping for utterance, and again sinking
back in a fainting fit.
“It is impossible she can proceed in this
state,” said the prince to Clara, in a whisper;
“what will become of us?”
“We must remain here quietly, till she is
better,” said Clara.
“But if we should be pursued and taken f"
“We cannot die better than in such a cause,”
said the heroic girl.
“It is strange,” said the prince, looking at
her earnestly, “that the Queen has been able
to inspire such enthusiastic devotion in such a
mere boy.”
Clara blushed, and cast her eyes upon the


THE MUMMY. 227
ground, whilst the prince gazed upon her
blushing cheeks still more earnestly, till she
turned away from him abashed. He took her
hand; “I cannot be mistaken,” said he, “it
is, it is Miss Montagu !” -
Clara's agitation betrayed her. “I must
attend the Queen,” said she, breaking from him ;
and the prince, respecting the awkwardness of
her situation, forbore to urge her farther: he
felt, however, completely happy. Clara was
too artless to conceal the interest he had ex-
cited in her breast, and it was not in the nature
of man to be indifferent to the devotion of so
young and lovely a creature. His eyes, how-
ever, alone expressed his happiness; and Clara,
who felt his delicacy in refraining from making
any farther observations on her disguise, found
her love for him increased tenfold by his for-
bearance.
A few hours' repose restored Elvira so much,
that she wished to pursue her journey imme-
diately, and it was with the greatest difficulty
that the prince persuaded her to wait till night-
fall. “You must recruit your strength,” said
he, “ or you will never be able to plead your


228 THE MUMMY.
cause with Roderick. He is too stern a hero
to be won as I was.”
“Oh, it is impossible to describe how I dread
to meet him,” cried Elvira; “I tremble at his
name. A being so fierce and stern as he is,
will perhaps not even condescend to listen to a
woman's prayer, and he will spurn me from him.”
“Impossible ſ” cried the prince; “though, I
own, I wish we could do without him.”
Whilst the principals were thus employed,
the cottager's wife was endeavouring to learn
from Hans who and what they were. “That
poor lady seemed dreadfully tired,” said she.
“When she came, she looked just like a drooping
daffadowndilly; when the gentleman lifted her
from her horse—oh it was quite moving to
see her "
“Ja (" said Hans.
“However, though her illness should occa-
sion a little delay,” continued the cottager; “I
opine that you must be unreasonable to grum-
ble, when you consider the delightful occasion
it affords you of refreshing your olfactory nerves
by partaking of a little of this odoriferous
atmosphere.”
-


THE MUMMY. 229
“My what nerves f" asked Hans.
“Your olfactory nerves,”
replied the learned
cottager, with a look of the greatest possible
contempt: “that is, the nerves that line the
membrane of the nasal organ. Every child
knows that the nasal fossae are formed to re-
ceive sensations, as by their depth and extent
a larger surface is given to the pituitary mem-
brane, and these soft sinuses, or cavities, are en-
abled to retain a greater mass of air loaded with
odoriferous matter.”
Poor Hans stood aghast at this explanation,
which he found something like that said to be
given by Dr. Johnson, when he called net-work
a complicated concatenation of rectangular an-
gles; and afraid to speak, lest he should draw
upon himself a new volley of words as astound-
ing as the last, he remained silent, staring at his
companions with much the same kind of feeling
as that with which a wild man of the woods
just caught, might be supposed to gaze upon
enlightened Europeans.
“Can you give me some more warm milk f"
asked Clara, who now descended in search of
refreshments for the Queen.


230 THE - MUMMY.
“Do you think so much of the tepid lacteous
fluid good for the lady ?” asked the cottager, as
she put some milk into a saucepan.
“She can take nothing else,” returned Clara.
“How delightfully that girl sings!” continued
she, listening with rapture to a milk-maid, who
was chanting an Italian bravura as she was
milking her cow.
“Yes,” replied the cottager; “Angelica
sings well. The parieties of her larynx are in a
very tense condition, and her trachea is quite
cartilaginous. But here comes my good man,”
continued she ; “he has been hard at work all
day in the roads, and I am sure he must want
some refreshment.”
“I do indeed feel excessive lassitude, missis,”
said the cottager, as he came in ; “and I want
something to eat. What have ye got? Do see,
will you, for it's dreadful hard work breaking
stones; most we had to-day were primitive
limestone, but I found a few fine specimens of
quartz. The crystals were quite rhomboidal, and
I stopped at least half an hour admiring them.”
“Rock crystals are often found amongst
quartz,” said his wife; “so I don't think you


thE MUMMY. 231
had any occasion to lose your time in admiring
them, when, you know, you break stones by
measure, and your wife and children are starving
for want of bread.”
“Do not distress yourself upon that head,
my good woman,” said Clara; “we have mo-
ney, and our gratitude will not permit you to
want any thing that we can give you.”
“Thank you, thank you,” cried the woman;
“it’s a pleasure to serve a generous gentleman
like your honour.”
“What a charming voice you have " said
Clara, turning away to avoid the woman's
praises, and addressing herself to the milk-maid;
who, having finished her task, now stepped over
the stile that divided the field from the garden
of the cottage, with a pail of milk upon her
head, and advanced gracefully in measured
steps towards them.
“I am very happy to have pleased you,
Sir,” replied the girl, dropping her foot into the
fourth position, as she made an elegant curtsy,
and then glided gracefully on.
“Stay, stay " cried Clara; “won't you give
us another song before you go?”


232 THE MU M MY.
“You must excuse me, Sir,” said the girl,
again gracefully curtsying ; “I am exceed-
ingly sorry to be obliged to refuse a gentleman
of your appearance ; but singing requires an
alternate enlargement and contraction of the
glottis, an elevation and depression of the larynx,
and an elongation and shortening of the neck,
very difficult to be performed with a pail of
milk upon one's head.”
“Set down the pail, then,” said Clara.
“Indeed I can't, Sir ; for I have not a mo-
ment to spare. I just met some gentlemen
of my acquaintance on the hill, and as I expect
them here every moment, I must snatch an in-
stant or two to arrange my toilette.”
“Gentlemen of your acquaintance 1" cried
the mother; “what gentlemen can you have
met with here, child, that know you ?”
“My cousin John that went for a soldier
some time since, and a party of his compa-
nions.”
“And what brings them in these parts P No
good, I fear; for John was always a wild good-
for-nothing lad.”
“It is no evil, I assure you, mother,” said


THE MUMMY. 233
Angelica pertly ; “but you are always fancy-
ing the worst. John is become a man of con-
sequence now, and he is at the head of a party
of soldiers, searching for some state prisoners.
He ‘ll be made a captain if he finds them :
and I hope he will, with all my heart.”
“Where are they now P” asked the mother.
“In the wood,” replied the girl; “and my
brother is gone to help them to search, as he’ll
get a share of the reward if they find the fu-
gitives whilst he is with them.”
“And you'd go too, if you'd any wit,” said
the wife to her husband, who had now seated
himself comfortably before the fire, and seem-
ed very unwilling to be disturbed. Inspired,
however, by his wife's remonstrances, he roused
himself, and, stretching his heavy limbs, rolled
rather than walked away. Angelica had also
retired, and Clara was left alone with the wo-
man. It has already been mentioned, that pre-
sence of mind was one of Clara's distinguish-
ing characteristics; and, perceiving the danger
of the Queen, she was aware not a moment
was to be lost. The observations of the wo-
man to her husband, and, in fact, her whole


234 The MUMMY.
manner, showed that avarice was her master
passion, and upon this hint Clara spoke. She
offered her abundance of gold; she enlarged
upon the greediness of the soldiers, who, if
she waited for their approach, would perhaps
cheat her of her share in the promised reward,
or, at least, give her such a trifle as would not
to be worth having; and at last drew forth the
glittering metal and spread it before her eyes.
Gold softens the hardest heart, and the cot-
tager's wife could resist no longer, but promised
to connive at their escape.
Clara instantly ordered Hans to prepare the
horses; and, informing the prince and Elvira of
what had passed, the whole party again set for-
ward on their eventful journey.


THE MUMMY. 235
CHAPTER VII.
IN the mean time, Roderick had been com-
pletely victorious in Spain. He had reached
Madrid and established Don Pedro as King ;
and was now on his return to Seville, where he
had left M. de Mallet and his charming daugh-
ter. Edric, of course, accompanied him; but
the rest of the army had marched to Cadiz to
embark, the Greek page only attending upon
his master.
“Well, Edric ſ” said the King, laughing, as
they approached Seville, “does not your heart
beat with pleasure at the thought of quitting
Spain?”
“How can you torment me so, Roderick P”
“Torment you ! why I thought you would
be in raptures; though I must own, if you are,


236 THE MUMMY.
they are the most melancholy raptures I ever
beheld in my life.”
“This raillery is not generous. It is un-
worthy of you, I own I love Mademoiselle
de Mallet—but I despair.” -
“And why P”
“Alas! how can I ask her to share the for-
tunes of a banished man P”
“Am not I your friend ?”
“I know it; but I cannot brook dependence
even upon you.”
“I do not wish you to be dependent; but
what can I do to serve you? Shall I make
war upon this cross old father of yours?”
“Oh, do not speak of him so lightly I Say
what you please of me, but spare my father ſ”
“I respect your feelings; and as I can say
no good of him, I will have the discretion to
be silent.”
Edric felt no inclination to reply to this re-
mark, and they travelled on in perfect silence
till they reached Seville. Here they found
every thing changed: the town had been par-
tially re-built, and the lovely groves of orange
and myrtle trees in the vicinity, glowing with


THE MUMMY. 237
all the rich luxuriance of a southern spring,
gave no idea of the scene of ruin and desolation
it had before presented. They inquired for
the house of M. de Mallet, and upon entering
the inner square, or court-yard, they found him
seated under the piazza that stretched round
it, enjoying the evening breeze, whilst his fair
daughter was occupied in reading to him.
A fountain played in the centre of the court,
its sparkling spray descending in silvery show-
ers; whilst innumerable orange trees and flow-
ering shrubs, which were placed around, per-
fumed the air with their delicious fragrance;
and a light awning, spread over the roof of the
court, mellowed the light to a soft though glow-
ing tinge, which gave an air of voluptuous lan-
guor to the whole scene.
The delight felt by M. de Mallet and his
daughter at again seeing their deliverers was
enthusiastic; and though it was most openly ex-
pressed by the father, the burning cheeks and
sparkling eyes of Pauline spoke quite as intel-
ligibly her silent transport. -
“We have long expected you,” said M. de
Mallet; “for I cannot describe how anxious


THE MUMMY. 239
face with an expression of the bitterest anguish,
as though she implored him not to desert her.
M. de Mallet's agitation was equal to her own,
and, as he fondly regarded her, he continued:
“Yes, miserable being that I am | I am not
her father. Alas! often when I have beheld her
enduring hunger and thirst for my sake; when
I have seen her delicate frame exhausted with
fatigue or shivering with cold, whilst still with
angelic sweetness she has seemed to forget her
own sufferings, and to think only of alleviating
mine—oh, then, how I have burned to tell her
that I did not deserve her kindness, and that I
was an alien from her blood ſ”
“Oh father my dearest father ſ” cried Pau-
line, her eyes streaming with tears; “what do
you not deserve from me? What is there that
I could do, that could half express my love
and gratitude Alas! though I am not your
child, the tender care you took of my infancy—
your kindness, your affection—” Pauline could
not continue, her sobs impeded her utterance.
“My dear child ſ” said M. de Mallet: and
folding her in his arms, he mingled his tears
with hers; whilst Roderick and Edric were both


THE MUMMY. 241
girl, about two years old, playing at her feet.
My poor wife was always passionately fond of
children, though Heaven had never blest us with
any; and attracted by the exquisite beauty of the
little cherub, she took it in her arms and began
to caress it.
“‘Is your honour fond of children P' asked the
woman with an evident affectation of vulgarity.
“‘I dote upon them, replied my wife. ‘ Oh
Louis,' continued she, addressing me in French,
“if I could have such an angel as this to supply
my place to you, I think I could be resigned to
die.”
“‘If your honours like the child, you may
have her,” said the woman.
“I started: but recollecting that, from the
over education of the lower classes in England,
they were all linguists; the circumstance of the
woman's understanding what we said, did not ap-
pear extraordinary. “She is my child,’ con-
tinued the woman; ‘I live hard by—and have
only taken shelter here from the storm. The
landlady knows me very well. My husband has
been dead some months; and, as I find it hard
work to maintain myself and the child too, I
WOL. III. M


242 The MUMMY.
own I shall be glad to place her in hands where
she is sure to be taken care of.”
“The woman's tale seemed plausible; and my
wife and I were easily induced to conclude the
bargain that gave us possession of Pauline ! We
visited the cottage of this woman the next morn-
ing, and found her story true, excepting that
she had only lived there a few weeks. This,
however, appeared immaterial; as indeed she
had not fixed any definite time for the period of
her residence, and gave some reason which I
have forgotten for having left her former abode
when her husband died. Soon after this, we
left England, taking Pauline with us: her
beauty increased with her years; and when my
poor wife died, which she did a few months
after our return to Switzerland, Pauline formed
the sole consolation of my life. Two or three
years afterwards, a friend of mine visiting Eng-
land called by my desire upon the reputed mo-
ther of Pauline. He found the cottage deserted,
and the landlady of the inn told him, that the
woman had left the place a few hours after we
had done so ourselves.
“This circumstance, combined with the evi-


THE MUMMY. 243
dently affected vulgarity of the woman, and
the elegance and delicacy of Pauline, has al-
ways induced me to suspect I was the dupe of a
deception, and that the child had been stolen
from parents in a superior rank of life to that in
which I found her. Whether my conjectures
are correct, I know not; but when I have
surveyed the beauty and graces of my child,
my breast has smote me for confining her to my
own humble station, and I have determined.
whenever circumstances would permit, to take
her to England, and endeavour, if possible, to
elucidate the mystery that hangs over her
destiny.”
“Accompany me then to Ireland,” said Ro-
derick, “and when you, have stayed there till you
are tired, if you still wish to prosecute your re-
searches, I will give you letters of introduc-
tion to the English Court, and I sincerely hope
we may find our fair friend to be a princess
of the blood at least.”
In the mean time, M. de Mallet's narrative
had caused the greatest agitation in the breasts
of Edric and Pauline. “Not his daughter ſ”
thought the former; “whose can she be, then P”
M 2


244 THE MUMMY.
and his imagination ran wild amongst a variety
of dreams and fancies, each more extravagant
than the last: for, to suppose the elegant and
accomplished Pauline the daughter of a mere
peasant was impossible; and the transporting
hope that she might yet be his, with the consent
of his father and the approbation of all his
friends, danced before him; whilst Pauline, un-
certain what to think, and unable to analyze
her own sensations, felt, even amidst the deso-
lation in which the avowal of M. de Mallet had
involved her, a faint emotion of pleasure still
throb at her heart, when she reflected that now
her country was that of her lover's, and that it
was possible—she dared go no farther, for her
senses seemed unable to support the intoxicat-
ing thoughts of what might follow.
It had been agreed that our friends should
remain a few days at Seville, to give the army
at Cadiz time to recover from the fatigue of
their march previous to their embarkation; but
the morning after their arrival, a courier arrived
with despatches from England, which made Ro-
derick impatient to leave Spain immediately.
He was at breakfast when these letters, whicl


THE MUMMY, 245
had been forwarded to him from Cadiz, were
put into his hands. He changed colour, and,
starting from his seat, begged Edric to follow
him into the garden.
“Good God, what is the matter P” asked M.
de Mallet.
“Nothing, nothing!” replied Roderick; “but
that I must return to Ireland immediately.”
And waving his hand as though to repel far-
ther inquiry, he left the room; Edric followed
in silence. “Edric,” said the Irish Monarch,
throwing himself into a garden-seat and burying
his face in his hands; “Elvira is dethroned,
and perhaps murdered, all owing to my cursed
folly in remaining so long in Spain.”
“Elvira !” exclaimed Edric, looking at his
friend in the most profound amazement; for he
could not imagine why he took so deep an in-
terest in her fate.
“I see your astonishment, Edric,” resumed
the King; “but I have not now time to explain
whys and wherefores. Suffice it to say, that I
adore Elvira, and if she perish, I will not
survive her.”
A piercing shriek burst from the thicket as


246 THE MUMMY.
he uttered these words, and both Edric and
Roderick sprang involuntarily to the spot—it
was vacant; they searched the wood, but no
creature was to be seen.
“It was fancy,” said Edric.
“It was the Mummy,” murmured the King,
“come to chide me for doubting his promises.
for an instant.”
“The Mummy f" cried Edric; “good God!
what do you mean?” and he gazed with horror
upon the wild and haggard countenance of his
friend, who he seriously believed had become
distracted. His look recalled the fleeting senses
of Roderick, and with a ghastly smile he replied,
“I am not mad, though I have enough to make
me so. We must return to Ireland without a
moment's delay, and there reinforce my army.
Elvira must be restored immediately, for her
life is in danger from every moment's delay.”
“I hope not,” said Edric ; “for, though I
detest Rosabella, I do not think her capable of
assassination.”
“If she be not, Father Morris is,” returned
Roderick, in a low voice, with a look of intense
feeling.


THE MUMMY. 247
Edric turned pale.—“In the name of God,
tell me who and what you are P" said he ear-
nestly ; “and how you have obtained this close
knowledge of the English Court.”
“I am called the Devil's favourite, you
know,” returned Roderick, smiling, in spite of
his distress, at his friend's embarrassment, “and
it would be very hard if my patron did not give
me a hint now and then upon subjects of im-
portance.”
“How can you jest upon such a topic P”
asked Edric reproachfully.
“True,” returned Roderick; “as you say,
the subject is not one to joke upon: for we
must quit Seville in a few hours, and leave M.
de Mallet and the pretty Pauline to follow us
under the escort of my Greek page; or rather,
what perhaps you would prefer, you shall stay
behind to take care of them, and Alexis and I
will proceed alone.”
“Oh Roderick ſ” exclaimed Edric, “how can
you imagine I could leave you?”
“Not even for Pauline?” - asked the King,
smiling.
“Not even for Pauline,” repeated Edric


248 THE MUMMY.
firmly ; “my love for you surpasses even the
devoted love of woman; and whilst I breathe,
neither peril nor pleasure shall tear me from
your side.”
“My dear Edric ſ” said Roderick; the tears
glistening in his eyes: the next instant, how-
ever, he dashed them away, and added gaily,
“But come, we must go and make our bows,
and take our leave like pretty behaved cava-
liers; and you may trust my discretion, Edric,
that I will not tell Pauline of your want of
gallantry.”
The Greek page looked the image of despair,
when he heard his master's commands that he
should remain behind; and passions, dark as
the lowering heavens before a storm, hung upon
his brow. He offered no opposition, however,
to his master's will; and crossing his arms upon
his breast, bent his head in token of obedience.
The voyage of Edric and Roderick to Ire-
land was rapid and favourable in the extreme ;
and on their arrival, their reception was enthu-
siastic. The Irish are proverbially warm-
hearted, and the rapture with which they now
greeted their victorious Monarch defies descrip-


THE MUMMY. 249
tion. Triumphal arches were erected, the
walls were hung with tapestry, and the streets
strewed with flowers, to greet his entry into his
capital. Roderick did not refuse these ho-
nours ; but it was evident to all who knew
him well, that his mind was occupied with other
things; and, in fact, he took his measures so
promptly and so decidedly, that, by the time
his army, with M. de Mallet and his daughter,
Dr. Entwerfen, and the Greek page, arrived
from Spain, he had assembled a force quite
sufficient for the restoration of the Queen.
The very day that Elvira fled in terror from
the power of her rival, the combined army of
Roderick began its march to hasten to her
assistance; and it had nearly advanced through
the whole of the tunnel under the sea, which
separates the two kingdoms, without opposi-
tion. Orders were now given for the soldiers
to rest for the night, and tents were rapidly
pitched for that purpose. Roderick, however,
could not sleep; and he stood with his arms
folded, gazing at the singular scene before him,
the innumerable torches fixed against the dark
sides of the tunnel shedding their lucid light
M 5


250 THE MUMMY.
around, and showing distinctly the long line of
white tents that stretched as far as the eye could
reach ; whilst the distant roaring of the sea
above their heads, sounded like the hoarse
murmur of gathering thunder.
Whilst Roderick was thus engaged, Edric
perceived a group of people enter the cavern
from the English side, and eagerly inquire for
the King. They were brought before him ;
they were four in number: but one stayed be-
hind, holding their horses, which looked dread-
fully jaded and distressed; whilst the other
three, a man and two women, approached and
threw themselves at Roderick’s feet: “Good
God l it is Elvira !” exclaimed he.
“Henry Seymour !” screamed the Queen,
and fell senseless upon the ground.
In the mean time all was anarchy in England.
Disgusted with the world and with himself, the
King secluded himself from society, and passed
his time entirely upon a small estate adjoining
the chateau of his father. Sir Ambrose and he
often met; but they never spoke, though their
hearts yearned towards each other. With all
his good qualities, Sir Ambrose was prejudiced


THE MU MMY. 251
and obstinate; he loved his son passionately,
but he could not endure a rebel, and the poor
old man was fast sinking into the grave, for
want of the very consolation he would not con-
descend to receive.
Edmund also was wretched : the habits of
respect in which he had been always brought up
towards his father, prevented his daring to in-
trude upon him against his will, though he would
willingly have relinquished his empty title of
King, and have exposed himself to all the miseries
of absolute want, to have obtained the privi-
lege of throwing himself upon his father's neck,
and receiving his forgiveness. The title of
Edmund was, indeed, now only an empty one.
Rosabella alone exercised the power of a Sove-
reign, and her haughty temper and capricious
tyranny made her universally detested. Mo-
narchs to be respected must be firm; and whilst
they continue to inspire respect, they may some-
times venture to be tyrants. But Rosabella was
no longer respected ; he was despised; and
the Commons finding themselves oppressed, and
their complaints completely unattended to, began
to regret the gentle sway of Elvira. “She, at


252 THE MUMMY.
least,” said they, “treated us with kindness; and
if she did refuse our petitions, it was with gen-
tleness. But now we are treated with scorn,
and trampled beneath the feet, not only of the
Queen, but of her confessor. We will not, we
cannot bear it.”
Sad and mournful also was the life of the
Duke of Cornwall: for days and hours he
would wander in the gardens of his chateau with
his friend Sir Ambrose, and lament sorrowful-
ly over the complete destruction of his hopes.
In these walks they often saw Edmund, glid-
ing at a distance like a solitary ghost, and
plunging amongst the trees when he thought
himself observed. “How changed Edmund is
become !” said the duke. “Alas ! how guilt cor-
rodes the heart! He has destroyed my daughter,
and he is now suffering the penalty of his crime.”
“Say not so,” rejoined Sir Ambrose, who
could not bear to hear his son blamed by any
one but himself; “if Elvira had not eloped with
Prince Ferdinand—”
“Eloped with Prince Ferdinand I’’ cried the
duke, “I did not expect this. What I can
you, Sir Ambrose, join in the general voice P


254 THE MUMMY.
father; who, though he sees, is willing to ex-
cuse the faults of his offspring: your judgment
condemns Elvira, even more than mine.”
“No, no,-if I thought her wrong, I should
not blame her as you do. Your partiality to
Edmund blinds you, and you fancy my poor
child has a thousand faults, because she was
not sensible to the merit of your son.”
“You mistake me quite; my opinion of Elvira
would be just the same if Edmund were not in
existence: though I acknowledge frankly, that
every time I see his fine noble countenance,
worn with care—his pale cheeks and sunken
eyes—I feel a pang through my inmost soul.
It is a strange infatuation that she should re-
pulse my noble boy, and yet elope so readily
with a youth she scarcely knew.”
“Take care what you say, Sir Ambrose—
take care what you say,+I will not have my
child insulted.”
“I do not wish to insult her—I speak but
the truth—I do not even think her guilty,
though the whole Court rings with her shame.”
“Guilt 1 shame ! And this to me? Oh God 1
Oh God I have lived too long " To hear my


THE MUMMY. 255
child thus basely slandered, and be unable to
resent it !”
“Base ! and is this the conclusion of our
long friendship—Base! and have I lived to be
called base, for merely blaming a coquettish
wanton?”
“Wanton " cried the duke, and transport-
ed by his passion he struck Sir Ambrose vio-
lently. The aged baronet could not endure
this insult; his sword flew from his scabbard,
and in a few seconds these ancient friends were
engaged in mortal combat.
It was a shocking thing to see these two old
men, their white hair streaming in the wind—
their venerable features wrinkled with age, and
their feeble frames tottering for support—fight-
ing with all the vindictive fury of youth. How
fearful is the storm of passion . How vile the
human heart when left to its own workings
Every gentler feeling was extinguished in the
breasts of the two veterans, and only brutal
rage remained. For some time victory was
doubtful; but at last Sir Ambrose fell, and
in another moment the sword of his antagonist
would have passed through his bosom, had not


256 THE MUMMY.
a powerful arm arrested the stroke. It was
Edmund ! he had heard the clashing of swords
at a distance, and, rushing to the spot, arrived
just in time to prevent the fatal blow.
“Oh my fatherſ" cried Edmund with a
thrill of horror, “for God's sake, do not die
till you have forgiven me! He hears me not"
cried he, wringing his hands in unutterable an-
guish. “Oh, for mercy's sake, speak! Do not
destroy me.”
Sir Ambrose feebly opened his languid eyes:
“Farewell,” said he, faintly: “God bless you !”
“Oh, do you forgive me !” shrieked Ed-
mund, falling upon his knees.
“I do,” said Sir Ambrose : “ and—the-
duke;” the words feebly ebbed from his lips;
and, as he spoke, the fearful rattle of death
gurgled in his throat, and with a convulsive
sob he expired.
Sadly did the duke now gaze upon his fallen
foe, but when he found him dead he was dis-
tracted. Madly he tore his hair, and threw
himself upon the corpse; but his agonies were
in vain, the vital spark was extinct. Edmund
stood also for some seconds gazing upon the


THE MUMMY. 257
body, without any distinct idea existing in his
mind; but when the whole sad reality rushed
upon him, he could not endure his own
thoughts, and darted away with the velocity
of lightning. The duke heeded not his de-
parture; he had thrown himself upon the
body of his departed friend, and the whole
universe seemed to contain for him only that
bloody corpse. “I have killed him I have
killed him 1" cried he, “I have killed him ſ”
His fearful shrieks soon drew many persons
to the spot. “I have killed him 1" screamed
the duke, in answer to all interrogations; “I
have killed him " Abelard was one of the
first collected round this mournful spectacle.
“What can we do 2" said he to Father Mur-
phy, -“the case seems desperate.”
“I’ve killed him ſ” again screamed the duke
in agony.
“He’s entirely mad,” said Father Murphy,
“ and there's no doubt of it.”
“I’ve killed him ſ” repeated the duke, with a
still more piercing shriek; “I’ve killed him "
“Oh he is mad,” cried all the spectators,
whilst they attempted to remove him from the


258 THE MUMMY.
spot. With infinite difficulty they succeeded,
he still clinging to the corpse, and screaming
“I’ve killed him l’ till his voice was lost in
the distance.
Whilst these scenes were transacting at the
English Court, the army of Roderick marched
through the kingdom without opposition, for
the people every where, tired of the tyranny of
her rival, received Elvira with open arms, and
the chief nobility vied with each other in open-
ing their houses to entertain her and her suite
as she passed along.
It was a fine evening in March, and the
might was clear, though cold, when Elvira, with
hurried steps, paced the fine terrace belong-
ing to the castle of one of these noblemen. The
Queen was evidently lost in reflection, and as she
occasionally stopped, she threw back her long
hair and looked up to the sky with an air of in-
tense anxiety. “It is a lovely night !” murmur-
ed she: “Heaven grant that peace may still at-
tend us yet, I fear I know not what of danger.
Oh, if the forces of Rosabella should resist—
and Roderick should fall—and for me—”
She paused, for the thought seemed too dread-


THE MUMMY. 259
ful for endurance. The moon shone brightly
in the heavens, and the stars sparkled like dia-
monds on the clear blue sky; whilst Elvira,
raising her eyes to heaven, and clasping her
hands together, seemed lost in silent prayer.
Her fair face, shaded by her long black veil,
looked even more lovely than usual, in the soft
light thrown upon it; and, as she stood thus ap-
parently quite absorbed in inward devotion, she
seemed almost a celestial being descended for
the moment upon earth, and about to remount
to her native skies.
A figure, wrapped in a dark long cloak, now
appeared at the extremity of the terrace, and
advanced slowly towards the Queen. Two
other figures also emerged from the shade, and
followed, though at a considerable distance.
Elvira was not aware of their approach till
the first figure stood behind her, and seizing her
arms, threw a cloak over her head to stifle her
cries; and then, with the help of the others,
was hurrying her off. At this moment, Ro-
derick sprang actively upon the terrace, and
with one blow from his vigorous arm, felled
the first assailant to the ground. Then, draw-


THE MUMMY. 261
cover herself, or to be aware of what had hap-
pened. The two assistants had fled the moment
they perceived the King; and Elvira, with
trembling steps and pallid cheeks, approached
the spot where Roderick knelt beside the bleed-
ing page.
Kneeling beside him, she attempted to staunch
the blood which flowed rapidly from the wound,
but in vain; for the boy's life was evidently
fast ebbing.
Brian, a servant of the King, who had fol-
lowed his master to the terrace, aided her endea-
vours; but Roderick remained fixed and im-
moveable, his eyes chained as by the power of
fascination upon the page, who now slowly un-
closed his eyelids, and heaving a deep sigh,
fixed his languid eyes upon those of Roderick.
“Zoe "cried the King.
“Yes,” returned the page, gasping for
breath, and speaking with difficulty ; “Zoe
I am indeed that wretch. I loved you, Ro-
derick; I would have died for you. I do die
for you; but—but—Elvira—”
“What meant your outrage upon her f"
“What did it mean F" cried Zoe, her eyes


262 THE MUMMY.
flashing fire, and her whole frame supported by
a supernatural energy; “did I not see that you
loved her, and could I endure to resign you to
another? No,” continued she, starting from the
ground; “I would have killed her, and, had
she perished, I should have died contented.”
The violence of the action made the blood
gush in torrents from her wound; and, pale and
feeble, her failing eyes closed. She staggered
a few paces, fell, heaved one convulsive struggle,
and Zoe was no more
Sadly did Roderick gaze upon that form
which had so lately thrilled with feeling—now
cold and inanimate at his feet: the victim of pas-
sion lay before him. Her hopes, her fears, her
rage, and her love, had passed away, and there
her body remained a senseless clod of clay,
till it should be resolved into its original ele-
ments. By this time, some of the servants of
the castle, who had been summoned by Brian,
approached; and the old Earl of Warwick, in
whose castle the fatal scene had taken place,
rushed upon the terrace, calling wildly upon
his people to save the Queen.
“Is it the Lady Elvira that ye mane f" asked


THE MUMMY. 263
Brian; “Och an’t plase yere honour, and she's
safe, every inch of her.”
“And what has been the matter?” asked
the Earl.
“Och and your lordship may well ask that ;
but the divil a bit any body can tell you but
one, and that's myself. Ye see, my master, his
most gracious Majesty, and me were walking in
the garden; that is, he was walking and I was
watching, for fear any harm should happen to
him ; for the life of such as he isn't to be
trusted to chance in a strange country, and I
guess he was thinking of the Queen, though he
never said nothing about it. And so when we
came near the terrace, it was so dark, ye couldn't
see yere hand before you. And then the moon
peeped through the clouds, like a pretty face
looking through a ground-glass window. And
then she came out as bright as a silver mirror;
and the Queen looked so pretty as she stood
praying, that my master couldn't find it in his
heart to interrupt her; ºnd for me, I wasn't
the man to be even thinking of such a thing.
And then two black-looking spalpeens, bad luck
to them stole out behind her, and there wasn't


THE MUMMY. 265
her. The idol of her fancy, indeed, stood be-
fore her; for Roderick realized all her wildest
dreams. He became her god. His heroism,
his person, his talents, caught her imagination,
and the violence of her passions completed
the delirium of her soul. Notwithstanding,
however, the intensity of her feelings, no
thought of grosser texture contaminated her
mind. Her love was as that of angels, pure
and undefiled:—she regarded Roderick as a
thing enshrined, almost too holy for mortal
vows to worship; and she would have consi-
dered it sacrilege to dare even to think of
him as a husband.
With these feelings, she had watched over
him, with almost a mother's love; and when
she informed him of the conspiracy against him,
she resolved, with all the romantic self-devo-
tion of a fond woman, to follow him unknown
and in disguise; without any plan, however,
but that of being near him, or any hope
but that of contributing to his happiness.
Money, and the assistance of one or two devoted
servants, who contrived to follow in Roderick's
train, had enabled her to accomplish this. She
WOL. III. N


THE MUMMY. 267
much so, as when we seem, as at present, secluded
from the world. Then I could forget your
rank, and all the artificial restraints grandeur
has thrown around you; and without remember-
ing that I am Roderick, and you Elvira, think
only of a pair of simple lovers, whose weightiest
care was their attendance upon their flocks, and
whose only happiness consisted in loving and
being beloved.”
“Alas, Roderick 1" replied Elvira; “do not
speak of love. After the dreadful scene we have
just witnessed, I tremble at the passion. No, be
my friend, Roderick. Friendship is more sure
than love. On that, we may confidently rely 3
but passion destroys itself with what it feeds
upon—intense feelings cannot last.”
“Oh Elvira! say not so,” cried Roderick,
fixing his eyes earnestly upon her blushing
countenance—whilst she, trembling and agi-
tated, betrayed by her confusion the passion she
would have fain concealed.
How feeble are words to express the trans-
ports of such a moment "Tis the oasis in the
desert of life—the bright gem that casts a
radiance even upon the dross with which it is
N 2


268 THE MUMMY.
surrounded. Man is born to misery—thick
clouds hang over him, and obscure his path—
dangers await him at every step. One single
ray alone breaks through the gloom—bright as
the fairy dreams of childhood; but, alas !
equally fleeting. 'Tis love—pure, passionate,
unsophisticated love—the only glimpse of hea-
ven vouchsafed on earth to man. And this was
what was now felt by Roderick and Elvira, as
he, throwing himself at her feet, vowed eternal
constancy, and persuaded her to acknowledge
that her hopes of earthly happiness centered
in him alone.
But why do I profane such a scene, by at-
tempting to describe it 2 Those who have
loved, have only to recollect what they felt upon
a similar occasion; and to those who have not,
— Heaven help them —not all the eloquence
of Cicero himself could give the least idea
of any thing of the kind. Suffice it to say,
that before Roderick and Elvira parted, she
consented, if success should crown their efforts,
to become his bride.
The state of England, at this moment, defies
description. The death of Sir Ambrose and


THE MUMMY. 269
the insanity of the Duke of Cornwall were
events so shocking in themselves, that it was
not surprising they produced a violent effect
upon the minds of the people. Edmund had
disappeared, and Rosabella, instigated by Fa-
ther Morris and Marianne, became every
day more rapacious and tyrannical; whilst
even they quarrelled amongst themselves, and
wretchedness prevailed throughout the king-
dom.
This was the state of the public mind, when
the news of the invasion of Roderick first
reached the ears of Rosabella.
“Marianne !” she exclaimed, “summon Fa-
ther Morris. We are ruined,” continued she,
as the reverend father entered—“absolutely
ruined. Roderick is invincible, and he sup-
ports Elvira ! Where is Cheops ?”
“Ay!” returned Father Morris, “where
is Cheops? It is that accursed fiend that has
led us on to destruction ? His counsels have
destroyed us; for, though plausible in appear-
ance, they have been as deceitful as the oracles
of old.”
“Yet you trusted him ſ” said Rosabella.


270 THE MUMMY.
“I hated him from the first; but you trusted
him. You thought him all perfection : he flat-
tered your vanity, and you weakly believed
every thing that he asserted.”
“Weakly " cried Father Morris, his lips
quivering with rage.
“Yes, weakly ſ” returned Rosabella; “for
a child would have seen through his artifices;
but you were deceived by them, and have
been his dupe, his tool, his plaything.”
“This to me!” cried Father Morris, gnash-
ing his teeth together with passion.
“Yes, to you,” returned Rosabella coolly;
“for why should I longer conceal my senti-
ments P I will no longer be your slave. You
have made me deserted by my husband—hated
by my subjects—and detested by myself. I
will, therefore, no longer follow your councils;
from henceforward I will act for myself.
Adieu, we meet no more as friends !”
And as she spoke, she walked out of the
room, leaving the priest motionless with asto-
nishment.—“This to me !” cried he to Mari-
anne, as soon as he recovered himself sufficiently
to speak—“to me, who have sacrificed every


272 THE MUMMY.
serted by the man she adores, can feel for
her.”
“And who first gained her Edmund 3 Would
he ever have become her husband, had not I in-
duced him?”
“I believe not ; neither would she have been
Queen but for you.”
“No-no. Oh! how I have toiled for that
ungrateful girl! How I have adored her ſ”
“You have been a devoted father.”
“Have I not, Marianne P I have at least
endeavoured to expiate my sin. I have done
penance—I have spent nights unnumbered in
painful vigils. I have scourged my body, till
the feeble flesh has shrunk beneath the torture;
yet still my mind remains unappeased. Re-
morse still gnaws my vitals | Oh, Mariannel
how poor is earthly grandeur to a mind dis-
eased ſ”
In this manner did these companions in ini-
quity confer; till at length, hating each other
and themselves, they gave vent to mutual up-
braiding, and parted with undisguised hatred
and contempt. Such, indeed, is the disgusting
nature of sin, that though a man may shut his


THE MUMMY. 273
eyes to his own defects, or rather, see them
through the magic prism of self-love; yet he
almost always abhors them when he sees them
reflected in another.
Thus it was with Father Morris.—Marianne
had been his associate in many scenes of vice;
he had, in fact, first led her from the paths of
virtue, and, as usual in such cases, he now
hated the creature he had made.
Father Morris was indeed that brother of the
Duke of Cornwall, whose crimes and punish-
ment have been before slightly hinted at. He
had married in early life a beautiful and accom-
plished woman; but, instigated by the machi-
nations of Marianne, whom he had previously
seduced and abandoned, he had become jealous
of her, and, in a paroxysm of rage, had de-
prived her of life. This was the crime he had
since endeavoured to expiate by the penance of
his whole life. Wain, however, had been his
endeavour ! The mortification of the body
avails little, where the humiliation of the spirit
is wanting; and Father Morris, notwithstand-
ing his apparent repentance, was proud, envious,
and intolerant.
N 5


274 THE MUMMY.
In a fit of remorse, after the death of his
wife, he had embraced a monastic life, and in
order to subject himself to a perpetual penance,
had placed himself as father confessor to Sir
Ambrose. No situation, in fact, could have
been more painful to a proud spirit than this;
yet this daily misery Father Morris felt a pride
in supporting without murmuring.
It is strange, but true, that haughty spirits
sometimes feel almost pleasure in trying their
powers of endurance to the utmost ; for there is
a self-satisfaction in thinking we have borne
what seems almost too much for mortals, that
often consoles a man under the acutest agonies.
This was the case with Father Morris, and
the daily tortures which he endured without
shrinking, almost reconciled him to himself.
Ambition, however, was still his master-passion,
and as his monastic vows prevented its indul-
gence in his own person, he devoted himself to
the advancement of his child. How he suc-
ceeded, and how he was rewarded, has been
already shown.


the MUMMY. 275
CHAPTER VIII.
“HAve you heard the news f" asked Lord
Maysworth one morning, bustling into the break-
fast-room of Lord Gustavus de Montfort.
“What is it f" demanded that noble lord,
who was sitting at breakfast with his usual
satellites.
“The King of Ireland has arrived at Oxford
with an immense army, intending to re-establish
Elvira.”
“Impossible !”
cried Lord Gustavus.
“Impossible ſ” echoed the satellites.
“Something must be done,” said Lord Mays-
worth.
“Thinking as I think, and as I am confident
every one who hears me must think, or at least,


276 THE MUMMY.
ought to think,” said Lord Gustavus; “ no
government can be worse than the one we have
at present.”
“The Queen has not performed one of her
promises,” subjoined Dr. Hardman; “and her
caprice and cruelty are beyond endurance.”
“Her extravagance is unbounded,” said Lord
Maysworth.
“And her arrogance extreme,” rejoined Lord
Gustavus.
The satellites shook their heads in chorus.
“In my opinion,” said Lord Maysworth,
“we had better seek Elvira and try to pro-
pitiate her. She was used to be mild and
gentle.”
“But will she not be too much exasperated
with our former desertion, to listen to us?” asked
Dr. Hardman.
“I think not,” said Lord Gustavus pomp-
ously.
The result of this conference may be easily
imagined. Rosabella found herself deserted ;
many who would not have had courage to aban-
don her cause, had they not found precedents


THE MUMMY. 977
for their conduct, fled in the suite of the rebel
lords. Roderick rapidly advanced, and his army
was every day augmented by the discontented
English.
“I am lost, Marianne "cried the Queen, when
she found the enemy was within a day's march
of her capital; “I am ruined past redemption.”
“Do not desert yourself,” said Marianne,
“ and you may yet be saved. If you despair, it
is a virtual acknowledgment of the weakness of
your cause.”
“What will become of me?” continued Ro-
sabella, wringing her hands; “no earthly help
can save me.”
“But courage may,” said the deep voice of
Cheops, who had entered the room unobserved.
“Ah (" screamed Rosabella; “it is the
fiend I"
Cheops laughed, and the unearthly sound
rang hoarsely in the ears of his auditors.
“Speak, demon l or whatever thou art,”
cried Marianne ; “shall we perish P”
“You shall meet with your reward I" said
the Mummy calmly: “Are you satisfied ?”


278 THE MUMMY.
“Oh, Rosabella I" screamed Father Morris,
rushing into the room in an agony of despair;
“save her | save my child!”
“Your child?” cried Rosabella; “can it be
possible that you are my father f"
“I am—I am;-but fly—fly—and I forgive
every thing; only let us fly ſ”
“Alas !” cried Marianne; “ he has but too
much reason for his agony. The enemy have
entered the city.”
“What will become of us?” ejaculated the
friar. “Fiend monster barbarian ſ” cried
he, addressing Cheops, and seizing him rough-
ly by the arm; “deliver us! It was thy ac-
cursed counsels which involved us in ruin.
Save us!”
“My counsels that led you to ruin "
re-
turned Cheops, with one of his bitter laughs;
“say rather, your own passions. Did I urge
you to murder Claudia 2 Nay, did I not save
Elvira P Did I not warn you that the throne
and misery were inseparably connected P And
have not all my promises been fulfilled to the
very letter?”


THE MUMMY. 279
“Yes, yes; to the letter,” returned Father
Morris; “but not in spirit.”
“By the sacred hawks of Osiris kept at
Edfou ! I swore Rosabella should be Queen,
and you her favourite minister.”
“Talk not of what is past,” cried the priest
impatiently; “tell me how to act. The foe
is at the gates of the palace.”
“Did you not say there was a secret pas-
sage, leading from this chamber f"
“There is 1 there is ſ” cried Father Mor-
ris, with rapture ; “we will there lie concealed,
and may surprise them.”
Cheops laughed :—“Am I still your foe!”
asked he, with his usual bitterness.
“Name it not, name it not l” cried Father
Morris; “we have not an instant to lose. Hur-
ry into the subterranean passage. I hear the
horses of the enemy in the court of the pa-
lace!”
“Thebes was perforated with passages,
yet she has fallen,” muttered Cheops, as he
followed the friar and Rosabella through
the opening into the secret chamber; Ma-


280 THE MUMMY.
rianne joined them, and the spring pannel
closed.
Nothing could be more flattering than the
reception Elvira met with from her people.
Roderick had placed her at the head of his army,
and the people hailed her appearance with rap-
ture. Not a blow had been struck, for the army
of Rosabella had joined her banners ; and El-
vira advanced to London without opposition.
Too mild and forgiving to indulge a single
feeling of revenge, she felt rejoiced that her
rival had escaped, and wished no pursuit to be
instituted.
Edric, however, was not so quiescent. A
thousand circumstances flashed upon his mind, to
prove that the accession of Rosabella had been
long planned by Father Morris, and he felt con-
vinced he had been the dupe of the plans they
had laid to induce him to quit the kingdom. -
“I will find him,” said he, “and expose
his infamy. He shall not escape me thus.”
Wain, however, was his search, and he returned
to the room so lately occupied by Rosabella
restless and dispirited. Elvira was now in this


THE MUMMY. 281
splendid chamber, surrounded by her friends;
and, trembling with agitation, was awaiting the
expected arrival of her father.
“Oh, Heavens !” exclaimed she, as the poor
old man was led in ; “Roderick my beloved
Roderick I can we not save him "
“Alas!” returned Roderick, “I fear
but compose yourself, my dearest girl; all may
yet go well.”
“Where is Elvira P my child, my darling
Elvira !” cried the old man : “I did not kill
her No,” whispered he, drawing near to Ro-
derick; “I killed him, it is true, but it was for
her sake. He slandered my child, and I could
not bear that.”
“Oh God 1 oh God I" cried Elvira ! “ have
mercy upon him It breaks my heart to
see him thus. Leave us, I implore you,” she
continued, addressing her friends; “I cannot
bear that even you should see the extent of
his malady. Leave him with me, and per-
haps my presence may recall his lost recollec-
tion.”
Finding opposition only increased her anx-


282 - THE MUMMY.
iety, her friends at length consented; and El-
vira was left alone with her father. Kneeling
by his side as he lay stretched upon a sofa,
the Queen endeavoured to console him ; but
he knew her not, and wrung her heart by call-
ing vehemently upon Elvira. “If I could see
my child,” said he, “I should die contented.
Call my child! where is Elvira 2 Yes, yes, I
know she is a Queen, and cannot come to me !
Yet I think even a Queen might look at her
poor old father: I only want her to look at
me!”
Whilst this scene was passing, Rosabella and
her friends lay concealed in the secret chamber;
and, through the moveable pannel, watched
every thing that passed.
“Now is the time,” cried Father Morris;
when he saw that Elvira, exhausted by her
grief, had hidden her face in her hands, to in-
dulge her tears unrestrainedly.
“You ensure your own destruction if you
kill her ſ” said Cheops.
“I care not,” returned Father Morris; and
removing the pannel, he approached. Elvira


THE MUMMY. • 283
saw him not ; and the shining dagger already
was aimed at her breast, when it caught the
eye of the maniac ; and returning reason flash-
ed through his mind.
“Edgar !” cried he, with a piercing scream,
“spare my child ſ”
The cry roused the friends of Elvira, who
had remained in the antechamber, and they
rushed in. In an instant the room was crowd-
ed; Father Morris was secured; and his con-
federates (from his having left the pannel open)
discovered.
“Edgar !” cried the duke; “yes, it is Ed-
gar ! my brother my only brother and this
is Elvira. She is not fled; I knew she was
not She is safe ſ”
“And is it possible,” cried Edric, “that
you can be Duke Edgar !”
“I am that wretch " said Father Morris.
“Then Rosabella is—”
“My child ! and for her I have become
the wretch I am ' Yet to her I have done my
duty; and if she be spared—”
“Ah!” cried M. de Mallet; “it is, it is—


284 THE MUMMY.
yes, I am not deceived, that is the woman who
sold us Pauline.”
“Who, which f" exclaimed Edric eagerly.
“There,” cried the Swiss, pointing to Ma-
rianne.
“Mariannel" exclaimed Edric.
“Yes,” said she, “Marianne . He is right;
it was I, and now is the moment of my ven-
geance. Seduced and deserted by this man,”
pointing to Father Morris, “my passions, al-
ways impetuous, panted for revenge. I insti-
gated him to murder the wife for whom he had
abandoned me—I stole his child and sold her
to a stranger—and I substituted my own wretch-
ed offspring, whom I had had by a man he
abhorred, in its place.”
“What " cried Father Morris, his livid
lips quivering with anguish; “is not Rosabella
my child?”
“No,” said Marianne; “twenty years ago I
sold your child to this gentleman,” pointing to
M. de Mallet. “He was a foreigner, and I
believed, by placing her in his hands, you
would never see her more.”


THE MUMMY. 289
woman that was my wife; and as for me, for-
get me !” - -
“Never !” said Elvira ; “ for never can I
forget your disinterested love and your devoted
affection. The heart, however, is capricious;
and mine, though sensible to your merits, was
destined for another.” -
“And well does that other deserve your
love;—for even jealousy itself must own that
Roderick is worthy to be your husband. Yes,
to him I can resign you. Farewell, Elvira ! you
shall never see me more | Let my brother take
my inheritance! May you be happy : God bless
you ! God bless you !” -
And starting from his knees, he disappeared,
before she could reply. -
The spirits of Elvira were agitated by this
event, which threw a damp over the remaining
festivities of the day; and, trembling and un-
nerved, she proceeded to the magnificent hall,
where a sumptuous banquet was prepared for
her reception. For some days after this event,
the attention of Roderick and Elvira was occu-
pied in arranging the different affairs of the
kingdom; whilst Edric and Pauline, with the
WOL. III. O


290 THE MUMMY.
old Duke of Cornwall, M. de Mallet, and Father
Murphy retired to the house of the former in
the country, where Dr. Entwerfen was already
comfortably established.
A thousand emotions swelled in the heart of
Edric as he approached this venerable mansion,
and saw again its well-known turrets peeping
through the trees. Strange, indeed, are the
feelings that oppress the mind, when the wan-
derer returns, after a long absence, to the ha-
bitation of his forefathers. A mingled crowd
of contradictory sensations, of disappointed
hopes, of undefined fears, float through his
fancy ; and, as well-remembered objects recal
the visions that formerly delighted him, he
starts at the difference the experience of their
fallacy has made in himself, and he sighs in
vain for a return of the blissful ignorance he
formerly despised. All too appears changed 1.
As the human mind judges only by comparison,
the eyes become dazzled by distant splendours,
and that which to the eyes of youth had ap-
peared superb, seems to the maturer judgment
of manhood, tame, vapid, and insipid, whilst
the imagination which had fondly cherished the


THE MUMMY. 291
favourite dreams of childhood, and decked them
in all the vivid colours of fancy, feels disap-
pointed and disgusted, though it scarce knows
why, to find the reality so different from the
image it had pictured to itself.
Such were the feelings of Edric as he entered
the grand hall of this residence of his ancestors,
and gazed upon the well-remembered faces of
the crowd of servants assembled to meet him.
At the head of these was Davis; his tall thin
figure waving to and fro, and his long thin
white hair floating upon his shoulders; and the
more spruce and gallant aspects of Abelard
and his devoted Eloisa, the late Mrs. Russell,
who had blest him with the possession of her
fair hand a few days before, and now stood
blushing and simpering, with all the affected
modesty of a bride of sixty, to receive the
congratulations of those around her.
“Welcome ! welcome, my dear Edric "cried-
Dr. Entwerfen, rushing down-stairs to meet
them, his sleeves tucked up, and his wig thrown
back, in a very experimental-philosophic man-
ner; “rejoice with me too, for I have recovered
my balloon My darling caoutchouc bottle of
o 2


292 THE MUMMY.
inflammability My immortalizing snuff, and,
more than all, my adored galvanic battery
Yes, my compendium of science, my epitome
of talent, and my most inestimable treasure, is
safe Not, indeed, that which was employed in
galvanizing the Mummy, but its counterpart,
its duplicate, its prototype. The Mummy
came to England, and the balloon being recog-
nized to be mine, it was placed in my apart-
ment, where it has remained ever since, stowed
up in safe but inglorious obscurity, till my
return.” .
“Och and that’s a clear case !” said Father
Murphy; “and there's no doubt of it.”
Leaving the delighted doctor to show the
treasures of his laboratory to M. de Mallet,
Edric retired to his chamber, and after survey-
ing again and again the well-known objects it
contained, he hurried to his favourite grove.
It is singular how inanimate objects, which
have been long unseen, recal the thoughts and
train of feelings indulged in when one last be-
held them: thus, the house, the groves, the
walks, the gardens, and the river, recalled all
its former longings to Edric's mind; and he


THE MUMMY. 293
again burnt to converse with a disembodied spi-
rit, as he entered the grove where he had for-
merly so often ruminated, and indulged dreams
wild and improbable as the delusions of deli-
rium. The day was beautiful; it was one of
those bright glowing mornings in April, when
dew drops hang upon every thorn, when the
sun shines brightly through the clear pure air,
and all nature seems awaking to new life and
vigour from repose.
Edric entered the grove, and threw himself
upon that very bank where he had reclined
only a few months before, under such different
feelings. The river, the grove, the bank, were
all the same; he only was changed. “And
yet,” said he, “is not my mind still as un-
settled as before ? Am I not still wandering
in a labyrinth of doubts P Unknowing where
to turn; and yet tormented with a restless de-
sire to discover my way. What can have become
of the Mummy, I so strangely resuscitated P
It is strange, that since the restoration of Elvira
it seems to have vanished, and yet all here speak
of it as of a living animated being. Would
that I could see it. O Cheops! Cheops—”


296 THE MUMMY. -
ed, and he mechanically followed his conduc-
tor almost without knowing whither he was
going.
At last the guide stopped—“This is the
tomb of Cheops,” said he “I suppose, Sir,
you will enter it alone.”
Edric started—the words of the guide seem-
ed to ring in his ears as the knell of death,
and he shuddered as the thought crossed his
mind that some horrid and appalling punish-
ment might even now await him for his
presumption. Desperately he snatched the
torch from the hands of his guide and ad-
vanced Alone.
Darkly did those gloomy vaults seem to
frown at his approach, and fearfully did his
footsteps resound as he slowly penetrated into
their deep recesses. At length, he reached
the tomb, but the brazen gates were closed,
and he attempted in vain to open them. He
placed the torch upon the ground, and again
tried to unclose the fatal portal ; he exerted
his whole strength, but still it resisted his ef-
forts. Rendered desperate, he now threw him-
self against the gates with almost superhuman


THE MUMMY. 299
wish to see thee; for ardently do I still desire
to know the secrets of the tomb.”
Cheops burst into one of his fearful laughs.
“Weak, silly worm are you not satisfied then P
How would this knowledge avail you? Has
any thing but misery attended your former re-
searches P And can any thing but misery at-
tend the knowledge you now covet P Learn
wisdom by experience Seek not to pry into
secrets denied to man If you wish still,
however, to be resolved of your doubts,
behold me ready to satisfy them; but, I warn
you, wretchedness will wait upon my words.”
“Then I no longer seek to hear them; for,
even weak as you esteem me, I can learn wis-
dom from experience. Thus, then, I tear the
tormenting doubts, that have so long haunted
ed me, from my mind, and bid them farewell
for ever !”
“It is well,” said Cheops, his eyes beaming
with joy. “Then my task is accomplished. I
have at last found a reasonable man. I honour
you, for you can command yourself, and now
you may command me.”


300 THE MUMMY.
“I wish it not,” said Edric.
“Have you no curiosity ?” asked the Mum-
my, with a ghastly smile.
“None,” returned Edric ; “ unless it be
that I would fain know your history, and
the meaning of the sculptures upon your
tomb.”
“What are they 7" demanded Cheops.
“A youthful warrior is bearing off a beau-
tiful woman in his arms, whilst an old man
laments bitterly in the distance.” . -
“I. was the warrior,” said Cheops; “and
the beautiful female was Arsinoë, I loved her,
and to gratify my impetuous passion I tore her
from the arms of her father by force.”
“The warrior is afterwards contending
with the old man who falls beneath his
blows—”
“He did, he did,” cried Cheops; “he died
by my hand; and eternal misery haunts me for
the deed.” -
“And this old man was—”
“My father ſ” cried the Mummy, writhing in
agony.
“And Arsinoë—”


302 THE MUM MY.
pect mercy P Rely not on your own strength—
seek not to pry into mysteries designed to be
concealed from man; and enjoy the comforts
within your reach—for know, that knowledge,
above the sphere of man's capacity, produces
only wretchedness; and that to be contented with
our station, and to make ourselves useful to
our fellow-creatures, is the only true path to
happiness.”
The Mummy ceased to speak, and his fea-
tures, which had appeared wild and animated
during his conversation with Edric, became
fixed—the unearthly lustre that had flashed
from his eyes, faded away, and gave place to
a glassy deadness—his limbs became rigid, and
as the light of the lamp gradually sunk to
less distinctness, the ghastly form of the Mum-
my seemed rapidly changing into stone. Edric
felt that the moment when it was possible
for him to hold communion with this strange
being was rapidly passing away, and almost
shrieked as he exclaimed, “One question :
only one ere it be too late.” The Mummy
feebly raised his languid eyelids, but Edric
felt his blood freeze at the unnatural glare.


THE MU M MY. 303
With a violent effort, however, he rouzed him-
self to speak. “Was it a human power that
dragged you from the tomb P’’ -
“The power that gave me life could alone
restore it,” replied the Mummy in slow mea-
sured accents, as it sank gradually back into
its former tomb. Edric shuddered, and in-
voluntarily rushed forward, but the Mummy
no longer lived or breathed. Cold, pale, and
inanimate it lay, as though its sleep of two
thousand years had never been broken.
“Oblivion laid him down upon his hearse 1"
and no mortal ever more could boast of hold-
ing converse with THE MUMMY.
TH E END.
LONDON :
PRINT En R Y s. AND R. BENT LEY, DoRSET STREET.


WORKS IN THE PRESS.
I.
THE O'BRIENS and THE O'FLAHERTY'S ;
a National Tale. By LADY MoRGAN. 4 vols.
“A plague o' both your houses!”—Shakspeare.
II.
FLIRTATION; a Novel. 3 vols. post 8vo.
“Are not they in the actual Pragtice of Guilt, who care not whether
they are thought Guilty or not f"—Spectator.
III.
HERBERT LACY ; a Novel. By the Author
of “ GRANBY.” 3 vols.
IV.
The RED ROVER. By the Author of “THE
SPY,” “THE PRAIRIE,” &c. 3 vols.
V.
SIR MICHAEL SCOTT; a Romance. By
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 3 vols.
w
VI.
CONFESSIONS of an OLD MAID. In 2 vols.
small 8vo,
“Now, good maids, you do me wrong; marry, do you, if you think I
could : aught to shock your self-love; trust me, I respect your delicacy
too much to be guilty of such misdoing."—Old Play.


POPULAR WORKS
LATELY PUBLISHED BY HENRY COLBURN,
NEW BURLINGTON_STREET.
I.
REUBEN APSLEY. By the Author of
“Brambletye House,” “The Tor Hill,” &c. In 3 vols.
post 8vo. 31.s. 6d.
“ Fie on ambition 1 Fie on myself! that have a sword, and yet am ready
to famish. These five days have I hid me in these woods, and durst not
peep out, for all the country is laid for me.”—Shakspeare. -
“Sir Walter Scott must learn to bear a rival near the throne. His
contemporaries are already beginning to pay a divided allegiance. They
think, and apparently . justice, that Horace Smith is second, and only
second, to the once sole monarch."—Monthly Magazine.
II.
The CAGOT'S HUT — The CONSCRIPT'S
BRIDE – and SEEING IS NOT BELIEVING — Being
a THIRD SERIES OF HIGHWAYS AND BY WAYS;
Or, Tales of the RoAD SIDE ; picked up in the French
Provinces, by a WALKING GENT LEMAN. In 3 vols, post
8vo. 31s. 6d.
III.
DE VERE, or the MAN of INDEPENDENCE.
By the Author of “Tremaine.” The Third Edition, com-
prised in 3 vols. 31s. 6d.
“De Vere is one of the ablest productions of its class which has ever
º ublished. We have met no work of such extraordinary merit.”—
it. Gaz.
“The author of De Vere has shown his unquestionable title to rank
among the true historical painters of manners and human nature.”—New
Monthly Magazine.
“ De Vere will be regarded in the light of a precious legacy, from an
artist of the very highest order.”—Mon. Rev.
IV.
BLUE-STOCKING HALL. A Novel. In 3
vols, post 8vo.
“From women’s eyes this doctrine is derived:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world.”
Love's Labour's Lost.


Popular Works lately Published by Henry Colburn.
V.
The NOWLANS. A SEcond SERIES of TALEs
by the O'HARA FAMILY., Second Edition. Dedicated to
Thomas Moore, Esq. 3 vols. post 8vo. 31s. 6d.
“The Author is truly a man of talent and genius.”—Lit. Gaz.
“The Author is one of the most masterly painters of uational character
that have yet appeared in .."; Review.
“Since the appearance of the earliest and best of the Series of Waverley
novels, nothing in the way of literature has so excited the public mind as
}. }; by the O'Hara Family.”—New Monthly Magazine (Article,
ashºopºe.
“We bid adieu to the Author with the highest opinion of his exalted
talents.”—Lit. Chron.
WI.
ENGLISH FASHIONABLES ABROAD ; a
Novel. In 3 vols. post 8vo. 31s. 6d.
“In the article of young ladies, unlike all other national manufactures,
our exports considerably exceed our imports. Gentlemen may travel to
study laws and politics, artists may travel to improve themselves, but few
girls leave their homes, ºf: on speculation.”—Introduction.
“This text is amusingly illustrated and exemplified by the author of
this work, who has given some sketches of speculating aunts, flirting
daughters, and mangeuvring mothers, that will startle some of our fashion-
able Anglo-Italians.”
VII.
The CONTINUATION of VIVIAN GREY.
Forming Vols. 3, 4, and 5. Second Edition, price 31s. 6d.
“We hail the author as a master in his art: and we may venture to
.. to the work he has produced, as at once a prognostic and accom-
p ishment of original invention, that rare faculty in the genius of this
age.
“These volumes abound with passages not surpassed for their beauty
in our literature. Delicacy aud sweetness are mingled with impressive
eloquence and energetic truth. The magic of the style simply consists in
the emotions of the writer. He is a thinker who makes others think; and
these volumes will be reperused at intervals with the delight of novelty.”
V III.
The NATCHEZ; an INDIAN TALE. By
the VISCOUNT DE CHATEAUBRIAND, Author of
“Atala,” “The Beauties of Christianity,” &c. &c. In 3
vols. small 8vo. 24s. ; French, 18s,
“The beautiful stories of Atala and Rene were merely episodes of the tale
of “The Natchez,” which, though lately published, .. thirty ;:
ago, in the desert, and beneath the huts of savages. The plot of this romance
is truly singular, it deviates from all beaten tracks, and exhibits manners
aud incidents to which Europe is an utter stranger.” -
“There are Scenes and Pörtraits in this Romance which the pencil of
genius has exquisitely touched; and which will ensure it fame and favour
of no trivial description.”—Literary Chron. -


Popular Works lately Published by Henry Colburn.
XV.
DE WAVASOUR : a Tale of the Fourteenth
Century. 3 vols. post 8vo. 31s. 6d.
“We feel confident in stating that this tale is the production of Lord
Blessington.”—Literary Gazette, May, 1826.
“His Lordship has chosen a remote era, and has carried to his investi-
gation the light-hearted, and, we were about to say, insolent spirit of cu-
riosity which characterizes the modern temper; and accordingly he has
drawn a picture, which we feel to be unusual, but are inclined to suspect
may be true."—New Monthly Magazine, June, 1826.
XVI.
THE GERMAN NOVELISTS : Tales selected
from ancient and modern Authors in that Language, from the
earliest period to the close of the Eighteenth Century; with
Critical and Biographical Notices. By THoMAs Roscoe,
Esq. In 4 vols. post 8vo. Price 38s. . .
“It will, we doubt not, be acknowledged, that Mr. Roscoe has accom
plished his interestiug, but laborious task, with great credit to his own skill
and research ;-and-has produced one of the most valuable books to be found
in the whole circle of fiction.”—Morning Chronicle.
XVII,
SANDOVAL ; or, the Freemason. A Tale of
the Spanish Revolution. By the Author of “Don Esteban.”
In 3 vols. post 8vo. 28s. 6d.
This Work is the production of a Spanish gentleman, who was personally
concerned in the scenes he describes. The private history of the Court at
Madrid—the Amours of its imbecile Monarch—the Lives and Luxuries of
the Monks—the Atrocities of the Magistracy, and the horrible system of
Espionage—are all unmasked with great dramatic effect.
XVIII.
RICHMOND : or, SCENES in the Life of a
BOW-STREET OFFICER ; drawn from his private Me-
moranda. 3 vols. post 8vo. 28s. 6d. -
“Some be’th of war and some of woe,
And some of fun and fudge also,
Some of escapes, and guile and death;
Also of Love for sooth there bº'th.”
XIX.
A NEW SERIES of ARABIAN NIGHTS’
ENTERTAINMENTS, selected from the original Oriental
MS., and now first translated into English by the Rev.
GEORGE LAMB. 3 vols. Small 8vo. 18s.
“The Arabian Tales possess other charms to recommend them, besides
the abundance of the marvellous and supernatural which they contain,
namely, the vivid picture they present ºp the customs, manners, preju-
dices, and .*. thing in the slightest degree referring to the nations
among whom the wondrous incidents they relate are supposed to have
occurred. Will it not, then, be a sufficient recommendation of these
volumes to state that they fall by no means short of their fºy admired
predecessors in this respect? Indeed, several of these Tales are more
than either works of fiction, or pictures of the customs, manners, &c. of
the nations of which, they treat. Some of them will be found to contain
much excellent moral instruction, and philosophical reflection. The ima-
fºe and descriptive parts will be found equally interesting and beau-
tiful.


rd
i-
I-
as
d
he
th
om
skill
ww"
of
in."
ºnally
uſt at
its of
em of
of a
Me.
ITS'
ºtal
Rey,
ºldt;
gºalſ,
pſiº.
natiºns
*O have
Ni West
imited
fe moſt
* St. of
contain
The ims'
ind beau’