THE
UNIVERSITY
OF CHICAGO
LIBRARY








~x.
F- º, º (º)
A. H E M U M M y
A TALE
of
THE TWENTY-SECOND CENTURY.
“Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up 2"
1 SAM., xxviii. 15.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
WOL. I.
LONDON :
HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1827.


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DORSET STREET.


735407
INTRODUCTION.
I HAVE long wished to write a novel, but I
could not determine what it was to be about.
I could not bear any thing common-place, and
I did not know what to do for a hero. Heroes
are generally so much alike, so monotonous, so
dreadfully insipid—so completely brothers of
one race, with the family likeness so amazingly
strong—“ This will not do for me,” thought I
as I sauntered listlessly down a shady lane, one
fine evening in June; “I must have something
new, something quite out of the beaten path :-
but what?—ay, that was the question. In vain
did I rack my brains—in vain did I search the


iv INTRODUCTION.
storehouse of my memory: I could think of no-
thing that had not been thought of before.
“It is very strange I" said I, as I walked
faster, as though I hoped the rapidity of my
motion would shake off the sluggishness of my
imagination. It was all in vain ' I struck my
forehead and called wit to my assistance, but
the malignant deity was deaf to my entreaty.
“Surely,” thought I, “the deep mine of inven-
tion cannot be worked out; there must be some
new ideas left, if I could but find them." To
find them, however, was the difficulty.
Thus lost in meditation, I walked onwards
till I reached the brow of a hill, and a superb
prospect burst upon me. A fertile valley richly
wooded, studded with sumptuous villas and
romantic cottages, and watered by a noble
river, that wound slowly its lazy course along,
spread beneath my feet; and lofty hills swell-
ing to the skies, their summit lost in clouds,
bounded the horizon. The sun was setting
in all its splendour, and its lingering rays
gave those glowing tints and deep masses of
shadow to the landscape that sometimes pro-


INTRODUCTION. V
duce so magical an effect. It was quite a
Claude Lorraine scene; and more fully to en-
joy it, I entered a hay-field, and seated myself
upon a grassy bank. The day had been sultry;
and the evening breeze, as it murmured through
the foliage, felt cool and refreshing. “It is a
lovely world,” thought I, “notwithstanding all
that cynics can say against it. Our own pas-
sions bring misery upon our heads, and then
we rail at the world, though we only are in
fault. Why should I seek to wander in the
regions of fiction ? Why not enjoy tranquilly
the blessings Heaven has bestowed upon me?”
I felt too indolent to answer my own ques-
tion; a delicious stillness crept over my senses,
and the heaving chaos of my ideas was lulled
to repose. A majestic oak stretched its gnarl-
ed arms in sullen dignity above my head;
myriads of busy insects buzzed around me; and
woodbines and wild roses, hanging from every
hedge, mingled their perfume with that of
the new-mown hay. I reclined languidly on
my grassy couch, listening to the indistinct
hum of the distant village, and feeling that de-


vi INTRODUCTION.
lightful sense of exemption from care, that a
faint murmur of bustle afar off gives to the
weary spirit, when suddenly the bells struck up
a joyous peal—the cheerful notes now swelling
loudly upon the ear, then sinking gently away
with the retiring breeze, and then again return-
ing with added sweetness. I listened with de-
light to their melody, till their softness seem-
ed to increase; the sounds became gradually
fainter and fainter; the landscape faded from
my sight; a soft languor crept over me: in
short, I slept.
It would be of no use to go to sleep with-
out dreaming ; and, accordingly, I had scarce-
ly closed my eyes when, methought, a spirit
stood before me. His head was crowned with
flowers; his azure wings fluttered in the breeze,
and a light drapery, like the fleecy vapour
that hangs upon the summit of a mountain,
floated round him. In his hand he held a
scroll, and his voice sounded soft and sweet
as the liquid melody of the nightingale.
“Take this,” said he, smiling benignantly;
“it is the Chronicle of a future age. Weave


INTRoDUction. vii
it into a story. It will so far gratify your
wishes, as to give you a hero totally different
from any hero that ever appeared before. You
hesitate,” continued he, again smiling, and re-
garding me earnestly : “I read your thoughts,
and see you fear to sketch the scenes of which
you are to write, because you imagine they
must be different from those with which you
are acquainted. This is a natural distrust: the
scenes will indeed be different from those you
now behold ; the whole face of society will be
changed: new governments will have arisen;
strange discoveries will be made, and stranger
modes of life adopted. The restless curiosity
and research of man will then have enabled him
to lift the veil from much which is (to him at
least) at present a mystery; and his powers
(both as regards mechanical agency and intel-
lectual knowledge) will be greatly enlarged.
But even then, in his plenitude of acquire-
ment, he will be made conscious of the infirmity
of his nature, and will be guilty of many absur-
dities which, in his less enlightened state, he
would feel ashamed to commit.


viii INTRODUCTION.
“To no one but yourself has this vision been
revealed: do not fear to behold it. Though
strange, it may be fully understood, for much
will still remain to connect that future age with
the present. The impulses and feelings of hu-
man creatures must, for the most part, be alike
in all ages: habits vary, but nature endures;
and the same passions were delineated, the
same weaknesses ridiculed, by Aristophanes,
Plautus, and Terence, as in after-times were
described by Shakspeare and Moliere; and as
they will be in the times of which you are to
write, by authors yet unknown.
“But you still hesitate ; you object that the
novelty of the allusions perplexes you. This is
quite a new kind of delicacy; as authors sel-
dom trouble themselves to become acquainted
with a subject before they begin to write upon
it. However, since you are so very scrupulous,
I will endeavour, if possible, to assist you.
Look around.”
I did so ; and saw, as in a magic glass, the
scenes and characters, which I shall now en-
deavour to pass before the eyes of the reader.


T H E M U M M Y.
CHAPTER I.
IN the year 2126, England enjoyed peace
and tranquillity under the absolute dominion
of a female sovereign. Numerous changes had
taken place for some centuries in the political
state of the country, and several forms of go-
vernment had been successively adopted and
destroyed, till, as is generally the case after vio-
lent revolutions, they all settled down into an
absolute monarchy. In the meantime, the reli-
gion of the country had been mutable as its
government; and in the end, by adopting Ca-
VOL. I. B


2 THE MUMMY.
tholicism, it seemed to have arrived at nearly
the same result: despotism in the state, in-
deed, naturally produces despotism in reli-
gion; the implicit faith and passive obedience
required in the one case, being the best of
all possible preparatives for the absolute sub-
mission of both mind and body necessary in
the other.
In former times, England had been blessed
with a mixed government and a tolerant religion,
under which the people had enjoyed as much
freedom as they perhaps ever can do, consis-
tently with their prosperity and happiness. It
is not in the nature of the human mind, how-
ever, to be contented: we must always either
hope or fear; and things at a distance appear
so much more beautiful than they do when we
approach them, that we always fancy what we
have not, infinitely superior to any thing we
have; and neglect enjoyments within our reach,
to pursue others, which, like ignes fatui,
elude our grasp at the very moment when we
hope we have attained them.
Thus it was with the people of England:—


THE MUMMY. 3
Not satisfied with being rich and prosperous,
they longed for something more. Abundance
of wealth caused wild schemes and gigantic
speculations; and though many failed, yet, as
some succeeded, the enormity of the sums
gained by the projectors, incited others to pur-
sue the same career. New countries were dis-
covered and civilized ; the whole earth was
brought to the highest pitch of cultivation;
every corner of it was explored; mountains were
levelled, mines were excavated, and the globe
racked to its centre. Nay, the air and sea did
not escape, and all nature was compelled to
submit to the overwhelming supremacy of
Man.
Still, however, the English people were not
contented:—enabled to gratify every wish till
satiety succeeded indulgence, they were still
unhappy; perhaps, precisely because they had
no longer any difficulties to encounter. In
the meantime, education had become universal,
and the technical terms of abstruse sciences
familiar to the lowest mechanics; whilst ques-
tions of religion, politics, and metaphysics, agi-
B 2


4. THE MUMMY.
tated by them daily, supplied that stimulus, for
which their minds, enervated by over cultiva-
tion, constantly craved. The consequences
may be readily conceived. It was impossible
for those to study deeply who had to labour
for their daily bread; and not having time to
make themselves masters of any given subject,
they only learned enough of all to render them
disputatious and discontented. Their heads
were filled with words to which they affixed no
definite ideas, and the little sense Heaven had
blessed them with, was lost beneath a mass of
undigested and misapplied knowledge.
Conceit inevitably leads to rebellion. The
natural consequence of the mob thinking them-
selves as wise as their rulers, was, that they
took the first convenient opportunity that of.
fered, to jostle these aforesaid rulers from their
seats. An aristocracy was established, and
afterwards a democracy; but both shared the
same fate; for the leaders of each in turn, found
the instruments they had made use of to rise,
soon became unmanageable. The people had
tasted the sweets of power, they had learned


TH e MUMMY. 5
their own strength, they were enlightened; and,
fancying they understood the art of ruling as
well as their quondam directors, they saw no
reason why, after shaking off the control of
one master, they should afterwards submit to
the domination of many. “We are free,” said
they ; “we acknowledge no laws but those of
nature, and of those we are as competent to
judge as our would-be masters. In what are
they superior to ourselves P Nature has been as
bountiful to us as to them, and we have had
the same advantages of education. Why then
should we toil to give them ease? We are
each capable of governing ourselves. Why
then should we pay them to rule us? Why
should we be debarred from mental enjoyments
and condemned to manual labour 2 Are not
our tastes as refined as theirs, and our minds
as highly cultivated P. We will assert our inde-
pendence, and throw off the yoke. If any man
wish for luxuries, let him labour to procure
them for himself. We will be slaves no longer;
we will all be masters.”
Thus they reasoned, and thus they acted,
33


6 THE MUMMY.
till government after government having been
overturned, complete anarchy prevailed, and
the people began to discover, though, alas ! too
late, that there was little pleasure in beingmasters
when there were no subjects, and that it was
impossible to enjoy intellectual pleasures, whilst
each man was compelled to labour for his daily
bread. This, however, was inevitable, for as
perfect equality had been declared, of course
no one would condescend to work for his neigh-
bour, and every thing was badly done : as,
however skilful any man may be in any parti-
cular art or profession, it is quite impossible he
can excel in all.
In the meantime, the people who had,
though they scarcely knew why, attached to
the idea of equality that of exemption from
toil, found to their infinite surprise, that their
burthens had increased tenfold, whilst their
comforts had unaccountably diminished in the
same proportion. The blessings of civiliza-
tion were indeed fast slipping away from them.
Every man became afraid lest the hard-earned
means of existence should be torn from his


THE MU MMY. 7
grasp ; for, as all laws had been abolished, the
strong tyrannized over the weak, and the most
enlightened nation in the world was in immi-
ment danger of degenerating into a horde of
rapacious barbarians.
This state of things could not continue; and
the people, finding from experience that perfect
equality was not quite the most enviable mode
of government, began to suspect that a division
of labour and a distinction of ranks were abso-
lutely necessary to civilization; and sought
out their ancient nobility, to endeavour to re-
store something like order to society. These
illustrious personages were soon found: those
who had not emigrated, had retired to their
seats in the country, where, surrounded by
their dependants, and the few friends who had
remained faithful to them, they enjoyed the
otium cum dignitate, and consoled themselves
for the loss of their former greatness, by railing
most manfully at those who had deprived them
of it.
Amongst this number, was the lineal descen-
dant of the late royal family, and to him the


8 THE MUMMY.
people now resolved humbly and uncondition-
ally to offer the crown; imagining, with the
usual vehemence and inconsistency of popular
commotions, that an arbitrary government must
be best for them, as being the very reverse of
that, the evils of which they had just so forci-
bly experienced.
The prince, however, to whom a deputation
from the people made this offer, happened not
to be ambitious. Like another Cincinnatus,
he placed all his happiness in the cultivation
of a small farm, and had sufficient prudence
to reject a grandeur which he felt must be
purchased by the sacrifice of his peace. The
deputies were in despair at his refusal; and
they reurged their suit with every argument
the distress of their situation could inspire.
They painted in glowing colours the horrors of
the anarchy that prevailed, the misery of the
kingdom and despair of the people; and at
last wound up their arguments by a solemn
appeal to Heaven, that if he persisted in his
refusal, the future wretchedness of the people
might fall upon his head. The prince, how-


THE MUMMY. 9
ever, continued inexorable ; and the deputies
were preparing to withdraw, when the prince's
daughter, who had been present during the
whole interview, rushed forward and prevented
their retreat:—“Stay ! I will be your queen,”
cried she energetically ; “I will save my coun-
try, or perish in the attempt l”
The princess was a beautiful woman, about
six-and-twenty; and, at this moment, her fine
eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, her cheeks
glowing, and her whole face and figure breath-
ing dignity from the exalted purpose of her
soul, she appeared to the deputies almost as a
supernatural being; and regarding her offer as
a direct inspiration from Heaven, they bore her
in triumph to the assembled multitude who
awaited their return: whilst the people, ever
caught by novelty, and desirous of any change
to free them from the misery they were en-
during, hailed her appearance with delight,
and unanimously proclaimed her Queen.
The new sovereign soon found the task she
had undertaken a difficult one ; but happening
luckily to possess common sense and prudence,
B 5


10 THE MUMMY.
united with a firm and active disposition, she
contrived in time to restore order, and to con-
firm her own power, whilst she contributed to
the happiness of her people. The face of the
kingdom rapidly changed—security produced
improvement—and the self-banished nobles of
the former dynasty crowding round the new
Queen, she chose from amongst them the wisest
and most experienced for her counsellors, and
by their help compounded an excellent code of
laws. This book was open to the whole king-
dom; and cases being decided by principle in-
stead of precedent, litigation was almost un-
known: for as the laws were fully and clear-
ly explained, so as to be understood by every
body, few dared to act in open violation of
them, punishment being certain to follow
detection ; and all the agonizing delights of
a law-suit were entirely destroyed, as every
body knew, the moment the facts were stated,
how it would inevitably terminate. This re-
newal of the golden age continued several
years without interruption, the people being
too much delighted with the personal comforts


THE MUMMY. 11
they enjoyed, to complain of the errors insepa-
rable from all human institutions; whilst the
remembrance of what they had suffered during
the reign of anarchy, made them tremble at a
change, and patiently submit to trifling incon-
veniences to avoid the risk of positive evils.
This generation however passed away, and
with it died, not only the recollection of the past
misfortunes of the kingdom, but also the spirit
of content they had engendered. A new race
arose, who, with the ignorance and presump-
tion of inexperience, found fault with every
thing they did not understand, and accused the
Queen and her ministers of dotage, merely be-
cause they did not accomplish impossibilities.
The government, however, was too firmly es-
tablished to be easily shaken. The judicious
economy of the Queen had filled her treasury
with riches; her prudent regulations had ex-
tended the commerce of her subjects to an al-
most incredible extent; and her firm and de-
cided disposition made her universally respect-
ed both at home and abroad. The malcontents
were therefore awed into submission, and


12 THE MUMMY.
obliged, in spite of themselves, to rest satis.
fied with growling at the government they were
not strong enough to overturn. At this time,
however, the Queen died, and the state of affairs
experienced an important change.
It has been before mentioned, that the reli-
gion of the country had altered with its go-
vernment. Atheism, rational liberty, and fa-
naticism, had followed each other in regular
succession ; and the people found, by fatal ex-
perience, that persecution and bigotry assimi-
lated as naturally with infidelity as superstition.
A fixed government, however, seemed to require
an established religion ; and the multitude,
ever in extremes, rushed from excess of liberty
to intolerance. The Catholic faith was re-
stored, new saints were canonized, and con-
fessors appointed in the families of every person
of distinction. These priests, however, were
far from having the power they had possessed
in former times. The eyes of men had been
too long opened to be easily closed again.
Education still continued amongst the lower
classes; and though, at the time this history


THE MUMMY. 13
commences, it was going out of fashion with
persons of rank, its influence was felt even by
those most prejudiced against it. During the
reign of the late Queen, the minds of the pub-
lic not having any state affairs to occupy them,
had been directed to the improvement of the
arts and sciences ; and so many new inventions
had been struck out, so many wonderful dis-
coveries made, and so many ingenious contri-
vances put into execution, that poor nature
seemed degraded from her throne, and usurping
man to have stepped up to supply her place.
Before the Queen died, she chose her niece
Claudia to succeed her; and as she enacted that
none of her successors should marry, she or-
dered that all future queens should be chosen,
by the people, from such female members of her
family as might be between twenty and twenty-
five years of age, at the time of the throne's be-
coming vacant. Every male throughout the
kingdom who had attained the age of twenty- w
one, was to have a voice in this election; but
as it was presumed it might be inconvenient to
convoke these numerous electors into one place,


14 THE MUMMY.
it was agreed that every ten thousand should
choose a deputy to proceed to London to repre-
sent them, and that a majority of these deputies
should elect the Queen. This scheme, how-
ever, though feasible in theory, seemed likely
to present some difficulties when it was to be
put in practice; but of these, the old Queen
never troubled herself to think. She had
provided against any immediate disturbance
by choosing her own successor, and she left
posterity to take care of itself.
Queen Claudia was one of those fainéant
sovereigns of whom it is extremely difficult to
write the history, for the simple but unan-
swerable reason, that they never perform any
action worthy of being recorded. However,
though she did not do much good, she seldom
did any harm : she thus contrived to escape ei-
ther violent censure or applause; and, in short, to
get through life very decently, without making
much bustle about it. She continued the same
counsellors that had been employed by her pre-
decessor, appointing the sons, when the fathers
died, to save trouble. She left the laws as she


THE MUMMY. 15
found them for the same reason; and, in short,
she let the affairs of government go on so quietly,
and so exactly in the same routine as before,
that for two or three years after her accession,
the people were scarcely aware that any change
had taken place.
The commencement of the year 2126 was,
however, marked by symptoms of turbulence.
The malcontents, secretly encouraged by Ro-
derick, King of Ireland, and suffered to gain
strength under the easy sway of Claudia, rose
to arms in different parts of the kingdom; and
marching to London, attempted to seize the
person of the Queen. For the moment, the
regular forces of the kingdom seemed para-
lysed, and the insurgents would have succeeded
in their daring attempt, but for the presence
of mind and valour of Edmund Montagu, a
young officer of ancient family, a captain in
the Queen's body-guard, who had the good
fortune to rescue his sovereign.
This circumstance was decisive; the rebels,
disappointed in their hopes, and imperfectly
organized, gave way everywhere before the re-


16 THE MUMMY.
gular troops, who had now recovered from their
stupor; whilst the Queen, whose gratitude for
the timely succour afforded by Edmund Mon-
tagu was unbounded, made him commander of
her forces in Germany, and the youthful hero
quitted England to take possession of his post.


THE MUMMY. 17
CHAPTER II.
HIGH and distinguished as was the favour
shown to Edmund Montagu, it was by no
means greater than he deserved. His face and
figure were such as the imagination delights to
picture as a hero of antiquity; and his cha-
racter accorded well with the majestic graces
of his person. Haughty and commanding in
his temper—ambition was his God, and love of
glory his strongest passion; yet his very pride
had a nobleness in it, and his soldiers loved
though they feared him.
Very different was the character of his younger
brother Edric, whose romantic disposition and


18 THE MUMMY.
contemplative turn of mind often excited the
ridicule of his friends. As usual, however, in
similar cases, the persecutions he endured upon
the subject, only wedded him more firmly to his
own peculiar opinions; which, indeed, he seemed
determined to sustain with the constancy of a
martyr; whilst he put on such a countenance
of resolution and magnanimity whenever they
were assailed by jests or raillery, as might have
been imagined suitable to an expiring Indian
at the stake. Unfortunately, however, his
friends did not always properly estimate this
dignified silence ; and their repeated bursts of
laughter grated so harshly in the ears of the
youthful Diogenes, that he became gradually
disgusted with mankind. He secluded him-
self from society; despised the opinion of
the world, because he found it was against
him ; and supposed himself capable of resist-
ing every species of temptation, simply because,
as yet, he had met with nothing adequate to
tempt him. Older and more experienced per-
sons have made the same mistake.
The education of these two young men had


THE MUMMY. 19
been entrusted to tutors of characters as es-
sentially different as those of their pupils.-
Father Morris, who had had the care of the
elder, was an intelligent Catholic priest, the
confessor of the family. Whilst Doctor Ent-
werfen, who took charge of the younger, was a
worthy inoffensive man, whose passion for try-
ing experiments was his leading foible ; but
whose good-nature caused him to be beloved,
even by those to whom his follies made him ap-
pear ridiculous.
Sir Ambrose Montagu, the father of Ed-
mund and Edric, was a widower, and these two
sons constituted his whole family. The worthy
Baronet was no bad representative of what an
old English country gentleman always has been,
and of what it still continued, even in that age of
refinement. He was as warm in his feelings as
hasty in his temper, and as violent in his pre-
judices, as any of his predecessors. In fact,
the same causes must always lead to the same
results; and there is something in a country
life that never fails to produce certain peculiar
effects upon the mind.


20 THE MUMMY.
Sir Ambrose, however, was far superior to
the generality of his class, and amongst in-
numerable other good qualities, he was an in-
dulgent master and an affectionate father. His
foible, however, for alas ! where shall we find
character without one,—was a desire to show
occasionally how implicitly he could be obeyed.
In general, he was easy to a fault ; and it
was only when roused by opposition, that the
natural obstinacy of his disposition displayed it-
self. Edmund was his favourite son; the early
military glory of the youthful hero was flatter-
ing to his parental pride, and his eyes would
glisten with delight at the bare mention of his
darling's name.
It was one fine evening in the summer of the
year 2126, when Sir Ambrose Montagu, such
as we have described him, was sitting in his li-
brary, anxiously expecting intelligence from the
army. To divert his impatience, he had order-
ed the attendance of his steward Mr. Davis, and
endeavoured to amuse himself by hearing a re-
port of the affairs of his farm ; whilst Abelard,


THE MUMMY, 21
- **.
an old butler, who had been in the Baronet's
service more than forty years, stood behind his
master's chair holding a small tray, on which was
placed an elegant apparatus for smoking, and
a magnificent service of malleable glass, made
to fold up to a pocket size, when not in use,
containing the baronet's evening refreshment.
Sir Ambrose was above seventy; and his
long white hair hung in waving curls upon his
shoulders, as he now sat in his comfortable
elastic arm-chair, leaning one elbow upon the
table before him.” His features had been very
handsome, and his complexion still retained that
look of health and cleanness, which, in a green
old age, is the sure indication of a well-spent
life. His countenance, though intelligent, was
unmarked by the traces of any stormy pas-
sions; the cares and troubles of life seemed to
have passed gently over him, and content had
smoothed the wrinkles age might have made
upon his brow; whilst the tall thin figure of
Mr. Davis, as he stood reverentially bending
forward, his hat in his hand, and his whole de-
-


22 THE MUMMY.
meanour expressing a singular mixture of pre-
ciseness and habitual respect, contrasted strong-
ly with the dignified appearance of his master.
The windows of the library opened to the
ground, and looked out upon a fine terrace,
shaded by a verandah, supported by trellis-
work, round which, twined roses mingled with
vines. Below, stretched a smiling valley, beau-
tifully wooded, and watered by a majestic river
winding slowly along; now lost amidst the
spreading foliage of the trees that hung over its
banks, and then shining forth again in the sun
like a lake of liquid silver. Beyond, rose hills
majestically towering to the skies, their clear
outline now distinctly marked by the setting
sun, as it slowly sunk behind them, shedding
its glowing tints of purple and gold upon their
heathy sides; whilst some of its brilliant rays
even penetrated through the leafy shade of
the verandah, and danced like summer light-
ning upon the surface of a mirror of polished
steel which hung directly in face of Sir Am-
brose.


THE MUMMY. 23
“What a lovely evening !” exclaimed the
worthy baronet, gazing with a delighted eye
upon the rich landscape before him; “ often as
I have looked upon this scene, methinks every
time I see it I discover some new beauty.
How finely that golden tint which the sun
throws upon the tops of those trees is relieved
by the deep masses of shadow below !”
“It is a fine evening,” said Davis, bowing
low, “ and if your honour pleases, I think we
had better get the patent steam-mowing appa-
ratus in motion to-morrow. If the sun should
be as hot to-morrow as it has been to-day, I am
sure the hay will make without using the burn-
ing glass at all.”
“Do as you like, Davis,” returned his mas-
ter, taking his pipe, “you know I leave these
matters entirely to you.”
“And does not your honour think I had
better give the barley a little rain It will be all
burnt up, if this weather continues; and if your
honour approves, it may be done immediately,
for I saw a nice black heavy-looking cloud sail-
Sº


24 THE MUMMY.
ing by just now, and I can get the electrical
machine out in five minutes to draw it down,
if your honour thinks fit.”
“I have already told you I leave these
things entirely to you, Davis,” returned the ba-
ronet, puffing out volumes of smoke from his
hookah. “Inundate the fields if you will; you
have my full permission to do whatever you
please with them, so that you don't trouble me
any more about the matter.”
“But I would not wish to act without your
honour's full conviction,” resumed the perse-
vering steward. “Your honour must be aware
of the aridity of the soil, and of the impossi-
bility that exists of a proper developement of
the incipient heads, unless they be supplied
with an adequate quantity of moisture.”
“You are very unreasonable, Davis,” said
Sir Ambrose; “most of your fraternity would
be satisfied by being permitted to have their
º
own way; but you
“Excuse my interrupting your honour,”
cried Davis, bowing profoundly; “but I can-
not bear it to be thought that I was capable of


THE MUMMY. 25
persuading your honour to take any steps,
your honour might not thoroughly approve.
Now as to the germinization and ripening ºx
“My good fellow !” exclaimed Sir Ambrose,
smiling at the energy with which Davis spoke—
his thin figure waving backwards and forwards
in the sunshine, and his earnest wish to con-
vince his master, almost depriving his voice of
its usual solemn and sententious tone. “As I
said before, I give you full and free liberty to
burn, dry, or drown my fields, as you may think
fit; empowering you to take any steps you
judge proper, either to germinate or ripen corn
upon any part of my estate whatever, only pre-
mising, that in future you never trouble me
upon the subject; and so good night.”
This being spoken in a tone of voice Da-
vis did not dare to disobey, he slowly retired,
apparently as much annoyed at having his own
way, as some people are at being contradicted;
when suddenly a brilliant flash of light gleamed
on the baronet's polished mirror. “Ah! what
was that * exclaimed Sir Ambrose, starting up,
and dashing his pipe upon the ground.
WOL. I. C


26 THE MUMMY.
He gazed eagerly upon the mirror for a few
seconds in breathless anxiety, bending forwards
in a listening attitude, and not daring to stir,
as though he feared the slightest movement
might destroy the pleasing illusion. The flash
was repeated again and again in rapid succes-
sion, whilst a peal of silver bells began to ring
their rounds in liquid melody. “Thank God
thank God ſ” exclaimed the aged baronet, sink-
ing upon his knees, and clasping his hands toge-
ther, whilst the big tears rolled rapidly down
his face, “My Edmund has conquered my
Edmund is safe l’”
The faithful servants of Sir Ambrose fol-
lowed the example of their master, and for
some minutes the whole party appeared lost in
silent thanksgiving ; the silver bells still con-
tinuing their harmonious sweetness, though in
softer and softer strains, till at last they gra-
dually died away upon the ear. Sir Ambrose
started from his knees as the melody ceased,
and desiring Abelard to summon Edric and
Father Morris, he rushed upon the terrace, fol-
lowed by Davis, to examine a telegraph placed


THE MUMMY. 27
upon a mount at little distance, so as to be
seen from one end of it: the light and music
just mentioned, being a signal always given,
when some important information was about to
be transmitted.
The sun had now sunk behind the hills, and
the shades of evening were rapidly closing in
as the baronet, with streaming eyes, watched
the various movements of the machine. “One,
two, and six ſ” said he ; “yes, that signifies he
has won the battle, and is safe. My heart told
me so, when I saw the signal flash. My dar-
ling Edmund !—two, four, and eight—he has
subdued the Germans, and taken the whole of
the fine province of France. Six, six, and
four—alas ! my failing eyes are too weak to
see distinctly. Davis, look I implore you !
The signal is changing before we have disco-
vered its meaning ! For mercy's sake, look be-
fore it be too late Alas! alas ! I had forgot-
ten your eyes are as feeble as mine own. Oh,
Davis where is Edric P Why is not he here
to assist his poor old father at such a moment
as this P”
c 2


28 THE MUMMY.
In the meantime, Edric was, as usual, en-
gaged in those abstract speculations with Dr.
Fntwerfen, which now formed the only plea-
sure of his existence, and which he pursued
with an eagerness that made all the ordinary
affairs of life appear tasteless and insipid. His
imagination had become heated by long dwell-
ing upon the same theme ; and a strange, wild,
undefinable craving to hold converse with a dis-
embodied spirit haunted him incessantly. He
had long buried this feverish anxiety in his
own breast, and tried in vain to subdue it :
but it seemed to hang upon his steps, to pre-
sent itself before him wherever he went, and,
in short, to pursue him with the malignancy
of a demon.
“What is the matter with you, Edric?” said
Dr. Entwerfen to his pupil, the day we have
already mentioned. “You are so changed, I
scarcely know you, and your eyes have a wild
expression, absolutely terrific.”
“I am, indeed, half mad,” returned Edric,
with a melancholy smile ; “and yet, perhaps,
you will laugh when I tell you the reason of


THE MUM MY. 29
my uneasiness. I am tormented by an earnest
desire to communicate with one who has been
an inhabitant of the tomb. I would fain know
the secrets of the grave, and ascertain whether
the spirit be chained after death to its earthly
covering of clay, condemned till the day of final
resurrection to hover over the rotting mass of
corruption that once contained it; or whether
the last agonies of death free it from its mortal
ties, and leave it floating, free as air, in the -
bright regions of ethereal space f*
“You know my opinion,” said the doctor.
“I do,” replied the pupil; “but forgive me
if I add—I do not feel satisfied with it: in fact
mine is not a character to be satisfied with build-
ing my faith upon that of any other man. I
would see, and judge for myself.”
“I do not blame you,”
resumed the doctor;
“a reasonable being should believe nothing
he cannot prove ;-however, to remove your
doubts, I am convinced we have only occasion
to step into the adjoining church-yard, and
try my galvanic battery of fifty surgeon power,
(which you must allow is surely enough to


30 THE MUMMY.
reanimate the dead,) upon a body, and
then—”
“Hold hold " cried Edric, shuddering.
“My blood freezes in my veins, at the thought
of a church-yard:—your words recall a horrible
dream that I had last night, which, even now,
dwells upon my mind, and resists all the efforts
I can make to shake it off.”
“Tell it to me, then,” resumed the doctor;
“for when the imagination is possessed by hor-
rible fantasies, it is often relieved by speaking
of them to another person.”
“I thought,” said Edric, “that I was
wandering in a thick gloomy wood, through
which I had the utmost difficulty to make
my way. The black trees, frowning in awful
majesty above my head, twined together in
masses, so as almost to obstruct my path.
Suddenly, a fearful light flashed upon me,
and I saw at my feet a horrid charnel house,
where the dying mingled terrifically with the
dead. The miserable living wretches turn-
ed and writhed with pain, striving in vain
to escape from the mass of putrescence


THE MUMMY.º. 31
heaped upon them. I saw their eye-balls roll
in agony—I watched the distortion of their fea-
tures, and, making a violent effort to relieve
one who had almost crawled to my feet, I shrank
back with horror as I found the arm I grasped
give way to my touch, and a disgusting mass
of corruption crumble beneath my fingers —
Shuddering I awoke—a cold sweat hanging
upon my brows, and every nerve thrilling with
convulsive agony.”
“Mere visionary terrors,” said the doctor.
“You have suffered your imagination to dwell
upon one subject, till it is become morbid.—
However, though I do not see any reason why
your dream should make you decline my offer,
I will not urge it if it give you pain.”
“Is it not strange,” continued Edric, appa-
rently pursuing the current of his own thoughts,
“ that the mind should crave so earnestly what
the body shudders at ; and yet, how can a mass
of mere matter, which we see sink into cor-
ruption the moment the spirit is withdrawn
from it, shudder P. How can it even feel P
I can scarcely analyse my own sensations;


32 * THE MUMMt.Y.
but it appears to me that two separate and dis-
tinct spirits animate the mass of clay that com-
poses the human frame. The one, the merely
vital spark which gives it life and motion, and
which we share in common with brutes, and
even vegetables; and the other, the divine ethe-
real spirit, which we may properly term the soul,
and which is a direct emanation from God him-
self, only bestowed upon man.”
“You know my sentiments upon the sub-
ject,” replied the doctor, “therefore I need
not repeat them.”
“I know,” resumed Edric, “ you think the
organs of thought, reflection, imagination, rea-
son, and, in short, all that mysterious faculty
which we call the mind, material; and that as
long as the body remains uncorrupted they may
be restored, provided circulation can be renew-
ed: for that you think the only principle neces-
sary to set the animal machine in motion.”
“Can any thing be more clear P’’ said the
doctor. “We all know that circulation and
the action of the lungs are inseparably con-
nected, and that if the latter be arrested, death


THE MUMMY. 33
must ensue. How frequently are apparently
dead bodies recovered by friction, which pro-
duces circulation; and inflation of the lungs
with air, which restores their action. If your
idea be correct, that the soul leaves the body
the instant what we call death takes place, how
do you account for these instances of resuscita-
tion f Think you that the soul can be recalled
to the body after it has once quitted it Or
that it hovers over it in air, attached to it by
invisible ligatures, ready to be drawn back to
its former situation, when the body shall re-
sume its vital functions f You cannot surely
suppose it remains in a dormant state, and is
reawakened with the body; for this would be
inconsistent with the very idea of an incorporeal
spirit.”
“Certainly,” resumed Edric, “the spirit
must be capable of existing perfectly distinct
from the body; though how, I own candidly
my imperfect reason cannot enable me to com-
prehend.”
“I wish you would overcome your childish
reluctance to trying an experiment upon a
c 5


34 THE MUMMY.
corpse, as that must set your doubts at rest.
For if we could succeed in reanimating a dead
body that has been long entombed, so that it
might enjoy its reasoning faculties, or, as you
call it, its soul in full perfection, my opinion
would be completely established.”
“But where shall we find a perfect body,
which has been dead a sufficient time to prevent
the possibility of its being only in a trance 2–
For even if I could conquer the repugnance
I feel at the thought of touching such a mass of
cold mortality, as that presented in my dream
last night, according to your own theory, the
organs must be perfect, or the experiment will
not be complete.”
“What think you of trying to operate upon
a mummy 2 You know a chamber has been
lately discovered in the great pyramid, which
is supposed to be the real tomb of Cheops; and
where, it is said, the mummies of that great
king and the principal personages of his house-
hold have been found in a state of wonderful
preservation.”


THE MUMMY. 35
“But mummies are so swathed up.”
“Not those of kings and princes. You know
all travellers, both ancient and modern, who
have seen them, agree, that they are wrapped
merely in folds of red and white linen, every
finger and even every toe distinct; thus, if we
could succeed in resuscitating Cheops, we need
not even touch the body; as the clothing it is
wrapped in will not at all encumber its move-
ments.”
“The idea is feasible, and, as you rightly
say, if it can be put into execution, it will set
the matter at rest for ever. I should also like
to visit the pyramids, those celebrated monu-
ments of antiquity, whose origin is lost in the
obscurity of the darker ages, and which seem
to have been spared by the devastating hand of
time, purposely to perplex the learned.”
“You say right,” cried the doctor with en-
thusiasm. “And who can tell but that we
may be the favoured happy mortals, destined
to raise the mystic veil that has so long cover.
ed them we may be destined to explore these


36 THE MUMMY.
wonderful monuments—to revive their mum-
mies, and force them to reveal the secrets of
their prison-house. Cheops is said to have
built the great pyramid, and it is Cheops whom
we shall endeavour to re-animatel what then
can be more palpable, than that it should be
he who is destined at length to reveal the
mystery.”
“Every word you utter, doctor, increases
my ardent desire to put our scheme into imme-
diate execution: but how can we accomplish it 2
How obtain my father's consent P You know
it has long been his intention to marry me to
the niece of his friend the Duke of Cornwall,
and you know how obstinate both he and the
duke are.”
“Then if you remain in England, it is your
intention to marry Rosabella 7"
“I would perish first.”
“If that be the case, I confess I do not see
the force of your objection.”
“True; for as long as I refuse to marry her,
their anger will be the same, whether I travel
or remain in England. In fact, I shall be hap-


THE MUM MY. 37
pier at a distance than here, where I shall be
annoyed by having the subject constantly re-
curred to. Yet it pains me to speak upon it to
my father. He has so long cherished the idea
of my marriage, and dwelt upon it so fondly—”
“Then you had better stay,+relinquish all
thoughts of scientific discoveries, and settle con-
tentedly on an estate in the country; employing
your time in regulating your farm, settling the
disputes of your neighbours, and bringing up
your children, if you should happen to have
any.”
“How can you torment me so 2–If you
could imagine the struggle in my bosom, be-
tween inclination and duty, you would pity me.”
“Do you think your presence necessary to
your father's happiness?”
“No—if Edmund be with him, he will never
think of me.”
“And do you not think—nay, are you not
certain, that an union with Rosabella would
make you miserable?”
- “It is impossible to doubt it. Her violent
temper, and the mystery which hangs over the


38 THE MUMMY.
fate of her father, which she cannot bear to
have even alluded to, forbid the thought of
happiness as connected with her.”
“It is strange, so little should be known
of her father. I never heard the particulars of
his story.”
“No human being knows the whole, I be-
lieve, but the duke and my father. However,
I remember to have heard it rumoured when I
was a child, that he had committed some fear-
ful crime, and that he was either executed, or
had destroyed himself.”
“Then it is not surprising that it should
pain Rosabella to hear him spoken of. But to
return to our subject: your answers have re-
moved the only doubts that can arise; and
after what you have confessed yourself, I can-
not imagine what further hesitation you can
feel—”
At this moment they were both startled; and
the words were arrested on the doctor's lips by a
gentle tap at the door. It was old Abelard the
butler. Half ashamed of the unphilosophic ter-
ror he had evinced, the doctor felt glad to be


THE MUMMY. 39
able to hide his emotion under the appearance
of anger, and demanded peevishly, what was
the matter. “Have I not told you a hundred
times,” continued he, “that I do not like to be
interrupted at my studies 1 and that nothing
is more disagreeable than to have one's atten-
tion distracted, when it has been fixed upon an
affair of importance ſ”
“I do not attempt to controvert the axiom
you have just propounded,” returned Abelard,
speaking in a slow precise manner, as though he
weighed every syllable before he drawled it
forth: “ for undeniable facts do not admit of
contradiction. However, as the message with
which I stand charged at the present mo-
ment relates to master Edric, instead of your-
self, I humbly opine, no blame can attach it-
self to me, on account of the unpremeditated
interruption of which you allege me culpable.”
“And what have you to say to me?” de-
manded Edric. -
“That the worthy gentleman, your respect-
able progenitor, requests you instantly to put in
exercise your locomotive powers to join him


40 TH E MUMMY.
on the terrace, to the end, that there your
superior visual faculties may afford soulage-
ment to the mental anxiety under which he at
present labours, by aiding him to develope the
intelligence conveyed to him by the telegraphic
machine.”
“What ſ” exclaimed Edric, eagerly, and
then, without waiting a reply, he darted for-
ward, and in a few seconds was by the side
of his father.
Abelard gazed after him with amazement:
“There is something very astonishing,” said
he, addressing Dr. Entwerfen, “in the efferves-
cence of the animal spirits during youth. I la-
bour under a complete acatalepsy upon the sub-
ject; I should think it must arise from the ex-
cessive elasticity of the nerves. Ideas strike—"
but here, happening unfortunately to look
up, he too was struck to find Dr. Entwerfen
had vanished with his pupil, and unwilling to
waste his eloquence upon the empty air, he
also departed ; slowly and solemnly, however,
according to his custom, to join the party as-
sembled on the terrace.


THE MUMMY. 41
CHAPTER III.
WHEN Edric and Dr. Entwerfen reached
Sir Ambrose, they found Father Morris at his
side, explaining with his usual promptness and
clearness the meaning of the different signs of
the telegraph.
“My dear Edric,” exclaimed Sir Ambrose,
throwing himself into the arms of his son, “my
dear, dear Edric your brother has gained the
battle ! The Germans are completely over-
thrown. He has taken their king, and several
of their princes prisoners; and the fine pro-
vince of France is ceded to us entirely ſ”
“I am rejoiced to hear it,” cried Edric, re-
turning his father's embrace with emotion,
“ and he, I hope, is safe?”


42 THE MUMMY.
“I hope so too,” replied Sir Ambrose;
“ though he says nothing of himself: but you
know Edmund: “Our troops won this,'
“our army gained that ſº-‘the soldiers fought
bravely ſ”—he never speaks of himself. To hear
him relate a battle, nobody would imagine he
had ever had any thing to do with it.”
“It is too dark to see any more,” said Fa-
ther Morris, who had been for some time
watching the telegraph, and now turned from it
in despair; “the machine is still in motion, but it
is too dark for me to decipher what it means.”
The attention of all present was directed to
the sky as he spoke. It was indeed become of
pitchy blackness, a general gloom seemed to
hang over the face of nature; the birds flew
twittering for shelter, a low wind moaned
through the trees, and, in short, every thing
seemed to portend a storm. -
“Had we not better return to the house P”
said Dr. Entwerfen, looking round with some-
thing like fear at these alarming indications,
for his heated imagination had not yet quite
recovered the effect of the awful speculations


THE MUMMY. 43
he had so lately been indulging in. “What is
that black spot there P I declare it moves |
Good heavens, what can it be P”
“Really, doctor " returned Abelard, “you
provoke the action of my risible faculties. That
opaque body which you perceive at a little dis-
tance, and which seems to have occasioned
such a fearful excitement of your nervous sys-
tem, is only a living specimen of the corvus
genus, who has probably descended upon earth
to search for his vermicular repast.”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Abelard,” rejoin-
ed Mr. Davis, speaking with his usual preci-
sion, “but, according to my humble apprehen-
sion, you labour under a slight mistake as to
that particular. The feathered biped that has
so forcibly attracted your attention, appears to
me, not one of the corvi, but rather one of the
graculi; a variety of extremely rare occurrence
in this vicinity, and which are sometimes called
incendriae aves, from their unfortunate propensity
to put habitations in combustion, by picking up
small pieces of phlogisticated carbon, and car-
rying them in their beaks to the combination of


44 THE MUMMY.
straw and other materials, sometimes piled upon
the apex of a house, to defend it from the in-
roads of pluviosity.”
“It is of no use,” sighed Sir Ambrose, still
straining his eyes to endeavour to decipher the
movements of the telegraph, the outlines of
which only now appeared, stamped as if in jet,
and strongly relieved by the dark grey sky be-
yond.
“It is of no use,” reiterated Father Morris,
and the whole party were preparing to retire,
when suddenly a vivid light flashed upon
them from the hill, and instantly a long line of
torches seemed to stream along the horizon.
“He is coming home, but will write more to-
morrow,” exclaimed the whole party simulta-
neously; for all knew well by experience, the
meaning of that signal. “He is coming home,
thank God!” repeated Sir Ambrose, his pallid
lips quivering, and every limb trembling with
agitation.
“Look to my father,” cried Edric, “he will
faint.”
“Oh no, no!” repeated Sir Ambrose: “ thank
God thank God!”


T H E MUMMY. 45
“Lean upon me, at least,” said Edric, affec-
tionately.
Sir Ambrose complied ; and, supported by
his son, still gazed anxiously on the torches,
their red glare shedding an unnatural light
around them, and making the surrounding dark-
ness only appear still more intense. Thunder
now growled in the distance, and rain began to
fall in large drops; yet still Sir Ambrose gazed
upon the torches, and could not be persuaded
to leave the terrace. These wild, fearful look-
ing lights, gleaming through the tempest, seem-
ed a connecting link between him and his dar-
ling son ; and it was not till they were obscur-
ed by the thick heavy rain, and even the out-
line of the telegraph vanished in the gather-
ing clouds around, that he could be induced
to seek for shelter.
Sir Ambrose slept little that night: the sleep
of age is easily broken, and perhaps the joyful
agitation of his spirits had produced a slight
access of fever. He rose with the dawn; and,
long before the rest of his family had descended,
summoned Abelard, that he might dispatch


46 THE MUMMY.
him to inform his most intimate friend the
Duke of Cornwall of the news.
“Go,” said he, as soon as the drowsy but-
ler made his appearance. “I am sure the duke
feels nearly as great an interest in the success
of Edmund as myself, and will not be dis-
pleased if he be disturbed a little earlier than
usual upon such an occasion.”
“I obey,” replied Abelard. “I will shake
off my somnolent propensities, and speed with
the velocity of the electric fluid to the castle
of the noble chieftain.”
“Take heed you do not forget your message
by the way,” repeated Sir Ambrose, smiling.
“Not all the waters of Lethe could wash
such somnifugous tidings from my memory,”
replied the butler. “Your honour's words are
imprinted upon the mnemonic organ of my
brain; and my sensorium must be divided from
my cerebellum ere they can be effaced.”
The Duke of Cornwall had been the inti-
mate friend of Sir Ambrose almost from infancy.
They had been companions at school and at
college; besides which, peculiar circumstances


T H E MUMMY. 47
which had happened in their youth, had link-
ed them together in indissoluble ties. What
these circumstances were, however, no one ex-
actly knew, except the parties concerned, and
they always avoided alluding to them. All
that was generally understood upon the sub-
ject, being, that Sir Ambrose had, in some
manner, been instrumental in saving the duke's
life; but how, when, or where, was never
clearly explained.
The Duke of Cornwall was of the Royal
family of England, and closely allied to the
throne. His father had been brother to that
prince who had so stedfastly refused the
crown when it was offered to him by the am-
bassadors from the people; and as that prince
had left no male descendants, the duke might
be considered as legitimately entitled to reign.
The thought of disturbing by his claims the
female dynasty now established, had, however,
never entered into the mind of the duke;
who, with half the sense of his friend Sir
Ambrose, possessed, at least, ten times the
obstinacy; and having taken it into his head


48 THE MUMMY.
that he would marry his daughter Elvira to
Edmund Montagu, and his niece Rosabella to
Edric, he turned all his thoughts, plans, and
wishes to the accomplishment of this ob-
ject, and suffered no other idea to interfere
with it.
Those, however, who were acquainted with
the characters of the young people, thought the
duke had quite reversed the natural order of
things by this arrangement; and that the strong
mind and haughty spirit of Rosabella would
have suited better with the ambitious Edmund ;
whilst the soft yielding disposition and femi-
nine graces of Elvira seemed to harmonize ex-
actly with the taste of the philosophic Edric.
No persuasions, however, could induce the duke
to deviate in the slightest degree from his de-
sign. Like many of the higher classes of society
in those days of universal education, he affected
an excessive plainness and simplicity in his lan-
guage ; so much so, indeed, as sometimes al-
most to degenerate into rudeness, in order that
it might be clearly distinguished from the ela-
borate and scientific expressions of the vulgar;


THE MUMMY. 49
and when urged upon the subject of these in-
tended marriages, he would roughly say, “Don’t
talk to me; there is nothing like a little contra-
diction in the married life. If two people were
to agree to live together, who were always of
the same opinion, they would die of ennui in
six months. No, no, I'm right, and so they'll
find it in the end.”
He would then shake his head, and put on
such a look of positive determination, that his
friends would generally retire in silence, feeling
it perfectly in vain to attempt to alter his reso-
lution. As to consulting the inclinations of the
young people themselves, the idea never enter-
ed his imagination. “Children don't know
what is good for them,” he would reply sharp-
ly, if any one presumed to suggest such a
thought, “ and it is the duty of parents and
guardians to decide in such matters.”
Sir Ambrose, wishing the connection for his
sons, and respecting even the whims of his friend,
had as yet never interfered, and the young peo-
ple had also appeared silently to acquiesce. Re-
bellious spirits, however, were hidden under
VOL. I. D


50 THE MU M MY.
this apparent calm ; and the duke was soon to
learn from experience, that human beings were
rather more difficult to manage than a drove of
turkeys, or a flock of sheep; a fact, of which be-
fore he did not seem to have the slightest sus-
picion.
The duke had already risen, and was in his
garden, when the messenger of Sir Ambrose ar-
rived panting for breath, and quite exhausted
by the velocity which, as he expressed it, he
had employed in endeavouring to execute with
the utmost expedition, the implied wishes of his
master. The duke was surprised to see him.—
“What brings you out so early, Abelard *"
demanded he.
“Oh, your grace,” replied the butler, gasp-
ing for utterance, “the haste I have made has
impeded my respiration; and the blood, finding
the pulmonary artery free, rushes with such
force along the arterial canal to the aorta, that
—that—I am in imminent danger of being suf-
focated.”
“Pshaw "said the duke.
“Besides,” continued Abelard,” a saline


THE MUMMY. 51
secretion distils from every pore of my skin, in
a SerOuS transudation, from the excessive exer-
tions I have made use of.”
“And what has occasioned these violent ex-
ertions 7”
“The earnest desire experienced by Sir Am-
brose to transmit with all the expedition possi-
ble, to your grace, the intelligence he has just
received of the acquisition of a victory by Mas-
ter Edmund, in the hostile territory of Ger-
many.”
Victory !” shouted the duke, “Victory—
Rosabella 1 Elvira ! where are you, girls P
Here’s tidings to rouse you from your slumbers.
—And how is he, Abelard ” Is the brave boy
safe himself? God bless him victory will be
nothing to us, if we are to lose him.”
“It occasions me excessive chagrin,” replied
Abelard, “that I am totally unable to resolve
that interrogatory to your grace's complete sa-
tisfaction. Taciturnity, however, upon some
subjects, is, I believe, generally considered sy-
nonymous with prosperity; and, as Master Ed-
mund, to the best of my credence, conveyed no
D 2


52 THE MU M M Y.
information relative to his sanity in the com-
munication made by him to his paternal an-
cestor, I humbly opine that there are no rea-
sonable grounds for supposing it has suffered
any material deterioration in consequence of the
late sanguinary encounter in which he has been
engaged.”
The duke had not patience to wait the con-
clusion of this speech ; but hobbled away as
fast as his infirmities would permit, vociferating
for Elvira and Rosabella, in a voice that might
have silenced Stentor; and Abelard, finding
himself alone, was fain to follow his example,
marvelling as he went along, however, at the
excessive impatience of the fiery spirits of the
age, which would not permit people to remain
stationary, even to hear, what he called, a com-
pendious replication to the very questions which
they themselves had propounded.
Whatever faults might fall to the share of the
Duke of Cornwall, that of a cold heart was cer-
tainly not amongst the number, and the de-
light he felt on hearing of Edmund's triumph
could not have been greater if the youthful


T H E MUMMY. 53
hero had been his own son. His eyes, indeed,
absolutely sparkled with transport, when he
communicated the intelligence to his niece and
daughter ; and his tidings were not bestowed
upon insensible ears, for the breasts of both his
youthful auditors throbbed with pleasure at the
news, though the causes of their emotions were
different. Elvira had been the idol of Edmund's
homage from her childhood ; and she fancied
she returned his passion with equal fervour ;
but she deceived herself, and love was as yet a
stranger to her heart. Endowed with great
beauty and superior talents; accustomed from
her earliest infancy to be worshipped by all
around her; surrounded by flatterers, till even
flattery itself had lost its charm, Elvira was as
yet insensible to love; why she was so, we
leave to philosophers to explain; we merely
state facts and leave others to draw conclu-
sions.
Rosabella's character was essentially different
from that of her cousin. Passion was the
essence of her existence ; and her dark eyes
flashed a fire that bespoke the intensity of her


54 THE MUMMY.
feelings. She loved Edmund, but though
she loved him with all that overwhelming vio-
lence, that only a soul like hers could feel, yet
she would not have scrupled to sacrifice even
him to her revenge, if she had thought he
treated her with negligence or contempt. She
scorned the opinion of the world, and regarded
mankind in general but as slaves, whom she
should honour by trampling beneath her feet.
Ambition, however, was her leading passion,
and even her love for Edmund struggled in
vain for mastery against it. This feeling was
now highly gratified by the tidings of Ed-
mund's victory. She triumphed in his glory ;
and a deeper glow burnt upon her cheek, from
the proud consciousness she felt that she had
not placed her affections upon an unworthy
object.
“We have no time to lose, girls,” said the
duke. “I would not miss being with Sir Am-
brose when he receives his letter, for kingdoms.
Here, Hyppolite Augustus ! get a balloon
ready, and let us be off directly. How tedious
these fellows are I They might have removed


- THE MUMMY. 55
-
a church steeple in the time they have wasted
about that balloon.”
“If your grace would have a moment’s pa-
tience,” said Hyppolite, holding the cords of
the balloon. But his Grace had no patience;
it was an ingredient Nature had quite forgotten
to put into his composition; and, without wait-
ing for the ascending ladder to be put down, he
sprang into the car in such haste the moment
the balloon was brought to the door, that he
was in imminent danger of oversetting it. “So
so ſ” said he, “very well that will do, and
now girls, that you are safely embarked, we
will be off. Hyppolite you will steer us:—
and, Abelard, go you into the buttery, and let
my fellows give you something to eat; you will
want something after your fatigues. There !
there, that will do; don't let us hinder a mo-
ment
;” and the rest of his speech was
lost in air, as the balloon floated majestically
away.
“It has often appeared very astonishing to
me,” said Abelard, after watching the balloon
till it was out of sight, “to observe how partial


56 THE MUMMY.
great people are generally to an aérial mode of
travelling; for my part, I think the pedestrian
manner infinitely more agreeable.”
“De gustibus non est disputandum,” replied
Augustus, the duke's footman, to whom this
observation was addressed:—“But I think I
observe symptoms of lassitude about you, Mr.
Abelard. Will you not adjourn to the apart-
ment of Mrs. Russel, our housekeeper, to re-
pair by some alimentary refreshment, the ex-
cessive exhaustion you have sustained in the
course of your morning's exertions P”
“Willingly, Mr. Augustus.-I own candid-
ly, I feel the want of a little wholesome nutri-
tion. I shall, besides, be extremely happy to
avail myself of the opportunity fortune so be-
mignantly presents, of paying my respects to
Mrs. Russel, whom I have not seen these three
days.”
The worthy housekeeper was equally re-
joiced with Abelard at this instance of fortune's
benignity; a sort of sentimental flirtation hav-
ing been going on between them for the last


THE MUMMY. 57
thirty years. She accordingly stroked down
her snow-white apron, re-adjusted her mob cap,
and smoothed her grey hairs, which were di-
vided upon her forehead, with the most scrupu-
lous exactness, before she advanced to welcome
her visitors. “What will you take, my dear
Mr. Abelard P” said she, as soon as he was within
hearing; “what can you fancy P I have a de-
licious corner of a cold venison pasty in my
pantry.”
“Words are altogether too feeble to express
the transports of my gratitude at receiving so
gracious an accolade, beauteous Eloisa,” replied
the romantic butler; for thus, in allusion to
his own name, was he wont to call her. “But
though you had only the rigours of the Para-
clete to invite me to, instead of the comforts of
your well-stored pantry, still would words be
wanting to express the feeling of my bosom on
thus again beholding you.”
“ spare my blushes!" said Mrs. Russel,
casting her eyes upon the ground, and playing
with a corner of her apron. “I feel a roseate
D 5


58 THE MUMMY.
suffusion glow upon my cheeks, as your flat-
tering accents strike upon the tympanum of
my auricular organs.”
“Oh, Mrs. Russel !” sighed Abelard, gaz-
ing upon her tenderly;—then, after a short
pause, he continued: “As to the aliments with
which your provident kindness would soulage
my appetite—though venison be a wholesome
viand, and was reckoned by the ancients effica-
cious in preventing fevers, and though the very
mention of the savoury pasty makes the eryptae,
usually employed in secreting the mucus of my
tongue, erect themselves, thereby occasioning an
overflow of the saliva, yet will I deny myself
the indulgence, and content myself simply with
a boiled egg, as being more likely to agree
with the present enfeebled state of the diges-
tive organs of my stomach.”
“You shall have it instantly,” cried Mrs.
Russel.
“And will you have the kindness to super-
intend the culinary arrangement of it yourself?”
rejoined. Abelard. “I do not like the albu-
men too much coagulated ; and I prefer it


THE MUMMY. 59
without any butyraceous oil, simply flavoured
by the addition of a small quantity of common
muriate of soda.”
The egg was soon prepared and devoured.
“Thank you, thank you ! dear Mrs. Russel,”
said Abelard ; “this refection was most ac-
ceptable. I had felt for some time the gastric
juice corroding the coats of my stomach; and
still, though I have now given it some solid
substance to act upon, I think it would not be
amiss to dilute its virulence by the addition of
a little fluid. Have you any thing cool and
refreshing?”
“I have some bottled beer,” replied Mrs.
Russel; “but I am afraid the carbonic acid
gas has not been sufficiently disengaged during
the process of the vinous fermentation to ren-
der it wholesome ; and there is scarcely any
alcohol in the whole composition——”
“That is exactly what I want,” said Abe-
lard; “for my physicians have expressly for-
bidden stimulants. Provided the gluten that
forms the germ was properly separated in the
preparation of the malt, and the seed sufficient-


60 THE MUMMY.
ly germinated to convert the fecula into sugar,
I shall be perfectly satisfied.”
“I can guarantee the accuracy of its pre-
paration both with regard to the malt and the
beer,” repeated Mrs. Russel; and the frothing
fluid soon sparkled in a goblet, to the infinite
satisfaction of the thirsty butler, who, after a
hearty draught, vowed nectar itself was never
half so delicious; and that all the gods on
Olympus would envy him, if they could but
taste his fare, and see the blooming Hebe that
was his cup-bearer.”


THE MUMMY. 61
CHAPTER IV.
WHEN the balloon of the duke approached
the habitation of Sir Ambrose, its occupiers per-
ceived the worthy baronet walking with hasty
strides towards the mount of the telegraph,
which commanded an extensive view of the
surrounding country, followed by Edric and
Dr. Entwerfen, who appeared vainly endeavour-
ing to persuade him to relax a speed so little
suited to his advanced years.
“Talk not to me of going slowly, when I
expect news of my darling Edmund !” ex-
claimed Sir Ambrose, continuing his rapid pace
—his heart beating with paternal pride, and
his countenance beaming with exultation.
“I am also anxious to hear of my brother,”


62 THE MUMIM Y.
said Edric, “but after the information we have
already received by the telegraphic dispatch, it
appears to me that we have little more to learn
of importance.”
“Edric, you are not a father, and you can
have no idea of a father's anxiety,” replied Sir
Ambrose, hurrying on to the mount, as though
he hoped the rapidity of his motion would af-
ford some relief to the impatience of his mind;
whilst the party of the duke, seeing the point
to which he was hastening, opened the valves
of their balloon, and made preparations to de-
scend upon the same spot.
The duke and Sir Ambrose were always
glad to meet, but as the present occasion
was one of more than ordinary interest, so
they now greeted each other with more than
ordinary pleasure. The duke had always been
warmly attached to Edmund, and his voice
actually trembled with agitation as he ex-
claimed :-
“Well, my old friend, you see your brave
boy is determined to keep us alive still. Our
blood would stagnate in our veins, if he did


THE MUMMY. 63
not give us a fillip now and then to rouse us.
But what does the young rogue say of him-
self? I hope he's not wounded ?”
“He never mentions himself,” replied Sir
Ambrose, tears glistening in his eyes, as he
pressed the hand of his friend warmly in his
own; “Edmund loves his country too devoted-
ly to think of either peril or reward in her
service.”
“But he shall have a reward " cried the
duke, laughing ; “ay and a fitting one too !
Eh, Elvira, what say you ?”
Elvira blushed, smiled, and looked down, as
young ladies generally do upon such occasions;
whilst Sir Ambrose, who had now reached the
summit of the mount, was too eagerly looking
round in every direction to hear his friend's
remark.
In those days, the ancient method of con-
veying the post having been found much
too slow for so enlightened a people, an in-
genious scheme had been devised, by which the
letters were put into balls and discharged by
steam-cannon, from place to place ; every


64 THE MUMMY.
town and district having a piece of toile metal-
lique, or woven wire, suspended in the air,
so as to form a kind of net to arrest the pro-
gress of the ball, and being provided with a
cannon to send it off again, when the letters
belonging to that neighbourhood should have
been extracted: whilst, to prevent accidents, the
mail-post letter-balls were always preceded by
one of a similar description, made of thin wood,
with a hole in its side, which, collecting the
wind as it passed along, made a kind of whiz-
zing noise, to admonish people to keep out of
the way.
The mount on which Sir Ambrose now stood,
commanded an extensive view, and the scene
it presented was beautiful in the extreme. On
one side, innumerable grass fields, richly wooded,
and only divided from each other by invisible
iron fences, appeared like one vast park;
whilst, on the other, the waving corn, its full
heads beginning to darken in the sun, gave a
rich glowing tint to the landscape. But Sir
Ambrose thought not of the prospect, he did
not even see the murmuring brooks and shady


T H E MUMMY. 65
groves, the smiling vales and swelling hills,
that constituted its beauty; no, his attention
was wholly occupied by a small black spot he
had just discovered on the edge of the horizon.
In breathless anxiety, his eyes almost starting
from their sockets, he bent eagerly forwards,
gazing on this small and at first almost im-
perceptible speck. It gradually grew larger
and larger—it rapidly approached and in a
few seconds a slight noise buzzed through
the air, as the long-expected balls whizzed
past him.
Sir Ambrose's agitation was excessive ; with
trembling limbs and livid lips, he hurried to
the nearest station, which luckily was close at
hand, and round which several of his house-
hold were assembled, in their impatience to
hear the news. Sir Ambrose could not speak,
but the person whose province it was to sort
the letters guessed his errand, and opening
the bag held forth the ardently expected trea-
sure. Gasping for breath, Sir Ambrose eagerly
attempted to take it, but his hands were un-
equal to the task, the violence of his emotion


66 THE MUMMY.
overpowered him, and after a short, but fruit-
less struggle, he fell senseless on the ground.
The confusion produced by this unexpected
incident, was indescribable. The old duke
walked up and down, wringing his hands, and
exclaiming, “What shall we do What will
become of us?” whilst the rest of the party en-
deavoured to give assistance to Sir Ambrose.
“Parental affection,” said Davis, who had
an unfortunate propensity for making long
speeches precisely at the moment when nobody
was likely to attend to him, “Parental affection
has been universally allowed by all writers,
both ancient and modern, to be one of the
strongest passions of the soul, and the most ex-
alted instances might be produced of the sur-
prising energy of this universal sentiment.”
“For Heaven's sake help me to raise my
father,” cried Edric: “Give him air, or he
will die ſ”
“Patience,” continued Davis, “is necessary
in all things, and is perhaps one of the most
useful and estimable qualities of life. It en-
ables us to bear, without shrinking, the bitter-


THE MUMMY. 67
est evils that can assail us. Without patience,
philosophy would never have made those won-
derful discoveries that subjugate nature to our
yoke.”
“Fetch me some water,” exclaimed Edric,
“ or he will expire before your eyes.”
“It appears to me,” said a labourer, who
had been mending a steam digging-machine in
a neighbouring field, and who now stood leaning
upon his work, and looking on gravely at all
that passed, without attempting to offer the
least assistance;— “It appears to me that it
would be highly improper to administer the
aqueous fluid in its natural state of frigidity,
under the existing circumstances. The pre-
sent suspension of animation under which Sir
Ambrose labours, is evidently occasioned by
want of circulation. Now, as it is the property
of hot liquors, rather than cold ones, to supply
the stimulant necessary for the reproduction of
circulation, I opine that hot water would an-
swer the purpose better than cold.”
In the mean time Father Morris had brought
some water from a neighbouring fountain, and


68 THE MUMMY.
throwing it on the patient's face, Sir Ambrose
opened his eyes: for some moments he stared
wildly around him, but, as soon as he began to
recollect what had passed, he implored Father
Morris to give him his ardently desired letter.
“You are not yet equal to reading it,” said
Father Morris compassionately ; “I fear the
exertion will be too much for you.”
º
“Oh giye it me ! give it me,” exclaimed the
poor old man; “if a spark of mercy remain
in your soul, do not keep me in this agony "
It was impossible to resist the tone of real
anguish that accompanied these words, as
Father Morris put the letter into his hands—
Sir Ambrose took it eagerly; though he trem-
bled so, that he could scarcely break the seal.
At last, he tore it open and gazed at its con-
tents, but he could not read a word; he dashed
away his tears, and rubbed his eyes impatient-
ly—all was in vain—the writing was still illegi-
ble — “Read read ſ” cried he, in a voice
trembling with agitation, “For Heaven's sake,
read l—will no one have pity on me?”
Father Morris took the letter, and read it


T H E MUMMY. 69
aloud, whilst Sir Ambrose sate—his eyes raised
to Heaven, his hands clasped together, and
the tears rolling down his aged cheeks, listening
to his words, and drinking in every syllable.
After giving a circumstantial account of the
battle, and assuring his father that he had not
been wounded, Edmund proceeded thus. “The
Queen has written me a letter of approbation in
her own hand, and has been graciously pleased
to signify her intention of honouring me with a
triumphal entry into London; she has likewise
conferred upon me letters of nobility. The
goodness of my sovereign makes a deep im-
pression upon my breast; but for the rest, I
assure you that neither the applauses of the
multitude, nor the privilege of writing Lord
before my name, can afford a moment’s satis-
faction to a heart that pants only for the plea-
sure of seeing again those most dear to it;
nor shall I enjoy my triumph unless those I
love be present to give it zest.”
“I congratulate you, my dear patron "ex-
claimed Father Morris, as soon as he had finish-
ed; “I congratulate you from my inmost soul!”


70 THE MUMMY.
“Go to his triumph ſ” exclaimed the duke,
rubbing his hands in ecstasy ; “Yes, yes, that
we will; won't we, my old friend ? God bless
him I’m glad he is not hurt, though. And so,
you see, in spite of all his glory, he can't be
happy without us. How prettily he says that
—“Not all the approbation of my sovereign, the
praises of the people’—nor—nor—what is it
I don’t remember the exact words, but I know
the sense was, that he couldn't be happy with-
out us, and, God bless him I’m sure I’m as
happy as he can be, at the thought of seeing
him.”
Sir Ambrose could not reply, but the tears
ran down his aged cheeks like rain, as his heart
breathed a silent offering of thanksgiving to the
Almighty Being who had thus bestowed vic-
tory upon his son; and his lips murmured some
inarticulate sounds of transport; whilst Elvira
and Rosabella mingled their tears with his, for
joy often becomes painful and seeks for a relief
like grief.
The party now slowly returned to the mansion
of Sir Ambrose, so completely occupied in dis-


THE MUMMY. 71
cussing Edmund's letter, as to be totally unaware
that Edric had not accompanied them; yet
such was the case. The youthful philosopher's
heart had swelled almost to bursting, as he had
listened to the reading of his brother's letter,
and he now rushed into a thick wood, shelving.
down to a romantic stream, which formed part
of the pleasure-grounds of Sir Ambrose. -
Almost without knowing where he was going,
Edric plunged amongst the trees, and threw
himself upon a grassy bank under their shade,
upon the border of the rivulet. The gentle
murmuring of the water, gave a delightful sense
of refreshing coolness, particularly agreeable
from the burning heat of the day; and Edric lay,
his eyes fixed upon the sparkling waves as they
danced in the sunbeams, with both his hands
pressed firmly upon his throbbing temples, en-
deavouring in vain to analyze the new and
strange emotions that struggled for mastery in
his bosom. By degrees he became more calm ;
and though his heart still beat with feelings he
could not quite explain, he felt soothed by the
softly gliding streamlet; and the stormy pas-


72 THE MUMMY.
sions of his breast seemed lulled to tranquillity
as one hand fell carelessly down by his side, and
the other merely supported the head it no longer
constrained.
It was not envy that occasioned Edric's emo-
tions; but shame and indignation burnt in his
bosom when he recollected that he was wasting
his days in comparative obscurity, whilst his
brother, only a few years older than himself,
was ennobling the name bequeathed to him by
his ancestors.
“And cannot I also become famous P’’
thought he, his heart swelling with emulation.
“Though I abhor the profession of a soldier, are
not other ways open to me of attaining eminence 2
Why should I not exert myself? I will remain
in indolence no longer. I, too, will prove my-
self worthy of my forefathers, and show the
world that the exalted blood of the Montagus
has not degenerated in my veins !” His eyes
sparkled with the thought, and he half raised
himself, as though eager to put it into imme-
diate execution. A moment's reflection, how-
ever, restored him to himself, and he could not


THE MU M M Y. 73
help smiling at his own folly. “And yet I
call myself a philosopher,” thought he “Alas !
alasſ *how little do we know ourselves; and
after all, the pursuit of knowledge is the only
employment worthy of a man of sense: the
transitory applause of the multitude, it is be-
neath him to accept. Nature is the goddess I
adore; and if it should be granted to me to ex-
plore her secrets, I shall be the happiest of
mankind. But why should I pass my life in
anxious cravings never destined to be realized P
The events of to-day have only proved yet more
clearly the little value my society is of to my
father. Were I absent, I should soon be for-
gotten. Why then should I not travel and
satisfy these restless wishes that gnaw at my
heart and poison every pleasure ? I was not
born to rest contented with the dull routine of
domestic life, and I detest hypocrisy : I will
seek my father; and, explaining my real senti-
ments, break off this hated marriage and set
off for Eygpt immediately.”
Satisfied with this resolution, Edric rose and
walked hastily towards his father's mansion,
WOL. I. E


74 THE MUMMY.
with all that inward vigour which the consci-
ousness of having made up one's mind is cer-
tain to bestow; and which, perhaps, is one of
the most agreeable sensations that can be ex-
perienced by the human mind, as that of sus-
pense or indecision is undoubtedly one of the
most unpleasant.
Edric found his father and the duke busily
engaged in consulting upon their intended jour-
ney, which was an event in both their lives; for
as, since the universal adoption of balloons,
journies were performed without either trouble
or expense, the rich had lost all inducement to
undertake them, and it was rare for a man of
rank to quit his family mansion unless he had
some post at court.
“I have a palace in London,” said the duke,
“which I hope you will make your home;
though it has been so long unused that I doubt
whether it will be fit for your reception.”
“Do not distress yourself about making
arrangements for my family,” replied Sir Am-
brose; “for you know I have a brother living
in London, and though we have not seen each


THE MUMMY. 75
other for years, I think upon such an occasion
as this I ought to forget all animosity, and visit
him, if he will receive me.”
“True,” rejoined the duke; “Inever thought
of that: but you are quite right. Though he
did make a foolish marriage, the ties of blood
are too strong to be easily shaken off, and this
is an excellent opportunity for a reconciliation.”
“Another thing also weighs with me,” con-
tinued Sir Ambrose: “you know that though
I was so much hurt at his marriage, I was
in some measure the cause of it.”
“You the cause of it !” exclaimed the duke,
in excessive surprise.
“You know,” resumed Sir Ambrose, “my
brother was always a bookworm ; and the last
time I visited him, I found him so uncomfor-
table, and his domestic affairs so dreadfully
neglected, that I advised him to get an active
managing woman to act as housekeeper. He
did so, and in twelve months made her—Mrs.
Montagu.”
“I always thought your brother was too
learned to know any thing useful, and too clever
E 2


76 THE MUMMY.
to be able to take care of himself; but I own
I never suspected him of being such a fool as
to marry.”
“Perhaps I was a greater one than himself
in resenting his conduct, for I believe they get
on very well. Mrs. Montagu does not want
sense.”
“I do not doubt her abilities, or that she
was extremely well fitted for her original sta-
tion; but very different qualities are required
in the wife of Mr. Montagu from those which
were suited to his housekeeper.”
“I know it; and also that there is perhaps
nothing more difficult than for a person in
her situation to preserve the medium between
affectation and vulgarity. However, I am told
that though Mrs. Montagu cannot quite di-
vest herself of the pedantry she acquired at
a charity-school in her youth ; and though
she still talks as learnedly as if she had ne-
ver ventured beyond the precincts of the
kitchen ; yet, that she makes my brother a
good wife, and they say her daughter Clara
is a charming girl.”


() accº J ſº
,...A 7"
! {}a prº
THE MUMMY. 77
“I can imagine nothing good springing from
such a source.”
“Prejudice my dear duke, sheer prejudice t”
“Well, well, I will say no more about it:
for, as you justly say, if Mrs. Montagu makes
your brother a good wife, and he is happy with
her, I don't see any right any body else has to
trouble himself about the matter: and so, as I
don't like quarrels in families, I think you are
quite right in wishing to see your brother.
However, if they do not make you comfortable,
I hope you’ll remember you have another
friend, and so we'll now wish you good day:
come, girls :"
And the old duke trotted off, followed by
his fair companions. Edric's heart throbbed
violently when he found himself alone with
his father; the moment was arrived he had
been so ardently wishing for, and yet he was
silent. He had scarcely had patience to wait
the end of his father's conference with the
duke; and whilst it had lasted, he had been
arranging and re-arranging a thousand times in
his mind, the phrases he meant to make use of;


78 THE MUM M Y.
yet now they seemed to have all vanished from
his memory, and he stood gazing through the
open window, his mind feeling a perfect chaos,
and without being able to recollect one single
word of what he had determined to say. Sir
Ambrose, in the mean time, felt perfectly happy,
and in the buoyancy of his spirits tapped his
son upon the shoulder.
“What all amort | Sir Knight of the Woeful
Countenance,” said he ; “Come, come! I will
have no gloomy looks to-day. But, hey-day !
what is the matter with you, Edric P You
don’t smile—are you unhappy P You look as
if you had something upon your mind.”
“I have something upon my mind, my dear
father,” said Edric, solemnly ; “and some-
thing that I wish to communicate to you.” He
stopped when he had said this, but Sir Am-
brose did not reply, and, for some minutes, nei-
ther spoke. At length, Edric broke the pause,
which had been one of perfect agony to him,
and, speaking very fast, he exclaimed, “Yet
I don't know why I should hesitate. It is that
I do not love Rosabella—that I never can


THE MUMMY. 79
marry her—that I should be entirely miserable
even to think of it—and, that this is my fixed
and unalterable determination.”
“Heyday !” cried Sir Ambrose; “what is
all this P. Not marry Rosabella ſ”
“Never; no tortures should induce me ! I
am convinced she would make me wretched,”
continued Edric, hurrying through what he
meant to say. “Our tempers don’t assimilate.
We should both be miserable. I should be
very sorry to cause either you or the duke a
moment's uneasiness—very sorry—I would die
first But to marry Rosabella would be worse
than dying a thousand deaths—we should be
the most wretched of human beings, and you
would be unhappy at seeing me so.”
“Mercy on me!” cried Sir Ambrose, heaving
a deep sigh, and feeling almost out of breath
at the volubility of his son. “I thought you
dumb just now, but I see that you can use
your tongue fast enough when the subject
pleases you. Not marry Rosabellaſ Is the
boy mad? Is she not young, beautiful, and
highly accomplished P What would you have,


80 THE MUMMY.
I wonder? You certainly must be out of your
senses to refuse such a woman ; and one too,
so superior to yourself in rank and fortune.”
“In fortune I allow her to be superior; but
I think the mystery attached to the name of
her father, more than compensates for any dif-
ference of rank.”
“Don’t talk about what you can't under-
stand. Duke Edgar is dead, and his faults
should be buried with him; besides, it is hard
the girl should suffer for the sins of her
father.”
“What were those sins, my dear Sir P I have
often heard them darkly hinted at, as something
almost too dreadful to mention; but I never
heard the particulars.”
“Edric,” said Sir Ambrose, solemnly, “if
you have the least regard for my feelings, or
entertain any duty for me as a son, never again
advert to that subject. Circumstances there
are relating to it, of a deep, awful, and myste-
rious nature, with which I am well acquainted,
but which I have taken a solemn oath never to
reveal. Never speak of them again ; the bare


THE MU MMY. 81
remembrance makes me shudder—oh ! would to
Heaven I could forget them "
“I am very sorry, Sir, that my question was
such as to give you pain : but rest assured that
my curiosity shall never again annoy you.”
“I am not angry with you, Edric. You
could not know the feelings your question
would create in my bosom, and it was natural
you should wish to know something of the father
of your intended wife. However, think no
more of him. Consider the present duke as
your future father-in-law; and if possible for-
get that such a person as Duke Edgar ever
existed.” -
“You forget, Sir,” said Edric, firmly but
respectfully, “that I have before declared my
determination never to marry Rosabella.”
“Nonsense ſ” rejoined his father, “you don't
know what you are talking about. The world
would call me as mad as yourself if I were to
let you act so foolishly: besides, what would the
duke say ”
“To speak candidly, Sir, that is what prin-
cipally annoys me; for I trust that your good
E 5


82 THE MUMMY.
sense and affectionate disposition will soon en-
able you to see the affair in its proper light.”
“That is to say, you think I am an old fool,
and that you can coax: me to any thing you
please. But you shall find your error. You
shall learn I will not be coaxed; I will be
obeyed. You shall marry Rosabella, or you
shall leave my house.”
“My dear father ſ” said Edric, attempting
to take Sir Ambrose's hand.
“Away, Sir ſ” cried his father, shaking him
off, “obedience far outweighs words. If I am
your dear father, you will act in compliance
with my wishes; and if you do not, it is a
mockery to call me “dear.’”
“I cannot marry Rosabella.”
“Was ever such obstinacy —such folly!
The world will think you distracted.”
“I care not for the world !” cried Edric, im-
patiently.
“Youth like " returned his father. “It is
very strange no one will be contented to take
experience at second-hand. They must buy
it for themselves, and sometimes pay very


THE MUMMY. 83
dear for it before they profit by its lessons.
You talk like a child, Edric : when you get a
little older, you will find practice and theory
very different things. You say you despise
the world: but you are wrong, the world must
not be despised; nay more, it ought not to be
even slighted. As long as you live in it, you
must conform to its opinions: it is ridiculous
to think otherwise. I don't like to hear people
say they don't care for the world; the world
must be cared for; and when people pretend to
scorn it, it is generally because they are aware
they have done something to make it scorn
them.”
“But, my dear father you would not wish
me to sacrifice my conscience to its dictates.”
“And pray, Sir, what has your conscience to
do with the matter in question ?”
“Should I not sacrifice it by marrying a wo-
man I feel I could never love P In my opinion,
nothing can be more sacred than the marriage
vow ; and with what feelings could I enter into
this solemn engagement in the presence of
Almighty God, calling upon him to witness it,


84 THE MUMMY.
when I knew my heart was at variance with
my words? My soul would recoil with horror
at such blasphemy.” -
“You talk about your conscience, Edric,+
but should you not rather say your inclinations :
The person of Rosabella does not please your
fancy, I suppose; and to gratify a capricious
whim, you would destroy the happiness of
your father, and ruin your own prospects for
ever.”
“It is not of the person of Rosabella that I
complain, my dear father;-I allow her to be
beautiful as a Venus, and that her talents even
exceed her personal charms: but when I see
her large black eyes flashing fury, and her rosy
lips curved into an expression of indignant
scorn, I forget her beauty, and think only of
the fearful passions of her soul.”
“Your objections are futile, Edric; at any
rate, they are of no avail. You must marry
her—I am sorry it is against your inclination,
but I will not have my authority disputed:—
besides, the disappointment to the duke would
be dreadful. It was but this morning that he
proposed, that as soon as you and Edmund


TH E MUMMY. 85
should marry, I should give up my estate to
you, and he his to your brother, whilst we two
old 'folks should retire to the cottage on the
hill; and pass the remainder of our lives in
contemplating with rapture the happiness of
our children.”
“I own the duke is so obstinate—”
“So, you have discovered that, have you ?
Well, you are right there; for when he has
taken a fancy into his head, no arguments can
turn him from his point. But there is a differ-
ence between obstinacy and firmness. Now,
though I am not obstinate like the duke, you
shall find I can be firm, Edric. However, as I
have always been an indulgent father, I do not
wish to decide hastily now, and I give you a week
to make up your mind: at the expiration of
which time you shall marry Rosabella or quit
my house for ever. No reply, young man, I will
not hear a word. Begone; leave me now, and
in a week's time let me know your decision.”
It was in vain to attempt a reply ; and Edric
left his father's presence oppressed by that
strange, mysterious presentiment of evil, which,
like a fearful cloud, dark, gloomy, and impene-


86 THE MUMMY.
trable, sometimes hangs upon our thoughts,
foreboding horrors; though so dimly and in-
distinctly, that, like all the gigantic phantoms
we sometimes fancy through the mist of twi-
light, their terrors seem increased tenfold by the
very uncertainty that half shrouds them from
our sight. Mingled with these feelings, how-
ever, was one of wild, unearthly joy. Driven
from his father's house, he would be free to
travel—his doubts might be satisfied—he
might, at last, penetrate into the secrets of the
grave; and partake, without restraint, of the so
ardently desired fruit of the tree of knowledge.
Nothing would then be hidden from him.
Nature would be forced to yield up her trea-
sures to his view—her mysteries would be re-
vealed, and he would become great, omniscient,
and god-like. His mind filled with a chaos
of thoughts like these, which he strove in
vain to arrange, and which seemed to swell
his brain almost to bursting, Edric involum-
tarily strolled again into the wood he had so
lately quitted, and again throwing himself
upon the banks of the murmuring stream, he
was soon lost in a reverie.


THE MUMMY. 87
CHAPTER W.
IN the mean time, different emotions were
agitating violently the bosoms of the two love-
ly heiresses of the duke. When they reached
the castle, each of them retired to her separate
apartment to ruminate upon what had passed.
Confidence did not exist between them, for con-
fidence requires congeniality of mind, and those
of the fair cousins were essentially different.
Each princess, however, had a favourite atten-
dant, or rather a companion, in whose bosom
she was in the habit of pouring her thoughts;
and, on their arrival at the castle, they parted
immediately, equally eager to find their re-
spective confidants, and inform them of all that
had happened. Marianne had been the atten-


88 THE MUMMY.
dant of Rosabella from her childhood; and
haughty as the Princess naturally was, she
was, like many other haughty people, complete-
ly the slave of her servant. Marianne was
perfectly aware of her power, and she occa-
sionally used it tyrannically: on the present oc-
casion, however, she was really alarmed at the
glowing cheeks, sparkling eyes, and agitated
frame of Rosabella, and asked, with an appear-
ance of deep interest, if she were ill.
“In mind, though not in body,” replied
Rosabella, throwing herself upon a sofa, and
hiding her face in both her hands. “Oh, Ma-
rianne ! what a wretch I am ſ”
“What is the matter 7” asked the suivante.
“He loves her he adores her "cried Rosa-
bella, starting from her couch and traversing
the room rapidly. “Curses on her beauty
O that a look of mine could wither it! or
that she could feel the burning fire that rages
here !” Then stopping suddenly, she gazed
upon her attendant with the wildness of a
maniac, and, pressing her hand firmly against
her side, threw herself again upon her couch,


THE MUMMY. 89
exclaiming, “Oh, Marianne ! why am I not
beloved like Elvira P”
“And are you certain that she is be-
loved P”
“Certain ſ” reiterated Rosabella, wringing
her hands; “Alas! alas! would I were not
so certain ; but can I doubt the evidence of
my senses 2 This day—this very day! I saw
Father Morris put a letter into her hands,
which was inclosed in that addressed to Sir
Ambrose. I saw a blush of conscious plea-
sure glow upon her cheeks as she perused it,
and I could have stabbed her to the heart,
—yes, and exulted in her dying agonies—
triumphed in her groans. Oh, Mariannel is
it not extraordinary that one so great, so noble,
and so exalted as Edmund, can love such a
poor, weak, feeble being as Elvira P But she
loves him not; at least not as he should be
loved. She is incapable of it.”
“I wonder Father Morris gave her the letter.”
“He could not help it, Marianne. It fel.
from its inclosure when Sir Ambrose tore it
open; but she saw it fall. I even saw her eye


90 THE MUMMY.
rest upon the address; Father Morris merely
picked it from the ground, and placed it in her
hands.”
“I thought he would not have given it to
her voluntarily.”
“No ; I think not. I believe the father is
my friend, though I own sometimes it appears
strange to me, Marianne, that he should seem
to prefer my interest to that of every one else,
when so many ties bind him to Sir Ambrose's
family, and so few to me: may, though I am
often peevish and unreasonable with him, he
never is offended, and appears to remain still
as warmly attached to me as before:—I cannot
account for it.
“He has ties that bind him to you that you
know not of,” said Marianne, in a low, under
voice; “he was your father's friend.”
“Was he f" cried Rosabella, eagerly; “then
perhaps he may enable me to clear off the shade
that has so long hung upon my father's name.
By heaven neither the gratification of my
love nor of my revenge would give me half the
pleasure.”


THE MUMMY. 91
“You had better not ask him,” said Ma-
rianne, in the same low, mysterious tone; “you
can learn nothing upon that subject which it
would give you pleasure to hear.” Then chang-
ing her voice, she added, “But what said Edric
to the news of his brother's glory f"
“I know not—I care not l Ice itself cannot
be colder than Edric. When we met, and he
offered his hand to greet me, his touch seemed
to freeze my very veins. Cold, prudent, cal-
culating, and cautious, he has all the vices of
age without its excuses:—I hate him ſ”
“You do not then, I suppose, long for the
moment when you are to become his bride P"
asked the companion, with a sarcastic smile.
“Long for it, Marianne P" cried Rosabella,
starting from her couch, and clasping her hands
together with energy—“long for it ! No ; if
all other resources fail, death shall free me
before the hated moment arrives.” And as
she spoke, Rosabella walked up and down the
room, in a state of violent agitation.
“But your uncle?” resumed Marianne.
“My uncle !” repeated Rosabella, stopping


92 THE MUMMY.
short, “yes, yes; my uncle is positive—and I
—a poor dependant, and in his power. But
even that shall not control my will. Poor
and dependant as I am—I am free; and sooner
would I labour for my bread, sooner would I
perish in the streets, or endure unheard of
torments, than live in a palace surrounded by
crowds of adoring slaves, if the price were that
I must call Edric husband.”
Marianne, satisfied with the ease with which
she found she could play upon the feelings of
her mistress, now touched a chord that thrilled
to softer emotions.
“I can never believe,” said she, “that a
mind so noble as that of Edmund, can long re-
main in the thraldom of Elvira. When he
comes to know her better, and to feel the feeble-
ness of her soul, he must despise her.”
“Ah I do you think so f" cried Rosabella
eagerly. “But you deceive yourself, Mari-
anne; Edmund is so blinded that he fancies her
very faults perfections.”
“But that blindness cannot last for ever, and
when it wears off, disgust must ensue.”


THE MUMMY. 93
“Oh, Marianne, if it were so ſ” exclaimed
Rosabella; and, sitting down, she rested her
elbows on her knees, and pressed her hands
against her beating forehead, concealing her
face and remaining apparently lost in medita-
tion. Marianne did not disturb her. She was
aware that she had given her active imagination
a theme to work upon, and she left her to enjoy
it; tranquilly resuming her usual avocations
without seeming to notice her abstraction.
Whilst this scene was passing in the apart-
ment of Rosabella, Elvira was informing her
confidant, Emma, who had been her governess
and remained her companion, of the pleasure she
had experienced from hearing of the success of
Edmund, and from the tenderness of his letter.
“How I wish I could love him as he deserves,”
said she, “but, alas, I fear it is not in my na-
ture. I can scarcely even comprehend what he
thinks I ought to feel, and the violence of his
manner terrifies me beyond expression. Is it not
extraordinary, Emma, that this passion, which
seems so universally extended throughout all
nature, should be alone a stranger to my breast


94 THE MUMMY.
—that I alone, should be debarred from feel-
ing its influence P Edmund complains of my
coldness; and I feel that he has reason to do so.
I feel that his love is different from mine : I es-
teem and respect him ; I have even a sincere
friendship for him, and no one values his worth
more than I; I should also be very sorry if
any misfortune were to befall him ; but this is
all, and I do not think I am capable of feeling
more for any one.”
“Indeed you deceive yourself,” replied
Emma ; “I am sure a heart so kind and affec-
tionate as yours is capable of love. Do not
marry Lord Edmund ; I am certain you do not
love him as you will love one day: and if a day
should arrive, when you feel a real passion,
what will be your horror at the recollection of
the sacred ties which bind you to one who is in-
different to you. I shudder at the thought.”
“And so should I, Emma; but that it is
impossible such an event can happen. If I
were married to Edmund, I never could love
another, even if my nature were susceptible of
the passion: a fact I much doubt.”


THE MUMMY . 95
Emma shook her head incredulously. “Oh ſ”
sighed she ; “how little do you know of love ſ”
“I know more of it than you imagine. In
my opinion, people would never fall in love, if
they had abundance of other thoughts to occupy
their minds. They would marry, of course:
but that, as every body knows, is quite a differ-
ent thing.”
“Then you disbelieve in love entirely P"
“Not entirely; but I think what is generally
called love is the offspring of idleness. When
people have nothing to do, particularly if they
happen to have warm imaginations, they amuse
themselves by picturing an idol of perfection.
This they endow with all kinds of virtue pro-
bable and improbable; and they are enchanted
with the fantasy, because it is their own creation.
They soon find a face or figure that pleases them,
and to this they attach the charms they had
before given their imaginary idol—no matter
whether they accord or not. When people are
what is called in love, they are like persons
in green spectacles, they see every thing of a
colour that does not really belong to it. Mar-


96 THE MUMMY.
riage, however, lifts up the magic veil, and
displays the real faults and imperfections of
each individual. The self-deluded mortals then
find out their mistake, though too late ; and
start back aghast at the appalling spectre that
presents itself, crying out bitterly against de-
ception; whilst, in fact, they have been only
deceiving themselves.”
“You reason admirably; but it is only from
the head, not the heart. If you had ever felt, you
would perceive the fallacy of your arguments.”
“I think not ; for I am convinced the expe-
rience of ninety-nine persons out of a hundred
would confirm what I say, if they could but be
persuaded to avow their real sentiments. This,
however, they are always, in such cases, very
reluctant to do, as no one likes to own himself
deceived.”
“And do you think all love is like that you
have been speaking of P’’
“Heaven forbid!—No—no, Emma, do not
imagine I am such a heretic as to deny the ex-
istence of true love. I only think it is very
difficult to be met with. That it does exist, I


THE MUMMY. 97
firmly believe; but few, very few are the bosoms
that are capable of feeling it.”
“Now I agree with you perfectly. I thought
you could not mean all you before asserted.”
“FXcuse me, Emma, I did mean what I
said. But I did not then speak of real love;
I spoke only of the passion, or rather fancy,
that usurps its name. Real, pure, undefiled
love is that absorbing affection that prefers
another's happiness to its own ; that devotion
that would sink unknown to the grave, to pro-
cure another's happiness; that seeks not its own
gratification, but would sacrifice all the world
can give, to promote the welfare of another;
that can taste of no pleasure and partake of no
delight, unless it be participated by the beloved
object, and even then, joys in his satisfaction
more than in its own. This is what I call
love. I can imagine such a passion, though I
shall never feel it. However, that it may be
felt I am firmly convinced; though even you
must acknowledge, it is rare to find it.
“Alas ! my dear mistress t” said Emma,
sighing heavily. “Every word you utter, con-
WOL. I. F


98 THE MUMMY.
vinces me you deceive yourself. For God's
sake, do not marry Lord Edmund. You could
have no idea of the romantic feelings you de-
scribe, if your heart were not open to receive
them. Lord Edmund does not—”
“ Hush hush, Emma 1" exclaimed Elvira,
playfully interrupting her. “It is of no use.
Say what we will, like most people that argue,
we are sure to remain of the same opinion when
we have done. I don't believe anybody ever
yet was convinced by words; we must wait for
facts, and, en attendant, suppose we consult
upon what dress will be most becoming for us
to wear at the approaching ceremony.
Emma gladly consented; and the princess
and her companion were soon involved in a maze
of ribbons, crapes, gauzes, silks and satins,
from which it would be quite in vain for me to
attempt to extricate them. -
When Edric next saw his father, after the
partial explanation that had taken place be-
tween them, he was excessively surprised to find
him behave exactly as usual. The youthful
philosopher was rather disconcerted at this


THE MUMMY. 99
conduct, which completely deranged all his
speculations. In the course of his medita-
tions in the grove, he had magnanimously made
up his mind to endure every species of per-
secution rather than submit in the slightest
degree to alter his opinions; and such is the
strange and whimsical inconsistency of the hu-
man mind, that he was actually disappointed
when he found there appeared little prospect of
his heroic resolutions being called into practice.
It may seem strange to those who are feel-
ingly convinced of the substantial comforts of
an hospitable mansion and well supplied table,
that any one should be found quixotic enough
to lament that he had lost the chance of
being deprived of them; but Edric's was the
age of romance. His life had hitherto passed
in one dull monotonous round, and the prospect
of bustle and adventure has, in such cases, most
irresistible charms. He also knew nothing of
the world; and was almost as ignorant of the
real evils of life, as the French princess, who,
hearing that some persons had died of hunger,
wondered at their folly, and said that for her
F 2


100 THE MUMMY.
part, rather than be famished, she would eat
bread and cheese. Thus, as we said before,
Edric was rather chagrined than delighted,
when his father greeted him the morning after
their conference as affectionately as before, and
very amicably proposed that as soon as break-
fast was ended, they should take a walk together
to the castle of the duke.
Unwilling to vex his father needlessly by
refusing, and yet fearful of compromising his
firmness, by appearing to accede to what
might be treachery on the part of his oppo-
ments, our young philosopher gave a rather
ungracious assent to this proposition, and re-
mained apparently absorbed in meditation
during the whole walk. They found the duke
extremely busy. Like many other people who
have few real affairs to occupy them, he was
quite delighted with any thing that seemed to
promise a little bustle, and was firmly resolved
to make the most of it. He was then giving
orders for an illumination, and a public din-
ner to his tenants; bell-ringing, speech-making,
and a variety of other things, we have really


THE MUMMY. 101
neither time nor patience to enumerate. Busy
as he was, however, he was glad to see our
friends, and greeted them most cordially.
“You are come in the very nick of time,”
said he: “I was just upon the point of send-
ing for you. Do you know, Sir Ambrose, it
has struck me that this triumph of Edmund's
will be an admirable opportunity for his mar-
riage; ay, and for yours too, Edric. What say
you, Sir Ambrose 2"
“Oh! of course I can have no objection.”
“And of course,” resumed the Duke, “I
do not suppose the young men can have any.
What do you say, Edric P’’
But Edric did not speak: for, to own the
truth, he did not exactly know what to say.
“Edric is so delighted, that it has depriv-
ed him of the power of utterance,” observed
the baronet, rather maliciously, perceiving the
duke grow impatient.
“I trust your grace will excuse me,” said
Edric, at length recovering himself; “but—
but—”
“But what P” said the duke, impatiently.


102 THE MUMMY.
“I thought,” resumed Edric, with consider-
able hesitation, “that your grace did not intend
that the princesses should marry—till—till they
had passed the age that would render—that is
to say, that does render them eligible candidates
for the throne.—”
Edric did not express himself very clearly ;
as he was not altogether certain of what he
was saying. The duke, however, heard enough
to put him into a passion.
“So I did,” exclaimed he, “I know that
perfectly; but I have altered my mind, I tell
you: Claudia isn't above thirty, and she's likely
to live these fifty years, so it is of no use wait-
ing for her death. Besides, I should like to see
my children married before I die. I am get-
ting old ; and anxiety in these respects en-
creases with declining years.”
“Then my anxiety ought to be greater
than yours, duke, for I am the eldest,” said
Sir Ambrose.
“By a couple of years, at least,” returned
the duke, laughing, “for I suppose that is
about the difference in our ages. But you


THE MUMMY. 103
don't answer me, Edric. Do you think you
have eloquence enough to persuade your mis-
tress to relinquish the prospect of a throne in
your behalf?”
“I would not wish her to make any sa-
crifice upon my account,” replied Edric.
“Confound such coldness why, when I
was a young man, my heart would have beat
like a pendulum in perpetual motion at such a
proposition. Go to her, man! and try your
fortune.—
* She is a woman, therefore to be wooed;
She is a woman, therefore to be won;’
or rather what, perhaps, will be better, I will
send for her here, and tell her my will. Egad
I have a mind to surprise Edmund, and let
you grace his triumph as bride and bride-
groom.”
“Rosabella would never consent to such a
proposition,” exclaimed Edric, willing to post-
pone the dreaded explanation as long as pos-
sible.
“I think not,” resumed the duke, “if you
woo her with that face. “However, you need


104 THE MUMMY.
not distress yourself, as you will have nothing
to say till you get to the altar. I’ll take all
the rest upon myself, and I’ve a notion I
shall prove the better suitor. I know women
well, and how to manage them. I’ll defy any
woman in the world to have a will of her own
whilst she is in my custody. I know how to
quiet them and bring them round. You shall
see how I will manage Rosabella. She won't
have a word to say for herself. Here Augus-
tus, tell the Princess Rosabella I wish to
speak with her.” -
“Hold ſ” cried Edric, “I cannot allow you
to send for the princess till I have first ex-
plained my real sentiments **
“Nonsense!” said the duke. “However, I
see there is no occasion to send for her; for
yonder she comes. I will meet her and explain
my sentiments, and then it will be quite time
enough to talk about yours.”
So saying, he broke from Edric, who attempt—
ed to detain him; and advanced to meet Rosa-
bella.
“Good God!” exclaimed Edric, “what will


THE MUMMY. I05
become of me 2 this obstinate old man will tell
her, I wish our union; and for worlds, I would
not mortify the proud spirit of Rosabella, by
publicly declining her hand. What shall I do P
I must request a private interview, and throw-
ing myself upon her mercy, persuade her to
reject me.”
“Then you still persist in your determina-
tion,” said Sir Ambrose. “I had hoped my
kindness in appearing to forget what passed
yesterday, had disposed you to comply with my
wishes. However, since you seem inclined to
adhere to your resolution, you cannot be sur-
prised that I should follow your example, and
I can only repeat, that if you do not marry Ro-
sabella, you know the alternative.”
“I do,” said Edric, firmly ; “and I am pre-
pared to meet it.” -
In the mean time, the duke had met Rosa-
bella, and had evidently begun to declare his
wishes to her, for the colour had fled from her
cheeks, and her eyes were cast upon the ground,
whilst her strongly compressed lips, as she walk-
ed silently by his side, showed that it was with
F 5


106 THE MUMMY.
infinite difficulty that she controlled her feel-
ings sufficiently to hear him with patience.
“In short,” said the duke, as they drew
near Sir Ambrose and his son, “I have fixed
upon the day after to-morrow for your wed-
ding, and, though I own the time is somewhat
short to make preparations, you must be satis-
fied to have your wedding clothes after your
marriage instead of before, which I should
think need not make much difference. So now
all you'll have to do, will be to tell your
cousin; and the day after to-morrow your
name will be Montagu.”
“And do you know of whom you are dis-
posing so unceremoniously?” asked Rosabella,
raising her brilliant eyes from the ground, and
fixing them upon him with a look of proud
scorn. The duke shrunk involuntarily from
the withering glance, which seemed to fall upon
him with the fabled power of that of the basilisk.
“Of whom I am disposing P” stammered he,
unconsciously repeating her words, “Of whom
I am disposing P Why, of my niece, to be


THE MUMMY. 107
sure,” he continued, arranging with difficulty
his scattered ideas. “You are my miece, are
you not f"
“Yes,” returned Rosabella, “unfortunately
I am your niece; and I blush for an uncle who
does not scruple to abuse so barbarously the
last legacy bequeathed to him by an unfortu-
nate brother. Yes, my lord duke, I am your
niece—your protégée-your dependant. I am
not ashamed to own that I owe my daily bread
to your bounty; but notwithstanding all this,
I am not aware that I am your slave, nor do I
think the pecuniary obligations I am under to
you, sufficient to give you the right of dispo-
sing of me as an article of furniture, or a beast
of burthen.”
“You mistake the matter entirely, Rosa-
bella,” said the duke; “I do not wish to hurt
your feelings.”
“Do you think, then, that I am formed of
stone or iron, that I am to be told to marry when
and where you list, without having my inclina-
tions consulted or my affections gained P. Look


108 The Mu M MY.
at the bridegroom for whom you destine me.
Certainly I must be insensibility itself to resist
such overwhelming ardour.”
“You are right, Rosabella,” replied the
duke; “he is enough to provoke a stone. I
admire your spirit; a woman should not un-
sought be won, and he, I own, looks as if he
expected you to go down upon your knees, and
beg him to accept of your hand.”
“You are mistaken,” returned Edric, now
taunted into the necessity of avowing himself,
in spite of his former resolutions; “it is not
merely coldness that dictates my conduct. I
should have explained myself before, had you
permitted it, though I would willingly have
spared the princess this public declaration.
However, as I am now forced to avow my real
sentiments, I openly and solemnly protest, that
no torments shall ever force me to become the
husband of Rosabella. I am sorry——”
“Spare your pity, Sir,” said the princess,
haughtily, and interrupting him—“I, at least,
have no occasion for it; for know, that I too
would sooner experience a thousand deaths than


THE MUMMY. 109
become your wife. Nothing but the respect I
owe my uncle has prevented my declaring my
sentiments sooner.”
“And only my affection for my father kept
me silent.” -
“What a considerate pair and how high-
ly we ought to feel obliged to them " said
the duke, ironically. “And pray, if your
respect and affection permit you to answer the
question, what may it be your high will and
pleasure to intend doing now Pº
“Whatever you please,” replied both Edric
and Rosabella, almost at the salue instant.
“Dear me ! how amazingly condescending !
So, as long as you are permitted to have your
own way, we may have the honour of suggest-
ing plans for your approbation whenever we
please. How astonishingly kind I am afraid
we shall never be able to show ourselves pro-
perly grateful, Sir Ambrose.” ..
“This irony, my lord,” said Edric, firmly,
“is unworthy both of yourself and us. I will
allow that you and my father have both reason to
be displeased with our conduct, as it has dis-


110 THE MUMMY.
appointed hopes which you have long cherished ;
but permit me to say, that if you had expressed
your displeasure in serious, manly, and open
terms as he did, it would have been much more
befitting your high rank and the importance of
the subject, than the taunting irony you have
thought proper to make use of.”
“Schooled too ! by St. Wellington 1" ex-
claimed the duke. “Upon my word, these are
fine times, when a man of my age and rank
is to be lectured by a beardless stripling !”
“I did not mean to offend your grace,”
Tsald Edric; "-and-Ham sorry the violence of
my feelings compelled me to use language un-
befitting my youth, and disrespectful to an old
and valued friend of my father.”
“Say no more, young man,” replied the
duke, “apologies only double an offence. If
such are your sentiments, I would rather you
declared than concealed them, as I think
even insolence preferable to hypocrisy. How-
ever, after what has passed, I can never
meet you amicably again, and I shall even
avoid entering the house of my friend, Sir
Ambrose, whilst you remain in it.” This was


THE MUMMY. 111
spoken with dignity, and a majestic firmness of
tone. The duke's voice, however, trembled a
little as he continued—“I shall be sorry to lose
the society of my old friend, and I should be
equally sorry to induce him to desert you, but
I cannot willingly expose myself to insult; and
I must accordingly decline all farther inter-
course with your family.”
“ Decline all farther intercourse with our
family ſ” exclaimed Sir Ambrose. “This from
you, duke And Edmund ! my darling Ed-
mund ! is he to suffer for the faults of his
brother ?”
“How do you know that the loss of my
daughter would make him suffer?" asked the
duke, sneeringly. “Perhaps when the moment
came for me to give her to him, he too would
make a bow, and humbly asking my pardon,
beg leave to decline the honour. Oh curse
such politeness ſ” -
“My dear duke, I would answer for Ed-
mund with my life. He adores Elvira, and
loves you as a father. You, too, have always
professed to love him—”
“And so I do. Didn't I rejoice like an old


112 THE MUMMY.
fool at his triumph P Didn't I determine to
give my daughter, and bestow my estate
upon him P And were not these proofs of
love P”
“They were, they were ! my dear friend
and, as he has never done any thing to offend
you, why should not your favourable inten-
tions continue P Why should you punish him
on account of this ungrateful idiot, whom I re-
nounce for ever.”
“Oh, my father my dear father ſ” exclaim-
ed Edric; “do not say for ever !”
“Yes, for ever ! I repeat,” resumed Sir Am-
brose. “Begone and let me never see you
more. I told you yesterday my determination,
and as you have chosen to incur the penalty,
you must take the consequence. Come, my
friend,” continued he, taking the arm of the
duke, “let us leave him to his own re-
flections. Thank God we are none of us
answerable for the faults of our children; and it
would indeed be sad, if you and I were to
break a friendship that has lasted half a cen-
tury, on account of the childish folly of an in-
considerate boy ſ”


THE MU M MY. 113
“It would, indeed,” returned the duke; “and
it would have broken my heart to have quarrel-
ed with my darling Edmund. Yet, it is hard,
at my time of life, to be disappointed in one's
fondest hopes.”
And as he walked away with Sir Ambrose,
the tears actually streamed down his cheeks.
Both Edric and Rosabella were affected, but,
wisely considering that they could say nothing
likely to allay the storm, they remained silent
till the old men had gradually disappeared.


114 THE MUMMY.
CHAPTER VI.
WHEN Sir Ambrose and the duke thus with-
drew, Edric and Rosabella were left alone to-
gether, and remained for some moments in per-
fect silence, for both felt keenly the awkward-
ness of their situation. After standing for some
time looking as foolish as their enemies could
reasonably desire, Edric bowed, and would
have made good his retreat, but Rosabella stop-
ped him.
“Let us be friends, Edric,” said she, smiling
and holding out her hand, “ though we are no
longer lovers.”
Edric took the offered hand, and involunta-
rily pressed it to his lips. “Upon my word, you
improve ſ” continued Rosabella gaily; “I de-


THE MUMMY. II5
clare I never saw such an instance of gallantry
from you before, during the whole course of our
courtship !”
Edric smiled as he replied, “If you knew
the burthen that has been taken from my mind
by the explanation of this morning—”
“Hush hush " cried Rosabella laughing,
“Now you have spoiled all again. I was afraid
your gallantry was too great to be lasting.”
“I acknowledge,” replied Edric, joining in
her mirth, “that it is not very polite in me to
rejoice in being freed from your chains: but I
am no flatterer, and—and—”
“A truce with apologies,” exclaimed Rosa-
bella; “as my uncle very justly observed just
now, they only make the matter worse. The
case is simply this: you and I were not suited
for each other; we found it out, and we are both
glad to be released from ties that we discovered
were incompatible with our happiness. “Can
any thing be more clear P' as Dr. Entwerfen says.
You, I presume, are going to travel, and to
gratify your natural love of variety and wish to
acquire information; whilst I, poor unfortunate


116 THE MUMMY.
damsel that I am, must remain at home and
wear the willow, till I am fortunate enough to
meet with a swain who has the penetration to
discover my charms.”
“And most ardently do I hope that it may
soon be the case !” said Edric, astonished at her
affability, and feeling more kindly disposed to-
wards her than he had ever done before. “You
are right in supposing I wish to travel; but,
alas! I have not now the power. My father
is too much offended to afford me the means;
and without money—”
“Travelling is far from agreeable,” inter-
rupted Rosabella, smiling: “is not that what
you would say? Why not apply to Father
Morris, then; he can, and I am sure, will help
you. For myself, I am powerless, except as far
as giving advice.”
“Your advice, however, is excellent,” replied
Edric, regarding her with still encreasing amaze-
ment; “and I assure you I will follow it to the
letter. I never thought of applying to the re-
verend father, though I now feel it is the best
thing I can do.”


THE MUMMY. 117
“Why then do you look at me so incredu-
lously?” continued Rosabella; “I can have no
motive for deceiving you; and yet you look as
suspicious as though you thought I had. I
own my behaviour towards you is changed; but
remember the different circumstances in which
I am now placed. Formerly I feared even to
speak to you, lest my words should be deem-
ed an encouragement of the pretensions I sup-
posed you to entertain to my hand. Now that
we are both free, that reason no longer exists;
and besides, I feel grateful to you for declaring
your sentiments so openly, and thus saving me
from my uncle's displeasure. “Can any thing be
more simple P’ as your friend Dr. Entwerfen
would say.”
Notwithstanding Rosabella's apparent open-
ness, however, and the plausible reasons she gave
for her conduct, Edric could not divest himself
of the idea that she wished to get him out of
the kingdom as speedily as possible, for some
other motives than those she thought proper to
avow. There likewise appeared some mystery in
her speaking so confidently of the assistance of


118 THE MUMMY.
Father Morris; for as the duke's family had a
regular confessor, Father Murphy, it seemed
strange that Rosabella should have an inter-
course with any other priest, beyond that re-
quired by the common forms of society; and so
slight an intimacy could scarcely warrant the
positive assertion she had made use of Edric,
however, was too anxious to avail himself of any
opportunity that offered of proceeding to
Egypt, to trouble himself with long investi-
gation of the subject; and when he quitted Ro-
sabella, he proceeded in search of Father Mor-
ris as a matter of course, and almost without
any volition of his own.
The suite of rooms appropriated to Father
Morris in the mansion of Sir Ambrose was in
a wing partly detached from the main dwelling;
and thither Edric bent his steps. As he
approached, however, to his great surprise he
heard a sound of blows followed by deep groans.
Knowing that it was the hour of dinner for the
domestics, and that none of the other inmates of
the mansion were at home but the friar and him-
self, he could not at first account for this strange


THE MUMMY. 119
and fearful noise; but finding, as he advanced,
the sounds proceeded from the inner chamber of
the priest, where no one but himself ever ven-
tured, he soon became satisfied that Father
Morris was performing a penance of self-flagel-
lation; and as it was deemed impious to inter-
rupt a penitence, he seated himself quietly in
the outer chamber, waiting the priest’s leisure;
wondering, however, to himself, what crime so
holy a man could possibly have committed, that
could require so severe an expiation.
When Father Morris made his appearance,
it was with his usual downcast eyes and com-
posed look. He expressed his astonishment at
seeing Edric, but made no allusion to the pe-
nance he had just been performing, and listened
with a cold unmoved aspect to Edric's commu-
nication.
“Then I am to understand,” said he, when it
was finished, “that you are like the prince we
were reading of the other day, in a book we
found in your tutor’s library. You cannot be
happy because you have never been miserable ;
and you are going to plunge into all the cares
\º
j”
º


120 THE MUMMY.
and troubles of the world, merely to learn how
to enjoy retirement.”
“Not exactly so, father;” rejoined Edric;
“I have two other motives, – the anger of my
father, and the earnest tormenting wish I be-
fore confessed to you, of diving into the secrets
of the grave.”
“And how is that to be accomplished by
your leaving England P’’
“I wish to try to resuscitate a mummy.”
“The scheme is wild, vague, and impracti-
cable.”
“Not if Dr. Entwerfen's hypothesis be true.
For, supposing the souls of the ancient Egyp-
tians to be chained to their bodies, and to be re-
maining in them in a torpid state, it is very
possible that by employing so powerful an
agent as galvanism, re-animation may be pro-
duced. I have already seen some wonderful
instances of the vivifying power of the machine;
and as the Egyptians took care to preserve the
bodies of their dead quite entire, probably
from the idea I have just alluded to, I think
the mummies are the best subjects we can pos-
sibly fix upon for our experiments.”


THE MUMMY. 121
“The ancient Egyptians did not imagine the
souls of their dead remained in the bodies, but
that they would return to them after the ex-
piration of a certain number of years; so that
your hypothesis, as far as it rests upon their
opinions, falls to the ground.”
“Do not call it my hypothesis,” returned
Edric, “it is that of Dr. Entwerfen; my own
opinion is decidedly different—for I cannot
imagine any idea of death that does not im-
ply a separation between the body and soul.
The subject, however, is curious; to me high-
ly interesting; and I own, candidly, there are
many mysteries connected with it, which it
would give me the highest satisfaction to have
explained.”
“And these mysteries, which have vainly
excited the speculation of the learned since
the commencement of the world, you think
your journey to Egypt will enable you to
unravel,” said Father Morris, with a sardonic
sneer. Edric felt irritated at his manner, and
replied warmly:—
“I am not presumptuous, father; but as
vol. 1. G


122 T H E MUMMY.
even you must allow, man is often but a blind
instrument in the hands of fate, it is possible
that the racking desire I feel to explore these
mysteries may be an impulse from a superior
power, and a proof that I am destined to be
the mortal agent of their revelation to man.
Egypt is a country rich in monuments of
antiquity; and all historians unite in declar-
ing her ancient inhabitants to have pos-
sessed knowledge and science far beyond
even the boasted improvements of modern
times. For instance, could we attempt to
erect stupendous buildings like the pyramids,
where enormous masses are arranged with
geometrical accuracy, and the labours of man
have emulated the everlasting durability of
nature ? Are we even capable of conceiv-
ing works so majestic as those they put in
execution ? No; assuredly not. In every
point they surpassed us.”
“Even in their religion ?” asked Father
Morris sarcastically.
“No,” returned Edric ; “every scheme of
religion falls infinitely below the divine perfec-


THE MUMMY. 123
tion of Christianity; but as Christianity was
not in the times we are speaking of, revealed, it
cannot be denied that the Egyptians made some
approach to wisdom even in their devotions.
They worshipped Nature, though they diguised
her under the symbols of her attributes, and
gratified the vulgar taste by giving them tangible
objects to represent ideas too sublime for their
unenlightened comprehension. That they en-
tertained the divine idea of a resurrection, and
of rewards and punishments in a future life, is
evident, not only from their favourite fable of
the Phoenix, and the use they made of the now
hackneyed image of the Butterfly ; but by the
care they bestowed upon the preservation of
the body; their mournings for the loss of
Osiris, and rejoicings when he was found ; and
the kind of trial to which they subjected the
human corpse after death, when, if serious
crimes were alleged, and proved against it, it
was denied the rites of sepulture, and left to
rot, unlamented. Then, can any modern insti-
tutions excel the wisdom of the laws enacted by
the Pharoahs? or can any modern magnificence
G 2


124 THE MUMMY.
equal that displayed in the cities of Memphis
and Thebes F And since this will hardly be dis-
puted, what country can be more fitting than that
once so highly favoured, to be the scene of the
most important discovery ever made by Man P
Deride me if you will ; I feel a superior power
inspires my wishes. I feel irresistibly impelled
forward. I feel called upon to act by a force
far superior to my own, and I will obey its
dictates. You smile, and secretly ridicule
my projects; but remember that excessive in-
credulity sometimes savours as strongly of folly
as credulity itself, and that both are alike inju-
rious to the progress of science.”
“I do not doubt it,” said Father Morris,
with provoking coldness; “though it must
certainly be allowed not to be the prevailing
foible of the present day. However, without
staying to discuss that point at present, I
humbly suggest, that, as I happen unfortu-
mately to be rather pressed for time, it may
be as well to condescend to bestow a few mi-
nutes' attention upon the best human means
of enabling you to fulfil the high destinies


T H E MUMMY. 195
that await you in Egypt—as, notwithstand-
ing the imperious nature of the impulse that
invites you there, I presume you are aware
that the vulgar agency of money will be
necessary, as well as the scientific one of gal-
vanism.”
The feelings of Edric were too highly
wrought to bear this irony; and, snatching up
his hat, he rushed out of the room, casting a
look of indignation at the priest, who vainly
endeavoured to stop him. Maddened by the
conflicting emotions that struggled in his bosom,
and disgusted alike with himself, Father Mor-
ris, and all the world, Edric hurried on, totally
unaware which way he was going, till his ca-
reer was stopped by his coming suddenly and
violently in contact with another person, who
was running equally heedlessly with himself,
but in an opposite direction. Both recoiled
some paces from the shock, and Edric found,
to his surprise, it was Abelard whom he had
greeted so unceremoniously. Curiosity to know
what could have occasioned the abstraction of
the worthy butler, (he being generally remark-


126 THE MUM MY.
able for his peculiar attention to matters of
ceremony,) diverted the thoughts of Edric from
himself, and he, for the moment, forgot his own
woes, whilst he inquired into those of Abelard.
“Alas! alas!” said the old man, shaking his
grey head, whilst the tears streamed in torrents
down his wrinkled cheeks, “that I should
ever have lived to see this day ! Oh, Master
Edric how could you irritate your respectable
progenitor? Alas! alas! I feel my lachrymal
gland suffused almost to overflowing, whenever
the recollection of what has passed shoots across
my piamater.”
“For Heaven's sake tell me what is the
matter '"
“Oh dear! oh dear !” sobbed the unhappy
butler, “that such longevity should have been
granted me only that I might see so promising
a young gentleman turned out of doors.”
“Tell me the worst; though, indeed, I now
fear I comprehend your meaning but too well.”
“Sir Ambrose commands that you depart
immediately, and never enter again into the
mansion of your paternal ancestors.”


T H E MUMMY. 127
“What will become of me !” exclaimed
Edric, clasping his hands together, and raising
his eyes to Heaven; then, after a short pause,
he added more composedly, “Well, come what
will, I am resigned. Fate urges me onward
with irresistible violence, and I feel it would be
in vain to attempt to combat against her dictates.
I, at least, am prepared to execute her will.”
“But where will you go?” sobbed Abelard.
“You will want money and friends. Alas !
alas! that I should ever see the son of my old
master stand in need of pecuniary assistance ſ”
“He but repeats the words of Father Mor-
ris,” said Edric ; “and yet how differently his
doubts affect me. The irony of the priest
drove me to despair, but the grief of this old
man soothes my wounded spirit. He surely
loves me.”
These words were uttered in so faint a key,
that the name of Father Morris only caught
the ear of Abelard, and he replied:
“I don’t like Father Morris, and I never
did; though it is now twenty years since he
first entered the family, and though I have


128 THE MUMMY.
never seen any thing in him to censure parti-
cularly, throughout the entire of that long
period, yet my aversion remains undiminished.
I suppose it must be a natural antipathy, and
that the pores of my body don't assimilate
in shape with the atoms that emanate from
his.”
“He drove me almost to madness,” said
Edric.
“I am not surprised at that,” returned Abe-
lard; “for I know he can take a fiendlike
pleasure in tormenting. He can employ the
most provoking, tantalizing expressions, and
yet preserve the same soft, smooth voice, and
keep his palebrae half closed, and his visual
organs fixed upon the ground. Indeed, I
never saw the iris of his eyes dilated in my
life; and then he has such a manner of raising
his supercilia, curving his nose, and drawing
down his depressor anguli oris when he listens
to any one or replies to them, as to give the
expression of a perpetual sneer to his saturnine
countenance.”
Edric's own recent personal experience bore


THE MUMMY. 129
testimony only too forcibly to the justice of
those remarks; and as the wounded man
shrinks from the slightest touch, so did Edric
find the words of Abelard jar upon his nerves;
as turning away from him to hide his emotions,
he encountered the earnest gaze of Father Mor-
ris himself.
“Why do you appear astonished P” said the
priest, smiling. “You are an infant, Edric ;
you quarrel with your best friends, and then ap-
pear surprised that you do not find them as ca-
pricious as yourself. You fancy you are very
angry with me, for instance, and yet I am not
conscious of having done any thing to offend
you. Was it a crime to attempt to moderate an
enthusiasm that I feared might mislead you ?
was it a fault to warn you against the dangers
of a world of which as yet you know so little?
No, no ; I am confident your own reason and
excellent good sense will acquit me, if you
will but suffer them to act. Your imagination
is too vivid, Edric; it sweeps away all before it,
like a torrent. If you would view things calm-
ly, you would perceive your folly. The world
G 5


130 THE MUMMY".
will teach you wisdom. Go then, travel; expe-
rience personal privations and evils of every de-
scription, that you may learn to enjoy the plea-
sures that even now lie within your grasp, but
which you spurn from you with contempt. So
true it is that we never learn the real value of
any blessing till we have experienced the misery
that attends its privation.”
“If this be the case,” replied Edric, soothed
in spite of himself, by the insinuating manner of
the monk, “why should my feelings be an ex-
ception to the general rule? And since all our
pleasures acquire a new zest by the force of
contrast, and mine have long since lost all re-
lish, is it not even wisdom to try the effect of
change?”
“And yet it seems a folly,” said Father
Morris, in his smooth, plausible, hypocritical
voice, with his eyes again fixed upon the ground,
“ to incur a certain evil in the hope of attain-
ing an uncertain good.”
Edric started, and fixed his eyes upon him,
with an expression the monk well understood;
and, not wishing again to provoke him past en-


THE MU M M Y. 131
durance, he continued in a different tone: “But
it is useless for age to preach lessons of prudence
to youth, and as your father says, every one
must purchase his own experience; so we will
now, if you please, change the subject to that
of making preparations for your journey. You
are still determined to visit Egypt, I suppose?”
“It is my most ardent wish.”
“Return then to your own apartment, and
by to-morrow all shall be ready for your de-
parture.”
“He must not enter the house !” said Abe-
lard ; “alas ! alas ! that I should live to say
it ! Sir Ambrose has forbidden him even to
cross the threshold.”
“Can you not remain concealed in the apart-
ment of Dr. Entwerfen P” asked Father Morris,
after a short pause; “no one enters there but
himself; and one of the windows looks upon
this terrace, so that you may reach it unobserv-
ed; Abelard, I am confident, will not betray
you; and I will accompany you, as I wish to
consult with the doctor respecting your intend-
ed voyage.”


132 THE MUMMY.
Edric hastily assented, and bidding Abelard
an affectionate adieu, he and Father Morris ea-
sily climbed through the window that led to the
adytum of Dr. Entwerfen, whilst Abelard, clasp-
ing his hands together, exclaimed as he retired,
“God bless him " Well, he shall not want for
pecuniary assistance at any rate, if Mr. Davis
and I can help it; that is one comfort.”
When Edric and Father Morris entered the
study of Dr. Entwerfen, they found him engag-
ed in what, certainly considering his age and sta-
tion, seemed a very extraordinary amusement.
He was apparently dancing a hornpipe, drawing
his heels together, and alternately rising and
sinking like a clown in a pantomime, twisting
his face, in the mean time, into the most hideous
grimaces.
“What is the matter?” cried Edric and Fa-
ther Morris, both at the same instant, gazing
at him with surprise.
“I—I—I am galvanized,” cried the doctor,
in a piteous tone; nodding his head with a sudden
jerk, that seemed to threaten every instant to
throw it out of its socket; and then, suddenly


THE MUMMY. 133
starting, he kicked out one leg horizontally, and
twirled round upon the other with an air of an
opera dancer.
“How did it happen P” cried Edric, exces-
sively shocked at the unnatural contrast ex-
hibited between the doctor's serious counte-
nance, and involuntary antics.
“I can't—exactly—tell,” replied the doctor,
bolting forth his words with difficulty, and still
swimming, grinning, and capering, to the inex-
pressible horror of his companions, till by de-
grees his grimaces subsided, and he was enabled
at last to stand tolerably steady. He now in-
formed his friends, that trying some experiments
with his galvanic battery, he had unfortunately
operated upon himself; and in his turn listened
to their account of what had passed between
Edric and Sir Ambrose. Instead of express-
ing sorrow, however, when he found his pupil
had quarrelled with his father, the doctor's
eyes sparkled with joy—“Then you must ine-
vitably travel,” exclaimed he. “We shall
visit the pyramids, we shall animate the mum-
mies, and we shall attain immortality.”


134 THE MUMMY.
There was something in this violent expres-
sion of the doctor's transports that did not
quite harmonize with Edric's feelings, espe-
cially as he fancied he perceived a satiri-
cal smile lurking round the lips of Father
Morris.”
“When shall you be ready to set off?” asked
he abruptly.
“To-morrow, if you will,” replied the doc-
tor. “I have foreseen this result some time,
and I have been preparing every thing accord-
ingly. I never knew a young Englishman in
my life, Father Morris, who was not fond of
travelling. The inhabitants of other countries
travel for what they can get, or what they hope
to learn; but an Englishman travels because
he does not know what to do with him-
self. He spares neither time, trouble, normo-
ney; he goes every where, sees every thing;
after which, he returns—just as wise as when
he set out. Not that I blame curiosity—no—I
admire it above all things —it is that which
has led to all the great discoveries that have
been made since the creation of the world, and


THE MUMMY. 135
it is that which now impels us to explore the
pyramids.”
Edric looked excessively annoyed at the
conclusion of this speech, and, to change the
subject, hastily asked the doctor, if he thought
his galvanic battery powerful enough for the
experiment they meant to try with it.
“Powerful ſ” exclaimed the doctor; “why I
feel it even now tingling to my fingers' ends.
I should think, Sir, the effect it has had upon
me is a sufficient proof of the force of the ma-
chine.”
“Undoubtedly ſ” replied Father Morris;
“nay, if we are to judge by that, I only tremble
lest you should animate the pyramids as well
as the mummies, and you must allow it would
be an awkward sight to see them come tum-
bling and slipping along the plain.”
“Sir ſ” said the doctor, staring at him.
“Do you intend visiting any other country
than Egypt 7” asked Father Morris, fearful he
had gone too far, and wishing, for reasons
he did not openly avow, not to offend his com-
panions.


136 Th F. MUMMY.
“I should like to see India,” said the doctor;
“some black-letter pamphlets in my possession,
allude to its being once governed by an old wo- .
man; and as the regular historians make no men-
tion of the fact, I should like to see what tra-
ditions I could gather respecting it on the spot.
The religion of the ancient Hindoos, before they
were converted to Christianity, has been said to
have resembled that of the ancient Egyptians;
by comparing the monuments of both, one might
be made to illustrate the other. I should also
like, before we quit Africa, to see the celebrated
court of Timbuctoo. I have long been in
correspondence with a learned pundit there,
who has communicated to me some of the most
sublime discoveries.”
“The whole of the interior of Africa must
be interesting,” observed Father Morris, “par-
ticularly the rising states on the banks of the
Niger. It is generally instructive as well as
amusing to watch the birth and struggles of
infant republics; and to remark first how fast
the people encroach, and then the governors.
Whilst the rulers are weak, they are always


Th E MUMMY. 137
liberal; but their exalted sentiments in gene-
ral decrease in exact proportion as they become
powerful.” -
“In short,” resumed the doctor, “I would
willingly traverse the whole world; I know but
one country that I should dislike to visit.”
“And which is that ?” asked Edric.
“America,” replied the doctor. “I have no
wish to have my throat cut, or my breath stop-
ped by a bowstring. I have a perfect horror
of despotic governments.”
“Then how do you endure the one we live
under P” asked Father Morris.
“The case is quite different,” returned the
doctor. “With us, the spur of despotism is
scarcely felt ; and the people, being permitted
occasionally to think and act for themselves, are
not debased and brutalized as the slaves of ab-
solute power are in general. Despotism, with
us, is like a rod which the schoolmaster keeps
hung up in sight of his boys, but which he has
very seldom any occasion to make use of From
such despotism as that of the Americans, how-.
ever, Heaven defend us !”


138 the MUMMY.
“Amen” said Edric; “for, as we are happy
now, we should be idiots to desire a change.”
“What an unphilosophical sentimentſ” ex-
claimed the doctor: “I am really quite shocked
that you, Edric, should utter such a speech.
What an abominable doctrine ! Remember,
that if you once allow innovation to be dan-
gerous, you instantly put a stop to all improve-
ment—you absolutely shut and bolt your doors
against it. Oh it is horrible, that such a doc-
trine should be ever broached in a civilized
country. You could not surely be aware of
what you were saying *
“To-morrow,” said Father Morris, address-
ing Edric, and without noticing the indignation
of the learned doctor, “you must proceed to
town, where you can remain at the house of a
friend of mine, till you are ready for your voy-
age to Egypt. I would not, however, advise
you to stay long before you go there; for, as
your father intends visiting London in a day
or two, you might meet, and the consequences
be unpleasant. I have already dispatched a
carrier-pigeon to advise my friend, Lord Gus-


T H E MUMMY. 139
tavus De Montfort, of your arrival; he, I
am sure, will give you a hearty welcome, and
not only afford you the shelter of his house,
but afford you all the assistance in his power,
to enable you to make preparations for your
journey; for which purpose, also, I will take
care to supply you with money. No thanks,”
continued he, stopping Edric, who was about
to speak, “I detest them. If you really feel
obliged to me, you will prove it by remaining
silent. I must leave you now, as my longer
absence might create suspicion. Adieu ! God
bless you ! A balloon will wait for you to-
morrow morning, at the corner of the wood.
The doctor will, of course, accompany you.
I think you may safely rest here concealed till
then. Once more, adieu !”
“Now Father Morris is gone,” said Doctor
Entwerfen to his pupil, “I have a treat for
you. I will show you a curious collection of
ballads, all of which are at least three hundred
years old, which a friend of mine picked up in
London for me the other day, and sent me
down this morning by the stage-balloon. They


140 THE MUMMY.
J
are all of the genuine rag paper, a certain proof
of their antiquity; for, you know, the asbestos
paper we now use has not been invented more
than two hundred years. But you shall see
them : follow me.”
So saying, the doctor trotted off to his li-
brary, that paradise of half-forgotten volumes,
most of which had been accidentally saved
from their well-merited destination of covering
over butter, and wrapping up cheese, to be drawn
from the dust and obscurity in which they had
lain for centuries, to ornament the shelves of
Doctor Entwerfen ; and whose authors, if they
could have taken a peep upon earth, and be-
held them, would have been quite astonished to
find themselves immortal. Entering this em-
porium of neglected learning, the doctor hastily
advanced to a table, on which lay his newly
acquired treasures, and holding them up, ex-
claimed, “Look, Edric, how beautifully dirty
the paper is ; no art could counterfeit this
dingy hue. This sooty tinge is the genuine
tint of antiquity. You know, Edric, in ancient
times, the caloric employed in culinary pur-


THE MUM MY. 141
poses, and indeed for all the common usages of
life, was produced by the combustion of wood,
and of a black bituminous substance, or amphi-
lites, drawn from the bowels of the earth, called
coal, of which you may yet see specimens in the
cabinets of the curious. As these substances
- decomposed, or rather expanded, by the force
of heat, the attraction of cohesion was dissolved,
and the component parts flew off in the shape
of smoke or soot. This smoke, rising into the
air, was dispersed by it, and the minute par-
ticles, or atoms, of which it was composed, fall-
ing and resting upon every thing that chanced
to be in their way, produced that incomparable
dusky hue, which the moderns have so often
tried, though in vain, to imitate. I beg your
pardon, Edric, for using such vulgar language
to express what I wished to say, but really,
treating upon such a subject, I did not know
how to explain myself elegantly.”
“Oh I understood you very well, Sir. Af.
ter all, the only true use of language is to con-
vey the ideas of one person to the understand-
ing of another ; and, provided that end be at-


142 T H E MUMMY.
tained, I really do not see that it is of any con-
sequence what words we make use of.”
“True, Edric dear! you make very just
observations sometimes. Well, but the ballads;
I was going to show you my treasures,-my
jewels l as the Roman lady said of her children.
Look what beautiful specimens these are A
little torn here and there, and with a few of
the lines illegible—but genuine antiques. I'll
warrant every one of them above three hundred
years old. Look, it is real linen paper; you
may tell it by the texture; and then the spell-
ing, see what a number of letters they put into
their words that were of no use. Look at the
titles of them. Here is the “Tragical end of
poor Miss Bailey'—and here “Cherry Ripe’—
and ‘I’ve been roaming.” Here is ‘The loves
of Captain Wattle and Miss Roe'—and here are
“Jessy the flower of Dumblane,” and “Dunois
the brave.” But this is my Phoenix—here is
what will be the envy of collectors here is my
invaluable treasure. This, I believe, is abso-
lutely unique, and that I am so blest as to pos-
sess the only copy extant. The date is wanting,


THE MUMMY. 143
but the manners it describes are so unpolished,
that I should almost think it might be traced
back to the times of the aboriginal Britons.-
Thus it begins:—
At Wednesbury there was a cocking,
A match between Newton and Scroggins ;
The nailors and colliers left work,
And to Spittle's they all went jogging.
Tol de rol lol.”
I used to be very much puzzled at this bur-
then, which is one of frequent recurrence in
ancient songs. At first, I thought it a relic of
some language now irrevocably lost. Then it
struck me, it might be an invocation to the
deities of the aborigines. In short, I was quite
perplexed, and knew not what to think, when
a learned friend of mine hit upon an idea the
other day, which seems completely to solve
the difficulty. He suggests that it was an
ancient manner of running up and down the
scale; and that “ Tol de rol lol’ had the same
signification as “Do remi fa;'—which solution
is at once so simple and ingenious, that I am


144 THE MUMMY.
sure you, as well as myself, must be struck
by it. I here omit a few stanzas, in which the
author enumerates his heroes exactly in the
Homeric manner. The names are so barbarous,
that I am afraid of loosening my teeth in pro-
nouncing them : —
“There was plenty of beef at the dinner,
Of a bull that was baited to death;
Bunny Hyde got a lump in his throat,
Which had like to have stopt his breath.’
What a beautiful simplicity there is in that
last line,
“Which had like to have stopt his breath.’
Oh, we moderns have nothing equal to it !—
* The company fell in confusion,
To see this poor Bunny Hyde choke,
So they hurried him down to the kitchen,
And held his head over the smoke.’
This developesa curious practice of antiquity.
You know, Edric, I explained to you just


THE MUMMY. T45
now the manner in which combustion was for-
merly effected, and the causes of the production
of what was called smoke. I own, however, it
seems a strange way of reviving a half-suffocated
man, to hold his head over smoke, which, being
loaded, as I said before, with innumerable atoms
of all sorts and sizes, would, one might think,
be more likely to impede respiration than restore
it. The fact, however, is undoubted ; and it
not only affords a curious illustration of the
manner of the ancients, but is of itself a strong
proof of the authenticity of the ballad; for
such an idea never could have entered the head
of a modern. To return to poor Hyde—
‘One gave him a kick o' th' stomach,
And another a thump o' th' brow,
His wife cried throw him i' th' stable,
And he will be better just now.’
This unfeeling conduct of his wife does not
say much in commendation of the ladies of those
times. Here follows an hiatus of several stanzas:
I find, however, by a word or two here and
there, that they celebrated the exploits of two
gallic heroes:—
WOL. I. H


146 THE MUMMY.
* The best i' th' country bred;
The one was a brassy-wing black,
And the other a dusky-wing'd red.”
These unfortunate victims of the cruelty of man
seem both to have perished. There is a stanza,
however, before this catastrophe, which seems
to relate to the combat.
“The conflict was hard upon each,
Till glossy-wing'd blacky was choked,
The colliers were nationally vex'd,
And the nailers were all provoked.”
This passage seems very obscure: ‘Nationally'
is evidently a sign of comparison, but I cannot
say I ever saw it employed before. It is,
however, another proof of the amazing anti-
quity of the ballad. After this, it appears that
the people broke in upon the ring, and both
cocks were crushed to atoms. I don't know
whether you are acquainted with the manner in
which these gallic combats were conducted,
Edric. A kind of amphitheatre was formed, up-
on which the birds were pitted one against the
other, whence the name cock-pit. The com-
batants were armed with large iron spurs, and


THE MUMMY. 147
the victor generally left his rival dead upon
the field. The ballad proceeds:—
‘The cock-pit was near to the church,
As an ornament to the town;
One side was an old coal-pit,
And the other was well gorsed round.’
Gorse was a kind of heath or furze.
‘Peter Hadley peep'd through the gorse,
In order to see the cocks fight;
Spittle jobb'd his eye out with a fork,
And said, ‘Blast you, it sarves you right.
This is very spirited and expressive, though the
false quantities render it difficult to read.
“Some folks may think this is strange,
Who Wednesbury never knew,
But those who have ever been there,
Won't have the least doubt but it's true.
For they are all savage by nature,
And guilty of deeds that are shocking,
Jack Baker he whack'd his own feyther,
And so ended the Wednesbury cocking.’”
“It is very fine certainly,” said Edric,
who was half asleep.
H 2


148 THE MUMMY.
“Upon my word,” returned the doctor, “I
don't think you have heard a single word I
have been saying.”
“Oh yes, I have,” replied Edric, “every
syllable. It was about a man killing his own
father, and putting his eyes out with a fork.”
“Eh * cried the doctor, somewhat annoyed
at this unequivocal proof that though his words
might have struck upon the auricular organs of
his pupil, they had not reached his brains. The
exclamation of the doctor restored Edric to his
senses, and he began to apologize.
“I am really very sorry,” said he, “but you
must excuse my inattention. Sometimes, you
know, the mind is not in tune for literary dis-
cussions, even when proceeding from the most
eloquent lips. This is my case at the present
moment. My mind is so occupied by the im-
portant change that has just taken place in my
affairs, that, I own, even your learning and elo-
quence were thrown away upon me.”
“If that be the state of your mind,” replied
the doctor, with chagrin, “it is of no use to
show you any more of my literary treasures;


THE MUMMY. 149
else I have some of matchless excellence. Here
is a letter addressed to Sheridan, a witty writer
of comedies, in the eighteenth century, which
has never been opened,—and here is a tailor's
bill of the immortal Byron, which may possi-
bly never have been looked at. But here is the
most inestimable of my relics. Look, at least,
at this. This piece of paper, covered carelessly
with irregular strokes and lines, was once in the
possession of that enchanting, that inimitable
novelist of the nineteenth century, generally
distinguished in the works of contemporary
writers by the mysterious title of “The Great
!” See, here is half the word
“Waverley, written upon it, and doubtless all
Unknown
these other irregular marks and scratches pro-
ceeded directly from his pen. I confess, Edric,
I never contemplate this relic of genius without
a feeling of reverence, and almost of awe. “Per-
haps,’ say I to myself, when I look at it, “when
these letters were formed, the first idea had but
just arisen in the mind of the author of those
immortal works, which were afterwards des-
tined to improve and delight mankind. Per-


150 THE Mi UMMY.
haps, at that very moment gigantic thoughts
were rushing through his brain, and a variety
of new ideas opening their treasures to his ima-
gination.” Oh, there is something in the mere
random stroke of the pen of a celebrated cha-
racter, inexpressibly affecting to the mind;—it
carries one back to the very time when he lived
—it seems to make one acquainted with him,
and to let us into the secrets of his inmost
thoughts. But I see you are not attending to
me, Edric "
“I am very sorry—another time I should be
happy—but now—I cannot. However, when
we return, perhaps—”
“It may be then too late,” said the doctor,
with solemnity; and locking up his cabinet, he
led the way back to his common sitting-room,
in high dudgeon.


THE MUMMY 151
CHAPTER VII.
THE morning after the events just recorded,
as Mr. Montagu, the brother of Sir Ambrose,
was sitting at the breakfast-table with his wife
and daughter, they were all startled by the un-
expected arrival of a letter from Sir Ambrose.
“Bless me !” cried Mr. Montagu, moved for
once to forget his usual habits of indiffer-
ence—“I do believe it is a letter from my
brother.”
“Your brother ſ” screamed Mrs. Montagu,
starting up to examine it, and in her agitation
overturning a patent steam coffee-machine, by
which coffee was roasted, ground, made, and
poured out with an ad libitum of boiling milk
and sugar, all in the short space of five mi-


152 THE MUMMY.
nutes. “Oh ſ” continued she—“I am scalded
to death !”
“I hope not, my dear,” said Mr. Montagu,
calmly taking up his letter, and carefully ex-
amining it on all sides without opening it.
“Yes,” continued he, “it is indeed from my
brother, and I hope it contains no ill news, for
I do not perceive any signs of mourning about
it.” And so saying, he very tranquilly laid his
letter again upon the table, and recommenced
sipping his coffee.
“La papa, hadn't you better open your
letter and read it 2" asked Clara, who was bu-
sily employed in assisting her mother.
“Ah!” resumed Mr. Montagu. “True ! I
never thought of that—I think I had.” Then
again taking the letter in his hand, he broke
the seal and gave it to Clara to read.
“And do you think my daughter is to leave
me when I am in this miserable condition, Mr.
Montagu, to read letters from your brother,
Mr. Montagu–a man who has always treated
me with such disrespect, Mr. Montagu, and I
half scalded to death !”


THr. MUMMY. 153
*
“I am sure I’m very sorry, my dear,” began
Mr. Montagu.
“Oh, spare your sorrow,” exclaimed his
wife—“for I'm sure you don't care one single
straw about me. You're a cruel man—”
“Hadn't I better read the letter f" asked
Clara, trembling at the thought of the domestic
sparring she saw about to ensue.
“Yes, yes! read, my dear,” said her father,
glad of any pretext to avert the coming storm:
for though he seldom disturbed himself about any
thing, provided his study was not swept oftener
than once a month, and he was not obliged to
submit to the insupportable fatigue of arranging
his ideas in the tense form, necessary for conver-
sation; he had yet a most inconceivable horror
of his wife's fluency of tongue, thus affording a
striking proof of the ingratitude of mortals, who
often ungraciously find fault with the very things
for which they have most occasion to be thank-
ful; as it must be allowed that nothing could
really be more convenient for a man of a taci-
turn disposition, than to have a wife who could
manage to talk at once for him and herself too.
H 5


154 TIIE MUMMY.
Notwithstanding the encouragement of her
father, Clara, however, still paused, looking
with a timid eye towards her mother, for that
lady's permission to begin. Curiosity struggled
powerfully with anger in the breast of Mrs.
Montagu for some minutes; but at last the
former prevailed, and with a nod she permit-
ted Clara to read. She immediately began as
follows:—
“MY DEAR BROTHER.”
“Humph,” observed Mrs. Montagu, “his
last letter began—Sir. He's getting wonder-
fully civil, I think.”
“Pshaw " exclaimed her husband.
Clara continued,—“I am happy to inform
you, that my dear Edmund has gained a glo-
rious victory.”
“And what is that to us, I should like to
know 7" said Mrs. Montagu : “for my part,
I have too much pride to trouble myself about
people, who don't trouble themselves about
ºy
e
lºne


THE MUMMY. 155
Clara went on.—“We are all coming up to
London, to be present at a grand triumph the
Queen is going to give him ; and thinking it
a pity there should be a misunderstand-
ing—”
“Ah what's that, child P” exclaimed Mr.
Montagu, laying down a problem which he
had been studying ever since she began.—
“Read that again, Clara.”
“And thinking it a pity there should be a
misunderstanding any longer existing between
you and me, we being both fast approaching to
the grave, I intend, with your and Mrs. Mon-
**
tagu's permission
“Mrs. Montagu's permission ſ” cried the
delighted Mrs. Montagu ; “are you quite sure
he says that, Clara P" and she pressed over her
daughter's shoulder to ascertain the joyful fact.
“Well, well, I do declare he really does says
so. Look, my dear, there it is, ‘Mrs. Mon-
tagu's permission.” He never called me Mrs.
Montagu before. God bless him a nice old
gentleman I am sure I shall be very glad to
see him and his brave son, too. Only think,


156 thr. MUMMY.
my dear ! what an honour it is to have a hero
in one's family Read on, Clara : I feel quite
interested to know all the particulars of my me-
phew's victory. You know, he is my nephew,
Mr. Montagu, as well as yours, as I am your
wife, and he is your own brother's son ; so,
read on, Clara, and let us know all about him.”
Clara obeyed the moment her mother gave
her an opportunity. “I intend, with your and
Mrs. Montagu's permission, to take the oppor-
tunity of visiting you. I remain, with kind re-
membrances to Mrs. Montagu and my niece,
to whom I long to be introduced, your affec-
tionate brother,
“AMB Rose MonTAGU.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Montagu, “I shall
be very glad to see him ; I always loved my
brother, and I was quite sorry when we were
not friends.”
“Here is a postscript,” resumed Clara, and
she read:
“I quite forgot to inform you, that the Queen
has conferred a title upon my son, and that


THE MUMMY. 157
I shall have to present him to you as Lord Ed-
mund.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” exclaimed the
gratified uncle.
“And so am I,” reiterated his wife. “My
nephew, Lord Edmund Montagu. I wonder
when they will be here: I must set about mak-
ing preparations for them immediately. Strike
the kitchen automaton, Clara, to summon all
the domestic assistants together, that I may
give my orders. Dear me ! what a bustle I
am in.”
In one corner of the room stood a kind of or-
gan, by playing certain notes upon which, inti-
mation was given in the lower regions of what
was wanted in the parlour; the organ having
long tubes communicating with the kitchen,
through which the sound was conveyed. Clara
accordingly sat down, and by striking a few
chords, soon assembled all the domestics of her
father.
“I expect company,” said Mrs. Montagu,
with an air of excessive consequence, “My
brother-in-law, Sir Ambrose Montagu, and my


158 The MUMMY.
nephew, Lord Edmund Montagu, are coming
to stay with us during a triumph, with which
her most gracious Majesty the Queen intends
to honour Lord Edmund, my nephew. When
did my brother-in-law, Sir Ambrose, say that
he and my nephew, Lord Edmund, intended
coming, Mr. Montagu P Clara, look at Sir
Ambrose's letter. “I intend,’ says he, ad-
dressing Mr. Montagu, “with your and Mrs.
Montagu's permission, to be with you on
such a day,” but I forget what day he men-
tions.”
“ He does not say which day,” replied
Clara, consulting the letter.
“Well, at any rate, it will be very soon,”
resumed Mrs. Montagu ; “ and we must pre-
pare accordingly. You know, the connexions
of my brother-in-law, Sir Ambrose, are very
high, and I do not doubt but his intimate
friend, the Duke of Cornwall, will call to see
him—nay, perhaps, he may dine at my table
with the two princesses, his daughter and
niece. Indeed there's no knowing, but, per-
haps, even her most gracious Majesty the


THE MUMMY. 159
Queen may condescend to enter my humble
doors. Do you hear, all of you?—you must all
be attentive. You Angelina, as cook, will
have the most upon your hands—remember,
nothing can be too plain for great people. Fri-
cassees and ragouts are only devoured by the
canaille.”
“I am instructed of that, Ma'am,” replied
Angelina, a great, fat, bonny-looking cook,+
“but I flatter myself I know how to concoct
dishes. **
“That is the very thing I want to avoid,”
interrupted her mistress. “It is the fashion
now for great people to have only one dish,
and that as plainly cooked as possible. I have
been told by a friend of mine, who got a peep
at the great dinner the Queen gave the other
day to the foreign ambassadors, that there was
nothing in the world upon the table, but a
huge round of boiled beef, and a great dish of
smoking potatoes, with their jackets on.”
“Well, Ma'am,” returned Angelina, “I
will rally both my physical and mental ener-
gies to afford you all the satisfaction in my


160 THE MU M MY.
power; notwithstanding which, I am free to
confess, that, in my opinion, the gastronomic
science is now cruelly neglected, and that I do
not think the digestive powers of the stomach
can be properly excited from their dormant
state by such unstimulating food as that you
mention. Besides, the muscular force of the
stomach must be strained to decompose such
solid viands, and I should think the diaphragm
seriously injured—”
“You, Alphonso,” continued Mrs. Mon-
tagu, addressing the footman, and cruelly in-
terrupting the learned harangue of the cook,
“must have a new suit of livery. In the mean
time, arrange properly the best drawing-room,
and clean the pictures. There is a fine large
painting of one of the old English artists,
over the door, the colours of which are quite
faded; I am afraid you have used something
improper to clean it.”
“Indeed, Madam,” returned Alphonso, “I
think the fault is in the picture itself. It did
not dry well originally ; I don't think the oil
that was used in its composition had the car-


THE MUMMY. 161
bon and hydrogen mingled in proper propor-
tions. You know, Madam, that oil in general
has an amazing affinity for oxygen, and absorbs
it rapidly; now, though the oil of this picture
has been exposed for years to the action of the
common atmospheric air, yet it has never
thickened properly into a concrete state.”
“Eustace | you, as butler, must take care
not to bring any variety of wines to the table:
nothing is drunk now but port and sherry :
and even they are going out of fashion. Have
plenty of strong ale, however, and porter, for
they are now reckoned the most elegant liquors
for the ladies.”
“I shall do my utmost endeavour to obey
your injunctions, Madam,” said Eustace, bow-
ing respectfully, “but I cannot imagine that
any species of corn, even if it have undergone
the vinous fermentation, can produce a liquid
so agreeable to the palate, as well as conducive
to the sanity of the body, as the juice of the
grape.”
“And you, Evelina and Cecilia,
Mrs. Montagu, addressing her housemaids,
” continued
/


THE MUM MY. 163
sions a free circulation of the aëriform fluid ;
I do not think, however, that it is quite ade-
quate to supply the place of the tubes; as upon
entering the room the other morning, I per-
ceived a strong sensation of azote, and I am
confident that the proportion of nitrogen more
than trebled that of oxygen in the air contain-
ed in the whole apartment.”
“I am sorry for that,” said Mrs. Montagu,
“as it is the best sleeping-room ; however,
as it is too late to change it, we must do the
best we can ; and so go all of you and attend
to my directions, for I should be very sorry to
have my brother-in-law Sir Ambrose, and my
nephew Lord Edmund, put to any inconveni-
ence, during their sojourn in my dwelling; to
say nothing of the great and noble guests who
may perchance also honour the mansion with
their presence.”
Whilst this bustle was taking place in the
house of Mr. Montagu, Edric and his tutor
were on their way to London. It was with in-
finite difficulty, however, the doctor could be
persuaded to set off without alarming the


164 THE MUMMY.
family; for, again and again, he would return
to survey the treasures he was leaving behind,
and the moment Edric thought he had him
safe, he would recollect some indispensable re-
quisite for their journey, and hurry back again
to find it. At last they were fairly started,
and a favourable wind blew them rapidly to-
wards London. Edric had never seen this
vast metropolis, and his astonishment and de-
light, when its magnificent palaces, its superb
streets, its public buildings, its theatres, and its
churches, broke upon him, was quite beyond
description. His transports and exclamations,
indeed, at length became so violent, as quite to
annoy the learned doctor.
“If you feel such rapture at the sight of
London,” said he, peevishly, “I suppose you
will be reluctant to quit it; and I dare say you
already repent having proposed to travel.”
“Oh! what is that?" cried Edric, without
attending to him, as, lost in amazement, he saw
a house in the suburbs gently slide out of its
place, and glide majestically along the road, a
lady at one of the windows kissing her hand to


THE MUMMY. 165
some one in another house as she passed. “Do
my eyes deceive me, or does that house move 2"
“Certainly it does,” replied the doctor.
“Did you never see a moving house before ?
You must have heard of them at any rate,
for nothing can be more common. It certainly is
convenient, when one wants to go into the coun-
try for a few weeks, to be able to take one's house
with one : it saves a great deal of trouble in
packing, and permits one to have all one's little
conveniences about one. You see there are
grooves in the bottom of the houses that just fit
on the iron railways; and as they are propelled
by steam, they slide on without much trouble.
It does not answer, however, with any but
small houses, for large ones can't well be made
compact enough. However, you must postpone -
your admiration of that, as well as of the other
wonders of London, for here we are at Lord
Gustavus's door. What a noble mansion l is
it not ? This street, Edric, is called the Strand,
and is the most fashionable in London; because
it adjoins the Queen's favourite palace at So-
merset House.”


166 THE MUMMY.
“Is that the palace P” said Edric. “It seems
a noble pile of building.”
“The gardens are fine,” replied the doctor;
“but as they are thrown open to the public,
and nothing is paid for admission, it is reckon-
ed vulgar to walk in them. You English do
not like any thing you do not pay for; but
more of this hereafter. We must now prepare
to pay our respects to our noble host.”
Lord Gustavus de Montfort received them
very kindly, but Edric found something in his
voice and manners excessively forbidding. He
had a pompous disagreeable manner of speak-
ing, with a nasal accent so strong, that it was
absolutely torture to Edric, whose sense of
hearing was uncommonly fine, to listen to
him. He had also a conceited dictatorial way of
delivering his opinion, which Edric thought ex-
tremely unpleasant. He generally commenced
his speeches with “Thinking as I think, and
as I am positive every one who hears me must
think, or at least ought to think;” and this
exordium formed an epitome of his character;
as he was firmly persuaded that every one who


THE MUMMY. 167
differed in the slightest degree from his opinion,
was decidedly wrong, whilst the possibility of
his ever being mistaken himself never entered
his imagination. His father had been one of
the counsellors of the late Queen, and his eldest
brother having declined to take the father's
place upon his death, Lord Gustavus had been
appointed to it. Thus he was really a person
of some consequence in the state; and though
his being so was quite a matter of chance,
arising from the circumstances above-mentioned
and the indolence of the Queen, he affected
to regard it as a matter of personal favour to
himself, and endeavoured to persuade his
hearers that the affairs of government could not
possibly go on without him. Knowing his foi-
ble of wishing to be thought of importance in
the realm, and feeling the want of a leader of
rank, some of the discontented spirits of the
kingdom had endeavoured to gain him over to
their party; and though Lord Gustavus was
strictly loyal, and even particularly fond of
talking of her gracious Majesty the Queen,
and boasting of the confidence she placed in


168 THE MUMMY.
him, yet his vanity could not altogether resist
the able attacks made upon it by the rebels.
He wavered, he began to talk of reform, and
to mingle boasts of his popularity amongst the
people, with those he had before indulged in,
of enjoying the favour of his sovereign. Thus
he hung upon the balance, ready to incline to
either side, according to the circumstances that
time or chance might produce.
“I am extremely happy,” said he, as he ad-
vanced to meet his guests, “that my worthy
and respected friend Father Morris has pro-
cured me the honour of such illustrious visitors.
The holy father has informed me of the sublime
purpose that animates your bosoms and leads
you to traverse realms of air, to explore the
hitherto undiscovered secrets of the grave. His
partiality for me has also led him to imagine that
my humble means may perchance prove condu-
cive to so great an end, and he has requested
me to give you all the assistance in my power to
promote the gigantic objects you have in view.
Thus you may rest assured, no efforts shall be
wanting on my part to fulfil his wishes, and as,


THE MUMMY. 169
though insignificant in myself, I am so happy as
to be honoured by the protection and favour of
her Majesty the Queen, my most gracious sove-
reign; and also as my feeble attempts to promote
the public good have been rewarded by the gra-
titude of the people; it may perchance be in my
power to serve you; and in the mean time I hope
you will do me the honour to partake of such
hospitality as my humble mansion can afford.”
So saying, Lord Gustavus led the way through
a sumptuous suite of rooms, to one where an
elegant cold collation was laid out, of which he
invited his guests to partake. Nothing could be
more splendid than the furniture and embellish-
ments of this apartment. The rooms were hung
with crimson silk, trimmed with gold; valuable
paintings decorated the walls; statues of ines-
timable price filled each corner, and magnificent
mirrors increased tenfold the magic of the scene.
Lord Gustavus secretly enjoyed the astonish-
ment and admiration painted upon the counte-
mances of his guests; and whilst he openly affect-
ed to talk of his “poor house,” and his “humble
attempts to entertain them,” &c. his heart co-
WOL. I. I


170 THE MUMMY.
vertly exalted in the grandeur around him, and
his eyes sparkled with pleasure at the effect he
saw it produced upon the strangers. Nothing
makes one so much disposed to be in a good
humour with the world, as being in a good
humour with oneself; and nothing is so certain
to produce that delightful sensation, as to see
what we possess excite the admiration of others.
Thus, as the flattery conveyed by looks far
outweighs that expressed by words, and as the
looks of Edric and the doctor unequivocally
declared their sentiments, Lord Gustavus was
quite enchanted with his visitors, and spared no
pains to render them equally happy as himself.
He ordered a large apartment to be prepared
for the doctor, that he might make his arrange-
ments for the intended Egyptian expedition
quite at his ease; he commanded his servants to
obey his directions implicitly, and he directed
tradesmen to supply every thing that might be
wanted at his own expense.
Thaving thus given the doctor carte blanche,
he next turned his attention to Edric, and, find-
ing it was his first visit to London, volunteered


THE MUMMY. 171
to show him all the wonders of that immense
metropolis, which then, spreading enormously in
every direction, seemed like the fabled monster
of the Indians, to stretch its enormous arms on
every side and swallow up all the hapless vil-
lages which were so unfortunate as to fall with-
in its reach.
In the mean time, Sir Ambrose had begun to
repent, though secretly, of the unwarrantable
severity with which he had treated his son. It
is a trite though undeniable observation, that we
never know the real value of any possession till
we have lost it; and thus Sir Ambrose, though
he had thought nothing of the respectful and
dutiful attentions of his son, whilst he was in
the habit of constantly receiving them, now felt
their want, and regretted bitterly the ill-timed
harshness that had deprived him of them for
ever. Still, however, he was too obstinate to
own he had been wrong; and though he knew
that by recalling his son he should restore his
lost happiness, he, like many other persons in
similar situations, most magnanimously deter-
mined to persist in being miserable.
I 2


172 THE MUMMY.
The Duke of Cornwall was quite astonished,
and even indignant, at what he termed the in-
consistency of his friend. “How can you be so
weak as still to regret the loss of that peevish
boy f" said he, as, on the second morning after
Edric's departure, he entered the library of Sir
Ambrose, attended by his confessor, Father
Murphy. “Depend upon it, it is bad policy;
for patience robs care of its bitterest sting, as
this holy father says. You often preach that
doctrine to me, don't you, Father Murphy 2"
Father Murphy was an Irishman, and gifted
with a rich brogue, which, aided by his comely
figure, round rosy face, and little laughing black
eyes, gave a peculiar raciness to every thing
he said. He had not long filled the office he
then held, and though he had been recommended
to it, on the death of the duke's late confessor, by
Father Morris, yet no two human beings could
be more different than he and that reverend per-
sonage. Father Murphy, indeed, was a general
favourite, and the whole household of the duke
concurred in thinking him quite a nonpareil of
a priest ; for, as he was not very fond of doing


THE MUMMY. 173
penance himself, so he was not very rigid in im-
posing it upon others, and consequently he and
his penitents were always upon the best terms
imaginable. In short, he seemed especially de-
signed by Nature to be good friends with all the
world; and on his side he certainly did the ut-
most not to thwart the beneficent old lady's kind
intentions.
He now smiled good-humouredly at the
duke's question, and replied, “Och! and is it
me ye're quoting from, yere Grace P And
where's the use of that, pray P when ye know
I'm just here and ready to quote for myself.”
“If all your observations are as good as that
the duke has just repeated,” said Sir Ambrose,
“I don't know any body that might be quoted
from with more advantage.”
“Och! and is it of myself ye're saying
that?” asked Father Murphy, “for if ye are,
ye never made a better spach in all your life;
only there's a little mistake if ye think the ob-
servation ye're talking of came out of my own
head, for it didn't do any such thing.”
“Do not be alarmed,” said Father Morris,


174 THE MUMMY.
who now approached, and who spoke with his
usual satirical sneer: “No one who knows you
will ever suspect you of any thing so atro-
cious.”
“Good-nature and integrity are sometimes
more than equivalent to brilliant talents,” said
Sir Ambrose bitterly.
“True,” rejoined Father Morris, in one of his
softest, most insinuating tones; “but they be-
come inestimable when united, as in the example
before us:” bowing to Father Murphy as he
spoke. Sir Ambrose turned, and looked ear-
nestly at the tall thin figure of the monk as he
stood before him, his arms crossed upon his
breast, and his head, as usual, bent towards the
ground, but he did not speak. A short pause
ensued, which was broken by the duke's suddenly
exclaiming, “Did you not say Dr. Entwerfen
has gone off with Edric P”
“Certainly, I did.”
“Then, depend upon it, the whole was a
planned thing. They have taken some wild
scheme into their heads, and they are gone to
execute it.”


THE MU M MY. 175
“Impossible !” exclaimed Sir Ambrose.
“I see no impossibility in the business,” re-
sumed the duke. “I think the case is clear.
They did not know how to get off decently;
and so Edric pretended to quarrel with you and
me, to give the thing a face.”
“I cannot fancy Edric guilty of such mean-
ness,” cried Sir Ambrose passionately.
“I don't think the matter admits of a single
doubt. But what do you think on the subject,
Father Morris P”
“Men devoted to austere professions like
myself,” replied the priest, without raising his
eyes from the ground, “know but little of what
is passing in the world. Thus, though my
body be no longer shrouded in the gloom of a
cloister, my mind remains still too much ab-
stracted from the busy scenes around me, for
me to be a competent judge of the effect of
human passions.”
“Och, then, ye are very right to say nothin'
about them,” cried Father Murphy; “for
though I’m in a passion every day of my life,
I nevher know what to say when I begin to talk


176 THE MUMMY.
of it. And so I jist think it's the wisest way to
holdth my tongue.”
Neither Sir Ambrose nor the duke made
any reply; and after settling that they should
commence their journey on the following morn-
ing, they separated.


THE MUMMY. 177
CHAPTER VIII.
THE journey of the duke and Sir Ambrose
to London had nothing in it to distinguish it
from hundreds of other journeys, and they did
not meet with a single adventure worthy of
being recorded. -
^ It happened by one of those singular coin-
cidences in real life, which would be called
| improbable in a novel, that Mr. Montagu's
mansion adjoined that of the duke, Mrs.
Montagu having, like most of the parvenu
genus, a most violent penchant for the neigh-
bourhood of the great; perhaps, in the hope
that gentility might be infectious, and that she
might catch a little by being near it. Both
houses were in the Strand, which was, as we
I 5


178 THE MUMMY.
have before stated, in those days the most
fashionable part of London, and both had beau-
tiful gardens shelving down to the Thames.
Mrs. Montagu received her brother-in-law
with all that awkward overstrained civility,
with which persons raised above their original
grade in society, generally endeavour to show
their respect to those whom they consider as
their superiors; whilst Mr. Montagu welcomed
him with warm affection, and presented his
daughter Clara to her uncle with all the fond-
ness of a parent.
Clara Montagu well deserved his partiality,
for she was a charming girl; and her light
fairy form and animated features seemed to
realize all that poets feign of Hebe. Sir Am-
brose was delighted with her, and half his dis-
like of the mother banished, as he contemplated
the budding charms of the daughter. It
was well he had such an antidote, for poor
Mrs. Montagu, in her over-anxiety to render
herself agreeable, contrived to be most exces-
sively annoying to him. Perhaps, indeed, there
are few things more troublesome than this vul-


THE MUMMY. 179
gar attempt at politeness, and the good temper
of the baronet was almost exhausted ere he
retired for the night.
Abelard, who had accompanied his master to
town, and who often officiated as groom of the
chamber, assisted him to undress, and, as usual
with servants in those days, took the liberty of
giving his opinion freely of their hostess. Sir
Ambrose felt no interest in his remarks, but he
did not check them, as he hoped, after he had
exhausted this theme, he might turn the con-
versation upon Edric. The baronet was indeed
excessively anxious to hear some news of his
son, though he was by far too proud to make
any inquiries respecting him.
“So you really think Mrs. Montagu dis-
agreeable, Abelard,” said Sir Ambrose.
“She is a perfect nuisance, your honour,
to all civilized society. Why, I have observed
her all day, and I verily believe she has never
left your honour for ten minutes, nor ever
ceased for more than half an hour at a time,
pressing your honour to eat.”
“True,” said Sir Ambrose, laughing, “one


180 THE MUM MY.
would think she took me for a slave, and want-
ed to feed me up fat before she sent me to
market to be sold.”
“Then she is so curious and inquisitive,”
resumed Abelard. “When she saw me bow to
Master Edric just now, she was quite in a
fever to know who he was; but I would not
satisfy her.”
“ Master Edric ſ” exclaimed the baronet.
“What, then I have you seen my son f"
“Yes, your honour, and it startled me so
that it made me raise the adnatae of my visual
organs like one of the anas genus when the
clouds are charged with electric fluid ; and my
heart leaped from its transverse position on my
diaphragm, and seemed to stick like a great
bone right across my oesophagus.
“How did he look P” asked Sir Ambrose.
“Not that I feel the slightest anxiety respect-
ing him. No-no, his own conduct has quite
precluded that.”
“He was in a balloon, and when he saw
me, he wrote something on a piece of paper


THE MUMMY. 181
with a pencil, and threw it down, desiring me
to give it to your honour.”
“Where is it?” cried Sir Ambrose, endea-
vouring to conceal his anxiety.
Abelard searched his pockets, and opened a
large pocket-book, which he carefully examined,
but in vain. “I am afraid I have lost it, your
honour. No ; here—here it is. Yes, -no. These
are some verses of my own, in the acromo-
nogrammatic style, only every line begins with
the same word with which the last ended, in-
stead of the same letter. Shall I read them
to your honour f"
Sir Ambrose groaned in the spirit, and the
unmerciful Abelard, taking that for a token of
assent, deliberately unfolded the paper, and
read as follows:—
ON LOVE.
Of all the powers in Heaven above,
Above all others, triumphs Love:
Love rules the soul—the heart invades,
Invades the cities and the shades.


182 THE MUMMY.
Shades form no shelter from its power,
Power trembles in his courtly bower.
Bower of beauty—art thou free ?
Free thou art not—nor canst thou be!
Be every other class released,
Released from love, thy woe 's increased;
Increased by all the weight of care,
Care flowing from complete despair.”
“Humph [" said Sir Ambrose.
“I hope your honour is pleased with this
little effusion of my Muse?”
“Oh yes, it is very fine, Abelard.”
“And your honour thinks it well turned,
and well expressed.”
“Excellently only I own I don't under-
stand why despair comes in the last line.”
“Despair—despair: oh! to rhyme with care,
your honour.”
“That reason is unanswerable,” returned
Sir Ambrose, smiling. — “And so you are
quite sure you have lost Edric's note —Not
that it is of the least consequence, as nothing
he could say, can possibly alter my opinion of
his conduct; but, if you had had it—I thought


THE MUMMY. 183
I might as well have read it, to avoid the im-
putation of obstinacy.”
“It is irrevocably gone, your honour.”
“Well then, good night; and, if you should
see Edric again, you may as well tell him the
fate of his note;—for, shamefully as he has be-
haved, I would not give him reason to accuse
me of obstinacy.”
This was the second time the baronet had
made the same observation; and ill-natured
but what do the re-
marks of ill-natured people signify to us P. We
people might have said
hope all our readers will be good-natured ones,
and as they will assuredly put the best possible
construction upon Sir Ambrose's conduct, we
will not be so malicious as to suggest an evil
one.
Edric was exceedingly agitated by his encoun-
ter with Abelard; and, feeling convinced his
father was in town, he determined to delay his
journey no longer, as his dread of meeting him
was excessive. He therefore resolved to seek
his tutor, and, if he found him still inclined
to procrastinate, to set off without him. On


184 THE MUMMY.
reaching the doctor's chamber, however, he
found half his anger converted into laughter
at the ludicrous situation of the poor philoso-
pher, who, surrounded as he was on every side
by a crowd of tradesmen clamorous for orders,
looked something like Mercury encircled by a
tribe of discontented ghosts upon the banks of
the Styx.
“Yes, yes, Mr. Jones,” said he: “I see you
understand me. The coats are to be those woven
in machines, where the wool is stripped off the
sheep's back by one end, and the coat comes
out completely made, in the newest fashion, at
the other.”
“Very well, Sir,” said Mr. Jones, wagging
his ears in token of assent; for in those days of
universal education, even the muscles of the
head were trained to perform functions which
in former days it was only supposed possible
they might attain: “You are quite right, Sir,
no person of fashion ever wears any thing else
now.”
“Oh, Edric " cried the doctor, “I shall be


THE MUMMY. 185
ready to attend to you directly;—and so, Mrs.
Celestina, you must make the soup, if you
please, water-proof; and you, Mr. Crispin,
must have the boots ready to dissolve, at a
moment's notice. Oh, dear! oh, dear, what a
perplexity I am in, my head is going just
like a steam-boat, at the rate of sixty miles
an hour !”
“Upon my word, doctor,” said Edric, look-
ing round in dismay, “if we are to take half
the things assembled here, I do not know
where we shall find a balloon large enough
and strong enough even to raise us from the
ground.”
“I will show you one,”
replied the doctor,
mysteriously; and solemnly drawing forth
from his bosom a key, which appeared to have
been suspended by a ribbon from his neck,
he slowly opened, with great difficulty, a secret
drawer in his escritoire, and produced from its
inmost recesses a small bottle of Indian rubber.
The gravity of the doctor's manner, and the
length of time that he had employed in this


186 THE MU M MY.
operation, had excited Edric's curiosity, and he
burst into a violent and uncontrollable fit of
laughter when he saw the result.
“What is the matter, Edric 2" asked the
doctor, with the utmost solemnity; “what can
be the occasion of this unceremonious and ill-
timed levity ?”
“Parturient mountains, my dear doctor,”
replied Edric, still laughing, “you know the
rest.”
“Ridicule, Edric," said the doctor gravely,
“is by no means the test of truth. Fools often,
—nay, generally, laugh at what they cannot un-
derstand, and when I shall have explained the
motives of my conduct, I trust you will feel
ashamed of your present weak and unseason-
able mirth.”
“Caoutchouc, Edric, is a substance capable
of astonishing dilation and contraction ; whilst
the peculiar elasticity and tenacity of its fibres
give it a strength and solidity, very rare in bo-
dies when in a state of extreme tension. There
are several very extraordinary phenomena re-
lating to elastic bodies, which I am happy to


THE MUMMY. 187
have an apposite opportunity of explaining to
you.” (Edric yawned.) “You know, elastic
substances have the power of wonderfully re-
sisting a force which would annihilate solids,
apparently infinitely stronger than themselves,
as a feather-bed will repulse a cannon-ball that
would penetrate with ease through a thick
table. Now the reason for this is clear: the
elastic body has the power of summoning
all its forces to its assistance, for the effect of
a blow may be traced even to its remotest
extremity; whereas the solid substance can
only oppose its enemy by the mere resistance
of the identical part struck.”
“Certainly,” said Edric, striving to sup-
press a yawn; “nothing can be more clear.”
“Nothing,” resumed the doctor. “I was
sure you would admire the force of my rea-
soning; indeed, I see the excess of your ad-
miration in the involuntary yawns in which
you have been indulging. On some occasions,
Edric, man shakes off the artificial restraints
of society, and breaks forth into the full free-
dom of honest and unsophisticated nature :-


188 THE MUMMY.
thus it was with you, Edric. In ancient times,
the extension of the jaws was held synonimous
with the extension of the understanding, and
the opening of the mouth and eyes was consi-
dered as the greatest possible sign of pleasure
that could be given. In the works of an ancient
author, whose poetry was doubtless once esteem-
ed very fine, since it is now quite unintelligible,
we find the following passage:—
‘And Hodge stood lost in wide-mouth'd speculation.”
Again,
“His eyes and mouth the hero open'd wide.”
—And divers others, which **
“We will leave till a more convenient op-
portunity, if you please,” said Edric, inter-
rupting him. “At present, do favour me for
five minutes with your attention. We can-
not take all these things.”
“Why not f" asked the doctor, gazing at his
pupil with surprise; “for my part, I do not
think we can dispense with a single article.”


THE MUMMY. 189
“These cloaks,” said Edric, “ and those
hampers, for instance, cannot be of the slightest
use.”
“I beg your pardon,” returned the doctor.
“The cloaks are of asbestos, and will be neces-
sary to protect us from ignition, if we should
encounter any electric matter in the clouds;
and the hampers are filled with elastic plugs
for our ears and noses, and tubes and barrels
of common air, for us to breathe when we get
beyond the atmosphere of the earth.”
“But what occasion shall we have to go be-
yond it?”
“How can we do otherwise 2 Surely you
don’t mean to travel the whole distance in the
balloon P I thought, of course, you would adopt
the present fashionable mode of travelling, and
after mounting the seventeen miles or there-
abouts, which is necessary to get clear of the
mundane attraction, to wait there till the turn-
ing of the globe should bring Egypt directly
under our feet.”
“But it is not in the same latitude.”


190 THE MUMMY.
“True; I did not think of that Well,
then,” sighing deeply, “I suppose we must do
without the hamper ?”
“Certainly ; and without those boxes and
bottles too, I hope.”
“Oh no we can't do without those. Those
bottles contain my magic elixir, that cures all
diseases merely by the smell:—a new idea that.
You know it has been long discovered, that
the whole materia medica might be carried
in a ring, and that all the instruments of sur-
gery might be compressed into a walking-stick.
But the idea of sniffing health in a pinch of
snuff is, I flatter myself, exclusively my own.”
“Very likely; but we cannot be encumbered
with your panaçea in our ačrial tour.”
“Then that box contains my portable gal-
vanic battery; that, my apparatus for making
and collecting the inflammable air; and that,
my machine for producing and concentrating
the quicksilver vapour, which is to serve as the
propelling power to urge us onwards, in the
place of steam ; and these bladders are filled


THE MUMMY. 191
with laughing gas, for the sole purpose of
keeping up our spirits.”
“The three first will be useful,” said Edric ;
“but I will positively have no more".
“Adieu ! adieu ! then, my precious trea-
sures 1’’ exclaimed the doctor, looking sorrow-
fully around: “Dear offspring of my cares
children of my mind and must I leave you
to some rude hand, which, heedless of your ines-
timable worth, may scatter your beauties to the
winds P Alas! alas !”
“Breakfast is ready, and my lord is waiting !”
interrupted the shrill voice of one of Lord Gus-
tavus's servants.
“Then we must go!” said the doctor; and
the rest of his pathetic lamentation remained
for ever buried in his own bosom.
Lord Gustavus was already seated when they
entered the room, with two gentlemen, whom
he introduced to our travellers as Lord Noodle
and Lord Doodle. These noble lords were
both counsellors of state as well as their illus-
trious host, and had attained that high honour


192 THE MUMMY.
in exactly the same way, viz. they had both
succeeded their respective fathers. It is not
easy to be very diffuse in their description, as
they were members of that honourable and
numerous fraternity, who never take the trou-
ble of judging for themselves, but content-
edly swim with the stream, whichever way
it may flow, and have nothing about them to
distinguish them in the slightest degree from
the crowd. Lord Gustavus was at present their
leading star, and they might very appropriately
be termed his satellites. Thus, when any new
idea was started, they cautiously refrained
from giving an opinion till they found what
he thought of it:—they would then look wise,
shake their heads, and say, “Exactly so!”
“Certainly ” “Nobody can doubt it!” or some
of those other convenient ripieno phrases, which
fill up so agreeably the pauses in the conversa-
tion, without requiring any troublesome exer-
tion of the mental powers of either the hearer or
the speaker. These gentlemen had now visited
Lord Gustavus, for the purpose of accompany-
ing him and Edric to the Queen's levee, and as


THE MUMMY. 193
soon as they had taken breakfast, the whole
party, with the exception of Dr. Entwerfen,
proceeded to court.
When arrived there, however, they found
the Queen had not yet risen. “Her Majesty
is late this morning,” observed Lord Mays-
worth, a gentleman loaded with orders and
decorations, 'addressing Lord Gustavus :-
“I am not surprised,” said his lordship,
“for her most gracious Majesty told me the
other day, that she has slept badly for some
time.”
“Which, of course, caused you great grief?”
asked Dr. Hardman, a little, satirical-looking
gentleman in a bob-wig.
“Thinking as I think,” said Lord Gustavus
gravely, “ and as I am sure every one here
must think, or at least ought to think, her Ma-
jesty's want of sleep is a circumstance of very
serious importance.”
“Oh very !” exclaimed Lord Noodle,
shaking his head. “Most assuredly ſ” cried
Lord Doodle, shaking his.
“Why P” demanded the doctor; “ of
what possible consequence can it be to her
WOL. I. K


194 The MUMMY.
subjects, whether her Majesty sleeps soundly
or has the night-mare P”
“Of the greatest consequence,” replied Lord
Gustavus solemnly.
“Nothing can be greater!” echoed his sa-
tellites.
“Well" observed Lord Maysworth, “for
my part, I am such a traitor as to think we
might exist, even if the Queen did not sleep
at all.”
“Or if she slept for ever,” rejoined the doc-
tor significantly.
“Oh, fiel” cried Lord Gustavus: “what
J would become of us, if the great sun of the
political hemisphere were to set !”
“We must watch the rising of another, I
suppose,” said Lord Maysworth.”
“Yes,” continued Dr. Hardman : “and then
the energies of the people would be roused.
They want awakening from their present slum-
ber—they have slept too long under the para-
lyzing effects of tyranny. The government
wants reform; corruption has eaten into its
root, and it must be eradicated ere England
can be free, or its people happy. Would to


THE MUMMY. 195
Heaven I might live to aid in the glorious strug-
gle; that I might see the people assert their
rights, and the fiend, Despotism, sink beneath
their blows.”
“I have ever admired,” said Lord Mays-
worth, “the high integrity and fine princi-
ples of the worthy doctor, which have not
only obtained for him the applause of Eng-
land, but the admiration of Europe. The
courage, wisdom, and purity of his mind
cannot be too highly extolled; and all who
know him concur in calling him the firm and
devoted friend of mankind. I also have been
an humble supporter of plans of economy and
retrenchment; and it was I who had the honour
of suggesting to the council the other day, that
an humble petition should be presented to her
Majesty, requesting her respectfully to order
a diminution of the lights in her saloon,
proving incontestably, that there were, at least,
six more than were absolutely necessary.”
“Thinking as I think, and as I am sure
every one here must think,” began Lord Gus-
tavus, but 'ere he had time to finish his
exordium, the folding doors at the back of
K 2


196 THE MUMMY.
the audience chamber were thrown open, and
the Queen appeared, sitting upon a gorgeous
throne, and surrounded by the officers of her
household all splendidly attired.
The usual ceremonies then took place:—
Claudia smiled graciously on Edric, as he
kissed her hand, and inquired when he in-
tended to depart. Edric informed her on the
morrow ; when, condescending to express re-
gret, and desiring to see him on his return,
she wished him an agreeable voyage, and dis-
missed him.
During their ride home, Lord Gustavus
could talk of nothing but the graciousness
of the Queen, upon which he was still ex-
patiating, when the balloon stopped ; and
Edric, who, though he felt grateful for her
kindness, was annoyed by hearing so much said
of it, hastened to leave him as soon as he
possibly could with propriety. On his road
to his own apartment, however, he heard a
strange and fearful noise, like the voice of
some one screaming in an agony of rage and
pain, which seemed to proceed from the cham-
ber appropriated to his learned tutor; and he


THE MUMMY. 197
was going there to ascertain the cause, when
the agitated form of the unfortunate philoso-
pher burst upon him.
Sad, indeed, was the condition in which this
splendid ornament of the twenty-second century
now presented himself before the eyes of his
astonished pupil. His face glowed like fire;
his hat was off, and water streamed from every
part of his body till he looked like the effigy of a
water deity in a fountain.
“Here is management 1” cried he, as soon as
his rage permitted him to speak; “here is
treatment for one devoted to the service of man-
kind . But I will be revenged, and centuries
yet to come, shall tremble at my wrath.”
In this manner he continued, and being too
much occupied in these awful denunciations, to
be able to give any information as to what cala-
mity had brought him into this unseemly plight,
it will be necessary to go back a little to explain
it for him.
When Dr. Entwerfen left the breakfast-room
of Lord Gustavus, which he did not do till a
considerable time after the rest of the party had
quitted it, he was so absorbed in meditation


198 THE MUMMY.
f
that he did not know exactly which way he was
going; and, happening unfortunately to turn to
the right when he should have gone to the left,
to his infinite surprise he found himself in the
kitchen, instead of his own study.
Absent as the doctor was, however, his atten-
tion was soon roused by the scene before him.
Being, like many of his learned brotherhood,
somewhat of a gourmand, his indignation was
violently excited by finding the cook comfort-
ably asleep on a sofa on one side of the room,
whilst the meat intended for dinner, a meal it
was then the fashion to take about noon, was
as comfortably resting itself from its toils on the
other. The chemical substitute for fire, which
ought to have cooked it, having gone out, and
the cook's nap precluding all reasonable expec-
tation of its re-illumination, the doctor's wrath
was kindled, though the fire was not, and in a
violent rage he seized the gentle Celestina's
shoulder, and shook her till she woke.
“Where am I ?” exclaimed she, opening her
eyes.
“Any where but where you ought to be,”
cried the doctor, in a fury. “Look, hussy


200 THE MUMMY.
patience In fact, his troubles were scarcely
worth mentioning, for he was never cursed with
learned servants"
saying this the doctor retired, lamenting his
hard fate in not having been born in those hal-
cyon days when cooks drew nothing but their
poultry; whilst the gentle Celestina's breast
panted with indignation at his complaint. An
opportunity soon offered for revenge; and see-
ing the doctor's steam valet ready to be carried
to its master's chamber, she treacherously ap-
plied a double portion of caloric: in consequence
of which, the machine burst whilst in the act
of brushing the doctor's coat collar, and by dis-
charging the whole of the scalding water con-
tained in its cauldron upon him, reduced him
to the melancholy state we have already men-
tioned.
The fear of the ridicule attached to this inci-
dent, in a great measure reconciled the doctor to
Edric's project of a speedy departure, and the
following morning they bade adieu to Lord
Gustavus, and, stepping into their balloon, sail-
ed for Egypt.


THE MUMMY. 301
CHAPTER IX.
No event of any importance occurred to our
travellers in the course of their aerial voyage.
They were too well provided with all kinds of
necessaries to have any occasion to rest by the
way, and in an incredibly short space of time
they were hovering over Egypt. Different,
however, oh how different from the Egypt of
the nineteenth century, was the fertile country
which now lay like a map beneath their feet.
Improvement had turned her gigantic steps to-
wards its once desert plains; Commerce had
waved her magic wand; and towns and cities,
manufactories and canals, spread in all directions.
No more, did the Nile overflow its banks: a
thousand channels were cut to receive its waters.
No longer did the moving sands of the Desert
K 5


202 THE MUMMY.
rise in mighty waves, threatening to over-
whelm the way-worn traveller: macadamized
turnpike roads supplied their place, over which
post-chaises, with anti-attritioned wheels, bowl-
ed at the rate of fifteen miles an hour. Steam-
boats glided down the canals, and furnaces
raised their smoky heads amidst groves of palm-
trees; whilst iron railways intersected orange
groves, and plantations of dates and pome-
granates might be seen bordering excavations
intended for coal pits. Colonies of English and
Americans peopled the country, and produced
a population that swarmed like bees over the
land, and surpassed in numbers even the won-
drous throngs of the ancient Mizraim race;
whilst industry and science changed desola-
tion into plenty, and had converted barren
plains into fertile kingdoms. -
Amidst all these revolutions, however, the
Pyramids still raised their gigantic forms, tow-
ering to the sky; unchanged, unchangeable,
grand, simple, and immoveable, fit symbols of
that majestic nature they were intended to
represent, and seeming to look down with
contempt upon the ephemeral structures with


THE MUMMY. 203
which they were surrounded; as though they
would have said, had utterance been permit-
ted to them—“Avaunt, ye nothings of the
day. Respect our dignity and sink into your
original obscurity; for know, that we alone are
monarchs of the plains.” Indestructible, how-
ever, as they had proved themselves, even their
granite sides had not been able entirely to
resist the corroding influence of the smoke with
which they were now surrounded, and a slight
crumbling announced the first outward symp-
tom of decay. Still, however, though black-
ened and disfigured, they shone stupendous
monuments of former greatness; and Edric and
his tutor gazed upon them with an awe that
for some moments deprived them of utterance.
The doctor, however, who was too fond of
reasoning ever long to remain willingly silent,
after surveying them a few minutes, broke forth
as follows:—“What noble piles | What ma-
jesty and grandeur they display in their forma-
tion, and yet what dignified simplicity Can
the imagination of man conceive any thing more
sublime than the thought that they have stood
thus frowning in awful magnificence, perhaps


204 THE MUMMY.
since the very creation of the world, without
equals, without even competitors, mocking the
feeble efforts of man to divine their origin, and
seeing generation after generation pass away,
whilst they still remain immutable, and involved
in the same deep and unfathomable mystery as
at first.”
“It is very strange,” observed Edric, “that,
in this age of speculation and discovery, nothing
certain should be known concerning them.”
“It is,” returned the doctor; “but the thick
mysterious veil that has rested upon them for so
many ages, seems not intended to be removed by
mortal hands. They remind one of the sublime
inscription upon the temple of the goddess Isis,
at Sais :—‘ I am whatever was, whatever is, and
whatever shall be; but no mortal has, as yet,
presumed to raise the veil that covers me.”
“Your quotation is apt, doctor,” resumed Ed-
ric, “for both relate to Nature. Indeed, Nature
appears to be the deity which the ancient Egyp-
tians worshipped, under all the various forms in
which she presents herself; and their strange and
animal deities were but reverenced as her sym-
bols. It was Nature whom they worshipped


THE MUMMY. 205
as Isis; it was Nature that was typified
in the Pyramids; and the good taste of the
Egyptians made them prefer the simple, the
majestic, and the sublime, in those works which
they destined to last for ages. Formerly, from
the immensity of their population, and high
state of their civilization, labour was so divided,
and consequently so lightened, that multitudes
were enabled to exist exempt from toil. These
persons, devoting themselves to study, became
initiati; and either enrolled themselves amongst
the priesthood, or passed their lives in making
themselves masters of the most abstract sciences.
The consequences were natural: they followed
up the ramifications of creation to their origi-
mal source; they penetrated into the most pro-
found secrets of Nature, and traced all her won-
ders in her works : aware, however, of the
taste of the vulgar for any thing above their
comprehension, and of the natural craving of the
human mind for mystery, they wrapped the dis-
coveries they had made in a deep and impene-
trable veil, and concealed awful and sublime
significations under the meanest and most dis-
gusting images.”


206 THE MU M MY.
“You are right,” said the doctor, “in your
observations upon the religion of the ancient
Egyptians; but it does not appear to me that
the Pyramids were erected by them.”
“What! I suppose you draw your conclusions
from the want of hieroglyphics in their princi-
pal chambers; and, from what Herodotus says
of their having been erected by a shepherd,
you think they were the work of the Pallic
race.”
“No ; though I allow much may be said in
favour of that hypothesis, particularly as He-
rodotus says the kings under whom they were
erected, ordered all the Egyptian temples to
be closed, which we know the shepherd or
Pallic sovereign did; but I cannot imagine
that an ignorant, Goth-like race of shepherds,
men accustomed to live in tents or in the open
air, and possessing no talents but for war, were
capable of constructing such immense piles.
No, no, the Pyramids required gigantic concep-
tions, highly cultivated minds, and unwearied
perseverance; all qualities quite incompatible
with a warlike wandering race. No, I do not.
think the Palli were capable of imagining such


THE MUMMY. 207
structures, much less of constructing them. I
think they were the work of evil spirits.”
“Evil spirits ſ” exclaimed Edric.
“Yes,” returned the doctor. “We are told
that the evil spirits, after their expulsion from
Paradise, were under the command of the Sul-
tan, or Soliman Giam ben Giam, as he is called
by Arabic writers, but who is supposed to have
been the same as Cheops; and that he employed
them in this vast work.”
“I do not know by what analysis etymolo-
gists can draw the name of Cheops from that
of Giam ben Giam: but, supposing the fact to
be correct, that they designated the same per-
son, I think it only proves more strongly my
hypothesis; for the Palli came from Mount
Caucasus, where the evil spirits were said to
have been enchained, and if Cheops was a Pallic
king, it is possible the Egyptians might poeti-
cally call their conquerors evil spirits.”
“That is a good idea, Edric; though I do
not think it by any means certain that Cheops
was a Pallic king. However, we shall soon be
able to see his tomb, and judge for ourselves;
for we have now approached near enough to the


208 THE MUMMY.
Pyramids to descend. Foh what a smoke and
what a noise ! It is enough to rouse the mum-
mies from their slumbers before their appointed
time, and without the aid of galvanism. Have
you opened the valves, Edric P Oh yes! I
perceive we are getting lower; we will not
lose a moment before we visit the Pyramid.
But what a crowd of brutes are assembled to
witness our arrival they stare as though they
had never seen a balloon before. Egypt is cer-
tainly a fine country, but the inhabitants are a
century behind us in civilization.”
An immense crowd had gathered together to
witness the descent of our travellers, and they
did indeed stand staring, lost in stupid astonish-
ment at the strange sight that presented itself;
for though the Egyptian people had occasion-
ally seen balloons, they had never before be-
held one made of Indian rubber. The odd
figure of the doctor, too, amused them exceed-
ingly, as he sat wrapt up in the most dignified
manner in an asbestos cloak, his bob-wig pushed
a little on one side from the heat of the weather
and the warmth of his argument; his round,
red, oily face attempting to look solemn, and his


T H E MUMMY. 209
little, fat, punchy figure trying to assume an
air of majesty. The Egyptians were amaz-
ingly struck with this apparition, and being,
like most colonists, somewhat conceited and not
very ceremonious in their manners, they looked
at him a few minutes in silence, and then burst
into immoderate fits of laughter.
The doctor was exceedingly indignant at this
rude reception, and rising, shook his fist at
them in anger; a manoeuvre, however, that only
redoubled the mirth of the unpolished Egyp-
tians, whose peals of laughter now became so
tremendous, that they actually shook the skies,
and occasioned a most unpleasant vibration in
the balloon. Edric, who was almost as much
annoyed as the doctor, had yet sufficient self-
command to continue calmly making prepara-
tions for his descent; and without taking the
least notice of the crowd below, he screwed the
top upon the propelling vapour-bottle; he let the
inflammable air escape from the balloon, which
rapidly collapsed as they approached the earth,
and throwing out their patent spring grappling-
irons, they caught one of the lower stones
of the Great Pyramid, and in a few moments


210 THE MUMMY.
the car in which our travellers were sitting,
was safely moored at a convenient distance
from the earth for them to alight. Edric
now unloosed the descending ladder, and re-
verentially assisted the doctor, who was en-
cumbered with his long cloak, to reach terra
firma in safety,+amidst the bustle and excla-
mations of the crowd, who thronged round
them expressing their wonder and astonish-
ment audibly, in broad English.
“where the deuce did this spring from ?”
cried one; “the car would load a waggon "
“And what is gone with the balloon P” said
another; “it is clean vanished ſ”
“Well, I never saw such a thing in all my
life before ſ” exclaimed a third; “I think they
must be come from the moon.”
“ Hush hush,” cried an old gentleman
bustling amongst them, who seemed as one
having authority. “What's the matter P what's
the matter?”
“We are strangers, Sir,” said Edric, ad-
vancing and addressing him : “we come
here to see the wonders of your country, and


THE MUMMY. 211
we wish to explore the Pyramids—but the re-
ºx
ception we have met with
“Say no more—say no more ſ” interrupted
the worthy justice, for such he was. “Get
about your business, you rapscallions, or I'll
read the riot act ' Here, Gregory, call out the
posse comitatus, and set a guard of constables
to keep watch over these gentlemen's balloon,
whilst they go to explore the Pyramids. Eh!
but where is the balloon P I don’t see it. I
hope neither of the gentlemen has put it in
his pocket !” laughing at his own wit.
“No, Sir,” returned Edric, smiling, “though
it is a feat which might easily be accomplished,
for that is our balloon,” pointing to the caout-
chouc bottle, now shrunk to its original dimen-
sions.
“ Very strange, that l” said the Justice;
“Very curious, very curious indeed Well,
gentlemen, if you wish to proceed immediately,
you'll want a guide of course. These cottages
at the foot of the Pyramids are all inhabited
by guides, who get their living by showing
the sights. They are sad rogues, most of


212 THE MUMMY.
them, but I can recommend you to one who is
a very honest man. Here, Samuel,” continued
he, knocking against a small door, “Samuel !
I say ”
Samuel made his appearance, in the guise of
a tall, raw-boned, stupid-looking fellow, with a
pair of immensely broad stooping shoulders,
which looked as though he could have relieved
Atlas occasionally of his burthen, without much
trouble to himself. Coming forth from his hut
in an awkward shambling pace, he scratched his
head, and demanded what his honour pleased
to Want.
“You must show these gentlemen the Py-
ramids,” said the Justice.
“Ay, that I will with pleasure " returned
Samuel; “I’ve got my living by showing them
these fifty years, man and boy ; and I know
every crink and cranny of them, though I’m
old now and somewhat lame. So walk this way,
gentlemen.”
“We are very much obliged to you, Sir,”
said the doctor, bowing to the Justice; who was
in fact one of those good-natured, busy, bust-
ling men, who are always better pleased to trans-


THE MUMMY. 213
act any other person's business than their own ;
and are never so happy as when a new arrival
gives them an opportunity of showing off their
consequence. Indeed, there is a pleasure in
showing wonders to a stranger, that only those
who have little else to occupy their minds can
properly estimate: a man of this kind feels his
self-love gratified by the superiority his local
knowledge gives him over a stranger; and, as it
is, perhaps, the only chance he ever can have of
showing superiority, they must be unreasonable
who blame him for making the most of it. Jus-
tice Freemantle was accordingly exceedingly
delighted with travellers who seemed disposed
to submit implicitly to his dictation; and he
returned a most gracious reply to the doctor's
thanks.
“Don’t mention it ! don't mention it, my dear
Sir ſ” said he “I am never so happy as when I
can make myself useful. Is there any thing else
I can do for you ? You may command me, I
assure you; and you may depend upon it, no
injury shall be done to your luggage, whilst you
are away.”
“What a very civil, obliging, good-natured


214 THE MUMMY.
old gentleman,” said the doctor, as they walk-
ed towards the entrance of the Pyramids ;
“I declare he almost reconciles me to the coun-
try, though, I own, I thought at first the peo-
ple were the greatest brutes I had ever met
with.”
“Which Pyramid does your honour wish to
see ?” asked the guide.
“That which contains the tomb of Cheops,
man ſ” cried the doctor solemnly; who, encum-
bered with his long cloak, and loaded with his
walking-stick and galvanic battery, had some
difficulty in getting on.
“Won't your honour let me carry that pole
and that bag P’’ said the man; “ you'd get on a
surprising deal better, if you would.”
122
“Avaunt, wretch !” exclaimed the doctor,
“nor offer to touch with thy profane fingers the
immortal instruments of science.”
The man stared, but fell back, and the whole
party walked on in perfect silence.
In the mean time, Edric had walked on before
his companions, completely lost in meditation. A
crowd of conflicting thoughts rushed through his
mind; and now, when he found himself at the


THE MUMMY. 215
very goal of his wishes, the daring nature of the
purpose he had so long entertained, seemed to
strike him for the first time, and he trembled at
the consequences that might attend the com-
pletion of his desires. With his arms fold-
ed on his breast, he stood gazing on the Pyra-
mids, whilst his ideas wandered uncontrolled
through the boundless regions of space : “And
what am I,” thought he, “weak, feeble worm
that I am who dare seek to penetrate into the
awful secrets of my Creator P Why should I
wish to restore animation to a body now resting
in the quiet of the tomb P What right have I
to renew the struggles, the pains, the cares, and
the anxieties of mortal life? How can I tell
the fearful effects that may be produced by the
gratification of my unearthly longing 2 May I
not revive a creature whose wickedness may in-
volve mankind in misery P And what if my
experiment should fail, and if the moment when
I expect my rash wishes to be accomplished,
the hand of Almighty vengeance should strike
me to the earth, and heap molten fire on my
brain to punish my presumptionſ”
The sound of human voices, as the doctor and


216 THE MUMMY .
the guide approached, grated harshly on
the nerves of Edric, already overstrained by
the awful nature of the thoughts in which he
had been indulging, and he turned away invo-
luntarily, to escape the interruption he dreaded,
quite forgetting for the moment from whom the
sounds most probably proceeded.
“Lord have mercy on us!” said the guide ;
“I declare that gentleman looks as if he were
beside himself and see there ! if he hasn’t
walked right by the entrance to the Pyramid
without seeing it ! Sir! Sir "halloed he.
Excessively annoyed, but recalled to his re-
collection by these shouts, Edric returned.
“These Pyramids are wonderful piles,” said
the doctor, as he stumbled forward to meet
him. “I really had no adequate conception
of the enormity of their size. They did not
even look half so large at a distance as they
do now.”
“Immense masses seldom do,” replied
Edric; compelling himself with difficulty to
speak.
“True,” returned the doctor; “the simpli-
city and uniformity of their figures deceive the


THE MUMMY. 217
eyes, and it is only when we approach them
that we feel their stupendous magnitude and
our own insignificance!”
“They give an amazing idea of the grandeur
of the ancient kings of Egypt,” said Edric,
without exactly knowing what he was saying.
“Their palaces must have been superb, if they
had such mausoleums.”
“How absurdly you reason, Edric ſ” replied
the doctor peevishly ; for, being annoyed with
his burthens and his cloak, he was not in a hu-
mour to bear contradiction. “I thought we
had settled that question before. In the first
place, I think it very doubtful whether the
Egyptians had any thing to do with the build-
ing of these monuments; and if they had, I
think they were meant for temples, not mauso-
leums; and in the next place, even if they
were intended for tombs, their greatness af-
fords no argument for the splendour of the sur-
rounding palaces; as the Egyptians were cele-
brated for the superiority of their burying-
places, and for the immense sums they expended
upon them. Indeed, you know, ancient writers
say they went so far as to call the houses of the
WOL. I. L


218 THE MUMMY.
living only inns, whilst they considered tombs
as everlasting habitations;–a circumstance, by
the way, that strongly corroborates my hypo-
thesis, at least as far as their opinions go; as
it seems to imply that both soul and body were
designed to remain there.”
They had now entered the Pyramid, and
were proceeding with infinite difficulty along a
low, dark, narrow passage: “Observe, Edric,”
said the doctor, “how the difficulty and ob-
scurity of these winding passages confirm my
opinion: you know, the religion of the ancient
Egyptians, like that of the ancient Hindoos,
was one of penances and personal privations;
and, granting that to be the case, what can be
more simple, than that the passages the initiati
had to traverse before they reached the adytum,
should be painful and difficult of access. Be-
sides this, as you know, the bones of a bull,
no doubt those of the god Apis, were found
in a sarcophagus in the second Pyramid, it
seems probable that it was sacred to his wor-
ship ; and its vicinity to the Nile, which was
indispensable to the temples of Apis, as, when
it was time for him to die, he was drowned in


THE MUMMY. 219
its waters, confirms the fact. Indeed, I am only
surprised that any human being, possessing a
grain of common sense, can entertain a single
doubt upon the subject.”
“How do you account for the tomb we are
about to visit being placed in the Pyramid, if
you think they were only designed for a tem-
ple f" asked Edric.
“The question is futile,” said the doctor.
“A strange fancy prevailed in former times,
that burying the dead in consecrated places,
particularly in temples intended for divine
worship, would scare away the evil spirits,
and the practice actually prevailed in Eng-
land even as lately as the nineteenth or twen-
tienth century. Indeed, it was not till after
the country had been almost depopulated by
the dreadfully infectious disease that prevail-
ed about two hundred years ago, that a
law was passed to prevent the interment of
the dead in London, and that those previous-
ly buried in and near the churches there,
were exhumed and placed in cemeteries beyond
the walls.” -
Edric did not reply, for in fact his ideas were
L 2


TH F MUMMY. 221
mortals that had dared to invade their re-
cesses, whilst the deep pit beneath their feet
seemed to yawn wide to engulf them in its
abyss. Edric's heart beat thick: it throbbed
till he even fancied its pulsations audible; and
a strange, mysterious thrilling of anxiety, min-
gled with a wild, undefinable delight, ran
through his frame. A few short hours, and his
wishes would be gratified, or set at rest for
ever. The doctor and the guide had already
begun to descend, and their figures seemed
changed and unearthly as the gleams of the
torches fell upon them. Edric gazed for a
moment, and then followed with feelings work-
ed up almost to frenzy by the over-excitement
of his nerves; whilst the hollow sound that re-
echoed from the walls, as they struck against
them in their descent, thrilled through his
whole frame.
No one spoke ; and after proceeding for some
time along the narrow path, or rather ledge,
formed on the sides of the cavity, which gradu-
ally shelved downwards, the guide suddenly
stopped, and touching a secret spring, a solid
block of granite slowly detached itself from the


222 THE MUMMY.
wall, and, rising majestically like the portcullis
of an ancient fortress, showed the entrance to a
dark and dreary cave. The guide advanced,
followed by our travellers, into a gloomy
vaulted apartment, where long vistas of pon-
derous arches stretched on every side, till
their termination was lost in darkness, and
gave a feeling of immensity and obscurity to
the scene.
“I will wait here,” said the guide; “and
here, if you please, you had better leave your
torches. That avenue will lead you to the
tomb.”
The travellers obeyed; and the guide, plac-
ing himself in a recess in the wall, extin-
guished all the torches except one, which he
shrouded so as to leave the travellers in total
darkness. Nothing could be now more terrific
than their situation: immured in the recesses
of the tomb, involved in darkness, and their
bosoms throbbing with hopes that they scarcely
dared avow even to themselves, with faltering
steps they proceeded slowly along the path
the guide had pointed out, shuddering even
at the hollow echo of their own footsteps,


THE MUMMY. 223
which alone broke the solemn silence that
reigned throughout these fearful regions of
terror and the tomb.
Suddenly, a vivid light flashed upon them,
and, as they advanced, they found it proceeded
from torches placed in the hands of two colos-
sal figures, who, placed in a sitting posture,
seemed guarding an enormous portal, surmount-
ed by the image of a fox, the constant guardian
of an Egyptian tomb. The immense dimen-
sions and air of grandeur and repose about these
colossi had something in it very imposing; and
our travellers felt a sensation of awe creep over
them as they gazed upon their calm unmoved
features, so strikingly emblematic of that immu-
table nature which they were doubtless placed
there to typify.
It was with feelings of indescribable solem-
nity, that the doctor and Edric passed through
this majestic portal, and found themselves in an
apartment gloomily illumined by the light shed
faintly from an inner chamber, through pon-
derous brazen gates beautifully wrought. The
light thus feebly emitted, showed that the room
in which they stood, was dedicated to Typhon,


224 THE MUM M Y.
the evil spirit, as his fierce and savage types
covered the walls; and images of his symbols,
the crocodile and the dragon, placed beneath the
shadow of the brazen gates, and dimly seen by
the imperfect light, seemed starting into life,
and grimly to forbid the farther advance of
the intruders. Our travellers shuddered, and
opening with trembling hand the ponderous
gates, they entered the tomb of Cheops.
In the centre of the chamber, stood a superb,
highly ornamented sarcophagus of alabaster,
beautifully wrought; over this hung a lamp
of wondrous workmanship, supplied by a po-
tent mixture, so as to burn for ages unconsum-
ed; thus awfully lighting up with perpetual
flame the solemn mansions of the dead, and
typifying life eternal even in the silent tomb.
Around the room, on marble benches, were ar-
ranged mummies simply dried, apparently those
of slaves; and close to the sarcophagus was
placed one contained in a case, which the doc-
tor approached to examine. This was sup-
posed to be that of Sores, the confidant and
prime-minister of Cheops. The chest that
enclosed the body was splendidly ornamented


THE MUMMY. 225
with embossed gilt leather, whilst the parts
not otherwise covered were stained with red
and green curiously blended, and of a vivid
brightness.
The mighty Phtah, the Jupiter of the Egyp-
tians, spread its widely extended wings over
the head, grasping in his monstrous claws a
ring, the emblem of etermity; whilst below, the
vulture form of Rhea proclaimed the deceased
a votary of that powerful deity; and on the sides
were innumerable hieroglyphics. The doctor
removed the lid, and shuddered as the crimson
tinge of the everlasting lamp fell upon the
hideous and distorted features thus suddenly
exhibited to view. This sepulchral light, in-
deed, added unspeakable horror to the scene,
and its peculiar glare threw such a wild and
demoniac expression on the dark lines and
ghastly lineaments of the mummies, that even
the doctor felt his spirits depressed, and a su-
pernatural dread creep over his mind as he
gazed upon them.
In the mean time, Edric had stood gazing
upon the sarcophagus of Cheops, the sides of
which were beautifully sculptured with groups
L 5


226 THE MUMMY.
of figures, which, from the peculiar light thrown
upon them, seemed to possess all the force and
reality of life. On one side was represented
an armed and youthful warrior bearing off in
his arms a beautiful female, on whom he gazed
with the most passionate fondness. He was
pursued by a crowd of people and soldiers, who
seemed rending the air with vehement exclama-
tions against his violence, and endeavouring in
vain to arrest his progress; whilst in the back-
ground appeared an old man, who was tearing
his hair and wringing his hands in ineffectual
rage against the ravisher.
The other side, presented the same old man
wrestling with the youthful warrior, who had
just overpowered and stabbed him; the helpless
victim raising his withered hands and failing
eyes to Heaven as he fell, as though to implore
vengeance upon his murderer, whilst the crimson
current was fast ebbing from his bosom. The
dying look and agony of the old man were for-
cibly depicted, whilst upon the features of the
youthful warrior glowed the fury of a demon.
The sarcophagus was supported by the lion,
emblem of royalty, the symbol of the solar


THE MUMMY. 227
god Horus; and above it sat the majestic hawk
of Osiris, gazing upwards, and unmindful of
the subtle crocodile of Typhon, that, crouching
under its feet, was just about to seize its breast
in its enormous jaws. Neither of the travellers
had as yet spoken, for it seemed like sacrilege
to disturb the awful stillness that prevailed even
by a whisper. Indeed, the solemn aspect of the
chamber thrilled through every nerve, and they
moved slowly, gliding along with noiseless steps
as though they feared prematurely to break the
slumbers of the mighty dead it contained.
They gazed, however, with deep but undefina-
ble interest upon the sculptured mysteries of
the tomb of Cheops, vainly endeavouring to
decipher their meaning ; whilst, as they found
their efforts useless, a secret voice seemed to
whisper in their bosoms—“And shall finite
creatures like these, who cannot even explain
the signification of objects presented before
their eyes, presume to dive into the mysteries
of their Creator's will ? Learn wisdom by this
omen, nor seek again to explore secrets above
your comprehension Retire whilst it is yet
time; soon it will be too late l"


228 THE M U M MY.
Edric started at his own thoughts, as the
fearful warning, “ soon it will be too late,” rang
in his ears; and a fearful presentiment of evil
weighed heavily upon his soul. He turned to
look upon the doctor, but he had already seized
the lid of the sarcophagus, and, with a daring
hand, removed it from its place, displaying in
the fearful light the royal form that lay beneath.
For a moment, both Edric and the doctor
paused, not daring to survey it ; and when they
did, they both uttered an involuntary cry of
astonishment, as the stern, but handsome, fea-
tures of the mummy met their eyes, for both
instantly recognized the sculptured warrior in
his traits. Yes, it was indeed the same, but
the fierce expression of fiery and ungoverned
passions depicted upon the countenance of the
marble figure, had settled down to a calm, vin-
dictive, and concentrated hatred upon that of
its mummy prototype in the tomb.
Awful, indeed, was the gloom that sat upon
that brow, and bitter the sardonic smile that
curled those haughty lips. All was perfect as
though life still animated the form before them,
and it had only reclined there to seek a short


230 THE MUMMY.
well-proportioned limbs of the royal mummy;
and upon his breast lay a piece of metal, shin-
ing like silver, and stamped with the figure of a
winged globe. Edric attempted to remove this,
but recoiled with horror, when he found it bend
beneath his fingers with an unnatural softness ;
whilst, as the flickering light of the lamp fell
upon the face of the mummy, he fancied its
stern features relaxed into a ghastly laugh of
scornful mockery. Worked up to desperation,
he applied the wires of the battery and put the
apparatus in motion, whilst a demoniac laugh
of derision appeared to ring in his ears, and the
surrounding mummies seemed starting from
their places and dancing in unearthly merri-
ment. . Thunder now roared in tremendous
peals through the Pyramids, shaking their
enormous masses to the foundation, and vivid
flashes of light darted round in quick succes-
sion. Edric stood aghast amidst this fearful
convulsion of nature. A horrid creeping seemed
to run through every vein, every nerve feel-
ing as though drawn from its extremity, and
wrapped in icy chillness round his heart. Still,
he stood immoveable, and gazing intently on


THE MUMMY. 231
the mummy, whose eyes had opened with the
shock, and were now fixed on those of Edric,
shining with supernatural lustre. In vain Edric
attempted to rouse himself;—in vain to turn
away from that withering glance. The mum-
my's eyes still pursued him with their ghastly
brightness; they seemed to possess the fabled
fascination of those of the rattle-snake, and
though he shrunk from their gaze, they still
glared horribly upon him. Edric's senses
swam, yet he could not move from the
spot; he remained fixed, chained, and im-
moveable, his eyes still riveted upon the
mummy, and every thought absorbed in hor-
ror. Another fearful peal of thunder now
rolled in lengthened vibrations above his head,
and the mummy rose slowly, his eyes still fixed
upon those of Edric, from his marble tomb.
The thunder pealed louder and louder. Yells
and groans seemed mingled with its roar;--
the sepulchral lamp flared with redoubled
fierceness, flashing its rays around in quick
succession, and with vivid brightness; whilst
by its horrid and uncertain glare, Edric saw
the mummy stretch out its withered hand as


232 The MUMMY.
though to seize him. He saw it rise gradu-
ally—he heard the dry, bony fingers rattle as it
drew them forth—he felt its tremendous gripe
—human nature could bear no more—his senses
were rapidly deserting him ; he felt, however,
the fixed stedfast eyes of Cheops still glow-
ing upon his failing orbs, as the lamp gave a
sudden flash, and then all was darkness . The
brazen gates now shut with a fearful clang, and
Edric, uttering a shriek of horror, fell senseless
upon the ground; whilst his shrill cry of an-
guish rang wildly through the marble vaults,
till its re-echoes seemed like the yell of demons
joining in fearful mockery.
How long he lay in this state he knew not ;
but when he reopened his eyes, for the moment,
he fancied all that had passed a dream. As his
senses returned, however, he recollected where
he was, and shuddered to find himself yet in
that place of horrors. All now was dark, except
a faint gleam that shone feebly through the half-
open gates; these ponderous portals slowly un-
closed, and the form of a man, wrapped in a
large cloak, and bearing a torch, entered, peer-
ing around as it advanced, as though half afraid


THE MUMMY. 233
to proceed. Edric's feelings were too highly
wrought to bear any fresh horrors, and he
shrieked in agony as the figure approached.
The sound of his voice subdued the terrors of
the intruder, and the doctor, for it was he,
shouted with joy, as he rushed forward to em-
brace him.
“Edric l Edric thank God he is alive ſ”
exclaimed he. “Edric my beloved Edric for
God's sake, let us leave this den of horrors'
come, come !”
Reassured by his tutor's voice, Edric arose,
and taking one hasty, shuddering glance around
as the light gleamed on the sarcophagus, he
hurried out of the tomb. Neither he nor the
doctor spoke as they passed through the vesti-
bule, where the colossal figures still sat in awful
majesty; indeed, as their torches were extin-
guished, their gigantic forms looked still more
terrific than before, from the wavering and in-
distinct light thrown upon them. Edric shud-
dered as he looked, and hurried on with hasty
strides to the place where they had left the
guide, whom they found kneeling in a cor-
mer, hiding his face in his hands, and roaring


THE MUMMY. 235
“Oh, for God's sake, take me too !” scream-
ed the guide. “If you have any mercy, don't
leave me in this fearful place.”
“Take the light then, and lead the way,” said
Edric. The guide obeyed, shaking every limb,
and every now and then casting a terrified look
behind, whilst the quivering flame of the torch
betrayed the unsteadiness of the trembling hands
that bore it. In this manner they proceeded,
starting at every sound, and frightened even at
their own shadows, without daring to stop till
they reached the plain.
“Thank God l’” cried the doctor, the mo-
ment they stepped out of the Pyramid; looking
round him, gasping for breath, and inhaling the
fresh air with rapture.
“Thank God!” reiterated Edric and the
guide, as they walked rapidly towards the
place where they had left their balloon.
When arrived there, however, they looked
for it in vain; and fancying themselves under
the influence of a delusion, they rubbed their
eyes, and again looked, but without success.
“Dear me, it is very strange " said the doc-
tor; “this is certainly the place, and yet,
where can it be P’


236 THE MUMMY.
“Where, indeed!” repeated Edric; “horrors
and unaccountable incidents environ us at every
step ; I am not naturally timid, yet—"
“Ah !” screamed the doctor, as he tumbled
over a man lying with his face upon the
ground; “Oh ſ” groaned he, as Edric and the
guide with difficulty raised him; “would to
Heaven I were safe at home again in my own
comfortable little study, indulging on pleasing
anticipations of that which I find is any thing
in the world but pleasing in reality.”


THE MUMMY. 237
CHAPTER X.
WE left Dr. Entwerfen in the last chapter
uttering a very moral, if not a very new, excla-
mation on the vanity of human expectations;
which had scarcely escaped from his lips, ere
cruel Fate, resolving not to be accused in vain,
supplied him with yet more abundant cause for
lamentation. We have before mentioned, that
the doctor had stumbled as he quitted the Py-
ramids, and that his friends raised him from the
ground ; but what was his consternation and
dismay, when, on looking round to thank them,
he found he was surrounded by armed men,
who commanded him in the royal name to sur-
render Sadly did the doctor turn his woful
eyes upon Edric, but, alas ! he was in the same
predicament as himself; and, in spite of their


238 THE MUMMY.
entreaties, they were marched off to prison,
without being at all informed of what crime
they had committed.
Sadly passed the night, and gloomy dawned
the day upon the unfortunate travellers, whose
minds were harassed and bewildered by the
extraordinary success of their awful experi-
ment, and whose misery was infinitely in-
creased by the suspense they had to suffer,
both on account of their ignorance of the crime
of which they were accused, and its probable
punishment if they should be found guilty.
Soon after daybreak, however, a summons for
them arrived, and they were conducted as crimi-
mals before the same magistrate who, the day
before, had treated them with such officious
kindness.
Very different, however, was the solemn
judge who, clothed in all the insignia of magis-
terial dignity, now sate upon the bench, from
the easy, good-tempered gentleman of the Pyra-
mids; and the unlucky travellers saw, in an in-
stant, that they were not likely to experience
any favour from their previous acquaintance
with him. The court was thronged with people,


THE MUMMY. 239
and the prisoners saw that they were regarded
with curiosity, mingled with horror and superna-
tural fear. It is not agreeable to feel oneself an
object of disgust to any one; and though Edric
magnanimously and frequently repeated to him-
self that it was quite indifferent to him what
such ignorant wretches as Egyptians thought of
him; yet, if he would have avowed the truth,
he would have been quite as well contented to
have found himself the object of their admiration
instead of their hatred; and he would have been
very glad to have been safely at home again;
whilst the doctor openly and loudly lamented
the much regretted comforts of his own dear
delightful study at Sir Ambrose's. Little time,
however, was allowed for reflection; for as soon
as the prisoners were placed at the bar their ex-
amination commenced.
“So, gentlemen ſ” said the learned judge,
“you stand convicted—no, I mean accused, of
a most horrible, heinous, and sacrilegious offence
—an offence that makes our hair start with
horror from our heads, and every separate lock
rise up in vengeance against you.” The justice
paused, that the prisoners might admire his elo-


240 THE MUMMY.
quence; but, alas! such was the absorbing na-
ture of self-love, that they were only thinking of
what was going to be done with them, and to .
what this terrible exordium was likely to lead.
After a short pause, Edric, supposing they were
expected to speak, addressed the judge, and
begged to know of what crime they were ac-
cused.
“We are strangers,” said he, “and gentle-
men. We were attracted to your country by an
account of the wonders it contained; we de-
clared our purposes openly ; we have affected
no concealment; and we have done nothing we
need blush to avow—”
A confused murmur ran through the court
as he spoke, expressive of the utmost disgust
and abhorrence; Edric felt indignant, and he
looked round proudly as he added:–
“Yes, I repeat we have done nothing we
need blush to avow, and nothing derogatory
to our characters as Englishmen and gentle-
2*
inen.
“Sorcerers wizards ! demons in disguise !”
cried the crowd. “Down with them burn
them guillotine them destroy them ſ”
-------


THE MUMMY. 241
“Is this fair P is this generous * asked
Edric. “If we have done wrong, let our crime
be proved, and we are ready to submit to any
punishment you may think proper to inflict;
but do not condemn us unheard. In Eng-
land, every man is deemed innocent until he be
proved guilty. You boast of having imported
and improved upon all the useful regulations
of the mother country, and cannot surely have
omitted her most glorious law. Let us then
have a fair trial, and God forbid that the course
of justice should be impeded.”
“You talk well, Sir,” said the judge; “but
it's of no use here. My chair, Sir, is made of
witch-elm, and the whole court is lined with
consecrated wood ; so you may take your fami-
liars to another market, for here they will avail
you nothing.”
“Good God I" exclaimed Edric, wringing
his hands, “what ignorance what gross su-
perstition 1 And yet, in this man's power are
our lives 1’’
“Oh 1 oh!” said the judge, who saw his de-
spair, though he did not exactly know the cause:
“I have brought you to, have I? Yes, yes;
WOI. I. M


THE MUMMY. 243
ting there, thinking of nothing at all, and some-
how, I believe, I had fallen into a bit of a dose,
I heard a queer sort of a buzzing, and I opened
my eyes, and there I saw the gentlemen's whir-
ligig buzzing and puffing like a steam-engine
on fire, and i' th' midst o' the smoke I'll take
my oath I saw the mummy of King Cheops as
plain as I see his worship there sitting in his
throne.”
“Oh ſ” groaned the horror-struck crowd ;
“Oh ſ” groaned the judge and jury.
“Yes,” continued the man; “I’ll take my
oath, if it was the last word I had to speak, that
I saw him there vomiting fire, and his big eyes
flaring like a fiery furnace.”
“Oh ſ” groaned the judge, crowd, and jury,
a degree louder than before.
“And then,” resumed Gregory, “ something
went whiz, and off it all fled together like a flash
of lightning—”
“Oh 1” shrieked the whole court, in a con-
vulsion of horror. Some of the fair sex in par-
ticular, screamed and covered their faces, as
though they feared the next exploit of the re-
doubtable magicians would be to blow up the
M 2


244 THE MUMMY.
court, and send them all flying after the resus-
citated mummy.
“With your permission, Sir,” said Edric,
as soon as the tumult had somewhat abated,
“this proves nothing against either my friend
or myself. We are, in fact, injured by it, and
we have a claim against you instead of your
being able to substantiate a charge against us.
We left our balloon, containing valuable arti-
cles, and money to a considerable amount, in
your charge, or, at least, in the custody of a
man whom you recommended. When we
quitted the Pyramid, we, of course, inquired for
our balloon—it had vanished ; and instead of
making us amends for our loss, you throw us
into prison and tell us a wild, extravagant story
of the disappearance of our property, which no
man in his senses can possibly believe.”
Another confused murmur, though very dif-
ferent in its character from the former, ran
through the court on the conclusion of this
speech ; and the judge, if such an expression be
not profane when speaking of a representative
of justice, looked most excessively foolish.
“Had not your worship better call the other


THE MUMMY. 245
witnesses P” whispered the clerk, pitying the
dilemma of his principal.
“True, true !” said the Lycurgus of Anglo-
Egypt ; “your observation is premature, young
man; when the case has been proved against
you, it will be time enough for you to think of
your defence.”
Edric bowed assent, and the examination con-
tinued. The guide was the next witness.
“Well, Samuel,” said the judge; “what do
you know about this matter f"
“Why, Sir,” replied Samuel, “ye see, my
dame and I were sitting by the fire, and we’d
got a black pudding, as we was a going to
have for our dinners. And so says dame,
“I likes it cut in slices and fried, and so says
I **
“Hold, fellow !” cried the judge, with great
dignity. “Don’t abuse the patience of the
Court. We have nothing to do with your dame
or the black pudding; it is quite irrelevant to
the matter now before us. Go on.”
But Samuel could not go on ; and, like his
predecessor in the witness-box, he only stood
still and scratched his head.


246 THE MUMMY.
“Why don't you speak, fellow P” asked the
clerk.
“Because I doesn't know what to say,” re-
plied Samuel.
“You must tell all you know about this
affair,” pursued the clerk.
“But I doesn't know where to begin ſ” re-
joined the perplexed witness; “his worship
says it is not reverent.”
“Begin with the Pyramid,” said the judge;
“and, if you can, give a clear account of all
that happened after you left the old passage by
the moveable block in the wall that was last
discovered.”
“Why I can't say there was any thing very
particular happened, as I know of, Sir,” said
Samuel, “after that, till we got to the shaft,
and then we went down, Sir, you know, as we
always does, till we came to the tomb of King
Cheops; and then I turned the gentlemen in
by themselves, as we always does, for the 'fect,
as Parson Snorum calls it. And then I sits
me down i' the vault, to wait for 'em, and I’d
just rolled myself up, and was dozed asleep,
when I hears such a noise as if the Pyramids


T H E MUMMY. 247
were all coming tumbling about my ears. So
up I jumped and rubbed my eyes, for I did
not know very well where I was; and then I
saw something that seemed to strike the torches
out of the hands of the two great sitting figures,
and put them out; and then I saw a great tall
figure come gliding by me; and when he came
up to the light, I saw his great flaming eyes;
and then I fell upon my knees, and he laid
hold of my shoulder and griped it. Look, your
honour !” laying bare his shoulder as he spoke,
and showing the deeply indented marks of the
bony fingers of the Mummy. Again a groan
of horror and indignation ran through the
Court; and when another witness proved that
the sarcophagus of Cheops had been examined,
and was found empty, the judge seemed to
think it was a clear case, and called trium-
phantly upon Edric for his defence. -
“I do not see that what has been proved,’
said Edric, shuddering in spite of himself,
“can affect either my tutor or myself. These
people say that a mummy has revived, and,
quitting the Pyramid in which he had been so
long immured, has flown away with our bal-


THE MUMMY. 249
at this speech, seeming to fear that Edric was
about to put his suggestions into execution;
whilst the judge seemed posed, and in vast per-
plexity as to what he had better determine ;-
and the people were dreadfully afraid, lest they
might, after all, lose the edifying spectacle of
of an auto-da-fé, for which they had been so im-
patiently longing.
Edric marked the hesitation of the judge,
and endeavoured to improve it to his own ad-
vantage.—“For my part,” continued he, “I
am a British subject, and as such, under the
protection of my own Court; my Sovereign has
a consul here, and to him I make my appeal.
I am neither ignoble, nor unknown in my own
country, my name is Montagu, and I am bro-
ther to the celebrated general of that family,–
whose victories, no doubt, have reached even
this remote province 1”
“My dear Mr. Montagu !” said the judge,
“I really beg your pardon: why did you not
acquaint me sooner with your dignity ? I dare
say there is no truth at all in the charge:–only
assure me upon your honour that you did not
touch the mummy, and that you know no-
M 5


250 THE MUMMY.
thing of what is become of it at present,
and I will instantly order you to be set at
liberty.”
“I certainly do not know what is become of
it,” replied Edric. “But—”
“No ſ” interrupted Dr. Entwerfen, coming
forward with the air of a determined martyr,
“I will not suffer such equivocation. — I
would rather perish at the stake, than disa-
vow, for a moment, my opinions, or betray the
sacred interests of science with which I feel I
am intrusted. No, Sir my pupil cannot make
the public declaration you require. I know he
would not—and he cannot if he would;—on the
contrary, I avow the fact. We came here for the
express purpose of endeavouring to resuscitate
the mummy of Cheops, and I glory in the
proud thought that we have succeeded.” (a
groan of horror.) “Yes, Sir, I do not hesitate to
avow openly, that the grand object of my life,
for several successive years, has been to detect
in what consisted the strange, inexplicable secret
of life. We live, Sir, we die: we are born,
and we are buried : we know that time, sick-
ness, or violence, may kill us; but who can say


THE MUMMY. 251
in what the mysterious principle of life consists 2
Various theories have been broached, with
which, no doubt, a gentleman of your intelli-
gence and extensive information is well ac-
quainted;—and life has been successively stated
to depend upon the heart, the brain, the circu-
lation of the blood, and the respiration of the
lungs. All, however, are fallacious; the heart
has been wounded, and the brain has been
removed, and yet the patient has lived, whilst
the operations of respiration and circulation
have been kept up for hours, in a body from
which the vital spirit had departed. Weighing
all these and divers other arguments in my
mind, it has struck me, and indeed I may say,
that after mature deliberation, I have confident-
ly arrived at the conclusion, that both the fa-
culties which we call life and soul depend en-
tirely upon the nervous system. Do not all
philosophers agree that we receive ideas merely
through the medium of the senses P And can
our senses be operated upon otherwise than
through the influence of the nerves 2 Ergo, the
nerves alone convey ideas and sensations to the
mind—or rather, the nerves alone are the mind.


252 THE MUMMY.
Not a single instance, I believe, is known in
which life remained after the sensorium had
been destroyed, or even seriously injured. What
then can be more simple than to suppose life
resides there 2 Pursuing this idea, I have long
been convinced that where the nervous system
remained uninjured, and the appearance of
death was only occasioned by a suspension of
the operation of the animal functions, that life
might be restored, if, by the intervention of
any powerful agency, the nervous system could
be excited to re-action ; and as this, of course,
could not be effected where any kind of decom-
position had taken place, it appeared to me that
a mummy was the only body upon which the
experiment could be tried with the least pro-
spect of success. From various circumstances,
however, it has never till now been in my power
to realize my wishes on this head; but for a
few weeks past, my pupil has entertained simi-
lar longings to myself; and yesterday saw our
hopes accomplished. Yes; I flatter myself
there cannot now remain a shadow of doubt to
the world, that, in ordinary cases, before de-
composition has taken place, that resuscitation


THE MUM MY. 253
is not only possible, but probable, and that dead
bodies may be easily restored to life.”
The horror and consternation produced by
this extraordinary speech, amongst the Anglo-
Egyptians who heard it, far exceeded any hu-
man powers of description. Their terror at what
they considered as the doctor's daring impiety, be-
ing considerably augmented by their not under-
standing above one-tenth part of what he said,
—and when he had finished, there was a dead
pause which no one dared to interrupt, till a
sudden gust of wind happening to blow open the
door of the justice's retiring-room, the terrified
crowd fell back aghast one upon another, pale
and trembling, as though they absolutely ex-
pected his Infernal Majesty to appear before
them in propriá personá.
When tranquillity was in some degree re-
stored, the judge ordered the prisoners to be
reconducted to prison.
“After the dangerous and impious speech we
have just heard,” said he, “it would be mad-
ness to trust such suspected persons at large;
and yet, I would willingly take time to consider
the case, and to ascertain whether this young


254 THE MUMMY.
man be indeed the person he represents him-
self; as, I own, I should be sorry to inflict
the full penalty of the law upon the brother
of her Britannic Majesty's Commander-in-
chief.”
Remonstrance was useless, and the prisoners
were again conducted to their dungeon where
they were heavily chained, and left to ruminate
upon the calamities that had befallen them.
Far from agreeable were these meditations; for
Edric was too angry with the doctor's ill-timed
candour to be inclined to speak; and the doctor
was too much ashamed of the effect already
produced by his eloquence, to wish to make any
farther display of it. At length, as his eyes
became accustomed to the faint glimmering
light admitted into the dungeon, he perceived
the wall to which he was chained was covered
with hieroglyphics, and endeavoured to divert
his chagrin by examining them.
“I congratulate you, Sir,” said Edric, when
he perceived this, feeling rather indignant at
his tutor's coolness—“I congratulate you most
sincerely upon your philosophy, and most ear-
nestly do I wish that I could imitate it.”


256 THE MUMMY.
as the ancient Egyptians found that the sun
began its career in Taurus, what could be more
natural than that they should identify a bull
with the vivifying principle P The same theory
may account for that legend of the Chaldeans,
which supposes the world to have been produced
by a bull’s striking chaos with his horn—which
horn, by the way, was probably the origin of
the fable of Amalthea, or the Horn of Plenty.”
Edric made no reply, and the doctor dread-
ing a pause, which might give his pupil an op-
portunity of upbraiding him, went on:—
“Though the Egyptians had a number of
divinities, they clearly worshipped only two,
viz. the principles of good and evil. Osiris,
Isis, Cneph, Phath, Horus, and all their host
of inferior deities, were clearly types of the
first, and light and life were their essence;
whilst Typhon, Campsa, and the malignant
deities, exemplified the second, and their attri-
butes were invariably darkness and death.”
“For Heaven's sake " cried Edric, “ say no
more upon the subject, for it is not in the power
of language to describe the horror I have at the
mere thought of any thing Egyptian. Let us


THE MUMMY. 257
escape from this fearful country, and I most
sincerely hope nothing may ever happen to re-
call even its recollection to my imagination.”
“Such and so changeable are the desires of
human life " said the doctor. “But a few short
weeks since, Egypt was the goal of your wishes,
and the prospect of re-animating a corpse—”
“Oh I do not mention it !” cried Edric,
shuddering. “Oh God! how justly am I punish-
ed, by the very fulfilment of my unhallowed
hopes —even now the fearful eyes of that hide-
ous Mummy seem to glare upon me; and even
now I feel the gripe of its horrid bony fingers
on my arm ſ”
“Oh yes, no doubt,” exclaimed the doctor,
“he pinched hard. He was a king, and kings
should have strong arms, you know.”
“For God's sake do not jest upon such a
subject,” returned Edric; “a subject so wild
and fearful, that I can still scarcely believe but
that all which has passed was a dream.”
“If it be,” said the doctor, “it is one from
which I freely avow I should be very happy to
awake, for I must confess this prison is not at
all to my taste.”


258 THE MUMMY.
“And yet, is it not your fault—?” began
Edric.
“Recrimination, Edric, is always folly,” in-
terrupted the doctor, who did not now feel very
proud of the part he had acted before the ma-
gistrate, nor very anxious to have it alluded to ;
—“and instead of losing time in regretting
past errors, it is the part of a wise man to en-
deavour to find means of remedying them, and
avoiding them in future.”
“Agreed ſ” returned Edric; “and as I pre-
sume you are now convinced your learned dis-
sertation on the probable seat of human life was,
to say the least, ill-timed, we will drop the sub-
ject. But, even if we get out of prison, what
is to become of us? Our money and valuables
were all in the balloon; and here we are, in a
foreign country, entirely destitute.”
“Not entirely, Edric—not entirely ſ” cried
the doctor, a glow of satisfaction spreading it-
self again over his face; “no, no; I have
guarded against that; ah, what a thing it is to
have foresight ! Well! some persons are certain-
ly singularly gifted in that line, and it is a happy


260 THE MUMMY.
After what I had mentioned of my family, he
only wished a decent pretext for setting us at
liberty.”
“At any rate,” said the doctor, by way of
changing the subject, “ you see my doctrine
is proved completely by the resuscitation of
the mummy, for it must have been perfectly re-
stored to life and consciousness, or it could not
have flown away with the balloon.”
“For my part,” returned Edric, “I can
scarcely believe what has occurred to be real :
there must be some deception. And yet, by
whom can a deception have been practised, and
for what purpose P In short, I am quite be-
wildered.”
The doctor being much in the same condition,
could only sympathize with his pupil ; and in
this state we must leave them, whilst we inquire
respecting the mysterious object of their specu-
lations.
The mummy thus strangely recalled to life,
was indeed Cheops! and horrible were the sen-
sations that throbbed through every nerve as
returning consciousness brought with it all the
pangs of his former existence, and renewed circu-


THE MUMMY. 261
lation thrilled through every vein. His first
impulse was to quit the tomb in which he had
been so long immured, and seek again the re-
gions of light and day. Instinct seemed to guide
him to this; for, as yet, a mist hung over his
faculties, and ideas thronged in painful confu-
sion through his mind, which he was incapable
of either arranging or analyzing.
When however he reached the plain, light
and air seemed to revive him and restore his
scattered senses; and gazing wildly around he
exclaimed, “Where am I ? what place is this?
Methinks all seems wondrous, new, and strange |
Where is my father P And where ! oh, where,
is my Arsinée P Alas, alas !” continued he
wildly; “I had forgotten—I hoped it was a
dream, a fearful dream, for methinks I have
been long asleep. Was it, indeed, reality ? Are
all, all gone? And was that hideous scene true?
—those horrors that still haunt my memory
like a ghastly vision ? Speak 1 speak ſ” conti-
nued he, his voice rising in thrilling energy as he
spoke—“speak let me hear the sound of ano-
ther's voice, before my brain is lost in mad-
ness. Have I entered Hades, or am I still on


262 THE MUMMY.
earth P-yes, yes, it is still the earth, for there
the mighty Pyramid, I caused to be erected
towers behind me. Yet where is Memphis 2
where my forts and palaces P What a dark,
smoky mass of buildings now surrounds me!—
Can this be the once proud Queen of Cities 2
Oh, no! I see no palaces, no temples–Memphis
is fallen. The mighty barrier that protected
her splendour from the waste of waters, must
have been swept away by the encroaching in-
roads of the swelling Nile. But is this the
Nile ” continued he, looking wildly upon the
river; “sure I must be deceived. It is the
fatal river of the dead. No papyrine boats
glide smoothly on its surface; but strange, in-
fernal vessels, vomiting forth volumes of fire and
smoke. Holy Osiris, defend me ! where am I?
where have I been P A misty veil seems thrown
upon the face of nature. Awake, awake l’’
cried he, with a scream of agony; “set me
free ; I did not mean to slay him ſ” Then
throwing himself violently upon the ground,
he lay for some moments, apparently insensi-
ble. Then slowly rising, he looked at himself,
and a deep, unnatural shuddering convulsed his


THE MUMMY. 263
whole frame. His sensations of identity be-
came confused, and he recoiled with horror
from himself: “These are the trappings of a
mummy!” murmured he in a hollow whisper.
“Am I then dead P” The next instant, how-
ever, he broke into a wild laugh of derision: –
“Poor, feeble wretch 1” cried he ; “what do
I fear P-Need I tremble, in whose bosom
dwells everlasting fire? No-no! let me rather
rejoice. I cannot be more wretched; why then
should I dread a change P I should rather
welcome it with transport, and bravely dare
my fate.”
At this moment the car of the balloon
caught his eye: “Ah what is that ?" cried
he ; “I am summoned 1 'Tis the boat of He-
cate, ready to ferry me across the Maerian Lake,
to learn my final doom. I come ! I come ! I
fear no judgment My hell is here !” and,
striking his bosom, leaped into the car, and
stamped violently against its sides.
At this instant Gregory awoke ; his terror
was not surprising. The dried, distorted fea-
tures of the Mummy looked yet more hideous
than before, when animated by human passions;


THE MUMMY. 265
CHAPTER XI.
In the mean time, Sir Ambrose Montagu
had been presented to the Queen, and the even-
ing after his arrival in town he attended her
drawing-room. The splendour of the English
Court at this period defies description. The
walls of the room in which the Queen received
her guest, were literally one blaze of precious
stones, and these being disposed in the form of
bouquets, wreaths, and trophies, were so con-
trived as to quiver with every movement.
These magnificent walls were relieved by a colon-
made of pillars of solid gold, around which, were
twined wreaths of jewels fixed also upon elastic
gold wires, so as to tremble every instant. The
throne of the Queen was formed of gold filagree
VOL. I. N


266 THE MUMMY.
beautifully wrought, richly chased and superbly
ornamented, whilst behind it was an immense
plate of looking-glass, stretching the whole
length and height of the apartment, and giv-
ing the whole the effect of a fairy palace. The
carpet spread upon the floor of this sumptuous
saloon was so exact an imitation of green moss,
with exquisitely beautiful groups of flowers
thrown carelessly upon it, that a heedless
spectator might have been completely deceiv-
ed by the delicacy of their shape and rich-
ness of their colouring, and have stooped to
pick them up, supposing them to be real.
The suit of rooms appropriated to dancing
was equally splendid, and fitted up in the
same manner, save that the floors were paint-
ed to imitate the effect of the carpet, and rows
of trees were placed on each side, hung with
lamps. This imitative grove was so exquisite-
ly managed, that the spectator could scarcely
believe it artificial; and the music for danc-
ing proceeded from its leaves, or from au-
tomaton birds placed carelessly amongst its
branches.
The dresses of the Queen and her attendants


THE MUMMY. 267
were worthy of the apartment they occupied.
Brocaded silks, cloth of gold, embroided velvets,
gold and silver tissues, and gossamer nets made
of the spider's web, were mingled with precious
stones and superb plumes of feathers in a profu-
sion quite beyond description. The most beauti-
ful of the female habiliments, however, were robes
made of woven asbestos, which glittered in the
brilliant light like molten silver. The ladies were
all arrayed in loose trowsers, over which hung
drapery in graceful folds; and most of them car-
ried on their heads, streams of lighted gas forced
by capillary tubes into plumes, fleurs-de-lis, or
in short any form the wearer pleased; which jets
de feu had an uncommonly chaste and elegant
effect. The gentlemen were all clothed in the
Spanish style, with slashed sleeves, short cloaks,
and large hats, ornamented with immense plumes
of ostrich feathers, it being considered in those
days extremely vulgar to appear with the head
uncovered. It would, perhaps, have been diffi-
cult to imagine more perfect models of male and
female beauty than those which now adorned
the Court of Queen Claudia, for the beau ideal
of the painter's fancy seemed realized, may sur-
N 2


THE M UMMY. 269
graciously; she gave him her snowy hand to kiss,
and addressed a few words of compliment to
him, which sank deep into his heart. It is
one of the privileges of greatness easily to
excite emotion ; one word of commendation
from those above us, far outweighs all the
laboured flattery of our inferiors. Thus the
words of Claudia, and the warm praise she be-
stowed on Edmund, gave the purest trans-
port to his father's heart; and affected him so
violently, that he would have fallen at her feet,
had he not been supported by a young man
who stood near him.
“You seem faint, Sir,” said the youth;
“will you permit me to lead you to a seat.”
“Thank you, thank you,” cried Sir Ambrose,
gratefully accepting the proffered aid, and
leaning on his youthful supporter as they left
the presence. The stranger carefully placed
Sir Ambrose upon a sofa, under the harmonious
trees we have already mentioned; and as he
stood before him, asking if he should procure
him some refreshments, Sir Ambrose had full
leisure to survey his face and figure: both
were handsome in the extreme. The youth


270 T H E MUMMY.
seemed scarcely to have passed the age of boy-
hood, and his well-proportioned form displayed
all the lightness and activity of youth ; but wit
and good-humour laughed in his bright blue eyes,
whilst animated features and an enchanting
smile completed an ensemble which few bosoms
were frozen enough to resist. Sir Ambrose was
irresistibly pleased, and longed to know to
whom he was indebted for so much kindness.
But he felt too delicate to ask the question in
direct terms, and there was nothing in the
youth's exterior to mark decidedly to what rank
in life he might belong.
He was handsomely dressed, and his air and
manner appeared slightly foreign ; though this
might be fancy, arising from Sir Ambrose's
ignorance of the manners and habits of the
Court. There also seemed something droll
about him, and the air with which he sub-
mitted to Sir Ambrose's scrutiny was exces-
sively comic.
“Is there any thing I can do for you?” ask-
ed he at length, when he thought the baronet's
curiosity had had time to satisfy itself.
“Nothing,” replied Sir Ambrose; “but—”


THE MUMMY . 271
“But—you would like to know who I am *
said the stranger. -
“I own,” returned Sir Ambrose, blushing,
“I would fain know to whom I am so much
obliged.”
“My name is Henry Seymour,” replied the
youth. “I was born in Spain, of English pa-
rents. I am an orphan and in want ; and
have been introduced to the Queen, in hopes
of getting a place at Court, by one of her
Majesty's physicians, Dr. Coleman.”
“I am quite ashamed,” said Sir Ambrose,
“ that my indiscreet curiosity—that is, that
you should have thought—I mean, that I
should have asked for—”
“In short,” interrupted the youth, “you
think, perhaps, that I meant to call you rude
by giving such a long, account of myself:
but I always do so in similar cases; it saves
trouble.”
Sir Ambrose smiled. “You are a singular
youth,” said he ; “I should like to know you
better.”
“And I,” returned the stranger, “should
be proud to obtain the friendship of Sir Am-


272 THE MUMMYe
brose Montagu, and shall always reckon the
day that introduced me to his notice, as one
of the happiest of my life.”
A glow of pleasure spread over the animat-
ed features of the youth as he spoke, and Sir
Ambrose fancied his accent sounded slight-
ly Irish: convinced, however, that he must be
mistaken, he did not remark it, but only ex-
claimed, “You know me, then P”
Before the stranger had time to utter a reply,
the Duke of Cornwall, and the Princesses Rosa-
bella and Elvira approached, and prevented
him from speaking.
“How do you find yourself, my dear
friend ?" said the duke; “they told us you
were ill.”
“I have been slightly so,” returned Sir Am-
brose; “and I believe I should have fainted,
and paid my respects to my Sovereign quite
orientally, if this gentleman had not saved
me.”
“I am sure we are very much obliged to
you, Sir,” said the duke, turning to the
youth. -
“Indeed, we feel most grateful,” said Elvira.


274 THE MUMMY.
power to make you sigh. He has reason to
feel flattered.”
“Oh, Emma 1 I wish he were like Henry
Seymour !”
“And who is Henry Seymour P” asked
Emma, smiling, and beginning to suspect that
she had been rather hasty in fancying Lord
Edmund had occasion to flatter himself on ac-
count of the Princess's tristesse.
“One of the most fascinating of human be-
ings,” returned Elvira; “so gay, and yet so
tender. He is not, perhaps, so regularly hand-
some as Edmund, but he has such expressive
features, and his soul gives such animation to
his countenance.”
“Poor Edmund!” thought Emma : but as
she was too discreet to say so, Elvira was
not aware of the interpretation that might be
put on what she was saying ; and she went
on, raving of the pleasures of the ball, till
she was fairly in bed.
The following day was appointed for the
triumphal entry of Lord Edmund, and the
greatest part of the night preceding it, was
passed by Sir Ambrose in the greatest agita-


276 the Mi U M MY.
stop his ears from the solemn sound, which
seemed to absorb his every faculty, and
strike almost with the force of a blow upon
his nerves.
Whilst he was still in this position, Father
Morris entered the room.—“Come, come, Sir
Ambrose ſ” cried he, “are you not ready ?
The Queen has sent for us, and the procession
is just ready to set off.”— Sir Ambrose started:
he attempted to dress himself, but his trembling
hands refused to perform their office, and Father
Morris and Abelard were obliged to attire him,
and lead him down to join his friend, the duke,
who was waiting for him impatiently.
It has often been said that the anticipation
of pleasure is always greater than the reality:
this, however, was not the case in the present
instance, as the brilliancy of Lord Edmund's
triumph was far greater than even the imagina-
tions of the spectators had before dared to
conceive. The duke and Sir Ambrose, attend-
ed by Father Morris, found the individuals
who were to compose the procession of the
Queen assembled in the extensive gardens be-
longing to the superb palace of Somerset


THE MUMMY. 277
House. These fine gardens, spreading their
verdant groves along the banks of the river,
adorned by all the charms of mature and art,
and enriched by some of the finest specimens
of sculpture in the world, were now crowded
with all the beauty and rank of England, who,
waiting for the arrival of their Sovereign,
formed an ensemble no other nation in the world
could hope to imitate. -
In the centre walk, appeared the superb Ara-
bian charger of the Queen, led by his grooms,
and magnificently caparisoned. His bridle was
studded with precious stones, and his hoofs
cased in gold; whilst his blue satin saddle and
housings were richly embroidered and fringed
with the same metal. The noble animal, whose
flowing mane and tail swept the ground, paced
proudly along, tossing his head on high, and
spurning the ground on which he trod, as though
conscious he should perform a conspicuous part
in the grand pageant about to take place. All
now was ready, but yet Queen Claudia did not
appear.
“It is very strange, but lately it is always
so,” said Lord Maysworth to Lord Gustavus de


278 THE MUMMY.
Montfort, who had been for some time engaged
in earnest conversation with Father Morris.
Lord Gustavus started at the sound of his
friend's voice in some apparent confusion, whilst
Father Morris replied in his usual soft, insinuat-
ing tones, “Perhaps her Majesty may be in-
disposed, and have slept rather longer than
usual.”
“Most likely,” returned Lord Maysworth;
“yet it is strange the same thing should happen
so often. — If you remember,” continued he,
again addressing Lord Gustavus, “I made
the same observation the morning of her
last levee. Indeed I have frequently made it
lately, and I have observed that she looks pale
and languid.”
“Here she comes, at any rate 1 and for
my part, I think I never saw her look bet-
ter,” said Dr. Hardman, who had now joined
them, and who, notwithstanding his violent
politics, was one of the physicians of the Court.
The indolence of Claudia, which, indeed, seemed
daily increasing, having induced her to over-
look what another Sovereign would have re-
sented.


THE MUMMY. 279
Claudia did indeed look well, and her dress
suited well with her style of beauty. Her
trowsers and vest were of pale blue satin;
whilst over her shoulders was thrown a long
flowing drapery of asbestos silk, which hanging
in graceful folds, swept the ground as she
walked along, shining in the sun like a robe of
woven silver. On her head, she wore a splen-
did tiara of diamonds; and in her hand, she bore
the regal sceptre, surmounted by a dove, and
richly ornamented with precious stones. Thus
gorgeously attired, surrounded by the ladies of
her household, she issued from her palace ;
and whilst her kneeling subjects bent in hum-
ble homage around her, she mounted her no-
ble charger. Cannon were now fired in rapid
succession; the bells of every church rang in
merry peals, and martial music mingled
in the clamour. The palace gates were
thrown open, and the procession poured from
them along the streets, where crowds of
human beings bustled to and fro, eager to
catch a glimpse of the sumptuous spec-
tacle.
First advanced a long double line of monks,


280 THE MUMMY.
arrayed in sacerdotal pomp, and bearing im-
mensely thick lighted tapers in their hands,
chanting thanksgiving for the victory. They
were followed by chorister-boys, flinging in-
cense from silver vases, that hung suspended
by chains in their hands, and chanting also;
their shrill trebles mingling with the deep
bass voices of the priests in rich and mel-
low harmony. The Queen next appeared, her
prancing charger led by grooms, whilst beau-
tiful girls, elegantly attired, walked on each
side of their Sovereign, scattering flowers in her
path from fancy baskets made of wrought gold.
Behind the Queen, rode the ladies of her
household and the principal nobles of her
Court, the superb plumes of ostrich feathers
in the large Spanish hats of the latter, with
their immense mustachios, and open shirt col-
lars, giving them the air of some of Vandyck's 7
best pictures. As they rode slowly along, their
noble Arabians paced proudly, and champed
the bit, impatient of restraint.
The ladies of the Court, superbly dressed
in open litters, next appeared, borne upon the
shoulders of men splendidly clad in rich live-


THE MUMMY. 28]
ries. Amongst these, were Elvira and Rosa-
bella.
These were followed by monks and boys as
before, but singing a somewhat different strain.
It was now a chant of glory and triumph that
swelled upon the ear, for these preceded the
duke and Sir Ambrose; who, the one as uncle
to the Queen, and the other as father of the ex-
pected hero, occupied the post of honour. The
two venerable old men sate hand in hand in a
sumptuous car drawn by two Arabian horses,
and were followed by a large body of the
Queen's guards.
The costliness and variety of the dresses
worn this day, were quite beyond description.
Many of the ladies had turbans of woven glass;
whilst others carried on their hats very pretty
fountains made of glass dust, which, being
thrown up in little jets by a small perpetual
motion wheel, sparkled in the sun like real
water, and had a very singular effect.
In this manner the procession advanced to-
wards Blackheath Square, said to be the largest
and finest in the world, where the meeting be-
tween the Queen and her general was appoint-


282 The MUMMY.
ed to take place. Amongst the numerous bal-
loons that floated in the air, enjoying this mag-
nificent spectacle, was one containing Father
Murphy, who had been prevented, by a sprain-
ed ankle, from joining in the procession, and
the family of Mr. Montagu–and nothing could
be more enthusiastic than their delight, as they
looked down upon the splendid scene below
them. Few things, indeed, could be imagined
finer than the sight of this gorgeous cortege,
winding slowly along a magnificent street, sup-
posed to be five miles long, leading from Black-
friar's Bridge, through Greenwich, to Black-
heath.
Sumptuous rows of houses, or rather palaces,
lined the sides of this superb street; the ter-
races and balconies before which, were crowd-
ed with persons of all ages, beautifully attired,
waving flags of different colours, richly em-
broidered and fringed with gold, whilst fes-
toons of the choicest flowers hung from house
to house. We have already said the air was
thronged with balloons, and the crowd in-
creased every moment. These aérial machines,
loaded with spectators till they were in dan-


THE MUMMY. 283
ger of breaking down, glittered in the sun,
and presented every possible variety of shape
and colour. In fact, every balloon in Lon-
don or the vicinity had been put in requisi-
tion, and enormous sums paid, in some cases,
merely for the privilege of hanging to the
cords that attached the cars, whilst the in-
numerable multitudes that thus loaded the
air, amused themselves by scattering flow-
ers upon the heads of those who rode be-
neath.
Besides balloons, however, a variety of
other modes of conveyance fluttered in the
sky. Some dandies bestrode aérial horses,
inflated with inflammable gas; whilst others
floated upon wings, or glided gently along, re-
clining gracefully upon aérial sledges, the last
being contrived so as to cover a sufficient co-
lumn of air for their support. As the pro-
cession approached the river, the scene became
still more animated; innumerable barges of
every kind and description shot swiftly along,
or glided smoothly over the sparkling water.
Some floated with the tide in large boat-like
shoes; whilst others, reclining on couch-shaped


284 THE MUMMY.
cars, formed of mother of pearl, were drawn
forward by inflated figures representing the
deities or monsters of the deep.
When the Queen reached a spot near Green-
wich, where, through a spacious opening, the
river, in all its glorious majesty, burst upon her,
she paused, and commanded her trumpeters to
advance and sound a flourish. They obeyed,
and after a short pause were answered by
those of Lord Edmund; the sound, mellow-
ed by the distances, pealing along the water
in dulcet harmony. Delighted with this re-
sponse, which announced the arrival of Lord
Edmund and his troops at the appointed place,
the procession of the Queen was again set in
motion, and in a short time arrived at Black-
heath.
The noble square in which the meeting was
to take place, was already thronged with sol-
diers; whilst every house that surrounded it was
covered with spectators. No trees or fantasti-
cal ornaments spoiled the simple grandeur of
this immense space; the houses that sur-
rounded it, built in exact uniformity, each
having a peristyle supported by Corinthian


286 THE MUMMY.
upon the present occasion was thrown a short
cloak of fine scarlet cloth, richly embroidered
with gold, and fastened in front by a cord and
superb tassels, made entirely of the same metal.
He looked a living personification of the God
of War.
The Queen raised him from the ground in
the most gracious manner; and then turning
to the still kneeling soldiers, she made a short
speech to them, of the same nature as that
which she had addressed to Lord Edmund:
after which, again mounting her palfrey, she
made Lord Edmund ride by her side, and
prepared to return to town. Edmund's quick
eye had discovered, and exchanged looks of
affection with his father and friends, though
the etiquette of his present situation did not
permit him to do more ; and he now rode
proudly by the side of the Queen, gracefully
bowing to the assembled crowd as he passed
along, his heart beating with pleasure at the
thought that his triumph was witnessed by
those most dear to him; whilst his noble
Arabian tossed his head and champed his bit
as he pranced forward, as though he also knew


THE MUMMY. 287
the part he was performing in the splendid ce-
remony. -
Acclamations rent the sky as the procession
advanced, and showers of roses were rained
down upon the Queen and her general from
the balloons above ; from which, also, flags
waved in graceful folds, and flapped in the
wind, as the balloons floated along the sky.
Every one seemed delighted with the gran-
deur of this splendid pageant; but no one ex-
perienced more pleasure than the occupiers of
the balloon of Mr. Montagu. Even that obli-
vious gentleman himself was moved to ex-
claim, that he never was more enchanted in
his life; whilst the raptures of his spouse
were so excessive, that, like the spectators of
the stag-hunt on the lake of Killarney, she
was in imminent danger of throwing herself
overboard in her ecstasy: and Clara clasped
her hands together, in all the transports of
childish delight, her sparkling eyes and ani-
mated looks bearing ample witness to her gra-
tification.
“What shouting! what a noise!” exclaimed
Mr. Montagu ; “I declare it puts me in mind


288 THE MUMMY.
of the acclamations in the time of Nero, when
the Romans shouted in concert, and birds fell
from the skies with the noise !”
“La papa, is that true f" asked Clara.
“Och, and that's a strange kind of a ques-
tion,” said Father Murphy, “and one I
wouldn't like a child of mine to be putting.”
“And why not ?” asked Mr. Montagu, some-
what indignantly.
“Because a child ought always to belave what
his father says, before he hears him open his
mouth.”
“How well the Queen looks ſ” observed Mrs.
Montagu, to whom the reverend father's remark
was far from agreeable. “It was said a short
time since, that she had lost her appetite and
could get no rest; but I think she doesn't
seem to have much the matter with her now.”
“My nurse says she's being poisoned,” cried
Clara, “ and that it would be no great matter
if she was, for then the people would have to
choose a Queen for themselves, and they might
make what terms they pleased with her.”
“And is this the kind of servant you suffer
to attend on my daughter, Mrs. Montagu P”


THE MUMMY. 289
demanded the indignant father, roused from his
usual lethargy by the importance of the occa-
sion; “Clara shall go to a boarding-school to-
morrow, and her nurse shall be dismissed. My
child shall not be taught to utter treason.”
“Dear me! Mr. Montagu,” replied the wife,
“what a serious matter you make of a little
harmless gossip !”
“Gossip do you call it?” repeated her hus-
band; “it is such gossip as might cost me my
head, and you your fortune, if it were to reach
unfriendly ears.”
An awkward pause followed this speech,
which no one seemed inclined to break, till Clara
exclaimed, “Dear me! what a pretty horse my
cousin Edmund rides 1"
“I think that’s a prettier that comes after
him,” said Father Murphy.
“What, that one with his head hanging down
and his mane sweeping the ground f" asked Mrs.
Montagu.
“Yes.—And it’s a very handsome young man
also that walks by the side of him,” replied Fa-
ther Murphy.
“His hands are chained as if he were a pri.
VOL. I. O


290 The MUMMY.
soner; and he looks like a foreigner,” observed
Mr. Montagu, who had relapsed into one of
his fits of abstraction: “I wonder what can
bring him there !” -
“Laſ Mr. Montagu, how you talk!” ex-
claimed his wife, “you know my nephew, Lord
Edmund, has just gained a battle, and what can
be more matural than that he should have taken
prisoners f" -
“True,” rejoined Mr. Montagu with the
utmost naïveté, “I never thought of that ſ”
“Och, and it’s a barbarous custom that of
putting chains about the hands of the prisoners,”
said Father Murphy, “as if it was not bad
enough to be a prisoner without looking like
one.”
“Poor fellow !” cried Clara, “I should
like to go and let him, loose. He looks very
melancholy!”
“How great my nephew Lord Edmund
looks?” continued Mrs. Montagu : “I declare
if he were a real king he couldn't have a grander
appearance. And then to see the poor old gen-
tleman his father, my brother-in-law, Sir Am-
brose, sitting there hand-in-hand with the Duke


THE MUMMY. 291
of Cornwall himself—I declare it does my heart
good to look at them "
Whilst Mrs. Montagu was thus exulting in
the reflected grandeur that shone upon her, from
being sister-in-law to the person who sat hand-
in-hand with the duke, the joy and delight of
that exalted personage had been almost as great
as her own.
His impatience during the whole procession
from London had been excessive; and the mo-
ment he saw Edmund, he rubbed his hands in
ecstasy, and jumping up in his seat almost over-
turned Sir Ambrose, who was also bending for-
ward eagerly gazing upon his son. “There !
there he is ‘’” cried the duke. “Look how
handsome he is Oh the young rogue ! there’ll
be many a heart lost to-day, I warrant me !
Look at him, how the colour comes into his
cheeks as the Queen speaks to him | Look!
Now he helps her on her horse—and now see,
he’s looking round for us ! There I caught
his eye—see, Sir Ambrose | don't you see him P
—Surely you arn’t crying, my old friend?
Why you'll make me as great a fool as yourself
—God bless him " I am sure I don't know


294 THE MUMMY.
again to the eyes of the spectators, the same
cold, unimpassioned, abstracted being as be-
fore.
The ovation had now nearly reached Black-
friars' bridge, at the entrance to which, a tri-
umphal arch had been erected. The moment
the Queen and her heroic general passed under
it, a small figure of Fame was contrived to de-
scend from its entablature, and, hovering over
the hero, to drop a laurel crown upon his head.
Shouts of applause followed this well-executed
device; and the passengers in the balloons, won-
dering at the noise, all pressed forward at the
same moment to ascertain the cause of such
continued acclamations. The throng of balloons
became thus every instant more dense. Some
young city apprentices having hired each a pair
of wings for the day, and not exactly knowing
how to manage them, a dreadful tumult ensued;
and the balloons became entangled with the
winged heroes and each other in inextricable
confusion.
The noise now became tremendous; the con-
ductors of the balloons swearing at each other
the most refined oaths, and the ladies sereaming


THE MUMMY. 295
in concert. Several balloons were rent in the
scuffle and fell with tremendous force upon the
earth; whilst some cars were torn from their
supporting ropes, and others roughly overset.
Luckily, however, the whole of England was at
this time so completely excavated, that falling
upon the surface of the earth was like tumbling
upon the parchment of an immense drum, and
consequently only a deep hollow sound was
returned as cargo after cargo of the demolished
balloons struck upon it; some of them, indeed,
rebounded several yards with the violence of
the shock.
Amongst those who fell from the greatest
height, and of course rebounded most violently,
were the unfortunate individuals who composed
the party of Mr. Montagu, an unlucky ap-
prentice having poked his right wing through
the silk of their balloon, in endeavouring to
avoid the charge of an aérial horseman, who
found his AEolian steed too difficult to manage
in the confusion. The car containing our
friends was in consequence precipitated to earth
so rapidly, as for the moment to deprive them
of breath.


298 THE MUMMY.
the air still continued; groans and shrieks
and exclamations, that the atmosphere was
supernaturally haunted, were heard in many
places; and some persons declared the accident
to be the work of demons. A current of wind
had blown those balloons that had become
unmanageable across the city, while the
others, terrified almost to madness, appeared
still contending with some fearful monster in
the sky.
The courtiers, however, heeded not this
disturbance; for all their attention was occu-
pied by the apparently expiring Queen, whose
long-drawn sighs, and convulsed bosom, seemed
to threaten her instant dissolution.
“She's gone !” cried Lord Gustavus de
Montfort, as her bosom heaved with a deep,
heavy sigh, and then all was still.
“Yes, she's dead!” repeated Lord Noodle.
“She is certainly dead ſ” reiterated Lord
Doodle.
And then these sapient counsellors of the
apparently departed Queen shook their wise
heads in sympathy.


300 THE MUMMY. …
taining the Mummy, which had been for some
time entangled with the other balloons, fell
to the ground with tremendous force, close
to the expiring Queen. The gigantic figure
of Cheops started from it as it fell—his
ghastly eyes glaring with unnatural lustre
upon the terrified courtiers, who ran scream-
ing in agony in all directions, forgetting every
thing but the horrid vision before them.
~
END OF WOL. I.
Lon LON
PRINTED BY ñº R. BENT LEY, DORSET-STREET.
22–87
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U of chicago
1934
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