LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 823 L925m v.l Rare Bock & fecial Collections Library CLOSED SiACKf Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/leicestershireta01linw THE MUMMY! A TALE OF THE TWENTY-SECOND CENTURY. ""Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up ?" 1 Sam., xxviii. 15. / IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1827. LONDON PRINTED BY S. AND ft. BENTLEY, DORSET STREET. 3 ^R/> 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, 1 ' 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 !" 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, iC 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 P' 1 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, lika the fleecy vacour 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 ; 4 \ it is the Chronicle of a future age. Weave INTRODUCTION. Vll 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. Vlll INTRODUCTION. *' To no one but yourself has this vision been revealed : clo 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. THE MUMMY. 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 THE 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 ? 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 ? Are not our tastes as refined as theirs, and our minds as highly cultivated ? 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, 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 being masters 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 MUMMY. 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- nent 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 cam digtiitate, 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 !" 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- 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 faint ant 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- x 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. SO 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,*' 1 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,' 1 returned his mas- ter, taking his pipe, " you know I leave these matters entirely to you. 11 " 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- 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 vour 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," lid Sir Ambrose ; " most of your fraternity would be satisfied by being permitted to have their 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 — -— " " 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. vol 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 !" 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 !" 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 V 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 ? Why is not he here to assist his poor old father at such a moment as this r c 2 98 THE MUMMY. In the meantime, Edric was, as usual, en- gaged in those abstract speculations with Dr. Entwerfen, 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, ^indefinable 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. r> " 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 MUMMY. 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 ?" " You know my opinion, 11 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,' 1 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, 1 ' 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. \j\ 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 ? How can it even feel ? I can scarcely analyse my own sensations ; 32 THE MUMMV. 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, u 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 ?* 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 ? 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 ? 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. 1 ' u 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 ?-r- 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 ? 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 . (i 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 86 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- animate ! 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 ? How obtain my father's consent ? 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 V " 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 MUMMY. 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 ? — If you could imagine the struggle in my boscm, 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 ! and that nothing is more disagreeable than to have one's atten- tion distracted, when it has been fixed upon an affair of importance !" " 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.' 1 " 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 THE 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. 1 ' " What V 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 !" "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 V — ' the soldiers fought bravely I 1 — he never speaks of himself. To hear him relate a battle, nobody would imagine he had ever had any thing to do with it." 44 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. v 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 ?" 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 ? I declare it moves ! Good heavens, what can it be ?" " 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."