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THE MUMMY!
A TALE OF THE TWENTY-SECOND CENTURY.
By Jane Webb (Mrs. Loudon).
"Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up?"
I SAM., xxviii. 15.
LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1827.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION.
CHAPTER I. CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER II. CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER III. CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER IV. CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER V. CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER VI. CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER VII. CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER VIII. CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER IX. CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER X. CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XII. CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XIV. CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XV. CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XVI. CHAPTER XXXII.
[Transcriber's note: _The Mummy!_ was originally published in three
volumes. The chapters have been renumbered in this edition, and the
volume breaks indicated (ends of chapters XI and XXIV).]
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 storehouse of my memory: I could
think of nothing 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 invention 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 swelling 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 produce so magical an
effect. It was quite a Claude Lorraine scene; and more fully to enjoy
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 passions
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 question; a delicious stillness
crept over my senses, and the heaving chaos of my ideas was lulled to
repose. A majestic oak stretched its gnarled 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 delightful 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 returning with added sweetness. I listened with delight to their
melody, till their softness seemed 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 without dreaming; and,
accordingly, I had scarcely 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 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
regarding 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 intellectual knowledge) will be greatly enlarged. But even then,
in his plenitude of acquirement, he will be made conscious of the
infirmity of his nature, and will be guilty of many absurdities which,
in his less _enlightened_ state, he would feel ashamed to commit.
"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 human 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 Molière; 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 seldom
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 endeavour to pass before the eyes of the reader.
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 government had been successively adopted and
destroyed, till, as is generally the case after violent revolutions,
they all settled down into an absolute monarchy. In the meantime, the
religion of the country had been mutable as its government; and in
the end, by adopting Catholicism, it seemed to have arrived at nearly
the same result: despotism in the state, indeed, naturally produces
despotism in religion; the implicit faith and passive obedience
required in the one case, being the best of all possible preparatives
for the absolute submission 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, consistently with their prosperity and
happiness. It is not in the nature of the human mind, however, 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:--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 pursue the same career. New
countries were discovered 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 questions of religion, politics, and metaphysics, agitated by
them daily, supplied that stimulus, for which their minds, enervated by
over cultivation, 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 themselves as wise as their rulers, was, that they
took the first convenient opportunity that offered, 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 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 independence, 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, 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 neighbour, and every thing was badly done:
as, however skilful any man may be in any particular 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 civilization were indeed fast slipping
away from them. Every man became afraid lest the hard-earned means
of existence should be torn from his grasp; for, as all laws had
been abolished, the strong tyrannized over the weak, and the most
enlightened nation in the world was in imminent 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 absolutely necessary to civilization; and
sought out their ancient nobility, to endeavour to restore 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 descendant of the late royal
family, and to him the people now resolved humbly and unconditionally
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 forcibly 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,
however, 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 country,
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 breathing 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 enduring,
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,
united with a firm and active disposition, she contrived in time to
restore order, and to confirm 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 kingdom; and cases being decided by principle instead of
precedent, litigation was almost unknown: for as the laws were fully
and clearly 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 renewal of the golden age continued
several years without interruption, the people being too much delighted
with the personal comforts they enjoyed, to complain of the errors
inseparable 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 inconveniences 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 presumption of inexperience, found fault with every
thing they did not understand, and accused the Queen and her ministers
of dotage, merely because they did not accomplish impossibilities. The
government, however, was too firmly established to be easily shaken.
The judicious economy of the Queen had filled her treasury with riches;
her prudent regulations had extended the commerce of her subjects to
an almost incredible extent; and her firm and decided disposition made
her universally respected both at home and abroad. The malcontents were
therefore awed into submission, and obliged, in spite of themselves,
to rest satisfied 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 religion of the country had
altered with its government. Atheism, rational liberty, and fanaticism,
had followed each other in regular succession; and the people found, by
fatal experience, that persecution and bigotry assimilated 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
restored, new saints were canonized, and confessors 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 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 public 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 discoveries made, and so many ingenious contrivances
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 ordered
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 becoming 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, it was
agreed that every ten thousand should choose a deputy to proceed to
London to represent them, and that a majority of these deputies should
elect the Queen. This scheme, however, 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
unanswerable 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 either 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 predecessor, appointing the sons, when the
fathers died, to save trouble. She left the laws as she 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 Roderick, 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 paralysed, 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
regular troops, who had now recovered from their stupor; whilst the
Queen, whose gratitude for the timely succour afforded by Edmund
Montagu was unbounded, made him commander of her forces in Germany, and
the youthful hero quitted England to take possession of his post.