"Have you heard the news?" asked Lord Maysworth one morning, bustling
into the breakfast-room of Lord Gustavus de Montfort.
"What is it?" demanded that noble lord, who was sitting at breakfast
with his usual satellites.
"The King of Ireland has arrived at Oxford with an immense army,
intending to re-establish Elvira."
"Impossible!" cried Lord Gustavus.
"Impossible!" echoed the satellites.
"Something must be done," said Lord Maysworth.
"Thinking as I think, and as I am confident every one who hears me
must think, or at least, ought to think," said Lord Gustavus; "no
government can be worse than the one we have at present."
"The Queen has not performed one of her promises," subjoined Dr.
Hardman; "and her caprice and cruelty are beyond endurance."
"Her extravagance is unbounded," said Lord Maysworth.
"And her arrogance extreme," rejoined Lord Gustavus.
The satellites shook their heads in chorus.
"In my opinion," said Lord Maysworth, "we had better seek Elvira and
try to propitiate her. She was used to be mild and gentle."
"But will she not be too much exasperated with our former desertion, to
listen to us?" asked Dr. Hardman.
"I think not," said Lord Gustavus pompously.
The result of this conference may be easily imagined. Rosabella found
herself deserted; many who would not have had courage to abandon her
cause, had they not found precedents for their conduct, fled in the
suite of the rebel lords. Roderick rapidly advanced, and his army was
every day augmented by the discontented English.
"I am lost, Marianne!" cried the Queen, when she found the enemy was
within a day's march of her capital; "I am ruined past redemption."
"Do not desert yourself," said Marianne, "and you may yet be saved. If
you despair, it is a virtual acknowledgment of the weakness of your
cause."
"What will become of me?" continued Rosabella, wringing her hands; "no
earthly help can save me."
"But courage may," said the deep voice of Cheops, who had entered the
room unobserved.
"Ah!" screamed Rosabella; "it is the fiend!"
Cheops laughed, and the unearthly sound rang hoarsely in the ears of
his auditors.
"Speak, demon! or whatever thou art," cried Marianne; "shall we perish?"
"You shall meet with your reward!" said the Mummy calmly: "Are you
satisfied?"
"Oh, Rosabella!" screamed Father Morris, rushing into the room in an
agony of despair; "save her! save my child!"
"Your child?" cried Rosabella; "can it be possible that _you_ are _my_
father?"
"I am--I am;--but fly--fly--and I forgive every thing; only let us fly!"
"Alas!" cried Marianne; "he has but too much reason for his agony. The
enemy have entered the city."
"What will become of us?" ejaculated the friar. "Fiend! monster!
barbarian!" cried he, addressing Cheops, and seizing him roughly by the
arm; "deliver us! It was thy accursed counsels which involved us in
ruin. Save us!"
"My counsels that led you to ruin!" returned Cheops, with one of his
bitter laughs; "say rather, your own passions. Did I urge you to murder
Claudia? Nay, did I not save Elvira? Did I not warn you that the throne
and misery were inseparably connected? And have not all my promises
been fulfilled to the very letter?"
"Yes, yes; to the letter," returned Father Morris; "but not in spirit."
"By the sacred hawks of Osiris kept at Edfou! I swore Rosabella should
be Queen, and you her favourite minister."
"Talk not of what is past," cried the priest impatiently; "tell me how
to act. The foe is at the gates of the palace."
"Did you not say there was a secret passage, leading from this chamber?"
"There is! there is!" cried Father Morris, with rapture; "we will there
lie concealed, and may surprise them."
Cheops laughed:--"Am I still your foe?" asked he, with his usual
bitterness.
"Name it not, name it not!" cried Father Morris; "we have not an
instant to lose. Hurry into the subterranean passage. I hear the horses
of the enemy in the court of the palace!"
"Thebes was perforated with passages, yet she has fallen," muttered
Cheops, as he followed the friar and Rosabella through the opening into
the secret chamber; Marianne joined them, and the spring pannel closed.
Nothing could be more flattering than the reception Elvira met with
from her people. Roderick had placed her at the head of his army, and
the people hailed her appearance with rapture. Not a blow had been
struck, for the army of Rosabella had joined her banners; and Elvira
advanced to London without opposition. Too mild and forgiving to
indulge a single feeling of revenge, she felt rejoiced that her rival
had escaped, and wished no pursuit to be instituted.
Edric, however, was not so quiescent. A thousand circumstances flashed
upon his mind, to prove that the accession of Rosabella had been long
planned by Father Morris, and he felt convinced he had been the dupe of
the plans they had laid to induce him to quit the kingdom.
"I will find him," said he, "and expose his infamy. He shall not escape
me thus."
Vain, however, was his search, and he returned to the room so lately
occupied by Rosabella restless and dispirited. Elvira was now in this
splendid chamber, surrounded by her friends; and, trembling with
agitation, was awaiting the expected arrival of her father.
"Oh, Heavens!" exclaimed she, as the poor old man was led in;
"Roderick! my beloved Roderick! can we not save him!"
"Alas," returned Roderick, "I fear--but compose yourself, my dearest
girl; all may yet go well."
"Where is Elvira? my child, my darling Elvira!" cried the old man:
"I did not kill her! No," whispered he, drawing near to Roderick; "I
killed _him_, it is true, but it was for her sake. He slandered my
child, and I could not bear that."
"Oh God! oh God!" cried Elvira! "have mercy upon him! It breaks my
heart to see him thus. Leave us, I implore you," she continued,
addressing her friends; "I cannot bear that even you should see the
extent of his malady. Leave him with me, and perhaps my presence may
recall his lost recollection."
Finding opposition only increased her anxiety, her friends at length
consented; and Elvira was left alone with her father. Kneeling by
his side as he lay stretched upon a sofa, the Queen endeavoured to
console him; but he knew her not, and wrung her heart by calling
vehemently upon Elvira. "If I could see my child," said he, "I should
die contented. Call my child! where is Elvira? Yes, yes, I know she is
a Queen, and cannot come to me! Yet I think even a Queen might look at
her poor old father: I only want her to look at me!"
Whilst this scene was passing, Rosabella and her friends lay concealed
in the secret chamber; and, through the moveable pannel, watched every
thing that passed.
"Now is the time," cried Father Morris; when he saw that Elvira,
exhausted by her grief, had hidden her face in her hands, to indulge
her tears unrestrainedly.
"You ensure your own destruction if you kill her!" said Cheops.
"I care not," returned Father Morris; and removing the pannel, he
approached. Elvira saw him not: and the shining dagger already
was aimed at her breast, when it caught the eye of the maniac; and
returning reason flashed through his mind.
"Edgar!" cried he, with a piercing scream, "spare my child!"
The cry roused the friends of Elvira, who had remained in the
antechamber, and they rushed in. In an instant the room was crowded;
Father Morris was secured; and his confederates (from his having left
the pannel open) discovered.
"Edgar!" cried the duke; "yes, it is Edgar! my brother! my only
brother! and this is Elvira. She is not fled; I knew she was not! She
is safe!"
"And is it possible," cried Edric, "that you can be Duke Edgar!"
"I am that wretch!" said Father Morris.
"Then Rosabella is--"
"My child! and for her I have become the wretch I am! Yet to her I have
done my duty; and if she be spared?"
"Ah!" cried M. de Mallet; "it is, it is--yes, I am not deceived,
_that_ is the woman who sold us Pauline."
"Who, which--" exclaimed Edric eagerly.
"There," cried the Swiss, pointing to Marianne.
"Marianne!" exclaimed Edric.
"Yes," said she, "Marianne! He is right; it was I, and now is the
moment of my vengeance. Seduced and deserted by this man," pointing to
Father Morris, "my passions, always impetuous, panted for revenge. _I_
instigated him to murder the wife for whom he had abandoned me--_I_
stole his child and sold her to a stranger--and _I_ substituted my own
wretched offspring, whom I had had by a man he abhorred, in its place."
"What!" cried Father Morris, his livid lips quivering with anguish; "is
not Rosabella my child?"
"No," said Marianne; "twenty years ago I sold your child to this
gentleman," pointing to M. de Mallet. "He was a foreigner, and I
believed, by placing her in his hands, you would never see her more."
"Then who is Rosabella?"
"_My_ child, and by your servant Jacques."
"Curses on thee, woman! What! have I then destroyed myself here and
hereafter for the offspring of that wretch? A man I detested, abhorred,
despised!"
"Yes," said Marianne, with a fiendish laugh. "You abandoned me, and I
swore to be revenged: he heard my oath, and by promising to assist me
obtained my consent to be his paramour. By his aid I effected all the
rest. He has long been dead, but still I have pursued my plan; and when
I saw you risking body and soul for Rosabella, I have gloried, for I
was revenged."
"Fiend!" cried the priest; and rushing upon her before any one
could prevent him, he stabbed her to the heart, and then instantly
withdrawing the dagger buried it in his own bosom. "Still I am
revenged!" cried Marianne, as heaving a deep sigh she expired. Father
Morris never spoke again.
My tale is nearly closed, for dull must be the mind that cannot picture
all the rest. The duke recovered his reason, and enjoyed all the
happiness his bosom was yet capable of, in witnessing the union of his
daughter and Roderick, whom he had loved as Henry Seymour, and now
adored as the hero of Ireland. He gave Pauline a noble fortune, as
his niece, and she married Edric; who, in the absence of his brother,
took possession of his father's wealth, and fixed his residence in his
former dwelling, where, after all his troubles, Dr. Entwerfen found
himself comfortably re-established in his ancient chamber; whilst
Clara, by becoming the bride of Prince Ferdinand, enchanted her mother,
and secured her own happiness.
The coronation of Roderick and Elvira, as King and Queen of the United
Kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland, was superb, and far excelled
that in which Elvira had previously been an actress. Taught wisdom by
experience, however, she no longer placed implicit reliance upon the
shouts of applause that followed her footsteps;--yet, even with the
reflection that all the promises she received might be evanescent, she
could not resist the emotion of pleasure that swelled her breast,
when, after the priest had pronounced the nuptial benediction, she
walked with Roderick, the chosen of her heart, through a long line of
kneeling subjects, and heard every mouth implore blessings on their
heads, and bestow praises on her choice.
Proudly did Elvira look around as she reached the entrance of
Westminster Hall; yet, ere she entered it, a rush and bustle in the
crowd attracted her attention, and a man, clad like a monk, threw
himself before her. Elvira screamed; when the man, throwing back his
cowl, fixed his heavy eyes upon her and exclaimed, "Do you not know me,
Elvira?" It was Edmund.
"Alas! alas!" cried he, "the demon was right; I trusted in my own
strength, and I have fallen, miserably fallen. Though I knew it not,
ambition was my god--and every thing else weighed lightly in the scale.
Yet, even when my ambition was gratified, I was wretched; for I loved
you, Elvira, even whilst I plotted against you;--and as my own heart
reproached me, I felt every wrong you suffered far more poignantly
than you could yourself. My poor father too!--but all is over now, and
I am doomed to bitter expiation of my sins,--bitter indeed, for oh,
how far beyond all other sufferings are the never-dying tortures of
remorse. One thought alone haunted my mind,--one image alone floated
before my senses. I could not die till I had obtained your pardon.
Pardon me then, Elvira! See! thus humbly, at thy feet I implore thy
forgiveness; crouching in the dust, and bending my neck to be thy
footstool!"
"Rise, I entreat you, rise!" said Elvira; "and be assured I forgive
you--nay, that I pity you from my inmost soul."
"She pities me!" cried Edmund; "yet I can bear even this: even pity.
And am I indeed fallen so low as to be pitied! Yes, yes, I am indeed to
be pitied."
"I did not mean to wound your feelings," returned Elvira, "believe me,
Edmund. Tell me, what is there I can do for you?"
"Nothing!" cried he wildly; "the world is nothing for me now. Pity that
unhappy woman that was my wife; and as for me, forget me!"
"Never!" said Elvira; "for never can I forget your disinterested love
and your devoted affection. The heart, however, is capricious; and
mine, though sensible to your merits, was destined for another."
"And well does that other deserve your love;--for even jealousy itself
must own that Roderick is worthy to be your husband. Yes, to him I
_can_ resign you. Farewell, Elvira! you shall never see me more! Let my
brother take my inheritance! May you be happy! God bless you! God bless
you!"
And starting from his knees, he disappeared, before she could reply.
The spirits of Elvira were agitated by this event, which threw a
damp over the remaining festivities of the day; and, trembling and
unnerved, she proceeded to the magnificent hall, where a sumptuous
banquet was prepared for her reception. For some days after this event,
the attention of Roderick and Elvira was occupied in arranging the
different affairs of the kingdom; whilst Edric and Pauline, with the
old Duke of Cornwall, M. de Mallet, and Father Murphy retired to the
house of the former in the country, where Dr. Entwerfen was already
comfortably established.
A thousand emotions swelled in the heart of Edric as he approached this
venerable mansion, and saw again its well-known turrets peeping through
the trees. Strange, indeed, are the feelings that oppress the mind,
when the wanderer returns, after a long absence, to the habitation
of his forefathers. A mingled crowd of contradictory sensations, of
disappointed hopes, of undefined fears, float through his fancy;
and, as well-remembered objects recall the visions that formerly
delighted him, he starts at the difference the experience of their
fallacy has made in himself, and he sighs in vain for a return of the
blissful ignorance he formerly despised. All too appears changed! As
the human mind judges only by comparison, the eyes become dazzled by
distant splendours, and that which to the eyes of youth had appeared
superb, seems to the maturer judgment of manhood, tame, vapid, and
insipid,--whilst the imagination which had fondly cherished the
favourite dreams of childhood, and decked them in all the vivid colours
of fancy, feels disappointed and disgusted, though it scarce knows why,
to find the reality so different from the image it had pictured to
itself.
Such were the feelings of Edric as he entered the grand hall of this
residence of his ancestors, and gazed upon the well-remembered faces
of the crowd of servants assembled to meet him. At the head of these
was Davis; his tall thin figure waving to and fro, and his long thin
white hair floating upon his shoulders; and the more spruce and gallant
aspects of Abelard and his devoted Eloisa, the late Mrs. Russell, who
had blest him with the possession of her fair hand a few days before,
and now stood blushing and simpering, with all the affected modesty of
a bride of sixty, to receive the congratulations of those around her.
"Welcome! welcome, my dear Edric!" cried Dr. Entwerfen, rushing
down-stairs to meet them, his sleeves tucked up, and his wig thrown
back, in a very experimental-philosophic manner; "rejoice with me
too, for I have recovered my balloon! My darling caoutchouc bottle
of inflammability! My immortalizing snuff, and, more than all, my
adored galvanic battery! Yes, my compendium of science, my epitome of
talent, and my most inestimable treasure, is safe! Not, indeed, that
which was employed in galvanizing the Mummy, but its counterpart, its
duplicate, its prototype. The Mummy came to England, and the balloon
being recognized to be mine, it was placed in my apartment, where it
has remained ever since, stowed up in safe but inglorious obscurity,
till my return."
"Och! and that's a clear case!" said Father Murphy; "and there's no
doubt of it."
Leaving the delighted doctor to show the treasures of his laboratory
to M. de Mallet, Edric retired to his chamber, and after surveying
again and again the well-known objects it contained, he hurried to his
favourite grove.
It is singular how inanimate objects, which have been long unseen,
recall the thoughts and train of feelings indulged in when one last
beheld them: thus, the house, the groves, the walks, the gardens,
and the river, recalled all its former longings to Edric's mind; and
he again burnt to converse with a disembodied spirit, as he entered
the grove where he had formerly so often ruminated, and indulged
dreams wild and improbable as the delusions of delirium. The day was
beautiful; it was one of those bright glowing mornings in April, when
dew drops hang upon every thorn, when the sun shines brightly through
the clear pure air, and all nature seems awaking to new life and vigour
from repose.
Edric entered the grove, and threw himself upon that very bank where he
had reclined only a few months before, under such different feelings.
The river, the grove, the bank, were all the same; he only was changed.
"And yet," said he, "is not my mind still as unsettled as before? Am I
not still wandering in a labyrinth of doubts? Unknowing where to turn;
and yet tormented with a restless desire to discover my way. What can
have become of the Mummy, I so strangely resuscitated? It is strange,
that since the restoration of Elvira it seems to have vanished, and yet
all here speak of it as of a living animated being. Would that I could
see it. O Cheops! Cheops--"
Suddenly a strange unearthly voice seemed to murmur harshly in his
ear--"Go to the Pyramid! There and there only can thy hopes be
gratified." Edric started upon his feet--no one was near him, and not
a sound broke the awful stillness that reigned around, save the gentle
rippling of the river that flowed at his feet. He gazed wildly on every
side, hoping, yet fearing to behold the ghastly being, he fancied
his words had conjured up. It was in vain; no dark figure interposed
between him and the clear bright sunshine; no gloomy shadow stretched
along the plain; all looked gay as youth and happiness; yet still that
awful voice rang in his ears, and thrilled through every nerve.
"I _will_ go the Pyramid," cried he energetically; "I will again enter
that horrid tomb--but I will go alone."
In pursuance of this sudden, but irresistible desire, Edric hastily
prepared to return to Egypt; and feigning that he was called to London
by business of importance, to satisfy the anxious curiosity of Pauline,
he departed. Indescribable emotions throbbed in his bosom as he
took his seat in the stage balloon which was to convey him to Egypt;
but when he saw the towers and temples, and, above all, the pyramids
of this mysterious country, lying beneath his feet, his agitation
increased almost to agony. It was with infinite difficulty that he
obtained permission again to visit the objects of his journey; as,
since the mysterious disappearance of the Mummy, the tomb of Cheops had
been closed from mortal eyes. The interference of the British consul,
however, at length obviated all objections, and Edric (whose impatience
had become absolute torture from the delay) once more entered that
awful receptacle of fallen greatness.
Scarcely a twelvemonth had elapsed since he had last trodden those
solemn vaults, yet what a change had taken place in his destiny! When
he considered the number and variety of the events that had befallen
him, he could scarcely fancy it possible that they had been crowded
into so short a space of time; and, instead of a year, centuries seemed
to have rolled over his head. His feeling of personal identity seemed
confused--his senses became bewildered, and he mechanically followed
his conductor almost without knowing whither he was going.
At last the guide stopped--"This is the tomb of Cheops," said he; "I
suppose, Sir, you will enter it alone."
Edric started--the words of the guide seemed to ring in his ears as the
knell of death, and he shuddered as the thought crossed his mind that
some horrid and appalling punishment might even now await him for his
presumption. Desperately he snatched the torch from the hands of his
guide and advanced ALONE.
Darkly did those gloomy vaults seem to frown at his approach, and
fearfully did his footsteps resound as he slowly penetrated into their
deep recesses. At length, he reached the tomb, but the brazen gates
were closed, and he attempted in vain to open them. He placed the
torch upon the ground, and again tried to unclose the fatal portal;
he exerted his whole strength, but still it resisted his efforts.
Rendered desperate, he now threw himself against the gates with almost
superhuman force. Suddenly a hollow sound murmured through the cavern,
and a current of wind rushed by with mighty and resistless fury. The
brazen gates flew open with a fearful clang, and the torch fell and was
extinguished. The next moment the sepulchral lamp shot forth a faint
gleaming light, which brightened by degrees into a steady flame, whilst
heavenly music sounded faintly upon the ear, dying gradually away in
murmurs, soft as those of the Æolian harp.
The brilliant light of the lamp now glowed with noon-day radiance,
and showed distinctly every corner of the fatal chamber. Edric looked
timidly around, and shuddered as each well-remembered object met his
eyes; but what was his horror and surprise when, glancing at the marble
sarcophagus of Cheops, he beheld the gigantic figure of the Mummy
standing erect beside it! It was again simply wrapped in the garments
of the tomb, and its glassy eyes, rigid features, and statue-like form,
chilled Edric to the heart. He looked at it a few moments in silence,
till it raised its arm and seemed about to address him; when, shrinking
back with indescribable horror, he uttered a faint shriek, and hid his
face in his hands.
"Why dost thou tremble?" asked the Mummy in a deep hollow voice that
thrilled through Edric's very soul. "Didst thou not come here to seek
me, and dost thou shudder to behold my form? I am now before thee. Ask
what thou wilt, I am permitted to reply. Why art thou silent? Why does
thy heart seem to wither in my presence? Alas! alas! is no mortal to be
found free from the debasing influence of fear? Thou art called bold,
courageous, and noble. Thou hast dared to soar above thy fellow-men,
and thou hast ardently wished to see me. Behold I am here, and now,
weak, fearful, and inconsistent as thou art, thou shunnest my approach."
"I do not shun thee," said Edric, removing his hands, and endeavouring
to look calmly on the fearful being before him, though the flesh seemed
to quiver on his bones with the effort--"I do not shun thee; but the
nerves will shrink though the mind be firm. I did wish to see thee;
for ardently do I still desire to know the secrets of the tomb."
Cheops burst into one of his fearful laughs. "Weak, silly worm! are
you not satisfied then? How would this knowledge avail you? Has any
thing but misery attended your former researches? And can any thing but
misery attend the knowledge you now covet? Learn wisdom by experience!
Seek not to pry into secrets denied to man! If you wish still, however,
to be resolved of your doubts, behold me ready to satisfy them; but, I
warn you, wretchedness will wait upon my words."
"Then I no longer seek to hear them; for, even weak as you esteem me,
I can learn wisdom from experience. Thus, then, I tear the tormenting
doubts, that have so long haunted me, from my mind, and bid them
farewell for ever!"
"It is well," said Cheops, his eyes beaming with joy. "Then my task is
accomplished. I have at last found a reasonable man. I honour you, for
you can command yourself, and now you may command me."
"I wish it not," said Edric.
"Have you no curiosity?" asked the Mummy, with a ghastly smile.
"None," returned Edric; "unless it be that I would fain know your
history, and the meaning of the sculptures upon your tomb."
"What are they?" demanded Cheops.
"A youthful warrior is bearing off a beautiful woman in his arms,
whilst an old man laments bitterly in the distance."
"I was the warrior," said Cheops; "and the beautiful female was
Arsinoë. I loved her, and to gratify my impetuous passion I tore her
from the arms of her father by force."
"The warrior is afterwards contending with the old man who falls
beneath his blows--"
"He did, he did," cried Cheops; "he died by my hand; and eternal misery
haunts me for the deed."
"And this old man was--"
"My father!" cried the Mummy, writhing in agony.
"And Arsinoë--"
"My sister--my own, my beloved sister!"
A solemn pause followed this speech, for Edric was too much shocked to
speak again to the awful being who had avowed such crimes, and upon
whose face were traced passions too horrible to be imagined. After a
short silence Cheops again exclaimed--
"Yes, yes; I see your horror, and it is just; but think you that I
do not suffer? know that a fiend--a wild, never-dying fiend rages
here," continued he, pressing his hand upon his breast. "It gnaws my
vitals--it burns with unquenchable fire and never ceasing torment.
Permitted for a time to revisit earth, I have made use of the powers
entrusted to me to assist the good and punish the malevolent. Under
pretence of aiding them, I gave them counsels which only plunged them
yet deeper in destruction, whilst the evil that my advice appeared to
bring upon the good was only like a passing cloud before the sun: it
gave lustre to the success that followed. My task is now finished;--be
happy, Edric, for happiness is in your power; be wise, for wisdom may
be obtained by reflection; and be merciful, for unless we give, how can
we expect mercy? Rely not on your own strength--seek not to pry into
mysteries designed to be concealed from man; and enjoy the comforts
within your reach--for know, that knowledge, above the sphere of man's
capacity, produces only wretchedness; and that to be contented with our
station, and to make ourselves useful to our fellow-creatures, is the
only true path to happiness."
The Mummy ceased to speak, and his features, which had appeared wild
and animated during his conversation with Edric, became fixed--the
unearthly lustre that had flashed from his eyes, faded away, and gave
place to a glassy deadness--his limbs became rigid, and as the light
of the lamp gradually sunk to less distinctness, the ghastly form of
the Mummy seemed rapidly changing into stone. Edric felt that the
moment when it was possible for him to hold communion with this strange
being was rapidly passing away, and almost shrieked as he exclaimed,
"One question! only one ere it be too late." The Mummy feebly raised
his languid eyelids, but Edric felt his blood freeze at the unnatural
glare. With a violent effort, however, he roused himself to speak.
"Was it a human power that dragged you from the tomb?"
"The power that gave me life could alone restore it," replied the Mummy
in slow measured accents, as it sank gradually back into its former
tomb. Edric shuddered, and involuntarily rushed forward, but the Mummy
no longer lived or breathed. Cold, pale, and inanimate it lay, as
though its sleep of two thousand years had never been broken.
"Oblivion laid him down upon his hearse!"
and no mortal ever more could boast of holding converse with THE MUMMY.
THE END.