The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 225: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“ No—no: they were solemn truths * murmured Thurston, whose usually cold and imperturbable manner had become changed into the shuddering agitation of a horrible excitement. ‘“ And the | journals the other morning reported how « ceme- | _Sery was violated in the dead of night—how the qepring-gon placed in that churchyard exploded— , how the monster must have been dangerously “Ah! my God!—then this unhappy being is . the wretched monomaniac who has perpetrated those horrors!” exclaimed the workhouse surgeon, . pointing.in mingled disgust and pity towards the “Tis trae |—'tis true!” cried Melmoth, whose fares had canght the words last uttered: then covering his face with his bands, he exclaimed in a rending tone, * Kill me—kill me, I beseech you: bat do not—oh! do not betray my horrible secret to the world! For the sake of my poor children, do not—I beg and implore you !” “ What in heaven’s name shall we do with him, Thurston ” demanded the workhouse surgeon, in -@ low tone which was rendered tremulous with dread: horror. . “ Thurston !—who said Thurston ?” suddenly yelled forth the invalid, springing up in his couch as if it were a corpse that was galvanised—so hideous was his aspect, and so fearful were the ‘workings of his ghastly countenance. “ Who men- tioned the name of Thurston ?” he demanded again and in a tone of the wildest excitement, his eyes .glaring like those of 9, famished wolf. “My name is Thirston,” said the May Fair practitioner, the horror and loathing which he ex- ‘perienced towards the monster-man being some- what ‘absorbed for the instant by the curiosity which this sudden turn in the proceedings had excited. “Then give me up the body of my babe ?” yelled forth the now almost rabid Melmoth: and, in the furious endeavour which he made to spring from «the bed in order to attack the surgeon, he fell pre- cipitately on the hard floor. » The violence of the concussion deprived him of his senses: but when he awoke to consciousness again, he was in utter darkness. For a few minutes ‘ he lay perfectly still, collecting his thoughts as well as he was able : and slowly, slowly—like the waves - of a long ewell flowing in one after the other when the hurricane has passed over the surface of the ocean—did the tide of memory roll in upon the brain of the monster-man. And soon the rash of recollections became more rapid, more painfal, and more intolerably poignant,—until the surges of memory boiled high and furious; and his whole being appeared to be tossed upon the wild tempest of bis whirling, scaring, dreadfal, goading thoughts. At length, in obedience to an impulse which prompted him to ascertain where he was, he endea- voured to stretch forth his arms to feel through the etter darkness in which he was entozabed: but no— wae powerleas—motioniess ! He felt that he lay like a statue, unable to move a fimb. Nevertheless, his sensations told him that he was ii a bed—and not in a coffin, as he had for an instant dreaded. But was he under the influence of @ hideous nighimare which held him bound hand ond fest? No; fer he could just raise his head an Segh or twe from the bolster by the spontaneous nnn nnn SS motion of the neck; and he was assuredly ewahe— for he could now think of all kinds of subjects—he could direct his ideas into whatever channel he chose —and therefore was it beyond all doubt that he was not asleep. But was he, then, in a trance? No: for he could impart a slight metion at will to his entire frame His limbs were not held powerless by paralysis : they seemed as if held in the bondage of a tight-fitting vesture, the legs of the trousers being fastened to the mattress and the sleeves of the jacket sown to the sides of that garment itself. Ah! a light suddenly flashed in unto his brain: he was a lunatic—or at all events treated as one ;— and the accursed strait-waistcoat was upon him! CHAPTER CLXXVI. THE GERMAN PRENCESS. It was four o'clock in the afternoon of that memo- rable day—and in a splendidly furnished apartment at Saint James’s Palace, sate the Princess Caroline of Brunswick. At a short distance stood an elderly gentleman, with a patrician air and in a full Coart costume, and whose eyes were fixed with an appear- ance of profound respect upon her Royal Highness us she addressed her observations to him. No other persons were present at the time in that saloon—no ladies-in-waiting, no courtiers, no pages ; the Princess and her elderly companion were alone together—for the arrival of the Prince of Wales was now expected every moment. ° Let us pause for a few minutes to give the reader the true portraiture of the Princess Caroline of Brunswick ;—and the result will show that if she were not quite so fascinating as the private emissary of the heir-apparent had depicted in his corre- spondence from Germany, she was at all events very far from being the disgusting creature which the vile, profligate, and unprincipled Countess of Jersey had chosen to represent. The Princess was twenty-five years of age, and rather pretty than handsome. Her countenance expressed a girlish affability and artlessness min- gled with the sweetest good-humour; and it was evident, by the reading of every lineament of her face, that had she been born a peasant instead of a princeas, she would have been the happiest, most joyous, unaffected, and loveable being that ever tripped over meadow or gathered early violets. It was impossible to gaze upon her for a minute with- out feeling a sorrowful conviction that the hoyden gladness and innocent gaiety of the natural mind had been warped, circumscribed, and modelled as it were by the artificial ceremonies and formal ob- servances of a Court. Her hair was of a light auburn, luxuriant, and glossy ; and when worn in simple bands or in ring- lets, without decoration, it was of iteelf as becom- ing an adornment as the most proudly-born could possibly display or as the fairest of the sex could own. The eyes of the Princess were not too large, mor were they bold in expression: they were hand- some eyes—of a fine blue—and reflecting all the goodness of temper and generosity of heart which, being the natural characteristics of the Princess, had survived the contamination of those cold, hol- low, and insincere manners and habits that sur- GOH GOO (COLUM