―110―

For the Literary Magazine.

memoirs of carwin the
biloquist.

Continued from vo. II, page 252.

THE books which composed this
little library were chiefly the voya-
ges and travels of the missionaries
of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries. Added to these were
some works upon political economy
and legislation. Those writers who
have amused themselves with re-
ducing their ideas to practice, and
drawing imaginary pictures of na-
tions or republics, whose manners
or government came up to their
standard of excellence, were, all of
whom I had ever heard, and some
I had never heard of before, to be
found in this collection. A transla-
tion of Aristotle's republic, the poli-
tical romances of sir Thomas
Moore, Harrington, and Hume,
appeared to have been much read,
and Ludlow had not been sparing of
his marginal comments. In these
writers he appeared to find nothing
but error and absurdity; and his
notes were introduced for no other
end than to point out groundless
principles and false conclusions…..
The style of these remarks was al-
ready familiar to me. I saw no-
thing new in them, or different from
the strain of those speculations with
which Ludlow was accustomed to
indulge himself in conversation with
me.

After having turned over the
leaves of the printed volumes, I at
length lighted on a small book of
maps, from which, of course, I could
reasonably expect no information,
on that point about which I was
most curious. It was an atlas, in
which the maps had been drawn by
the pen. None of them contained
any thing remarkable, so far as I,
who was indeed a smatterer in geo-
graphy, was able to perceive, till I
came to the end, when I noticed a
map, whose prototype I was wholly
unacquainted with. It was drawn

―111―

on a pretty large scale, represent-
ing two islands, which bore some
faint resemblance, in their relative
proportions, at least, to Great Bri-
tain and Ireland. In shape they
were widely different, but as to size
there was no scale by which to
measure them. From the great
number of subdivisions, and from
signs, which apparently represented
towns and cities, I was allowed to
infer, that the country was at least
as extensive as the British isles.
This map was apparently unfinish-
ed, for it had no names inscribed
upon it.

I have just said, my geographical
knowledge was imperfect. Though
I had not enough to draw the out-
lines of any country by memory, I
had still sufficient to recognize what
I had before seen, and to discover
that none of the larger islands in
our globe resembled the one before
me. Having such and so strong
motives to curiosity, you may easily
imagine my sensations on surveying
this map. Suspecting, as I did, that
many of Ludlow's intimations al-
luded to a country well known to
him, though unknown to others, I
was, of course, inclined to suppose
that this country was now before
me.

In search of some clue to this
mystery, I carefully inspected the
other maps in this collection. In a
map of the eastern hemisphere I
soon observed the outlines of islands,
which, though on a scale greatly di-
minished, were plainly similar to
that of the land above described.

It is well known that the people
of Europe are strangers to very
nearly one half of the surface of the
globe*. From the south pole up to
the equator, it is only the small
space occupied by southern Africa
and by South America with which
we are acquainted. There is a vast
extent, sufficient to receive a conti-


  * The reader must be reminded that
the incidents of this narrative are sup-
posed to have taken place before the
voyages of Bougainville and Cook.
—editor.



nent as large as North America,
which our ignorance has filled only
with water. In Ludlow's maps no-
thing was still to be seen, in these
regions, but water, except in that
spot where the transverse parallels
of the southern tropic and the 150th
degree east longitude intersect each
other. On this spot were Ludlow's
islands placed, though without any
name or inscription whatever.

I needed not to be told that this
spot had never been explored by
any European voyager, who had
published his adventures. What
authority had Ludlow for fixing a
habitable land in this spot? and why
did he give us nothing but the
courses of shores and rivers, and
the scite of towns and villages, with-
out a name?

As soon as Ludlow had set out up-
on his proposed journey of a fortnight,
I unlocked his closet, and continued
rummaging among these books
and maps till night. By that time
I had turned over every book and
almost every leaf in this small col-
lection, and did not open the closet
again till near the end of that pe-
riod. Meanwhile I had many re-
flections upon this remarkable cir-
cumstance. Could Ludlow have
intended that I should see this atlas?
It was the only book that could be
styled a manuscript on these shelves,
and it was placed beneath several
others, in a situation far from being
obvious and forward to the eye or
the hand. Was it an oversight in
him to leave it in my way, or could
he have intended to lead my curio-
sity and knowledge a little farther
onward by this accidental disclosure?
In either case how was I to regulate
my future deportment toward him?
Was I to speak and act as if this
atlas had escaped my attention or
not? I had already, after my first
examination of it, placed the volume
exactly where I found it. On every
supposition I thought this was the
safest way, and unlocked the closet
a second time, to see that all was
precisely in the original order.….
How was I dismayed and confound-
ed on inspecting the shelves to per-

―112―

ceive that the atlas was gone. This
was a theft, which, from the closet
being under lock and key, and the
key always in my own pocket, and
which, from the very nature of the
thing stolen, could not be imputed
to any of the domestics. After a
few moments a suspicion occurred,
which was soon changed into cer-
tainty by applying to the housekeep-
er, who told me that Ludlow had
returned, apparently in much haste,
the evening of the day on which he
had set out upon his journey, and
just after I had left the house, that
he had gone into the room where
this closet of books was, and, after
a few minutes’ stay, came out again
and went away. She told me also,
that he had made general enquiries
after me, to which she had answer-
ed, that she had not seen me during
the day, and supposed that I had
spent the whole of it abroad. From
this account it was plain, that Lud-
low had returned for no other pur-
pose but to remove this book out of
my reach. But if he had a double
key to this door, what should hinder
his having access, by the same
means, to every other locked up
place in the house?

This suggestion made me start
with terror. Of so obvious a means
for possessing a knowledge of every
thing under his roof, I had never
been till this moment aware. Such
is the infatuation which lays our
most secret thoughts open to the
world's scrutiny. We are frequently
in most danger when we deem our-
selves most safe, and our fortress is
taken sometimes through a point,
whose weakness nothing, it should
seem, but the blindest stupidity could
overlook.

My terrors, indeed, quickly sub-
sided when I came to recollect that
there was nothing in any closet or
cabinet of mine which could possibly
throw light upon subjects which I
desired to keep in the dark. The
more carefully I inspected my own
drawers, and the more I reflected
on the character of Ludlow, as I
had known it, the less reason did
there appear in my suspicions; but

I drew a lesson of caution from this
circumstance, which contributed to
my future safety.

From this incident I could not but
infer Ludlow's unwillingness to let
me so far into his geographical se-
cret, as well as the certainty of that
suspicion, which had very early
been suggested to my thoughts, that
Ludlow's plans of civilization had
been carried into practice in some
unvisited corner of the world. It was
strange, however, that he should be-
tray himself by such an inadvertency.
One who talked so confidently of his
own powers, to unveil any secret of
mine, and, at the same time, to con-
ceal his own transactions, had surely
committed an unpardonable error
in leaving this important document
in my way. My reverence, indeed,
for Ludlow was such, that I some-
times entertained the notion that
this seeming oversight was, in truth,
a regular contrivance to supply me
with a knowledge, of which, when
I came maturely to reflect, it was
impossible for me to make any ill
use. There is no use in relating
what would not be believed; and
should I publish to the world the
existence of islands in the space al-
lotted by Ludlow's maps to these
incognitæ, what would the world
answer? That whether the space
described was sea or land was of no
importance. That the moral and
political condition of its inhabitants
was the only topic worthy of rational
curiosity. Since I had gained no in-
formation upon this point; since I
had nothing to disclose but vain and
fantastic surmises; I might as well
be ignorant of every thing. Thus,
from secretly condemning Ludlow's
imprudence, I gradually passed to
admiration of his policy. This dis-
covery had no other effect than to
stimulate my curiosity; to keep up
my zeal to prosecute the journey
I had commenced under his auspices.

I had hitherto formed a resolution
to stop where I was in Ludlow's con-
fidence: to wait till the success
should be ascertained of my projects
with respect to Mrs. Benington, be-
fore I made any new advance in the

―113―

perilous and mysterious road into
which he had led my steps. But,
before this tedious fortnight had
elapsed, I was grown extremely
impatient for an interview, and had
nearly resolved to undertake what-
ever obligation he should lay upon
me.

This obligation was indeed a
heavy one, since it included the con-
fession of my vocal powers. In it-
self the confession was little. To
possess this faculty was neither lau-
dable nor culpable, nor had it been
exercised in a way which I should
be very much ashamed to acknow-
ledge. It had led me into many in-
sincerities and artifices, which,
though not justifiable by any creed,
was entitled to some excuse, on the
score of youthful ardour and temeri-
ty. The true difficulty in the way
of these confessions was the not hav-
ing made them already. Ludlow
had long been entitled to this confi-
dence, and, though the existence of
this power was venial or wholly in-
nocent, the obstinate concealment of
it was a different matter, and would
certainly expose me to suspicion and
rebuke. But what was the alterna-
tive? To conceal it. To incur
those dreadful punishments award-
ed against treason in this particular.
Ludlow's menaces still rung in my
ears, and appalled my heart. How
should I be able to shun them? By
concealing from every one what I
concealed from him? How was my
concealment of such a faculty to be
suspected or proved? Unless I be-
trayed myself, who could betray
me?

In this state of mind, I resolved
to confess myself to Ludlow in the
way that he required, reserving only
the secret of this faculty. Awful,
indeed, said I, is the crisis of my
fate. If Ludlow's declarations are
true, a horrid catastrophe awaits
me: but as fast as my resolutions
were shaken, they were confirmed
anew by the recollection—Who can
betray me but myself? If I deny,
who is there can prove? Suspicion
can never light upon the truth. If
it does, it can never be converted

into certainty. Even my own lips
cannot confirm it, since who will be-
lieve my testimony?

By such illusions was I fortified in
my desperate resolution. Ludlow
returned at the time appointed. He
informed me that Mrs. Benington
expected me next morning. She
was ready to depart for her country
residence, where she proposed to
spend the ensuing summer, and
would carry me along with her. In
consequence of this arrangement, he
said, many months would elapse be-
fore he should see me again. You
will indeed, continued he, be pretty
much shut up from all society. Your
books and your new friend will be
your chief, if not only companions.
Her life is not a social one, because
she has formed extravagant notions
of the importance of lonely worship
and devout solitude. Much of her
time will be spent in meditation up-
on pious books in her closet. Some
of it in long solitary rides in her
coach, for the sake of exercise.
Little will remain for eating and
sleeping, so that unless you can pre-
vail upon her to violate her ordinary
rules for your sake, you will be left
pretty much to yourself. You will
have the more time to reflect upon
what has hitherto been the theme of
our conversations. You can come
to town when you want to see me.
I shall generally be found in these
apartments.

In the present state of my mind,
though impatient to see Mrs. Be-
nington, I was still more impatient
to remove the veil between Ludlow
and myself. After some pause, I
ventured to enquire if there was
any impediment to my advancement
in the road he had already pointed
out to my curiosity and ambition.

He replied, with great solemnity,
that I was already acquainted with
the next step to be taken in this
road. If I was prepared to make
him my confessor, as to the past, the
present, and the future, without ex-
ception or condition, but what arose
from defect of memory, he was wil-
ling to receive my confession.

I declared myself ready to do so.

―114―

I need not, he returned, remind
you of the consequences of conceal-
ment or deceit. I have already
dwelt upon these consequences. As
to the past, you have already told
me, perhaps, all that is of any mo-
ment to know. It is in relation to
the future that caution will be chiefly
necessary. Hitherto your actions
have been nearly indifferent to the
ends of your future existence. Con-
fessions of the past are required, be-
cause they are an earnest of the fu-
ture character and conduct. Have
you then—but this is too abrupt.
Take an hour to reflect and deliber-
ate. Go by yourself; take yourself
to severe task, and make up your
mind with a full, entire, and unfail-
ing resolution; for the moment in
which you assume this new obliga-
tion will make you a new being.
Perdition or felicity will hang upon
that moment.

This conversation was late in the
evening. After I had consented to
postpone this subject, we parted, he
telling me that he would leave his
chamber door open, and as soon as
my mind was made up I might come
to him.

To be continued.