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MEMOIRS OF CARWIN THE BILOQUIST.................................................................................................1

Charles Brockden Brown .........................................................................................................................1

I was the second son of a farmer, whose place of residence was a western district of Pennsylvania. My eldest

brother seemed fitted by nature for the employment to which he was destined. His wishes never led him

astray from the haystack and the furrow. His ideas never ranged beyond the sphere of his vision, or

suggested the possibility that tomorrow could differ from today. He could read and write, because he had

no alternative between learning the lesson prescribed to him, and punishment. He was diligent, as long as fear

urged him forward, but his exertions ceased with the cessation of this motive. The limits of his acquirements

My character was the reverse of his. My thirst of knowledge was augmented in proportion as it was supplied

with gratification. The more I heard or read, the more restless and unconquerable my curiosity became. My

senses were perpetually alive to novelty, my fancy teemed with visions of the future, and my attention

My father intended that my knowledge should keep pace with that of my brother, but conceived that all

beyond the mere capacity to write and read was useless or pernicious. He took as much pains to keep me

within these limits, as to make the acquisitions of my brother come up to them, but his efforts were not

equally successful in both cases. The most vigilant and jealous scrutiny was exerted in vain: Reproaches and

blows, painful privations and ignominious penances had no power to slacken my zeal and abate my

perseverance. He might enjoin upon me the most laborious tasks, set the envy of my brother to watch me

during the performance, make the most diligent search after my books, and destroy them without mercy,

when they were found; but he could not outroot my darling propensity. I exerted all my powers to elude his

watchfulness. Censures and stripes were sufficiently unpleasing to make me strive to avoid them. To effect

this desirable end, I was incessantly employed in the invention of stratagems and the execution of expedients.

My passion was surely not deserving of blame, and I have frequently lamented the hardships to which it

subjected me; yet, perhaps, the claims which were made upon my ingenuity and fortitude were not without

This contention lasted from the sixth to the fourteenth year of my age. My father's opposition to my schemes

was incited by a sincere though unenlightened desire for my happiness. That all his efforts were secretly

eluded or obstinately repelled, was a source of the bitterest regret. He has often lamented, with tears, what he

called my incorrigible depravity, and encouraged himself to perseverance by the notion of the ruin that would

inevitably overtake me if I were allowed to persist in my present career. Perhaps the sufferings which arose to

In my fourteenth year, events happened which ascertained my future destiny. One evening I had been sent to

bring cows from a meadow, some miles distant from my father's mansion. My time was limited, and I was

menaced with severe chastisement if, according to my custom, I should stay beyond the period assigned.

For some time these menaces rung in my ears, and I went on my way with speed. I arrived at the meadow, but

the cattle had broken the fence and escaped. It was my duty to carry home the earliest tidings of this accident,

but the first suggestion was to examine the cause and manner of this escape. The field was bounded by cedar

railing. Five of these rails were laid horizontally from post to post. The upper one had been broken in the

middle, but the rest had merely been drawn out of the holes on one side, and rested with their ends on the

ground. The means which had been used for this end, the reason why one only was broken, and that one the

uppermost, how a pair of horns could be so managed as to effect that which the hands of man would have

Some accident recalled me from this reverie, and reminded me how much time had thus been consumed. I

was terrified at the consequences of my delay, and sought with eagerness how they might be obviated. I

asked myself if there were not a way back shorter than that by which I had come. The beaten road was

rendered circuitous by a precipice that projected into a neighbouring stream, and closed up a passage by

which the length of the way would have been diminished one half: at the foot of the cliff the water was of

considerable depth, and agitated by an eddy. I could not estimate the danger which I should incur by plunging

into it, but I was resolved to make the attempt. I have reason to think, that this experiment, if it had been

tried, would have proved fatal, and my father, while he lamented my untimely fate, would have been wholly

I turned my steps towards the spot. To reach the edge of the stream was by no means an easy undertaking, so

many abrupt points and gloomy hollows were interposed. I had frequently skirted and penetrated this tract,

but had never been so completely entangled in the maze as now: hence I had remained unacquainted with a

narrow pass, which, at the distance of an hundred yards from the river, would conduct me, though not without

This glen was now discovered, and this discovery induced me to change my plan. If a passage could be here

effected, it would be shorter and safer than that which led through the stream, and its practicability was to be

known only by experiment. The path was narrow, steep, and overshadowed by rocks. The sun was nearly set,

and the shadow of the cliff above, obscured the passage almost as much as midnight would have done: I was

accustomed to despise danger when it presented itself in a sensible form, but, by a defect common in every

one's education, goblins and spectres were to me the objects of the most violent apprehensions. These were

unavoidably connected with solitude and darkness, and were present to my fears when I entered this gloomy

These terrors are always lessened by calling the attention away to some indifferent object. I now made use of

this expedient, and began to amuse myself by hallowing as loud as organs of unusual compass and vigour

would enable me. I utterred the words which chanced to occur to me, and repeated in the shrill tones of a

Mohock savage . . . "Cow! cow! come home! home!" . . . These notes were of course reverberated from the

rocks which on either side towered aloft, but the echo was confused and indistinct.

I continued, for some time, thus to beguile the way, till I reached a space more than commonly abrupt, and

which required all my attention. My rude ditty was suspended till I had surmounted this impediment. In a few

minutes I was at leisure to renew it. After finishing the strain, I paused. In a few seconds a voice as I then

imagined, uttered the same cry from the point of a rock some hundred feet behind me; the same words, with

equal distinctness and deliberation, and in the same tone, appeared to be spoken. I was startled by this

incident, and cast a fearful glance behind, to discover by whom it was uttered. The spot where I stood was

buried in dusk, but the eminences were still invested with a luminous and vivid twilight. The speaker,

I had scarcely begun to wonder at this occurrence, when a new occasion for wonder, was afforded me. A few

seconds, in like manner, elapsed, when my ditty was again rehearsed, with a no less perfect imitation, in a

different quarter. . . . . To this quarter I eagerly turned my eyes, but no one was visible. . . . The station,

indeed, which this new speaker seemed to occupy, was inaccessible to man or beast.

If I were surprized at this second repetition of my words, judge how much my surprise must have been

augmented, when the same calls were a third time repeated, and coming still in a new direction. Five times

was this ditty successively resounded, at intervals nearly equal, always from a new quarter, and with little

A little reflection was sufficient to shew that this was no more than an echo of an extraordinary kind. My

terrors were quickly supplanted by delight. The motives to dispatch were forgotten, and I amused myself for

an hour, with talking to these cliffs: I placed myself in new positions, and exhausted my lungs and my

The pleasures of this new discovery were an ample compensation for the ill treatment which I expected on

my return. By some caprice in my father I escaped merely with a few reproaches. I seized the first

opportunity of again visiting this recess, and repeating my amusement; time, and incessant repetition, could

scarcely lessen its charms or exhaust the variety produced by new tones and new positions.

The hours in which I was most free from interruption and restraint were those of moonlight. My brother and I

occupied a small room above the kitchen, disconnected, in some degree, with the rest of the house. It was the

rural custom to retire early to bed and to anticipate the rising of the sun. When the moonlight was strong

enough to permit me to read, it was my custom to escape from bed, and hie with my book to some

neighbouring eminence, where I would remain stretched on the mossy rock, till the sinking or beclouded

moon, forbade me to continue my employment. I was indebted for books to a friendly person in the

neighbourhood, whose compliance with my solicitations was prompted partly by benevolence and partly by

enmity to my father, whom he could not more egregiously offend than by gratifying my perverse and

In leaving my chamber I was obliged to use the utmost caution to avoid rousing my brother, whose temper

disposed him to thwart me in the least of my gratifications. My purpose was surely laudable, and yet on

leaving the house and returning to it, I was obliged to use the vigilance and circumspection of a thief.

One night I left my bed with this view. I posted first to my vocal glen, and thence scrambling up a

neighbouring steep, which overlooked a wide extent of this romantic country, gave myself up to

My reflections were naturally suggested by the singularity of this echo. To hear my own voice speak at a

distance would have been formerly regarded as prodigious. To hear too, that voice, not uttered by another, by

whom it might easily be mimicked, but by myself! I cannot now recollect the transition which led me to the

notion of sounds, similar to these, but produced by other means than reverberation. Could I not so dispose my

From speculation I proceeded to experiment. The idea of a distant voice, like my own, was intimately present

to my fancy. I exerted myself with a most ardent desire, and with something like a persuasion that I should

succeed. I started with surprise, for it seemed as if success had crowned my attempts. I repeated the effort, but

failed. A certain position of the organs took place on the first attempt, altogether new, unexampled and as it

You will not wonder that I exerted myself with indefatigable zeal to regain what had once, though for so

short a space, been in my power. Your own ears have witnessed the success of these efforts. By perpetual

exertion I gained it a second time, and now was a diligent observer of the circumstances attending it.

Gradually I subjected these finer and more subtle motions to the command of my will. What was at first

difficult, by exercise and habit, was rendered easy. I learned to accommodate my voice to all the varieties of

It cannot be denied that this faculty is wonderful and rare, but when we consider the possible modifications of

muscular motion, how few of these are usually exerted, how imperfectly they are subjected to the will, and

yet that the will is capable of being rendered unlimited and absolute, will not our wonder cease?

We have seen men who could hide their tongues so perfectly that even an Anatomist, after the most accurate

inspection that a living subject could admit, has affirmed the organ to be wanting, but this was effected by the

The concurrence of teeth, palate and tongue, in the formation of speech should seem to be indispensable, and

yet men have spoken distinctly though wanting a tongue, and to whom, therefore, teeth and palate were

superfluous. The tribe of motions requisite to this end, are wholly latent and unknown, to those who possess

I mean not to be more explicit. I have no reason to suppose a peculiar conformation or activity in my own

organs, or that the power which I possess may not, with suitable directions and by steady efforts, be obtained

by others, but I will do nothing to facilitate the acquisition. It is by far, too liable to perversion for a good

There remained but one thing to render this instrument as powerful in my hands as it was capable of being.

From my childhood, I was remarkably skilful at imitation. There were few voices whether of men or birds or

beasts which I could not imitate with success. To add my ancient, to my newly acquired skill, to talk from a

distance, and at the same time, in the accents of another, was the object of my endeavours, and this object,

In my present situation every thing that denoted intellectual exertion was a crime, and exposed me to

invectives if not to stripes. This circumstance induced me to be silent to all others, on the subject of my

discovery. But, added to this, was a confused belief, that it might be made, in some way instrumental to my

relief from the hardships and restraints of my present condition. For some time I was not aware of the mode

My father's sister was an ancient lady, resident in Philadelphia, the relict of a merchant, whose decease left

her the enjoyment of a frugal competence. She was without children, and had often expressed her desire that

her nephew Frank, whom she always considered as a sprightly and promising lad, should be put under her

care. She offered to be at the expense of my education, and to bequeath to me at her death her slender

This arrangement was obstinately rejected by my father, because it was merely fostering and giving scope to

propensities, which he considered as hurtful, and because his avarice desired that this inheritance should fall

to no one but himself. To me, it was a scheme of ravishing felicity, and to be debarred from it was a source of

anguish known to few. I had too much experience of my father's pertinaciousness ever to hope for a change in

his views; yet the bliss of living with my aunt, in a new and busy scene, and in the unbounded indulgence of

my literary passion, continually occupied my thoughts: for a long time these thoughts were productive only

Time only enchanced the desirableness of this scheme; my new faculty would naturally connect itself with

these wishes, and the question could not fail to occur whether it might not aid me in the execution of my

A thousand superstitious tales were current in the family. Apparitions had been seen, and voices had been

heard on a multitude of occasions. My father was a confident believer in supernatural tokens. The voice of his

wife, who had been many years dead, had been twice heard at midnight whispering at his pillow. I frequently

asked myself whether a scheme favourable to my views might not be built upon these foundations. Suppose

(thought I) my mother should be made to enjoin upon him compliance with my wishes?

This idea bred in me a temporary consternation. To imitate the voice of the dead, to counterfeit a commission

from heaven, bore the aspect of presumption and impiety. It seemed an offence which could not fail to draw

after it the vengeance of the deity. My wishes for a time yielded to my fears, but this scheme in proportion as

I meditated on it, became more plausible; no other occurred to me so easy and so efficacious. I endeavoured

to persuade myself that the end proposed, was, in the highest degree praiseworthy, and that the excellence of

My resolutions were, for a time, attended with fluctuations and misgivings. These gradually disappeared, and

my purpose became firm; I was next to devise the means of effecting my views, this did not demand any

tedious deliberation. It was easy to gain access to my father's chamber without notice or detection, cautious

footsteps and the suppression of breath would place me, unsuspected and unthought of, by his bed side. The

words I should use, and the mode of utterance were not easily settled, but having at length selected these, I

made myself by much previous repetition, perfectly familiar with the use of them.

I selected a blustering and inclement night, in which the darkness was augmented by a veil of the blackest

clouds. The building we inhabited was slight in its structure, and full of crevices through which the gale

found easy way, and whistled in a thousand cadences. On this night the elemental music was remarkably

I could not divest myself of secret dread. My heart faultered with a consciousness of wrong. Heaven seemed

to be present and to disapprove my work; I listened to the thunder and the wind, as to the stern voice of this

disapprobation. Big drops stood on my forehead, and my tremors almost incapacitated me from proceeding.

These impediments however I surmounted; I crept up stairs at midnight, and entered my father's chamber.

The darkness was intense and I sought with outstretched hands for his bed. The darkness, added to the

trepidation of my thoughts, disabled me from making a right estimate of distances: I was conscious of this,

I endeavoured to compare the progress I had made with my knowledge of the room, and governed by the

result of this comparison, proceeded cautiously and with hands still outstretched in search of the foot of the

bed. At this moment lightning flashed into the room: the brightness of the gleam was dazzling, yet it afforded

me an exact knowledge of my situation. I had mistaken my way, and discovered that my knees nearly

touched the bedstead, and that my hands at the next step, would have touched my father's cheek. His closed

eyes and every line in his countenance, were painted, as it were, for an instant on my sight.

The flash was accompanied with a burst of thunder, whose vehemence was stunning. I always entertained a

dread of thunder, and now recoiled, overborne with terror. Never had I witnessed so luminous a gleam and so

I stood irresolute and trembling; to prosecute my purpose in this state of mind was impossible. I resolved for

the present to relinquish it, and turned with a view of exploring my way out of the chamber. Just then a light

seen through the window, caught my eye. It was at first weak but speedily increased; no second thought was

necessary to inform me that the barn, situated at a small distance from the house, and newly stored with hay,

My terror at this spectacle made me careless of all consequences relative to myself. I rushed to the bed and

throwing myself on my father, awakened him by loud cries. The family were speedily roused, and were

compelled to remain impotent spectators of the devastation. Fortunately the wind blew in a contrary direction,

The impression that was made upon me by the incidents of that night is indelible. The wind gradually rose

into an hurricane; the largest branches were torn from the trees, and whirled aloft into the air; others were

uprooted and laid prostrate on the ground. The barn was a spacious edifice, consisting wholly of wood, and

filled with a plenteous harvest. Thus supplied with fuel, and fanned by the wind, the fire raged with incredible

fury; meanwhile clouds rolled above, whose blackness was rendered more conspicuous by reflection from the

flames; the vast volumes of smoke were dissipated in a moment by the storm, while glowing fragments and

cinders were borne to an immense hight, and tossed everywhere in wild confusion. Ever and anon the sable

canopy that hung around us was streaked with lightning, and the peals, by which it was accompanied, were

It was, doubtless, absurd to imagine any connexion between this portentous scene and the purpose that I had

meditated, yet a belief of this connexion, though wavering and obscure, lurked in my mind; something more

than a coincidence merely casual, appeared to have subsisted between my situation, at my father's bed side,

and the flash that darted through the window, and diverted me from my design. It palsied my courage, and

After some time had elapsed, and tranquility was, in some degree, restored in the family, my father reverted

to the circumstances in which I had been discovered on the first alarm of this event. The truth was impossible

to be told. I felt the utmost reluctance to be guilty of a falsehood, but by falsehood only could I elude

detection. That my guilt was the offspring of a fatal necessity, that the injustice of others gave it birth and

made it unavoidable, afforded me slight consolation. Nothing can be more injurious than a lie, but its evil

tendency chiefly respects our future conduct. Its direct consequences may be transient and few, but it

facilitates a repetition, strengthens temptation, and grows into habit. I pretended some necessity had drawn

me from my bed, and that discovering the condition of the barn, I hastened to inform my father.

Some time after this, my father summoned me to his presence. I had been previously guilty of disobedience

to his commands, in a matter about which he was usually very scrupulous. My brother had been privy to my

offence, and had threatened to be my accuser. On this occasion I expected nothing but arraignment and

punishment. Weary of oppression, and hopeless of any change in my father's temper and views, I had formed

the resolution of eloping from his house, and of trusting, young as I was, to the caprice of fortune. I was

hesitating whether to abscond without the knowledge of the family, or to make my resolutions known to

them, and while I avowed my resolution, to adhere to it in spite of opposition and remonstrances, when I

I was employed at this time in the field; night was approaching, and I had made no preparation for departure;

all the preparation in my power to make, was indeed small; a few clothes, made into a bundle, was the sum of

my possessions. Time would have little influence in improving my prospects, and I resolved to execute my

I left my work intending to seek my chamber, and taking what was my own, to disappear forever. I turned a

stile that led out of the field into a bye path, when my father appeared before me, advancing in an opposite

direction; to avoid him was impossible, and I summoned my fortitude to a conflict with his passion.

As soon as we met, instead of anger and upbraiding, he told me, that he had been reflecting on my aunt's

proposal, to take me under her protection, and had concluded that the plan was proper; if I still retained my

wishes on that head, he would readily comply with them, and that, if I chose, I might set off for the city next

I shall not dwell on the rapture with which this proposal was listened to: it was with difficulty that I

persuaded myself that he was in earnest in making it, nor could divine the reasons, for so sudden and

unexpected a change in his maxims. . . . These I afterwards discovered. Some one had instilled into him fears,

that my aunt exasperated at his opposition to her request, respecting the unfortunate Frank, would bequeath

her property to strangers; to obviate this evil, which his avarice prompted him to regard as much greater than

any mischief, that would accrue to me, from the change of my abode, he embraced her proposal.

I entered with exultation and triumph on this new scene; my hopes were by no means disappointed. Detested

labour was exchanged for luxurious idleness. I was master of my time, and the chuser of my occupations. My

kinswoman on discovering that I entertained no relish for the drudgery of colleges, and was contented with

the means of intellectual gratification, which I could obtain under her roof, allowed me to pursue my own

Three tranquil years passed away, during which, each day added to my happiness, by adding to my

knowledge. My biloquial faculty was not neglected. I improved it by assiduous exercise; I deeply reflected on

the use to which it might be applied. I was not destitute of pure intentions; I delighted not in evil; I was

incapable of knowingly contributing to another's misery, but the sole or principal end of my endeavours was

I was actuated by ambition. I was delighted to possess superior power; I was prone to manifest that

superiority, and was satisfied if this were done, without much solicitude concerning consequences. I sported

frequently with the apprehensions of my associates, and threw out a bait for their wonder, and supplied them

with occasions for the structure of theories. It may not be amiss to enumerate one or two adventures in which

I had taken much pains to improve the sagacity of a favourite Spaniel. It was my purpose, indeed, to ascertain

to what degree of improvement the principles of reasoning and imitation could be carried in a dog. There is

no doubt that the animal affixes distinct ideas to sounds. What are the possible limits of his vocabulary no

one can tell. In conversing with my dog I did not use English words, but selected simple monosyllables.

Habit likewise enabled him to comprehend my gestures. If I crossed my hands on my breast he understood

the signal and laid down behind me. If I joined my hands and lifted them to my breast, he returned home. If I

grasped one arm above the elbow he ran before me. If I lifted my hand to my forehead he trotted composedly

behind. By one motion I could make him bark; by another I could reduce him to silence. He would howl in

twenty different strains of mournfulness, at my bidding. He would fetch and carry with undeviating

His actions being thus chiefly regulated by gestures, that to a stranger would appear indifferent or casual, it

was easy to produce a belief that the animal's knowledge was much greater than in truth, it was.

One day, in a mixed company, the discourse turned upon the unrivaled abilities of ~~Damon~~. Damon had,

indeed, acquired in all the circles which I frequented, an extraordinary reputation. Numerous instances of his

sagacity were quoted and some of them exhibited on the spot. Much surprise was excited by the readiness

with which he appeared to comprehend sentences of considerable abstraction and complexity, though, he in

reality, attended to nothing but the movements of hand or fingers with which I accompanied my words. I

enhanced the astonishment of some and excited the ridicule of others, by observing that my dog not only

understood English when spoken by others, but actually spoke the language himself, with no small degree of

This assertion could not be admitted without proof; proof, therefore, was readily produced. At a known

signal, Damon began a low interrupted noise, in which the astonished hearers clearly distinguished English

words. A dialogue began between the animal and his master, which was maintained, on the part of the

former, with great vivacity and spirit. In this dialogue the dog asserted the dignity of his species and capacity

of intellectual improvement. The company separated lost in wonder, but perfectly convinced by the evidence

On a subsequent occasion a select company was assembled at a garden, at a small distance from the city.

Discourse glided through a variety of topics, till it lighted at length on the subject of invisible beings. From

the speculations of philosophers we proceeded to the creations of the poet. Some maintained the justness of

Shakspear's delineations of aerial beings, while others denied it. By no violent transition, Ariel and his songs

were introduced, and a lady, celebrated for her musical skill, was solicited to accompany her pedal harp with

the song of "Five fathom deep thy father lies" . . . She was known to have set, for her favourite instrument, all

My youth made me little more than an auditor on this occasion. I sat apart from the rest of the company, and

carefully noted every thing. The track which the conversation had taken, suggested a scheme which was not

She ended and the audience were mute with rapture. The pause continued, when a strain was wafted to our

ears from another quarter. The spot where we sat was embowered by a vine. The verdant arch was lofty and

The sound proceeded from above. At first it was faint and scarcely audible; presently it reached a louder key,

and every eye was cast up in expectation of beholding a face among the pendant clusters. The strain was

easily recognized, for it was no other than that which Ariel is made to sing when finally absolved from the

Their hearts palpitated as they listened: they gazed at each other for a solution of the mystery. At length the

strain died away at distance, and an interval of silence was succeded by an earnest discussion of the cause of

this prodigy. One supposition only could be adopted, which was, that the strain was uttered by human organs.

That the songster was stationed on the roof of the arbour, and having finished his melody had risen into the

I had been invited to spend a week at this house: this period was nearly expired when I received information

that my aunt was suddenly taken sick, and that her life was in imminent danger. I immediately set out on my

This lady was entitled to my gratitude and esteem; I had received the most essential benefits at her hand. I

was not destitute of sensibility, and was deeply affected by this event: I will own, however, that my grief was

lessened by reflecting on the consequences of her death, with regard to my own condition. I had been ever

taught to consider myself as her heir, and her death, therefore, would free me from certain restraints.

My aunt had a female servant, who had lived with her for twenty years: she was married, but her husband,

who was an artizan, lived apart from her: I had no reason to suspect the woman's sincerity and

disinterestedness; but my aunt was no sooner consigned to the grave than a will was produced, in which

It was in vain to urge my expectations and my claims . . . . the instrument was legibly and legally drawn up . .

. . Dorothy was exasperated by my opposition and surmises, and vigorously enforced her title. In a week after

the decease of my kinswoman, I was obliged to seek a new dwelling. As all my property consisted in my

My condition was now calamitous and forlorn. Confiding in the acquisition of my aunt's patrimony, I had

made no other provision for the future; I hated manual labour, or any task of which the object was gain. To be

guided in my choice of occupations by any motive but the pleasure which the occupation was qualified to

This resource was now cut off; the means of immediate subsistence were denied me: If I had determined to

acquire the knowledge of some lucrative art, the acquisition would demand time, and, meanwhile, I was

absolutely destitute of support. My father's house was, indeed, open to me, but I preferred to stifle myself

Some plan it was immediately necessary to adopt. The exigence of my affairs, and this reverse of fortune,

continually occupied my thoughts; I estranged myself from society and from books, and devoted myself to

One morning as I ranged along the bank of Schuylkill, I encountered a person, by name Ludloe, of whom I

had some previous knowledge. He was from Ireland; was a man of some rank and apparently rich: I had met

with him before, but in mixed companies, where little direct intercourse had taken place between us. Our last

Our acquaintance merely justified a transient salutation; but he did not content himself with noticing me as I

passed, but joined me in my walk and entered into conversation. It was easy to advert to the occasion on

which we had last met, and to the mysterious incident which then occurred. I was solicitous to dive into his

thoughts upon this head and put some questions which tended to the point that I wished.

I was somewhat startled when he expressed his belief, that the performer of this mystic strain was one of the

company then present, who exerted, for this end, a faculty not commonly possessed. Who this person was he

did not venture to guess, and could not discover, by the tokens which he suffered to appear, that his

suspicions glanced at me. He expatiated with great profoundness and fertility of ideas, on the uses to which a

faculty like this might be employed. No more powerful engine, he said, could be conceived, by which the

ignorant and credulous might be moulded to our purposes; managed by a man of ordinary talents, it would

His remarks excited in my mind a new strain of thoughts. I had not hitherto considered the subject in this

light, though vague ideas of the importance of this art could not fail to be occasionally suggested: I ventured

to inquire into his ideas of the mode, in which an art like this could be employed, so as to effect the purposes

He dealt chiefly in general representations. Men, he said, believed in the existence and energy of invisible

powers, and in the duty of discovering and conforming to their will. This will was supposed to be sometimes

made known to them through the medium of their senses. A voice coming from a quarter where no attendant

form could be seen would, in most cases, be ascribed to supernal agency, and a command imposed on them,

in this manner, would be obeyed with religious scrupulousness. Thus men might be imperiously directed in

the disposal of their industry, their property, and even of their lives. Men, actuated by a mistaken sense of

duty, might, under this influence, be led to the commission of the most flagitious, as well as the most heroic

acts: If it were his desire to accumulate wealth, or institute a new sect, he should need no other instrument.

I listened to this kind of discourse with great avidity, and regretted when he thought proper to introduce new

topics. He ended by requesting me to visit him, which I eagerly consented to do. When left alone, my

imagination was filled with the images suggested by this conversation. The hopelessness of better fortune,

which I had lately harboured, now gave place to cheering confidence. Those motives of rectitude which

should deter me from this species of imposture, had never been vivid or stable, and were still more weakened

by the artifices of which I had already been guilty. The utility or harmlessness of the end, justified, in my

No event had been more unexpected, by me, than the bequest of my aunt to her servant. The will, under

which the latter claimed, was dated prior to my coming to the city. I was not surprised, therefore, that it had

once been made, but merely that it had never been cancelled or superseded by a later instrument. My wishes

inclined me to suspect the existence of a later will, but I had conceived that, to ascertain its existence, was

Now, however, a different opinion began to be entertained. This woman like those of her sex and class was

unlettered and superstitious. Her faith in spells and apparitions, was of the most lively kind. Could not her

conscience be awakened by a voice from the grave! Lonely and at midnight, my aunt might be introduced,

upbraiding her for her injustice, and commanding her to attone for it by acknowledging the claim of the

True it was, that no subsequent will might exist, but this was the fruit of mistake, or of negligence. She

probably intended to cancel the old one, but this act might, by her own weakness, or by the artifices of her

servant, be delayed till death had put it out of her power. In either case a mandate from the dead could

I considered this woman as the usurper of my property. Her husband as well as herself, were laborious and

covetous; their good fortune had made no change in their mode of living, but they were as frugal and as eager

to accumulate as ever. In their hands, money was inert and sterile, or it served to foster their vices. To take it

from them would, therefore, be a benefit both to them and to myself; not even an imaginary injury would be

inflicted. Restitution, if legally compelled to it, would be reluctant and painful, but if enjoined by Heaven

would be voluntary, and the performance of a seeming duty would carry with it, its own reward.

These reasonings, aided by inclination, were sufficient to determine me. I have no doubt but their fallacy

would have been detected in the sequel, and my scheme have been productive of nothing but confusion and

remorse. From these consequences, however, my fate interposed, as in the former instance, to save me.

Having formed my resolution, many preliminaries to its execution were necessary to be settled. These

demanded deliberation and delay; meanwhile I recollected my promise to Ludlow, and paid him a visit. I met

a frank and affectionate reception. It would not be easy to paint the delight which I experienced in this man's

society. I was at first oppressed with the sense of my own inferiority in age, knowledge and rank. Hence

arose numberless reserves and incapacitating diffidences; but these were speedily dissipated by the

fascinations of this man's address. His superiority was only rendered, by time, more conspicuous, but this

superiority, by appearing never to be present to his own mind, ceased to be uneasy to me. My questions

required to be frequently answered, and my mistakes to be rectified; but my keenest scrutiny, could detect in

his manner, neither arrogance nor contempt. He seemed to talk merely from the overflow of his ideas, or a

My visits gradually became more frequent. Meanwhile my wants increased, and the necessity of some change

in my condition became daily more urgent. This incited my reflections on the scheme which I had formed.

The time and place suitable to my design, were not selected without much anxious inquiry and frequent

waverings of purpose. These being at length fixed, the interval to elapse, before the carrying of my design

into effect, was not without perturbation and suspense. These could not be concealed from my new friend and

It was not possible to communicate the whole truth; but the warmth of his manner inspired me with some

degree of ingenuousness. I did not hide from him my former hopes and my present destitute condition. He

listened to my tale with no expressions of sympathy, and when I had finished, abruptly inquired whether I

had any objection to a voyage to Europe? I answered in the negative. He then said that he was preparing to

This unexpected proposal gave me pleasure and surprize, but the want of money occurred to me as an

insuperable objection. On this being mentioned, Oho! said he, carelessly, that objection is easily removed, I

The extraordinary beneficence of this act as well as the air of uncautiousness attending it, made me doubt the

sincerity of his offer, and when new declarations removed this doubt, I could not forbear expressing at once

He replied that generosity had been expunged from his catalogue as having no meaning or a vicious one. It

was the scope of his exertions to be just. This was the sum of human duty, and he that fell short, ran beside,

or outstripped justice was a criminal. What he gave me was my due or not my due. If it were my due, I might

reasonably demand it from him and it was wicked to withhold it. Merit on one side or gratitude on the other,

If I were fully convinced that this benefit was not my due and yet received it, he should hold me in contempt.

The rectitude of my principles and conduct would be the measure of his approbation, and no benefit should

he ever bestow which the receiver was not entitled to claim, and which it would not be criminal in him to

These principles were not new from the mouth of Ludloe, but they had, hitherto, been regarded as the fruits

of a venturous speculation in my mind. I had never traced them into their practical consequences, and if his

conduct on this occasion had not squared with his maxims, I should not have imputed to him inconsistency. I

did not ponder on these reasonings at this time: objects of immediate importance engrossed my thoughts.

One obstacle to this measure was removed. When my voyage was performed how should I subsist in my new

abode? I concealed not my perplexity and he commented on it in his usual manner. How did I mean to

subsist, he asked, in my own country? The means of living would be, at least, as much within my reach there

as here. As to the pressure of immediate and absolute want, he believed I should be exposed to little hazard.

With talents such as mine, I must be hunted by a destiny peculiarly malignant, if I could not provide myself

He would make allowances, however, for my diffidence and selfdistrust, and would obviate my fears by

expressing his own intentions with regard to me. I must be apprized, however, of his true meaning. He

laboured to shun all hurtful and vitious things, and therefore carefully abstained from making or confiding

~~in promises~~. It was just to assist me in this voyage, and it would probably be equally just to continue to

me similar assistance when it was finished. That indeed was a subject, in a great degree, within my own

cognizance. His aid would be proportioned to my wants and to my merits, and I had only to take care that my

This scheme could not but appear to me eligible. I thirsted after an acquaintance with new scenes; my present

situation could not be changed for a worse; I trusted to the constancy of Ludloe's friendship; to this at least it

was better to trust than to the success of my imposture on Dorothy, which was adopted merely as a desperate

In the course of this voyage my mind was busily employed. There were no other passengers beside ourselves,

so that my own condition and the character of Ludloe, continually presented themselves to my reflections. It

There were no vicissitudes in the deportment or lapses in the discourse of my friend. His feelings appeared to

preserve an unchangeable tenor, and his thoughts and words always to flow with the same rapidity. His

slumber was profound and his wakeful hours serene. He was regular and temperate in all his exercises and

This treatment of me, like all his other mental and corporal operations, was modelled by one inflexible

standard. Certain scruples and delicacies were incident to my situation. Of the existence of these he seemed to

be unconscious, and yet nothing escaped him inconsistent with a state of absolute equality.

I was naturally inquisitive as to his fortune and the collateral circumstances of his condition. My notions of

politeness hindered me from making direct inquiries. By indirect means I could gather nothing but that his

state was opulent and independent, and that he had two sisters whose situation resembled his own.

Though, in conversation, he appeared to be governed by the utmost candour; no light was let in upon the

former transactions of his life. The purpose of his visit to America I could merely guess to be the gratification

My future pursuits must be supposed chiefly to occupy my attention. On this head I was destitute of all

stedfast views. Without profession or habits of industry or sources of permanent revenue, the world appeared

to me an ocean on which my bark was set afloat, without compass or sail. The world into which I was about

to enter, was untried and unknown, and though I could consent to profit by the guidance I was unwilling to

This topic being nearest my heart, I frequently introduced into conversation with my friend; but on this

subject he always allowed himself to be led by me, while on all others, he was zealous to point the way. To

every scheme that I proposed he was sure to cause objections. All the liberal professions were censured as

perverting the understanding, by giving scope to the sordid motive of gain, or embuing the mind with

erroneous principles. Skill was slowly obtained, and success, though integrity and independence must be

given for it, dubious and instable. The mechanical trades were equally obnoxious; they were vitious by

contributing to the spurious gratifications of the rich and multiplying the objects of luxury; they were

destruction to the intellect and vigor of the artizan; they enervated his frame and brutalized his mind.

When I pointed out to him the necessity of some species of labour, he tacitly admitted that necessity, but

refused to direct me in the choice of a pursuit, which though not free from defect should yet have the fewest

inconveniences. He dwelt on the fewness of our actual wants, the temptations which attend the possession of

wealth, the benefits of seclusion and privacy, and the duty of unfettering our minds from the prejudices which

His discourse tended merely to unsettle my views and increase my perplexity. This effect was so uniform that

I at length desisted from all allusions to this theme and endeavoured to divert my own reflections from it.

When our voyage should be finished, and I should actually tread this new stage, I believed that I should be

At length we reached Belfast. From thence we immediately repaired to Dublin. I was admitted as a member

of his family. When I expressed my uncertainty as to the place to which it would be proper for me to repair,

he gave me a blunt but cordial invitation to his house. My circumstances allowed me no option and I readily

complied. My attention was for a time engrossed by a diversified succession of new objects. Their novelty

however disappearing, left me at liberty to turn my eyes upon myself and my companion, and here my

His house was spacious and commodious, and furnished with profusion and elegance. A suit of apartments

was assigned to me, in which I was permitted to reign uncontroled and access was permitted to a well

furnished library. My food was furnished in my own room, prepared in the manner which I had previously

directed. Occasionally Ludloe would request my company to breakfast, when an hour was usually consumed

in earnest or sprightly conversation. At all other times he was invisible, and his apartments, being wholly

separate from mine, I had no opportunity of discovering in what way his hours were employed.

He defended this mode of living as being most compatible with liberty. He delighted to expatiate on the evils

of cohabitation. Men, subjected to the same regimen, compelled to eat and sleep and associate at certain

hours, were strangers to all rational independence and liberty. Society would never be exempt from servitude

and misery, till those artificial ties which held human beings together under the same roof were dissolved. He

endeavoured to regulate his own conduct in pursuance of these principles, and to secure to himself as much

freedom as the present regulations of society would permit. The same independence which he claimed for

himself he likewise extended to me. The distribution of my own time, the selection of my own occupations

But these privileges, though while listening to his arguments I could not deny them to be valuable, I would

have willingly dispensed with. The solitude in which I lived became daily more painful. I ate and drank,

enjoyed clothing and shelter, without the exercise of forethought or industry; I walked and sat, went out and

returned for as long and at what seasons I thought proper, yet my condition was a fertile source of discontent.

I felt myself removed to a comfortless and chilling distance from Ludloe. I wanted to share in his occupations

and views. With all his ingenuousness of aspect and overflow of thoughts, when he allowed me his company,

I felt myself painfully bewildered with regard to his genuine condition and sentiments.

He had it in his power to introduce me to society, and without an introduction, it was scarcely possible to gain

access to any social circle or domestic fireside. Add to this, my own obscure prospects and dubious situation.

Some regular intellectual pursuit would render my state less irksome, but I had hitherto adopted no scheme of

Time tended, in no degree, to alleviate my dissatisfaction. It increased till the determination became at length

formed of opening my thoughts to Ludloe. At the next breakfast interview which took place, I introduced the

subject, and expatiated without reserve, on the state of my feelings. I concluded with entreating him to point

out some path in which my talents might be rendered useful to himself or to mankind.

After a pause of some minutes, he said, What would you do? You forget the immaturity of your age. If you

are qualified to act a part in the theatre of life, step forth; but you are not qualified. You want knowledge, and

with this you ought previously to endow yourself. . . . . Means, for this end, are within your reach. Why

should you waste your time in idleness, and torment yourself with unprofitable wishes? Books are at hand . . .

. books from which most sciences and languages can be learned. Read, analise, digest; collect facts, and

investigate theories: ascertain the dictates of reason, and supply yourself with the inclination and the power to

adhere to them. You will not, legally speaking, be a man in less than three years. Let this period be devoted to

the acquisition of wisdom. Either stay here, or retire to an house I have on the banks of Killarney, where you

I could not but reflect with wonder at this man's treatment of me. I could plead none of the rights of

relationship; yet I enjoyed the privileges of a son. He had not imparted to me any scheme, by pursuit of which

I might finally compensate him for the expense to which my maintenance and education would subject him.

He gave me reason to hope for the continuance of his bounty. He talked and acted as if my fortune were

totally disjoined from his; yet was I indebted to him for the morsel which sustained my life. Now it was

proposed to withdraw myself to studious leisure, and romantic solitude. All my wants, personal and

intellectual, were to be supplied gratuitously and copiously. No means were prescribed by which I might

make compensation for all these benefits. In conferring them he seemed to be actuated by no view to his own

I suffered these thoughts to escape me, on this occasion, and observed that to make my application

successful, or useful, it was necessary to pursue some end. I must look forward to some post which I might

hereafter occupy beneficially to myself or others; and for which all the efforts of my mind should be bent to

These hints gave him visible pleasure; and now, for the first time, he deigned to advise me on this head. His

scheme, however, was not suddenly produced. The way to it was circuitous and long. It was his business to

make every new step appear to be suggested by my own reflections. His own ideas were the seeming result of

the moment, and sprung out of the last idea that was uttered. Being hastily taken up, they were, of course,

liable to objection. These objections, sometimes occurring to me and sometimes to him, were admitted or

contested with the utmost candour. One scheme went through numerous modifications before it was proved

to be ineligible, or before it yielded place to a better. It was easy to perceive, that books alone were

insufficient to impart knowledge: that man must be examined with our own eyes to make us acquainted with

their nature: that ideas collected from observation and reading, must correct and illustrate each other: that the

value of all principles, and their truth, lie in their practical effects. Hence, gradually arose, the usefulness of

travelling, of inspecting the habits and manners of a nation, and investigating, on the spot, the causes of their

happiness and misery. Finally, it was determined that Spain was more suitable than any other, to the views of

My language, habits, and religion were mentioned as obstacles to close and extensive views; but these

difficulties successively and slowly vanished. Converse with books, and natives of Spain, a steadfast purpose

and unwearied diligence would efface all differences between me and a Castilian with respect to speech.

Personal habits, were changeable, by the same means. The bars to unbounded intercourse, rising from the

religion of Spain being irreconcilably opposite to mine, cost us no little trouble to surmount, and here the skill

I had been accustomed to regard as unquestionable, the fallacy of the Romish faith. This persuasion was

habitual and the child of prejudice, and was easily shaken by the artifices of this logician. I was first led to

bestow a kind of assent on the doctrines of the Roman church; but my convictions were easily subdued by a

new species of argumentation, and, in a short time, I reverted to my ancient disbelief, so that, if an exterior

conformity to the rights of Spain were requisite to the attainment of my purpose, that conformity must be

My moral principles had hitherto been vague and unsettled. My circumstances had led me to the frequent

practice of insincerity; but my transgressions as they were slight and transient, did not much excite my

previous reflections, or subsequent remorse. My deviations, however, though rendered easy by habit, were by

no means sanctioned by my principles. Now an imposture, more profound and deliberate, was projected; and

I could not hope to perform well my part, unless steadfastly and thoroughly persuaded of its rectitude.

My friend was the eulogist of sincerity. He delighted to trace its influence on the happiness of mankind; and

proved that nothing but the universal practice of this virtue was necessary to the perfection of human society.

His doctrine was splendid and beautiful. To detect its imperfections was no easy task; to lay the foundations

of virtue in utility, and to limit, by that scale, the operation of general principles; to see that the value of

sincerity, like that of every other mode of action, consisted in its tendency to good, and that, therefore the

obligation to speak truth was not paramount or intrinsical: that my duty is modelled on a knowledge and

foresight of the conduct of others; and that, since men in their actual state, are infirm and deceitful, a just

estimate of consequences may sometimes make dissimulation my duty were truths that did not speedily

occur. The discovery, when made, appeared to be a joint work. I saw nothing in Ludlow but proofs of

The means which this man employed to fit me for his purpose, perhaps owed their success to my youth and

ignorance. I may have given you exaggerated ideas of his dexterity and address. Of that I am unable to judge.

Certain it is, that no time or reflection has abated my astonishment at the profoundness of his schemes, and

the perseverance with which they were pursued by him. To detail their progress would expose me to the risk

of being tedious, yet none but minute details would sufficiently display his patience and subtlety.

It will suffice to relate, that after a sufficient period of preparation and arrangements being made for

maintaining a copious intercourse with Ludlow, I embarked for Barcelona. A restless curiosity and vigorous

application have distinguished my character in every scene. Here was spacious field for the exercise of all my

energies. I sought out a preceptor in my new religion. I entered into the hearts of priests and confessors, the

~hidalgo~ and the peasant, the monk and the prelate, the austere and voluptuous devotee were scrutinized in

Man was the chief subject of my study, and the social sphere that in which I principally moved; but I was not

inattentive to inanimate nature, nor unmindful of the past. If the scope of virtue were to maintain the body in

health, and to furnish its highest enjoyments to every sense, to increase the number, and accuracy, and order

of our intellectual stores, no virtue was ever more unblemished than mine. If to act upon our conceptions of

right, and to acquit ourselves of all prejudice and selfishness in the formation of our principles, entitle us to

I shall not pretend to ascertain my rank in the moral scale. Your notions of duty differ widely from mine. If a

system of deceit, pursued merely from the love of truth; if voluptuousness, never gratified at the expense of

health, may incur censure, I am censurable. This, indeed, was not the limit of my deviations. Deception was

often unnecessarily practised, and my biloquial faculty did not lie unemployed. What has happened to

yourselves may enable you, in some degree, to judge of the scenes in which my mystical exploits engaged

me. In none of them, indeed, were the effects equally disastrous, and they were, for the most part, the result

To recount these would be an endless task. They were designed as mere specimens of power, to illustrate the

influence of superstition: to give sceptics the consolation of certainty: to annihilate the scruples of a tender

The first achievement of this kind took place in the convent of the Escurial. For some time the hospitality of

this brotherhood allowed me a cell in that magnificent and gloomy fabric. I was drawn hither chiefly by the

treasures of Arabian literature, which are preserved here in the keeping of a learned Maronite, from Lebanon.

Standing one evening on the steps of the great altar, this devout friar expatiated on the miraculous evidences

of his religion; and, in a moment of enthusiasm, appealed to San Lorenzo, whose martyrdom was displayed

before us. No sooner was the appeal made than the saint, obsequious to the summons, whispered his

responses from the shrine, and commanded the heretic to tremble and believe. This event was reported to the

convent. With whatever reluctance, I could not refuse my testimony to its truth, and its influence on my faith

A lady of rank, in Seville, who had been guilty of many unauthorized indulgences, was, at last, awakened to

remorse, by a voice from Heaven, which she imagined had commanded her to expiate her sins by an

abstinence from all food for thirty days. Her friends found it impossible to outroot this persuasion, or to

overcome her resolution even by force. I chanced to be one in a numerous company where she was present.

This fatal illusion was mentioned, and an opportunity afforded to the lady of defending her scheme. At a

pause in the discourse, a voice was heard from the ceiling, which confirmed the truth of her tale; but, at the

same time revoked the command, and, in consideration of her faith, pronounced her absolution. Satisfied with

this proof, the auditors dismissed their unbelief, and the lady consented to eat.

In the course of a copious correspondence with Ludlow, the observations I had collected were given. A

sentiment, which I can hardly describe, induced me to be silent on all adventures connected with my bivocal

projects. On other topics, I wrote fully, and without restraint. I painted, in vivid hues, the scenes with which I

was daily conversant, and pursued, fearlessly, every speculation on religion and government that occurred.

This spirit was encouraged by Ludloe, who failed not to comment on my narrative, and multiply deductions

He taught me to ascribe the evils that infest society to the errors of opinion. The absurd and unequal

distribution of power and property gave birth to poverty and riches, and these were the sources of luxury and

crimes. These positions were readily admitted; but the remedy for these ills, the means of rectifying these

errors were not easily discovered. We have been inclined to impute them to inherent defects in the moral

constitution of men: that oppression and tyranny grow up by a sort of natural necessity, and that they will

perish only when the human species is extinct. Ludloe laboured to prove that this was, by no means, the case:

that man is the creature of circumstances: that he is capable of endless improvement: that his progress has

been stopped by the artificial impediment of government: that by the removal of this, the fondest dreams of

From detailing and accounting for the evils which exist under our present institutions, he usually proceeded

to delineate some scheme of Utopian felicity, where the empire of reason should supplant that of force: where

justice should be universally understood and practised; where the interest of the whole and of the individual

should be seen by all to be the same; where the public good should be the scope of all activity; where the

tasks of all should be the same, and the means of subsistence equally distributed.

No one could contemplate his pictures without rapture. By their comprehensiveness and amplitude they filled

the imagination. I was unwilling to believe that in no region of the world, or at no period could these ideas be

realized. It was plain that the nations of Europe were tending to greater depravity, and would be the prey of

perpetual vicissitude. All individual attempts at their reformation would be fruitless. He therefore who

desired the diffusion of right principles, to make a just system be adopted by a whole community, must

In this state of mind I recollected my native country, where a few colonists from Britain had sown the germe

of populous and mighty empires. Attended, as they were, into their new abode, by all their prejudices, yet

such had been the influence of new circumstances, of consulting for their own happiness, of adopting simple

forms of government, and excluding nobles and kings from their system, that they enjoyed a degree of

To conquer the prejudices and change the habits of millions, are impossible. The human mind, exposed to

social influences, inflexibly adheres to the direction that is given to it; but for the same reason why men, who

begin in error will continue, those who commence in truth, may be expected to persist. Habit and example

Let a few, sufficiently enlightened and disinterested, take up their abode in some unvisited region. Let their

social scheme be founded in equity, and how small soever their original number may be, their growth into a

nation is inevitable. Among other effects of national justice, was to be ranked the swift increase of numbers.

Exempt from servile obligations and perverse habits, endowed with property, wisdom, and health. Hundreds

will expand, with inconceivable rapidity into thousands and thousands, into millions; and a new race, tutored

Such were the visions of youth! I could not banish them from my mind. I knew them to be crude; but

believed that deliberation would bestow upon them solidity and shape. Meanwhile I imparted them to Ludloe.

In answer to the reveries and speculations which I sent to him respecting this subject, Ludloe informed me,

that they had led his mind into a new sphere of meditation. He had long and deeply considered in what way

he might essentially promote my happiness. He had entertained a faint hope that I would one day be qualified

for a station like that to which he himself had been advanced. This post required an elevation and stability of

views which human beings seldom reach, and which could be attained by me only by a long series of heroic

labours. Hitherto every new stage in my intellectual progress had added vigour to his hopes, and he cherished

a stronger belief than formerly that my career would terminate auspiciously. This, however, was necessarily

distant. Many preliminaries must first be settled; many arduous accomplishments be first obtained; and my

virtue be subjected to severe trials. At present it was not in his power to be more explicit; but if my

reflections suggested no better plan, he advised me to settle my affairs in Spain, and return to him

immediately. My knowledge of this country would be of the highest use, on the supposition of my ultimately

arriving at the honours to which he had alluded; and some of these preparatory measures could be taken only

This intimation was eagerly obeyed, and, in a short time, I arrived at Dublin. Meanwhile my mind had

copious occupation in commenting on my friend's letter. This scheme, whatever it was, seemed to be

suggested by my mention of a plan of colonization, and my preference of that mode of producing extensive

and permanent effects on the condition of mankind. It was easy therefore to conjecture that this mode had

It had always excited my wonder that so obvious an expedient had been overlooked. The globe which we

inhabit was very imperfectly known. The regions and nations unexplored, it was reasonable to believe,

surpassed in extent, and perhaps in populousness, those with which we were familiar. The order of Jesuits

had furnished an example of all the errors and excellencies of such a scheme. Their plan was founded on

erroneous notions of religion and policy, and they had absurdly chosen a scene* within reach of the injustice

It was wise and easy to profit by their example. Resting on the two props of fidelity and zeal, an association

might exist for ages in the heart of Europe, whose influence might be felt, and might be boundless, in some

region of the southern hemisphere; and by whom a moral and political structure might be raised, the growth

of pure wisdom, and totally unlike those fragments of Roman and Gothic barbarism, which cover the face of

what are called the civilized nations. The belief now rose in my mind that some such scheme had actually

been prosecuted, and that Ludloe was a coadjutor. On this supposition, the caution with which he approached

to his point, the arduous probation which a candidate for a part on this stage must undergo, and the rigours of

that test by which his fortitude and virtue must be tried, were easily explained. I was too deeply imbued with

veneration for the effects of such schemes, and too sanguine in my confidence in the rectitude of Ludloe, to

refuse my concurrence in any scheme by which my qualifications might at length be raised to a due point.

Our interview was frank and affectionate. I found him situated just as formerly. His aspect, manners, and

deportment were the same. I entered once more on my former mode of life, but our intercourse became more

frequent. We constantly breakfasted together, and our conversation was usually prolonged through half the

For a time our topics were general. I thought proper to leave to him the introduction of more interesting

themes: this, however, he betrayed no inclination to do. His reserve excited some surprise, and I began to

suspect that whatever design he had formed with regard to me, had been laid aside. To ascertain this question,

I ventured, at length, to recall his attention to the subject of his last letter, and to enquire whether subsequent

He said that his views were too momentous to be hastily taken up, or hastily dismissed; the station, my

attainment of which depended wholly on myself, was high above vulgar heads, and was to be gained by years

of solicitude and labour. This, at least, was true with regard to minds ordinarily constituted; I, perhaps,

deserved to be regarded as an exception, and might be able to accomplish in a few months that for which

Man, continued he, is the slave of habit. Convince him today that his duty leads straight forward: he shall

advance, but at every step his belief shall fade; habit will resume its empire, and tomorrow he shall turn back,

We know not our strength till it be tried. Virtue, till confirmed by habit, is a dream. You are a man imbued by

errors, and vincible by slight temptations. Deep enquiries must bestow light on your opinions, and the habit

of encountering and vanquishing temptation must inspire you with fortitude. Till this be done, you are

unqualified for that post, in which you will be invested with divine attributes, and prescribe the condition of a

Confide not in the firmness of your principles, or the stedfastness of your integrity. Be always vigilant and

fearful. Never think you have enough of knowledge, and let not your caution slumber for a moment, for you

I acknowledged the justice of his admonitions, and professed myself willing to undergo any ordeal which

reason should prescribe. What, I asked, were the conditions, on the fulfilment of which depended my

advancement to the station he alluded to? Was it necessary to conceal from me the nature and obligations of

These enquiries sunk him more profoundly into meditation than I had ever before witnessed. After a pause, in

I scarcely know what to say. As to promises, I claim them not from you. We are now arrived at a point, in

which it is necessary to look around with caution, and that consequences should be fully known. A number of

persons are leagued together for an end of some moment. To make yourself one of these is submitted to your

Their existence depends upon this: their existence is known only to themselves. This secrecy must be

obtained by all the means which are possible. When I have said thus much, I have informed you, in some

degree, of their existence, but you are still ignorant of the purpose contemplated by this association, and of all

the members, except myself. So far no dangerous disclosure is yet made: but this degree of concealment is

not sufficient. Thus much is made known to you, because it is unavoidable. The individuals which compose

this fraternity are not immortal, and the vacancies occasioned by death must be supplied from among the

living. The candidate must be instructed and prepared, and they are always at liberty to recede. Their reason

must approve the obligations and duties of their station, or they are unfit for it. If they recede, one duty is still

incumbent upon them: they must observe an inviolable silence. To this they are not held by any promise.

They must weigh consequences, and freely decide; but they must not fail to number among these

Their death will not be prompted by vengeance. The executioner will say, he that has once revealed the tale is

likely to reveal it a second time; and, to prevent this, the betrayer must die. Nor is this the only consequence:

to prevent the further revelation, he, to whom the secret was imparted, must likewise perish. He must not

console himself with the belief that his trespass will be unknown. The knowledge cannot, by human means,

be withheld from this fraternity. Rare, indeed, will it be that his purpose to disclose is not discovered before it

Be well aware of your condition. What I now, or may hereafter mention, mention not again. Admit not even a

doubt as to the propriety of hiding it from all the world. There are eyes who will discern this doubt amidst the

At present be the subject dismissed. Reflect deeply on the duty which you have already incurred. Think upon

your strength of mind, and be careful not to lay yourself under impracticable obligations. It will always be in

your power to recede. Even after you are solemnly enrolled a member, you may consult the dictates of your

own understanding, and relinquish your post; but while you live, the obligation to be silent will perpetually

We seek not the misery or death of any one, but we are swayed by an immutable calculation. Death is to be

abhorred, but the life of the betrayer is productive of more evil than his death: his death, therefore, we chuse,

I love you. The first impulse of my love is to dissuade you from seeking to know more. Your mind will be

full of ideas; your hands will be perpetually busy to a purpose into which no human creature, beyond the

verge of your brotherhood, must pry. Believe me, who have made the experiment, that compared with this

task, the task of inviolable secrecy, all others are easy. To be dumb will not suffice; never to know any

remission in your zeal or your watchfulness will not suffice. If the sagacity of others detect your occupations,

however strenuously you may labour for concealment, your doom is ratified, as well as that of the wretch

Yet if your fidelity fail not, great will be your recompence. For all your toils and selfdevotion, ample will be

the retribution. Hitherto you have been wrapt in darkness and storm; then will you be exalted to a pure and

unruffled element. It is only for a time that temptation will environ you, and your path will be toilsome. In a

few years you will be permitted to withdraw to a land of sages, and the remainder of your life will glide away

Think deeply on what I have said. Investigate your own motives and opinions, and prepare to submit them to

Here my friend passed to a new topic. I was desirous of reverting to this subject, and obtaining further

information concerning it, but he assiduously repelled all my attempts, and insisted on my bestowing deep

and impartial attention on what had already been disclosed. I was not slow to comply with his directions. My

As yet I had no glimpse of the nature of this fraternity. I was permitted to form conjectures, and previous

incidents bestowed but one form upon my thoughts. In reviewing the sentiments and deportment of Ludloe,

my belief continually acquired new strength. I even recollected hints and ambiguous allusions in his

discourse, which were easily solved, on the supposition of the existence of a new model of society, in some

I did not fully perceive the necessity of secrecy; but this necessity perhaps would be rendered apparent, when

I should come to know the connection that subsisted between Europe and this imaginary colony. But what

was to be done? I was willing to abide by these conditions. My understanding might not approve of all the

ends proposed by this fraternity, and I had liberty to withdraw from it, or to refuse to ally myself with them.

That the obligation of secrecy should still remain, was unquestionably reasonable.

It appeared to be the plan of Ludloe rather to damp than to stimulate my zeal. He discouraged all attempts to

renew the subject in conversation. He dwelt upon the arduousness of the office to which I aspired, the

temptations to violate my duty with which I should be continually beset, the inevitable death with which the

slightest breach of my engagements would be followed, and the long apprenticeship which it would be

necessary for me to serve, before I should be fitted to enter into this conclave.

Sometimes my courage was depressed by these representations. . . . . . My zeal, however, was sure to revive;

and at length Ludloe declared himself willing to assist me in the accomplishment of my wishes. For this end,

it was necessary, he said, that I should be informed of a second obligation, which every candidate must

assume. Before any one could be deemed qualified, he must be thoroughly known to his associates. For this

end, he must determine to disclose every fact in his history, and every secret of his heart. I must begin with

making these confessions with regard to my past life, to Ludloe, and must continue to communicate, at stated

seasons, every new thought, and every new occurrence, to him. This confidence was to be absolutely

limitless: no exceptions were to be admitted, and no reserves to be practised; and the same penalty attended

the infraction of this rule as of the former. Means would be employed, by which the slightest deviation, in

either case, would be detected, and the deathful consequence would follow with instant and inevitable

expedition. If secrecy were difficult to practise, sincerity, in that degree in which it was here demanded, was a

task infinitely more arduous, and a period of new deliberation was necessary before I should decide. I was at

liberty to pause: nay, the longer was the period of deliberation which I took, the better; but, when I had once

entered this path, it was not in my power to recede. After having solemnly avowed my resolution to be thus

sincere in my confession, any particle of reserve or duplicity would cost me my life.

This indeed was a subject to be deeply thought upon. Hitherto I had been guilty of concealment with regard

to my friend. I had entered into no formal compact, but had been conscious to a kind of tacit obligation to

hide no important transaction of my life from him. This consciousness was the source of continual anxiety. I

had exerted, on numerous occasions, my bivocal faculty, but, in my intercourse with Ludloe, had suffered not

the slightest intimation to escape me with regard to it. This reserve was not easily explained. It was, in a great

degree, the product of habit; but I likewise considered that the efficacy of this instrument depended upon its

existence being unknown. To confide the secret to one, was to put an end to my privilege: how widely the

Each day multiplied the impediments to confidence. Shame hindered me from acknowledging my past

reserves. Ludloe, from the nature of our intercourse, would certainly account my reserve, in this respect,

unjustifiable, and to excite his indignation or contempt was an unpleasing undertaking. Now, if I should

resolve to persist in my new path, this reserve must be dismissed: I must make him master of a secret which

was precious to me beyond all others; by acquainting him with past concealments, I must risk incurring his

suspicion and his anger. These reflections were productive of considerable embarrassment.

There was, indeed, an avenue by which to escape these difficulties, if it did not, at the same time, plunge me

into greater. My confessions might, in other respects, be unbounded, but my reserves, in this particular, might

be continued. Yet should I not expose myself to formidable perils? Would my secret be for ever unsuspected

When I considered the nature of this faculty, the impossibility of going farther than suspicion, since the agent

could be known only by his own confession, and even this confession would not be believed by the greater

In most cases, if I had asserted the possession of this power, I should be treated as a liar; it would be

considered as an absurd and audacious expedient to free myself from the suspicion of having entered into

compact with a daemon, or of being myself an emissary of the grand foe. Here, however, there was no reason

to dread a similar imputation, since Ludloe had denied the preternatural pretensions of these airy sounds.

My conduct on this occasion was nowise influenced by the belief of any inherent sanctity in truth. Ludloe had

taught me to model myself in this respect entirely with a view to immediate consequences. If my genuine

interest, on the whole, was promoted by veracity, it was proper to adhere to it; but, if the result of my

Meanwhile, in a point of so much moment, I was not hasty to determine. My delay seemed to be, by no

means, unacceptable to Ludloe, who applauded my discretion, and warned me to be circumspect. My

attention was chiefly absorbed by considerations connected with this subject, and little regard was paid to any

One evening, after a day spent in my closet, I sought recreation by walking forth. My mind was chiefly

occupied by the review of incidents which happened in Spain. I turned my face towards the fields, and

recovered not from my reverie, till I had proceeded some miles on the road to Meath. The night had

considerably advanced, and the darkness was rendered intense, by the setting of the moon. Being somewhat

weary, as well as undetermined in what manner next to proceed, I seated myself on a grassy bank beside the

road. The spot which I had chosen was aloof from passengers, and shrowded in the deepest obscurity.

Some time elapsed, when my attention was excited by the slow approach of an equipage. I presently

discovered a coach and six horses, but unattended, except by coachman and postillion, and with no light to

guide them on their way. Scarcely had they passed the spot where I rested, when some one leaped from

beneath the hedge, and seized the head of the forehorses. Another called upon the coachman to stop, and

threatened him with instant death if he disobeyed. A third drew open the coachdoor, and ordered those

within to deliver their purses. A shriek of terror showed me that a lady was within, who eagerly consented to

To walk unarmed in the neighbourhood of Dublin, especially at night, has always been accounted dangerous.

I had about me the usual instruments of defence. I was desirous of rescuing this person from the danger

which surrounded her, but was somewhat at a loss how to effect my purpose. My single strength was

insufficient to contend with three ruffians. After a moment's debate, an expedient was suggested, which I

Time had not been allowed for the ruffian who stood beside the carriage to receive the plunder, when several

voices, loud, clamorous, and eager, were heard in the quarter whence the traveller had come. By trampling

with quickness, it was easy to imitate the sound of many feet. The robbers were alarmed, and one called upon

another to attend. The sounds increased, and, at the next moment, they betook themselves to flight, but not till

a pistol was discharged. Whether it was aimed at the lady in the carriage, or at the coachman, I was not

permitted to discover, for the report affrighted the horses, and they set off at full speed.

I could not hope to overtake them: I knew not whither the robbers had fled, and whether, by proceeding, I

might not fall into their hands. . . . . These considerations induced me to resume my feet, and retire from the

scene as expeditiously as possible. I regained my own habitation without injury.

I have said that I occupied separate apartments from those of Ludloe. To these there were means of access

without disturbing the family. I hasted to my chamber, but was considerably surprized to find, on entering my

My momentary confusion was greater than his. On discovering who it was, he assumed his accustomed looks,

and explained appearances, by saying, that he wished to converse with me on a subject of importance, and

had therefore sought me at this secret hour, in my own chamber. Contrary to his expectation, I was absent.

Conceiving it possible that I might shortly return, he had waited till now. He took no further notice of my

absence, nor manifested any desire to know the cause of it, but proceeded to mention the subject which had

You have nothing which the laws permit you to call your own. Justice entitles you to the supply of your

physical wants, from those who are able to supply them; but there are few who will acknowledge your claim,

or spare an atom of their superfluity to appease your cravings. That which they will not spontaneously give, it

Property is necessary to your own subsistence. It is useful, by enabling you to supply the wants of others. To

give food, and clothing, and shelter, is to give life, to annihilate temptation, to unshackle virtue, and

You may set your understanding or your hands at work. You may weave stockings, or write poems, and

exchange them for money; but these are tardy and meagre schemes. The means are disproportioned to the

end, and I will not suffer you to pursue them. My justice will supply your wants.

But dependance on the justice of others is a precarious condition. To be the object is a less ennobling state

than to be the bestower of benefit. Doubtless you desire to be vested with competence and riches, and to hold

them by virtue of the law, and not at the will of a benefactor. . . . . . He paused as if waiting for my assent to

his positions. I readily expressed my concurrence, and my desire to pursue any means compatible with

There are various means, besides labour, violence, or fraud. It is right to select the easiest within your reach.

It happens that the easiest is at hand. A revenue of some thousands a year, a stately mansion in the city, and

another in Kildare, old and faithful domestics, and magnificent furniture, are good things. Will you have

A gift like that, replied I, will be attended by momentous conditions. I cannot decide upon its value, until I

The sole condition is your consent to receive them. Not even the airy obligation of gratitude will be created

by acceptance. On the contrary, by accepting them, you will confer the highest benefit upon another.

Nothing. It may seem strange that, in accepting the absolute controul of so much property, you subject

yourself to no conditions; that no claims of gratitude or service will accrue; but the wonder is greater still.

The law equitably enough fetters the gift with no restraints, with respect to you that receive it; but not so with

regard to the unhappy being who bestows it. That being must part, not only with property but liberty. In

accepting the property, you must consent to enjoy the services of the present possessor. They cannot be

Of the true nature and extent of the gift, you should be fully apprized. Be aware, therefore, that, together with

this property, you will receive absolute power over the liberty and person of the being who now possesses it.

That being must become your domestic slave; be governed, in every particular, by your caprice.

Happily for you, though fully invested with this power, the degree and mode in which it will be exercised

will depend upon yourself. . . . . You may either totally forbear the exercise, or employ it only for the benefit

of your slave. However injurious, therefore, this authority may be to the subject of it, it will, in some sense,

The attachment and obedience of this being will be chiefly evident in one thing. Its duty will consist in

conforming, in every instance, to your will. All the powers of this being are to be devoted to your happiness;

but there is one relation between you, which enables you to confer, while exacting, pleasure. . . . . This

relation is ~~sexual~~. Your slave is a woman; and the bond, which transfers her property and person to you,

My knowledge of Ludloe, his principles, and reasonings, ought to have precluded that surprise which I

experienced at the conclusion of his discourse. I knew that he regarded the present institution of marriage as a

contract of servitude, and the terms of it unequal and unjust. When my surprise had subsided, my thoughts

Both law and custom have connected obligations with marriage, which, though heaviest on the female, are

not light upon the male. Their weight and extent are not immutable and uniform; they are modified by

various incidents, and especially by the mental and personal qualities of the lady.

I am not sure that I should willingly accept the property and person of a woman decrepid with age, and

enslaved by perverse habits and evil passions: whereas youth, beauty, and tenderness would be worth

As to altar vows, I believe they will not make me swerve from equity. I shall exact neither service nor

affection from my spouse. The value of these, and, indeed, not only the value, but the very existence, of the

latter depends upon its spontaneity. A promise to love tends rather to loosen than strengthen the tie.

As to myself, the age of illusion is past. I shall not wed, till I find one whose moral and physical constitution

will make personal fidelity easy. I shall judge without mistiness or passion, and habit will come in aid of an

I shall not be fastidious in my choice. I do not expect, and scarcely desire, much intellectual similitude

between me and my wife. Our opinions and pursuits cannot be in common. While women are formed by their

education, and their education continues in its present state, tender hearts and misguided understandings are

What are the character, age, and person of the woman to whom you allude? and what prospect of success

I have told you she is rich. She is a widow, and owes her riches to the liberality of her husband, who was a

trader of great opulence, and who died while on a mercantile adventure to Spain. He was not unknown to

you. Your letters from Spain often spoke of him. In short, she is the widow of Benington, whom you met at

Barcelona. She is still in the prime of life; is not without many feminine attractions; has an ardent and

credulent temper; and is particularly given to devotion. This temper it would be easy to regulate according to

your pleasure and your interest, and I now submit to you the expediency of an alliance with her.

I am a kinsman, and regarded by her with uncommon deference; and my commendations, therefore, will be

I will deal ingenuously with you. It is proper you should be fully acquainted with the grounds of this

proposal. The benefits of rank, and property, and independence, which I have already mentioned as likely to

accrue to you from this marriage, are solid and valuable benefits; but these are not the sole advantages, and to

No. My treatment of you henceforth will be regulated by one principle. I regard you only as one undergoing a

probation or apprenticeship; as subjected to trials of your sincerity and fortitude. The marriage I now propose

to you is desirable, because it will make you independent of me. Your poverty might create an unsuitable bias

in favour of proposals, one of whose effects would be to set you beyond fortune's reach. That bias will cease,

Love is the strongest of all human delusions. That fortitude, which is not subdued by the tenderness and

blandishments of woman, may be trusted; but no fortitude, which has not undergone that test, will be trusted

This woman is a charming enthusiast. She will never marry but him whom she passionately loves. Her power

over the heart that loves her will scarcely have limits. The means of prying into your transactions, of

suspecting and sifting your thoughts, which her constant society with you, while sleeping and waking, her

zeal and watchfulness for your welfare, and her curiosity, adroitness, and penetration will afford her, are

evident. Your danger, therefore, will be imminent. Your fortitude will be obliged to have recourse, not to

Alas! what human magnanimity can stand this test! How can I persuade myself that you will not fail? I waver

between hope and fear. Many, it is true, have fallen, and dragged with them the author of their ruin, but some

have soared above even these perils and temptations, with their fiery energies unimpaired, and great has been,

But you are doubtless aware of your danger. I need not repeat the consequences of betraying your trust, the

rigour of those who will Judge your fault, the unerring and unbounded scrutiny to which your actions, the

Your conduct, however, will be voluntary. At your own option be it, to see or not to see this woman.

Circumspection, deliberation forethought, are your sacred duties and highest interest.

Ludloe's remarks on the seductive and bewitching powers of women, on the difficulty of keeping a secret

which they wish to know, and to gain which they employ the soft artillery of tears and prayers, and

blandishments and menaces, are familiar to all men, but they had little weight with me, because they were

unsupported by my own experience. I had never had any intellectual or sentimental connection with the sex.

My meditations and pursuits had all led a different way, and a bias had gradually been given to my feelings,

very unfavourable to the refinements of love. I acknowledge, with shame and regret, that I was accustomed to

regard the physical and sensual consequences of the sexual relation as realities, and every thing intellectual,

disinterested, and heroic, which enthusiasts connect with it as idle dreams. Besides, said I, I am yet a stranger

to the secret, on the preservation of which so much stress is laid, and it will be optional with me to receive it

or not. If, in the progress of my acquaintance with Mrs. Benington, I should perceive any extraordinary

danger in the gift, cannot I refuse, or at least delay to comply with any new conditions from Ludloe? Will not

his candour and his affection for me rather commend than disapprove my diffidence? In fine, I resolved to see

She was, it seems, the widow of Benington, whom I knew in Spain. This man was an English merchant

settled at Barcelona, to whom I had been commended by Ludloe's letters, and through whom my pecuniary

supplies were furnished. . . . . . . Much intercourse and some degree of intimacy had taken place between us,

and I had gained a pretty accurate knowledge of his character. I had been informed, through different

channels, that his wife was much his superior in rank, that she possessed great wealth in her own right, and

that some disagreement of temper or views occasioned their separation. She had married him for love, and

still doated on him: the occasions for separation having arisen, it seems, not on her side but on his. As his

habits of reflection were nowise friendly to religion, and as hers, according to Ludloe, were of the opposite

kind, it is possible that some jarring had arisen between them from this source. Indeed, from some casual and

broken hints of Benington, especially in the latter part of his life, I had long since gathered this conjecture. . .

. . . . Something, thought I, may be derived from my acquaintance with her husband favourable to my views.

I anxiously waited for an opportunity of acquainting Ludloe with my resolution. On the day of our last

conversation, he had made a short excursion from town, intending to return the same evening, but had

continued absent for several days. As soon as he came back, I hastened to acquaint him with my wishes.

Have you well considered this matter, said he. Be assured it is of no trivial import. The moment at which you

enter the presence of this woman will decide your future destiny. Even putting out of view the subject of our

late conversations, the light in which you shall appear to her will greatly influence your happiness, since,

though you cannot fail to love her, it is quite uncertain what return she may think proper to make. Much,

doubtless, will depend on your own perseverance and address, but you will have many, perhaps insuperable

obstacles to encounter on several accounts, and especially in her attachment to the memory of her late

husband. As to her devout temper, this is nearly allied to a warm imagination in some other respects, and will

Well, said he, I anticipated your consent to my proposal, and the visit I have just made was to her. I thought it

best to pave the way, by informing her that I had met with one for whom she had desired me to look out. You

must know that her father was one of these singular men who set a value upon things exactly in proportion to

the difficulty of obtaining or comprehending them. His passion was for antiques, and his favourite pursuit

during a long life was monuments in brass, marble, and parchment, of the remotest antiquity. He was wholly

indifferent to the character or conduct of our present sovereign and his ministers, but was extremely solicitous

about the name and exploits of a king of Ireland that lived two or three centuries before the flood. He felt no

curiosity to know who was the father of his wife's child, but would travel a thousand miles, and consume

months, in investigating which son of Noah it was that first landed on the coast of Munster. He would give a

hundred guineas from the mint for a piece of old decayed copper no bigger than his nail, provided it had

aukward characters upon it, too much defaced to be read. The whole stock of a great bookseller was, in his

eyes, a cheap exchange for a shred of parchment, containing half a homily written by St. Patrick. He would

have gratefully given all his patrimonial domains to one who should inform him what pendragon or druid it

This spirit, as you may readily suppose, being seconded by great wealth and long life, contributed to form a

very large collection of venerable lumber, which, though beyond all price to the collector himself, is of no

value to his heiress but so far as it is marketable. She designs to bring the whole to auction, but for this

purpose a catalogue and description are necessary. Her father trusted to a faithful memory, and to vague and

scarcely legible memorandums, and has left a very arduous task to any one who shall be named to the office.

It occurred to me, that the best means of promoting your views was to recommend you to this office.

You are not entirely without the antiquarian frenzy yourself. The employment, therefore, will be somewhat

agreeable to you for its own sake. It will entitle you to become an inmate of the same house, and thus

establish an incessant intercourse between you, and the nature of the business is such, that you may perform it

I ventured to insinuate that, to a woman of rank and family, the character of a hireling was by no means a

He answered, that he proposed, by the account he should give of me, to obviate every scruple of that nature.

Though my father was no better than a farmer, it is not absolutely certain but that my remoter ancestors had

princely blood in their veins: but as long as proofs of my low extraction did not impertinently intrude

themselves, my silence, or, at most, equivocal surmises, seasonably made use of, might secure me from all

inconveniences on the score of birth. He should represent me, and I was such, as his friend, favourite, and

equal, and my passion for antiquities should be my principal inducement to undertake this office, though my

Having expressed my acquiescence in his measures, he thus proceeded: My visit was made to my

kinswoman, for the purpose, as I just now told you, of paving your way into her family; but, on my arrival at

her house, I found nothing but disorder and alarm. Mrs. Benington, it seems, on returning from a longer ride

than customary, last Thursday evening, was attacked by robbers. Her attendants related an imperfect tale of

somebody advancing at the critical moment to her rescue. It seems, however, they did more harm than good;

for the horses took to flight and overturned the carriage, in consequence of which Mrs. Benington was

severely bruised. She has kept her bed ever since, and a fever was likely to ensue, which has only left her out

As the adventure before related, in which I had so much concern, occurred at the time mentioned by Ludloe,

and as all other circumstances were alike, I could not doubt that the person whom the exertion of my

mysterious powers had relieved was Mrs. Benington: but what an illomened interference was mine! The

robbers would probably have been satisfied with the few guineas in her purse, and, on receiving these, would

have left her to prosecute her journey in peace and security, but, by absurdly offering a succour, which could

only operate upon the fears of her assailants, I endangered her life, first by the desperate discharge of a pistol,

and next by the fright of the horses. . . . . . . . My anxiety, which would have been less if I had not been, in

some degree, myself the author of the evil, was nearly removed by Ludloe's proceeding to assure me that all

danger was at an end, and that he left the lady in the road to perfect health. He had seized the earliest

opportunity of acquainting her with the purpose of his visit, and had brought back with him her cheerful

With such an object in view, I had little leisure to attend to any indifferent object. My thoughts were

continually bent upon the expected introduction, and my impatience and curiosity drew strength, not merely

from the character of Mrs. Benington, but from the nature of my new employment. Ludloe had truly

observed, that I was infected with somewhat of this antiquarian mania myself, and I now remembered that

Benington had frequently alluded to this collection in possession of his wife. My curiosity had then been

more than once excited by his representations, and I had formed a vague resolution of making myself

acquainted with this lady and her learned treasure, should I ever return to Ireland. . . . . Other incidents had

Meanwhile, affairs between Ludloe and myself remained stationary. Our conferences, which were regular

and daily, related to general topics, and though his instructions were adapted to promote my improvement in

the most useful branches of knowledge, they never afforded a glimpse towards that quarter where my

The next week now arrived, but Ludloe informed me that the state of Mrs. Benington's health required a short

excursion into the country, and that he himself proposed to bear her company. The journey was to last about a

This was a very unexpected and disagreeable trial to my patience. The interval of solitude that now succeeded

would have passed rapidly and pleasantly enough, if an event of so much moment were not in suspense.

Books, of which I was passionately fond, would have afforded me delightful and incessant occupation, and

Ludloe, by way of reconciling me to unavoidable delays, had given me access to a little closet, in which his

All my amusements, both by inclination and necessity, were centered in myself and at home. Ludloe

appeared to have no visitants, and though frequently abroad, or at least secluded from me, had never

proposed my introduction to any of his friends, except Mrs. Benington. My obligations to him were already

too great to allow me to lay claim to new favours and indulgences, nor, indeed, was my disposition such as to

make society needful to my happiness. My character had been, in some degree, modelled by the faculty

which I possessed. This deriving all its supposed value from impenetrable secrecy, and Ludloe's admonitions

tending powerfully to impress me with the necessity of wariness and circumspection in my general

intercourse with mankind, I had gradually fallen into sedate, reserved, mysterious, and unsociable habits. My

In this temper of mind, I set myself to examine the novelties which Ludloe's private bookcases contained.

'Twill be strange, thought I, if his favourite volume do not show some marks of my friend's character. To

know a man's favourite or most constant studies cannot fail of letting in some little light upon his secret

thoughts, and though he would not have given me the reading of these books, if he had thought them capable

of unveiling more of his concerns than he wished, yet possibly my ingenuity may go one step farther than he

The books which composed this little library were chiefly the voyages 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 reducing their ideas to practice, and drawing imaginary

pictures of nations 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

translation of Aristotle's republic, the political 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 already

familiar to me. I saw nothing new in them, or different from the strain of those speculations with which

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 geography, 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 on a pretty large scale, representing

two islands, which bore some faint resemblance, in their relative proportions, at least, to Great Britain 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

I have just said, my geographical knowledge was imperfect. Though I had not enough to draw the outlines 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 alluded to a country well known to him, though unknown to others, I was, of course, inclined to

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 diminished, were

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 continent as large as

North America, which our ignorance has filled only with water. In Ludlow's maps nothing 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

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, without a name?

As soon as Ludlow had set out upon 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 collection, and did not open the closet again till near the end of that period.

Meanwhile I had many reflections upon this remarkable circumstance. 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 curiosity 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 confounded on inspecting the shelves to perceive 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 certainty by applying to the housekeeper, 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 answered, 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 Ludlow had returned for no other

purpose 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 ourselves most safe,

and our fortress is taken sometimes through a point, whose weakness nothing, it should seem, but the blindest

My terrors, indeed, quickly subsided 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,

From this incident I could not but infer Ludlow's unwillingness to let me so far into his geographical secret,

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 betray 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 conceal 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 sometimes 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 allotted by Ludlow's maps to these ~incognitae~, 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

information 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 discovery had no other effect than to stimulate my curiosity; to keep up my

I had hitherto formed a resolution to stop where I was in Ludlow's confidence: to wait till the success should

be ascertained of my projects with respect to Mrs. Benington, before I made any new advance in the 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 whatever obligation he

This obligation was indeed a heavy one, since it included the confession of my vocal powers. In itself the

confession was little. To possess this faculty was neither laudable nor culpable, nor had it been exercised in a

way which I should be very much ashamed to acknowledge. It had led me into many insincerities and

artifices, which, though not justifiable by any creed, was entitled to some excuse, on the score of youthful

ardour and temerity. The true difficulty in the way of these confessions was the not having made them

already. Ludlow had long been entitled to this confidence, and, though the existence of this power was venial

or wholly innocent, the obstinate concealment of it was a different matter, and would certainly expose me to

suspicion and rebuke. But what was the alternative? To conceal it. To incur those dreadful punishments

awarded 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 betrayed 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

recollectionWho 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

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 before 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 upon

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 prevail 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

In the present state of my mind, though impatient to see Mrs. Benington, 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 exception or

condition~~, but what arose from defect of memory, he was willing to receive my confession.

I need not, he returned, remind you of the consequences of concealment or deceit. I have already dwelt upon

these consequences. As to the past, you have already told me, perhaps, all that is of any moment 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. Confessions of the past are required, because they are an

earnest of the future character and conduct. Have you thenbut this is too abrupt. Take an hour to reflect

and deliberate. Go by yourself; take yourself to severe task, and make up your mind with a full, entire, and

unfailing resolution; for the moment in which you assume this new obligation will make you a new being.

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.

*The reader must be reminded that the incidents of this narrative are supposed to have taken place before the

I retired accordingly to my apartment, and spent the prescribed hour in anxious and irresolute reflections.

They were no other than had hitherto occurred, but they occurred with more force than ever. Some fatal

obstinacy, however, got possession of me, and I persisted in the resolution of concealing ~~one thing~~. We

become fondly attached to objects and pursuits, frequently for no conceivable reason but the pain and trouble

they cost us. In proportion to the danger in which they involve us do we cherish them. Our darling potion is

After some time, I went to Ludloe's apartment. I found him solemn, and yet benign, at my entrance. After

intimating my compliance with the terms prescribed, which I did, in spite of all my labour for composure,

with accents half faultering, he proceeded to put various questions to me, relative to my early history.

I knew there was no other mode of accomplishing the end in view, but by putting all that was related in the

form of answers to questions; and when meditating on the character of Ludloe, I experienced excessive

uneasiness as to the consummate art and penetration which his questions would manifest. Conscious of a

purpose to conceal, my fancy invested my friend with the robe of a judicial inquisitor, all whose questions

In this respect, however, I was wholly disappointed. All his inquiries were general and obvious.They

betokened curiosity, but not suspicion; yet there were moments when I saw, or fancied I saw, some

dissatisfaction betrayed in his features; and when I arrived at that period of my story which terminated with

my departure, as his companion, for Europe, his pauses were, I thought, a little longer and more museful than

I liked. At this period, our first conference ended. After a talk, which had commenced at a late hour, and had

continued many hours, it was time to sleep, and it was agreed that next morning the conference should be

On retiring to my pillow, and reviewing all the circumstances of this interview, my mind was filled with

apprehension and disquiet. I seemed to recollect a thousand things, which showed that Ludloe was not fully

satisfied with my part in this interview. A strange and nameless mixture of wrath and of pity appeared, on

recollection, in the glances which, from time to time, he cast upon me. Some emotion played upon his

features, in which, as my fears conceived, there was a tincture of resentment and ferocity. In vain I called my

usual sophistries to my aid. In vain I pondered on the inscrutable nature of my peculiar faculty. In vain I

endeavoured to persuade myself, that, by telling the truth, instead of entitling myself to Ludloe's approbation,

I should only excite his anger, by what he could not but deem an attempt to impose upon his belief an

incredible tale of impossible events. I had never heard or read of any instance of this faculty. I supposed the

case to be absolutely singular, and I should be no more entitled to credit in proclaiming it, than if I should

maintain that a certain billet of wood possessed the faculty of articulate speech. It was now, however, too late

to retract. I had been guilty of a solemn and deliberate concealment. I was now in the path in which there was

The return of day's encouraging beams in some degree quieted my nocturnal terrors, and I went, at the

appointed hour, to Ludloe's presence. I found him with a much more cheerful aspect than I expected, and

After a little pause, he reminded me, that he was only one among many, engaged in a great and arduous

design. As each of us, continued he, is mortal, each of us must, in time, yield his post to another.Each of us

is ambitious to provide himself a successor, to have his place filled by one selected and instructed by himself.

All our personal feelings and affections are by no means intended to be swallowed up by a passion for the

general interest; when they can be kept alive and be brought into play, in subordination and subservience to

the ~~great end~~, they are cherished as useful, and revered as laudable; and whatever austerity and rigour

you may impute to my character, there are few more susceptible of personal regards than I am.

You cannot know, till ~~you~~ are what ~~I~~ am, what deep, what allabsorbing interest I have in the

success of my tutorship on this occasion. Most joyfully would I embrace a thousand deaths, rather than that

you should prove a recreant. The consequences of any failure in your integrity will, it is true, be fatal to

yourself: but there are some minds, of a generous texture, who are more impatient under ills they have

inflicted upon others, than of those they have brought upon themselves; who had rather perish, themselves, in

Perhaps of such noble materials is your mind composed. If I had not thought so, you would never have been

an object of my regard, and therefore, in the motives that shall impel you to fidelity, sincerity, and

perseverance, some regard to my happiness and welfare will, no doubt, have place.

And yet I exact nothing from you on this score. If your own safety be insufficient to controul you, you are not

fit for us. There is, indeed, abundant need of all possible inducements to make you faithful. The task of

concealing nothing from me must be easy. That of concealing every thing from others must be the only

arduous one. The ~~first~~ you can hardly fail of performing, when the exigence requires it, for what motive

can you possibly have to practice evasion or disguise with me? You have surely committed no crime; you

have neither robbed, nor murdered, nor betrayed. If you have, there is no room for the fear of punishment or

the terror of disgrace to step in, and make you hide your guilt from me. You cannot dread any further

disclosure, because I can have no interest in your ruin or your shame: and what evil could ensue the

confession of the foulest murder, even before a bench of magistrates, more dreadful than that which will

inevitably follow the practice of the least concealment to me, or the least undue disclosure to others?

You cannot easily conceive the emphatical solemnity with which this was spoken. Had he fixed piercing eyes

on me while he spoke; had I perceived him watching my looks, and labouring to penetrate my secret

thoughts, I should doubtless have been ruined: but he fixed his eyes upon the floor, and no gesture or look

indicated the smallest suspicion of my conduct. After some pause, he continued, in a more pathetic tone,

I am greatly at a loss by what means to impress you with a full conviction of the truth of what I have just

said. Endless are the sophistries by which we seduce ourselves into perilous and doubtful paths. What we do

not see, we disbelieve, or we heed not. The sword may descend upon our infatuated head from above, but we

who are, meanwhile, busily inspecting the ground at our feet, or gazing at the scene around us, are not aware

or apprehensive of its irresistible coming. In this case, it must not be seen before it is felt, or before that time

comes when the danger of incurring it is over. I cannot withdraw the veil, and disclose to your view the

exterminating angel. All must be vacant and blank, and the danger that stands armed with death at your elbow

must continue to be totally invisible, till that moment when its vengeance is provoked or unprovokable. I will

do my part to encourage you in good, or intimidate you from evil. I am anxious to set before you all the

motives which are fitted to influence your conduct; but how shall I work on your convictions?

Here another pause ensued, which I had not courage enough to interrupt. He presently resumed.

Perhaps you recollect a visit which you paid, on Christmas day, in the year , to the cathedral church at

A moment's reflection recalled to my mind all the incidents of that day. I had good reason to remember them.

I felt no small trepidation when Ludloe referred me to that day, for, at the moment, I was doubtful whether

there had not been some bivocal agency exerted On that occasion. Luckily, however, it was almost the only

And yet, said Ludloe, with a smile that seemed intended to disarm this declaration of some of its terrors, I

suspect your recollection is not as exact as mine, nor, indeed, your knowledge as extensive. You met there,

for the first time, a female, whose nominal uncle, but real father, a dean of that ancient church, resided in a

This female, continued he, fell in love with you. Her passion made her deaf to all the dictates of modesty and

duty, and she gave you sufficient intimations, in subsequent interviews at the same place, of this passion;

which, she being fair and enticing, you were not slow in comprehending and returning. As not only the safety

of your intercourse, but even of both your lives, depended on being shielded even from suspicion, the utmost

wariness and caution was observed in all your proceedings. Tell me whether you succeeded in your efforts to

And yet, said he, drawing something from his pocket, and putting it into my hand, there is the slip of paper,

with the preconcerted emblem inscribed upon it, which the infatuated girl dropped in your sight, one evening,

in the left aisle of that church. That paper you imagined you afterwards burnt in your chamber lamp. In

pursuance of this token, you deferred your intended visit, and next day the lady was accidentally drowned, in

passing a river. Here ended your connexion with her, and with her was buried, as you thought, all memory of

I leave you to draw your own inference from this disclosure. Meditate upon it when alone. Recal all the

incidents of that drama, and labour to conceive the means by which my sagacity has been able to reach events

that took place so far off, and under so deep a covering. If you cannot penetrate these means, learn to

reverence my assertions, that I cannot be deceived; and let sincerity be henceforth the rule of your conduct

towards me, not merely because it is right, but because concealment is impossible.

We will stop here. There is no haste required of us. Yesterday's discourse will suffice for today, and for

many days to come. Let what has already taken place be the subject of profound and mature reflection.

Review, once more, the incidents of your early life, previous to your introduction to me, and, at our next

conference, prepare to supply all those deficiencies occasioned by negligence, forgetfulness, or design on our

first. There must be some. There must be many. The whole truth can only be disclosed after numerous and

repeated conversations. These must take place at considerable intervals, and when ~~all~~ is told, then shall

you be ready to encounter the final ordeal, and load yourself with heavy and terrific sanctions.

I shall be the proper judge of the completeness of your confession.Knowing previously, and by unerring

means, your whole history, I shall be able to detect all that is deficient, as well as all that is redundant. Your

confessions have hitherto adhered to the truth, but deficient they are, and they must be, for who, at a single

trial, can detail the secrets of his life? whose recollection can fully serve him at an instant's notice? who can

free himself, by a single effort, from the dominion of fear and shame? We expect no miracles of fortitude and

purity from our disciples. It is our discipline, our wariness, our laborious preparation that creates the

I counsel you to join Mrs. Benington without delay. You may see me when and as often as you please. When

it is proper to renew the present topic, it shall be renewed. Till then we will be silent.Here Ludloe left me

alone, but not to indifference or vacuity. Indeed I was overwhelmed with the reflections that arose from this

conversation. So, said I, I am still saved, if I have wisdom enough to use the opportunity, from the

consequences of past concealments. By a distinction which I had wholly overlooked, but which could not be

missed by the sagacity and equity of Ludloe, I have praise for telling the truth, and an excuse for withholding

some of the truth. It was, indeed, a praise to which I was entitled, for I have made no ~~additions~~ to the

tale of my early adventures. I had no motive to exaggerate or dress out in false colours. What I sought to

conceal, I was careful to exclude entirely, that a lame or defective narrative might awaken no suspicions.

The allusion to incidents at Toledo confounded and bewildered all my thoughts. I still held the paper he had

given me. So far as memory could be trusted, it was the same which, an hour after I had received it, I burnt,

as I conceived, with my own hands. How Ludloe came into possession of this paper; how he was apprised of

incidents, to which only the female mentioned and myself were privy; which she had too good reason to hide

from all the world, and which I had taken infinite pains to bury in oblivion, I vainly endeavoured to