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 Ludlow was accustomed to indulge himself in
conversation with me.
After having turned over the leaves of the printed volumes, I at
length lighted on a small book of maps, from which, of course, I could
reasonably expect no information, on that point about which I was most
curious. It was an atlas, in which the maps had been drawn by the pen.
None of them contained any thing remarkable, so far as I, who was indeed
a smatterer in 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 unfinished,
for it had no names inscribed upon it.
I have just said, my geographical knowledge was imperfect. Though I had
not enough to draw the 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 suppose that this
country was now before me.
In search of some clue to this mystery, I carefully inspected the other
maps in this collection. In a map of the eastern hemisphere I soon
observed the outlines of islands, which, though on a scale greatly
diminished, were plainly similar to that of the land above described.
It is well known that the people of Europe are strangers to very nearly
one half of the surface of the globe. [*] From the south pole up to the
equator, it is only the small space occupied by southern Africa and
by South America with which we are acquainted. There is a vast extent,
sufficient to receive a 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 without any name or inscription whatever.
I needed not to be told that this spot had never been explored by any
European voyager, who had published his adventures. What authority had
Ludlow for fixing a habitable land in this spot? and why did he give us
nothing but the courses of shores and rivers, and the scite of towns and
villages, 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 stupidity could overlook.
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,
which contributed to my future safety.
From this incident I could not but infer Ludlow's unwillingness to let
me so far into his geographical 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 zeal to prosecute the
journey I had commenced under his auspices.
I had hitherto formed a resolution to stop where I was in Ludlow's
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 should lay upon me.
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 recollection--Who can betray me
but myself? If I deny, who is there can prove? Suspicion can never light
upon the truth. If it does, it can never be converted into certainty.
Even my own lips cannot confirm it, since who will believe my testimony?
By such illusions was I fortified in my desperate resolution. Ludlow
returned at the time appointed. He informed me that Mrs. Benington
expected me next morning. She was ready to depart for her country
residence, where she proposed to spend the ensuing summer, and would
carry me along with her. In consequence of this arrangement, he said,
many months would elapse 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 found in these apartments.
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 declared myself ready to do so.
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 then--but 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. Perdition or felicity will hang
upon that moment.
This conversation was late in the evening. After I had consented to
postpone this subject, we parted, he telling me that he would leave his
chamber door open, and as soon as my mind was made up I might come to
him.
* The reader must be reminded that the incidents of this
narrative are supposed to have taken place before the
voyages of Bougainville and Cook.--Editor.