Memoirs of Carwin the Biloquist (A Fragment)Brown, Charles Brockden
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Memoirs of Carwin the Biloquist (A Fragment)
Brown, Charles Brockden
Ventriloquists -- Fiction
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 abatement of its original
distinctness and force.
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 invention in new clamours.
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
pernicious curiosity.
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 contemplation, and
the perusal of Milton's Comus.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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