H 5 1 ^=33 1 o =^^= 33 1 5^^^55 m 1 o ^^^S ° 1 7 ^^^B r- 1 9 ^^^= 5 1 — : 5* 2 ^^^^S -< ^^^^K ^ ■ o ■ f California Regional Facility mm THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES M. WOMAN : OK, IDA OF A THENS. BY MISS OWENSON, AUTHOR OF THE " WILD IRI8H GIRL," THE " NOTICE 0» ST. DOMINICK," &C. " Nul doute qu'on ne s'elevat aux plus grands choscs si 1'on avott l'amour pour precepteur — et que la main de la bcauiii jetta dans notre ame les semences del'csprit etUe la veriu." Helve tius, Disc ours 2rf, p. 153. * Si le d«ir et merae l'espoir de voir un jour la liberie rendu aux Grecs ne sont que d'S chimeres, on doit pardonner cts doucea ittu— •ions a ceux dout I'enfance a ete consacres a l'etude de leur gloires, et a 1'admiration de leur vertus." De Choiseuil, Voyage Pittortsjue, p. 8. IN FOUR VOLUMES. VOL. HI. LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REE3, AND ORML, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 1809. ' ' Primed by J.D. Dewicit, 46, BarbJC»n. -. WOMAN; OR, IDA OF ATHENS. THE SACRIFICE. In those few, and brilliant moments of existence, when that blissful feeling which nearly sums up every joy in one, visits the heart, and seizes on every fa- culty of the mind, how submit to the cold dictates of the prudence that con- demns, or to the influence of the reason, that cautions? Ida, tender and ardent, for the first time truly conscious of loving, and of VOL. III. B 732094 2 WOMAN; OR, being loved, gave herself up without reserve to that train of enchanting emo- tions, a conviction so sweet and power- ful Was calculated to inspire. She was unsensible to the coldness with which her father received her on his return. In the note which he presented her from her diako, she perceived a health and spirit, which lurked not in its faint and almost illegible lines. The tone of her awakened feelings was calculated to bestow a brilliant character on every object ; and she thought that all smiled without, because all within was love, and peace, and joy; She retired early to her apartment to give herself up to re- flections only less dear than the felicity that awakened them. She slept but little, and her broken dream was sweet as the vigil that preceded it. She arose with the dawn., and frequently visited the kiosk of her apartment, in the hope IDA OF ATHENS. 5 of finding within its casement the flowers which were to inshrine the expected billet — the tender breathings of that heart which now throbbed so responsive to her own ; but during the whole of the day, neither the flowers, nor the note, crowned the sanguine hopes of Ida.; and a shade deeper than even that of disappointment, clouded the brilliant spirits and glowing feeling which hitherto animated her existence ; in love's hour the vicissitudes of an age are registered. The morning sun had risen in a brilliancy not its own, to the happy senses of Ida — its evening beam found her sad and pensive. She was seated in her gyma- sium, at her embroidery, surrounded by her domestic circle. Her father re- clined on an Ottoman, smoked his hoakoh ; and a silence, almost sullen, was only interrupted by a few laconic sentences, in which the merit of the * 2 4 WOMAN; OR, Disdar-Aga was detailed, and the sin- gular opinions and imprudent conduct of the diako were arraigned. Ida was accustomed to this. The Disdar-Aga had fastened on the weak- nesses, of the archon's character ; while he availed himself of his interest and in- fluence with his compatriots, into whose secret factions he frequently penetrated, through the medium of the archon's intelligence and unguarded conduct — while the diako inevitably betrayed a superiority which his brother's interests prevented him from opposing, but which his characteristic pride and national va- nity rendered insupportable. His obser- vations on both now acquired a pecu- liar poignancy from the interview he had with the one on the preceding morning, and with the other on that of the present day. - The diako had settled all his worldly IDA OF ATHENS. • S affairs; and had bequeathed, to the ar- chon, in the presence of g cadi, the whole of his property in Athens, with the exception of ten purses to Osmyn, whom he had previously adopted by the name of " Child of his Soul" according to the Turkish law* ; and this instance of partiality to a person whom the pre- judices and the fears of the archon had taught him to hate, lessened his sensi- bility to the generosity of his brother- in-law, which he now looked on as a matter of course, dependent upon the the affinity of their kindred. He made no reply to the encomiums lavished by the diako on the character of Osmyn ; and the venerable friend of Ida per- ceived the inefficacy of urging a suit which time alone could crown with suc- cess, and was silent on that subject which engaged the last of his mortal thoughts. * See note (a) at the end of the volume. 6 WOMAN; OR, But while his vacillating affections thus cooled in their ardour to a bene- factor who would soon cease to exist, they warmed towards him whose kind- ness was the result of his own interested and selfish views. The Disdar had ap- pointed him to the government of a little district in Livadia, and merely; added to - his nominal consequence, while he made him the instrument of his own insatiate rapacity. Ida guessed not at the immediate causes which now influenced the in- sinuations of her father relative to the friend whom she loved, and the tyrant whom she feared ; but she observed their poignancy, and the tear that stole at intervals from her eye, fell unobserved on her work, and was brushed away only to be succeeded by another. It was just after one of those acrimo- nious speeches which, when aimed at a IDA OF ATHENS. 7 character we revere, carries to the heart that pang of indignant feeling which proudly checks the effort of vindication friendship dictates, that Ida, unwilling to listen, and unable to reply, arose to leave the gymnasium, when a slave ab- ruptly entered it, followed by Osmyn. A faint exclamation burst from Ida's trembling lips ; she sunk back upon her seat; emotions of anger, amazement, and contempt, distorted the features of the archon. The children recognized their friend, and addressed and wel- comed him by his name. Ida concealed her face in her veil, and the eyes of Osmyn were rivetted on her person. In a moment every other feeling seemed absorbed in that with which he contemplated her. The archon measured his figure with his eyes. b 4 t WOMAN j OR, " Who are you P' he demanded, with a siern and haughty coldness. *.' An Athenian !" replied Osmyn, with that firm and motionless dignity which belongs alone to great minds. " And a slave !" retorted the archon, contemptuously. "' He only is a slave who is the friend of tyranny," replied Osmyn. " He only s a freedman whom the truth makes free." " Your business here?" demanded the archon, pale with stifled rage. " Alas !" returned Osmyn, his eyes, his countenance, his voice softening into sorrowful emotions, " Alas ! it is a sad one your friend !" he paused, and turned his looks on Ida. She had started from her seal ; — she had dropt her veil. Terror, suspense, a thousand, various feelings, were visible in bee tt>A OF ATHENS. 9 countenance. Osmyn approached her : he fell at her feet — he took a hand whose touch, more precious than life, was chill as death itself, and drawing from his finger a ring of dark and plaited hair, and placing it on Ida's, he said, in a low and tremulous voice, " This little ring is an appropriate gift ! its circle is symbolic of eternity ! It was only relinquished, with life itself; and it was the wish of him who be- queathed it, that Ida should receive it from one whose tender smypathy should share her sorrow, even though it denied him to soothe and solace her re- grets/' Osmyn pressed the hand that lay almost lifeless in the clasp of his ; he struggled to suppress the feelings that agitated his soul. He arose : coldly saluted the archon as he parsed him, and said, with an air composed and dig % - niiied, " Archon, the dying command r, 5 10 WOMAN; OR, of that friend who is no more, brought me to your house ; the duty was sacred; it is now obeyed." Then, not daring to indulge his eyes with one look at Ida, he rushed out of the apartment, and Ida fell senseless in the arms of her. Paramana. TO IDA. ff Sacred be the sorrow of a young, a tender, an unpractised heart, whose faculty of suffering is first called into being by that irreparable loss which human power can neither compensate or soothe, let not even the glowing hand of love draw aside the veil that shades the mourners head in the first era of passionate affliction — let not even friendship vio- late the mystic sadness that hangs upon the first days cf unutterable an- IDA OF ATHENS. II guish, when the heart still clings to the tie which is wrenched from it for ever, and doubts the possibility of an eternal separation. But when time, and nature, so favorable and so healing to the wounded soul and lacerated feeling of the human sufferer, have assuaged the an- guish and soothed the pang of new- born woe into the tender melancholy of resigned affliction, then, Oh ! Ida, may not love, trembling to intrude, yet languishing to sympathize — may not respectful, timid love, approach the mourning object of its fond idolatry, chase from the lovely cheek the lingering tear, and echo back the bosom's tender sigh, and soothe the sadness it is so sweet to share. " All Athens speaks of Ida's tender and profound regret for him who taught all Athens to revere him. " But Ida's sorrows, like her joys, can b6 n WOMAN i OR, ne'er be even guessed at by a world where none resembles, and none can un- derstand her. " Yet, oh Ida ! is there not one whose soul has caught its spark from your's — whose heart is worthy to adore you, yet is he only banished from your pre- sence ? Day after day I hover near your dwelling. I behold with envy the indifferent persons admitted to your fa- ther's house ; and are they all indifferent ? To-day 1 saw the Disdar-i\ga enter Ida, you dare not violate that sacred promise ! I know his manners rise superior to his country's sullen cha- racter — I know him handsome, power- ful,, rich, and enamoured ! yet, still I have your promise. Why was voue cheek: so flushed when I beheld you at the casement of hjs harem ? Why ! Madman !-— Have not I pressed you to my heart ! — Have not you bid me live-— IDA OF ATHENS. 1.3 and — live for you ! Last night I faintly swept my lyre's, chords beneath your easement ; you drew aside the lattice, and some one then approaching, obliged me to retire. To-night I shall again thus lure you to your window. You will then receive these lines, and I will wait beneath for one, one single line, which Love perhaps may dictate, anifc Sorrow not deny. Osmyn." TO OSMYN. " I was not then deceived. My heart responded to those tones which ypur's alone could breathe. To-day they told me you were proscribed — -pursued.— They said your life was forfeited. — They said, too, that Jumeli pleaded — pleaded for you to her father, and pro- voked, the Disdar's rage. Happy Ju^- 14 WOMAM; OR, meli ! Oh, Osmyn ! your note was my salvation ; for this night I purposed to break my vow, to fly to the Acropolis, and save your life. The effort now, I trust, is needless, and Ida was deceived." TO IDA. "It is true Ida — I am proscribed ! pursued ! I was observed loitering near the citadel the day you visited the Dis- dar's daughter ; and tyranny and power can seldom want pretence for persecu- tion. Hitherto an impenetrable dis- guise has enabled me to escape their vigilance ; and I encounter risks in still remaining in Livadia ; but he whom love and patriotism animates, is his own destiny. Stamati, generous and impru- dent, has offered me asylum, but if I fall, I fall alone ! All day I wander 4 IDA OF ATHENS. U amidst these now melancholy shades that witnessed my growing passion — my only days of pure felicity. Soon as the sun declines, I hover near the spot thy presence hallows : then join the little band of patriots, whom the sympathy of virtue, the sacred love of freedom, unite and consecrate ; and then, veiled by the shades of night, I sleep amidst the mighty ruins of my country's former greatness — and when thy seraph image visits not my dream, the shades of the athenian heroes seem to hover round me, and shed ' their glory o'er my sleeping vision. " Oh, Ida ! thou who inspiredst my youthful heart at once with love, and glory's deathless passion, shall I e'er win, as I would fain deserve thee — shall the ardent feelings of that soul with which thine own pure spirit has com- muned, be given their scope — assert IS WOMAN f Oft, their claims to higher fortune — and find these claims allowed by that high power which men call fate. Ida, I am be- loved by thee ! You cannot now deny it ! You know not who I am, and yet you love me — but you know what I am, and therefore do you love me. — 'Twas not thy words confessed it ! 'twas not thine eyes betrayed it ! — but in that sacred moment, when the vestal's love sought sanction in the woman's fears, and when you pressed so close these hearts Oh, Ida! I cannot longer live without beholding you I" TO OSMYN. M Osmyn, I know not who you are, and scarce desire to know. Be your birth what it may, or poor or princely, it cannot make you nobler in my eyes, IDA OF ATHENS. If nor e'er degrade you in my mind's esteem. The sacred love of virtue warms your soul; genius and patriotism deify your character; and all your feelings adapt your whole existence to love and tenderness. These are endow- ments of heaven's own gift ; and after these, how poor and low the. honours man confers. It is also true 1 love you, most tenderly, most passionately ! {)ut if to tell thee so is weakness, it is the sole weak- ness that love itself shall teach me to commit. " Oh, Osmyn ! why endeavour to con- ceal from you what perhaps you already suspect— what you must eventually know ? If reasori, if nature sanction our loves, a duty, now paramount to every other, forbids it. I am not yet a wife ; then thy law were mine ; but I am still a daughter, and sentiment, no less than duty, deters me from openly op- 18 WOMAN: OR, posing the wish and will of him, hitherto so dear, so tender, and indulgent. I am, indeed, a thing inconsequent; yet in the great chain of social compact I form a little link — the country which respects me ! the father who depends on me ! the brothers who look up to me ! " Oh, Osmyn ! I can risk my life for your salvation, and glory in the sacrifice! but I cannot live degraded in your eyes and in my own. The true point of virtue is to immolate the selfish for the social good ; and that point I am worthy to attain, since I am beloved by you." TO IDA. • Is then the sweet tide of pleasure always to have its reflux of bitterness* Is the ecstasy of a moment to be pur- chased by the sufferings of an age ?— i IDA OF ATHENS. 1.9 Has the happiness I had never hoped, and was unworthy to enjoy, become : the source of my misery? and having tasted of heaven, am I become unfit for Tsarth ? Oh, Ida ! what does this por- tend ? Do you already repent that goodness by which 1 received from your hands a new sense of being:? Do vou "wish to tear from my heart the memory of a moment ? Alas ! the effort is in Tain. Oh, no ; it would be the last violence of nature to extinguish the memory of a bliss, which, by a sweet and eternal habit of recurrence, gains with every added hour a more absolute possession of our soul. " Ida, you bade me love — and live for you ! From that moment life, and even love itself, assumed a new aspect to my senses and my soul. The duties, the occurrences, the pursuits that orice im- pelled and actuated my being, all are 2o WOMAN; OK r now overwhelmed in a sentiment, whose impetuosity resembles the whirlwind which tears away in its career of wild - destruction , every object, every particle within its sphere. My whole frame is* but a wandering phantom, into which another spirit is transferred, than that with which heaven had endowed it : and my restless heart still pursues you like the shadow which is. but the re- flection of a superior image, to which it still points with invariable fidelity. By a strange paradox of feeling, the su- premacy of my bliss has become the source of my unutterable misery. In proportion as I feel the duties of my situation, I feel my total incapability to effect their accomplishment ; and my sense of right still sharpens, as my in- efficiency to adhere to it increases.-^- The claims which bound me to society 'are slackened , the fire that warmed my IDA OF ATHENS. 21 bosom for my country's weal is chilled. 1 no longer live for the world, or for Athens. I no longer cherish that pas- sionate love of giory, and of fame, which animated and guided my earlier feelings — I live for Ida ! alone for Ida ! and love is the only passion of which my soul is susceptible. Ida, I must see you ! I must hear you ! It is your absence that renders you terrific — your presence is less fatal ; it at least trahquilizes the imagination. The holy calm of yonr sweet and vestal counte- nance soothes the fever which your charms, when ideally dwelt on, excite. You alone can counteract the effects of which you alone are the cause. Yes, Ida, if I am mad, tis yo 1 alone that have awakened my frenzy : it is you alone that can restore me to reason. There is at the foot of the hill of the Acropolis, and at no great distance from 22 WOMAN; OR, your residence, a cave, which now some- times serves as a christian oratory, and is dedicated to the blessed Virgin Mary. It is also anciently sacred to the loves of Apollo and Creusa. If 1 am not to be- hold you in your father's house — if you will not, if you cannot come to the re- treat of our late friend, to-night I shall expect you in the oratory of our Lady of the Cavern, this spot so remote and so sacred, so consecrated by religion, and by love, so devoted to the memory of a celestial chastity, and an immortal pas- sion. Oh, Ida ! on earth there is no other spot so worthy of receiving you : so worthy of re-uniting two beings, whose sentiment of tenderness is pure and ardent as those characters by whose memory that spot has become hallowed." IDA OF ATHENS. 23 TO OSMYN. " It is for a common woman to inspire a common passion. Ida of Athens would hope to find in the lover, her heart has chosen, the man whom her reason must approve, and the hero on whom her imagination could dwell with triumph and with pride. "Oh,Osmyn ! had your soul been sus- ceptible of no other sentiment than that of love, would you have been preferred to the first and most amiable of the athenian youth ? No ; I chose you for yourself alone ! 1 chose you because I believed you capable of a great passion, and of those heroic actions which a greafc passion alone inspires ! It is not for a tame and moderate character to feel that pure, that ardent and sacred senti- ment, which in its true and highest 24 WOMAN; OR, nature Is connected with all the greater faculties and sublimer emotions of our being, and therefore did my soul elect you as its dear and high associate, as one best capable of loving, and therefore most worthy to be loved. But if you would have me love you. fondly, let me esteem you highly. If you would render me sensible of your tenderness, continue to exalt yourself in my imagi- nation. Give me some excuse for the excess of my affection. If they will say ' she loved imprudently/ — let them also add ? but she loved greatly.' " Hitherto I stand acquitted. It was a hero — the champion of Liberty and of Greece— the friend of Athens, and hu- manity, for whom I exposed myself in the nekkeme of a Turkish tyrant. But it is not for a lover, a frantic lover only, in whom an imprudent passion has sub- dued every purer, every nobler feeling, IDA OF ATHENS. 25 that I would- violate the delicacy of a national and natural reserve, and steal clandestinely, from the dear and safe asylum of a father's dwelling, to* the gloomy cavern of Apollo. " Oh, Osmyn ! let me be loved worthily, or let me be resigned for ever ! "Ida." TO IDA. " Oh, Ida ! your heart, insensible as pure, resembles those polar snows from whence the northern lights effuse their radiance ; it illumines, but it does not warm, and its sentiments chill in pro- portion as they brighten. She who reasons, rarely loves ; she who argues, seldom feels ; and she who dares not confide, will never inspire confidence. Ida, do you already forget those blissful days, when all nature conspired to VOL III. c 26 WOMAN; OR, assist my passion, because my passion rendered all nature subservient to its feelings ! "When the ardor of a meridian sun drove me with Ida to those shades, whose luxurious melancholy breathed love's own character ; when the pure beam of a midnight moon lured us to those haunts ; where the delicious ema- nations of balsamic flowers communi- cated a sweet inebriety, and effused their odour even to the imagination; yet then, even then, in those shades where love alone presided, did not the celestial calm of Ida's soul communicate its character of pure tranquillity to Osmyn's ardent feelings, and made him blush to feel or offer human homage to one who, sainted in his heart and fancy, seemed only worthy to receive devotions almost holy. "Oh, Ida ! you stand alone, and I can find no parallel for your perfections. — IDA OF ATHENS* 27 I am young — I love— and am a Greek— but if love has made me frantic, can love render me unworthy. It were im- piety towards heaven, and profanation towards you, to think it. " Prove me, try me, convince me I am beloved ; become at once my inspiration and my reward, and then behold what the soul of man can effect, under the perfect developement of a profound sensibility — of that sensibility which you have so often said ' is the source of all human excellence, and of • whose affections virtue itself is but composed.' *' The cause of Athens demands my warm exertions ; but my feelings, agi- tated and diverted from its interest^ want that reposing confidence in your love that can alone restore them to their native tone. Come then, sweet Ida ! come and pour thy spirit in my soul ! — if not for love's dearer sake, at least for c 2 28 WOMAN; OR,. that of Athens, come : at once formed to be the daughter of a Cato, or the mistress of an Alcibiades — lovely in thy patriotism, as powerful in thy tender- ness. I swear by all my soul holds sacred, that from the persuasion of thy lips only will I be lured back to that cause from which thou alone couldst sever me. Oh, Ida ! remember the amulet — remember the song of Canzi an i— re- member, ' that if it is for man to perform •great actions ; 'tis for woman to inspire them. " To-morrow night, then, Ida, in the - Oratory of the Lady of the Grotto, it is no common cause demands thy pre- sence — it is not love alone — it is thy country that solicits it." IDA OF ATHENS. 29 TO OSMYN. " I come to restore you to your coun- try ! to revive that love of glory you were created to feel ! to re-animate that fading spark of virtue which the i 1 1— * directed violence of an unhappy passion has for a moment chilled ! " I have much to tell thee — I have much to hear. It is love, now worthy of the name — it is patriotism with which no vice was e'er associated, that leads me to you. You invoke me in my country's name, and I obey the sa- cred invocation. Oh, Osmyn ! not more the friend of my heart than the hero of my soul ; to-night, when the Gastriani have called out the twelfth hour from the walls of the Acropolis, thou shallst behold me at its base ; but attempt not to leavel the grotto — approach not my g3 30 WOMAN; OR, father's house. I already tremble for ,thy temerity, and feel thy danger through my country and myself." The house of the archon Rosemeli lay near the Lanthern of Demosthenes, and at no great distance from the Oratory of our Lady of the Grotto ; but the night was gloomy, and the heart of Ida was ap- palled for the first time as she stole from the safety of her paternal home. Every movement awakened a new fear ; the trembling of the leaves made her shudder: and she paused, overcome, as the deep hallow of the Castriani struck on her ear. At that moment she be- held an indistinct form gliding towards her — her heart trembled between its instinctive hope and natural fears : nor was its palpitation tranquillized when she felt her sinking form supported IDA OF ATHENS. 31 by Osmyn's arms. His emotion was scarcely less than her's. He could only pronounce her name, and almost bore her in his arms towards the grotto. For a moment they paused. Sounds of a religious strain met their ears. They approached the entrance *of the grotto, and beheld it filled with a pious crowd, engaged in celebrating the midnight mass on the eve of the festival of some tutelar saint of the Greek church. The lumination of the wax tapers — the cha- racteristic drapery of the bearded pa- triarchs and papas — the rolling clouds of incense — the ceremonies of a religion so fanciful in its forms, and the singular place in which they were celebrated, which in other times had witnessed the rites of a still more picturesque devo- tion, all combined to render the spec- tacle solemn, interesting, and romantic. Ida, whose head drooped on the shoulder c 4 S% WOMAN; OK, of Csmyn, raised her eyes to his. Their. looks mingled with a faint smile, and both felt the tender ecstasy of a mutual feeling, even in a matter of taste, of sen- timent, and fancy. But scarce a mo- ment was allowed for the contemplation of a scene so singular, under circum- stancesof so peculiar and eventful a na- ture. Osmyn feared not for himself, but for Ida. The winds that roughly disordered her tresses — the night dews that fell upon her lightly-covered head — the apprehension of her being seen, all awakened the tremblings of his doating heart. He led her away in silence to- wards the porch of a little mosque, which lay at the brow of the Acropolis, in the midst of a Turkish cemetry, and was shaded by cypress trees. He as- sisted her in her ascent ; and murmurs of tender encouragement, or affectionate apprehensions, answered by gentle as- IDA OF ATHENS. S3 surances of courage and strength, alone broke on the stillness of a scene so solemn, and an hour so awful, till Osmyn abruptly pausing, seemed to listen to the sound of voices, whose louder tones Ida soon caught. Osmyn hurried her on towards the shelter of a tomb, at whose head the gaudy turban of some deceased Turk was placed ; then drawing a small sword, he hurried down the ascent. Ida heard the sound of voices grow louder: she thought she heard the clashing of arms. The frenzy of love and horror braced every nerve ; her weakness was no more : she flew like lightning towards the spot from whence the noise appeared to issue. She beheld Osmyn engaged with two men. Fear- less of danger, she shrieked and rushed between them. " Mercy! she ex- claimed. " Ida !" returned a voice, c 5 S4 WOMAN; OR, and almost lifeless, yet not insensible, she fell in the arms of her father. But her sight, her feelings, failed not with her strength : she beheld Osmyn still engaged with his unknown adversary. She fell at her father's feet ; her voice trembled with agony and passion. — " Save him,''' she exclaimed, " or be- hold me expire at your feet !"' But the prayer was needless. Osmyn was vic- torious. The ci meter of his adversary was shivered in the air. He fled. — Osmyn still pursued him. A shTiek of love and triumph broke from the lips of Ida! " He conquers!" she exclaimed; " he is still victorious !" and fell sense- less to the earth. The passiQn of the disdar-aga for the archon's daughter was so cherished by circumstances, so combined with the strongest prejudices of his nature, so IDA OF ATHENS. 35 linked with the most powerful ties of his interest, that it had begun to assume a character of durability in his heart, which obstacles served but to confirm. Aware of the increasing factions of the athenians, he was anxious to unite to his cause one of the most powerful and opulent of the athenian families. Ena- moured of the beauty and genius of Ida, a resistanceso seldom encountered, served but to enflame his love ; and detesting", while he feared, the superiority of his former slave, he still suspected a rival, over whose destruction he no longer lingered. The days of Ida devoted to afflict on for the loss of her best friend, left him no hope of obtaining an im- mediate interview ; and still concealing his views from the archon, he still con- tinued to exasperate his pride against the temerity of Osmyn, whom he af- fected to have discovered engaged in a c 6 36 WOMAN; OR, secret intercourse with Ida ; and whom r under the pretence of political caution, and a supposed discovery of secret ma- chinations against the Turkish empire in Greece, he had proscribed. But Osmyn, unknown but by his patriotism, undis- tinguished but by those brilliant quali- ties lavished on him by a partial nature, was surrounded by secret friends, while the aga invested with the sword of power, and the reins of empire, was en- vironed by secret enemies. It was thus that Osmyn escaped the vigilance of a tyrant in ail the plenitude of command ; it was thus the disdar vainly pursued a slave, whose genius and whose virtue created their own destiny, and still with- stood the power of the oppressor, while armed and animated in the cause of the oppressed. But the unquiet and vehement love of Osmyn opposed its unguarded violence IDA OF ATHENS. 37 to the general prudence of a conduct, which, in other instances, had been re- gulated by a circumspection seemingly incompatible with the passionate tone of his enthusiastic character; a circum- spection which the reiterated counsels of his deceased friend had called into being, and which the impetuous but volatile character of the athenians, with whom he was coalesced, hourly con- firmed. On the evening in which he had induced Ida to meet him in the grotto of Apollo; his solicitude, his im- patience betrayed him into imprudences of which his love (invalued in its owa feelings) took no account. He had appeared less disguised than usual near the Acropolis, engaged in ex- amining that rich, but consecrated spot, which he contemplated as the temple of his supreme felicity ; and at whose en- trance he had scattered those flowers, 3« WOMAN; OR, whose breath he well remembered Ida loved to inhale. At night, he had again adjourned there, and had been remarked by the soldiers who guarded the walls of the citadel ; and the disdar was soon in- formed of the suspicious appearance of the wanderer, who, within an hour of midnight, was seen to loiter beneath the ramparts of the fortress. The fears and hopes of the aga equally assured him, the unknown could be no other than the daring, the unvan- quishable Osmyn ! And he issued forth with his capadilgar kiazessa, in pursuit of the imprudent, whose life he now conceived to be in his hands : while by strange comminglement of cowardice and intrepidity, he determined on assas- sinating hirr, whom he feared publicly to destroy. It was near the grotto of our lady that he encountered the archon, who, trembling with emotion, informed IDA OF ATHENS. 3$ him, that thus far he had traced the footsteps of his daughter, whom he had by chance discovered to have secretly left his house, and whom he had pur- sued, a-nd lost amidst the increasing darkness of the night. The aga listened to the detail with stifled rage ; he perceived the Greek was armed, he dismissed the captain of the guard, and accompanied by the archon, continued his pursuit of the object of a double vengeance. It was Osmyn, who seeking danger had thrown himself into its very arms — it was Osmyn who parried the vengeful efforts of Ida's father without returning them — it was Osmyn who vanquished and pursued the aga till he felt pursuit was almost dishonour : and till love, and love's profoundest apprehensions, hurried him back to the spot, where he had left Ida with her father ; but all was dark and si- *4 40 WOMAN; OR, lent, and Ida and her father had disap- peared. The archon Rosemeli had with diffi- culty borne the almost lifeless form of Ida home; they entered her gymnasium by the garden ; it was faintly lit up by a single lamp. Ida sunk on a sopha, and the archon paced the chamber with that air of restless perturbation, which spoke a mind agitated by conflicting passions, Whose overwhelming vehe- mence denied them utterance. The superior character of Ida, from her earliest youth, had inspired him with a respect for her genius, and a confidence in her virtue, her recent imprudence could not wholly vanquish. Her strength had so often supported his weakness, and her counsel had so often directed his conduct, that the sentiment existing between parent and child, seemed with them almost reversed ; and the archon. IDA OF ATHENS. 41 even in the moment when her obvious imprudence clashed equally with his prejudices, his interests, and his pride, believed her innocent in fact, though erroneous in feeling, and blameable in conduct. He knew not how to arraign her whom he had hitherto revered — he knew not how to accuse, where he had hitherto only feared accusations, so powerful is the influence of a strong mind over a weak one. He paused for a moment, and look- ing fully on her, he at last said : " Archondessa ! in what light have you appeared this night, in the eyes of your father and his friend ?" " As one," said Ida, tremulously, and supported only by conscious virtue, — " as one who loved innocently, but unfortunately — as one who, attached to virtue, was forced, by the prejudices of 42 WOMAN; OR, others, to shroud her conduct in the mystery which should belong alone to vice." " Then j you openly confess your passion for this young and daring stranger?" he demanded, -trembling with uncontrolled rage. Ida fell at her father's feet, and con- cealed her blushes and her tears in the folds of her father's robe. " For a slave ! — a traitor ! — an alien \' y he continued. " For him I 1 ' said Ida, indignantly, " who in all Athens dares^ alone to be free ! — For a hero ! and a patriot \" " For him," continued the archon, passionately, " whose destiny, urged on by frontless bold temerity, marks him the victim of a speedy vengeance ! ,; " The destiny of genius and of virtue depend not on man!" said Ida, with enthusiasm: "It is blended with that IDA OF ATHENS. 43 of the universe, and can only perish in the common ruin." The weak but subtil mind of the Greek was struck by the fismness of her reply, and the grandeur of the air that accompanied it. He paused for a few moments — his countenance changed its character —and he calmly asked, " Ida, knowest. thou from whom thou art descended? — know- est thou that the noble, virtuous archon, Aristodemus* was the founder of thy family in Athens?" " 'Tis said so,"' replied Ida, meekly. " That Athens boasts not of nobler blood, than that which flows in thy veins." " I do believe it," she added, sighing*. * He flourished in the first year of the 107th Olympiad : the orations of Demosthenes were made in his archonship. 44 WOMAN; OR, " And thou, Ida ! thou who art so deep-versed in thy country's ancient laws, and modern habits, knowest thou not one by which athenian women are forbidden to wed another than an athe- nian citizen? — and that the alien who dares to wed the free athenian woman, was liable to slavery, and forfeiture of property*?" " Such was the ancient law, I know," faintly answered Ida. " And such the modern observance!" added the archon. " When does a true athenian, whom birth has rendered no- ble, violate the well-known precept * when thou marriest, let it be thy equal?' And is it the archondessa Ro- semeli, to whom all Athens looketh for * For an account of the ancient laws of Athens, see jElian, lib. 3, and Potter's Antiquities, page 15S, vol. 1, IDA OF ATHENS. 45 example, who would oppose her indivi- dual wishes, to a prejudice so favorable to her country's happiness, her coun- try's good ? Would Ida be the first to violate an ancient law which modern Greece respects, and still obeys ; a law which still preserves the native greeks distinct and free from all impure al- liance with turk, with infidel, with slaves, or strangers?'' " No, not even a prejudice would Ida violate, which could promote her wretched country's good!" replied the young athenian, with enthusiasm. "Then, Ida, thou must resign this alien, whom none e'er knew but as the purchased slave of Achmet-aga — but as the object of my kinsman's ill-judged bounty — but as the suspected secret leader of a dangerous and devoted faction !" Ida intercepted her father by tears * Vk 46" WOMAN ; OR, and passionate exclamations. She fell at his feet, and pressed his hands. " Oh ! spare me !" she cried, " spare me ! for still I love him !'' Her father gazed on her for many minutes, then turned aside his head and wept. Ida was overcome by a father's tears — she kissed his feet — she invoked him to have mercy on her. He raised her in his arms— he folded her to his heart — " You have conquered, he exclaimed, " but you have broken a parent's heart ! — Go ! seek out this un- known, wandering stranger ! desert for him, all that has rendered thee supe- rior and unequalled in the world's eyes! — the father whose life is bound in thine ! — the brothers over whom you have acquired all the endearing rights of maternity! —that country, that native and unhappy country, which ** "Never!" interrupted Ida, with an IDA OF ATHENS. 47 exclamation of horror. " Father, you know not of what 1 am capable! — For the safety of him I love I would sacri- fice a thousand lives ! — For the family — for the country, on whom I doat, to whom I am bound, I would sacrifice my happiness ! — would !^-Oh, God ! — I will !— I do !" She rushed to a little cabinet as she spoke, and, in a tremu- lous agitation, that betrayed the disorder of her feelings, wrote the following lines : " TO OSMYN. "Farewell! — the virtue that at- tracted us towards each other, separates us for ever ! — To become yours, I must first become unworthy of you ! — You are resigned — you are beloved — but if to tell vou so be a weakness, 'tis the last ' 48 WOMAN; OR, that* "even love itself shall lead me to commit.— Again, farewell ! — I restore you to the- country for whose service you were created — I return to the duties from which an unfortunate passion had nearly and for ever severed me. " Ida." Ida, with a trembling hand, and an averted head, presented the paper to her father — he glanced his eyes over it, and clasped her to his breast. Ida hung, faint and almost lifeless, on his shoulder; she felt his tears on her cheek, and they revived her; conscious virtue, and filial tenderness, were the paramount feelings of the moment: at last the archon said, " And this paper, which is the mandate of your father's happiness — how is it to be delivered ?" " Am I not worthy of your confi- IDA OF ATHENS. 4$ dence?" demanded Ida, with an an- guished smile. " Most worthy, dearest daughter !" he answered. " Then," she added, with a profound sigh, " though I shall never again hold intercourse with him for whom it is intended, he shall receive it before the morning's dawn — but the virtue that teaches me to resign him, teaches me also to guard his life and safety, like a sacred trust, committed by heaven to my care." "It is enough !" said the archon, with a perfect confidence in the inno- cent nature of her who had sacrificed her happiness to the promotion of his peace — " It is enough 1" and calling down a blessing on her heart, he again tmbraced her, and bid her farewell, entreating her to seek that repose her exhausted nature called for, VOL, III. d 50 WOMAN ; OR, The night was now far advanced ; but Ida guided by the instinct of that heart, which was still enamoured even as it was wretched, sought the kiosk, beneath whose casement she believed it possible Osmyn even at that moment might wander, careless of the danger which his solicitude for her would tempt him at once to brave and despise. The waning moon had just risen from behind a mass of clouds, and its faint beam fell on the form of a man, who, in an attitude at once anxious and de- spending, leaned opposite the kiosk; the well-known form of Osmyn was not to be mistaken. For a moment Ida gave herself up to the contemplation of an object so dear, so dangerous. That perfect, that unrivaled form, which she bad never beheld without emotions of love and admiration— that beautiful countenance, in which the fire 3 IDA OF ATHENS. if of an ardent soul, the sensibility of a passionate heart, was so sweetly mingled ; and those sighs borne to her ear by the death-like stillness of the hour, all roused to madness the enthusiastic feel- ings of love, and of despair. For a mo- ment every lesser sentiment yielded to their force ; >she was on the point of rushing from the kiosk, of precipitating herself into those arms, where even death would be so much more welcome, than a life which love no longer blessed. The passionate affections of the youth — the profound feelings of the woman— the awakened tenderness of the mis- tress, loving, and conscious of being beloved, all overwhelmed the soul of Ida ; already she was on the verge of yielding to an influence she no longer wished to resist. Trembling with a two-fold emotion, she approached the door, which opened D 2 iZ WOMAN; OR, on the path where Osmyn stood ; she hesitated for a moment — her bosom throbbed — she panted for breath — the influence of love thrilled through a frame which love itself had formed— -the' power of an immaculate virtue lingered in that heart, which virtue had made her throne. Ida, agitated almost to dis- solution, draws back the bolt of one door, while she hears footsteps approach- ing the other, which led to her own apartment : a moment only is given her to decide, and love itself renders virtue victorious ! She fears for Osmyn even more than for herself ! She flings down . her letter from the casement — the strug- gle is over— she totters back, and is re- ceived in the arms of her paramana. The absence of Ida had only been discovered by her father, who had ob- served, during the evening, that agita- tion of soul, which the consciousness of a first imprudence had awakened, IDA OF ATHENS. *8 and which her natural and simple cha- racter was ill calculated to conceal. He had therefore visited her sleeping apartment, before he had retired to his rown ; and suspecting the object of her absence, had pursued, without betray- r mg her to the family. The paramana awakened by a chance from a profound sleep, had heard the footsteps of the agitated Ida, as she passed through her apartment to the kiosk ; and tremb- ling lest indisposition should have seized her, she flew to her assistance. The appearance of Ida sanctioned her fears — the paleness of death covered her face — its 'coldness was in her touch. She wns faint and motionless, and Kyra. scarce able to support her, bore her td her couch. The sweet waters which Kyra threw on her face, revived her ; and she had the presence of mind to plead a sudden illness, and to affect a 82*0*0; • D 3 54 WOMAN; OR, recovery and calmness, which soothed the fears of her nurse, who at last com- plied with her repeated requests, and left her to take that repose* which re- sembled the heavy insensibility that hangs on the harrassed feelings of a suf- fering and exhausted heart. To the violent tension of feelings, wrought up to their last excess ©f sen- sibility, a total relaxation of every fa- culty succeeded in the mind of Ida ; but the first beam of the dawn, in chas- ing from her pillow the torpid and im- refreshing repose which hung on it, re- vived her sense of those acute, anxieties, which had lulled her into a short oblivion of suffering, by the excess of suffering it- self. It is a sad and melancholy moment, when the chill gloom of a grey and comfortless dawn mingles its sombre influence with the awakening. remem- brance of an affliction, which a transient forgetfulness had banished from the , IDA OF ATHENS. 55 memory and the heart. Ida shuddered to reeollect she had solemnly renounced the only hope of happiness that she was. then capable of conceiving; and the triumph of virtue, proud and glorious as it was, had not yet in its result compen- sated the sacrifice which love had made. But the secret workings of the heart, always difficult to ascertain, even when least veiled from observation by the in- fluence of the passions, are inscrutable to the woman who loves with tender- ness, but not with prudence } and who, enamoured of virtue, centres her whole felicity in him whom virtue teaches her to forego. Ida felt (yet knew not) that a tender hope was gradually subduing the influence of a too prompt despair ; and that the tears that flowed from her eyes, -were not all tears of sadness. For proud in the capability of resign-, D 4 $«• TOMXV; on', ing him, on whom she doated, she was solaced in the conviction that she was still unresigned by him, to whom she was still dear. Voluntarily to wrench the heart from the felicity to which it clings, is a vio- lence done to nature, which nature al- ways resists, till time and inevitable des- tiny reconciles us to that, which we at first submit to without believing the possibility of the effort we have made. Certain of Osmyn having received her letter ! trembling, yet anxious to re- ceive his reply, she arose, and again visited the kiosk ; beneath the little frieze of the casement, the usual place of deposit, she found a paper which en- closed a leafless rose, a decayed sprig of melissa, and the following lines illegibly written with a pencil : ' IDA OF ATHENS. 57 TO THE ARCHQNDESSA ROSEMELI. " That it was not lov-e. which led thee to the cave of Apollo, thou hast thy- self asserted ; and I must now believe: that the much thou hadst to tell me,, is couched in the lines I have this night received, thou wouldst infer ! and I > must now suppose, or Ida never loved, , or loves no longer ! — or ! ■ Lady, thou didst once think me worthy of thy love ! and be the fate of that love what it may, Osmyn shall prove himself more worthy still to claim, and to obtain it. If it is virtue that deprives me of your heart, virtue shall yet restore it; but if 'tis woman's fickle fancy — if 'tis a rival's in- fluence—if — Ida — I may go mad — but . I can ne'er be vile. Thou mayest dis- tract, but fate itself can ne'er subdue d 6 48 WOMAN; OR, me ! Proscribed ! pursued ! unfriended and unknown, I am worthier thee, and freer, greater, happier still than Achmet- Aga in all his plenitude of pomp and power; happier, — Oh, Ida! — Farewell! Take back the flowers thy infant love bestowed ; they .are still symbolic of woman's fragile passion. But thou can'st not reclaim, nor restore the gem that recompensed the boyish effort, thy words converted to a patriot deed ; nor can'st thou e'er obliviate, or 1 forget,- that sentiment, that song, which waked the flame of glory, and my soul blended the love of woman and of fame ; and led me still to emulate those deeds which valiant men -perform, and creatures like thyself inspire, and recompense. Lady, farewell ! once thou didst bid me live alone for thee ; and I indeed too fatally obeyed thee. But that command with- drawn, and with it, that sweet fcope that IDA OF ATHENS. 59 made it so omnipotent, I live alone for virtue, freedom, and for Greece. " Osmyn/' 1 Ida covered this letter with her kisses, and bathed it with her tears. She saw in it all the traits that composed the cha- racter of Osmyn, tender, passionate, proud, dignified, and suspicious ; not that suspicion which proceeds from a want of confidence in others, or one- self: but that restless jealousy of spirit which accompanies an ardent and ty- rannic passion, which, though causeless, made the misery of his life, and would have hazarded the peace and happiness of her, who would have formed her destiny in his. She languished to assure him of her unalterable love ; to prove to him how unworthy and how unfounded were his D 6 So * WOMAN; OR, suspicions of the aga, and to convince, him that the moment in which she had resigned him for ever, was that in which he was most dear to her affections, most necessary to her happiness ; but the sa- crifice was made, and she had no appeal from misery and from affliction. The next day the archon, commend- ing his sons and family to his daughter's care, with all the careless security that belonged to his flexible and national cha- racter, embarked on the Egean Sea, to prosecute some commercial speculation, and Ida was left to the now gloomy soli- tude of her gymnasium. THE C0NSPIRAT0JIS. If an immortal heroism is always found rearing its laurelled head amidst the struggles of republican virtues in IDA OF ATHENi. Oi that stage of society, where wisdom constitutes the legislature — valour the commander — and the bright star of genius holds its ascendant in the galaxy of political consideration ; if there ex- ist in free governments certain springs to extraordinary exertion, which, when touched on by the pressure of circum- stances, act with boundless influence — if the milder virtues, the gentler merits, rise and expand in that state, where the just equipoise of power excites no rivalry, and the poverty of the nation preserves the virtue and felicity of the people ; it is under the goad and shackles of an oppressive tyranny, that human nature, borne down to its utmost power of sustention, by a bold and hazardous effort, rises to assert its rights. It is in the school of national adversity that patriotism and magnanimity receive their inspiration ; and the inborn vigour 62 ' WOMAN ; OR, of the high superior mind betrays its power of resistance, and fertility of re* source. It was in the reigns of Caesar and of Hippias, that Rome beheld her cham- pion in Brutus, and Athens in Harmo- dius. It was at the moment that the Turks tightened the chain of oppression round the necks of the Greeks, that its tension became the pre-disposmg cause of its fragility. The islands of the Archipelago had long been ripe for insurrection ; but the interesting, the affecting manifesto pre- sented to the empress of Russia, evinced that in Athens there still existed men capable of recalling the memory of their glorious ancestors*. But among the many little factions trhich private interest, intriguing cabal, and religious, bigotry gave birth to, in * See note ( b )v IDA OF ATHENS. , 63 the state, of Attica, there was one (and it was the least) which consisted chiefly of men in that era of life, when even the errors of humanity are but the false extremes of its unregulated vir- tues — when the feelings, fresh and sus- ceptible, still bear the brilliant gloss of unworn nature — when the vigour of manhood has steadied the impulsions of youth, and the experience of age has not yet chilled the ardour of hope. It consisted of men who, sufficiently educated to know the former glory of their wondrous country, sufficiently inde- pendent to afford leisure to meditate on its existing state, soon learnt to behold its pristine freedom and felicity through the medium of a national pride, and a high-coloured imagination, and to feel its actual slavery and living misery, > through the sympathy of mutual suffer- ing, and national sensibility. U WOMAN ; OR, With the classic dreams of ancient heroism floating in their vivid fancies— with the splendid monuments of their ancestors glory mouldering before their eyes — with the wounds of a ruthless op- pression rankling in their sensible hearts ; this little band of patriots stood alone ! they loved (heir country ! they deplored her injuries ! and they resolved to free " J her from the Turkish yoke, or perish amidst her ruins. It was from them that Osmyn had received the letter and the Arabian cour- ser; it was with them he had become co- alesced during the life-time of his friend, through the medium of Stamati ; and it was to them he presented the bequest of his generous benefactor, at a moment when the want of means to provide them- selves with arms alone prevented them from effecting those views, on which their virtues, rather than their prudence specu- lated. IDA OF ATHENS. £5 By this act, Osmyn had left himself almost destitute ; but little remained of a sum found in the casket of the caloyer monk ; but that little was suf- ficient for one whose wants were as moderate as his spirit was insatiable. By this act, he had also fixed himself so deeply in the confidence of the young conspirators, that uniting their sense of his disinterested liberality to their con- sciousness of his superiority in the use of arms, his valour, iiis genius, and eminent personal . endowments, they learnt to consider him as the guiding soul of their party, and elected him their chief, while uncertain whether he was not in worldly rank their inferior ! It is thus that genius and nature assert their great and powerful rights in moments of danger and exigency. The creative faculties of the superior mind are then alone resorted to — the command- fe? WOMAN; OR, ing energy of the physical strength is then depended on, and the high indis- putable nobility of soul forms the 'sole distinction, to which deference is paid— to which the homage of respect is offered. :JJt >. But Osmyn, while he daily grew with increasing influence on the hearts and admiration of his compatriots, suffered a passion to insinuate its power in his bo- som, which could alone successfully oppose itself to the cause in which he had so warmly embarked. As long as his love for Ida was but the pure affection of a spiritual inter- course, it mingled with his other views without destroying the energy with which they were pursued. But from the moment the full consciousness of being beloved, of forming the felicity, the very existence of a creature whose beauty, whose genius., whose virtue, and whose IDA OF ATHENS. 67 sensibility, placed her in his glowing fancy, as one beyond the power of hu- man rivalry ! .From the moment he had folded her to his heart — from the moment he had felt that gentle, ardent pressure, which spoke a soul love had wholly penetrated, he became lost to every thought but that which Ida in- spired ; and the most powerful, the most uncontroulable feeling of nature in that era of its existence, where it is most omnipotent, seized on every faculty of his beingy and for a period weaned him from a sentiment, which, however great and good, is still but a sentiment of duty and reflection, warmed by en- thusiasm, animated by associated affec- tions, and consecrated by approving vir- tue ! But the letter of Ida so unex- pectedly/received at a moment when love (inflamed by disappointment) led him to the casement, where more than 6S WOMAN; OR, once she had charmed his senses, and influenced his life, inflicted a wound in his tin prepared heart,' deeper than that his supposed rival had a short time be- fore meditated against it Counting on the nature of Ida's pas- sion by his own, without calculating on the feelings that impelled, and the cir- cumstances that governed her — without reflecting on the difference produced on the passions of the sexes, by the influ- ence of education ; and that the habitual restraint of woman becomes a faculty of his existence, which, when united to the influence of reason, to the power of a real or supposed virtue, enables her to sacrifice her life's dearest feelings, even though her life itself become the purchase of the effort ; he judged her conduct by his own, and believed her faithless, because his love, his character, and situation, all contributed to render him true. ■ ". IDA OF ATHENS. 69 ■ . ■■ ■ 'cii.lfa is thus that woman, who can scarcely even love with impunity, is judged by man, whose passions are licensed, and whose feelings are un- restrained. Sometimes he . believed her intimi- dated by the dangers which must inevi- tably attend their connexion, however pure and innocent it might continue — sometimes he believed^ the personal beauty, the rank, and passion of the aga, had influenced her conduct and her heart — sometimes he fancied her in- different, or capricious, that she looked down upon his hidden birth, and infe- rior rank; and this supposition, the most torturing of all, the indignant pride of his haughty character enabled him best to support- -and sometimes he resigned himself wholly to a confi- dence in her virtue, and her genius, which revived his love and admiration, ro WOMAN; OR, and taught liim to consider her conduct, as the result of that superior soul, Whose high perfections he for the first time so bitterly deplored. While all these various and contradictory feelings agitated his soul, as in the first tumult of resentment and despair he wrote that letter, which was the type of a still doating, but a still proud and suspicious heart, whose feelings he would sacrifice at the expence of his life, rather than have indulged them at the expence- of that dignity of mind, dearer than life itself. '* With an energy which drew its spirit and animation from the bitter overflow- ings of a disappointed passion, as yet in the first era of its unbridled emotion, he returned to that standard, from which that fatal and still secretly cherished, but openly abjured passion, had seduced him ; and, after an unusual absence of IDA OF ATHENS. 71 some nights, he appeared again, in the midst of the little band, who had ob- served his absence with a regret, which, without disturbing their confidence in bis attachment to their cause, taught them to feel the want' of that compre- hensive and ardent mind, on which their hopes, and even their unanimity depended ; since his superior genius formed a centre, to which their various views were drawn, and by which the incongruities of their vacillating opi- nions were always reconciled. The place of rendezvous which *the young conspirators had chosen, was a rude, grotto, excavavated in the base of the hill Museum, whose site had been anciently dedicated to warlike pur- poses*, and where, in a still remoter * The hill of Museus was a fort near the ci- tadel. Antigonous stationed a garrison there, and his son Demetrius surrounded it with a wall* ■ % 72 WOMAN; OR, day, the pupil of Orpheus, the inspired Museus, breathed his immortal strains to a delighted multitude. Every thing around them conspired to cherish that love of glory, that national pride, so nutritive to the spirit of patriotism ; and they deemed the place worthy the sa- cred purposes to which it was now de- voted. To the grotto of the museum, Osmyn adjourned on the night of that day, whose dawn had brought to his heart a pang so unexpected, so insupportable ; and whose anguish, by the Jrritation it communicated to his other feelings, gave a more poignant energy to the in- terest with which he again united him- self to a cause, to which his principles were invariably true, though his enthu- siasm suffered a temporary abatement. The appearance of Osmyn in the cave of the conspirators was hailed with de- light. Il seemed as if the soul was IDA OF ATHENS. 75 restored to the body, after a transient . suspension M its faculties. While his spirit was fired, his ambition was roused as he beheld himself surrounded by those young and vigorous persons, who . had so daringly embarked in the cause of their .country's freedom, and who looked up to him for counsel and sup- port ; while their bold and picturesque forms — the gloom and extent of the ca- vern — the arms which were strewed r Bound it— the pale flame of the lamp, which was suspended from the centre of its rude and vaulted roof; partially dispersed the mists of a close and pent- up air, and drew forth the faint scin- tillations of surrounding spars ;' all touch- ^jed his imagination, and gave a new and daring tone to his awakened mind, which silenced, without vanquishing, the tender feelings of a suffering and enamoured heart. # I V0L * IJ1, • E fi WOMAN; OR, His absence, which had excited a general emotion, was eagerly inquired into ; and his proscription, and the ne- cessity of caution and concealment, af- forded him a sufficient plea, which he blushed as he made, though it was re- ceived as a sufficient excuse. He was then informed that the pile of arms and ammunition which he beheld, had been landed in the depths of the preceding night, at the deserted port of the Pha- lerum; and that the little flotilla, which they had fitted out, was completely manned, and sanctioned by the French colours, which they had hoisted. A debate, the entrance of Osmyn had interrupted, relative to the plans of at- tack, and the time expedient for their execution, was now continued with spirit a id energy. It was now, too, Osmyn observed, that the band of patriots was nearly IDA OF ATHENS. 7S 'doubled since he had last appear- ed among them; that some Greek Turks, disaffected to the government, -and many whose lives and characters were but little consonant to the senti- ments they now professed, had crept among those whose principles and sen- timents rendered them worthy of the cause in which they had been the first to risk their lives and properties. Osmyn had observed the shyness which some of these strangers had be- trayed, when he was presented to them ; and the invidious smiles With which others had heard him addressed by the name of Leader, Compatriot, and Chief. The blood boiled in his swelling veins — his proud and haughty soul, ready to betray its own superiority, was restrained in its emotions by that ne- cessary caution, the cause, and not his e2 9$ woman; or, own safety inspired ; and he listened with suspicious attention to the various opinions delivered under the influence of different interests, and different views, as the spirit of patriotism — the seal of bigotry — the corruption of in- trigue — the desire of plunder, or the restlessness of unfixed principles, in- spired ; while he frequently beheld them all equally under the influence of that national spirit, whose gusts of passion, and vehemence of character, are so inimical to that firm stability, that cool, deliberative caution, which, though not wholly consonant to his own impe- tuous feelings, he looked on as greatly essential to the success of that enter- prize in which they had embarked. Meantime, arguments, drawn from various feelings, and from various views, now ran hioh, and an inflammatory) but inconclusive, speech, uttered by the IDA OF ATHENS. 77 young and vehement Stamati (who felt,- but never reasoned), was answered by a Greek Turk, advanced in years, whose countenance exhibited traits of dissimu- lation, art, and cunning. lie talked of the limitation of their number— the poverty of their resources — the necessary support of a foreign ally, and the power and vigilance of the ruling government. He seemed anxious to recruit the Russian atones, rather than to promote the cause of Liberty and Athens. Osmyn observed the in- fluence his persuasive words and ve- nerable air produced on the feelings of his too-susceptible auditors, and he arose to obviate the effects of his dangerous and insiduous arguments. He arose with that look of high command, and lofty superiority, which nature, ,and the dignity of his mind, shed over his per- fect form ; and his eloquence; forcible e 3 r« WOMAN; OR, and energetic, yet softened by the at- tractive graces of youth, played with the passions of his hearers, while it seized on their senses and their minds. He sought to rouse the slumbering spirit of the atbenians from the dream of timid caution, into which the artifice and corruption of the previous speaker had plunged them ; and be fired their souls, by representing the ancient glory of their country, through the brilliant prism of that national vanity which was always to be awakened. The glorious ardor, thus re-illumined, was diffused around with a contagious sympathy ; the light of patriotism seem- ed reflected from heart to heart, and the pure and social flame, thus spread around, became too bright and ardent to be easily extinguished. ' He thus catagorically answered the arguments of his opponent : IDA OF ATHENS. 7* •" We are not, it is true," he said, " all powerful- in number I — but it was a thousand Greeks alone defended their stations, liberty, and rights, against three millions of barbarians at Thermo- pylae ! " It is also true, that our resources, externally considered, are but mode- rate ; but the resources of brave men are in their hearts, and there they will be found exhaustless ! " You would convince us the Greeks can only fight with swords of foreign temper ! — but say, what foreign ally backed the Grecian forces at Marathon, or Mantinea? — And what is the tyrannic power of an unjust and cruel govern- ment against that band of patriots, whom freedom and humanity lead on, and love of country fires? " No ; blend but the private interests, in one great view of public -good, still be the E 4 80 WOMAN; OR, paramount wish, the nation's happiness : let but unanimity direct and bind you ; and tyranny, injustice, and fanatic zeal, shall then lie prostrate at the feet of public happiness, and victorious patri- otism r' He ceased; but enthusiasm and vir- tue still spoke eloquently in the lumi- nation of his expressive countenance, and the graceful dignity of his com* manding attitude. A burst of applause hung upon his words-v- it was loud and animated, but not general; and the son of a greek patriarch, lately inrolled among the patriots, who, in the absence of Osmyn, had distinguished himself by a fanatic zeal and a turbulent eloquence, now arose to speak. Envy of Osmyn 's superior talents, and still more, of his obvious and su- preme influence, instigated him to enter on a subject of discussion, on which he IDA OF ATHENS. 81 believed Osmyn incapable of toucbing, and which he hoped., would bring the religious prejudices of the assembly on his side, and turn the scale of feeling and opinion in his favor. He spoke of the disregard which had been hitherto shewn to all hope of „ as- sistance from heaven, for their cause — that no trust had been placed in that ruling power which governed the des- tiny of man, and that temporal views, and temporal hopes, seemed alone the objects of their exertions — that they sought not to glorify the Deity by their deeds, or to extend the true and only Church of Christ by their exertions. — He spoke of the extermination of the infidels, not upon a political, but a re- ligious principle, as a work worthy of the greek Christians ; and of bringing back, by fire and sword, the heretical sects of the Roskniki, and the Staro- £ 5 82 WOMAM; OR, vagi* to the orthodox faith ; and* he con- cluded with a longeulogiumon the purity, infalibility^and supremacy of the greek Church, under whose banners the greeks ought alone to fight, and hope to conquer. Puerile, cruel, and intolerant as were his arguments, he did not want for ad- herents, and did not speak without some shareof approbation and applause. Osmyn witnessed with impatience and contempt the result of the zealot's arguments. He again addressed himself to the as- sembly with an impetuosity dictated by his feelings. * The Greek, like every other, church, is di- vided into countless sects, who all oppose, despise, and hate each other with a violence that knows no bounds. The Roskniki and Starovagi are the most prevailing. The greek martyr, Formio, was burnt for professing the former sect, and for openly declaiming against the worship of images* He had been formerly a caloyer or monk. IDA OF ATHENS. 83 " They alone," said he, " place a confidence in heaven, who, con- quering the prejudices which the cre- dulity and imposition of man give birth to, see by the light of that reason which heaven has illuminated in their souls, arid act from the impulse of that sensibility which heaven has im- planted in their hearts. It is their dic- tates that convince us, that if the Deity can be glorified by man's inferior efforts, it is by promoting the happiness of man — by diffusing. round the power of bene- volence and truth — and by- developing those affections which are the sweet bonds of social love, and social hap- piness. " Whatarethecountless distinctions in opinions merely speculative r and uncon- nected with the moral or physical good of the human species, which dare asr sume the name of religion, and obsti» e6 84 WOMAN: OR, nately assert the obvious impossibility, that each is in itself infallible ? What are they in his eyes, who knows no re- ligion but that which is of the heart, which in theory is so comprehensible, in practice so divine ? " Athenians ; descendants of rhe con- querors of Asia ! of those who polished^ while they awed the world ! you whom a transient flame of patriotism fired ! is the pure spark so soon extinct? Are you subdued by words, who aimed at deeds? Are you, who sought to free your country, and set a bright example to mankind, to stoop to wear the chains of bigotry ? Once we knew no dis- tinctions but that which vice and virtue, or slavery, or freedom,, made; but now the infidel and faithful Roskniki and Starovagi divide, and arm us in their re- spective causes ; and they, whom liberty and virtue animated, who fought for 4 IDA OF ATHENS. 85 Greece, humanity, and freedom, are now become the intollerant champions of some pious dogma, they cannot feel, and do not understand. Go, go ; chuse out another leader! It was to men and patriots I bound my fate, not to secta- rians and croisaders.'' A violent tumult now arose : the in- timate friends of Osmyn and the parti- sans of Greece gathered round him, ♦ exclaiming, " You are our only leader, and freedom still our cause \" ' , Others vehemently cried, «* No alien leader ! — no slave ! — no foundling for our chief!" While a few, tossing up their caps, exclaimed, " Long live the defender of the Holy Greek Church : we elect him in 'the name of the sacred Panaghea; down with the infidels and heretics--the true believers for ever !" Itwasinthis moment of universal con- sternation and uproar, that the greeks, SS WOMAN; OR, who were always placed at an outpost to prevent a surprize, rushed into the cave, and with terror that rendered them almost unintelligible, proclaimed the ap- proach of an armed force, which was already descending the .hill of the Acro- polis, led on by the disdar-aga himself. The tone of the general perturbation was now wholly changed ; and a mo- ment of indescribable emotion, surprize, and horror, ensued. The blood mantled to the cheek of the brave ; it chilled round the trembling heart of the feeble. They who had mistaken impulse for principle, now felt the self-deception ;, and they whom other sentiments than those of virtue had influenced, trembled, and were dismayed: all f were moved — but Osmyn least of all. He had in- stinctively seized on arms. His heart throbbed with an emotion it would have been more want of sensibility than of 3 IDA OF ATHENS. 87 spirit not to have felt ; but; he stood alone, firm, dignified, and collected. He felt like a patriot — he felt like a man —and he looked like a hero! Every eye was turned on him, for the noble tranquillity of his air was in- spiring. An hundred voices supplicated him for advice and counsel. a pavement dved with blood, and sometimes strewed with mangled bodies, was still unequal to daunt her mind, or chase her from the object of her research. She flies from street to street — she uncovers the distorted countenance — she examines the mangled features ; despair and madness point her wild and wandering glance. A janissary patrole seizes her by the arm, she is insensible to his threats, a laugh of frenzy braves his useless rage. The mussulman, (with the prejudices of vol. in. F 98 WOMAN; OR, his religion) respects her apparent in- sanity, and she continues ^er melan- choly pilgrimage unopposed. She seeks the friend of her soul, she seeks him in death, and finds him not ! For a moment the conviction strikes her that he lives! She knows, she feels, he has not fled ; and the more terrific, the less noble, death that now awaits him, flashes on her appalled heart, with a new sense of horror ! Unimpeded by the soul-harrow- ing objects that lie exposed to her view, she flies with the rapidity of light- ning to the Acropolis, but the gates which lead to the citadel are closed ; the spahis that guard it, are doubled in their usual number; and the armed castriani that crowd the battlements, appear like an army. The sufferer applies for admittance to one of the sentinels ; he turns scoffingly fromi her — she supplicates another, he IDA OF ATHENS. 99 trifles brutally with her feelings ; and a fourth, struck by her youth and beauty, seizes her by the arm ; she bursts from his grasp ! he points his zatagan at her bosom, and she sinks lifeless at his feet. At that moment the vigilant, the con- . quering Achmet-aga approaches, accom- panied by his Capadilger Keayassa, to visit the guards. Amazed, he recognizes the person of the prostrate unfortunate. It was the saint that had charmed his eyes in the mekkeme ; it was Ida, the daughter of the archon Rosemeli ; he raised her in his arms, and she was con- veyed by his orders, to an apartment in the citadeh Tff t|c TJT Tf? 3(c "Sjc sje t|c Tfc "5(f Tf? * Al> ■£• Jtd %|i , \b vje ^r Tfp Tfp Tff if? vfz ifr Tf; w The triumph of the disdar-aga was now complete ; he had effaced the stain of being vanquished by Osmyn when they were singly opposed to each other 3 100 WOMAN; OR, by having in his turn become the van- quisher, though by means so much less noble, that even he was not insensible to their disparity. He had now in his hands the life of the rival whom he hated, and the person of the woman he loved. The worst passions of his nature blended their influence in his soul ; and his profound policy and daring ambition alone opposed themselves to their im- mediate gratification. In endeavouring to crush the little band of patriots in Athens, the disdar- aga had nothing less in view than pro- moting the interests of that government to which no mind could attach kself from principle or affection, and to which he had long been false from secret mo- tives of interest or ambition. He had even slumbered over the conspiracy, that he might have a fuller power to cut IDA OF ATHENS. 201 off by a single blow those who were the most likely to oppose his intentions. A government which is erroneous in its fundamental principles, whose basis is false to the laws of nature and huma- nity, and whose law is the despotic will of the ruling power, or the dogma of a bigoted superstition, bears within it- self the seeds of its own destruction ; and by its natural re-action, becomes the inevitable victim of its own tyranny. The governors of the provinces in Turkey maintain their power by tributes to the porte, levied on the wretches whom they rule; and when the go r vernor, by avarice and rapacity, esta- blishes his independence, and seduces the troops to his interest, he frequently rebels, and testifies his disposition to mutiny, by withdrawing his remittances to the porte. Such had long been the ability, and f 3 m WOMAN; OR, such the views of the disdar-aga. His talents, his military skill, and popularity among the janissaries. His riches, and the civil government having, almost wholly devolved into his hands by the imbecility of his brother, rendered him peculiarly adapted for an enterprize in which so many others, with qualities greatly inferior to his, had succeeded. He had won over all the turks of Li- vadia to his side. The troops, though not numerous, were devoted to him; and many of * the opulent greeks who hated the government, without cherish- ing that love of country which could openly inspirit them to oppose tyranny for the love of freedom alone, sought a change, and sought it under the standard of him, whose power they con- ceived to be their safety and protection. -It was undec. the sanction of circum- stances such as these, that the disdar aga IDA OF ATHENS. i<& had made no remittances to the porte for the government, which he and his brother held between them for the last year ; and his recent triumph over those whom he termed the rebels, gave him a new influence over his partizans, and accelerated the accomplishment of his long-cherished desires, to become the independent governor of all Livadia. The extension of his own individual authority, like that of many other mi- nisters in states, better organized, was paramount to every other consideration. It was not the rebels he wished to sup- press — it was- not the government he wished to serve — it was his own per- sonal advantage he was anxious to se- cure : they were the passions of avarice and ambition he wished to gratify. But though he knew he should find among the degenerate greeks many who would readily sacrifice their country to i 4 ! 3©4 WOMAN; OR, their interests or their fears — many whom a toy would bribe, or a sound seduce — whom the rentage of a petty government, or a title of nominal im- portance, would influence ; yet he wished to blend, to confirm, his influence over their minds, by blending his interests with that of one of the aichontic fami- lies, who still preserved among them a shadow of respectability, and the sem- blance of their ancient consequence. N Upon this principle he had early con- nected himself with the vain, the weak Rosemeli. And his union with his daughter, whose talents and whose charms had rendered her so popular in Athens, was an object which his desires and his ambition equally, coveted. He was well aware that the religious and national prejudices of the archon were all against him ; but he believed IDA OF ATHENS. 105 if the fre6 will of Ida made her his, those prejudices were to be reconciled. She was now in his power; but he dared not abuse it to the extent his pas- sions and her charms would had him. He wished to conciliate the greeks; and he knew that a violation of a certain sense of honour drove them to frenzy, and that even the sultan himself could not oppose this ancient principle with impunity. But he was determined that, before the sun set, Ida Rosemeli should be his wife ; and he believed he had then in his power the means to render the act as apparently voluntary on her side, as it had long been desired on his. He would then, in the moment that his re- cent victory had intimidated the greeks, present himself to their eyes as the hus- band of the noblest of their women, whom he would pledge himself to make ? ,5 106 WOMAN ; OR, his sole wife — as the opposer of their tyrants — the friend of their interests — the commander whom the troops had elected i — and the begler-bey of the province of Livadia. Such was the result of an hour's- secret meditation which he had indulged in, after having conveyed the lifeless form of Ida to the Acropolis. THE NUPTIALS. From the oblivion of a transient in- sensibility, Ida at last recovered to a perfect sense of her misery. She re- membered to have been deprived of reason near the gate of the Propyleum ; and she but too keenly recollected the cause that had brought her there. But she understood not the circumstances in which she was at present involved : she was lying on an ottoman, her head was IDA OF ATHENS. f 0/ supported by an old moorish woman,/ and a slave, engaged in chafing her temples, knelt beside her. They spoke to each other in a language she did not understand; but when she addressed the woman in Greek, and demanded where she was, the slave replied, " In the citadel, in the residence of the disdar- aga." Ida shuddered ! but every other feeling was overwhelmed in that of love, and grief, and anxiety for their object. And after the cogitation of a few moments, she requested they would lead her to the aga. The slave replied, * We have no- orders for that, but the disdar shall know your wish." And he opened the door of an anti-room, and deli- vered the message to another person. The quick glance of Ida perceived that the room was filled with soldiers, an