mingled emotions of disgust and pain, I sensibly felt the debasement of being the slave of a luxurious Turk.
I was now, indeed, wretched and oppressed with mental anguish, until at last my outraged feeling could no longer sustain the shock A delirious fever seized me. Bereft of my senses, I know not what further took place at that time. The Dey has since informed me that a considerable time elapsed ere he found out my loss of reason, but immediately he ascertained the state I was in, he was compelled to desist by his religion, for it is sacrilege to touch or injure any person, Turk or Christian, who is deranged. Every advice and medical assistance were immediately procured to restore my senses, which was soon effected; and when my health was again sufficiently reestablished to enable me to receive his visits, again was I compelled in silence to resign myself to his infamous desires, until by repeated engagements I became accustomed to his proceedings. But the only result is, if anything, an augmentation of my disgust and horror. By my submission I was reinstated in his affections, and everything proceeds as usual. But the charm is broken. It is true he can, when he pleases, bewilder my senses in the softest confusion; but when the tumult is over, and my blood cooled from the fermentation he causes-when reason resumes its sway, I feel that the silken cords of affection which bound me so securely to him have been so much loosened that he will never again be able to draw them together so closely as they were before he subdued me to his abominable desires.
My depression of spirits made me quite the laughing stock of the Italian woman and the French woman, who were perfectly acquainted with the cause. They affected to despise my feelings. The only consolation I received was from the Grecian girl, with whom I had become extremely intimate and to whom I was much attached. She was a beautiful girl, tall and slender; her face was rather pale and languid, overcast with a melancholy resignation, but her light-blue eyes were mild and expressive as the soft ray of an autumnal moon tingeing a fading evening sky. With the help of books I had been able to teach her the English language, and her progress in attaining it was almost incredible. We could now converse freely together, and mourn over our misfortunes and captivity. I shall narrate her distressing history in nearly the same words as she stated it to me.
History of Adianti the Grecian Slave My name is Adianti. I was born in the delightful island of Macaria, where my father was a merchant, called Theodoricus. I am his only child. Like all Greeks or Christians who reside under the power of Turks, my father was obliged to live in a style of the utmost simplicity.
It was only by stealth he ventured on any little luxurious indulgence, well knowing that the governor of the district was upon the watch to pounce upon him the moment he made a show of property. Slavery, the most powerful agent in the degradation of mankind, has given to the modern Greeks a melancholy propensity to indulge in all kinds of gloomy presages and forebodings. I was not exempt from the feelings of my countrymen, and my very name, being that of one of the Danaides, whenever I heard it mentioned, always carried an ominous feeling to my heart.
In our neighbourhood resided a youth named Demetrius, the only son of an aged and infirm widow. He was born for a land of freedom, and one might have predicted from his appearance that he was destined to chafe and struggle not a little under the restraints and mortifications which ever fall to the lot of those who show the least spirit of independence. His stature was tall; he carried his head higher than a Bashaw; he was of easy carriage, and his body as straight as a palm; active and graceful in his walk, clear in his eye, and impatient of insult to the last degree. He was eloquent, poetical, romantic, enterprising and a lover of the arts-he could have achieved great things had his lot been cast in a more happy age and country. Were he now living he would be foremost among the heroes who are defending our religion.
An ancient intimacy had subsisted between our families, and we were much together. Demetrius had never exhibited any particular marks of affection for me, yet I cannot deny that I had for some time cherished a growing preference for the handsome, high-spirited companion of my youth. It was the superstitious feeling I have before mentioned that induced me to consult the Oracle of the Sweet Waters as to how my young passion for Demetrius would thrive; and I returned from my enquiry disconsolate and overpowered, as all the answers of the oracle turned out unfavourable to my hopes. Under the dominion of a long cherished superstition, handed down from generation to generation, and sanctioned by the examples of all around, I would as soon have thought of counteracting the declared decrees of providence as of cherishing a hope in opposition to the oracle. You may suppose my agitation on being informed by my father that he was going to the governor to request permission for our marriage. With trembling anxiety I waited the result. Our governor was a Bashaw of three tails who, although a native of Stampalier and originally a Latin Christian, had long ago changed the cross for the crescent Ali Ozman was the Turkish name he assumed. It is usual, in asking a favour of our governors, to accompany it with a present. The one my father carried with him in support of his petition did not exactly please Ozman (for, of course, my father was afraid of exciting suspicions of his wealth by being too liberal), and Ozman received it with contemptuous indifference. Though he had turned Turk, he had enough of the Latin Christian in him to hate one of the Greek church mortally. My father prostrated himself three times as he presented his offering. ‘Is thy daughter handsome, Christian dog?' asked Ozman. At this, a French renegade, who had insinuated himself into the confidence of Ozman, whispered to him that I was the fairest virgin in the isle.
Ozman considered a few moments, and said with a smile, ‘I accept thy present, and permit thy daughter to wed the young Greek on condition that thou grant a feast before the marriage, and bid me be a guest.' My father returned home in a melancholy mood, and gave direction for the preparation of the feast and the reception of the cruel Ozman. From a sudden recollection of the disastrous omen of the oracle, darker and more dreary became my thoughts than they had ever been since the hour I became convinced Demetrius loved me. He also all that day seemed labouring under a depression, and departed early in the evening oppressed by vague forebodings he could not define. The feast was, however, prepared, the company bidden and, after waiting a considerable time for the arrival of Ozman, who did not appear, the ceremony proceeded with Demetrius and myself each choosing a godfather to attend us. At the altar we were met by the aged papa, or Greek priest, who, after blessing two crowns of foliage intertwined with ribbons and laces, placed them on our heads. He then in like manner blessed two rings, one of silver, the other of gold, placing the former on my finger, the latter on that of Demetrius. After these rings had been exchanged and we had taken our vows, the old priest was preparing to distribute the bread and wine which was to conclude the ceremony when a light strain of Turkish music at a distance caught our attention. In a little while Ozman was seen advancing at the head of twenty or thirty of his guards. Demetrius earnestly besought the priest to finish the ceremony before the barbarians should arrive to interrupt it, but the old man trembled so that the wine was spilled and the consecrated bread fell from his hands. In a few moments Ozman and his train entered the church with their scimitars drawn and scattered the bridal train, leaving me, my father, Demetrius and the priest alone at the altar.
'Stop, dog!' cried Ozman. ‘I forbid the marriage in the name of the prophet.'
'It is too late,' replied the old priest, meekly.
'Be silent, Christian dog! or I will stop thy howlings,' Ozman cried. ‘But what is this I smell-wine? You have been carousing, you swine! You have been swilling of that accursed beverage abhorred by Allah, and denounced by his Prophet. It is enough; seize the virgin and trample into dust all that oppose us.' During the whole of the fateful proceedings my poor father supported himself against the side of the smouldering altar in speechless horror. I could not speak, but my eyes were fixed on Demetrius, whose inflexible silence I but too well understood. The youth was too indignant to speak, but the clenched hands, quivering lips and blazing eye spoke a prologue to opposition and vengeance.
'Seize the virgin!' repeated Ozman, ‘she will be only too honoured and happy to escape the pollution of this blaspheming wine bibber.'
Ozman advanced as he uttered these insulting words. At that instant Demetrius sprang like lightning upon the foremost of the ravishers, and wrenched the scimitar from his hand before he was aware of his purpose. He rushed on Ozman: the first blow made his scimitar fly ringing into the air, the second was arrested by one of the guards, which saved the life of the tyrant, who exclaimed, almost choking with passion, ‘He has struck a Mussulman; he has outraged the law of the Prophet; he has polluted the person of the representative of the Commander of the Faithful. Hew him to the earth! cut him into atoms! scatter his flesh to the beasts of the field! let the dogs feed on the Christian reptile!' The crisis was come; my poor father took courage from despair, and seizing upon Ozman's scimitar, which still lay upon the ground, placed himself besides Demetrius, determined to share his fate and the with him. Guess my indescribable anguish. I was seized by several of the guards, whilst others attacked my father and lover. A desperate conflict ensued. My father fought bravely, but soon fell dead by the side of Demetrius, who had rushed towards the tyrant thinking he had him within his power, but a scimitar from behind had cleaved open his head. He sank on the ground never more to rise. At this dreadful sight my senses forsook me,
