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THE 
 
 EMPIRE OF THl^ NAIRS; 
 
 OR, lEE 
 
 MIGHTS OW WVOMEN. 
 
 AN 
 
 UTOPIAN ROMANCE, 
 
 3fn ^toliie IBoak^, 
 
 BY JAMES LAWRENCE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " THE BOSOM FRIEND," '' LOVE, AN ALLEGORY,' 
 
 ETC. 
 
 Genus huic matema superbum 
 Nobilitas dabat, incertum de patre ferebat, 
 
 ViRG. ix. 341. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 )ecorili ©Irtttan, 
 
 PRINTED FORT. HOOKHAM, JUN. AND E. T. HOOKIIAM, 
 NO. 15, OLD BOND STREET, 
 
V, I 
 
 Vigurs, Printer, 14, York Strtet, 
 Corent Garder., London. 
 
V >■ 1 . • 
 ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 The author of this work being in Ger- 
 many in 1793^ communicated his essay 
 on the Nair system to the celebrated 
 Wi eland ; and that amiable poet and 
 enlightened philosopher did him the ho- 
 nor to publish it in his German Mercury, 
 one of the most celebrated periodical 
 works in the empire. 
 
 The Romance was finished in 1800. 
 The immortal Schiller^ that sublime ge- 
 nius and profound historian, who has 
 been styled the Shakespeare and Robert- 
 son of his nation, having seen the manu- 
 script, spoke of it so favorably, that the 
 professor Unger received it into the Jour- 
 nal dei^ Romane for 1801, mider the title 
 of '^ Das Paradies der LiebeJ" It has 
 since appeared under the title of *^ Das 
 Reich der Nalrenr 
 
VI ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 In 1803^ being detained in France^ the 
 author attempted a French translation, 
 which has been pubhshed under the title 
 of *' L Empire des Nairs''' 
 
 Notwithstanding the flattering manner 
 in which this work has been received on 
 the continent, the author has been conti- 
 nuall}^ revising it ; but having lately heard 
 that a man of letters has not only trans- 
 lated it into English, but has already deli- 
 vered his manuscript to a bookseller, he 
 feels the necessity of not longer delaying 
 this publication, which, whatever may be 
 its success, must be more acceptable to 
 tiie public than a literal translation of the 
 lirs-t German edition. 
 
 A few extracts from the following Re- 
 views will shew the light, in which this 
 work has been considered in Germany, 
 The other jo'jrnals held nearly the same 
 i;ioguage. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. Vll 
 
 Hamburg Review^ Novemher 1801. 
 
 The Paradise of Love is awork perfectly original, 
 and will in many respects make a new era in Euro- 
 pean culture. It contains the freest principles on 
 the connection between the two sexes, and proposes 
 a system of love which would render mortals happy 
 as the gods. The customs of almost all natious, and 
 their opinions on love and marriage, are detailed in 
 this work ; but not in the manner of Barthelemy's 
 A^nacharsis, who relates his own travels ; here a 
 poetic necessity produces the most interesting mate- 
 rials, and unites them in a point of view which 
 affords the most multifarious delight, &;c. 
 
 GotJia Revzezv, October 1802. 
 
 The author adopts the principles of Mrs. Wol- 
 f^tonecraft, but his plan is more extensive and con- 
 sistent. He accuses marriage of being a yoke for 
 life ; he speaks with severity, but with eloquence. The 
 intention of this romance is to show the possibility 
 of a nation attaining the highest civilization without 
 marriage. 
 
 We are far from blaming the author for this para- 
 dox ; on the contrary ; though what he has advanced 
 has not decided the cause, we confess candidly that 
 his work contains much truth, and that his ideas 
 merit to be examined with attention. 
 
 An overthrow of ail our institutions to adopt his 
 plan, if it were possible, were not desirable ; but 
 nevertheless it is an advantage, and a step toward 
 improvement, to learn, in our moral and judicial or- 
 dinances, to distinguish what has been inspired by 
 nature and reason, from what has originated in cus- 
 tom and prejudice. To illustrate these truths, should 
 be the design of such fictions as the history of the 
 Severambiansj the Utopia^ &c. 3 this design they are 
 
Vlll ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 calculated to accomplish, and to this class belong? 
 the Paradise of Love. 
 
 It cannot be denied that the author possesses 
 the talent of making all the inconveniences, the 
 contradictions, and horrors of our institutions pass 
 before our eyes ; and though they are sometimes 
 connected in rather too marvellous a manner, he 
 enchai IS the attention of the reader by the abun- 
 dance of events, &c. 
 
 Gottingen Review^ March 1803. 
 
 Tf this work were a mere novel, we, according to 
 the practice of our review, should take no notice of 
 it at all, or at most should confine ourselves to a cou- 
 ple of lines ; but it is evident, from the whole vrork, 
 that it is essentially diiferent from a novel . The ideas 
 which the author wishes to bring into circulation are 
 truly cosmopolitical|^'' An other circumstance must 
 interest a German public, it is an Englishman who 
 writes in German. 
 
 The author makes use of a romance to recommend 
 to all civilised nations the system of gallantry that 
 exists or rather existed formerly among the Xairs. 
 He has performed his literary achievement in a spi- 
 rited and an heroic manner ; he has imagined and 
 related of the consequences of marriage, as established 
 by the laws and customs of every nation, all that 
 could be imagined and related. We have found no- 
 thing offensive in the author's principles. He seems 
 to us only to have given a new form to a parLof 
 the republic of Plato, in which the community of 
 women is in the same manner ennobled by moral and 
 political syllogisms. Vve even think that the ac- 
 complishment of the author's ideas, under certain 
 circumstances, would not be impossible, and that 
 his picture of the unhappy consequences of our 
 marriages is but little exaggerated, &c. 
 
fntrflTrufti0n. 
 
 AN ESSAT ON THE 
 
 NAIR SYSTEM OF GALLANTRY AND 
 INHERITANCE; 
 
 SheKi?ig its advantages over marriage^ in insuring 
 an indubitable birth^ and being favorable to 
 population^ to the rights of women^ and to the 
 active genius of men. 
 
 THE NAIRS. 
 
 X HE Nairs are the Nobility of the Malabar Coast, 
 and affirm that they are the oldest in the Avorld. 
 They are mentioned in the most ancient writers of 
 Indostan. It is the privilege of the Nair lady to 
 choose and change her lover. When he visits her, 
 he ualks round the house, and strikes with his sabre 
 on his buckler, as a signal of his approach. To 
 announce his presence to any rival, he, if admitted, 
 leaves a domestic with his arms in a kliid of porch. 
 VOL. I. b 
 
 I 
 
11 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The mdther only has the charge of the children ; 
 . and even the Samorin and the other princes have 
 no other heirs than the children of their sisters, 
 that, having no family, they May be always ready to 
 march against an enemy. When the nephews are 
 of an age to bear arms, they follow their uncle. 
 The name of a father is unknown to a Nair child ; 
 he speaks of the lovers of his mother, and of his 
 uncles, but never of his father. 
 
 Such are the Nairs. At present they are to be 
 found chiefly on the Malabar coast. The mighty- 
 empire, which is ceded to them in this novel, like 
 Brobdinag and Lilliput, will be found in no book 
 of geography. Indostan is in fact governed by 
 Sultans, Subahs, Rajahs and Nabobs, and not di- 
 vided into principalities and baronies. A feudal 
 government has been given to this Utopia, because, 
 if the Nair system be compatible with a government 
 where all the distinctions, privileges and immunities 
 «f birth are in force, there can be less doubt of its 
 possibility under a more simple constitution. The 
 Paradise of the Mothersons is merely ideal ; but for 
 the customs and opinions of Persia and other eastern 
 nations, the most creditable authors have been con- 
 sulted ; and many of the European anecdotes are 
 founded on facts. This work was designed to shew 
 the possibility of a nation's reaching th(f highest 
 civilization without marriage. This may seem a 
 
INTRODUCTION. Ul 
 
 paradox, *•' Car on est convenu^^^ says Mercier^ 
 "• (Vappeller de ce n&m toute verite,nau^velle, gut 
 n'apas c7ico3'e eu son passeport.^'* r . 
 
 However singular this system may at first appear, 
 the Nairs maintain that it is the system of nature. 
 " All the other animals are free in love, and to the 
 mothers alone falls the care of the offspring. Whjj 
 has mankind deviated from a system which, from 
 analogy, we may pronounce the original system of 
 our species ? Marriage, whenever it was intro- 
 duced, was an innovation. Let not our system be 
 deemed unnatural, because confined to so small a 
 portion of mankind ; if numbers were the test of 
 truth, Christianity must give way to Mahometanism, 
 monogamy to polygamy. It not only has always 
 existed among ourselves, who have preceded other 
 nations in civilization, but is practised by some of 
 the tribes in America, whose savage state approaches 
 ihe nearest to the state of nature." 
 
 Such are the arguments with which the Nairs 
 vindicate their system. But, without discussing its 
 origin, let us consider its advantages. 
 
 Marriage is a domestic yoke, the Nair system 
 the freedom of nature. 
 
 There is implanted in the mind of man such a 
 
 repugnance to rcstrlcticn, that every pleasure ceases 
 
 when it assumes the appearance of a duty. Should 
 
 wine be prescribed as medicine to the drunkard, he 
 
 b 2 
 
IV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 would loath it as the bitterest drug ; and the youth, 
 who spurns at the counsels of his governor, will 
 follow the advice cf a friend. The least unnecessary 
 compulsion is a wanton sacrifice of happiness. May 
 one not doubt of the necessity of a constrained 
 fidelity ? no obserTation of the animal world can 
 justify the measure. 
 
 A pair may have Towed a mutual constancy *• ; 
 but is man, who is not to be depended on in the most 
 immaterial affairs, who rejects every acquisition so 
 soon as possessed, and sighs for every untasted en- 
 joyment; who forsakes his friends and his hom^e, 
 and roams from land to land in search of amuse- 
 ment ; who changes his passions and opinions as 
 frequently as his jeweller changes the shape of his 
 trinkets, and his taylpr the fashion of his coat ; is 
 man capable of promising any permanent thing ? 
 Should he, whose reason is so deadened by habit, or 
 misguided by prejudice ; whose temper is so variable 
 as the atmosphere which he breathes ; ^vho is differ- 
 ent Avhen in the vigor cf health or in the languor of 
 sickness, and whose camelion temper may display a 
 
 * Le premier sennent, q«e sc firent deux etres de chair, ce 
 fut au pied d'un rocber, qui tombait en poussiert ; ils altes- 
 lerent de leur Constance un ciel qui n'est pas uii instant le 
 mewe, tuut passait eo eux, et autour d'eux, et ils croyaient 
 leur coeurs affranchis de vicissitudes. O enfaus ! toujours 
 enfans !— Dideuoi j Jacques et son mailie. 
 
INTRODUCTION. V 
 
 new hue to-morrow ; should he assume the language 
 of infallibify, or, like thethundcrer of the heathens, 
 sanction with an irrevocable nod the acts of his pre- 
 sumption ? Experience is the prerogative of age, 
 and every day may bring its portion of wisdom, 
 Wliat rational being, therefore, would refuse this 
 advantage, or madly shut his eyes against the rays 
 of conviction ? HoAvever great one's sagacity, 
 every addition of wisdom may set one's actions in 
 so new a light, that one may doubt of their pro- 
 priety ; no mortal, therefore, should subject him- 
 self to an eternal obligation. 
 
 During a ceurtship, each party being attentive to 
 appear amiable in the eyes of the other, it is difficult ^ 
 to discover the real character of either. They are *» 
 in masquerade ; they are acting a comedy, in which 
 perhaps the knave and dupe are united in the same 
 character. The family despot is humble and sub- 
 missive, the vainest egoist forgets his own merits, 
 the sensualist conceals his irregularity, the sloven, 
 affects the beau, and the sportsman prefers his mis- 
 tress to his horse. The character of the bride is 
 equally impenetrable. The coquet assumes the lan- 
 guage of sentiment, and, while secretly sighing for 
 the pleasures of fashionable life, appears the good 
 housewife to lier domestic lover. But perhaps she 
 has no character at all ; it is still unformed ; she 
 has never been her own mistress. How often has 
 
1^1 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 she, who before marriage promised to be a Cornelia, 
 become a Messalina afterward. 
 
 But, soon as the fatal knot is tied, the sun of 
 reason will dissipate the vapors of passion, and 
 exhibit in ' their true colors those scenes Avhich the 
 fairy fiction of a creative imagination has misrepre- 
 sented. When the hour of retraction . is passed, 
 they will shudder at the precipice into which they 
 have fallen ; but what Dedalian genius will be able 
 to snatch them from the labyrinth? Too soon, 
 alas, they are convinced of the impossibility of their 
 TOWS. Can a duration of love be expected, when 
 the objects are unworthy of esteem ? /» Can a man of 
 [virtue honor a woman destitute of morality ?^or 
 Srhould a woman of sense be required to obey a fool ? 
 Happy is the he.art, which, from a want of feeling, 
 can support the failings of a beloved object, when 
 the hand of time has torn away the mask of delu- 
 sion ; for soon may the most delicate sensibility be 
 submitted to the caresses of the reeling drunkard, 
 and the thunder of the knocker alone announce to 
 the domestic husband the return of the female rake. 
 Weary of the yoke, which prevents his forming any 
 honorable connection, he endeavors to forget his 
 chagrin in the arms of some mercenary Lais. His 
 spouse retaliates, by casting an eye of invitation ou 
 some new favorite. Thus the children of a stranger 
 Succeed to his paternal inheritance, while his own 
 
INTRODUCTION. VII 
 
 offspring must cat the bread of misery, and perhaps 
 end a life of wickedness by a death of infamy. 
 
 How wretched is that person, who, being blinded 
 by youthful passion, has made a sacrifice of liberty 
 to one who is incapable of gratitude or tenderness ; 
 and whose marriage is the only cbstablc to a union 
 with an other, who may possess every amiable qua- 
 lity. To this person what reasonable judge would 
 deny a divorce ? or to the sole descendant of an 
 illustrious house, disappointed by the sterility of his 
 consort in his hopes of an heir ? And though false 
 delicacy may forbid her to seek redress, no philan- 
 thropist can fail to pity the deluded female, in the 
 bloom of youth consigned to the embrace of frigid 
 impotence. 
 
 Even though neither of the parties may have been 
 deceived, and nature may have bestowed upon the 
 amiable couple every endowment of the mind, and 
 every personal grace, and art have distinguished 
 them w ifh a multiplicity of accomplishments ; yet 
 the heart of man is subject to change, and his pas- 
 sion for variety a general proverb. All the quali- 
 ties of each may not be able to compensate in the 
 eyes of the other the want of the most trivial re- 
 commendation : the superior minuet of a new-seen 
 gallant, or the voice of an opera girl, may destroy 
 the peace of a family. Tiien, if they yield to their 
 inclinations, their vows will only be a source of 
 vexation ; but if they resolve to maintain their obli- 
 
VIU INTRODUCTION. 
 
 gations, each will be forced to feed on the unnatu- 
 ral expectation of the death of the other, while po- 
 pulation, the end of their uuion, suffers from their 
 determinations. 
 
 Even when his consort is confessedly superior to 
 her rival, the pampered mortal will grow weary of 
 her superiority and pay divine honors to the first 
 Dulcinea ; even though it were surrounded by a de- 
 sert, man w ould leap over the bounds of a paradise. 
 How seldom is the female seducer a Lais, who tri- 
 umphed over the understanding of every philoso- 
 pher, and over the heart of every hero of her time. 
 
 But it will be said, it is the duty of the legislator 
 to correct and not to flatter the faults of man ; but 
 is this love of variety really a fault ? The Nairs 
 maintain that there is no more reason, in enacting 
 that a man should love a woman to-morrow because 
 he may love her to-day, than there would be iu 
 compelling a man to dance at the next ball with his 
 partaer at the last. 
 
 But wedlock is not only a cruel, but a partial 
 yoke. Marriage is a prison that confines both 
 man and wife; but, as, in a jail, one prisoner may 
 exerqise over an other the functions of a turnkey, so 
 the husband is the most favored of the two : but 
 would they not be happy in making their escape 
 together ? Can the authority of a turnkey reconcile 
 any prisoner to his detention? 
 
 A lover extols his mistress into a deity, and 
 
INTRODUCTION. IX 
 
 pxults ill paying her divine honors. What taste in 
 every ornament of her dress ; what expression in 
 eveiy feature of her countenance ! Her mien is the 
 mien of Venus, her air has the majesty of Juno, the 
 ■Nvit of Minerva graces her conversation ; her image 
 embellishes the solitary walk, her smile gilds the 
 midnight dream, her presence is heaven. No cour- 
 tier is so humble or submissive as he ; she is the 
 soveringn of his soul, his idol. At length the spell 
 works its desired effect ; lier head cannot support 
 the fragrance of the incense that burns at her feet ; 
 she pities her adorer, she marries him— her empire 
 ceases, the goddess sinks into a mortal, the queen 
 is treated as a slave : alas ! poor wife ! 
 
 The female, it is true, according to the Mosaic 
 tradition, was, during the first ages of tlie world, 
 considered the mere hand-maid of her lordly com- 
 panion*; but the ladies affirm that the bible was 
 written By a man, and insinuate, that had it been 
 written by a Moman, she might have given a dif- 
 ferent account ; and can one wonder that such 
 opinions were adopted by the patriarchs, and re- 
 ceived with approbation at the courts of King David 
 
 * Some people maintain (hat the woman was created 
 for the uie of the man ; but, says the author of " 3Iann and 
 Weib," the West-Iodian planter could witii equal roasoa 
 maintain that God biid created for his use the negro u^ 
 Africa. 
 
 B 5 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and of King Solomon, the latter of whom retained 
 in his feareni, for his own use and entertainment, 
 seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines? 
 
 Probably there have existed, and still exist many 
 Momen, who have magnanimously resolved to re- 
 strain every natural feeling, in order to escape an 
 oppressive yoke. Of such a lofty spirit was queeu 
 Elizabeth. Warned by the fate of her sister, who 
 had experienced in her consort, instead of a rational 
 companion, an overbearing and imperious master, 
 she nobly rejected every address flattering to her 
 vanity, and stified the ambition of transmitting to 
 her ovm descendants the throne of her ancestors. 
 
 Marriage seems ordained exclusively fo^ the com- 
 fort of the man, that of the woman being disre- 
 garded. She must follow all his counsels without 
 having any veto on his determinations : she must 
 change her abode to suit his convenience ; must 
 break all the friendships of her youth, to flatter his 
 caprice; and bear his absence, whenever he be 
 pleased to quit her. If a man has sworn eternal 
 iidelity to a woman, with what justice can he enter 
 the array or navy without her permission ? Or is he 
 justified in undertaking a long voyage, and leaving 
 her perhaps in the bloom of youth, to shiver in a 
 bed of widowhood ? Must she act the part of Pene- 
 lope, while her Ulysses is squandering his treasures on 
 an oriental dancing girl, or receiving the Circean cup 
 froHi the hands of a mulatto toast ? A husband would 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 be surprised, on liis return from his morning ualk, 
 to fnul that his other half had posted away to a ball 
 at Bath, though he himself "would not scruple to 
 quit her to attend a meeting at Neu-Market. 
 
 It may be said, that no political body, no literary 
 society, no convivial meeting can be properly con- 
 ducted ^vithout a president, and that marriage could 
 not exist unless one of the parties were invested with 
 superior authority : but iirst let it be proved if it bo 
 necessary or just that it should exist at all. Its 
 abolition would be the abolition of th<^ servitude 
 of the one, nay, would increase the liberty and 
 happiness of both sexes, and, far fror.i beiitg detri- 
 mental to population, v* ouid promote it. 
 
 During the existence of that passion which caused 
 the marriage of two lovers, children may be ex- 
 pected ; but should indifference or disgust succeed 
 to the raptures of ]>ossession, all compulsive tie* 
 would not only be a source of vexation to the disap- 
 pointed pair, but would deprive society of two- 
 members, who are debarred from forming any ^icw 
 connection, which might promise better success. 
 This is corroborated by the observation, that, if the 
 first years of cohabitation produce nochildren^little 
 is the probability of any. Many causes may demand 
 a separation which humanity must delight to grant 
 and policy cannot refuse. 
 
 The only capital in Europe, where the popiilatiorv 
 annually increases, i^ Berlin, where marriage is 
 
Xn INTRODUCTION. 
 
 esteemed a mere simple conti^act^ to be annulled or 
 renewed at the pleasure of the contractors. A mar- 
 riage there is a partnership, a divorce a partnership 
 dissolved. Love having caused a union, should the 
 cause cease, none of the eifects C-an be expected ; 
 and the intention of the ceremony being frustrated, 
 equally as it would have been by the death of either 
 of the parties, both are considered as -widowed, 
 and at liberty to enter new engagements. 
 
 In Germany a divorce may be easily obtained, not 
 only when the extravagance, ill temper, love of gam- 
 bling, or any irregularity in either party may induce 
 the other to demand one, but, without any miscon- 
 duct on either side, a mere dislike is a sufficient 
 piea. Even in cases of adultery it is thought more 
 decent to allege some milder pretext for a divorce. 
 The generous husband resolves on quitting, without 
 disgracing the woman, who once possessed his 
 affections. 
 
 How inferior is the boasted liberty of the Briton, 
 when compared to this inestimable right enjoyed by 
 a nation whom he affects to consider as slaTes. 
 Would a wise Prussian, though represented in no 
 parliament, and without the right of jury, change 
 his situation with an Englishman, and barter the 
 power of choosing and changing the partner of his 
 fortune, for an impunity, when uttering an indecent 
 satire or caricature, or for the luxury of burning 
 the effigy of an unpopular minister ? 
 
INTRO0UCTION. xiiL 
 
 Many have objected to the facility of divorces lest 
 they should occur too frequently. A sudden c;ust 
 of passion might separate a couple ; but would not 
 the same interval for reflfction be sufficient for a 
 divorce as for a marriage? At present, should an 
 individual be inclined to contract ife most impru- 
 dent, nay, the roost degrading match, and of which 
 all his family foresee the fatal consequences; yet 
 the legislature Avould not be justified in prohi- 
 biting the bans ; why then should it interfere to 
 prohibit a divorce, not only in common cases, but 
 even when recommended by every honorable and 
 prudential motive? If divorce fte denied, lest di- 
 vorces should take place without sufficient cause, 
 marriage should be abolished, because absurd 
 matches take place. 
 
 The Mosaic law, delivered by God himself, the 
 laws of Justinian, of Mahomet, and of the Chinese, 
 all permit divorce. It was practised by the Chris- 
 tians of the ten first centuries, till a pope forbad it. 
 Both Luther and Calvin re-established it ; and at 
 present all mankind enjoy it except the Papists and 
 the English. As to the former, the indissolubility 
 of marriage has rendered cicisbeism so prevalent, 
 that they scarcely feel the yoke ; but it is remark- 
 able that the Anglican church, which originated in 
 the obstinacy of the pope in prohibiting the divorce 
 of its faith-defender, is the only protestant church 
 that still groans under this vestige of papal tyranny. 
 
XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The right of divorce is not, as some suppose, an 
 abortion of the French revolution, to adopt which a 
 man must be both a democrat and an infidel. Long 
 before it was abused by the Sansculottes in the tem- 
 ple of reason, it was practised in Germany by the 
 first families, without any confusion to their sixteen 
 or thirty-two quarters. Milton was no infidel, 
 Frederick the Great no democrat. The criminal 
 register of any country would demonstrate that 
 more murders have been caused by the indissolubi- 
 lity of marriage than by any other motive *. Henry 
 VIII m.ight murder his wives legally on the scaffold, 
 and Catherine assassinate her imperial consort in a 
 fortress ; but less elevated spouses have had recourse 
 to a dish of soup, or to a cup of chocolate, for the 
 recovery of their liberty. A few grains of arsenic 
 offer the divorce which the law denies ; and however 
 often such a crime may have been discovered, the 
 facility, with which it may be committed without 
 raising suspicion, authorises one to believe that it 
 often escapes the light. 
 
 But all these observations on divorce would be 
 digressions, were not the Nair system productive of 
 the same advantages ; but another argument, how 
 
 * Pendant I'annee 1769, la tournelle criminelle de Paris a 
 prononce sur vingt et un prorcs entre maris et ferames, pour 
 Climes de poison, d'assassinat, &c. 
 
 Legislation du Divorce, 116Q 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 favorable this system would be to population, is 
 this. 
 
 It would be more easy for every woman to find a 
 lover, and every man a mistress, than it would be 
 for eilher to acquire a partner for life. How many 
 poor females are, from the present order of things, 
 consigned to perpetual celibacy, and obliged to quit 
 tlie world, witiiout having augmented the number of 
 its inhabitants ? Many a beauty can count thirty 
 winters, before she may have the good fortune to 
 get a husband ; whereas had a free intercourse be- 
 tween the sexes been allowed, she might have been 
 already the mother of a dozen children. Were the 
 connection between the sexes left to the course of 
 nature, and unrestrained by human ordinances, a 
 woman must be an absolute monster of deformity 
 who could not persuade some unengaged persoti 
 into a temporary union. Are not females of easy 
 chastity, however destitute of every mental, and 
 sometimes of every personal recommendation, con- 
 tinually surrounded by crowds of the other sex, by 
 men of fashion, taste, and education ? and yet, how 
 numerous are the old maids, who have possessed 
 every charm and every accomplishment, who arc 
 distinguished by the sweetness of their tempers, and 
 by the goodness of their hearts. What is the cause 
 of this unnatural preference? One would be sur- 
 prised if a dancer should single out a partner from 
 the kitchen, when he might select one from the 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 drawjng-room ; but, probably, if a youth were 
 obliged to dance with the s.me lady djring the 
 whole course of bis life, dancing would cease to be 
 a fashionable amusement; Bath and Brighton would 
 be deserted ; the young squire would attend the 
 dairy-wench to the ncig]}bourlng wake, while his 
 sister at the asserobl} would be obliged to wait, 
 like Patience on amonument^ till her mamma should 
 have finished her rubber. 
 
 ''' What !" cries the moralist, with honest in- 
 dignation, " can any one wish to convert our 
 houses into stews, and our daughters into courte- 
 sans ?" Far from it : in a country where there 
 were no wives, there would be no courtesans ; 
 where every child were born legitimate, none 
 would be insultingly styled a bastard, but all 
 would be considered children of love. So long as 
 Hymen continues a monopolist^ Love will continue 
 a smuggler. 
 
 But here -an objection may arise ; should a per- 
 fect freedom be granted to women, would not 
 every man esteem it a grievance to be obliged to 
 maintain a child, of whom there is merely a pos- 
 sibility of his being the father ; but (as a Nair re- 
 commended to a Christian missionary) let the word 
 *' Father" be erased from the statute-books, and, 
 growing as obsolete as the terms " Husband" and 
 '^ Wife," only remain in the dictionary to explain 
 the customs, and remind us of the want of pene- 
 
INTRODUtTIOK. XVU 
 
 i ration in formor times. Lot every ehild l)e re- 
 signed to the care of the mother, and inherit her 
 possessions alone. 
 
 Let every female live perfectly uncontrolled by 
 nnv man, and enjoying every freedom, which tho 
 males only have hitherto enjoyed; let lier choose 
 and change her lover as she please, and of what- 
 ever rank he may be. At her decease, let her pos- 
 sessions be divided among her children. Let the 
 inheritance of her daughters descend in like manner 
 to their ohs.pring ; and the inheritance of her sons 
 fall, at their decease, to their sisters, and to their 
 sisters' children. 
 
 Every child might remain with the mother, who 
 might superintend its education. The daughters, 
 arrived at maturity, might follow their inclinations 
 with so little restraint as their brothers, who might 
 quarter themselves on the daughters of other families. 
 Love Avould not longer continue that trembling 
 spectre which shuns the light of heaven,' and fills the 
 midnight with infernal orgies ; no, it would re- 
 kindle that open and generous lire that w ould make 
 the world a paradise. 
 
 How favorable is this plan to the happiness of 
 mankind ! LUo the cup of love, Avhich should con- 
 tain a salutary balm, the ofiicious industry of men 
 has infused a venefic drug : round that rose, which 
 should have perfumed the hours of youth, a thorn 
 has madly been trusted, which too olteiij even 
 
XVIII INTRODUCTION, 
 
 after a length of years, has caused a fester and 
 bred a mortification. Let us preserve the plant ; 
 but let us free its growth from the surrounding 
 briars. Can any one doubt of the miseries pro- 
 ceeding from the restraints imposed on love ; let 
 him look into the circle of his own acquaintance ; 
 let him recollect how many children of his own 
 neighborhood have been disinherited; how many 
 brothers have fallen in duels ; how many parents 
 have died of a broken heart. He will find a Cla-* 
 rissa Harlowe in many a family. This is the most 
 interesting subject for a poet; this subject melts an 
 audience at the theatre into tears, and offers mate- 
 , rials for all the novels which load the shelves of the 
 circulating libraries. 
 
 If novels, painting the hardships which lovers, 
 from the present state of things, must endure, are 
 true portraits of life, what a great portion of 
 misery must proceed from the same source ? But, if 
 this natural system were established, love would en- 
 joy such uninterrupted felicity, that no novel could 
 be interesting.* Then none of those disproportionate 
 
 * Had Agalva reaialneJ at Calicut, she never could have 
 been the heroine of a novel. Her sufferings abroad could 
 alone have intitled her to that dear-bought honor. No hard-, 
 ship at home could have rendered her an object of curiosity. 
 The author was obliged to make her (ravel, to make her un- 
 happy and interesting. 
 
INTRODUCTION. XIX 
 
 connections could be concluded, which arc abso- 
 lutely contrary to the design of marriage. No 
 maiden Mould be torn from the embraces of a 
 beloved youth, to fall a sacrifice to filial obedience, 
 buried alive in the arms of some hoary sire. No 
 melting miser could resolve to treat himself to a 
 wife ; the love of ease would not tempt the lusty 
 youth to seek the jointure of the wealthy dowager ; 
 nor would the decrepid and peevish invalid be 
 able to hire, at the altar of Hymen, an attentive 
 nurse for his infirmities. No apprentice would mar- 
 ry his master's widow to succeed to his stock in 
 trade ; no candidate accept the daughter of his 
 neighbor to settle in his family the county interest, 
 and no ambassador demand a foreign princess to 
 seal a pacific or commercial treaty. 
 
 When one considers how a mis-alliance disunites 
 a whole house, one must approve a system which 
 must destroy the very possibility of that source of 
 family strife and dissention. The man of birth 
 must behold, w ith regret, a kinsman leading to the 
 altar a female of a plebeian origin ; and the rich 
 banker, in spite of the remonstrances of her con- 
 nections, will aspire with success to the withered 
 hand of a disappointed woman of quality. So long 
 as the sons of commerce can equal the gentry in 
 wealth, and the low-born girl the young lady 
 in charms ; so long as conspicuous talents and dis- 
 tii^uishing merit shall be found among the lowet 
 
XX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 classes, mls-aliiances wiii occur. The parent "wiil 
 enforce his authority to counteract the desires of his 
 child, and the child will look forward with im- 
 patience to the death of thelluthor of his being. 
 
 Etch under the most democratic government, 
 where the strictest equality might seem to prevail, 
 the rich citizen would oppose the marriage of his 
 daughter with a neighbor less favored by fortune. 
 But if this system were introduced, the heart, 
 neither swayed by avarice nor inliuenced by re- 
 spect to birth, would attach itself to the virtue, 
 beauty, talents, or any real or imaginary quality of 
 the beloved object; and a love attachment is more 
 favorable to population than a connection of con- 
 venience or ambition. No Pamela would then set a 
 family at variance, no Ignes de Castro threaten a 
 nation with a civil war. 
 
 Under a government where no hereditary honors, 
 no privileges or immunities of nobility, no heraldic 
 distinctions are respected, what prudent person, 
 seeing daily examples of husbands ruined through 
 the extravagance of their wives, and wives distressed 
 through the folly of their husbands, would embrace 
 a ceremony, which might be a source of perpetual 
 vexation^ and from which no single benefit could 
 proceed ? The inferior classes have been accustomed 
 to marry, because their superiors have done the 
 same; and people of rank have submitted to the 
 joke to transmit their dignities to posterity. But 
 
INTRODUCTION'. Xxi 
 
 if their parental affection, or tliis natural and uj»e- 
 ful vanity were not ilattcred by the advantages 
 which their children would ^njoy, why should they 
 marry at all ? In jhiuland, where the title is only 
 borne by the head of the family, he, who nsed to 
 exult ill the iincontined independence of celibacy, 
 frequently riibmits to the obligations cf marriage 
 the moment when, from the unexpected death of a 
 relative, he inherits the distinctions of his fa- 
 mily. With what consistency could the law of^ 
 France pretend that all its citizens should be born 
 equal, while it tolerated an institution, during the 
 existence of which one child would be born legiti- 
 mate and the other a bastard ? 
 
 Nor is this system incompatible with a monarchic 
 or aristocratic government. If a peer should have an 
 amour with a gentlewoman, her children would have 
 no claim to his peerage, but, bearing the uames and 
 arms of their mother, would belong to her class in so- 
 ciety. If a peer should have an inclination for a woman 
 of low extraction, thefruit of this connection would be 
 plebeian ; on the other hand, should a peeress of the 
 realm or a gentlewoman of quality cast her affections 
 on the basest-born individual, her children, without 
 any inquiry who or what was their father, would 
 inherit all the dignities, privileges, and pre-eminence 
 of their maternal house. 
 
 Should the dignity of the peerage, or any dis- 
 
XXU INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tiiiction be conferred on any person, they might be 
 entailed on his mother, descending in succession, 
 according to their seniority, to his brothers, and, 
 at their decease, to his nephew, the elder son of his 
 elder sister ; at the extinction of her posterity, to the 
 descendants of his second sister, and so forth. Thus a 
 mother, ha\ing had the care of his education, would 
 be justly rewarded in sharing the honors of her son. 
 The succession to the throne might be directed by 
 the same rules ; the deceased monarch might be suc- 
 ceeded by his next brother, or by the son of the 
 eldest princess. 
 
 Both prince and people would be gainers by this 
 plan. The prince would be able to follow his own 
 inclination in all love affairs. It would not be ne- 
 cessary to import from foreign countries princesses 
 educated in foreign principles, attended by foreign 
 courtiers, and perhaps pining after their natal soil ; 
 nor would the people, being entirely unconnected 
 through the allianceij of their rulers Avith the rulers 
 of other nations, be so often seduced into foreign 
 wars, or interrupted in any change of goYernment 
 by the interposition of foreign powers. 
 
 The chief superiority of the natural system con- 
 sists in this consideration : Partus seqiiiiur re/?- 
 ij^em. It is more just and reasonable that a child 
 should bear the name of his mother than that of 
 his father, as the relation between a child and his 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXllI 
 
 mother is indisputable ; but no one can })roTe liim- 
 sdf the son of his reputed father.* 
 
 >Vithindirtercncethen must one hear the man of fa- 
 mily claim Charlemagne as the source of his liouse ; 
 but could any one prore a descent, continued from 
 female to female, from the sister of thai remarkable 
 hero, in that case oidy one would be obliged to 
 acknowledge him related to the magnificent founder 
 of the Western Empire. 
 
 Probably no class of societ)- has produced so 
 many chaste wives as the nobility. Women of rank 
 are less exposed to the temptation of want ; their 
 dread of shame, their point of honor is greater. 
 But while justice pays them this respectful tribute, 
 truth laments the Impossibility of proving that the 
 consorts of heroes have been so exempt from re- 
 proach, as their lords were free from fear. The 
 achievements of King Arthur were not more cele- 
 brated in romance than the gallantries of his queen. 
 Many a Caesar might with less injustice have repu- 
 diated his wife. In a genealogical chain, no link 
 must fail. One may indeed presume, that the wife 
 of quality has had sentiments equally elevated with 
 
 * AmoBg so«iie of ilie nation? of Norlh AinPiica, the 
 child belongs to the inoihe«, as Ibey allege it ma-t be uncer- 
 tain who is the fatlier. — Carvc:r"s Travels- 
 
 Shall tlie i)f>Hshed Europran be exceeded in peoetrntivo 
 by ihe uncultivated tavajje ? 
 
XXIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 those of her husband; that she has remained as 
 faithfrl to her marriage vow as he to his oath of chi- 
 valry. Honor is the religion of nobility ; pridd 
 is often a virtue ; the female soul is capable of the 
 most generous enthusiasm, and many a gentlewoman 
 has sacrificed the feelings of her heart at the shrine 
 of honor. But still the herald must regret that the 
 gentleman of ancestry may be the son of a plebeian ; 
 and that his unknown father might have borne on 
 his button or his sleeve that escutcheon which flames 
 upon his chariot or graces his sideboard. 
 
 But, allowing that admiration is generally due to 
 the fidelity of the ladies, it is certain that this fidelity 
 has cost them many a heart-felt pain. The path of 
 duty has been strewed with thorns; their patience 
 may have been exemplary, but their penance has 
 been unjust. Shame on their persecutors, who have 
 forced them to deserve this crown of martyrdom. 
 Let the men make them, every reparation ; let a 
 system be adopted which w ould render the tyranny 
 of the males and the sacrifices of the females equally 
 unnecessary. 
 
 Can any thing be so ridiculous as family pride in 
 a country where cicesbeism is general ? The haughty 
 Marchese, too wise to renounce his own liberty, 
 and too just to restrain the liberty of his wife, is 
 anxious that his name should continue ; he therefore 
 marries, and commits to some gentildonna the care 
 of procuring an heir to his titles. In many parts of 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXV 
 
 Europe this custom preyails to such a degree, that 
 no one can, with any probability, be esteemed the 
 son of him to whose possessions he succeeds. 
 
 In Britain, female chastity is more general than 
 in any other European country, but what are the 
 consequences of the preposterous estimation in which 
 it is held ? To this may be ascribed the number of 
 involuntary courtesans who infest the metropolis ; 
 some of whom, women of family and education, and 
 free from every crime, though unable to resist the 
 dictates of nature, have been banished from the pro- 
 tection and endearments of their home, and obliged 
 to seek a precarious livelihood by a loathsome pro- 
 fession. From the chastity which the married wo- 
 man and every creditable female is forced to main- 
 tain, the young Briton is driven into low intrigues 
 and vulgar connections. He avoids good company, 
 where he is not at his ease ; he feels a restraint at 
 table till the ladies have retired. Of the refined 
 gallantry of the continent he has no idea. From 
 scenes of drunken uproar the bachelor reels to (he 
 haunts of debauch, the husband to the marriage bed. 
 The courtesan zcill receive the one, the wife must 
 receive the other ; whereas, if either presented him- 
 self in a state of intoxication in the boudoir of a 
 woman of gallantry, he would never be admitted 
 again. What a contrast between the novels of 
 Fielding and of Crebillon. Were the ladies in 
 England less severe, the gentlf would be more 
 
 VOL.1. C 
 
XXVI rNTRODUCTION. 
 
 amiable. Wherever the women are prudes, th6 
 men will be drunkards. 
 
 But let not the husband in England be too confix 
 dent in the chastity of his wife ; adultery is disco- 
 Tered by chance ; and what is by chance discovered, 
 may by chance remain concealed. A female may be 
 able to elude the vigilance of an Argus, though im- 
 mured like Danae in a brazen tower, or confined 
 like an eastern sultana within the harem of a sera- 
 glio ; nor, though the damages of fifteen thousand 
 pounds be set on her charms, will an Qttterprising 
 lover be deterred from the pursuit. 
 
 Though the laws of Scotland cannot be accused of 
 partiality, yet the women there are still to be pitied ; 
 for, though the female is permitted also to accuse 
 her husband of infidelity, yet, as the women are 
 merely passive in courtship, it is improbable that 
 any one, who ever availed herself of this right, was 
 ever able to enter a second marriage. She therefore 
 finds it more politic to content herself with a share 
 in a husband, and prefers whatever caresses he may 
 please to cast on her, to the certainty of a perpetual 
 widowhood. On the contrary, the man who has 
 procured a divorce from one woman, can always 
 pay his addresses to an other. 
 
 How miserable is the poor man whose consort has 
 been unfaithful to his bed. If he is of an economi- 
 cal disposition, he is uncertain if he be the father of 
 feis heirs. Has he a^igmented the value of his estate, 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXVU 
 
 >vlio will reap the benefit of Ins improvements? 
 Has he committed the acorn to the ground, none of 
 his descendants may repose in the shade of the ma- 
 jestic oak. Has an hereditary distinction been 
 •onferred on his public exertions, the spurious off- 
 gpring of an adultress may succeed to the rewards 
 of his activity : this humiliating idea paralises all his 
 vigor; the affairs of state and his own family con- 
 cerns become equally indifferent to him. These doubts 
 haunt him till his end ; and on his death-bed, he 
 sees, in the attentions of him whom he is obliged to 
 acknowledge as his heir, only the hypocrisy of a 
 stranger, impatient to close his eyes, in order to 
 rummage his coffers. 
 
 If a wife should intrigue with a valet, the fruit of 
 such a connection would not be the children of her 
 husband ; but should a sister attach herself to such 
 a lover, her children, notwithstanding the baseness 
 of their father, would have every claim to the favor 
 and protection of their uncle. Were this system 
 introduced and the order of succession altered, every 
 one would be certain that his name and possessions 
 would be enjoyed by his relatives, should his family 
 exist for ever. He, who prefers a male to a female 
 line of succession, prefers a possibility to a certainty, 
 and rejects a proof to adopt a supposition. 
 
 It may not here be improper to discuss the differ- 
 ent occupations and duties of each sex. Though 
 both sexes are equal, their employments may b© 
 C 2 
 
XXVlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 different. Two brothers may follow two different 
 professions, yet neither be subservient to the other. 
 Man is designed for active, woman for domestic life. 
 Let the males be their own masters, and employ 
 themselves in public affairs ; let the females be their 
 own mistresses, and manage their own domestic 
 concerns. An army, composed of females, would 
 be hurtful to population ; because, should the Ama- 
 zons be led into the field during their pregnancy, 
 ©•ne bullet would destroy two lives ; and it would 
 be absurd should the affairs of state be inter- 
 rupted while her excellency the prime ministress 
 was in the straw. 
 
 Though the female be not designed for the camp, 
 the senate, or the bar, let h-er receive such an educa- 
 tion as will enable her to superintend the first 
 instruction of the future lawyer, general, and poli- 
 tician ; for the same uncertainty which destroys the 
 whole claim of the child to the possessions of the . 
 father, absolves the father from all obligations of 
 e^ilucating and maintaining the child : the care and 
 management of the child must therefore entirely and 
 exclusively devolve on the mother. For which rea. 
 son she pught to have such precepts instilled into 
 her mind, as would enable her to conduct herself 
 with resolution and propriety in every case of diffi- 
 culty. She should be independent and self-agent in 
 every circumstance of her life. What a glorious 
 revojution womld this system effect in the manners 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXIX 
 
 of Momon ! N«t longer llioso insignificant crea- 
 tures, Avliose time is consumed in the most trilling 
 occupations, and whose attention is directed to the 
 most superficial accomplishments, tire daughters of 
 liberty Arould be the mothers of heroes. 
 
 There are many things which a woman need not study, 
 but there is nothing that slie should bo hindered from 
 knowing. There are sights to winch she need not 
 be conducted, but should the objects occur she need 
 not turn her head aside. Her present weakness and 
 want of firmness proceed principally from the 
 restraint to which she is subject in order to preserve 
 a character of chastity. For this the young lady is 
 guarded in a convent or in a boarding-school with 
 so much vigilance as a sultana in a harem. For this 
 she is subjected to a governess ; and, when allowed 
 to take the air, her walks are little conducive to 
 health or pleasure : she is arrayed with her compa- 
 nions ; she dares not stop to observe the surrounding 
 objects : she marches and halts at word of command 
 — " Elle n^a pas sa libcrte memo dans les instans 
 di' libcrtc.''' (Diderot; Fih Ncdurel.) At length 
 she enters the world very accomplished and very 
 ignorant ; but the purpose of her education is ful- 
 filled, for she has lc::irned no harm. Freedom still 
 Hies before her like a phantom : even now she is 
 less free than a boy in his tenth year. To make a 
 purchase, or to visit an acquaintance, siie dares no; 
 stir ^vithout a lacky : and how often is she disap* 
 
XXX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 m^ 
 
 pointed ©f some party of pleasure from the want of 
 a chaperon. But this confinement would cease, and 
 v/omen, being better educated, would show them- 
 selves worthy of their rights. Would the boy edu- 
 cated at a public school possess such manliness and 
 self-conduct in any difficulty, if never trusted out of 
 the sight of his tutor ? 
 
 If chastity be a virtue, why is it not required of 
 the males ? The males affect to style the other sex 
 the weak sex ; but with what reason can it be sup- 
 posed that the Almighty would subject to severer 
 restrictions those who, from their weakness, must 
 be less able to resist temptation ? 
 
 Bat veniam corvis^ vexat censura coluniltts. 
 
 Some might fear that women would abuse this 
 liberty, and that population w^ould suffer from the 
 ■umber of their lovers. A nation, which has just 
 burst the shackles of slavery, may at first be disor- 
 derly and tumultuous; but, after a little while, 
 freedom will assume a milder aspect, will submit 
 to the dictates of prudence, and listen to the voice 
 of humanity. He, who is born free, will be a 
 peaceable citizen, but a manumitted slave will be 
 licentious. That females should abuse a newly ac- 
 quired freedom is possible, but by no means certain^ 
 or even probable : let women be free from all unjust 
 restraint, and they would tread the path which na- 
 ture designed for them. " I am inclined," says a 
 
INTIIODUCTION. XXXJ 
 
 ftt rniaii author (Leber die Khc), " t<> think thai 
 uliutcvcr is natural cannot be pnrnicious; 1 permit 
 t\L'rN thing to grow as Dame Naturo pleases, and 
 iie>er let a pruning-kiiife touch my trees." 
 
 L\en allowing tluit every \>oman wore at heart a 
 rake, if every wonian might have a lover, she must 
 bo cmiueutly eudovved either by nature or fortune, 
 who could find more than one lover. Were an 
 ngrariau law introduced, every one would have a 
 sulUciency, and no one more. The polygamy of 
 an Asiatic despot will reduce all his indigent neigh- 
 bors to celibacy, and the number of virgins in 
 Europe enable the courtesans to be polyaudrists, 
 
 *' If every ico»)ar>, that now pines with want, 
 
 ** Had but a moderate and becoming bhare 
 
 ** Of that which lewdly pampered luxury 
 
 *• Now heaps upon some few with va?t excess, 
 
 " Mnturr"-. full blessings would be well di«pcns'd, 
 
 " lu un>upciUuou? even proportion, 
 
 '• And ihc no bit eiicumbi-ri'd with her store. " 
 
 Milton. 
 
 It i> true that courtesans are rarely fruitful, and 
 a secret aiui»ur is seldom prolilic. Perhaps in the 
 first case the number of lovers may be the cause oC 
 >terility ; but may one not doubt, if child-birth 
 were aUays so disgraceful and inconvenient as in 
 both these cases, whether the married matrons 
 would so often be the mothers of such numerous 
 families. Liul if this svslem were introduced, in. 
 
XXXII INTRODUCTION. 
 
 fanticide would be an unknown crime. Th« female 
 of rank would have a more forcible cause for che- 
 rishing her progeny, because her children would 
 ijear the name and inherit the honors of her family ; 
 vrhereas at present they bear the name and inherit 
 the honors of her husband, at the extinction of 
 which she could not be so much mortified. She 
 would feel the same pride, in the number of her 
 offspring, Avhich animated the noble Roman lady ; 
 who, having viewed with the greatest indifferencs 
 the jewels and ornaments belonging to a femal« 
 acquaintance, was desired by her to show her what- 
 ever things of the greatest value she might possess. 
 " These," answered she, pointing to her children, 
 " are my most valuable treasures." As population 
 is the chief wealth of a nation, every poor mother 
 might receive from the public treasury a fixed sum, 
 according to the number of her children. 
 
 But even should the sterility of some women pro- 
 ceed from their excesses, it is impossible that the 
 number of such wretches* would equal the number 
 
 * Are there indeed women who know nothing of love 
 but sensual enjoyment, and indulge in this with so little 
 restraint as some men? Probably; but so small is their 
 number, that shey may be considered female monsteis ; and 
 if one adds to these the miserable creiitures who trafSc 
 with their charms, one would not only be unjust (because 
 seduction, love of ease, want, and other such causes, preci- 
 pitate the plurality of these Into the abyss), but one would 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXXllI 
 
 of our old maids. A courtesan may serve lier 
 (ountryby prcsentinu; to it a cifizen ; a nun never 
 ran. (Juccn Elizabeth died a virgin, Cleopatra be- 
 came a mother. A race of heroes is fabled to have 
 sprung from Venus ; it is a pity that no philosopher 
 has derived his lineage from Minerva. 
 
 But though neither sex should be condemned 
 to a monastic chastity, botli should observe a natural 
 chastity. The first may be compared to starvation, 
 the second to temperance: the first would anniliilate 
 mankind, the second would prodncc a numerous and 
 healthy population. Natural chastity i> a duty to one's 
 self and to one's coantr) ; it is moderate in natural 
 
 not produce an eqtial number. This can be proved with the 
 greatest certainty. The support of these crt-atures dopenils 
 on the males, who require nothinj; of them hut sensual enjoN- 
 ment ; but many men must conlrii>u(e to tlie support of one 
 single wotuiin. Hence i't ii clear, ihat however great tin* 
 number of i^uch women, the [utmbcr of i-ucii men mual be 
 twenty times so great." — Mann and Weilf, by Professor ^Ial'- 
 ^ ii.r.o.v at Brnnswic. 
 
 To these -remarks it may be just to add, that u ant and 
 avarice, that undcrnjine the chastity of women, promote 
 the same virtue in men. ^Vo^len are often \icious iviihoui 
 any fault ; and nien vinuuus without any merit. Many a 
 Phryne woald be so chaste as Penelope, would her necessi- 
 ties allou it ; many a stoic would keep a harem, would hi* 
 circumstances afford it. The syren, wlio calls to the pas- 
 senjrer, has only his purse iu view ; and often the prudeat 
 UlNsses turns a deaf car, only to save his money . 
 
 c 5 
 
XXXiy INTRODUCTION. 
 
 enjoyment, and abstains from every indulgence 
 that nature reproves. At present, both sexes are 
 afraid of giving life to an illegitimate offspring. T© 
 promote any virtue, destroy every temptation to the 
 contrary vice. Where then would true chastity be so 
 prevalent, as in a country where the birth of every 
 child would be to the father a matter of indifference, 
 and to the mother a source of emolument and honor ? 
 
 And why should the female be unfit to super- 
 intend his education? Were not the Gracchi in- 
 debted to their mother Cornelia for the pre-emi- 
 nence which they enjoyed among their fellows- 
 citizens? Even in the nursery, when the disposi- 
 tions of the two sexes begin to unfold themselves, 
 while the boy is delighted with a rocking-horse, and 
 animarted at the sound of a drum, his sister feels a 
 maternal affection for her doll, and superintends the 
 domestic economy of her baby-house. 
 
 The female of rank, conscious of Ihe illustrious 
 heroes of her race, would cease to tremble at the 
 approach of war, nor endeavor to snatch her son 
 from the impending danger. She would point out 
 to him the names of his uncle«, whom the finger of 
 iiistory had recorded, and, glowing with the enthu- 
 siasm of a useful family pride, would bid him imi- 
 tate their virtues. Like the ladies in the age of 
 chivaky, from whose fair hands the triumphant 
 champion received the laurel of victory, she would 
 become the chief excitement to merit and heroic 
 
INTRODUCTION; XXXV 
 
 Talor. The mother would blush at the name of % 
 timid son, and no coward could aspire to the smiles 
 of a generous nymph ; and if a lover or son should 
 meet his fate in the field, the mother or beloved would 
 with Spartan resolution demand of his fellow-comba- 
 tants, " Was his death caused by an honest wound ?" 
 
 To the v/rong education of the females may 
 perhaps be ascribed much of the folly of the 
 males. The literate associate, the ignorant herd 
 together. A woman, whose whole attention is 
 directed to dress and vanity, must be disgusted at 
 any grave subject of conversation; and a young 
 man, at whose age the desire of pleasing the other 
 sex is naturally most ardent, must become frivolous 
 to gain her approbation. Hence his most precious 
 years are dedicated to trifling pursuits ; whereas, 
 should the women receive a proper education, the 
 coxcomb would be passed over with neglect, and the 
 man of sense would receive that deference which he 
 deserves*. 
 
 While such might be the employments of the fe- 
 males, a wider field of exertion would lie open to 
 the talents and genius of the males. Lord Bacon 
 observes that great characters have generally been 
 
 * Several remarks on female education, that appeared in 
 the German and French edition?, are omitted here; the 
 same subject having been so ingeoioutly discussed io the Edin- 
 burgh Review for Jan, 1810. 
 
XXXVl INTRODUCTION. 
 
 bachelors. What a race of politicians, generals, and 
 philosophers, might be expected from a nation, where 
 every lofty soul were unimpeded, by the care of 
 providing for its offspring, from following any 
 grand object in contemplation. This consideration 
 has detained the soldier from the field, has deadened 
 the curiosity of the philosopher, and stopped the 
 voice of the patriot. How oft have the lucubra- 
 tions of a philosopher been interrupted by the 
 scolding of a Xantippe* ! How many Hampdens 
 
 * Eleisa, in her letters, exerted all her eloquence to dis- 
 suade Abeillard from matrimony. " What credit should I 
 acquire (wrote she) in becoming your wife, since it would 
 be an obstacle to your reputation? What maledicJiona 
 should I not merit for depriving the world rff such a lumi- 
 nary ? What an injury should I not do to tlie church ? What 
 regrets should I not cause to the philosophers ? What a dis- 
 grace, what a loss it would be, if you, whom nature created 
 for the public good, should sacrifice yourself to a woman? 
 Remember the words of Saint Paul, " Art Uiou free from 
 the yoke of matrimony, take no wife." But if the advice 
 of this great apostle and the exhortations of the fatheis of the 
 church inspire you with no aversion to stich a burthen, consi- 
 der what the philosophers have said. Theophrastus has proved 
 by so many reasons that a sage should never marry. Cicero, 
 having repudiated Terentia, answered to Hircius, who pro- 
 posed to him his sister in marriage, that he could not divide 
 himself between the study of philosophy and the attentions 
 due to a wife. Beside, what a confusion between servant- 
 girls and scholars, books and distafl's, pens and spinning- 
 •wheels ! • How, in the midst of theelogiral and philosypht-^ 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXX VI 1 
 
 >voiild have opposed the injustice of a tyrant — how 
 many a Sidney would have braved the scatrdd, but 
 lor the fear of entailing on their helpless children 
 the rancor of an offended court ! If unimpeded 
 by marriage, the lover of botany would search every 
 distant forest, the mineralogist would inspect every 
 foreign mine, and the naturalist would quit his 
 country to examine a new volcano. How many 
 circumnavigators would aspire to rival the name of 
 the immortal Cooke ! How many travellers, ardent 
 for glory like Bruce, would penetrate the bosom of 
 unknown and uncultivated realms ! What improve- 
 ments would every art, every science receive ! with 
 what depth of thought would every speculative sub- 
 ject be examined ! with what firmness would every 
 government be directed ! with what desperation 
 would every battle be fought ! — a nation of bache- 
 lors would be the sovereign of the w^jrld. 
 
 In 1792, when the arms of Austria and Prussia 
 were combined against France, every unmarried 
 Frenchman flew to the standard of the new republic, 
 and whole villages were left destitute of every male 
 
 cal meditations, would you support the cries of a child, the 
 rocking of a cradle, or the songs of a nursery-ma.id ? Reflect 
 on the conduct of the sages of antiquity, botli Jews and 
 Gentiles ; and if both pagans and laymen have preferred 
 celibacy to marriage, remember that you have to support 
 llie character of a canon and the dignity of a philosopher?" 
 
 Diciionaire de Bayle* 
 
XXXVlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 inhabitant, except those whom infirmity or the cares' 
 of a family hindered from lendij^g their assistance to 
 their country. In order that they might direct their 
 entire attention to the interests of the church, th« 
 policy of the Vatican forbade the Roman Catholic 
 priests to marry. Even as a menial servant one 
 prefers an unmarried person. 
 
 If any are peculiarly happyj it is they who are 
 fortunate in love. The earth is an Elysium to that 
 pair who are mutually blessed in the arms of each 
 other : but why should marriage bind them to a 
 spot, the charms of which, like the garden of Eden, 
 may vanish, and leave them the glebe-adscript culti- 
 vators of a desert? Love without marriage is so 
 happy as love with marriage, but marriage without 
 love is a state of indifference or vexation. The 
 new-married lover may be compared to a hungry 
 courser tethered in a rich pasture. At first how 
 content are they both with the luxury of their situa- 
 tion. But one might with equal reason suppose 
 that the animaPs enjoyment proceeds from the rope 
 which binds him to the spot, as that the lover's feli- 
 city proceeds from the marriage-yoke. Should the 
 animal's appetite become appeased, or the lover's 
 affection cool, both would feel the hardship of their 
 confinement. 
 
 Could the lawgiver have devised a more effectual 
 way of rendering constancy odious than by consti- 
 tuting it a duty ? Constancy is a demonstration of 
 
INTRODUCTIOy. XXXIX 
 
 content ; an inconstant temper is a discontented 
 temper, deserving pity, not blame. But, though 
 constancy is itself no merit, it is probable that a 
 constant couple arc not destitute of merit. If an 
 individual has ac([uired an object that suits him, he 
 remains attached to it ; if not, he abandons it. No 
 one would oblige a tenant to inhabit the same house ; 
 but when he continues in it a length of time, one 
 may congratulate him on having found a dwelling 
 to his taste, and presume that the house itself must 
 possess some recommendation. But for the inter- 
 ference of the lawgiver, no coxcomb would have 
 prided himself on inconstancy : so long as constancy 
 is considered a duty, infidelity will be fashionable. 
 
 Though an inclination to a kept mistress is seldom 
 lasting, it would be unjust to conclude that every 
 Toluntary union would be short-lived. The con- 
 nection between a rake and a courtesan is only 
 founded on his blind passion and her sordid interest. 
 If disgust succeed not to his raptures, she will quit 
 him so soon as his fortune is unable to satisfy her 
 avarice or to support her extravagance. But though 
 a gross impulse should not attach the debaucKce to 
 the illiterate, unaccomplished and depraved courte- 
 san, constancy would unite lovers of a more amiable 
 character. A Moman may possess virtues and qua- 
 lities which no marriage ring, no nuptial benediction 
 can communicate. Could a man of feeling cease to 
 
xl INTRODUCTION. 
 
 love her ? If a spontaneous constancy sliould not 
 animate such a couple, would not a forced constancy 
 be unnatural, and, if unuatural, detrimental and 
 impolitic ? The Spanish lady is permitted to choose 
 and change her cicesbeo ; yet this extraordinary 
 connection, which being voluntary must exceed mar^ 
 riage in happiness, equals it in constancy ; and the 
 enamoured pair are usually torn asunder by death 
 alone. Beside, if both parties were allowed to 
 separate at pleasure, both would be reciprocally 
 more attentive and obliging in their behavior ; 
 whereas, at present, if a man and woman in com- 
 pany are particularly rude and indiiferent to each 
 other, one may conclude that they are man and 
 wife. 
 
 Is not human life sufficiently beset with misfor- 
 tunes ? Are not the fondest hopes of mortals sub- 
 ject to disappointments ? their existence embittered 
 by the loss of whatever is dear to them, and their 
 health the sport of a multiplicity of diseases ? But 
 must the lawgiver contribute to their misery ? He 
 should not measure out every indulgence with the 
 severity of an Egyptian task-master,- but should 
 alloAV every gratification which is not attended by 
 pernicious consequences *. Should his sagacity 
 
 * The North-American Indians laugh at the Europeans 
 for having only one wife, and that for life ; as they conceive 
 
INTRODUCTION. xli 
 
 favor an institution Mhich cramps the genius and 
 , \Ugor of the male, or his justice tolerate a ceremony 
 which debases the female into a slave ? 
 
 When bondage was abolished, the land-holders 
 conceived themselves ruined ; but their estates were 
 cultivated by freemen, and they found themselves 
 richer than before. In like manner men would 
 profit by the liberty of women ; for what man of 
 generous sentiments would not prefer the affection of 
 the spirited and accomplished Eloisa to the passive 
 obedience which Sarah payed to her lord and master 
 Abraham ? 
 
 Mrs. Wolstonecraft proposes the foundation of 
 public schools where both sexes might be educated 
 together *. During the existence of marriage, and 
 
 the Good Spirit formed them to be happy, and not (o con- 
 tinue together unless their tempers and dispositions be conge- 
 nial.— Fbj/ag'es and Travels of an Indian Interpreter, hy 
 J. Long.— 1191, 
 
 * In the course of this romance will be proved the possi- 
 bility of educating the two sexes at the same school, %vithout 
 danger from any indulgence previous to the age determined 
 by the law. 
 
 This continence among school-fellows must not be judged 
 impracticable, when it is practised by bed-fellows ; and not 
 only in America, but in the heart of the British empire. 
 The peasant in ^Yales is in the habit of going to bed to his 
 sweetheart, to say soft things and talk to her of love; and 
 she rises so unpolluted from the side of a vigorous swain as 
 if she had been reposing in the arms of a primitive bishop. 
 
xlii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the present ideas on chastity, this project would be 
 impossible ; but under the Nair system nothing 
 could be so advantageous. A union of tvvo stran- 
 geis would not have the same prospects of stability 
 
 ■who wished, by mortifyiug the flesh, lb gaio-a tictory over 
 the devil. Itjs at least so profcable, that the Welch bride, 
 Tifter having had frequent parleys in the bed of courtship, 
 will enter the bed of marriage a virgin, as the young lady 
 educated in the convent, or the prude who, in crossing a 
 stile, fears to show her legs to a roan. " The servant-maid 
 of the family that 1 visited in Caernarvonshire," says Pratt 
 in his Gleanings, " was the object of a young peasant, who 
 walked eleven long miles every Sunday morning, and regu- 
 larly returned the same night tbr«ugh all weathers, to be 
 ready for Monday's employment in the fields, being sirapiy 
 a day-labourer. He usually arrived in time for morning 
 prayers, which he constantly attended; after which, he 
 escorted his Dulcinea home to the house of her master, by 
 whose permission they as constantly passed the succeeding 
 hour in bed, according to the custom of the country. ' These 
 tender sabbatical preliminaries continued near two years, 
 ■when the treaty of alliance was solemnized. 
 
 *' My friend informed me, that, during thirty-six years resi- 
 dence in Wales, he had seen so few abuses of this mode of 
 courtship, that be conceived it as innocent as any other. 
 One proof of its being thought so by the parties, is the per- 
 fect ease and freedom with which it is done. No aukward- 
 ness or confusion appears on either side ; the most well-be- 
 haved and decent yoang women give into ii without a bluih ; 
 and the Welch w«men are by no means deficient in modesty. 
 Thus the force of habit xj stronger than the force «f 
 passion." 
 
INTRODUCTION. xliii 
 
 as one between a couple who have had every oppor- 
 tunity of knowing each other. Would not friends 
 ship, habit, and the pleasing recollection of every 
 event which occurred in the da} s of childhood and 
 innocence, unite them without chains, and promise 
 a perpetual constancy ? What are go lasting as the 
 friendships commenced at school or college ? 
 
 Such are the advantages of the Nair system. O 
 3^e, who boast of your benevolent feelings, whose 
 humanity urges you to unshackle the captive Afri- 
 cany or to unfurl on Sierra-Leona the white banner 
 of liberty, why should ye fly so far from the polished 
 world in quest of objects of pity ? Rather rescue 
 your sisters and manumit your wives from an op- 
 pressive yoke, and promote a system which merits 
 the attention of the politician, because favorable to 
 population ; which claims the approbation of the 
 aristocrat, because it would ensure to the nobility a 
 birth incontestably genuine ; and demands the sup- 
 port of the philanthropist, because it would augment 
 the happiness and liberty of mankind. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Vol. ii. page 206, line 5, for'* resemblance" read " remem- 
 brance." 
 210, — 18, — " temples" read <' Tempes." 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Walter de Grey is presented by the Countess of 
 Raldabar at the court of the Samorin — The bard 
 sings the origin of the empire, founded by Semi- 
 ramis — Customs of the court of Calicut — The 
 Emperor communicates to De Grey the memoirs 
 of his sister Agalva, containing her amours with 
 Lacy, and her departure for England, in com. 
 pany with him and the Baron of Naldor. 
 
THE 
 
 EMPIRE OF THE NAIKS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 De Grey was impatient to reach the ca- 
 pital of the empire. The beauties of the 
 road could not induce him to slacken his 
 speed : his horse^ which had trotted up 
 one of the highest hills in Malabar, 
 stopped for breath. He turned^ and per- 
 ceived that he had outrode his servants : 
 lie dismounted, and sat down on a mile- 
 stone. He hoped to arrive at Calicut the 
 next day. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 BOOK I. 
 
 One of the finest prospects in the 
 world rtv/zvdeii him him for this delay. 
 The country of the Samorin surpasses all 
 Indoctcin in variety : on one side, the 
 cloud-capped itjountain and the gushing 
 torr.ent.}^^ on the other, respectable man- 
 -sioRs, the seats of ancient hospitality, or 
 cheerful cottages peeping out of some 
 picturesque solitude. The landscape 
 changes at every point of view : De Grey 
 knows not whither to direct his eyes : 
 now he imagines himself in Swisserland, 
 now in France; now some object recalls 
 England to his memory, and he sighs 
 from the bottom of his heart ; again he is 
 lost in admiration. The sun is about to 
 sink into the Indian ocean. 
 
 '^ Ah ! that Emma, my dear sister, 
 were here to enjoy this scene ; she,, who 
 was so touched by the charms of nature. 
 Poor girl ! unhappy victim ! whom my 
 pride sacrificed to the blindest supersti- 
 tion." He said, and lost himself in a re- 
 
IJOOK I. 5 
 
 verie ; for the most trifling circumstances 
 not only renew tlic wounds of love^ but 
 wake the serpents of remorse. 
 
 A villaiie clock struck — he started, and 
 looked in vain for his suite : at last^ he 
 heard the tram})ling of horses, and a lady 
 of an elegant appearance advanced towards 
 him. She bestrode a gallant steed, 
 which she managed with grace : she was 
 accompanied by a youth of fifteen, and by 
 a damsel, who might be a year younger. 
 Three grooms, in rich liveries, followed. 
 
 De Grey saluted her, and inquired 
 whether perchance she had passed his 
 servants ; she answered in the negative. 
 On crossing the Indus, he had torn oft' 
 the Persian habit, with the indignation 
 of a slave who bursts his fetters, and he 
 had assumed the Nair dress ; but she 
 discovered, from his Accent, that he was a 
 foreigner. He informed lier that he was 
 travelling to Calicut : she asked him whe- 
 ther he had any letters of recommendation. 
 ' None," said he, '* I am unknown to 
 
n BOOK I. 
 
 every mother's son." (This expression he 
 had learnt in Indostan, but its propriety 
 struck him so forcibly, that he used it on 
 every occasion.) *^ I have only a pass- 
 port." 
 
 " You have a passport ?" asked the 
 lady, w^ith a look that marked a curio- 
 sity which she was too well bred to ex- 
 press with words. 
 
 De Grey produced the passport, which 
 was addressed by the governor of the fron- 
 tier town on the Indus to all the princes 
 of the empire ; to the grand master and 
 knights of the phoenix, the terror of the 
 Mahometans, and sworn protectors of 
 female liberty ; to all the Nairs, the ne- 
 phews of heroes ; and to every mother's 
 son in the said empire ; and recommended 
 to their good-will and protection the 
 noble Walter de Grey, who was journey- 
 ing to Calicut, and promised, in return, 
 the same treatment to any of their mo- 
 thers' sons, who might pass through his. 
 district. 
 
DOOK I. 7 
 
 '* Excuse my freedom/* said the lady, 
 which arose not from any impertinent 
 curiosity, but from a desire to render to 
 a man of quality all the attentions due 
 to him in a foreign country. " Your ser- 
 vants have, w^ithout doubt, left the high 
 road ; some peasant has shown them a 
 nearer way ; and the next town is still 
 some miles distant. I am the Countess 
 of Raldabar, lady of the chamber to the 
 Samorina, the mother of the Emperor. 
 His Majesty is at present at Vh-napor, to 
 pass the hunting season, and I am of the 
 party. If you will favor us with your 
 company to-night at the castle, the hos- 
 pitality of our sovereign, and the zeal, 
 which every one will show to do justice 
 to your merit, will, I hope, induce you 
 to prolong your stay." 
 
 After some apologies, De Grey accepted 
 the invitation ; it offered him so good an 
 opportunity of seeing the customs of the 
 country. 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 " Permit me/' said she, '' to intro- 
 duce my children to you — Zaros my 
 eldest son, and my eldest daughter, Cora." 
 " Rather say your youngest sister," said j' 
 De Grey ; but the Countess of Ralda- 
 bar understood not the compliment, for 
 mother is the most respectable title that 
 a woman can bear in Indostan. 
 
 The son made him a polite bow ; but 
 Cora interested him the most. She was 
 still a child, her features not yet formed ; 
 but she had a pair of eyes, which, in a 
 land where matrimony prevailed, might 
 cause a Trojan war, but which promised, 
 like the sun that delights all who behold 
 it, to render her in a short time the first 
 constellation of the court of Calicut. 
 
 '^ What a happy country !" said De ' 
 Grey, as they rode along : it is true, every 
 country would be tolerable in his eyes, 
 who has traversed that portion of the 
 globe which Mahometan despotism and 
 polygamy have depopulated. I would 
 
BOOK I. .9 
 
 rather be the lowest peasant in Malabar, 
 than the first mirza of the court of Ispa- 
 han." 
 
 " Yes," said the Countess, ^'^ all the 
 subjects of the Sainorin are happy. 
 When you arrive at Calicut, you will be 
 a witness of the comfort of our citizens, 
 whose courage and fidelity toward their 
 emperor have shone on every emer- 
 gency ; and whose industiy is indefati- 
 gable, because the certainty of enjoying 
 the fruits of their labor excites them to 
 the useful employment of their days. 
 But look around ; see the cottages, the 
 gardens, the orchards of the peasant ! 
 he works, he enjoys, he pays his rent 
 without delay, nor suffei's that it should 
 be demanded of him. Over such a coun- 
 try and such a peo^^le Ornor deserves to 
 reign. His subjects would have chosen 
 him for their own advantage, had not 
 Providence chosen for them. By the 
 pains which he bestows upon his amiable 
 nephew, he hopes to bequeath to his 
 
16 BOOK I. 
 
 country a faithful copy of his own vir- 
 tues. Valuable legacy ; the idea draws a 
 tear of regret from the same eye that is 
 animated with gratitude : for, alas ! there 
 remains no female to continue the impe- 
 rial race ; and, at the death of the heredi- 
 tary prince, who is now at the university, 
 there will be no heir to a sceptre which 
 has passed from uncle to nephew for so 
 many centuries." 
 
 But now they quitted the highway for 
 a private road, that traversed the imperial 
 park. A river, which was to be passed 
 by a ferry, poured its serpentine course 
 through this earthly paradise, the monu- 
 ment of the elegant taste of the fore-unc]es 
 of the Samorin. The company dismount- 
 ed ; and, while the servants were leading 
 the horses into the boat, and the boatmen 
 were preparing their oars, the young 
 Countess doffed her clothes, and plunged 
 into the stream. But see! the lovely girl 
 rises with the composure of a swan, and, 
 as she moves her arms^ the ambitious 
 
BOOK I. 11 
 
 waves seem swellino; to kiss her bosom. 
 She swims after the boat. Now she turns, 
 her arms he inactive at her side : she 
 floats motionless on the surface ; the cur- 
 rents bear her along. Now she moves 
 her leg, her steerage ; but her force seems 
 spent. She sinks ! — no, she dives ; a gen- 
 tle circle increases on the liquid glass ; 
 she reappears on the other side of the 
 boat : her ivory body shines through the 
 unruffled mirror. Now she dashes it 
 with her hand, and the element foams as 
 from the gambols of a dolphin. She 
 lands on the opposite shore ; a groom 
 brings her her clothes : she is already 
 dressed ; she mounts her horse, and joins 
 the side of her mother. 
 
 The astonishment of a Persian, who., 
 arriving in London, finds the English- 
 women without seven veils ; the astonish- 
 ment of an Englishman, who, arriving at 
 Rome, is received by a gentildonna still 
 in bed ; the astonishment of the Pacha at 
 the Baron de Tott's tranquillity, while the 
 
12 BOOK I, 
 
 Baroness was dancing a minuet with a 
 stranger ; or of the sentimental Yorick, 
 when the Marquise bade him stop the 
 carriage — jiour sathfaire a im petit besoln^ 
 could not have surpassed the astonish- 
 ment of De Grey at the young Countess's 
 behavior ; but, however singular her 
 conduct might appear to a European, 
 yet, as nothing could seem more natural 
 or usual to a lady of Calicut^, neither 
 the mother nor daughter observed his sur- 
 prise.. 
 
 But now the moon arises and discovers 
 the proud castle of Virnapor, whose bold 
 turrets, of Syrian architecture, now single, 
 now in a groupe of six or seven, appear 
 through an opening in the trees, and va- 
 nish again at every turn of the road ; and, 
 having passed through a' row of lamps, 
 whose lustre, to a stranger less travelled 
 than De Grey, might have seemed an 
 
 * The account of the baths in Malabar — SmeU 
 lie's Philosophy of Natural History. 
 
BOOli I. 13 
 
 illumination in his honor, the company 
 dismounted in the palace yard. 
 
 The Samorin, surrounded by the ladies 
 of the court, was discussing the events of 
 the late chace, when the Countess pre- 
 sented De Grey. The Prince received 
 him in the most gracious manner, or 
 rather welcomed him with the hospitality 
 of ancient times to his maternal hall. 
 
 The Countess then introduced him to 
 the whole circle. De Grey bowed to the 
 courtiers, and returned their compliments 
 with his usual ease ; but, though not less 
 desirous of the good will of the ladies, his 
 emotion was visible when he addressed 
 them. He was petrified at their beaut^v : 
 the simplicity of their dress was too fa* 
 vorable. Having returned from the 
 chace, they had slipped on a rural negli- 
 gee, a robe of muslin with a green girdle. 
 Their hair in natural ringlets floated on 
 their swelling bosoms. 
 
 Now the flourish of trumpets sounded 
 to supper, for nothing is so dear to the 
 
14 BOOK I, 
 
 Nairs as the customs of their fore-uncles 
 in the days of chivalry. De Grey was 
 placed opposite the.Samoria. During 
 his stay in Germany, he had visited the 
 courts of the first princes, whose elegant 
 magnificence and hereditary hospitality* 
 had filled him with sentiments of grati- 
 tude and respect ; but he had seen no 
 court banquet at once so sumptuous and 
 so lively as the present. Pages, in the 
 most superb liveries, and proud of their 
 gentility from four honorable mothers, 
 waited on the sovereign ; while heydukes 
 and running-footmen surrounded a table, 
 which bent under the most delicious 
 viands, and glittered with a profusion of 
 plate. But the chief merit of the ban- 
 quet was the ease and good humor that 
 reigned there, and the imperial presence 
 threw no restraint on the cheerful sallies 
 of wit. 
 
 Meanwhile the sparkling cup passed 
 round, and filling to the brim a golden 
 goblet, the Samorin addressed his guest^ 
 
BOOK I. 15 
 
 and drank to the health of his king's sis- 
 ter, and may her sons mount happily the 
 throne of their fore-uncles. 
 
 De Grey thanked him for the intended 
 compliment, but added, ^'^ that those 
 princes would, in all probability, never 
 succeed to their uncle's throne." 
 
 " Who then," asked the Samorin^ " is 
 the heir-apparent ?" 
 
 " The king's own children," answered 
 De Grey. 
 
 By chance, Furosto, Baron of Istapa- 
 tam, a country squire, who, having fol- 
 lowed the hounds^ had been invited to 
 supper, heard this, and thought that the 
 stranger was making game of his sove- 
 reign. He seized a bottle to fling it at 
 his head, but luckily he recollected that 
 he was in the imperial presence. '^ How 
 can kings bring forth children ?" cried he, 
 *^ perhaps cocks lay eggs in your country." 
 
 " How so ?" answered De Grey, " the 
 hens lay eggs in my country, as well as 
 elsewhere." 
 
iG BOOK I. 
 
 ^^ Certainly, and without doubt^ the 
 eldest princess produces the successor, 
 who ascends the throne at the death of 
 his uncle." 
 
 " By no means ; in Europe, every one 
 inherits from his father." 
 
 '^ Father !" exclaimed the Baron, with 
 wide-extended mouth. " Father!" re- 
 peated the whole company^ " are ye then 
 Mahometans ?" 
 
 " I intreat you," answered De Grey, 
 *^ detest us not, as ye detest the Maho- 
 metans ; for our treatment of the female 
 sex is less culpable than theirs: rather 
 pity us as the victims of our own preju- 
 'dices. Our religion^ or rather our juris- 
 prudence, cruel as the Mahometan, 
 though less partial in its barbarity, t3a'an- 
 nises equally over both sexes. It ventures 
 not to confine within the walls of a harem 
 the objects of its desires, but it restrains 
 the human species in the natural enjoy- 
 ment of that passion, in which every other 
 animal is free. The birds of the air and 
 
BOOK I. 17 
 
 the beasts of the field may choose and 
 change their mates : to man alone, the 
 lord of the creation^ is denied this hberty. 
 The man is enjoined to select a vvomanj 
 with whom he must live during the 
 whole course of his life ; and the woman, 
 having once entered the covenant, is not 
 allowed the intercourse of any other 
 man. Death only can dissolve the tie, — 
 and how often the one party wishes the 
 death of the other ! As they always live 
 together, it is presumed that her chil- 
 dren proceed from him. He is obliged 
 to provide for them : they bear his name, 
 inherit his titles, and succeed to his pos- 
 sessions." 
 
 Furosto, though not given to litera- 
 ture, was one of the greatest heralds in his 
 province ; he could not only repeat the 
 succession of his own mothers for centu- 
 ries back, but knew the pedigree of every 
 mother's son in the neighborhood. He 
 was desirous of acquiring an idea of the 
 European system of genealogy, but he 
 
18 BOOK I. 
 
 had not sufficient capacity to comprehend 
 it, till De Grey took out a pencil, and 
 sketched for him a pedigree on a scrap of 
 paper. 
 
 A lady, who had listened very atten- 
 tively, addressed the Briton : *' Permit 
 me to propose an objection to this system : 
 is not the relation between what ye call a 
 father and the child very doubtful, as it is 
 always in the power of the mother to de- 
 ceive her husband ? The reputed son of 
 a gentleman may in fact be the offspring 
 of a plebeian, and the European prince, 
 who mounts a paternal throne, may de- 
 rive his secret origin from a chamberlain 
 or page, if not from a hey duke, or run- 
 ning-footman." 
 
 The lover of heraldry exulted to such 
 a degree in this objection, that he could 
 not contain his triumph. He boastingly 
 mocked the birth of the other, and then 
 laughed at his own sallies. Fearing that 
 the stranger would resent his illiberality^ 
 the Samorin beckoned to the harper. 
 
BOOK I. 19 
 
 Silence ensued, and the minstrel sung 
 the praise of An an dor the son of Larida, 
 of that undaunted warrior who defied the 
 whole force of Persia, who entered the 
 harem of an unnatural polygamist, and res- 
 cued fifty of his concubines. They, being 
 established on his maternal estate, promised 
 to increase its population . Peace returned, 
 and the duties of war not longer requiring 
 their exertions, his warlike tenants flocked 
 to Raldabar. The fair Persians, with 
 gratitude and admiration, behold their 
 protectors : love united bravery and 
 beauty, and the posterity of these res- 
 cued sultanas bless the memory of Anan- 
 dor. Exulting in the laurels of his subject, 
 the then-reigning Samorin conferred 
 upon Anandor the rank of Count, and 
 intailed it upon the descendants of his 
 mother, Larida. 
 
 Such was the subject of the lofty song, 
 which the harper chose in honor of the 
 Countess of Raldabar, she being a des- 
 cendant of Larida ; but the Countess, ia 
 
20 BOOK I. 
 
 order to stop the compliments of the cdm- 
 pany on the antiquity of her family, de- 
 sired the harper to sing the exploits of 
 Samora, and the origin of the Indian em- 
 pire. The bard thus obeyed. 
 
 " Samora* approached the shrine ; how 
 magnificent was the altar of many gems ! 
 but its splendor faded at her approach, as 
 the stars fade away before the sun. The 
 high priest of Ammon hailed the founder 
 of Babylon : '^ Greatest of women/' said 
 he ; but a tear ran down his beard, .white 
 as the foam of the troubled ocean. 
 
 " Great was the glory of Ninus," said 
 the hoary seer, " his sceptre swayed Persia 
 and Egypt ; the Tygris watered, the foot- 
 steps of his throne, and the Nile rose to 
 see his majesty : he built a city, which 
 bears his imperial name. How magni- 
 ficent is Niniveh ! how great was the 
 glory of Ninus !" 
 
 * See the aceount of Semiranils hi Dtodbrus 
 Siculus, 
 
BOOK I. 21 
 
 And SaiTiora burned with indignation ; 
 she had laid him low, whose glory was so 
 great ; and shall the insolence of a priest 
 reproach her with his fall ? She frowns in 
 the pride of her former deeds : her nobles 
 burn with her rage ; their souls are kin- 
 dled at their battles of old ; they feel for 
 their insulted queen ; their hands invo- 
 luntary half unsheath their swords. 
 
 " And yet Ninus/' continued the priest, 
 ^' Ninus fell in the greatness of ^his glory : 
 and thou, O Princess, thou'gh greater 
 than Ninus, as Babylon is greater than 
 Niniveh ; though all Asia send its mil- 
 lions to form this monument of thy fame ; 
 though its walls divide the clouds; though 
 its hanging gardens are the wonder of the 
 world, and its artificial lake a mimic 
 ocean ; yet, as Ninus fell, so thou mayest 
 fall, O Samora." 
 
 " Samora has the love of her subjects/' 
 cried the nobles in her train. " Samora 
 is the terror of her foes. Asia and Africa 
 
32 BOOK r. 
 
 resound with her glory : she has no eqilal ; 
 the world has but one Samora." 
 
 ^^ And whom shall I fear r" cried the 
 Queen, '^ I have raised the humble valley, 
 and levelled the cloud-capped mountain : 
 mortals bow in my presence, numberless 
 as the leaves of the forest." 
 
 " Thou hast levelled mountains/' ans- 
 wered the interpreter of fate ; " canst thou 
 level the ambition of thy son ? Ninias 
 burns to ascend the throne of his father." 
 
 Thoughtful, melancholy, sad, the Queen 
 returned from the oracle of Jove. The 
 guilty conscience of the son trembled in 
 the presence of his mother; his color 
 changed, his voice faltered ; the first of 
 women accused him, his shame convicted 
 him. 
 
 " And what is thy title to the throne ?" 
 asked the first of women. 
 
 " It was the throne of my father," ans- 
 wered he, and lifted the red eye of pride. 
 " And who was thy father ?" cried the 
 
BOOK I. 23 
 
 Queen, in her wrath : " Ninus was the 
 consort of Samora, but who was the father 
 of Ninias ? My mother was the nymph 
 of the lake ; 1 never knew, nor could I 
 ever know, who was my father. I mar- 
 ried a centurion, an obscure officer : his 
 stupidity qualified him as a husband, but 
 I inspired him with my enthusiasm ; I 
 assisted him with my counsels ; I second- 
 ed him with my courage ; he rose to a 
 commander. The whole army wondered 
 at his success ; he triumphed in every 
 expedition ; the arms of Syria were irre- 
 sistible. When his presumption ventured 
 to neglect my counsels, I, who had been 
 the artist of his fortune, I resigned to 
 his evil genius ; I forsook him in his im- 
 potence ; every act was an error ; his 
 greatness tottered ; suicide only pre- 
 vented his disgrace. 
 
 " I gave my hand to Ninus, and 
 mounted the imperial throne. I had made 
 my first husband a hero ; I made my se- 
 cond a demigod : then Niniveh arose to 
 
24 BOOK I. 
 
 perpetuate his name. The world vva» 
 astonished ; no city equalled Nineveh ; 
 no king could be compared with Ninus. 
 But Ninus was inferior to his own glory ; 
 giddy at the height to which I had raised 
 him, he dishonored me with a command : 
 Samora was not born to obey ; that com- 
 mand was the sentence of his fate. I 
 stretched forth my hand, and the demi- 
 god lay in the dust. But the nations were 
 to acknowledge my worth; that Ninus, 
 like the moon, had shone with borrowed 
 light ; but that Samora was the real sun. 
 Babylon arose, and the inferior Niniveh 
 shrunk into nought. 
 
 ^^ And shalt thou, presumptuous boy, 
 shalt thou dispute the throne of Samora ? 
 Could a mother be severe to her own off- 
 spring, must thou not tremble at her 
 wrath r I open my lips, and thy glory 
 is not more, if aught can be inglorious 
 proceeding from Samora. And canst thou 
 value thyself on thy origin from Ninus, 
 thou the progeny of Samora ? Thou art 
 
BOOK I. 25 
 
 sileiit ; well then, let the world judge of 
 thy relation to Ninus. 
 
 " The arms of Syria were engaged in 
 Persia. A Parthian dart had wounded 
 Ninus, and confined him three moons to 
 his couch : I headed the legions ; he re- 
 turned in a litter to Niniveh. We routed 
 the enemy : three days lasted the pursuit. 
 It was a summer's evening, I lay in my 
 tent, and unbuckled my gorget to the 
 cooling breeze : a young captive was con- 
 ducted before me ; he was straight as a 
 poplar, his eye flashed with fire. He 
 looked defiance, but this look displeased 
 me not ; I beckoned to the guards, and 
 they retired. I solicited his love, but he 
 frowned indignant, and shook his chain ; 
 I cut his chain with my sword : his brow 
 brightened, and his gratitude, not his 
 obedience, complied. In nine months 
 I produced — ^Thee ; assemble the nations, 
 and proclaim thy right to the throne." 
 
 And Ninias stood abashed in the pre- 
 sence of his mother. 
 
 VOL. I. " C 
 
26 BOOK I. 
 
 " No/' said she, *'' I will not deprive 
 thee of thy inheritance : I resign Babylon 
 and Niniveh to thy follies ; thy name 
 shall be proverbial among kings. Let the 
 Syrians imagine me dead ; I will retire 
 my influence from these kingdoms ; let 
 those who love and respect Samora, follow 
 her across the Indus." 
 
 And her subjects crowded to her ban- 
 ner (it was the standard of the phoenix), 
 numberless as the stars of the heaven, as 
 the pebbles of the shore, or the waves of 
 the ocean ; and as they passed over Persia, 
 their thousands increased, as the swelling 
 rivers increase from the mountain torrent. 
 Yes, they came like the crowded waves 
 of the ocean, when the dark wind blows 
 from the deep, and rolls the foaming bil- 
 lows over the shore. 
 
 On the banks of the Indus Samora 
 assembled her followers, and bade them 
 to cast their marriage-rings into the 
 stream. " We enter a new land," said 
 she^ ^^ we will enter it without the badges 
 
BOOK I. 27 
 
 of sla\^ry : both sexes shall be free in the 
 empire of Samora. Let the husband who 
 objects to this, return to his harem, let 
 him be tyrant, and the dupe of his wife." 
 
 And so many were the rings, that 
 Indus flows over sands of gold. 
 
 A bridge of boats unites the two shores: 
 the first of women marches over in the 
 majesty of her soul. Indostan rises above 
 the blue waves, and nods its green groves 
 in the wind : numberless * canoes dart 
 over the liquid mirror, and the natives 
 beyond number clamber the sides of the 
 bridge. They are gay and lively as the 
 spring, their beauty is the masterpiece of 
 nature : they are naked, but purity is 
 clothed in nakedness : they are without 
 arms, but fearless are the strangers to 
 guilt. They bear a white flag and a green 
 bough in their hands, the tokens of 
 friendship and peace. 
 
 * See Marmontel's Iiicas, vol. ii. chap. 23. 
 C 2 
 
2S BOOK T. 
 
 The Princess was touched by their in- 
 nocence : she^ who was the thunder of 
 storm, became the mild dew of the even- 
 ing. Every warrior sheaths his sword, 
 and places a green bough on his helm. 
 
 Drunken with joy, the natives danced 
 before their guests, and led them to 
 their natal village. It lay at the foot of 
 a mountain ; a brook tumbled down a 
 rock, and bathed the earthly paradise : 
 the very elements favored this happy spot. 
 Here industry was a pastime, and simpli- 
 city a stranger to want. 
 
 And the evening assembled the Indians 
 under the shadow of a spreading palm ; 
 the queen was invited to the feast of joy. 
 Young girls, elegant as the graces and 
 naked as they, presented baskets of fruit. 
 The feast is spread on the grassy carpet ; 
 neither their nets nor their angles had 
 fceen idle; their dart had arrested the 
 dove in its flight, and their lance had 
 4runk the blood of the hart on the moun- 
 
BOOK I. 2<J 
 
 tain ; they quaffed the beverage of the bee, 
 nor disdained the pure water of the spring. 
 
 How new to the warriors was the sim- 
 phcity of nature, how^ affecting the chil- 
 dren of innocence! The strangers are in- 
 vited to the dance ; it is the dance of love. 
 The blooming j^outh of the village is as- 
 sembled ; each dances w^ith the beloved of 
 his heart : less gay were th^ festivals of 
 Babylon^ in honor of Venus. Here na- 
 ture reignedj and her daughters, fresh 
 from her hand, are artless and unadorned ; 
 the mother of love alone has endowed 
 them with every charm. How light and 
 airy are their motions ! they are animated 
 by* the breath of ^oy. What enchant- 
 ment in their smile ! v, hat significance in 
 their look ! they offer their hands to their 
 guests^ and challenge them to the dance. 
 The hearts of the Syrians swim in extacy; 
 'tis a tumult, a frenzy in their soul. 
 
 They recline on the soft grass, and 
 llieir partners bind them with garlands of 
 
30 BOOK. I. 
 
 flowers. Meanwhile the silver moon rides 
 through heaven, and night in triumph 
 opens her thousand eyes. 
 
 Love follows the sprightly dance, and 
 sleep succeeds to the pleasures of love. 
 
 Morning rose with its beams, and the 
 Syrians covered the plain : they stood 
 like a forest of fir, and the sun shone 
 on their polished arms. They exercised 
 in feats of war. The rapid car of Samora 
 rolled by like a meteor of death. The 
 Oueen review^ed the troops of her strength ; 
 as she camCj there was an acclamation of 
 joy, and the lightning of their swords 
 flashed on high. Silence ensued, till the 
 trumpet sounded the charge. A mock 
 battle began. They attack, they repel, 
 they liy, they pursue ; they strive like the 
 force of a thousand streams. Earth trem- 
 bles beneath their horses' hoofs; the moun^ 
 tains re-echo to their blows ; clouds of 
 dust arise, and the day is darkened by *.i 
 §;hower of arrows. 
 
BOOK X. ol 
 
 •The Indians retired to a liill^ and 
 trembled at the contention of heroes. 
 
 Great was Samora's might, nor less 
 the goodness of the Queen. Her fame 
 spread to the distant Ganges, and all In- 
 dostan came to do her homage ; its sons 
 fell prostrate before her, and prayed her 
 to be their queen. " Thou art mighty 
 in war, nor fearest the King * of the 
 East ; his ruffians come with fire and 
 sword. The tribute of a hundred virgins 
 he has imposed on us ; they are torn 
 fpom the arms of their mothers, to pine 
 in the prisons of his love ; in vain they 
 raise their red eyes, and beat their bosoms 
 of snow; they must go, or our country 
 floats in blood." 
 
 '' Bat they shall not go," said the 
 Queen, and shook the spear of her strength, 
 '' I will be your queen !" the pride of her 
 soul arose ; she assembled her companions 
 in war. 
 
 ^- Piohnblv tliQ Emperor of ChiMa. 
 
32 BOOK I. 
 
 '^ Heroes of Syria !" said the first of 
 wonien^ '' behold the promised Jand ; — I 
 led you hear to learn the policy of nature 5 
 let the polished Babylonian learn from the 
 uncultivated savage. What avails our 
 , glory abroad, if we are slaves at home? 
 What public liberty, if one half of man- 
 kind be the slaves of the other ? But the 
 children of nature are not the tyrants of 
 beauty. She neither chains nor v^ears 
 chains — she neither lessens the freedom 
 of others, nor risks her ow^n — she is an 
 attraction, but no tie; allowed to choose 
 and to change, to sue and to reject, she 
 meets a refusal without suffering an af- 
 front — she rejects without affronting; 
 she gives to many, and has enough for 
 all ; her favours are unconfined ; like 
 the sun, she may shine on all mankind. 
 The duration of an amour depends on the 
 temper of a pair ; caprice separates them 
 whom inclination united ; without blush- 
 ing, they cease to love, and, without com- 
 plaints, to please. Sure at every hour to 
 
BOOK I. 33 
 
 find a sympathising heart, the forsaken 
 lover broods not over liis loss, nor bears 
 rancor against him who was preferred. 
 Though all men were rivals, they would all 
 be friends. Nor look the other nymphs 
 with aversion on him, whom a sister 
 favors, or proposes to favor in his turn. 
 Hence maternity alone is certain and 
 fixed ; the name ' father' is unknown. 
 
 '• This was the nation I wished to show 
 you — the system I wished to teach you ; 
 having learned these principles, our 
 colony might have transplanted them to 
 some uninhabited land. True, we might 
 conquer the naked savage : Samora never 
 feared an armed host ; but Samora would 
 have feared to have been unjust. But 
 heaven favors us bevond our wishes ; the 
 Indians have offered me their crown. 
 
 '^ The Indians were lately so happy; 
 but the state of nature cannot last for 
 ever ! The ruffian of the East comes with 
 fire and sword — the tribute of a hundred 
 virgins has he imposed upon them ; they 
 c 5 
 
34 BOOK T. 
 
 are torn from the arms of their mothers^ 
 to pine ill the prisons of his love. They 
 must go, or their country floats in blood." 
 ^' But they shall not go,' said the 
 chiefs ; '^ we will defend the subjects of 
 otir queen." 
 
 '• And Samora became their empress. 
 She divided Indostan among her chiefs. 
 From the waters of Indus to the frontiers 
 of China, all submitted to her sceptre — 
 submitted wilHngly ; they loved her — 
 they adored her, as sent from heaven to 
 instruct them in the arts of peace, and pro- 
 tect them from the ravages of war. Cities 
 arose in every province, cities without 
 ramparts or walls. Her subjectsj were 
 happy^ and from them she had nothing 
 to fear. But, to defend the limits of the 
 empire, she founded the Order of the 
 Phoenix, the heroic champions of fe* 
 male liberty. She retained Malabar for 
 her own issue^ and built imperial Ca- 
 licut. 
 
 '^ And ever may her descendants flourish. 
 
BOOK I. .35 
 
 and heroes issue from the daughters of her 
 dauf;htcrs ! Heaven avert every thunder- 
 bolt from the imperial oak ! Four thou- 
 sand years it has stood, and sheltered 
 the sons of mothers ; little men have 
 become mighty under its branches ; but 
 thev now see a threatenincv cloud. No! 
 the cloud will pass away, and the ma- 
 jesty of tlie sun will return ! 
 
 The Indians learned the refinements of 
 art, and yet remained faithful to nature. 
 Samora established a festival, the Union 
 of Nature and Art ; because social or- 
 der and civilization were introduced ; and 
 yet, unconfined as the tenants of the 
 forests, the mothers' sons tasted the 
 pleasures of love." 
 
 The bard ended : the harp was re- 
 moved, and the silence, which succeeded 
 to its plaintive sounds, was interrupted 
 by the violin, and the soft breath of the 
 flute was heard between the loud clangor 
 of the marshal horn, with which the 
 high roof re-echoed. The eyes of the 
 
36 BOOK r. 
 
 ladies sparkled with pleasure ; the men 
 drew on their white gloves, and selected- 
 their graceful partners. 
 
 The ball began with a minuet; but 
 such a minuet^ danced with such grace, 
 with such elegance, De Grey had never 
 seen. Both men and v/omen enjoyed 
 the perfect use of their limbs ; no re- 
 straint proceeded either from the materials 
 or fashion of their habits ; the same spirit 
 of liberty, which had inspired all their 
 laws and manners, seemed to have pre- 
 sided at the toilets of the Nairs — no un- 
 natural ligatures repressed the agility of 
 the men ; no whalebone imprisoned the 
 shapes of the women, no hoops impeded 
 their motions, no high-heel gave them a 
 tottering step — they moved as nature de- 
 signed them, and far surpassed the 
 dancers of the West. Alof, son of Alsa, 
 led Oda Farnina ; her mother Farna gave 
 her hand to Rafos, the son of Daliva. 
 Other couples engaged in the stately dance. 
 Joy swelled the bosom of the aged Anora^r 
 
ROOK I. :)i 
 
 at the sight of her daughter and grand- 
 daughter dancing in the same row : but 
 J)e Cirey had no eyes but for tlie Countess 
 of Raldabar, he envied her haj)py partner, 
 and was in extacy at her superior grace. 
 An old courtier thus interru])ted his 
 admiration. " The Countess of Ralda- 
 bar is a fine woman, and, since the de- 
 parture of Princess Agalva, the unrivalled 
 beauty of the court : the inferior planets 
 shine in the absence of the sun." " In- 
 ferior r cried De Grey. " Without 
 doubt," answered the Nestor of the court; 
 " a woman may be inferior to Agalva, 
 and yet a very fine woman. Old as I am, 
 at her image, I feel a second youth! when 
 siie danced, or followed the chace, such 
 was Diana, surrounded by her nymphs : 
 in the days of chivalry your paladins 
 would have dismounted- and kissed her 
 5tirrup. Ever\' pedant, in the words of 
 Eneas, would have styled her a goddess ; 
 though she possessed the beauty of Juno, 
 rather than that of Venus : but Juno 
 
38 BOOK r. 
 
 never boasted such a smile, since her 
 temper was soured by matrimony." 
 
 The solemn minuet was succeeded by 
 dances of a livelier kind^ whose intricate 
 mazes required vivacity and spirit. But 
 now refreshments were brought ; old age 
 and immature youth retired, and the 
 green-girdled dames remained with their 
 manly partners. 
 
 A national dance began with a slow 
 and solemn march ; the music^ at first 
 plaintive and soft, grov\^s by degrees more 
 animating, and the spirit of the volu- 
 tions^ w^hich were rather graceful than 
 lively, increases, till the whole assem- 
 bly is in motion ; joy beams in every 
 eye, and quickens every soul. As the 
 moon turns round the earth, and earth 
 and moon round the central sun, so each 
 cavalier, encircling the waist of his dame^ 
 turns round her, and, breast to breast, face 
 to face, both make a wide circle round 
 De Grey, who stands in the middle of the 
 hall. Such a dance De Grey had never 
 
BOOK r. 39 
 
 seen in England ; but it recalled to his 
 memory the valses of Svvisserland and 
 Germany. From the valses his recollection 
 strayed to various occurrences which liad 
 en^ap-ed him in those countries. Nought 
 is so rapid as the thoughts of a traveller ; 
 one image succeeds to an other^ he loses 
 himself in the labyrinth of his ideas. 
 
 The silence of the music rouses him ; 
 the company had retired ; he stood alone 
 amid the servants of the palace. A har- 
 binger saw his embarrassm.ent — •' IS obi e 
 stranger," said he, " one of our customs 
 is perhaps unknown to you ; a couple, 
 having valsed together, seldom separate 
 for the night. When you are better ac- 
 quainted with our beauties, you will not 
 object to this practice ; and believe me," 
 continued he, with a courtly bow, ^' the 
 dames of our court see your arrival with 
 no unfavorable eye." 
 
 A heyduke preceding with lights, a 
 page conducted him to his chamber. 
 
 It was late before he slept, and late 
 
40 BOOK I. 
 
 before he awoke the next morning ; his 
 thoughts and dreams were full of the 
 wonders that he had seen and heard. He 
 had dressed and breakfasted in a moment ; 
 he was impatient to examine the castle. 
 
 He passed the long galleries through a 
 range of family portraits of the princes 
 and princesses of the imperial family, 
 the fore-mothers and fore-uncles of the 
 Samorin. Under the name of every mother 
 were written the names and number of 
 her children ; under that of every prince 
 the number of his victories, and the epi- 
 tome of his reign. What a feast for a 
 traveller of De Grey's romantic turn ! 
 He admires the intrepid look of each 
 warrior frowning in armor, grasping the 
 falchion dyed with the blood of the Mus- 
 sulmans, or fixing on his spear the tur- 
 bans of the slain. Now a sait of apart^ 
 ments open to receive him ; the walls 
 are adorned with the most remarkable 
 events in the history of the empire. The 
 battles of Cressy and Poictiers, which 
 
BOOK I. 41 
 
 decorate the walls of Windsor, cannot 
 elevate the English soul more than the 
 memory of these achievements must raise 
 the enthusiasm of the Nairs. This 
 picture represents the routed Persians — 
 that some victory gained in China. Here 
 a knight of the phoenix combats a host 
 of polygamists, while the trembling sul- 
 tanas put up vows for the success of their 
 champion. Here a whole harem of fe- 
 males are delivered ; bars and bolts are 
 bursty and their veils^ those degrading 
 badges of slavery, are rent asunder, and 
 they behold, for the first time, the face 
 of a stranger! — while an emir, descended 
 from Mahomet, gnashes his teeth, tears 
 his beard, and stamps on his green 
 turban, to see his concubines under the 
 protection of their deliverers. 
 
 De Grey quits each picture with regret, 
 but his curiosity always draws him on 
 to the next, till he enters the grand hall 
 of Samora. 
 
 It was the loftiest and largest hall that 
 
4S BOOK r. 
 
 he had ever beheld; a music-gallery rested 
 on the shoulders of four black marble 
 statues of eunuchs, whom one of the an- 
 tient Samorins had slain in a Persian 
 harem. Under a canopy of state, ascend- 
 ed by steps of white marble, was por- 
 trayed the divine Samora, the sublime 
 source of the family. She bestrode a 
 milk-white courser, and pierced a leopard 
 w^ith her dart=^. A number of banners, 
 the trophies of former victories, floated in 
 the air; the ceiling was blazoned with 
 shields, and armorial bearings ; and on 
 the four walls was inscribed the gene- 
 alogy of the family for four thousand 
 years. 
 
 Genealogy was once a favorite study of 
 De Grey, but, since his arrival in In- 
 dostan, he mistrusted all the pedigrees 
 in Europe. He had lately been proud 
 of being descended from an uncle of 
 
 * See the Account of SeirJrami^? iii DiodoniH 
 Siculus, 
 
BOOK I. 43 
 
 the Norman Conqueror, (for William's 
 mother was Harlotta de Grey) ; but he 
 now doubted of his relation to his own 
 father, and looked ashamed in the pre- 
 sence of the meanest mother's son, when- 
 ever the subject of birth was discussed. 
 
 He was examining this curious pedi- 
 gree, when a chamberlain requested his 
 attendance on the Samorin. After the 
 usual compliments^ the conversation turn- 
 ed to the genealogy : — '^ Yes," said the 
 Emperor, ^' I am descended from one 
 of the greatest women that ever existed ; 
 but, alas ! our family, however illustri-^ 
 ous, must end with my nephew, the 
 hereditary prince ; for the Samorina, my 
 mother, is too old to have any more 
 children ; and my only surviving sister, 
 Agalva, left this country about seventeen 
 years ago, seduced by a fatal curiosity 
 of, visiting England, and no account has 
 been heard of her since. 
 
 ^^ Judge how happy I was last night in 
 hearing that you were an Englishman. I 
 
44 BOOK I. 
 
 flattered myself, at first, that you might 
 sive some information about the unfor- 
 tunate Agalva. Oh ! had you known her! 
 our women are elegant — are amiable — 
 are beautiful ! the Countess of Rakla- 
 bar is a superior woman ; but if Agalva 
 were here, how she would eclipse them 
 all ; and, as to her mind— she had in- 
 herited the soul of Samora, she was 
 w^orthy of being her descendant. My 
 aged mother is almost heart-broken at 
 her loss. O stranger ! you cannot feel our 
 suffei'ings ! — you never lost a sister T 
 
 De Grey could not conceal his emotions ; 
 he thought on his sister Emma. 
 
 "^ I would relate to you," continued 
 the Samorin, " all the circumstances 
 leading to her departure : but Agalva, at 
 the desire of her mother, kept a journal, 
 or rather wrote her memoirs ; this book 
 we esteem as a relick. I will trust it into 
 your hands ; when you have perused it, 
 we will consider together what enquiries 
 w^e may still make after her in England, or 
 
HOOK I. 4 J 
 
 on the continent of ICiiropo. All onr eiriis- 
 fiirit's have hitherto returned unsnectssfiil.*' 
 riic Sauiorin took these papers out of 
 liis hosom ; DeCirey was all impatience 
 to read them, but he could not satisfy his 
 curiosity till evening;, fur the flourish of 
 trum])ets announced dinner. 
 
 Memoirs of Jgalva, ddi/gJUcr oj' Rofuy 
 descendant of Samoni. 
 
 ^* In my tenth year, tlie princess my 
 mother sent ine to Romoran collc":e, 
 which then counted ei^^ht hundred scho- 
 lars, of both sexes: I may say without 
 vanity, that 1 excelled in bodily exercises, 
 and was generally the first of my class. 
 Three pieces of my com])osition gained 
 the prize, and were read over in public. 
 
 '' On my seventeenth birth-day, I re- 
 ceived the crecn-irirdle from the hands of 
 my uncle the Samorin : a magiiilieent 
 fete was given ; the states of Malabar 
 
46 BOOK I. 
 
 were invited^ and ambassadors from va- 
 rious princes of the empire arrived to 
 congratulate me. 
 
 " I returned to Romoran. 
 
 " The following summer, symptoms 
 of pregnancy. For fear of disappoint- 
 ment, 1 would not acquaint my mother till 
 I were certain of the joyful event. Being 
 fetched home in the following autumn, 1 
 bore Firnos. 
 
 " Having weaned my child, I made 
 the tour of the empire, and was received 
 at all the princely courts with the dis- 
 tinction due to m}^ imperial birth. 
 
 ^' At my return to Calicut, I met an 
 Englishman at court; his name was Hugh 
 Lacy ; he had been shipwrecked on the 
 Malabar coast. Being a man of rank, 
 the Samorin received him with particular 
 attentions ; and he used to amuse us with 
 the picture that he drew of his own na- 
 tion. I found him entertaining, and used 
 to converse with him for hours together : 
 he related to me his amours in the differ- 
 
JU)OIv I. 47 
 
 ent? countries of Europe ; and though his 
 lips never disclosed his passion, his eyes 
 soon told nie that I had ceased to be in- 
 different to him ; but to his great morti- 
 fication, my affections were engaged to 
 the Baron of Naldor, son of Rohda, first 
 ladv of mv mothers bed-chamber, and 
 ne})be\v to the high steward. This dis- 
 tinguished knight of the phoenix was no 
 contemptible rival. 
 
 '^ Though 1 never meant to commit my 
 amours to paper, the behavior of this 
 European deserves a place in my me- 
 moirs : Naldor, who has written so many 
 pretty bagatelles himself, says, that a 
 little embellishment, without altering the 
 facts, would give to the whole the air of a 
 novel. 
 
 " Lacy usually passed the morning in 
 my company : he sat for hours together 
 with his eyes fixed on me, while the Sa- 
 morina my mother was instructing my 
 younger sister, and my little Firnos was 
 playing at my feet. He seemed never to 
 
48 BOOK I. 
 
 dance with pleasure but with me ; and he 
 never failed to dance with me a minuet or 
 country- dance : but when the last valse 
 began^ he had the constant mortification 
 to find my hand promised to Naldor. He 
 retires discontented to his apartment^ but 
 has no inclination to sleep ; he sits with- 
 out undressing on a chair^ and sighs, as 
 he hears the knight conducting me to my 
 bed-chamber. Hope is the nurse of love, 
 and love requires nourishment ; at length 
 he is tired of a state of despondency ; de- 
 spairing of having the woman whom he 
 would choose, he resolves to choose the wo- 
 man whom he can have. He proposes to 
 address the first unengaged fair that chance 
 should offer ; he had heard or read, in 
 some maxim-monger, that love was the 
 best cure for love, as a burnt finger may 
 be cured by being held to the fire. 
 
 Knowing that constancy was among us 
 no obligation, he imagined that it could 
 not exist; but he forgot that constancy, 
 though no duty, is a source of happi^ness, 
 
BOOK r. 49 
 
 and being spontaneous, though less in ve- 
 neration, is more in practice in Indostan 
 than elsewhere. He was surprised to 
 iind that the same couples usually retired 
 together night after night ; and perhaps 
 he would not have believed that many 
 of our lovers at Calicut had, during a 
 long succession of years, never been 
 known to change. 
 
 '^ At last a vacancy presented itself; 
 the young Count of Fitzabad, chamberlain 
 to the Samorin, and one of the greatest 
 coxcombs at the court, was the lover of 
 tlier Baroness of Madura, who two years 
 before had received the green girdle. 
 They both loved as much as their tem- 
 pers would allow ; he being a vain egoist — 
 she a thoughtless giddy creature, w^ho 
 never would have loved, had she never 
 heard love mentioned by others. A day 
 was appointed for a grand hunt, which 
 the Samorin was to give to some of the 
 princes ; and to which all the gentry, who 
 proved four noble mothers, were invited. 
 
 VOL. I, D 
 
50 BOOK I. 
 
 The Count had sent to Calicut for a 
 new hunting dress; it came^ he tried it^ 
 nothing could be so elegant or charming. 
 He was in raptures ; he ran to the young 
 Baroness's chamber to show himself ; she 
 was in the bath, he hastened there. She 
 delighted in innocent mischief; she could 
 not resist the temptation, but splashed 
 him from head to foot : his new dress was 
 spoiled, he quitted her in a huff'. He 
 could not support the raillery of the la- 
 dies ; he left the court, and the Baroness 
 called him an insignificant puppy. He 
 was not the first lover that she had lost 
 for joke. 
 
 ^^ In Europe, according to Lacy's des- 
 cription of it, this amour might have 
 ended seriously. They had both fancied 
 themselves in love ; they would have mar- 
 ried, and discovered too late their irre- 
 parable error. They might have dwelt 
 under the same roof strangers to each 
 other, and frequented the same board 
 without exchanging a syllable. The sua- 
 
liOOK I. 51 
 
 shine of love would have turned to the 
 dismal calm of indifference^ or to sullen 
 silence, the sign of a storm ; or perhaps, 
 with peevish petulancy, the only resource 
 of each would have heen to vex and tor- 
 ment the other^ or even a duel or a trial for 
 adultery might in Europe have changed 
 into a tragedy the same foolish inclination 
 which in Calicut ended as a farce. 
 
 " The evening Lacy was happy to find 
 the Baroness unengaged for the valse, he 
 oftcred her his hand, he even ventured to 
 squeeze hers^ and thought he had been 
 sufficiently enterprising for the first tit- 
 tack. Meanwhile his attentions were 
 welcome to the fair, who flattered her- 
 self that tlie Count would be mortified 
 that his place had been filled up the first 
 nigiit after his departure. But, alas ! she 
 was disappointed ; Lacy had studied <;^ol- 
 lantry in Europe, where the heart of a 
 wonian nuist be besieged by regular ap- 
 proaches ; whereas t^be^heart of a Nairess 
 will surrender at the first summons, if 
 
52 BOOK I. 
 
 inclined to surrender at all. The valse 
 had ended ; she held out her hand, 
 expecting that he would lead her to her 
 chamber. He bovved^ and retired to his 
 own. 
 
 '^ The second evening, the same desires 
 on both sides ; the same bashfulness, the 
 same disappointment. She however was 
 annoyed at his timidity, while he was 
 surprised at his own boldness ; for on the 
 second evening, he not only squeezed, 
 but kissed her hand. 
 
 '' On the third evening she had resolved 
 to invite him to her chamber; but during 
 the supper he had described his country- 
 people as such an odd race of mortals, 
 with such a number of prejudices, who 
 beheld every thing in a wrong light, that 
 ^lie absolutely hesitated, probably for the 
 first time in her life, to declare her love. 
 
 ^^ A sort of instinct or rather vanity (for 
 instinct is never deceived) told her that 
 she was loved, when in fact she was only 
 desired, which in nine cases out of ten 
 
BOOK I. 5:3 
 
 wonkl be the proper expression, llis eye 
 declared what his tongue would have 
 faltered to avow: his attentions were 
 indefatigable, though often unnoticctl or 
 misinterpreted. lie would sit for hours 
 together at her elbow, looking over her 
 cards, though he understood not a rule of 
 the game. He would dart across the 
 room to pick up her glove ; and night 
 after night, even before the ball began, 
 he engaged her for the valse, and then — 
 left her to her disappointment. 
 
 " The Baroness^gave him a rose, he wore 
 it till it withered into dust ; she lost her 
 fan, it was seen in his bureau; had he 
 not presented to her a more ele2;ant one, 
 he might have passed for a thief: she 
 dropped a ribbon, he tied it to his but- 
 ton-hole, and passed for a fool. 
 
 '^ And could a woman of her frivolous 
 character captivate the heart of a man 
 like Lacy ? of a man who had seen so 
 much of the world ; who boasted of 
 the favors of so many ladies, and in 
 
54 BOOK I. 
 
 every part of Europe ; who piqued him- 
 self on being a connaisseur as well as 
 an amateur of our sex ? Was he one of 
 those mortals, who are perpetually the 
 dupes of their own illusions ; whose ima- 
 gination, having raised an ordinary wo- 
 man into a divinity, find her worthy of 
 their incense ; who love her not as she is, 
 but as she seems to their eyes, fashioned, 
 endowed, and beautified by their fancy ; 
 who like idolators put their faith in their 
 own graven images, and like liars believe 
 at last the lies of their own invention ? 
 No, his heart was out of danger ; it was 
 in his head : the god of love had not im- 
 pressed him into his service ; he was a 
 volunteer. His passion was a system, an 
 affair of etiquette, and not a sentiment. 
 He had not felt himself in love, but he 
 said to himself, ^' J will make love ;" his 
 bosom remained perfectly tranquil, 
 though he sighed from its very bottom : 
 he had neither lost his spirits, nor his 
 appetite ; he went deliberately to work. 
 
BOOK I. 55 
 
 lie studied every expression^ and no sigh 
 was misplaced, when describing the hap- 
 piness of a pair, who are mutually blessed 
 in love; and he resolved at their next 
 interview to detail his pretensions to a like 
 felicity. 
 
 ^^ By chance he heard that a cavalier had 
 given his dame a serenade, he determined 
 not to be less gallant toward the object of 
 his adoration, «ind appeared with a band 
 of musicians under her windows ; but the 
 ideas of the cavalier were more congenial 
 to the character of our own countrymen ; 
 he had accom.panied the fair to her 
 chamber, and the concert, which he had 
 previously appointed, roused him from 
 his repose on her bosom ; and her lively 
 gratitude pressed him closer to her heart. 
 Lacy, on tlie contrary, stood shivering 
 in the palace-yard, inviting his bright sun 
 to kill the envious moon. 
 
 '' The Baroness could not doubt of his 
 inclination, but thought he had the od- 
 dest manner of expressing it : she lost ah. 
 
56 BOOK I. 
 
 patience^ and resolved to break the ice : 
 she sent a page to request his company ; 
 but the sly rogue, perhaps hoping to pro- 
 fit by his absence, could not or would not 
 find him. 
 
 *^ The following day, Lacy was strolling 
 in the garden, and probably planning a 
 declaration of love ; when the Baroness 
 herself interrupted him. What a charm- 
 ing opportunity to make a trial of his 
 eloquence ! he determines not to let it 
 slip ; so, after the usual compliments, he 
 thus addressed her : 
 
 " But his speech was too absurd for 
 •prose, it almost sounds like blank verse. 
 
 ^^ Say, shall I thank the kindness of 
 my stars, or your benevolence, that led 
 you hither, incomparable idol of my soul, 
 to whom my sighs have long confessed a 
 truth, which the timidity of modest love 
 had not the courage to avow — I love you. 
 Frown not, fair dame, on my presump- 
 tuous love ; annihilate me not with your 
 disdain ; for, sure, a form, the master- 
 
IJOOK I. 57 
 
 piece of nature, cannot contain a hard 
 unteelinjy heart. () no, vou smile — and 
 that dear smile declares, I need not curse 
 the hour I saw the light, but bless the 
 hour I first beheld your charms. When 
 charms are irresistible as yours, our love 
 is an involuntary crime ; or you are cri- 
 minal in being lovely. I venture not to 
 your transcendant merit, to mention 
 jugtice, let me hope for mercy. Oh, 1 
 conjure you, by the pangs of love ; by all 
 the graces that^i^dorn your person ; by 
 those bright eyes, to which the stars are 
 dim ; those rosy lips, to which the ruby 
 is pale ; this ivory hand, which shames the 
 mountain snow ; the humblest of your 
 slaves conjures your pity, and, conscious 
 of his own unworthiness, in the low pos- 
 ture of a suppliant, kneeling, awaits his 
 sentence — life or death." 
 
 "The Baroness doubted at fii^t whether 
 
 he was joking or earnest ; she thought he 
 
 was quizzing her. But when he fell on 
 
 his knees^ the thought struck her that 
 
 D 5 
 
5S, BOOK I. 
 
 he was mad^ and she ran away with all 
 her force. 
 
 ^^ At dinner the eyes of the whole court 
 were fixed on hi in, and the company 
 were surprised to hear him talk as sensibly 
 as usual : they began to believe that the 
 Baroness had exaggerated her account, 
 *^ No, no, my lovely niece," said one of 
 the Samorin's equerries, shaking his head, 
 " the Englishman is as little mad as any 
 Englishman can be. I am ever willing to 
 do justice to the force v./ your charms ; 
 but his countrymen, as he has himself 
 confessed, consider themselves lords and 
 masters, and treat your sex as handmaids ; 
 and you will never make me believe that 
 he would kneel at your feet," 
 
 '^ The Baroness betted with her uncle 
 that she would exhibit Lacy in that pos- 
 ture before the night were passed. 
 
 '• After the first dance, the Baroness 
 left the hall : Lacy, who had never lost 
 sight of her, followed her into one of the 
 adjoining rooms. She reclined on a sofa. 
 
HOOK I, 59 
 
 in a meditative posture, with her cheek 
 resting on her hand, and her elbow on 
 her knee, and affected to start at his ap- 
 pearance. Lacy was not of that insigni- 
 ficant character, that a capricious beauty 
 may treat with as httle ceremony as 
 her lapdog ; and the homage, which he 
 had paid to the Baroness, proceeded not 
 from weakness, but from a mistaken com- 
 phance with the etiquette of Europe. 
 He felt the absurdity of his exaggerated 
 compliments : he saw the foibles of the 
 temper, to which his gallantry attributed 
 every perfection ; and hoped to prove 
 that she was a weak woman, by making 
 her believe that she was a goddess. But 
 here his sagacity outwitted him : he forgot 
 that, in Calicut, love was no proof of 
 weakness ; and however mortified he was 
 at the ill success of his late high-flown 
 compliments, he, though with some re- 
 pugnancy of his feelings, resolved once 
 more to address the Baroness. 
 
 " The Englishman was instantly on his 
 
60 BOOK I. 
 
 knee : he pressed her hand to his hps^ 
 and then to his heart, and sighed most 
 piteously. He repeated with httle varia- 
 tion the same arguments which he had 
 used in the morning ; from what romance 
 or comedy he had borrowed them, it 
 mattered not ; but he was probably more 
 indebted to his memory than to his heart. 
 He was the humblest of her slaves — she a 
 divinity ; what condescension, if she ac- 
 cepted the incense of his praise ! yet he, 
 presumptuous mortal, aspired to taste the 
 nectar of her lips. 
 
 '' His success at this interview was almost 
 certain : the agreeable twilight of the 
 apartment, the music heard from the dis- 
 tant hall, and the dance which had just 
 warmed her, all favored the suit of a 
 handsome man, who squeezed her hand 
 so tenderly, and clasped her knees with 
 so much respect. Her projects of fun 
 were forgot : though she left the ball to 
 quizz, not to reward her lover, she began 
 to sympathize with him while he la- 
 
liOOK T. 61 
 
 mented his cruel destiny, when a titter 
 from hehind a huge old-fashioned screen 
 was heard, and her uncle and some 
 dames and cavaliers came forth from eyery 
 corner of the room, and congratulated 
 the Baroness on winning her wager. 
 
 *^ Plague take the wager," said the 
 Baroness, losing her temper. 
 
 " Lacy left the company covered with 
 shame. He was humiliated at having 
 been the sport of a foolish girl : he walks 
 up and down his chamber with hasty 
 strides ; he flings himself on a sofa, then 
 on his bed : he dismisses his valet, who 
 appeared to undrtfb him : he feels no 
 inclination to sleep ; he opens the win- 
 dow, he shuts it, and opens it a second 
 time, and looks out upon the terrace. 
 Meanwhile, the company had retired 
 and a band of musicians began a serenade 
 under the window of one of his fair neigh- 
 bors. The concert would have delighted 
 him at an other time, it distracted him 
 
62 BOOK I. 
 
 in his present humor. He leaves Iwa 
 room, and flies into the garden : he walks 
 here and there^ without knowing where 
 or whither ; he strays beyond the hmits 
 of the garden to the beach of the bound- 
 less ocean, 
 
 ^^ It is a dead calm^ no breath of wind 
 is stirring, the dark blue waves neither 
 rise nor fall : now a whispering zephyr 
 curls the surface^ and the dimple sparkles 
 like a gem in the light of the moon. 
 Again it is calm, and the extensive mir- 
 ror reflects the queen of night, and the 
 gay clouds passing her throne, as if to do 
 homage to their sovereign. What a de- 
 lightful scene for a happy lover, straying 
 arm in arm with his beloved I The 
 caprices of a woman never could have 
 rendered unhappy a man of Lacy's dis- 
 position ; but a supposed affront morti- 
 fied his vanity; and had a storm roared 
 in his ears, the lightning flashed in his 
 eyes, and the foaming billows lashed the 
 
BOOK r. 63 
 
 laeavens^ as if to extinguish the stars ; 
 these horrors would have been more con- 
 genial to his soul. 
 
 " The dawn was already appearing 
 when he returned home. Unlucky Lacy ! 
 thou knowest not what thou hast missed ; 
 the Baroness has tapped and tapped at thy 
 door in vain. She entered and found thy 
 bed empty, and returned discontented to 
 her own. She came to repair her fault, 
 and to make thee happy, at a time when 
 thou wast accusing her perverseness ; thou 
 closest thy eyes, undecided whether thou 
 shalt quit her, while she is dreaming that 
 thou art in her arms. 
 
 " It was already late vvhen he was waked 
 by his valet, who introduced me into his 
 apartment. I took a seat by his bedside, 
 and, after some compliments, addressed 
 him thus : " Our friendship, however 
 short, I hope is sincere, and will excuse 
 the familiarity with which I venture to 
 examine your conduct, which, however 
 singular it may appear to my country- 
 
64 BOOK I. 
 
 men, has perhaps been either misrepre- 
 sented or exaggerated ; or has proceeded 
 from ignorance of the customs of the 
 country. I cannot beheve you capable of 
 wilfully affronting a woman of quality ; 
 and yet the manner, in which you have 
 treated the Baroness of Madura, can in- 
 spire no high idea of your politeness. 
 You had valsed with her, and, instead of 
 accompanying her to her chamber, you 
 leave her to her meditations. This might 
 happen once by mistake ; you engage her 
 a second time, as she naturally thought^ 
 to make amends for your omission, and 
 she receives the same treatment. I can^ 
 not conceive how she could so far forget 
 her dignity, as to valse with you a third 
 time ; though I find she has done so 
 every night since. She is a gi<idy 
 thoughtless girl : her mother is at Calicut; 
 and her uncle probably knew nothing of 
 the matter. Consider the indignity to 
 which you exposed her before the ser- 
 vants of the palaccj and yet she still main- 
 
BOOK 1. C)5 
 
 tains that you love her. I have indeed 
 remarked that you generally place yourself 
 at her side, that you seem pleased with 
 her conversation, and that you kiss and 
 squeeze her hand ; but surely yon cannot 
 reckon the comedy, that you played last 
 night, a proof of your love ; if so, as 
 the Baroness has desired me to tell you, 
 you must either ( excuse the expres- 
 sion) be mad yourself, or imagine her to 
 be so." 
 
 Laci/, 
 
 And yet, madam, I acted with the 
 greatest propriety ; I am not conscious of 
 the least rudeness ; I behaved with the 
 respect that a man of gallantry owes a 
 woman of quality ; I kneeled down — 
 Agalva. 
 
 Yes, sir, you kneeled down — that is 
 the second point that I must discuss with 
 you. The Grand Marshal of the court 
 has already waited on me this morning : 
 he was present at the scene which 
 took place last night. He saw you on 
 
66 BOOK I. 
 
 your knees, and asserts that he heard you 
 confess yourself a slave^ and is distracted 
 at the idea of having introduced an im- 
 proper person at the imperial court. All 
 that he can allege is, that your passport 
 pronounced you a gentleman. Let me 
 intreat you to explain your conduct to- 
 ward the Baroness, and to confess if you 
 are a slave. 
 
 Lacy, 
 I a slave ! I am of one of the most an- 
 cient, most honorable families in Europe 
 ««^but why should I lose my temper ? I 
 perceive the mistake, which ha§ arissu 
 from our European ideas of gallantry. 
 An explanation of my conduct toward the 
 Baroness will clear up all your doubts 
 on my birth. The Baroness, I confess, 
 pleases me ; but I loved her, not because 
 I could not conceive any woman more 
 lovely, but because she, whom I v/ould 
 have preferred, was already engaged." 
 (This Lacy said with a look which I 
 perfectly understood.) '•' She accepted 
 
BOOK I. 67 
 
 me for the valse ; but surely her com- 
 phance could not authorise me imme- 
 diately to demand greater favors. I de- 
 layed the declaration of love, till I could 
 flatter myself that I had secured her af- 
 fection. Yesterday I declared my love 
 in form ; I made her the usual compli- 
 ments. A woman is not obliged to grant 
 a lover's request ; but she ought at least to 
 refuse in a politer manner an offer made 
 with becoming respect. 
 Agalva. 
 
 But why kneel do^n ? why call your- 
 self a slave ? 
 
 Lacy, 
 
 Slave, in Europe, is the technical word 
 for lover, and to kneel is the etiquette : 
 for our countrywomen not only exercise 
 a kind of despotism, but are puffed up to 
 goddesses, during the short-lived period 
 of courtship. 
 
 Agalva, 
 
 Courtship ! ye Europeans consider and 
 treat your women as slaves, and vet all 
 
08 BOOK I. 
 
 at once change conditions, with them^ and 
 pay them court. The days of court- 
 ship must be a kind of saturnaha, during 
 which the slaves are permitted to insult 
 their masters. Our women are free^ and 
 yet no Nair ever demeaned himself with 
 such an expression. I will explain the 
 mistake to the Grand Marshal ; and, give 
 me leave to remind you, that if, during 
 your stay here, any of my countrywo- 
 men, from the supreme Samorina to the 
 lowest of her sex, should please you, you 
 may express your wishes without scruple, 
 and may be sure of a gracious compliance, 
 or of a polite refusal. iVnd why should it 
 not be as easy to ask a woman to love you 
 as to dance with you ? Though she may 
 feel no inclination toward you, a sensible 
 or good-natured woman can never be 
 offended at your good opinion. 
 Lacy, 
 But would it be proper to put the 
 question to a woman, before she has had 
 an opportunity of knowing us ? 
 
BOOK I. 6*9 
 
 Agalva. 
 
 In tjhis country, why not ?- — In Europe 
 I will allow the propriety of knowing the 
 circumstances and character of a man^ to 
 whom one is bound for live ; but here^ 
 should a woman be disappointed in her 
 hopes, she quits her lover with as little 
 scruple as she would refuse to dance a 
 second time with an awkw^ard partner: and 
 now that I think of it, remember in fu- 
 ture_, that an engagement for the last valse 
 is an enjiasfement for the rest of the 
 night. 
 
 '^ Here a servant announced the Baron 
 of Naldor. 
 
 " My dear princess," said he^ '^ I have 
 been searching; for vou all over the castle. 
 Bad news ; I must quit you. The Grand 
 Master has summoned our order to the 
 banks of the Indus, for an expedition 
 against the Persians. I have not a mo- 
 ment to lose, I ought to have received the 
 writ before ; farewell, my horses are 
 already saddled." 
 
70 Book i. 
 
 ^'^ Go/' said I/'^ return crowned with 
 laurels and more worthy of my love.'' 
 
 " Our court/' said I to Lacy, when 
 the Baron was gone, " has now lost one 
 of its most amiable cavaliers, and I one of 
 my dearest friends. We were school-fel- 
 lows, and have been lovers at different 
 periods. We never find ourselves disen- 
 gaged at the same time, w^ithout uniting 
 as long as our respective affairs w^ill allow : 
 behold a love-attachment founded on 
 esteem, and regulated by reason. How- 
 happy should I be at some future period 
 to congratulate him as grand master of 
 the phoenix. This shawd, which I con- 
 stantll^ wear, was his present ; it was 
 once the turban of an emir, whom he 
 slew in battle.'* 
 
 Lacy. 
 
 Disconsolate princess, reduced to the 
 sad office of composing a dirge on the 
 merit of the departed. 
 
 Agalva, 
 
 Disconsolate ! that were ridiculous in- 
 
BOOK I. 71 
 
 deed. At his return I shall receive him 
 with open arms : during his absence I 
 shall amuse myself as I can. 
 
 ^^ As Lacy, the following evening, was 
 conducting me to the ball-room^ '^ My 
 dear princess," said he, " this morning 
 you observed to mc, that an engagement 
 for the last valse is an engagement for the 
 rest of the night ; are you willing to 
 repeat the words ?" 
 
 JIgalva. 
 
 Without hesitation. 
 Laci/. 
 
 JNIadam, may I have the honor of 
 dancing the last valse with you ? 
 jigalva. 
 
 You may have the pleasure. Can a 
 European never call things by their right 
 names ? Profane not the word, honor, 
 on such a trivial occasion. 
 ^ # # ^ 
 
 During some weeks Lacy requested 
 every night the repetition of this pleasure. 
 Lacy is a handsome man, polite, thought- 
 
72 BOOK I. 
 
 lesSj always gay^ always in good humor ; 
 has rambled over a great part of the 
 world; his conversation is amusing — but 
 how inferior is he to Naldor. 
 
 # # # * 
 
 " Naldor is returned, crowned with 
 laurels, and more worthy of my love. 
 Alas ! poor Lacy ! 
 
 -^ -7? Tf TP 
 
 " Lacy and myself are the best friends. 
 I expected at first that an European 
 would have behaved absurdly on the oc- 
 casion ; but there are women enough at 
 Calicut to console him for my attachment 
 to Naldor. The Baroness of Madura and 
 her present lover cannot remain long with- 
 out a broil. 
 
 # # # * 
 
 " The captain of an English vessel has 
 arrived at Calicut. These two Europeans 
 have given me such a curious description 
 of the West, that I am resolved to visit 
 it. They assure me, that though my sex 
 be far from free in England, yet that my 
 
ttOOK I, 7:3 
 
 personal liberty would run no risk there 
 as in Turkey or China. My mother has 
 at length consented, but insists that I 
 should leave my child with her. O my 
 dear Firnos^ heaven preserve thee in my 
 absence! What a comfort to leave thee 
 under the care of a grandmother, who will 
 love thee for her daughter s sake ! 
 * * * * 
 
 " Naldor accompanies me as equerry, 
 and Lacy as interpreter. To-morrow we 
 embark. 
 
 (signed) 
 
 Agalva RoFiNA Samorina. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
BOOK n. 
 
 JE 2 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 De Grey accompanies the Countess to Calicut— 
 Advantages of the Nair system — Honors paid to 
 
 pregnancy The festival of the Bath established 
 
 by Semiramis — De Grey presented to the Samo- 
 rina, mother of the Emperor — The tragical end 
 
 of her children A public school in Indostan— 
 
 De Grey embarks with Prince; Firnos for Eng- 
 land in quest of Agalva. 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 Befoj^e many days were passed^ Dc 
 Grey was perfectly at home at the castle. 
 The Emperor seemed pleased with his 
 company; the similarity of their griefs pro- 
 duced a sympathy between them : each had 
 lost a sister ; they spent whole hours to- 
 gether in deliberating on the means of 
 recovering the unfortunate Agalva ; and 
 to escape from his thoughts on Emma, 
 De Grey applied himself to the study of 
 the history and constitution of the empire. 
 The Countess continued his friend, and as 
 the manners of the country were so dif- 
 ferent from those of Europe, that he 
 seemed placed in a new world, he feared 
 to fall into any inipropricty, 'which might 
 
78 BOOK II. 
 
 render him as ridiculous as his country- 
 man Lacy had appeared to the whole 
 court, and begged leave to put himself 
 under her protection. She was flattered 
 at his request to be present at the lessons 
 which she gave to her children in a 
 course of political lectures ; for her son 
 and daughter pursued the same studies, 
 which were to form him as an active 
 statesman, and to enable her at a future 
 period to superintend the education of 
 her own children. In Indostan every 
 male belongs to the state, which may 
 claim his services and exertions. Every 
 man is a public character ; he is member 
 of a great republic ; but every female, 
 like the queen bee, the mother of the hive, 
 is the sovereign of a little monarchy. 
 
 De Grey found that the Indian con- 
 stitution resembled that of the German 
 empire, except that the Emperor was not 
 elective but hereditaiy in the family of 
 Semiramis ; that he was styled Samorin, 
 and the eldest princess, whether his mo- 
 
BOOK 11. 79 
 
 ther^ sister, niece^ aunt, or cousin, Sa- 
 morina, in memory of their divine ances^- 
 tress ; that every child added the name 
 of his mother to his own — thus Anandor 
 Rofin was the son of Rofa^ Cona Rofina 
 the daughter of Rofa; that the empire 
 was divided into provinces^ each governed 
 by a prince, who was of the high nobi- 
 hty ; and that each province was divided 
 into manors, belonging to the counts and 
 barons, or the gemtry of the empire ; and 
 that, from the Emperor to the meanest 
 subject, every one, at his decease, was 
 succeeded by his sister s son. Thus, as no 
 two families could be allied, when a family 
 was extinct, its possessions reverted to its 
 liege-lord, who conferred them on a new 
 one. Hence no family could become too 
 powerful for its political rank ; and when 
 an hereditary dignity was conferred upon 
 any one, it was intailed upon the heirs of 
 the body of his mother, instead of being 
 as in Europe intailed upon the heirs of 
 
80 BOOK II. 
 
 his own body, which is in fact upon the 
 children of his wife. 
 
 I)e Grey was by no means an enemy to 
 pleasure, particularly in a country where 
 love could be no impediment to his ruling 
 passion, ambition; and he was happy in 
 possessing something more than a friend 
 or preceptress in the amiable Countess. 
 Chance had produced their first acquaint- 
 ance ; but if he might have chosen among 
 all the beauties that he had seen at the 
 court, his choice w^ould probably have 
 fallen upon her, A simpering girl, with 
 the negative charms of health and good 
 temper, would never have touched him ; 
 never could have soothed his cares, or 
 deadened the stings of his conscience; but, 
 however inferior to Agalva, to whom re- 
 port allowed the majesty of a Dido, the 
 wit of an Aspasia, and every excellence 
 which a poet could attribute to a goddess, 
 the Countess of Raidabar was both an ele- 
 gant and a sensible woman ; and her 
 
BOOK II. 81 
 
 affection restored to De Grey a degree of 
 happiness which he had imagined lost 
 for ever. Whole weeks passed in her 
 society seemed so many days. He walked 
 with her, he rode with her, he hathed 
 fv'ith her ; they read the same books, they 
 followed the same studies: yet the re- 
 membrance of his sister's fate would con- 
 stantly embitter his enjoym.ent, and 
 though a look, a smile from his beloved 
 would for the moment dissipate his me- 
 lancholy, she awaking in the morning 
 would find him at her side drowned in 
 tears. 
 
 The love of solitude was a distinguishing 
 feature in De Grey's character : he was 
 never so happy as when, in the garden of 
 the palace, he was building the wildest 
 plans of glory and aggrandisement. He 
 would ramble for hours together in this 
 delightful spot, which abounded in every 
 thing lovely in the power of nature, 
 whatever could enchant the eye or inspire 
 the imagination. IVees of a thousand colors^ 
 E 5 
 
82 ^ BOOK II. 
 
 and plants of every useful property diver- 
 sified the scene, and flowers, the fairest 
 children of a perpetual spring, carelessly 
 crept on the margin of the walks, or 
 hloomed under the protection of some 
 majestic oak. Here the perfumed orange- 
 trees bov/ed with a golden load. What a 
 theatre of amusement and instruction for 
 a botanist or florist. De Grey was neither; 
 and yet the sight charmed him. In one 
 of these rambles, however, he recollected 
 the delight which his sister Emma used 
 to take in her garden ; and her unhappy 
 fate occurred to him. He sighed, he 
 sat himself down in an arbor of jasmins 
 and woodbines under the shadow of a 
 weeping willow, which dropped its boughs 
 into a glassy lake. In vain a swarm of 
 gold-fishes, which no angle, no net dis- 
 turbs, rise afe the image of the wanderer, 
 passing over the liquid mirror, and com^ 
 in troops to be fed. He notices them 
 not, nor the playful waves, which seem to 
 swell to kiss his feet: he feels not more 
 
BOOK II. 8:> 
 
 tlie chamis of nature and art, who here 
 go hand In hand hke sisters, united to 
 endow this earthly paradise. Tlie niagie 
 illusions of his ambition have vanished ; 
 he starts^ he rudely brushes on, and his 
 hasty approach fri^^htens away the birds 
 that, peeping out of the thick plantation, 
 seem to wonder at the improvements. 
 
 He was in this humor when the 
 Countess joined him, and showed him 
 the following letter, which she had just 
 received. 
 
 '^ Pitana Medusina, Baroness of Ar- 
 cot, to Zulma Mirina, Coivitess of Ral- 
 dabar; health! happiness! and a nume- 
 rous posterity ! 
 
 " The daughter of Mira will shai*e the 
 joy of her friend, and not regret a little 
 inconvenience in hastening her return to 
 ^Calicut. The curse of sterility is not 
 Wonger on me, I expect next week to be a 
 mother, and request that, during my 
 confinement, you would wait upon the 
 
84 BOOK II. 
 
 Samorina^ as lady of the bed-chamber in 
 my stead. What welcome news for my 
 brother, who was always reproaching me^ 
 who was so impatient for an heir. But I 
 wrll not inform him of the event; I will 
 surprise him, at his return from the Per- 
 sian expedition, with a new candidate for 
 the Order. My good mother, w^ho is 
 preparing the cradle for the little stranger, 
 greets the daughter of Mira. 
 
 '^ May her sons be brave, and her 
 daughters fruitful !" 
 
 '^ And but for my barbarity," cried De 
 (irey, beating his forehead in despair, ^' my 
 sister also might have given me an heir." 
 
 The departure of the Countess was 
 fixed for the next day : De Grey agreed to 
 accompany her to Calicut. He renewed 
 to the Emperor his promise of cooperating 
 toward the discovery of Agalva. The 
 monarch gave him a letter of recom- 
 mendation to the Samorina his mother : 
 De Grey handed the Countess into her 
 
BOOK II. »5 
 
 travelling coach^ and seated himself at 
 her side. 
 
 The pavement of the capital soon rat- 
 tled under their carriage wheels. The 
 Englishman, though a great traveller, 
 was surprised at the magnificence of the 
 city : he had visited the chief towns in 
 Europe. But the palace of Louis XV. at 
 Paris was inferior to that at Calicut, which 
 bore the name and was adorned with the 
 golden statue of Semiramis ; nor could the 
 Brandenburg gate at Berlin be compared 
 to the tiiumphal arch of the phoenix ; the 
 grandeur of the Nairs knows no bounds^ 
 and their capital is worthy of the nation. 
 They are a people of heroes who have 
 ornamented the residence of their sove- 
 reign with the trophies of half the east. 
 But what pleased him the most was the 
 content and cheerfulness on every coun- 
 tenance, the universal gaiety, the neat- 
 ness, and business of the shops ; the 
 elegance of the equipages, and the air of 
 
86 BOOK II. 
 
 gallantry in the youths of Cahcut attend- 
 ing: their dames, who. Hke so many Ama- 
 zons, bestrode their fiery steeds, and 
 often bowed to the Countess as they 
 passed her carriage. 
 
 They aHghted at the Countess's hotel, 
 m Samora square : she ordered an apart- 
 ment to be prepared for her lover. 
 
 " My dear Cora/' said the Countess to her 
 daughter, '^ go to the Baroness of Arcot, 
 make my compliments to the mother and 
 daughter, and inquire if Pitana has pro- 
 duced : it will be more friendly than if I 
 send a footman." 
 
 De Grey, 
 
 But why not send the young Count? 
 Countess. 
 
 Why should I ? my daughter will exe- 
 cute this commission as well. 
 De Greij. 
 
 Of that I make no doubt; but is it 
 proper for a young lady to run about the 
 streets alone ? 
 
BOOK ir. 87 
 
 Countess, 
 
 Explain your objections ; ten to one 
 you bring to ligbt some new absurdity of 
 Europe. 
 
 De Grey. 
 
 You are right, Countess ; I spoke 
 without reflection. In Europe a woman 
 is the slave to her reputation, and there-^ 
 fore no mother ventures to trust her 
 daughter out of her sight, but guards her 
 like a sultana in a harem. Even when 
 she (according to our expression) is intro- 
 duced into the world, liberty still flies her 
 like a phantom ; and in her thirtieth 
 year she is not as free as her brother in 
 his tenth. If she wishes to visit an ac- 
 quaintance, or to make any purchase, 
 she is not permitted to stir without a lacky 
 at her heels ; and how often is she dis- 
 appointed in her wishes of being present 
 at some pubhc amusement, for want of a 
 chaperon ? 
 
 De Grey exerted himself to explain the 
 meaning of the word chaperon. 
 
88 jiOOK II. 
 
 Countess. 
 
 It seems tliat ye Europeans endeavor 
 by all possible means to render your wo- 
 men simpletons. ' 
 De Grey, 
 
 True, and we are usually^ successful in 
 our endeavors. The ancient Amazons are 
 said to have maimed the a ms and legs of 
 their male children^ to render them in- 
 capable of military exenions ; and our 
 policy is equally ungenerous, we build 
 our dominion on the weakness and igno- 
 rance of our women. 
 
 Countess. 
 
 Heaven be praised, that neither §^ 
 here is jealous of the ^perfections of the 
 other. The good qualities of each is 
 advantageous to both ; and a wise govern- 
 ment, far from trying to suppress, will 
 profit by the industry of a neighboring 
 nation. 
 
 The next morning, while the Countess 
 was paying her court to the Samorina, 
 De Grey walked about the town with her 
 
BOOK II. H9 
 
 cliildren. At dinner she acquainted him 
 that the Princess was impatient to see 
 him. '^ IIovv the eye of the good old 
 woman flashed with pleasure at the 
 thought of seeing an Englishman." She 
 flattered herself with the hopes of hearing 
 some account of her unhappy daughter ! 
 alas! her hopes are but too little founded 
 of recovering her lost child. 
 
 De Grey consents to be presented to 
 her imperial highness the next day. 
 
 The conversation turned to De Grey's 
 walk about the town. 
 
 De Grey. 
 
 Have the goodness, my dear Countess, 
 to satisfy my curiosity on one point. As 
 we passed some magnificent hotel or ele- 
 gant house, I always enquired of Cora or 
 her brother the name of its proprietor : 
 this house belonged to some Baroness, 
 that hotel to some Countess; an other to 
 a third lady, and so forth. I remember 
 not to have passed a single house belong- 
 m^ to a male. How comes it that all vour 
 
so 'BOOK II. 
 
 houses belong to women r Your men 
 perhaps inhabit a different part of the 
 town ? 
 
 Countess. ] 
 
 By no means ; but neither in Calicut! 
 nor in any part of the empire is it usual 
 for the males to possess houses. Suppose 
 a war were to break out^ could our war- 
 riors march like snails or tortoises with 
 their houses on their backs ? 
 De Grey, 
 
 But where live they then ? 
 Countess, 
 
 They either live with their mothers, 
 sisters, aunts, or cousins ; accept apart- 
 ments in the houses of the women whom 
 they love, or hire a lodging from some 
 female, who has room to spare. For 
 though the Emperor, the princes of the 
 empire, and the governors of towns and 
 provinces have their palaces, these are 
 official habitations, which every public 
 officer enters upon succeeding to his 
 office ; but every houae in the empire 
 
BOOK II. 91 
 
 belongs to some female. I, for instance^ 
 inherited this house from my mother, 
 who inherited it from my grandmother's 
 eldest sister, who, havipg built it, died 
 without children ; and our country house 
 has for centuries passed from mother to 
 daughter in the same manner. At my 
 death they will belong to Cora. 
 
 De Grey, 
 But the young Count and his brothers? 
 
 Countess, 
 Will receive an annuity from the 
 estate, and probably dwell with their sis- 
 ters, in the same way as my brothers, 
 when in town and unengaged, dwell with 
 me. But at present my eldest brother is 
 fighting against the Persians, and my 
 second has dwelt for many years with the 
 woman of his affections. 
 
 De Grey, 
 But if brother and sister should quarrel, 
 might she not turn him out of doors ? 
 
 Countess, 
 She might desire him to quit the house ; 
 
92 BOOK II. 
 
 and in Europe, where the brother inhe- 
 rits the house, may he not turn his sister 
 out of doors ? and is not a man with a 
 suitable annuity more able to provide 
 himself with a lodging than your help- 
 less European woman^ who, as you have 
 said, may not stir out of doors without a 
 lacky at her heels, and yet may be turned 
 upon the wide world with all her weak- 
 nesses of body and mind, and with her 
 vulnerable reputation ?" 
 
 Luckily the Countess looked an other 
 way as she said this, for a tear of remorse 
 stood in De Grey's eye. He thought on 
 his sister Emma. The Countess proceeded. 
 
 " And 1 must do my country the jus- 
 tice to suppose, that no where family 
 concord is so general as here. If 1 may 
 judge from the description of your coun^. 
 try, whenever a family is at variance, 
 nine times out of ten love or marria^-e is 
 the cause of its disunion. One child mar- 
 ries against the consent of its parents ; an 
 other child refuses to marry to oblige 
 
BOOK II. 93 
 
 tbeiii. Now the lustre of an honorable 
 family is disgraced by a misalliance : now 
 a covetous parent renounces his daughter, 
 whom a fortune-hunter has stolen away. 
 Such events must be familiar to you ; 
 but here this cause of strife is^ unknown. 
 A marriage concerns a whole family, 
 which therefore is authorised to promote 
 it or to protest against it: but love is 
 merely personal ; and it is indifferent to 
 a mother, whether her daughter prefer 
 the meanest individual to the his:h-born 
 knight of the phoenix. An other reason 
 why the members of the same family are 
 more united is, that no family is allied to 
 an other, A family in Europe may, by 
 one marriage, become related to ten 
 others : its relations are so diffuse, and 
 its ties of consanguinity are so various, 
 that they must lose their force. But here 
 the Emperor is only related to the impe- 
 rial family, and is perfectly unallied to 
 any other. It is the same with the other 
 sovereign families in their principalities ; 
 
94 BOOK II. 
 
 I have not a relative on earth, but who 
 derives his name from our lordship Ralda- 
 bar. Thus the kindred being less nume- 
 rous^ and all the individuals of the same 
 family^ whether nobles or peasants, bear- 
 ing the same name, they are more united 
 in love and aifection'^. Where these are 
 wanting, pride and vanity cement their 
 union. Thus having fewer occasions to 
 quarrel, and greater inducements to live 
 in harmony, you need not be surprised at 
 the number of our countrymen, who con- 
 stantly reside with their kinswomen. 
 
 " I have hitherto only mentioned the 
 comforts which individuals derive from 
 our system of inheritance ; let us now 
 consider its political advantages : this is 
 the chief source of our national strength » 
 Our armies are invincible ; and since Sa« 
 mora founded our empire, every war has 
 
 ' * The amity that unites the most distant rela. 
 tives among the Nairs is confirmed by Biichanan in 
 his late account of Malabar, vol. ii. page 412. 
 
BOOK It. 95 
 
 extended its limits. The trumpet sounds, 
 and every warrior, or, if the empire be 
 attacked, every able-bodied man flies to 
 the banner of the phoenix. The phcEnix 
 is a fabulous bird, at the death of which 
 its successor rises from its ashes : hence 
 it was selected with great propriety to 
 distinguish the shield of our emperor, and 
 to be the national badge of our country. 
 Every man here is unimpeded by children 
 in the path of glory, as long as he lives ; 
 but at his death his nephews arise, as if 
 from the ashes of their uncle, to carry on 
 his name, and sustain the honor of his 
 family. The empire is generally at peace 
 with the Mahometans ; but an order of 
 knights have sworn to wage perpetual war 
 with the polygamists, as long as a woman 
 is confined in a harem ; and as the Em- 
 peror has conferred upon them the na- 
 tional badge, they are styled knights of 
 the phoenix. From the celibacy of our 
 men proceeds the glory of our empire : 
 
96 BOOK II. 
 
 should a war break out, we have whole 
 regiments in arms^ before our enemies 
 haye so many companies. Our warriors 
 have the fate of no widow to distress 
 them ; the welfare of no orphan to in- 
 terest them ; no affairs to be settled ; no 
 will to be made ; they are to-day at Cali- 
 cut, to-morrow on the banks of the Indus 
 or on the frontiers of China. They 
 hasten wherever their duty calls them : 
 how small their travelling equipage ; a 
 portmanteau contains their wardrobe ; 
 their habits are few, as every province 
 has its uniform : even if inclined to study, 
 they need not load themselves with books, 
 there being a public library in every 
 town. Two horses and a gToom are the 
 establishment of a gentleman of quality : 
 he lives on an annuity, he has no domes- 
 tic cares_, he belongs to the state. 
 De Grey. 
 His annuity he receives from his mater- 
 nal estate ; and mothers of rank can pro- 
 
KOOK II. J^7 
 
 vide for their children ; but would not a 
 poor woman, or one in moderate circum- 
 stances, be ruined by a numerous offspring? 
 Countess. 
 
 Far from it. A woman rich in children 
 can never be poor. Perhaps in Europe a 
 mother may be obliged to pinch herself 
 for her children ; but here, every mother 
 receives a sum out of the public treasury, 
 according to the number of her children. 
 We consider the maternal duties the 
 chief duties of her sex ; and the woman, 
 who augments its population, and the 
 njan, who fights its battles, have an 
 equal claim on the gratitude of their 
 country. 
 
 That same evening De Grey beheld an 
 instance of the encouragement given to 
 population, and the respect paid to a 
 state of pregnancy. The happy Pitana 
 called upon the Countess, and begged her 
 to air with her in the park : De Grey ac- 
 companied them. At the gate of the 
 town the sentinel saluted them. 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
9^ BOOK II. 
 
 '^ Have I such a martial air/' said De 
 Grey, " that the soldier takes me for a 
 military man ? It is true, I was once in 
 the militia." 
 
 " Pardon me/' answered the Countess^ 
 " he saluted the promising shape of my 
 friend the Baroness. A pregnant woman 
 is considered on duty, and therefore the 
 sentinel salutes her, as he would salute a 
 patrole that passes the guard-house." 
 De Grey, 
 
 Now I can account for the astonishing 
 population of your empire, where no 
 scrap of earth lies waste, and every moun- 
 tain is cultivated to its top. No wonder 
 that your women produce children. 
 Countess. 
 
 And to-morrow the disconsolate Samo- 
 rina will convince you, that our women not 
 only produce, but love their children. 
 
 When De Grey awoke the next morn- 
 ing, he was surprised at the bustle in the 
 street : he ran to the window ; a crowd 
 of people poured along toward the palace : 
 
BOOK Ilr ^^ 
 
 they were dressed in their best clothes. 
 The ringing of bells announced a holiday, 
 it was the festival of the bath. 
 
 The Countess soon appeared : he had 
 never seen her so magnificently^ or more 
 elegantly attired, thougli in a court dress. 
 He had expected to have seen her, after 
 waiting some hours, issuing out of her 
 apartment, in an unwieldy hoop, brush- 
 ing the furniture as she passed along, and 
 with difficulty steering through a folding 
 door. To his surprise, her toilet had 
 been expeditious as usual : she bore a 
 coronet of precious stones, from which 
 her hair flowing in natural ringlets floated' 
 on her swelling bosom, and shaded her 
 ivory neck ; and her purple robe, fastened 
 with a diamond-studded zone, swept the 
 ground. 
 
 De Grey colild not contain his admira- 
 tion. " Yes," cried he, '^ should the old 
 Nestor of the court behold you to-day, he 
 would retract every comparison derogSi- 
 tory to your beauty. Such was Venus 
 F 2 
 
100 BOOK II. 
 
 when she wore her zone." '^ True," ans- 
 wered the Countess, " but Juno eclipsed 
 Venus, when she had borrowed this zone; 
 and if the Princess Agalva were here, if 
 you saw her attired for this festival, I 
 doubt whether you would prove more 
 constant to me, than your countryman 
 Lacy to the Baroness of Madura." 
 
 The Countess proceeded to describe 
 the ceremony which was to take place 
 and the event which it was to commemo- 
 rate. '' Saiiiora, the illustrious founder of 
 our empire, possessed such authority that 
 her presence alone was able to quell a 
 sedition. One day =* she was bathing, 
 when the captain of her guard announced 
 a commotion among her Persian captives. 
 The Princess, naked as she was, hurries 
 to the insurgents: their resolution fails 
 them, they prostrate themselves at her 
 feet, and implore her pardon. Samora 
 ordered that the anniversary of this day 
 
 * See IHodorns Siculus. 
 
sliotild be celebrated, and that the chief 
 or her female descendants should always 
 bathe in pubhc on this day. The sin- 
 gularity of this institution, so contrary to 
 your European ideas, may strike you ; 
 but accuse not that great woman of a 
 puerile vanity, desirous to perpetuate the 
 memory of her own intrepidity. No, her 
 motives proceeded from a nobler source ; 
 she saw the state of slavery in wdiich the 
 neighboring nations held their women, 
 whom they obliged to veil themselves from 
 head to foot, and whose bodies they con- 
 sidered private property, which they 
 were entitled to conceal as a miser would 
 hide his treasures. Samora saw that a 
 false modesty was the first pretext toward 
 the humiliation of her sex, and being her- 
 self revered as a j)rophetess, she wisely 
 contirmed their liberties by the authority 
 of reIi<;'ion, and cut at once at the root of 
 the evil, by ordering the first woman in 
 the empire to appear naked before the 
 4?ves of the whole nation." 
 
102 BOOK II. 
 
 The crowd was so great that the Coun- 
 tess's carriage could advance but slowly. 
 The whole nation seemed animated with 
 one enthusiasm of glory ; every individual 
 appeared conscious of the advantages 
 that he enjoyed ; all the streets/ through 
 which the procession was to pass^ had 
 been richly decorated ; the sportive fancy 
 of a lively people had produced a variety 
 of matriotic devices^ and the magnificence 
 that reigned on every side was worthy of 
 a city that fame had proclaimed the capi- 
 tal of the East. After having passed .the 
 Samorina's palace, a pile of building, 
 spacious and magnificent as Versailles, 
 they arrived at the Temple of Samora, 
 an edifice not inferior to St. Peter's. The 
 Countess conducted De Grey to a gallery, 
 destined for strangers, and left him to 
 join the suite of her august mistress. De 
 Grey's eyes wandered from object to object; 
 he could not sufficiently admire the stupenv 
 dous monument of Syrian architecture. 
 
 A hundred instruments and a thousand 
 
liOOK II. lOJ 
 
 voices announce the appearance of the 
 Samorina. She comes ! sovereign prin- 
 ces in her suite, surrounded by the mini- 
 sters of state, attended by the first officers 
 of her household. Among the ladies of 
 the court the Couptess of Raldabar shines 
 imrivalled for her elegance and beauty. 
 
 The high priest flings the censer on 
 high, the air is filled with frankincense, 
 an awful silence reigns. The Samorina 
 approaches the bath, below the high altar. 
 The chamberlains assist her to lay aside 
 her purple robe, the muslin falls; she 
 stands in her nakedness, majestic, mider 
 the statue of her divine ancestress. She 
 descends the marble steps, and, triumph- 
 ing over age, disdains to touch the golden 
 bullustrade. 
 
 Meanwhile a flute in Lydian measure 
 accompanies the sweetest voice that ever 
 sung the praise of love : the Princess 
 reaches the middle of the bath ; the voice 
 stops — tlje soft notes of the flute are 
 
104 BOOK il. 
 
 drowned in the loud clangors of the mar- • 
 tial trumpet — the fife plays an air of 
 defiance and the drum beats to arms. 
 The whole concert imitates the commo- 
 tion which threatened Samora's throne. 
 
 The Princess passes with a tranquil 
 mien^ and ascends the opposite steps. 
 The music ceases as if awe-struck at her 
 presence — a perfect silence— the Persian 
 and Chinese ambassadors^ according to an 
 immemorial custom, fall prostrate at her 
 feet. This is the great annual triumph of 
 Calicut. At length she beckons to them 
 to rise ; and they, however indignant, 
 muift each produce a silken towel^ (the 
 Persian's towel must be green, the color of 
 Mahomet,) tliey must wipe her before tlie 
 eyes of the Nair^. A knight of the phoe- 
 nix, deputed by the grand master, re- 
 cei-ves these towels; they will be converted 
 into flags for the order, ftnd, preceding 
 them in their excursions against the Poly- 
 ji'amists, will rai«e their enthusiasm for 
 
BOOK II. 105 
 
 their own glory, and augment their con- 
 tempt of the enemy. 
 
 But now, while the solemn organ is 
 celebrating the re-established tranquillity 
 of the empire, the Samorina re-assum<rs 
 her habits. 
 
 Perhaps a man of pleasure, who might 
 have expected to have seen the figure of a 
 Venus rising from the water, would have 
 been disappointed. The respectable Sa- 
 morina, though of a dignified deportment, 
 was old enough to be a great grand- 
 mother, and consequently was no object 
 of desire ; yet De C^rey, as an observer 
 of mankind, was happy in seeing this 
 ceremony, which at Calicut was not con- 
 sidered a subject of curiosity, but an act 
 of devotion, to w4iich the bigoted part 
 of the nation flocked from every part. 
 
 He knew that superstition was capable 
 of the grossest absurdities. The barren 
 women of antiquity having laid aside their 
 garments in the temple of Juno, received 
 so many stripes from a lupercal priest^ 
 F 5 
 
lo6 BOOK n. 
 
 who with a scourge of goafs leather com- 
 municated to them the gift of child-bear- 
 ing. Of this he had read, and he had seen 
 the fair pilgrims at Loretto consecrate 
 their baby-linen at the shrine of the 
 Madorm. Though superstitions may dif- 
 fer, human nature is ever the same ; he 
 therefore was not surprised at the simpli- 
 city of the women of Calicut, who dipped 
 their fingers in the water which their 
 holy Princess had consecrated, and marked 
 some mystic figure upon their foreheads. 
 This water was a sovereign specific for 
 barrenness. 
 
 But now two bands appeared of youths 
 and virgins, the hopes of their country ; 
 health on every cheek, pleasure in every 
 eye ! The day had arrived that w as to open 
 to them a new career ; that day which so 
 many dreams had anticipated, which had 
 engaged the curiosity of so many months. 
 The breast of the mother l)eat with plea- 
 sure, as her blooming daughter passed, 
 who renewed the remembrance of the 
 
BOOK II. 107 
 
 spring of her life^ and seemed her own 
 image^ her socond self^ eorbtlHshed with 
 all the graces of yos.^th ; and the, pride of 
 the uncle arose at feeelhg,' in^the hands of 
 his nephew, the sani^.'swQrd, which he" 
 some years before had *carrird'crh .'a similar 
 festival ; but the nephew shall Wield it 
 now, shall reap laurels with it for the 
 good of the country, and for the honor 
 of their family. 
 
 The Saraorina and the Emperor her 
 son stood on the steps of the high altar, 
 under the statue of their divine ances- 
 tress ; they ^Yere in their imperial robes. 
 The heralds, in their official garb, sur- 
 rounded them. The procession approaches 
 them. Phcenix, king of arms, proclaims 
 the name of each youth and virgin that 
 ascends the step : each youth bears in his 
 hand a sword ; the Samorina girds it on. 
 ^' Nephew of heroes," says she, " defend, 
 with this sword, the rights of women !" 
 Each virgin wears a girdle of white, the 
 color of purity ; and bears a green girdle 
 
108 ' BOOK 11. 
 
 in her hand : green is the color of hope. . 
 The Samorin looi>ens the white band^ 
 and girds her with green. " Daughter of 
 free womer«,'' says he, " be the mother of 
 heVoes." A flourish of trumpets announces 
 the happ}' ' moment of emancipation ; 
 their maturity is acknowledged ; they are 
 declared masters and mistresses of their 
 own persons. A natural and reasonable 
 •right ; but, alas ! violated in almost every 
 quarter of the globe. 
 
 The festival of maturity was established 
 by Semiramis herself. In order that a too 
 early indulgence of love might not injure 
 the health of her subjects, she, in her 
 prophetic capacity, 'ordained that every 
 mature youth should, on some particular 
 festival, be girt with a sword, and every 
 mature virgin with a green girdle, and 
 that, before this ceremony, they should be 
 forbid to love ; that two immature per- 
 sons, who should break this law, should 
 be punished as children ; but that any 
 man or woman^ who should debauch a 
 
HOOK ir. l()[) 
 
 child, should be ])ronounccd intanious for 
 ever. Such is the law of nature and of 
 Sainora. 
 
 The ceremony ends, the procession re- 
 tires; their friends congratulate the youths 
 and virgins as they pass. They had been 
 liefore styled squires and damsels, they 
 are now entitled knijihts and dames. 
 
 The Samorina, leaning upon her im- 
 perial son, walks under a canopy of state 
 to a carriage, diavvn by eiglit milk-white 
 steeds. The bells ring, and cannons 
 roar, as the cavalcade passes to the palace. 
 
 The Countess returned and offered to 
 conduct De Grey to the Samorina. The 
 Princess received him in her cabinet; she 
 dispensed with all formalities of etiquette, 
 or rather she never thought on them. She 
 was so affected at the sij>ht of an Enirlish- 
 man ; tears came into her eyes ; she made 
 hini sit down by her side. He never saw 
 goodness and dignity so blended in the 
 same person, or found a wrinkled counte- 
 nance so prenosseseing ; while her edu- 
 
liO BOOK It. 
 
 cation liad inspired her with the highest 
 ideas of her own rank, her good heart 
 was well-disposed toward all mankind. 
 Samorlna. 
 I hope the Countess procured you a 
 good place to see the bath. As a tra- 
 veller you came opportunely to see a re- 
 markable ceremony, possibly performed 
 for the last time. During four thousand 
 years, a princess of our family has an- 
 nually bathed in public. But I, alas ! am 
 the only remaining female descendant of 
 Samora, and 1 feel my strength decreas- 
 ing ; the hour of my death approaches : 
 before a year is passed, I may have 
 retired to my ancestress. Heaven knows 
 what calamity threatens the nation — all 
 the prophecies concur in denouncing the 
 evils that will follow the omission of this 
 ceremony. And I was once so happy ! — 1 
 was the mother of foui: children ! a family 
 not numerous, but of such promising 
 children! I have lost three of them ! 
 Have you been long enough in this 
 
HOOK H. Ill 
 
 country, to feel the greatness of the loss ? 
 You know how venerable the title mo- 
 ther sounds in the ears of my countrywo- 
 men. I have but one son, and one grand- 
 son, the only surviving descendants of 
 Saniora ; they alone will follow my bier. 
 With them the line will be extinct — no 
 posterity will honor our tombs ! 
 
 "' And I was once so happy ! I had a 
 daughter ! O Countess ! describe Agalva 
 to your friend. He will suspect the 
 partiality of a mother. 4 will not mention 
 the beauty of her person. Those are the 
 pictures of my four children ; that i« 
 Agalva — such was her blue eye — her hair 
 hung in such ringlets — such was the 
 sweetness of her smile — but the grace, in 
 all her motions, no painter could express ! 
 It was inexpressible on canvas, though 
 indelible in the memory of a mother. 
 A horse is never brought into the palace 
 yard, but I remember the agility with 
 which she sprang on her fiery steed. At 
 every court-ball her image occurs io me. 
 
112 BOOK ir. 
 
 How she surpassed her companions ! 
 Though young, she had an innate majes- 
 ty, that would have resembled pride, but 
 for her smile, which made every heart her 
 own. But my eyes seek her in vain ; I 
 discover — I seem to discover some of her 
 features, some of her charmis distributed 
 among the most interesting of her sex; 
 but where is Agalva ? where is she, who 
 united them all ? O heaven, were all thy 
 gifts exhausted upon her ? was she only 
 formed to engross for an instant the admi- 
 ration of the world, and to awake our 
 eternal regret ? 
 
 " So much for her figure, for her 
 superiority in every graceful accomplish- 
 ment. She was sent to one of our first 
 public schools; she was the beat scholar 
 of her class. How often have I read to 
 the whole court some poem or essay of 
 her writing, which had gained the prize ? 
 She was in her eighteenth year when 
 she wrote me that she was pregnant : 
 I still keep the letter ; I often bedew it 
 
BOOK IT. 113 
 
 with my tears. She returned home^ and 
 was dehvered of Firnos^ the present he- 
 reditary prince. 
 
 " After having weaned her cliild, she 
 made a tour of tlic empire. That the 
 courtiers of Calicut, and the subjects of 
 her own family, should find her a pro- 
 digy was natural enough ; but what plea- 
 sure it gave to me, her mother, to hear 
 her praises reechoed from every distant 
 province. She was an object of admiration 
 at the court of every independent prince: 
 every mother in Indostan envied the 
 mother of Agalva. Oh, I was then to be 
 envied ! What am I now ? a solitary old 
 w^oman ; a tree robbed of its branches; 
 a withered stock : it has stood four thou- 
 sand years, but every gust of wind threat- 
 ens it with destruction. 
 
 *^ Agalva had returned from her travels; 
 a great fete was given at court on the 
 occasion ; when two of j^our countrymen 
 were presented to the late Samorin my 
 brother, and were invited to the ball. 
 
114 BOOK II. 
 
 Agalva^ l^appy in every opportunity of 
 extending her knowledge, sought their I 
 conversation, and inquired after the cus- 
 toms and manners of England, They j 
 described the singularities, and (excuse 
 the expression) the absurdities of your 
 country ; but this only inspired her with 
 a curiosity of visiting so odd a nation, and 
 she resolved to accompany them to Eng- 
 land. I exerted myself in vain to dissuade 
 her ; but upon their assuring me, that 
 though women were far from free in their 
 country, yet her personal liberty would 
 not be endangered as in Persia or China, 
 and that no one would oblige her to 
 marry against her will, I was forced to 
 consent. I luckily prevailed upon her to 
 leave her little son to my care. She em- 
 barked for England, promising to return 
 after having staid a year in the island ; 
 but seventeen years are passed^ and we 
 have not heard of her since. Conceive 
 the feelings of a mother at this uncer- 
 tainty ; sometimes I see her image striving 
 
BOOK II. 115 
 
 witli the waves ; sometimes 1 am terrified 
 at the idea that she is murdered, impri- 
 soned or married. For many years I have 
 not enjoyed an hour's tranquilhty. 
 
 " Such have been my torments ; but 
 the pohtical consequences of her loss were 
 not always so disastrous ; for I had once 
 an other daughter to continue the impe- 
 rial line ; but she also has been snatched 
 away, she who remained the only hopes 
 of her mother, the idol of Calicut, the 
 last support of the empire : her end was 
 dreadful, snatched away in the bloom of 
 her youth. That was her image, next to 
 4;hat of her beloved brother Aigrof ! see, 
 she also was handsome, was beauteous as 
 her sister Agalva, but of a different beau- 
 ty : she was soft, tender and melancholy. 
 She shed a tear as Aigrof departed to join 
 the knights of the phoenix. 
 
 ^* Aigrof was no character for this 
 aire : he seemed born centuries too late. 
 He w'SHld have shone in the days of chi- 
 valry :;|?e never valued^ this life; he con- 
 
Il6 BOOK II. 
 
 sidered it merely as the price with vviiicu 
 he could purchase immortality. Even as 
 a child, when he passed the portraits of 
 his fore-imcles in the long galleries of the 
 castle^ his heart beat, a tear rose in his 
 eye, he clenched his little fist with rage, 
 that he had not equalled their renown. I 
 followed him with the anxiety of a mo- 
 ther, I marked his restlessness. 1 hailed 
 each tear ; it was a precious drop, with 
 which nature consecrates her favorites. 
 Ah ! who coiiid foretell that this thirst of 
 glory would extirpate the family of Sa- 
 mora. Though the down had scarcelv 
 appeared upon his chin, he had risen to 
 one of the highest posts in the Order: 
 he was chosen to defend the banks of the- 
 Indus from tlie ravages of the Persians. 
 
 ^' One night these barbarians had 
 crossed the river ; they avoided the towns, 
 but attacked the defenceless villages, and 
 set lire to the lonely cottage: they mur- 
 dered the suckling at the breast of tlie 
 mother, and drove the women before tliem 
 
BOOK ir. 11 J' 
 
 like a flock of deer. The tocsin sounded ; 
 it was midnight ; but Aigrof had not 
 retired to rest : he sat in his chamber 
 adorned with the busts of heroes, and 
 read a tale of other times. He started at 
 the sound ; his impatience waited not for 
 his steed. He hastened to the peasants ; 
 they were lost in terror, he ralhed them 
 to the charge, they pursued the enemy 
 by the light of the flames that were re- 
 ducing: their cottages to ashes. Aiorofs 
 way was marked with blood, he bora a 
 torch in one hand, his sword in the other 
 dealt death at every blow ; but the torch 
 discovered the embroidered phcenix at his 
 breast. The Mahometans distinguish 
 their sworn enemy ; the deadly arrow is 
 launched, but Aigrof heeds not the 
 wound, he follows them to the stream, he 
 chaces them to their boats, the shore is 
 strewed with the slain. 
 
 '^ Exultations of joy fill the air ; the 
 peasant cuts the fetters of his sister or of 
 his beloved, whom the young hero had 
 
118 HOOK II. 
 
 delivered. Aigrof sees this, he partici- 
 pates their joy, they clasp his knee, they 
 would bathe his hand with tears of grati- 
 tude ; they start, they are wet with the 
 blood of their benefactor ; a stream flows 
 from his side, he has received his death- 
 wound. 
 
 '' Meanwhile the trumpet of the phoe- 
 nix sounded ; the castle-guard marched 
 toward the shore, but his brother-knights 
 found him a Hfeless corse ; he had expired 
 in the arms of the peasants. Such was 
 the end of Aigrof, it could not have been 
 more glorious ; but alas ! how doubly fatal 
 it has proved, though, at the time, I know' 
 not whether I felt more sorrow or pride 
 at the account. 
 
 *^ Aigrof that very night had been 
 reading a favorite author ; the following 
 passage pleased him ; it was congenial 
 with his own sentiments, he copied it in 
 his tal;>lets." 
 
 '^ Yes, death, on the arm of honor I will 
 approach thee. Oh, that in the splendor 
 
BOOK II. 119 
 
 of a conqueror I could invoke thee ! that my 
 last look might close on a routed enemy, a 
 paean my funeral dirge, my grave a pil- 
 grimage for heroes ! To-morrow away 
 with thee, my life ; yes, to-morrow away 
 with thee ; thy value consists in the man- 
 ner of losing thee : Ufe is oblivion ; death 
 opens the gates of immortality." 
 
 '' The Order of the Phoenix erected a 
 mausoleum on the spot : it is of black 
 marble ; the above passage is engraved on 
 it. The Indus, which mixed with his 
 blood, now bathes the laurels on his 
 tomb ! — alas! the tomb of his sister also. 
 
 " His beloved sister was soon after on 
 a tour through the empire : the years of 
 her education were over. She had longed 
 to visit the grave of her brother; she 
 came; she beckoned her attendants to 
 retire, while she gave an hour to melan- 
 choly : hour after hour melted away, his 
 fate fascinated her to the spot. Mean- 
 while the liquid mirror reflected the silver 
 moon, and a haughty mirza, on the op- 
 
1^0 BOOK n. I 
 
 i 
 
 posite shore, beheld her white garments 
 as she sat on the marble steps. The haxu- 
 rious Persian was on a hunting party ; he 
 sat cross-legged on a cushion, and smoked 
 before his tent. He regretted the absense 
 of his harem, his imagination perhaj^g on 
 fire with the thoughts of the houris and 
 the pleasures of paradise promised to the 
 faithful. In this humor perhaps he be- 
 held my unhappy daughter; love is 
 unknown to these miscreants, and one 
 woman was as acceptable as an other. 
 Too dastardly to venture himself, he dis^ 
 patched some of his slaves to seize her ; 
 the boat paddies across the stream ; he.r. 
 cries rouse her attendants, they fly to her 
 assistance, but she is already in the boat^ 
 the boat already off the shore. 
 
 ^' Other boats launch into the stream 
 to rescue her ; the w^ater foams ; the hills 
 re-echo to their oars. At every stroke 
 they approach her boat ; the slaves hang 
 spent over their oars, their strength fails- 
 In vain the eunuch raises his voice; threats 
 
BOOK n. 121 
 
 aiul promises are vain. A kaiglit of tlie 
 phuiiiix, a lovcT of iny daUL;liter, has al- 
 ready boarded the boat ; w hen the caitiF 
 wretch poigaards my daughter to the 
 heart, and plunges into the stream. Her 
 ashes repose in the grave of her brother. 
 The murder of an imperial princess caused 
 a war : Persia has been })unished with 
 lire and sword; but should Shiras float in 
 the blood of the Mussulmans, and the 
 plough-share pass over the walls of Ispa- 
 han, that would not restore my children. 
 The iron sceptre of destiny oppresses the 
 posterity of Samora. 
 
 *' Sometimes however a ray of hope 
 brightens our dismal prospects. We che- 
 rish every possibility ; we still flatter our- 
 selves that Agalva lives; that some unfore- 
 seen accident (and how numberless are 
 the accidents of human life) still detains 
 her in your country ; and on you, gene- 
 rous Briton, we build all our hopes. You 
 will not refuse us your assislanee. How- 
 ever distressing our state of uncertainty is, 
 
 VOL. T. », 
 
122 BOOK II. 
 
 though it has planted my pillow with 
 thorns^ and will break the thread of my 
 life, yet we cannot require that you 
 should hasten your return home on our 
 account ; but only, when you return, 
 permit sonie officer, appointed by my son 
 the Emperor, to accompany you back to 
 England, and, with your advice and di- 
 rections there, assist his inquiries after my 
 unfortunate child." 
 
 De Grey having assured the Samorina 
 oF his readiness to fulfill all her desires, 
 retired with his fair conductress. But how 
 happy was the Princess the next day, 
 when the Countess informed her of De 
 Grey's resolution to settle at Cahcut; that 
 he proposed to return to England merely 
 to arrange his affairs, to see his friends 
 and family, and to endeavor to prevail 
 upon a beloved sister to accompany him 
 back to India — for he doubted not to find 
 her willing to exchange the constraint, 
 which shackled her sex in Europe, for the 
 rights which the women of Malabar had 
 
BOOK II. 12:> 
 
 inherited from their fore-mothers ; and 
 that he offered to make every inquiry 
 after Agah^a, which his knowledge of the 
 country would enable him to do better 
 than a foreigner. 
 
 A ship in the harbor being ready to 
 sail in a few days, De (jrey agreed to em- 
 bark in it. 
 
 But the Samorina was desirous that, 
 before his departure, he should see her 
 grandson the hereditary prince, in order 
 to be able to inform Agalva (if he should 
 be so fortunate as to find her in England) 
 of the welfare and improvements of her 
 son. Without loss of time, De Grey 
 departed with the Countess in her chaise 
 and four for the college at Romaran. 
 
 In a few hours they saw the distant 
 spires of this venerable edifice, the well- 
 preserved monument of imperial munifi- 
 cence. Arrived at the bridge, which ter- 
 minates the play-groimd of the college, 
 the Countess perceived that the scholars 
 were engaged in a game of cricket ; they 
 G 2 
 
124 BOOK iL 
 
 descend^ De Grey offers her his arm, 
 they cross the field. At that moment 
 a cry of applause arrests their atten- 
 tion : the youth at the wicket had struck 
 the ball to an amazing height ; it soars 
 aloft, the eyes of the spectators follow it. 
 An other youth with the figure of Apollo 
 flies to meet it, he catches it, flings the 
 ball confidently into the air, and catches 
 it a second time. " Firnos for ever," 
 cried the admiring crowd. The ladies, 
 who, under the shade of some chesnut- 
 trees, beheld the game, came out to con- 
 gratulate the Prince. The huzzas of his 
 party announce their triumph. He is 
 agreeably surprised at receiving the com- 
 pliments of the Countess of Raldabar. 
 De Grey is presented to him ; at the word 
 Englishman he seizes his hand wnth rap- 
 ture, llie pleasing idea, that his mother 
 is returned, occurs to him ; but, alas! the 
 stranger can only offer his assistance to 
 discover her. 
 
 De Grey was rather charmed with the 
 
liGOK n. 
 
 polite and engaging manners of the Prince 
 than struck with the beauty of his person, 
 for the imperial family was one of the 
 handsomest m the empire ; and he ex- 
 pected and found in him a proper model 
 for an Adonis, or young Alcibiades. 
 Though surrounded by a number of youths 
 of his own age, the hope of Malabar stood 
 unrivalled. Adorned with every grace of 
 form and countenance, he resembled the 
 portrait of the Emperor, drawn before 
 his accession to the throne of his fore- 
 uncles. His eye was Hvely, exercise had 
 improved the color of health, and the 
 gentle zephyr, which cooled his animated 
 cheek, played in his auburn hair. 
 
 A rural feast had been prepared for the 
 cricketers in a tent ; the female scholars 
 joined them, and partook of the entertain- 
 ment. The Prince placed himself between 
 Det^rey and his fair companion. 
 
 Firnos and the Countess's old pre- 
 ceptor (for the Countess herself had 
 been educated at Romaran) supped with 
 
 ^ 
 
126 
 
 BOOK rr, 
 
 them at the inn. Tlie purpose of De 
 Grey's voyage to England was discussed ; 
 the Prince took his hand^ squeezed it to 
 his breast^ and thanked him more with 
 looks than words for his good intentions 
 toward his mother. 
 
 De Grey began a conversation with the 
 preceptor, who described the system of 
 education at Romaran. Both sexes, he 
 was informed, were instructed during se- 
 veral hours in most branches of literature 
 together, ranked into different classes 
 according to their abilities. They then 
 separated ; the youths applied to their 
 bodily exercises, and the girls to the 
 study of domestic economy. 
 De Grey, 
 
 I doubt not that the association of the 
 two sexes is advantageous to their literary 
 improvement : no spur can be wanting to 
 the exertions of a youth, when the reward 
 of his merit is conferred in the presence 
 of his beloved. But I should tremble for 
 the health of a boy educated at a girl's 
 
BOOK If. 12/; 
 
 school, nor can a white girdle be a strong 
 barrier against the attacks of any of the 
 young cricketers whom we saw this after- 
 noon. 
 
 Preceptor, 
 Hush ! speak not so loud, or we shall 
 have the whole school like a hornet's nest 
 about our ears. The very idea would 
 raise a general indignation : you forget 
 that a white girdle is sacred, and that a 
 mature youth who should violate it, 
 would be declared infamous, and expelled 
 from the society of his comrades. Over 
 the younger classes the governors keep a 
 watchful eye; and should the hour of 
 their emancipation be now and then anti- 
 cipated, I assure you, it happens very 
 seldom ; and even then, not so often at a 
 public school, as among children edu- 
 cated at home. A public school is a little 
 republic : a child is conscious that the 
 eyes of the whole college are upon him : 
 he may break windows, he may make a 
 tumult in the street, he mav be some 
 
128 BOOK II. 
 
 miles distant from the bounds of duty^ he 
 may prefer a play-house to a school-room, 
 a race-course to a lecture ; but where his 
 honor is concerned, he will not be defi- 
 cient ; he will act with the dignity of a 
 public character. But allow me to ask 
 you, if, in your country, the sexes are 
 educated separately, what are the con- 
 sequences ?" 
 
 De Grey waved the question ; he was 
 unwilling to expose the low amours and 
 vulgar debaucheries of a European aca- 
 demy, where, separated from all women 
 of rank, education and delicacy, the young 
 student rushes into the arms of some cour- 
 tesan. Nor was he sufficiently convinced 
 of the truth of the many accusations 
 brought against the boarding-schools and 
 convents of the other sex. He remained 
 silent; the Preceptor continued. 
 
 '' For my part, I bless the moment 
 vrhen my mother first placed me at this 
 school: I Vv'as a child of eight years, 1 
 soon became acquainted with a little girl 
 
BOOK IT. 129 
 
 of my own age. We played together ever\'^ 
 children's game : in tlie school hours we 
 studied on the same bench : inseparable, 
 we both approached the age of maturity. 
 On the day of emancipation, we hand in 
 hand walked toward the image of Samora. 
 With what pride I received the sword 
 from the hands of the Samorina; but my 
 heart beat with double pleasure, when I 
 saw the Emperor unloose the white girdle 
 of my companion, and gird her with the 
 green ribbon. The tumult, that passed 
 within me, escaped not the Samorin's pe- 
 netration ; and he said with a smile to my 
 beloved, " Take care that your friend lose 
 not his sword, for all his attention is di- 
 rected to your girdle." O the impatience 
 of no bridegroon could equal mine on 
 that day, — of no bridegroom in Persia or 
 Arabia, though he be not suffered to see 
 the face of his bride till the irrevocable 
 ceremony be passed. With him curio- 
 sity is mistaken for love ; but love, pure 
 genial love warmed my heart, warmeA 
 
 G 5 
 
130 BOOK li. 
 
 both our hearts^ and for forty years it has 
 glowed with unabated fire^ the pleasure 
 and comfort of our lives." 
 De Grey. 
 
 Forty years ! what unexampled fidelity, 
 and in a country where variety is al- 
 lowed ! 
 
 Preceptor, 
 
 Constancy would have been a more 
 proper word. Fidelity is only shown 
 when one acts in obedience to one's duty, 
 contrary to one's inclination. The word 
 fidelity should never be used in matters of 
 love ; love is an exhalation of the soul ; 
 should one wish to impose any duties on 
 it, like the shade of .Creusa, it would slip 
 through one's arms and vanish into air. 
 But think not^ because in this country 
 we change when we please, that we are 
 less constant in our affections than other 
 nations. Strike out from the list cf con- 
 stant couples in your country, or any 
 other country, where marriage is tole- 
 rated, all those who are constant from 
 
BOOK IT. 131 
 
 hypocrisy, avarice, fear of shame or 
 death, ignorance (for there are countries 
 where the wife never saw the face of any 
 other man than of her husband) from 
 superstition, and so forth ; and count the 
 remaining couples, who are constant from 
 inchnation, and you will find that the 
 number of constant couples in Calicut will 
 exceed their number in any city on the 
 globe. This may be easily believed ; 
 each has every opportunity of learning the 
 character of the other : this also is an ad- 
 vantage of our system of education. The 
 pleasing recollection of every little event, 
 that occurred in their days of innocence 
 and childhood, lends to their merits an 
 additional charm, and joins the two school- 
 fellows till death." 
 
 The Preceptor then described a feast, 
 which, unluckily for De Grey, would not 
 take place till after his embarkation. On 
 the anniversary of the college all persons 
 of all ranks and of both sexes, educated at 
 Romaran, dined together at one of the 
 
132 KOOK II. 
 
 first taverns at Calicut. This, in the 
 opinion of the worth r Preceptor, was the 
 merriest day in the year, when he drove 
 to town in his one-horse-chaise his old 
 school-fellow, now a respectable grand- 
 mother, but still amiable in his eyes, as 
 when she received the green girdle from 
 the Samorin. Which anecdote he never 
 lets slip an opportunity to relate, and 
 Vvhich he repeats at every anniversary, as 
 well as the memorable history of his own 
 heroism, in supporting a punishment 
 instead of his beloved, who had stuck 
 some pins in the cushion of their writing- 
 master. 
 
 The next morning was employed in 
 looking at the college, in examining the 
 different schools and halls, and in visiting 
 the play-ground. 
 
 In the upper school Firnos showed to 
 De Grey the name Agalva Rofina, which 
 his unfortunate mother had cut in the 
 oaken wall. Underneath her friends and 
 school-fellows the Baron of Naldor and 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 133 ^ 
 
 the Prince of Cambaya had cut their own. 
 The daughter of Rofa excelled in every 
 thing. Whatever is worth doing, is worth 
 doinff well. Even her name was more 
 elegantly carved than those of her com- 
 panions. 
 
 When the Countess's carriage came to 
 the door, the Prince's chaise followed it. 
 " I will not bid you farewell," said Firnos 
 to De Grey, " I shall accompany you to 
 Calicut." 
 
 The following morning the Samorina 
 informed De Grey that Firnos was re- 
 solved to embark with him for England. 
 Every argument had been urged in vain 
 to dissuade the only heir of the empire 
 from so dangerous a voyage ; she there- 
 fore recommended him again and again 
 to his care. 
 
 The parting of Firnos and De Grey 
 from the imperial family was solemn and 
 affecting. A tear stole down the furrowed 
 cheek of the Samorina ; she had lost so 
 many children, she despaired of recover- 
 
134 BOOK II. 
 
 iiig Agalva ! her heart misgave her that 
 she should never see her grandson again. 
 He was her only remaining hope — she 
 pressed him to her breast. 
 
 " Return^" said the Samorin to De 
 Grey, ^^ return with your sister and my 
 
 own, and my gratitude" he stopped 
 
 short, as if from deHcacy — '^ Return with 
 Emma and Agalva!" continued he, and 
 gave him his hand. 
 
 " With Agalva and Emma ?" answered 
 De Grey, and squeezed his hand. 
 
 The Countess accompanied them to the 
 Port, followed their ship with her eyes, 
 and waved her handkerchief as it sailed 
 out of the harbor. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 De Grey's higtorj— some abuses induce him to 
 abjure matrimony— -kills the seducer of his sister 
 
 Emma— -flies his country—Emma turns nui; 
 
 her sufferings in a convent— He and his sister 
 taken by a pirate — conducted to Morocco, and 
 separated—He is sold as a slave— recovers his 
 liberty— His travels to discover his sister in Africa 
 and Asia— his arrival at the court of the Samorin, 
 with which the work began. 
 
BOOK IIL 
 
 1' iRNOs had something so soothing in his 
 disposition, so prepossessing in his look, 
 so engaging in his manners, that he was 
 soon the favorite of the whole ship. De 
 Grey loved him as a brother. They 
 talked away whole hours on the different 
 plans to discover the unfortunate Princess. 
 The feeling terms, in which the son ex- 
 pressed his sense of the greatness of the 
 loss, rendered him every day dearer to 
 his fellow-traveller. De Grey described to 
 him the customs and manners of Europe, 
 the duties of a husband and wife, and of 
 a father and child ; the European ideas 
 on love and marriage, on chastity and 
 fidelity; but after disputing on these 
 
138 BOOK in. 
 
 points for hours together, the Prince gene- 
 rally broke off the conversation by askings 
 with impatience, '^ Is she not so free as 
 he ? how can he know that he is the 
 man-mother ?" (the word ' father ' is not 
 in the Nair language.) '' How can 
 chastity be a virtue ? Suppose all man- 
 kind were chaste ; if so, virtue would be 
 more destructive than famine, fire and 
 sword, and would extirpate the whole hu- 
 man species from the face of the earth ?" 
 
 Some months passed in these conversa- 
 tions. De Grey wished not to convert 
 the Prince to the opinions of Europe ; he 
 was too convinced of their inconsistency ; 
 he only wished to persuade him of the 
 necessity of a foreigner's not infringing 
 these prejudices : but Firnos always ex- 
 postulated — " Suppose a woman likes me, 
 and I like her, what concern is that to 
 any one else ?" 
 
 The ship was within a few days sail of 
 England. Firnos turned suddenly to De 
 Grey : " You," said he^ " are less ridi- 
 
BOOK III. 131) 
 
 culous than your country nun, and have 
 :i pretty bister, will you recommend mm 
 to her ?" 
 
 " I liad a sistrr," answered Dt Cirey, 
 with a sigh; ''a bister, whose amiable 
 rharacter, whose many accomphshments, 
 the charms of whose person would have 
 merited your love. 1 had a sister; — you 
 v\ill not hear her fate with dry eyes. O 
 tiiat I could relate it with an unwounded 
 conscience! My dear Firnos, as I shall 
 soon introduce you to my family, it may 
 not be improper to instruct you in the 
 leading circumstances of my life. 
 
 *' I shall not mention the noblesse of 
 my fauiiiy, I already perceive a smile on 
 your lips. 'Hie assertion ever on your 
 tongue, that no one knows his father, 
 would embarrass all the heralds in Eu- 
 rope ; else I could assure you that the 
 Dc Greys were already knights seven 
 centuries ago. I could repeat the names 
 of bishops, archbishops, cardinals, mi- 
 nisters, chaiD|)ions, templars, and cru 
 
140 BOOK iir. 
 
 saders of our family ; but as you cannot 
 doubt the relation between a mother and 
 her son, it may not lessen your respect 
 for our name, to hear that the mother of 
 William the Conqueror was Harlotta de 
 Grey. 
 
 " My mother was left in her best years 
 a widow with three children, a girl and 
 two boys, of whom I was the eldest. 
 Perhaps you will not allow her merit in 
 rejecting every proposal of love or marri- 
 age ; you may think that she might have 
 fulfilled the duties of a mother without 
 declining those of a citizen to augmerft 
 the population of her country. But she 
 acted according to the dictates of her 
 conscience. If she erred, her error w^as 
 meritorious. To the 'cares of this virtu- 
 ous parent I am indebted for the benefit 
 of a superior education, and for many libe- 
 ral accomplishments too often neglected. 
 She inspired me with a dignity, perhaps 
 enthusiasm of sentiment, which might 
 have become honorable to myself,, and 
 
 i 
 
BOOK UI. 141 
 
 useful to my country ; but, alas I an un- 
 lucky event blasted the buds of my hope, 
 and banished me a wretched outlaw on 
 the face of the world. 
 
 '^ I was educated at one of our public 
 schools. Having finished my studies at 
 the university, I applied myself to the 
 law : no profession in our country is so 
 honorable and offers so many eminent re- 
 wards. One of my uncles was high chan- 
 cellor of England — what a spur to my 
 young ambition !^ — what a brilliant career 
 his influence offered me! I fondly aspired, 
 at some future period, to succeed to his 
 dignity. My mother flattered these hopes, 
 which sweetened my perseverance and 
 industry at a tedious study. 
 
 ' I was the Chancellor's favorite, and re- 
 ceived frequent invitations to his country- 
 seat. One day I was walking in the plea- 
 sure-ground ; I heard a whispering and 
 tittering. My aunt, who pretended to 
 taste and sentiment, had fitted up a lit- 
 tle hermitage, and furnished it with pas- 
 
142 BOOK in. 
 
 sages from some of our moral writers. I 
 approached, and, peeping through the 
 door, discovered my lady-chancellor in 
 the arms of my lord's chaplain ! A Nair 
 cannot conceive my disgust at the sight ! 
 To you it would be indifferent, whe- 
 ther one of your aunts bestowed her 
 favors on a peasant or a prince ; but I 
 shuddered at the idea, that a plebeian, 
 the son of my uncle's own gardener, should 
 dishonor one of the first families in Eng- 
 land. My worthy uncle had, at the ex- 
 pense of his health and every enjoyment, 
 toiled for the acquisition of wealth and 
 honors. The dignity of the peerage had 
 been conferred on his public exertions. 
 Alas ! a spurious brood might succeed to 
 the rewards of his activity. I fell into a 
 kind of despondency ; I neglected my 
 studies. I could not longer look with 
 pleasure on a family-picture ; I considered 
 every husband a dupe, every son an in- 
 truder into the family of his supposed 
 father. Before, I used to regard my 
 
BOOK Til. 143 
 
 I pedigree with such complacency. I had 
 burned to raise myself also to the peerage; 
 
 , to espouse a woman^ whose name was 
 worthy of my own ; to become the 
 father of a young De Grey, who might 
 inherit the titles that I already grasped* 
 All at once the illusion vanished ; I de- 
 termined never to marry ; and why labor 
 for honors that must die with me ? 
 
 " 1 could not longer bear the sight of 
 my aunt. I took leave of my uncle, and 
 returned home. My mother was desirous 
 that I should marry, and recommended 
 me to pay my addresses to a neighboring 
 heiress. She was mortified at hearing my 
 determined aversion to marriage. At 
 length I disclosed to her the Chancellor's 
 disgrace, ' My dear Walter,' said she, 
 ' let not the misconduct of a single demi- 
 rep destroy your belief in female virtue ; 
 for instance, your other uncle has es- 
 poused a woman who is allowed by every 
 one to be virtue itself. Scandal has not 
 dared to whispar the name of any lover. 
 
144 BOOK III. 
 
 Their marriage took place under the most, 
 favorable auspices. He has repeatedly- 
 invited you ; and if happiness be not- 
 found in their union, look for it no 
 where.' 
 
 '^ Her intreaties persuaded me to pas& 
 a few weeks at their country-seat also. I 
 never saw such harmony in any couple. 
 My uncle and aunt seemed to agree upon 
 every point, or if they ever differed, theii 
 only contest was, which should give way 
 to the other. He was as elegant in his 
 manners, as she was amiable in hers ; and 
 the ten years that they lived together had 
 augmented their confidence, without di- 
 minishing their tenderness. He received 
 me with open arms, and this alone would 
 have assured me a good reception from 
 her. Though I had not seen him for 
 many years, I ceased to be a stranger in 
 the house the moment I entered it. 
 Though I came but for a few weeks, their 
 united invitation induced me to prolong 
 my stay. I was happy in beholding 
 
BOOK III. 143 
 
 their happiness — I was perfectly recon- 
 ciled to marriage. 
 
 " The understanding of my aunt was cul- 
 tivated, and her conversation interesting. 
 I used to pass hours together alone in her 
 company, and she continued to give me 
 every mark of her esteem. When one 
 morning I found her bathed in tears ; I 
 asked her in vain to confide to me the 
 cause. From that moment her conduct 
 toward ^me changed ; she always found 
 some excuse to deny me admission into 
 her apartment. She answered my most 
 indifferent questions with such peevish- 
 ness ; she, who ^vas civil to every one, 
 was almost rude to me alone. I could not 
 account for her behavior. I determined 
 to quit the house. 
 
 '' I announced my intention to my 
 uncle. He insisted that I should defer 
 my departure till after his wife's birth- 
 day ; for he never failed to invite many of 
 her relatives and friends to celebrate this 
 f^te. 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 BOOK III. 
 
 '^' On the morning, the house was 
 crowded with company. He told me 
 that he had something to communicate to 
 me, and we retired into a cabinet ad- 
 joining his wife's apartment. 
 
 " ' You will allow,' said he, Uhat I 
 am the happiest of husbands. My wife 
 loves me as if we were married yesterday ; 
 and how can I sufficiently reward her 
 merit; I am determined to double her 
 jointure. God knows when I may be 
 snatched out of her arms. I have brought 
 you here to witness the deed. What day 
 can be more proper than that which gave 
 her birth ? Let other husbands make their 
 v/ives presents to reap their thanks. I 
 will keep this secret : when I am not more, 
 she shall find how constantly she was in 
 my thoughts,' 
 
 ^^ We were perusing the deed, when 
 we heard two voices in my aunt's apart- 
 ment. Her mother had arrived for the 
 fete ; her daughter cast herself into her 
 arms ; w^ distinguished their sobs ; we 
 
BOOK III. 14;' 
 
 could not retire unseen ; we were obliged 
 to overhear their discourse. 
 
 " ' My daughter/ said the old lady, 
 ' your woman has informed me that you 
 pass hours together in tears. Are you 
 unhappy ? Where^ but in the bosom of 
 a mother, can you confide your griefs ? 
 Your sister Louisa has married a drun- 
 kard; poor Lucy was sacrificed to a game- 
 ster. I fear they are miserable. But 
 you, who gave your hand, and, I believed, 
 your heart, to a worthy man, who is full 
 of esteem and attentions to you, who only 
 lives and breathes to contribute to your 
 happiness, what cause can you have to 
 complain ?' 
 
 '• But, my dear Firnos," continued De 
 Grey, " I cannot express their conversa- 
 tion, which was interrupted by the sobs 
 of *the daughter. We could only hear 
 them at intervals. She allowed the 
 merits of her husband ; but his verj' 
 merits, she said, aggravated her guilt. 
 Such a husband deserved im)re than a 
 H 2 
 
148 BOOK in. 
 
 heart debased by shame, and distracted 
 by repentance^ perpetually wavering be- 
 tween reproaches and desires, equally in- 
 capable of satisfying love or virtue. ' But, 
 my mother/ continued she, ' his conduct 
 is unchanged, nor shall mine change to- 
 ward him. My heart alone is changed ; 
 but he shall not perceive it. When the 
 image of the other rises in my thought, I 
 do penance for my involuntary crime by 
 redoubling my attentions toward my 
 husband ; I load him with caresses when- 
 ever I fancy myself not indifferent to his 
 rival ; and when I give up my last breath, 
 no one shall know what malady ended 
 my days.' 
 
 ^' Every one of her words was a dagger 
 in her husband's heart. Her mother pres- 
 sed her to reveal who had caused this re- 
 volution in her sentiments. She fell at 
 her feet. * O let me hide my blushes in 
 your lap,' cried she ; ' O that my eyes 
 may never behold him again ; that I may 
 never hearjiis name pronounced ; that his 
 
BOOK III. 149 
 
 remembrance would cease to agitate me ; 
 that I coukl tear his image out of my 
 heart, — but it only takes deeper root, the 
 more I strive to elTace it. He is inno- 
 cent — he cannot suspect that he has 
 destroyed a tie, the most pure, the most 
 sacred, that ever united two hearts.' 
 
 " ^ But who is it ?' cried her mother. 
 
 *^ After some hesitation she confessed 
 that I was the unsuspecting cause of her 
 error. 
 
 " Her husband, who had been long 
 ready to faint, and whom I was support- 
 ing, started from my arms as from a ser- 
 pent. 
 
 " I however had the presence of mind 
 to retain him. He sat down despondently 
 on a chair, and remained silent. Soon 
 after a carriage, which brought some 
 guests, rolled up to the door : my aunt 
 dried her eyes, and hastened to do the 
 lionors of the house ; my uncle and my- 
 self retired undiscovered from our co-n- 
 cealment. 
 
150 BOOK III. 
 
 '• You may conceive with what a me- 
 lancholy air he solemnised a day usually 
 the happiest in his year. The next 
 morning he pret funded some affairs in 
 London : he departed without taking 
 leave of her. *' Shall I clasp her in my 
 arms/' said he^ ^' while her heart belongs 
 to an other ?" 
 
 " I accompanied him, though I feared 
 my sight was odious to him ; 1 was afraid 
 to leave him, as he v^^s often in a state 
 approaching madness. He soon after had 
 himself appointed Governor of a West- 
 Indian island. He had the delicacy to 
 leave England without discovering to his 
 wife that he was master of her secret, 
 and the generosity to make the proposed 
 addition to her jointure. 
 
 ^' I am the cause of her misery," said he, 
 **^ the merit of her innocence fs her own." 
 
 " But I hope," said the Prince of Ca- 
 licut, interrupting De Grey, " that your 
 uncle engaged you to console lier during 
 his absence." 
 
liOOK III. 151 
 
 '^A Nair/' answered De Grey, " would 
 Iiave only done his duty in doing so, but 
 it would be unjust to have expected such 
 a sacrifice from a European. Beside, had 
 1 been in love with her, I should never 
 have had the courage to have avowed it 
 even to myself ; she was my aunt. But 
 let m,e continue my history. 
 
 '^ The fate of this couple increased my 
 aversion to marriage. This had been a 
 love-match ; and if a union, where both 
 were amiable, both were sensible, both 
 were virtuous, turned cut so unhappily; 
 what could have been expected from a 
 union, where neither might have pos- 
 sessed all, if any^ of these qualities ? Mar- 
 riage had rendered one of my aunts 
 criminal, the other miserable. I neither 
 desired to be the dupe, nor the tyrant of a 
 woman. I renewed my vows of celibacy. 
 
 '' But, my dear Prince, how pre- 
 sumptuous are vows of every kind in ii 
 creature so changeable as man : to vow 
 never to rnarrv is as absurd as to promise 
 
152 BOOK III. 
 
 at the altar to love for ever. The charais 
 of a girl of seventeen triumphed over my 
 system of indiflerence ; when her father, 
 upon the day fixed for signing the mar- 
 riage settlements, pointed to a portrait, 
 ^' You know the original r" said he, 
 
 '* No," answered I, '^ that lady cannot 
 be of the family : I know all the family 
 portraits." ^^ You are wrong," said he, 
 *' she was a near relative, though her 
 portrait has been for some years con- 
 demned to the cobwebs of a garret. She 
 was my mother. My father was scarcely 
 of age when he espoused her, in her six- 
 teeth year ; tliey were the most loving 
 couple in the county. My old nurse has 
 often told me how she wept, when my 
 father quitted her, were it only for a few 
 days shooting ; how inconsolable she was 
 when his parliamentary duties required a 
 short absence. At length a whim engaged 
 him to enter the army ; my mother in 
 vain dissuaded him : his regiment was 
 unexpectedly ordered to the West Indies. 
 
BOOK iir. . 153 
 
 Her pregnancy hindered her from accom- 
 panying him : her heart ahnost broke at 
 their separation ; but time is a universal 
 remedy ; it cured her grief. A lover pre- 
 sented himself ; in short, you understand' 
 me, she was no Penelope. A trial for 
 adultery ensued ; her honor was blasted. 
 She died a wretched outcast, the victim of 
 despair, without a comfort in this world,' 
 without a gleam of hope beyond it. Such 
 was the eiid of my mother. I have re- 
 stored to her portrait its ancient place ; 
 aiid be not surprised,*' said he, producing 
 a pnper^ " that I wish to secure my. 
 daughter from a similar fate : her future 
 husband must sign a promise, that he will 
 ne<*er enter the army or navy without her 
 permii:sion. 
 
 " The proposal I am willing now to 
 allow was reasonable ; but at that time I 
 considered it the most unnatural infringe- 
 ment on the superiority of my sex. I 
 refused in the most haughty tone, and 
 H 5 
 
154 toOK lit. 
 
 without allowing myself a sigh, broke off 
 the match. 
 
 " It was the only time that I ever was 
 on the brink of marriage. The remark 
 of a celebrated philosopher, that the 
 plurality of great characters have been 
 bachelors, revived my resolution of re- 
 maining single. The next year however 
 tny mother had the satisfaction of seeing 
 my younger brother married to the 
 heiress whom she had proposed to me. 
 
 " I now applied to the study of the 
 law with greater assiduity than ever. I 
 was called to the bar, and elected to re- 
 present our county in parliament : in 
 short I possessed every thing that could 
 promise me a brilliant career, — birth, con- 
 nections, interest, application, and perhaps 
 talents, when an unhappy affair overcast 
 my bright prospects and blasted my hopes 
 in the bud. 
 
 " I had a sister ; her beauty was the 
 ornament of the neighborhood, and her 
 
BOOK III. 155 
 
 accomplishments equalled her beauty ; 
 she was the best o-irj. O ujy tViencI, 
 could I vvi^h you a blessnig from heaven, 
 I would wish you such a sister, and yet 
 this sister — Oh, she is not more. 
 
 *^ It was natural that such excellence 
 should attract many adniirers. The ma- 
 jor of a regiment quartered at a neii^hbor- 
 ing town paid frequent visits at our 
 country-scat : he poi^sessed every quality 
 that could recommend a husband ; his 
 figure pleased vvherever he appeared, and 
 a vainer girl than poor Emma would have 
 accepted him, were it only to enjoy the 
 envy of her companions. I already con- 
 sidered them as man and wife, though 
 my sister assured me that a formal decla- 
 ration had never passed his lips. Un- 
 luckily I disbeheved this assertion, which 
 I attributed to the false delicacy of my 
 countrywomen. I gave them every oji- 
 portunity of being alone together ; I was 
 happy in tlie friendship of a njan, whose 
 amiable character endeared him to everv 
 
156 BOOK III, 
 
 one. My sister could scarcely be more 
 desirous of the match than myself. All 
 at once his character seemed changed ; 
 his temper, before so lively and amusing, 
 gave way to a settled melancholy. He 
 sat at table with his eyes fixed on his 
 plate : if we rallied him on his silence, he 
 forced his lips into a smile, though the 
 gloom remained on his brow. He w^ould 
 absent himself fro-m the house for days 
 together ; when he came, he would look 
 at my sister, and sigh without speaking 
 to her a word ; or address her in a stifled 
 voice, and then huiTy into the garden to 
 conceal his emotion. Something preyed* 
 on his spirits ; he strove to fly fi*om his 
 own thoughts. Innocent at that time 
 myself, I knew not the symptoms of a 
 troubled conscience. My sister also grew 
 Tow-spirited and dejected : I saw that 
 something was going on wrong. I in- 
 quired in vain the cause of her grief, I 
 received no answer ; my poor mother 
 feared the wQrst. 
 
IJOOK III. 157 
 
 '^ The next day I j^avv the Major enter 
 the plantation round our house ; I followed 
 him ; I found him sitting on the side of a 
 brook. I approached him unperceived : 
 he turned his head, a tear stood in his 
 eye ; all my anger vanished at the sight. 
 He denied not the accusation ; I offered 
 him my hand ; 1 desired him to repair his 
 fault by marrying my sister. *' I ana 
 married already, J am a villain/' said he, 
 and beat his forehead in despair. " Vil- 
 lain, indeed," cried I, '* thou hast vio- 
 lated every tie of hospitality and friend- 
 shij). O that I am without arms !" '• Here 
 are arms," said he, with a mild voice, 
 that ought to have awaked my pity. He 
 drew a brace of pistols out of his pockets. 
 We were without seconds ; each took the 
 end of a handkerchief: we both fired at 
 the same moment ; he lay at my feet 
 weltering in ^lis blood. 
 
 *^ 1 stood motionless over his body with- 
 out recollecting to assist him; he opened 
 his eyes '' You are safe," said he, '' you 
 
158 BOOK III. 
 
 need not fly ; say that you found ine so, 
 that I am a suicide. Pardon me, Emma ; 
 pardon me, De Grey ;" the sounds died 
 upon his hps. He would have raised his 
 hand in token of reconcihation ; his 
 streno:th failed, it fell without force at his 
 side. He expired, and with him my 
 peace of mind wa=i t^one for ever. 
 
 '• O Firnos^ what must you think of a 
 Xnan who could murd^^r ?? fellow-creature 
 merely for loving his sister. 1 have suf- 
 fered enough for my crime, though more 
 the crime of my country than my own. 
 Every European of honor would have 
 acted as I did ; how often must I recall 
 this to my memory, and yet I relapse into 
 my former melancholy : I fly solitude in 
 vain. In the gayest circles the last words 
 of my dying friend sound in my ears* 
 In my dreams I see him bathed ia his 
 blood ; and this while fortune smiled on 
 me ; but during her frowns, in my long 
 servitude, judge how intolerable were my 
 feelings. But this is not all ; O my poor 
 
BOOK III. 15[) 
 
 Emma, I have been the cause of all thy 
 sufferings. 
 
 I was still in a state of stupor ; a shriek 
 was heard. Emma, with her hair in con- 
 fusion and a wildness in her look, brushed 
 through the shi'ubs. " You arrived too 
 late to save him ?'' cried she, and flung 
 herself over the body : she covered it with 
 kisses, and vainly tried to stop the blood. 
 *' Save him," cried I, " I am his mur- 
 derer." The servants, who had followed 
 her, separated her from the corpse, and 
 bore her back forcibly to the house. In- 
 deed, Prince, it is too true^ what you 
 have so often said ; all our misery in 
 Europe must proceed from marriage, or 
 our ideas on love. But for these my 
 friend and my sister might have been 
 happy, and I no murderer, no out-law-^ 
 but hear his history. 
 
 " He, almost a boy, before his judg- 
 ment was formed, without any knowledge 
 of the world, fell in love with a foolish 
 girl, unworthy of him in so many res- 
 
ibo uooK in. 
 
 pects that his family would never consent 
 to the match. I have seen her, and can- 
 not conceive how it was possible to be 
 captivated by so insignificant a creature ; 
 but love is blind : he married, but as he 
 depended on his uncle, they were obhged 
 to conceal their marriage. Meanwhile 
 his wife had accepted his hand, not out 
 of love but vanity. He was heir-appa- 
 rent to his uncle, a peer of the realm : 
 and her whole thoughts were engrossed 
 with the prospect of marching in the pro- 
 cession at the next coronation. When at 
 a ball she had a dispute with an other 
 girl about precedence : in the heat of her 
 anger she said, " tliat a time would come, 
 when the other miss would consider her- 
 self honored to dance in the same row 
 with her/' The other was her rival, and 
 hore her a grudge from their very school 
 days : she suspected, and, by bribing her 
 maid, discovered the secret. Determined 
 on revenge, with the cunning and malice 
 of a devil^ she contrived to attractthe old 
 
IJOOK III. 11)1 
 
 peers notioo. She discovered his weak 
 side ; she admired ail his good quahties ; 
 he was flattered by the attentions of a girl 
 young enough to be his grand-daughter ; 
 he married her. Her children will succeed 
 to the peerage. The disappointment 
 turned the brain of the Major's wife^ and 
 she was confined in a private mad-house. 
 The Peer, having discovered their mar- 
 riage, ordered his nephew, w ho dej)ended 
 on his protection, to conceal it ; he ar- 
 rived in our neighborhood, and we all 
 considered him a single man." 
 
 '^ What a fatal institution," cried Fir- 
 nos, *' your marriage must be. Two 
 men marry through weakness ; and of 
 their two wives one marries through va- 
 nity, and the other through spite." De 
 Grey continued. 
 
 '' I'he Major saw Emma : each was 
 charmed with the conversation of the 
 other. Love stole into the hearts of both 
 under the mask of friendship. I opened 
 the eves of mv sister on her sentiments ; 
 
l62 BOCK III. 
 
 I congratulated her ou her conquest ; 
 encouraged her hopes of possessing a man 
 so amiable. He perceived the situation 
 of his hearty and trembled : he saw th( 
 impossibility of marrying my sister." 
 
 " Impossibility!" cried Firnos ; '•' howl 
 so ? could he not be divorced from a mad 
 woman ?" " 
 
 *^ In Prussia, he might," answered De 
 Grey ; ^* but not in England^ the land of 
 liberty; where two persons are authorised 
 bylaw to render each other miserable;, 
 where divorces are granted to those who 
 are hardy enough to violate thefr vows, 
 but are refused as a relief to those who 
 have the patience to submit ; where a fe- 
 male must commit a crime in order to 
 recover her liberty ; and where, if a giddy 
 youth, after having taken a foolish step, 
 is restored to his senses, he forfeits the 
 advantages of his convalescence. But to 
 proceed. The Major determined to avoid 
 my sister, to absent himself from the 
 house, and had the self-command not to 
 
BOOK III. 163 
 
 see her for days together, lie was an 
 honesty but he was a weak man. He al- 
 ways returned^ though his conscience 
 reproached him with his relapse^ and 
 occasioned the melancholy which so long 
 distressed us. He might' have conquered 
 his passion ; but 1 fatally betrayed him 
 into a danger which he could not resist. 
 I had gained my election, and gave a ball 
 to my electors at the next market-town. 
 My sister had done the honors, and 
 wished to return home : my presetice was 
 still necessary to push about the bottle 
 among the country squires. I obliged 
 the Major to accompany her home; he 
 made many excuses, which one would 
 not expect from a lover ; but this struck 
 me not at the moment. 
 
 '^ Every thing conspired against the 
 Major's virtue : perhaps his virtue sided 
 against itself. Though remarkable for 
 his sobriety before, he had lately indulged 
 in liquor, probably to drown his unhapj)y 
 passion ; and this night also be had taken 
 
164 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 a glass too much. In short, he forgot hiij 
 resolutions ; she her honor. 
 
 '' The day before our traoical ren- 
 contre she wrote to him; exposing her 
 critical situation, and conjuring him t( 
 do justice by marriage to the pledge of 
 love, which would soon expose her shame* 
 Ilis answer was affecting; he painted 
 the horrors of his situation, and begged 
 her forgiveness ; accused himself as 
 wretch unworthy of her presence, and 
 declared his intention to seek an asylum 
 in a distant country. The language waS' 
 dark and mysterious; but having reco- 
 vered from a swoon, she saw through the 
 veil of mystery that his intention v»'as to 
 put a period to his existence. All her 
 wrongs were forgot ; all her tenderness 
 revived at his danger. She flew to his 
 assistance; but 1 had already proved in 
 the hands of providence an instrument to 
 save him from a crime : his conscience 
 was exonerated from a weight which wa5^ 
 to fall heavy upon mine. That he brooded 
 
BOOK IIL 
 
 l(/5 
 
 over suicide is beyond all doubt; or why 
 take a walk witli pistols in his pocket ? 
 
 " Such was the end of a worthy man. 
 Judge of my feelings, when f, sometime 
 afterward, was informed, that in his will, 
 written the night before I lis death, he had 
 declared my sister and myself the heirs 
 of all in his power to bequeatli. 
 
 " But I had not a moment to lose ; the 
 officers of justice would have seized me. 
 The laws of England are impartial ; 
 though the nephew of the lord high chan- 
 cellor, a murderer was not safe an instant, 
 I placed my poor sister, more dead than 
 alive, in a post-chaise; I was determined 
 to rescue the honor of my family even ^f, 
 the risk of her life. In four-and-twenty 
 hours we embarked at Dover. 
 
 " The harslmess of my behavior nearly 
 killed lier. During the whole way I was 
 too exasperated to speak to her : she had 
 need of comfort, and my looks were re- 
 proaches. At Calais she fell sick, and 
 was delivered of a dead child. But for 
 
11j6 BaoK III. 
 
 my cruelty this child might have become 
 my heir at Calicut. 
 
 *^' Soon as she was well enough to sup- 
 port the journey, I hastened with her to 
 the south of France. I left her at Avi- 
 o'non under the care of a Roman-catholic 
 
 o 
 
 aunt ; for a young woman in Europe i& 
 always in a state of minority. 
 
 '^ Meanwhile I rambled about the 
 continent. Amusement had . ever been 
 with me a secondary consideration: I 
 regretted every moment not conducive to 
 my aggrandisement, but now every hope 
 of success in my own country was cut off. 
 When I had triumphed over every diffi- 
 culty in my profession, when my hand 
 almost grasped th§ rewards of my exer- 
 tions, I was to sink into oblivion ; or with- 
 out connections to withstand the cabak 
 of family influence, begin in a foreign 
 country anew career among strangers jea- 
 lous of any merit in a foreigner. I wan- 
 dered from court to court, from capital to 
 capital; my character was too independent 
 
HOOK III. iGj 
 
 tu submit to military subordination. 'I'he 
 temple of honor was shut against me. 
 Pleasure opened her arms ; hers was the 
 only imperfect asylum left me. Should I 
 ever, in tlie English gazettes, meet the 
 name of some school-fellow, who had dis- 
 tinguished himself as a patriot or as an 
 orator, the idea of my country, from which 
 I was banished for ever, arose in my mind. 
 Though I avoided the temporary suicide 
 of intoxication, 1 ran from boudoir to bou- 
 doir to dissipate my thoughts. 3Iy mor- 
 tifiecl ambition made me only frivolous, 
 and not worse. I usually resided at the 
 court of a German prince, where luckily 
 the refined gallantry of the women had 
 tempered the gross debauchery of the 
 men. 
 
 '• About this time my mother died. 
 I had not the satisfaction of consoling her 
 last moments. But what consolation could 
 she expect from me ? Her life had been 
 exemplary — the best of mothers ! Her 
 wish had been to see her cliikhen happy. 
 
iGS BOOK III. 
 
 — to close her eyes in the bosom of her 
 family. Alas, how disappointed ! I a 
 discontented exile, flying from myself; 
 and my sister infam.ous, an outcast from 
 society. Her death was embittered by 
 our absence. I had flown to the sea- 
 coast of France : every post brought me 
 one, two, three letters with the account of 
 her illness or hopes of her recovery. No- 
 thing but her absolute prohibition hin- 
 dered me from venturing back ; though, 
 at the hazard of my life, I wished to re- 
 ceive her blessing. She died, or our en- 
 suins: misfortunes would have sunk her 
 into the grave. 
 
 '^ The fate of my sister roused me out 
 of my letharg3^ My mother, on her 
 death-bed, had pardoned her, and recom- 
 mended her to my care. The French 
 revolution had broke out ; and as I, on 
 leaving that country, had barbarously for- 
 bidden her to write to me, I was ignorant, 
 on my return to Avignon, of my aunt's 
 death. After some fruitless inquiries I 
 
BOOK III. 16*9 
 
 discovered Emma's asylum. Unhappy 
 girl ! with a broken spirit and ruined re- 
 putation, with so little prospect of comfort 
 on this side of the grave^ the bigoted pa- 
 pists who surrounded her^ painted^ in the 
 most terrible colors^ the torments that 
 awaited her on the other. The pope 
 alone, according to their doctrine^ could 
 grant her absolution ; he was the only 
 anchor of her salvation. She became a 
 proselyte to their religion. The good old 
 aunt died ; her confessor had hoped that 
 she would have bequeathed her wealth to 
 his order : he was disappointed ; she had 
 declared Emma her heir. Resolved that 
 the rich prize should not escape him, he 
 persuaded the credulous niece that the 
 only way to secure her conscience from a 
 relapse was to enter a convent. The 
 following year she took the veil." 
 
 Here De Grey was obliged to give the 
 Prince an idea of monastic institutions. 
 The Prince knew not whether to lament 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
170 BOOK in, 
 
 their cruelty, or atlmire their absurdity 
 the most. 
 
 " But his wish of recommending himself 
 to his superiors was not the only motive 
 of the Abbe's conduct. Love or rather 
 desire was one of the chief springs of his 
 character ; and the convent of the Au- 
 gustines was his seraglio. The Abbess 
 held a despotic sway within the walls ; 
 and he, having been her lover, was be- 
 come her tyrant; he governed every thing 
 in her name. No nun had ever resisted 
 his solicitations, till my sister Emma 
 opposed to his vows and sighs the doc- 
 trines of the church and the duties of 
 her station. He was a fine man, with a 
 sparkling eye and insinuating address, 
 and could assume any character that he 
 chose: he had won already my sister's 
 heart, and had extorted from her the 
 confession that nothing but her religious 
 principles hindered her from yielding to 
 his suit. The intriguing priest was fruit- 
 
BOOK III. 171 
 
 fill in expedients. Would you believe it, 
 he produced a consecrated garter provided 
 with a Latin certificate, declaring that a 
 former pope had conferred it on a Roman 
 lady, and endowed it with the property 
 of absolving the wearer from all sins 
 committed at the time. My sister was 
 not ungrateful to her confessor for so 
 valuable a present : nature and conscience 
 were not longer at variance, the happiness 
 of two lovers was complete. 
 
 " But perfect happiness cannot last ; 
 the Abbess died, and a nun of an unin- 
 viting countenance, perhaps the only one 
 who had never shared the favors of the 
 Abbe, and who hated him mortally on 
 that account, was appointed in her place. 
 An entire revolution took place within 
 the cells. A parcel of young girls, 
 scarcely out of the nursery, were the de- 
 clared favorites of the Domina ; they had 
 the liberty of teazing and playing tricks 
 to the older sisters. It was a game of 
 romps from morning till night. 
 I 2 
 
172 BOOK III. 
 
 *^^ My sister^ Avho had never showed 
 that complaisance to the inchnations of 
 the old nun, which the novices are ex- 
 pected to pay to their superiors in the 
 order, my poor sister was the object of 
 her hatred; and she, since her elevation, 
 never let slip an opportunity to make her 
 feel her resentment. Oh, I cannot enu- 
 merate all the methods that she pur- 
 sued to render her life miserable, methods 
 that could only enter the head, or find 
 approbation in the hardened heart of an 
 abbess. She had discovered in the con- 
 fessionary the circumstances of Emma's 
 seduction in England, and, under the 
 pretext of mortifying the flesh, she sub- 
 mitted her to every hardship and indig- 
 nity : she was obliged to humble herself 
 before the other sisters. She — -the blood 
 of the De Greys flowed in her veins, yet 
 she was obliged to humble herself; my 
 blood boils at the idea. She, fasting her- 
 self, was obliged to wait upon the others 
 at their meals^ to see the favorites of the 
 
BOOK III. 1/3 
 
 jibbess — but let me not be angry with 
 those innocent children, meriting pity 
 rather than indignation : but oh^ the 
 cruelty^ to see them pampered with deh- 
 cacies, and then to retire to a crust of 
 bread moistened with her tears. She was 
 frequently condemned to walk with peas 
 in her stockings, in order to gall her feet, 
 and to pray with arms extended like a 
 cross. If any disgusting work was to be 
 done^ it fell to her ; how often was she 
 ordered to cut and carry wood with shoul- 
 d ers raw from the scourge ; while, to 
 expose her to the contempt of her com- 
 panions, her cell was ornamented with 
 the pictures of three saints, whose extra- 
 vagant piety could not, in the eyes of 
 fanatics, but cast a reflection on my sis- 
 ter's reputation. Here Saint Niceta cut 
 out his tongue, and cast it in the face of 
 a girl, who would solicit his affection : 
 here St. Clerus was canonised, for ha- 
 ving preferred a sacrifice not less painful 
 to a like temptation : and here St. Clelia, 
 
1/4 BOOK III. 
 
 in her twentieth year, defaced her channs 
 to appear not longer amiable in the eyes 
 of a Castile knight, who offered to marry 
 her. 
 
 *^ Once, after having been ordered to 
 prostrate herself before these images, and 
 to pass the night with her head reclining 
 on the cold bricks of her cell, she came 
 in the morning into the warm apartment 
 of the abbess, to kiss her hand, and to 
 thank her for her spiritual care. The 
 sudden transition from cold to heat over- 
 powered her ; she swooned away. The 
 nuns run to her assistance ; they undress 
 her ; her situation is discovered : the 
 Abbe makes his escape. 
 
 ^' Soon as her senses had returned, the 
 bell rung; the nuns assembled in judgment 
 over her ; when she, without betraying 
 any symptoms of fear or guilt, showed 
 her garter and produced the certificate : 
 however criminal her first love, in this 
 instance her conscience was void of of- 
 fence. The abbess, who was ready to 
 
BOOK iir. 175 
 
 pronounce her sentence, could not con- 
 ceal her mortification. The assembly, in 
 deference to the holy father, were about 
 to acquit her. 
 
 " One of the elder nuns arose, showed 
 a like garter, and begged leave to fetcli 
 a like certificate. She hoped the court 
 would do her justice, and have mercy on 
 her ; she had never transgressed her vows, 
 but under the safeguard of her garter ; but 
 if its authenticity should be doubted, she 
 had forfeited her life in this world^ her 
 salvation in the next. 
 
 '^ The two garters are-oompapeci^.the 
 certificates are examined ; the nuns are 
 divided in their opinions, and act with 
 unusual impartiality in so delicate a case. 
 The sovereign pontif seems to rattle in 
 their ears the keys of Saint Peter. Two 
 months pass before they venture to de- 
 cide : the abbess at length discovers her 
 mortal enemy to be my sister s seducer ; 
 and has the art to convince the court, 
 that the old nun s garter is the true gar- 
 
17^ BOOK III. 
 
 ter that Dona Vanotia^ received from 
 Pope Alexander the sixth. Sentence is 
 pronounced on my sister ; she is con- 
 demned to be buried aHve. But the 
 eyes of the nation were enUghtened ; mo- 
 nastic institutions were ah-eady sufficiently 
 detested : the people w^ould never .have 
 suffered such barbarity. The nuns take 
 the holy sacrament, and swear to conceal 
 her fate. 
 
 '^ This happened about the time of mj 
 return to Avignon. I called at the con- 
 vent and inquired after my sister. '1 he 
 matrerh^ seemed disconcerted, and knew 
 not what to answer. At length the abbess 
 appeared at the gate, and assured me that 
 my sister was dead of a putrid fever. 
 There was in her manner an air of good- 
 ness and piety, an elevation above the 
 aifairs of this w^orld, which inspired me 
 with veneration and respect. She spoke 
 
 * See Baron de Thuminel's Trarels in the south 
 of France, written in Gcrm;u]. 
 
BOOK III. 177 
 
 SO favorably of my late sister, repeated all 
 her good qualities, mentioned her as lier 
 chief favorite, called her her dearest friend. 
 " She died," said she, '^ in my arms with 
 such resignation : she is among the saints 
 in heaven, she is rewarded above for all 
 her sufferings here." 
 
 ^^ Could hypocrisy be carried further? 
 I retired, highly affected, to the inn. I 
 considered myself instrumental to her 
 death : I had abandoned her among fo- 
 reigners ; I had left her letters unan- 
 swered ; Heaven only knew what might 
 have been her sufferings. I saw her 
 image struggling with death, with a putrid 
 disease: change of air might have saved 
 her ; but no nun may quit the walls of 
 her convent. All her good qualities oc- 
 curred to me, every incident of our early 
 lives, of our days of innocence and child- 
 hood. The recollection drove me to dis- 
 traction ; it was already midnight ; 1 
 walked backward and forward in my 
 apartment, 1 felt no inclination to repose. 
 I 5 
 
178 BOOK III. 
 
 *^ Suddenly the tocsin sounded, the 
 whole town seemed in uproar. A mob, 
 with torches, hurried through the streets ; 
 they were armed with pikes, pitch-forks, 
 and any instrument of destruction that 
 they could seize in the moment. They 
 vented maledictions. I would have sent 
 my servants to inquire the cause of this 
 tumult, they were all out, I seized my hat, 
 and followed the crowd. 
 
 " Some lisheTmen had drawn up a dead 
 child in their nets, where the river passed 
 the garden of the Augustin nuns. Ap- 
 pearan.ces were against the convent. The 
 sovereign people are expeditious in their 
 execution of justice. Without examining 
 the circumstances, all tlje nuns were con- 
 sidered complicated in the murder: some 
 had already suffered for these suspicions — 
 their heads fixed on pikes, their bodies 
 submitted to every indignity. As I arri- 
 ved, the rope was about the neck of an 
 ancient matron ; judge of my horror, it 
 was the venerable abbess, whom I consi- 
 
BOOK iir. 179 
 
 dered the friend and protectress of my 
 sister, on whose virtue I would have 
 staked my salvation. Having reco- 
 vered from my surprise, I was about to 
 intercede, to expostulate, to try to save 
 her from the fury of the mob, even at the 
 risk of my life — of my life, which had lost 
 all its value. I wished to die in so meri- 
 torious an attempt ; wlien she made a 
 sign that she had something to discover. 
 All was silent ; she confessed havino; had 
 the child cast into the river. The child 
 died for w^ant of proper care : ^' But save 
 save the mother !" cried she. The mur- 
 murs that ensued prevented me from 
 hearing her discourse ; I was carried away 
 by the stream of people. They hurry to 
 the church, the door flies back, the vault 
 is burst. '^ Room, room I" they cry, and 
 an emaciated figure is brought up in the 
 habit of a nun. Few signs of life at first; 
 she is blooded — her bosoLi heaves, her 
 eyes open and close again : by degrees her 
 faculties return ; *' Where am I ?"' says 
 
180 BOOK III. 
 
 she. " She speaks English/' cries a by- 
 stander. I push the crowd aside, I dart 
 toward her — it was my sister Emma. 
 
 " Yet the measure of hei misery was 
 incomplete, she was destined for greater 
 hardships. She soon recovered her health, 
 but her spirits, her cheerfulness were gone. 
 The mother remained disconsolate for the ' 
 loss of her child. In vain the French 
 people applauded her whenever she ap- , 
 peared, as a victim snatched from the 
 fangs of superstition ; in vain the first 
 inhabitants of the place loaded' us with 
 civilities ; in vain the municipality invited 
 us to every civic feast ; all these attentions 
 only awakened her sorrows. Change of 
 scene might restore her peace of mind ; I 
 took her to Nice. 
 
 '^ But would you believe it, her own 
 countrywomen there refused to receive 
 her, on account of her misconduct in 
 England. Some years had passed, but 
 no length of time could expiate her 
 offence in the eyes of a set of prudes^ who 
 
BOOK iir. 181 
 
 perhaps only owed their own scrupulous 
 virtue to their want of charms^ or to their 
 insensibility. Wherever she appeared, 
 the Englishwomen turned their backs on 
 her, and took every opportunity to insult 
 her. It is true, I might have challenged 
 their husbands (and perhaps it may asto- 
 nish you to hear that the women in Eu- 
 rope are in such a state of minority, that 
 their husbands are not only authorised to 
 control their behavior, but are responsible 
 for their impertinence) ; but I was already 
 guilty of one death, nor wished to have 
 any more blood on my conscience. I had 
 lived long enough on the continent, among 
 nations void of English prejudices, to con- 
 sider my sister s slip rather as an indiscre- 
 tion than as a crime ; beside, the interpo- 
 sition of Providence seemed so manifest in 
 her delivery from the grave, that I never 
 could have the heart to reproach her. I 
 renounced the society of our country-peo- 
 ple, and, intending to visit Italy, got par- 
 ticular recommendation to the natives^ 
 
182 BOOK III. 
 
 with whom I resolved to live on a more 
 intimate footing. My sister was to do the 
 honors of my house. We embarked at 
 Nice, and proposed to coast along to 
 Genoa, 
 
 " One day, being a festival of the Ro- 
 man Church, our sailors were all intoxi- 
 cated ; a brisk gale arose and drove us out 
 to sea ; our little boat was at the mercy of 
 the ocean ; we wandered about without 
 any pilot. The senses of our crew had 
 returned, but their skill consisted only in 
 coasting, they were ignorant of the higher 
 branches of navigation. The steerman, 
 however, vowed to the virgin that his 
 daughter should take the veil, if he ever 
 landed safe at home ; and the others were 
 desirous that their faith should compensote 
 for their ignorance, and were deliberating 
 whether they should save themselves by 
 throwing my sister and myself into the 
 sea. The death of two heretics was to 
 appease the wrath of their saints, whom 
 we had tempted them to offend, by eating 
 
BOOK III. 183 
 
 our salt beef on the last Friday. Judge of 
 the fright of my poor sister, who unluckily 
 understood a little Italian. To our great 
 satisfaction, a sail appeared, and a Portu- 
 guese vessel, bound to Livorno, took us 
 on board. 
 
 '^ But we had scarcely time to rejoice 
 at our escape, when we discovered a vessel 
 of superior bulk approaching us with all 
 its sails : what was our consternation, it 
 was a Barbarian pirate. We prepared 
 for an engagement : the women trembled 
 like aspin leaves ; my sister swooned 
 away. 
 
 '^ An other instance of the extravagance 
 of our ideas occurred. It is the last anec- 
 dote that I can give you of European 
 absurdity. A young English lady, who 
 had been ordered to a southern climate 
 for the recovery of her health, was among 
 the crew : her old governess flung herself 
 at her knees, and presenting a knife, in- 
 treated her to preserve her virtue by dis- 
 figuring her face. I had the greatest 
 
184 BOOK in. 
 
 difficulty to dissuade the young enthu- 
 siast from this mad project : 1 represented 
 to her, how the nuns of Coldingham a 
 thousand years before, having mangled 
 their faces to escape violation from the 
 Danes, were ail put to the sword. 
 
 '^ And take my word for it," said a sai- 
 lor who had overheard my arguments, 
 *• the Moors v/ill fling you overboard if 
 you do. Begin with yourself," said he, 
 addressing the governess, " if you prefer 
 your chastity to your life ; I would not 
 give a whif of tobacco for either. I was 
 once a prisoner in Syria and saw the ruins 
 of a convent at Acre : the lady-abbess was 
 as great a fool as yourself, and persuaded 
 the nuns to cut off their noses. The 
 Turks respected their virtue as you call it, 
 but made mince-meat of the whole bevy ; 
 and, should I suffer any such squeamish 
 tricks here, the whole ship's company 
 may suffer for it." 
 
 " I have repeated this discourse to show 
 how infatuated we Europeans have been 
 
BOOK III. 185 
 
 ill every a<j^e. Love is a fvee gift, a mark 
 oF good-will, which should not be ex- 
 torted. An act of violence should he 
 punished with all the rigor of the law; 
 but would it not be better to submit to 
 an outrage, than to sacrifice one's nose? 
 
 " Meanwhile the pirate came within 
 shot, and made a signal for us to surren- 
 der. Our answer was a cannon-ball. An 
 engagement ensued ; we fought with reso- 
 lution : our number was diminished ; we 
 floated in blood, but still refused to strike 
 our colors. At length they boarded us 
 sword in hand ; our men, who were se- 
 verely wounded, were, without mercy, 
 thrown into the sea ; the others, myself 
 among the rest, were bound hand and 
 foot, and stowed in different parts of the 
 vessel. The women, without any cere- 
 mony, were examined. The young lady 
 w as placed aside ; the pirates, considering 
 a woman an article of trade, would have 
 been unwilling to lower her price at the 
 next market. The governess, having no- 
 
186 BOOK III. 
 
 thing to lose^ passed from lover to lover 
 vtith patience and resign ati an. The cap- 
 tain reserved my sister for himself: and 
 judge of my feelings — I, v/ho had formerly 
 murdered a lover worthy of her, who had 
 forced her from her natal country — I, 
 who was the cause of her present indig- 
 nity, I saw her violently dragged into the 
 cabin of the brutal pirate ; I heard her 
 screams, and could only rattle my chain 
 and gnash my teeth for rage. 
 
 ^^ We sailed at last into Tetuan ; the 
 Emperor of Morocco was at Mequinez. 
 The male slaves were to march there 
 for him to choose his share of us. A ras- 
 cally Moor came to us, waving his cud- 
 gel, and bade us quit the vessel. Good 
 heavens ! I wa^ to be separated from my 
 sister, to leave her in the hands of these 
 barbarians. I begged, I entreated, I con- 
 jured them not to separate us — in vain. 
 I asked, as the only favor, to be suffered 
 to speak a few words of consolation to her 
 in the presence *of the renegado inter- 
 
BOOK III. 187 
 
 preter. This was refused. ^' What!" said 
 the captain, ^' you wish to cheat me, hke 
 the Italian, who stabhed his daughter to 
 the heart, and I lost a virgin, who, even 
 before she w^as fattened, was worth three 
 hundred sequins." My sister, however, 
 escaped from her guard, and ran upon 
 deck ; she saw me forced into the boat, 
 she shrieked, and fainted away. 
 
 " O my dear sister ! I left her in that 
 helpless situation ; it was the last time 
 these eyes beheld her. Heaven knows 
 what has been her fate ! 
 
 " I will not describe the horrors of our 
 march; a barren country, a vertical sun^ 
 no shade, no refreshment; chained like 
 convicts, two and two; insulted through 
 every village, pelted with dirt and stones 
 by the children, who even set their dogs 
 upon us Christian dogs, as we passed 
 along. 
 
 "' We arrived at Mequinez ; the next 
 day we were conducted into the Emperor's 
 presence. A sullen gloom in his coun- 
 
188 BOOK III. 
 
 tenance made his courtiers tremble : he 
 sat on a mat^ nor gave any attention to 
 the drums and bagpipes^ which composed 
 a concert fit for a Moor or a dancing bear. 
 We stood waiting, but the first minister 
 dared not interrupt his reverie. 
 
 '^ Suddenly a noise was heard in the 
 palace yard ; three slaves were to be be- 
 headed for venturing into the garden of 
 the harem. In a land like this, where 
 the women are held in the most abject 
 slavery, had they murdered a brother, 
 had they mixed poison in the drink of a 
 mother, had they committed the most 
 atrocious crimes against God and man, 
 their case would have been less desperate, 
 there would have been a possibility of 
 pardon; but they had ventured into the 
 garden of the harem. The Moors won- 
 dered at the lenity of their prince in not 
 refining their punishment, and in not con- 
 demning them to expire in the most 
 excruciating torments. The executioner 
 had dispatched one of tKem. *' See," said 
 
BOOK III. 189 
 
 the Emperor, who had liastened to the 
 window, " that blockhead, how awkward 
 he is ; he knows not how to cut off a 
 head." He made a signal of delay; the 
 two unhappy men could not contain their 
 transports, they hoped a pardon ; when 
 the Emperor appears, cuts off their heads 
 with his own hands, and returns in his 
 bloody garments to the audience chamber. 
 The courtiers compliment him on his su- 
 perior skill. 
 
 *^ The Emperor, having examined our 
 party, fixed upon two capuchins and a 
 benedictin for his share, " Ye priests," 
 said he, '• are none of you worth your 
 feeding? but ye bring the surest ransom." 
 
 " The next day the rest of us were 
 stripped of our sackcloth jacket and 
 trowsers, and conducted to the batistan, 
 or slave-market; our own clothes had 
 been already taken from us. Every pur- 
 chaser was allowed to question us about 
 our rank, country, talents, and qualifica- 
 tions ; to inquire into the state of our 
 
190 EOOK III. 
 
 health, whether we had any bodily ble- j 
 iriish, which might render us incapable of *| 
 service. In short, they examined us as 
 they would try a horse ; inade us run, 
 walk, jump : I shall never forget these 
 humiliations. After a long cavil, whether 
 the sum should be paid in gold or in silver, 
 I became the property of a Moor. 
 
 '^ My master lived at a villa, and my 
 employment was in the garden. I will 
 not relate my treatment, you know how 
 the Persians treat their slaves. A Neapo- 
 litan renegado was our overseer, and go- 
 verned us v/ith a rod of iron; his minions 
 alone led not only a tolerable, but an easy 
 life. He at first seemed inclined to favor 
 me also, but I was less complaisant than 
 he expected, and he swore vengeance 
 against me. When our daily work was 
 finished, we were allowed an hour of re- 
 laxation before sun-set. I retired from 
 his persecutions to lament my hard fate ; 
 I thought on Emma. " Oh ! but for our 
 European chimeras, thoumightcstbe happy 
 
BOOK III. 191 
 
 ill the arms of thy lover — thy lover^ whom 
 I murdered : we might all have remained 
 happy ill England." I wept the liour 
 away till the bell rang, and we were all 
 driven into our dormitory, till the next 
 morning should renew our labors. We 
 were trusted with no light, lest we should 
 set fire to our prison. The horrible con- 
 sequences of the separation of the sexes 
 may be conceived : figure to yourself ten, 
 twenty, or a hundred women, shut up 
 within the walls of a harem, and destined 
 for the pleasures of a single individual, 
 perhaps of a hoary dotard, of a decrepid 
 invalid. Round this sepulchre of love, 
 where youth and beauty are buried alive, 
 are the dormitories of a number of slaves, 
 unhappy men, without hopes, without 
 any principle, without any sense of shame; 
 debarred from all intercourse with the 
 other sex, perhaps during their whole 
 life, without the opportunity of address- 
 ing, sometimes for months together with- 
 out seeing a female, there they lie, in a 
 
192 BOOK irr. 
 
 hot climate, inviting to every indulgence. 
 How great are the horrors of polygamy; 
 in a country where a Muly Ismael can 
 have three thousand wives^ and five thou- 
 sand concubines^ eight thousand men will 
 find no women at all. 
 
 '^ My master had passed his fiftieth 
 year, and because his first wife had borne 
 him no children, he, without reflecting 
 on the consequences of his youthful irre- 
 gularities, imputed the fault to her, and 
 had just taken a second wife, a girl of 
 seventeen. I was a long time in his ser- 
 vice without knowing any of these cir- 
 cumstances ; he had a number of female 
 slaves, but 1 never saw the face of any of 
 them. 
 
 " One evening I had retired to a solitary 
 walk in our play-ground ; I found a fife. 
 I had learned the flute in Germany ; I 
 took up the miserable instrument, and 
 frequently endeavored to play away my 
 sorrows. I had the misfortune to be over- 
 heard by the young wife ; she wished to 
 
HOOK HI. 193 
 
 send for me to play before her : her hus- 
 band was doatingly fond of her, but his 
 jealousy took fright at the proposal. It 
 was so contrary to the rules of a seraglio, 
 to admit a man within the harem : he 
 mentioned the affair to the Neapolitan, 
 w^ho had his entire confidence; and the 
 rascal, who bore me a grudge, proposed to 
 remedy the difficulty. Oh, can I pro- 
 nounce the word ? can I mention the dis- 
 grace that awaited me ? Walter de Grey 
 was to lose his manhood. 
 
 " 1 will not describe my grief, my rage, 
 my despair, as this was announced to me. 
 Had not some slaves interposed, I should 
 have throttled the overseer. I hung my 
 head. Had not every instrument of death 
 been removed, I should have put an end 
 to my existence; I was chained hand and 
 foot. Luckily the surgeon, employed by 
 my master, had been sent to some dis- 
 tance to cure a slave, who had cut her 
 throat at seeing her lover, after failing in 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 BOOK III. 
 
 his attempt to deliver her, impaled at the 
 door of her harem. 
 
 '^ His absence retarded my degrada- 
 tion, and one of the revolutions so com- 
 mon in Barbary saved me. Abdallah, 
 the eldest prince, had discovered that his 
 father meant to sacrifice him to his passion 
 for a young wife, and to declare her son 
 his successor to the throne : he debauched 
 the army by the promise of a double pay; 
 he murdered his father and ten of his 
 brothers^ and having stripped of their 
 gold and jewels the eight hundred wives 
 of his father, satisfied the mercenaries, 
 and was saluted Emperor. Such is the 
 fate of Mahometan despotism. 
 
 "The surgeon had returned, and was 
 preparing his instruments ; the Neapolitan 
 exulted in my dejectioij, they only waited 
 till my master should return from court ; 
 meap while he, being captain of the body- 
 guard, had alone remained faithful to his 
 soy^ereign^ andhajihadth^ honor of being 
 
BOOK in. 195 
 
 massacred by the hand of the young 
 Prince. The new Emperor conferred hid 
 goods and chattels, together with his 
 slaves and cattle, upon one of his fa*- 
 vorites ; my new master sold the women 
 as one would sell a stud of horses, and 
 sent the men to work at one of his es- 
 tates ; but hearing that I was an English- 
 man, he retained me about his person. 
 
 ^' Before I had been long in his service^ 
 he acquainted me that his son was Ma- 
 rocco ambassador in England. " I have 
 purchased a young Circassian," said he ; 
 '^ she has fed on rice for some months 
 past, and is now of a decent size. I pity 
 my son — your countryfolks have no taste; 
 he says your women in England are no^ 
 thing but skin and bone ; I intend to 
 send her to my son, with four slaves and' 
 four eunuchs to wait on her.'* In shorty 
 the old man promised me my freedom if 
 I would superintend their safe arrival in 
 England. 
 
 " The Circassian was shut up in « 
 K 2 
 
196 BOOK Hi. 
 
 box, and put on board the ship ; her at- 
 tendants being veiled from top to toe, 
 and the eunuchs, with clubs in their 
 hands, keeping the mob at a distance. 
 
 ^^ We were scarcely in the Atlantic, 
 before the English sailors had made the 
 eunuchs so drunk as pipers, and were so 
 intimate with the four slaves as heart 
 could wish. The Christian women are 
 slaves, but rather of a sense of honor 
 than of absolute restraint ; they make 
 some scruple to deceive a husband, they 
 have some principle : but a women in a 
 harem has no delicacy, no good name to be 
 lost, and will fly into the arms of the first 
 man that she meets, with so little scruple 
 as a boy feels to trick his schoolmaster, or 
 a culprit to seize the first opportunity of 
 escaping, that the jail-door be left open. 
 Thus the whole ship's company were we!-' 
 come to the four slaves ; and when we 
 landed, this new manner of life had such 
 charms for them, that they determined to 
 stay with the sailors. I, however, on my 
 
BOOK III. 197 
 
 arrival in England, had the good fortune 
 to deliver the Circassian untouched. I 
 was surprised that the young ambassador 
 received her with such indifference^ but^ 
 as one of my correspondents informed me 
 afterward, he was then in love, and, 
 would yoQ believe it, with one of the 
 thinnest women in England ; so whimsical 
 is love — this passion, which induces us 
 Europeans to bind ourselves for life. His 
 Moorish excellency soon after changed 
 the young Circassian with an English lord 
 for a race-horse. 
 
 *^ I found that the Major's family had 
 not given over the prosecution ; I was 
 obliged to remain concealed during my 
 stay ; perhaps even now I shall run some 
 risk in landing in England. Before I 
 quitted Morocco, 1 had discovered the 
 name of the slave-merchant who had pur- 
 chased my sister ; he was purveyor to the 
 harem of the Grand Signor. I embarked 
 for Constantinople. 
 
 " But, my dear FirnoS;, I will not fa« 
 
19* BOOK III. 
 
 tigtie you with the detail of my travels. 
 Since this time, I have wandered up and 
 down Asia 5 perpetually deceived in my 
 hopes of discovering my sister. Where- 
 evej I came, I found human nature re- 
 duced to such a state of depravity by the 
 abominations of polygamy, that the abuses 
 of Mahometanism would have reconciled 
 me to our own superstitions, had not the 
 perfection of the Nair system, so superior 
 to ours as ours is to the Mahometan, given 
 me a diisrelish to any other. 
 
 ^^ At Constantinople I inquired in vain 
 for the slave-merchant ; the British envoy 
 assisted me with all his authority, but the 
 search was fruitless. One day I was walk- 
 ing on the beach, casting my eyes to the 
 walls of the seraglio, when a crowd of 
 people advanced ; they were hastening to 
 a terrible execution ; two miserable Ma- 
 hometan women, having been detected in 
 an amour with some Christian slaves, =* 
 
 * When the British army had quitted Egypt in 
 ISOS, all the MahpiP.ettvn women >vho had had any 
 
BOOK III. 199 
 
 were to be cast into the sea ; superstition 
 beheld with such abhorrence a contiexion 
 between the two religions. This punish- 
 ment was considered an act of devotion ; 
 it was an auto-da-fe a la Turque. A mob 
 of slaves is always licentious ; my religion 
 exposed me to their insults : they began 
 reviling, and would have proc(^eded to 
 further indignities^ had I not fled into k 
 neighboring house. Fortunately, it be- 
 longed not to a Mussulman, whose jea- 
 lousy would have authorised him to murder 
 me for entering his doors ; it belonged to 
 a Greek priest. 
 
 *^ After some mutual compliments, we 
 became acquainted ; his open counte- 
 nance and friendly manner prepossessed 
 me in his favor ; at the same time, ah 
 air of melancholy made me wish to be 
 useful to him. He offered to shew me 
 the way home ; I prevailed upon him to 
 stay to dinner. 
 
 connexion \vith.the soldiers, were cast Into the sciJo 
 bv (he Turks. 
 
'200 BOOK III. 
 
 ^^ During the evening, I acquainted 
 him with the motive of my stay at Con- 
 stantinople. He informed me^ that a 
 civil vrar having broke out in MingreHa, 
 the merchant had departed to buy slaves 
 in that country. 
 
 " Believe me," said he, ^' I know the 
 man ; he is an Armenian, and so great a 
 rogue as a papist can be : he wished to 
 take advantage of my misfortunes. The 
 patriarchs of our Greek church, perhaps 
 considering our wives their own, have 
 made the most singular ordinance, that 
 if a Greek priest marry a woman who be 
 not handsome, he should forfeit his priest- 
 hood, and return into deacon's orders. 
 I had an easy preferment, and pitched 
 upon a young woman, who had every 
 quality to render her husband happy. I 
 presented her to our bishop. The law 
 says, '' The bride of a priest shall be a 
 virgin, honest, young, healthy, and of a 
 fair countenance." She had the four first 
 qualities, but had not the good fortune to 
 
BOOK irr. 20J^ 
 
 please his grace ; he objected to her coun- 
 tenance. I was determined to espouse 
 her, and refused an other woman, whom 
 his grace proposed to me. He turned 
 me out of my living, which he has given 
 to an other priest, who has married his 
 protegee. I was starving in a cellar, when 
 the rascally Armenian proposed to me to 
 sell my wife, whom he could easily kid- 
 nap out of the country." 
 
 "Having reheved the pressing necessities 
 of the ex-priest, I departed for Mingrelia. 
 I found the country a scene of bloodshed 
 and confusion ; every gentleman making 
 war upon his neighbor, stealing his pea- 
 sants, and selling them as slaves. With 
 these victims were peopled the harems at 
 Constantinople; for slave-merchants, like 
 birds of prey, hovered near, to profit by 
 the success of all parties. 1 arrived at 
 the capital, and lodged with one of th^e 
 principal inhabitants, to whom I was 
 recommended. 
 
 " The merchant," said he^ */ is gone to. 
 K 5 
 
20:§ nooK III. 
 
 a fair. Our country squires gamble ?t 
 great deal, and when they have lost their 
 money, have no objection to sell a pea- 
 sant-girl or two ; he therefore hopes to 
 make some good bargains^ but will return 
 to-morrow or next day ; in the mean 
 while, make my house your own." 
 
 "The next day he came to me. " To- 
 night," said he, " I am invited to a sup- 
 per, and you must be of the party. If a 
 lover in this country be catched by a hus- 
 band in the arms of his wife, he is obliged 
 to give him a hog ; ^ and he, to shew his 
 good breeding, usually invites the lover 
 to supper. The other night I had that 
 ill luck myself, and yesterday I sent my 
 neighbor the fattest hog that I could find 
 at the market. To-night we shall have a 
 feast, and hearing that you are my guest^ 
 he reqtiests your company also." 
 
 " The idea pleased me. I reflected in 
 how many countries in the world an act 
 
 * Chardin's Travels in Persia, &c. 
 
BOOK III; 203. 
 
 of gallantry might have euded in deat!i or 
 infamy: aa Englishman, having disco^ 
 vered his wife's infidelity, would have 
 prosecuted her; a Jew would have stoned 
 her ; a Russian would have horsewhipped 
 her ; a Turk would have sewed her up in 
 a bag, and flung her into the Bosphorus ; 
 a Frenchman, indeed, might have begged 
 her pardon for having interrupted her; 
 but only a Mingrelian Avould have invited 
 her lover to supper. We eat, drank^ 
 laughed, and sang. The day-light peeped 
 in on us before we separated. 
 
 *' But, alas ! I forgot my sister. Du- 
 ring the banquet the Armenian passed 
 through the town, loaded with slaves. 1 
 followed him so soon as I could procure 
 horses and a guide ; 1 arrived at his ha- 
 bitation in Armenia, but too late. Having 
 left some of the women to fatten, he had 
 departed with the others for Aleppo and 
 Damascus. I followed him thither, and 
 afterward to Cairo, and even penetrated 
 kilo Al^ysi^Ma, where he had been t^ 
 
204 BOOK III. 
 
 purchase some black eunuchs ; but I al- 
 ways missed him. I returned to Bagdat, 
 but found that he had left that place for 
 Ispahan. 
 
 " I determined to lose no time in fol- 
 lowing him thither. In passing through 
 the country of the Guebres^ I met a mer- 
 chant, who some time before had saved 
 my life in Arabia. During my stay in 
 that country, I once saw a bride con- 
 ducted to the tent of her bridegroom ; 
 she was adorned with flowers and leaves, 
 and was mounted on a camel, while her 
 family, in procession, sung bridal songs 
 before her. I followed ; I was happy 
 in this opportunity of seeing some- 
 thing of the manners of the nation. 
 Would you believe it? even on such a 
 festive occasion the two sexes were en- 
 tertained in two separate tents; so rigid 
 is the jealousy of the Ismaelites : yet 
 they, are hospitable, and I, though a per- 
 fect stranger, was invitied to jpin the men. 
 Oursj however, was a serious, dull, seds^te 
 
BOOK III. 205 
 
 meeting, like a tabernacle of quakers ; 
 scarce a word was heard. The Arabs sat 
 like statues, and regarded the smoke of 
 their pipes. An Arab would consider 
 himself at the summit of wisdom, if he 
 could contrive to talk without moving his 
 lips ; and laughter, in his opinion, is only- 
 becoming women ; and the women, it is 
 true, in the next tent seemed to amuse 
 themselves better: they were a jovial 
 party, laughed, danced, and sung. At 
 night the bride and bridegroom were con- 
 ducted to a tent destined for them. 
 
 " I am sure, ye Nairs will do us Euro- 
 peans the justice to allow, that our obse- 
 quiousness to our women is more amiable 
 than the hauteur of the Arabians: so 
 little are they infected with that gallantry, 
 which rendered poor Lacy so ridiculous to 
 the company at Virnapor, that the bride 
 is accustomed to prostrate herself before 
 the bridegroom, while he binds a gold and 
 a silver medal on her forehead. 
 
 " After some time, the bridegroom re- 
 
2o6 BOOK iir. 
 
 turned to our tent with the accustomed 
 trophy of his victory, and received the 
 congratulations of his friends ; mean- 
 while the merriment of the women began 
 afresh. As the men seemed intoxicated 
 with smoke and opium. I left them lai- 
 perceived. I crept behmd the women's 
 tent, and lying down in the sand, peeped 
 beneath the canvass. What should I see? 
 a parcel of women dancing like baccha- 
 nals round the nuptial bed. 1 was feasting 
 my eyes on this edifying sight, when I 
 received a blow on the back of my head ; 
 a camel driver had discovered me, and I 
 should have been cut into a thousand 
 pieces^ had not the honest Guebre, who 
 pitied me with the fellow-feeling of a 
 traveller, offered a sum for my ransom. 
 This the English Consul since repaid him 
 at Aleppo. 
 
 *^This worthy worshipper of fire, to 
 whom I was so indebted^ was overjoyed 
 to see me in his own country, and endea- 
 vored to persuade me to remaiB a few 
 
BOOK itr. 207 
 
 (lays with him. " My son," said he, " is 
 to marry his sister next week they are 
 my only children : both myself and their 
 mother are so happy in the match. I 
 have seen the greatest part of Asia, and 
 have found the women ill-treated every 
 where ; and I with more confidence can 
 trust my daughter to her own brother's 
 protection, than to that of an entire 
 stranger. You must witness our felicity." 
 I knew that the ancient Persians were 
 accustomed to marry their sisters, and I 
 would willingly have been present at a 
 w^edding, which recalled to my memory 
 the nuptials of Cyrus ; but I was too 
 anxious to break my sister's chains, too 
 afraid of missing^ the slave -merchant 
 again. 
 
 " I arrived at Ispahan, but how unfor- 
 tunate! the evening before a Mirza, a 
 favorite of the Shah, had cut off the 
 merchant's head for endeavoring to im- 
 pose a girl on him as a virgin. With his 
 life ended all my hopes of ever discover- 
 
208 BOOK HI. 
 
 ing my sister. You, my dear Firnos, will 
 have so many opportunities in Europe of 
 discovering your mother ; you may meet 
 her at an assembly, at the theatre, on the 
 promenade; but the Mahometans have 
 no assemblies, no theatres, no prome- 
 nades : you may advertise her in a ga- 
 zette, that will pass from one end of 
 Christendom to the other ; but in Asia 
 there are no gazettes, no communication 
 even between the nearest neighbors ; 
 every house and garden is a little king- 
 dom ; the women live insulated ; the men 
 receive few visits, even in their own apart- 
 ments^ If they have any affair to trans- 
 act, they fix a meeting at some coffee- 
 house. In some parts of Asia, their 
 jealousy so far exceeds their devotion, 
 that they will not permit their women to 
 go to mosque ; nay, they will not allow 
 their priests to obey the commands pf 
 their prophet, in ascending the minarets, 
 to announce the hour of prayer, lest, from 
 the height of these towers^ they should 
 
BOOK III. 209 
 
 see into their house?. What possibihty 
 was there for me to discover my sister ? 
 How often may I have been close to her, 
 perhaps lodging in the same caravansary, 
 travelhng with the same caravan ; I may 
 have seen her herself, but, veiled from 
 head to foot, how could 1 distinguish her? 
 I gave up all hopes, I passed from Ispa- 
 han to Kandahar, and crossed the Indus. 
 
 " I will not describe my feelings on 
 entering your empire ; it was like passing 
 from darkness to light, from purgatory to 
 paradise. I travelled through the different 
 principalities ; what scenes of happiness 
 and abundance ! I was hastening to Ca- 
 licut, when I met the Countess of Ralda- 
 bar, who presented me to your imperial 
 uncle at Virnapor. 
 
 " I would not condemn my most inve- 
 terate enemy to a course of travels so 
 penible as my own ; but if you had seen 
 so much of the globe as myself, it would 
 be attended with this advantage, you 
 would be less likelv to offend my country- 
 
210 BOOK III. 
 
 men, by expressing your dissatisfaction at 
 their chimeras and inconsistencies. AH 
 nations differ in their opinions on almost 
 every subject, and consequently in their 
 ideas on decency, love, and marriage. 
 
 '^ In Persia, as you have heard, I was 
 invited to the wedding of a brother and 
 sister ; whereas 1 had known before a 
 young man, of the Greek church_, who 
 was in love with a very deserving girl ; 
 but their priests interdicted their mar- 
 riage, as they considered it incest, his 
 father having been her godfather. The 
 Jews, on the contrary, oblige a man to 
 marry his brother's widow, to perpetuate 
 his name ; and among the ancient Egyp- 
 tians, brothers and sisters were not merely 
 allowed, but were compelled to marry, 
 their law-givers, Osiris and Isis, having 
 lived so happily together.^, 
 
 '^ When Caesar visited Britain, the wo- 
 men lived indiscriminately with all the 
 men of their district. Among some na- 
 tions, the women are j^ermitted to intrigue 
 
ROOK ni. 211 
 
 so long as they remain single ; among 
 others, so soon as they arc married. The 
 Hottentot girl (excuse my mentioning so 
 barbarous a nation) is allowed so many 
 lovers as she please; but, if she prove a 
 mother, is put to death : whereas, if a 
 Cossack girl has the misfortune to aug- 
 ment the population of her country, she 
 comes off with her life, and is onlv tied 
 to the church-door, and all good Chris- 
 tians are indulged in spitting in her 
 face. 
 
 ^^ In Armenia, a bachelor only is al- 
 lowed to marry a virgin, a widower a 
 widow, and a third marriage would be 
 held infamous. Among the Hottentots, 
 the ceremony consists in the priest's be- 
 dewing the loving couple with his urinary 
 benediction*; yet marriage is so awful a 
 covenant among them, that every time a 
 widow re-marries, she must cut off a joint 
 of her finger. 
 
 * Connoisseur, No. XXI. 
 
212 BOOK III. 
 
 " In some countries, parents promise in 
 marriage their children while infants in 
 the cradle ; and no Armenian, even of 
 the tenderest age, is permitted to leave 
 his home without being first betrothed. 
 Among the Mahometans, the bride and 
 bridegroom never see each other till the 
 ceremony be over. To get an agreeable 
 partner for life, is like drawing a prize in 
 the lottery ; portrait-painting being con- 
 trary to the Koran, they only know each 
 other's features by hearsay. The bride- 
 groom, when he lifts up her veil, may have 
 the mortification of discovering a lame, 
 crooked, squinting fright, instead of a 
 perfect beauty ; and the poor bride may 
 be equally disappointed. Such is the 
 state of courtship among the Mahome- 
 tans ; but perhaps they are fully indemni- 
 fied for this restraint by the right of di- 
 vorce, and if they enter the temple of 
 Hymen blindfold, they may throw off 
 the yoke when they think proper. Not 
 so the free-born Briton ; he is indeed 
 
BOOK HI. 21\5 
 
 allowed to talk and walk and dance^ and 
 in some parts of the island to go to bed 
 with his beloved before marriage ; but is 
 the knot once tied^ he is entrapped for 
 ever *. 
 
 "Could any thing be more striking than 
 the difference between the customs of 
 Persia and Abyssinia ? I have known 
 Persians who have never seen the faces of 
 their own daughters, and who, should their 
 harems catch fire, would perhaps murder 
 any stranger who should approach to save 
 their women from the flames ; whereas in 
 Abyssinia I have dined with grandees of 
 the kingdom — but first I must inform 
 you, that the practice of cicisbeos is so 
 general in Abyssinia as in Italy; and that 
 their banquets are arranged with the 
 greatest regard to gallantry, a gentleman 
 being placed between two ladies. Such 
 refinement one would not expect in 
 Africa. Well, then, in Abyssinia I have 
 
 * Love, an allegory, by James Lawrence. 
 
4 BOOK in. 
 
 been present at a feast^ where many an 
 enamoured pair arose^ and acted before 
 the company with as Uttle reserve^ as if 
 some kind fairy had covered them with a 
 mysterious cloud ^, 
 
 " In the land where Lycurgus ordered 
 the Spartan females to wrestle naked, it 
 would be improper for the modern Greek 
 to show the tips of her fingers. In Syria, 
 in that very region which your inimitable 
 ancestress, Semiramis, governed with so 
 much glory, a female now, wli«n feeding 
 her poultry, would cover herself with her 
 veil if the cock should approach her 'J-. 
 
 " My dear Firnos, I have mentioned 
 these peculiarities, not to make a pedantic 
 display of my knowledge, but merely to 
 take off the edge of your wonder or dis- 
 gust at what you may witness in England. 
 Every nation has not only its own opi- 
 nions and customs, but every nation ppe- 
 
 * Bruce, iii. 304, quarto. 
 
 + Campbell's Journey by land to India. 
 
BOOK III. 215 
 
 fers its own. The Mahometans not only 
 see no absurdity or abuse in polygamy, 
 but there are many of them who live and 
 die without imagining the exis<-ence of any 
 other system. Let me, therefore, beg you 
 not to go open-mouthed, preaching to 
 every new acquaintance the advantages of 
 the Nair system ; your enthusiasm would 
 only amuse some, and your impiety of- 
 fend others ; and you v/ould make so few 
 proselytes as the Christian who should 
 attempt to convert the Turks, and recom- 
 mend to them to dismiss their harems. 
 On the other hand, let not the many 
 errors of other nations make you despair 
 of the possibility of approaching truth. 
 The Deity gave instinct to the other ani^ 
 mals ; instinct is infallible, it is the law 
 of nature : but on man he would impose 
 no law; he gave reason, and reason is 
 permitted to judge for itself. Every na- 
 tion may model and change its system as 
 often as it think proper ; but as art is 
 never so perfect as when copying nature, 
 
2l6 BOOK III. 
 
 SO reason is never so unlikely to err, as 
 when imitating instinct: and every one 
 must allow^ that the system of love and 
 inheritance in your country^ where both 
 sexes are free, and where the child belongs 
 to the mother, is the nearest imitation of 
 instinct, the infallible law of nature." 
 
 END OF VOL. J. 
 
 Printed by F. V'igurs, No. 5, Princes Street, 
 Leicester Square, London. 
 

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