I KNOW not what your thoughts may be, concerning a doctrine so extraordinary with respect to us; but I can truly inform you, Sir, that the Turks are not so ignorant as we fancy them to be in matters of politics, or philosophy, or even of gallantry. 'Tis true, that military discipline, such as now practised in Christendom, does not mightily suit them. A long peace has plunged them into an universal sloth. Content with their condition, and accustomed to boundless luxury, they are become great enemies to all manner of fatigues. But, to make amends, the sciences flourish among them. The effendis (that is to say, the learned) do very well deserve this name: They have no more faith in the in inspiration of Mahomet, than in the infallibility of the Pope. They make a frank profession of Deism among themselves, or to those they can trust; and never speak of their law but as of a politic institution, fit now to be observed by wise men, however at first introduced by politicians and enthusiasts.
IF I remember right, I think I have told you, in some former letter, that, at Belgrade, we lodged with a great and rich effendi, a man of wit and learning, and of a very agreeable humour. We were in his house about a month, and he did constantly eat with us, drinking wine without any scruple. As I rallied him a little on this subject, he answered me, smiling, that all creatures in the world were made for the pleasure of man; and that God would not have let the vine grow, were it a sin to taste of its juice; but that, nevertheless, the law, which forbids the use of it to the vulgar, was very wise, because such sort of folks have not sense enough to take it with moderation. This effendi appeared no stranger to the parties that prevail among us: Nay, he seemed to have some knowledge of our religious disputes, and even of our writers; and I was surprised to hear him ask, among other things, how Mr Toland did.
MY paper, large as it is, draws towards an end. That I may not go beyond its limits, I must leap from religions to tulips, concerning which you ask me news. Their mixture produces surprising effects. But, what is to be observed most surprising, are the experiments of which you speak concerning animals, and which are tried here every day. The suburbs of Pera, Jophana, and Galata, are collections of strangers from all countries of the universe. They have so often intermarried, that this forms several races of people, the oddest imaginable. There is not one single family of natives that can value itself on being unmixed. You frequently see a person, whose father was born a Grecian, the mother an Italian, the grandfather a Frenchman, the grandmother an Armenian, and their ancestors English, Muscovites, Asiatics, &c.
THIS mixture produces creatures more extraordinary than you can imagine; nor could I ever doubt, but there were several different species of men; since the whites, the woolly and the long-haired blacks, the small-eyed Tartars and Chinese, the beardless Brasilians, and (to name no more) the oily-skinned yellow Nova Zemblians, have as specific differences, under the same general kind, as grey-hounds, mastiffs, spaniels, bull-dogs, or the race of my little Diana, if nobody is offended at the comparison. Now, as the various intermixing of these latter animals causes mongrels, so mankind have their mongrels too, divided and subdivided into endless sorts. We have daily proofs of it here, as I told you before. In the same animal is not seldom remarked the Greek perfidiousness, the Italian diffidence, the Spanish arrogance, the French loquacity; and, all of a sudden, he is seized with a fit of English thoughtfulness, bordering a little upon dulness, which many of us have inherited from the stupidity of our Saxon progenitors. But the family which charms me most, is that which proceeds from the fantastical conjunction of a Dutch male with a Greek female. As these are natures opposite in extremes, 'tis a pleasure to observe how the differing atoms are perpetually jarring together in the children, even so as to produce effects visible in their external form. They have the large black eyes of the country, with the fat, white, fishy flesh of Holland, and a lively air streaked with dulness. At one and the same time, they shew that love of expensiveness, so universal among the Greeks, and an inclination to the Dutch frugality. To give an example of this; young women ruin themselves, to purchase jewels for adorning their heads, while they have not the heart to buy new shoes, or rather slippers for their feet, which are commonly in a tattered condition; a thing so contrary to the taste of our English women, that it is for shewing how neatly their feet are dressed, and for shewing this only, they are so passionately enamoured with their hoop petticoats. I have abundance of other singularities to communicate to you; but I am at the end, both of my French and my paper.
CONCERNING
Monsieur de la ROCHEFOUCAULT'S Maxim—"That marriage is sometimes "convenient but never delightful."
IT may be thought a presumptuous attempt in me to controvert a maxim advanced by such a celebrated genius as Monsieur Rochefoucault, and received with such implicit faith by a nation which boasts of superior politeness to the rest of the world, and which, for a long time past, has prescribed the rules of gallantry to all Europe.
NEVERTHELESS, prompted by that ardour which truth inspires, I dare to maintain the contrary, and resolutely insist, that there are some marriages formed by love, which may be delightful, where the affections are sympathetic. Nature has presented us with pleasures suitable to our species, and we need only to follow her impulse, refined by taste, and exalted by a lively and agreeable imagination, in order to attain the most perfect felicity of which human nature is susceptible. Ambition, avarice, vanity, when enjoyed in the most exquisite perfection, can yield but trifling and tasteless pleasures, which will be too inconsiderable to affect a mind of delicate sensibility.
WE may consider the gifts of fortune as so many steps necessary to arrive at felicity, which we can never attain, being obliged to set bounds to our desires, and being only gratified with some of her frivolous favours, which are nothing more than the torments of life, when they are considered as the necessary means to acquire or preserve a more exquisite felicity.
THIS felicity consists alone in friendship, founded on mutual esteem, fixed by gratitude, supported by inclination, and animated by the tender solicitudes of love, whom the ancients have admirably described under the appearance of a beautiful infant: It is pleased with infantine amusements; it is delicate and affectionate, incapable of mischief, delighted with trifles; its pleasures are gentle and innocent.
THEY have given a very different representation of another passion, too gross to be mentioned, but of which alone men, in general, are susceptible. This they have described under the figure of a satyr, who has more of the brute than of the man in his composition. By this fabulous animal they have expressed a passion, which is the real foundation of all the fine exploits of modish gallantry, and which only endeavours to glut its appetite with the possession of the object which is most lovely in its estimation: A passion founded in injustice, supported by deceit, and attended by crimes, remorse, jealousy, and contempt. Can such an affection be delightful to a virtuous mind? Nevertheless, such is the delightful attendant on all illicit engagements; gallants are obliged to abandon all those sentiments of honour which are inseparable from a liberal education, and are doomed to live wretchedly in the constant pursuit of what reason condemns, to have all their pleasures embittered by remorse, and to be reduced to the deplorable condition of having renounced virtue, without being able to make vice agreeable.
IT is impossible to taste the delights of love in perfection, but in a well assorted marriage; nothing betrays such a narrowness of mind as to be governed by words. What though custom, for which good reasons may be assigned, has made the words husband and wife somewhat ridiculous? A husband, in common acceptation, signifies a jealous brute, a surly tyrant; or, at best, a weak fool, who may be made to believe any thing. A wife is a domestic termagant, who is destined to deceive or torment the poor devil of a husband. The conduct of married people, in general, sufficiently justifies these two characters.
BUT, as I said before, why should words impose upon us? A well regulated marriage is not like these connections of interest or ambition. A fond couple, attached to each other by mutual affection, are two lovers who live happily together. Though the priest pronounces certain words, though the lawyer draws up certain instruments; yet I look on these preparatives in the same light as a lover considers a rope-ladder which he fastens to his mistress's window: If they can but live together, what does it signify at what price, or by what means, their union is accomplished. Where love is real, and, well founded, it is impossible to be happy but in the quiet enjoyment of the beloved object; and the price at which it is obtained, does not lessen the vivacity and delights of a passion, such as my imagination conceives. If I was inclined to romance, I would not picture images of true happiness in Arcadia. I am not prudish enough to confine the delicacy of affection to wishes only. I would open my romance with the marriage of a couple united by sentiment, taste, and inclination. Can we conceive a higher felicity, than the blending of their interests and lives in such an union? The lover has the pleasure of giving his mistress the last testimony of esteem and confidence; and she, in return, commits her peace and liberty to his protection. Can they exchange more dear and affectionate pledges? Is it not natural, to give the most incontestible proofs of that tenderness with which our minds are impressed? I am sensible, that some are so nice as to maintain, that the pleasures of love are derived from the dangers and difficulties with which it is attended; they very pertly observe, that a rose would not be a rose without thorns. There are a thousand insipid remarks of this sort, which make so little impression on me, that I am persuaded, was I a lover, the dread of injuring my mistress would make me unhappy, if the enjoyment of her was attended with danger to herself.
TWO married lovers lead very different lives: They have the pleasure to pass their time in a successive intercourse of mutual obligations and marks of benevolence; and they have the delight to find, that each forms the entire happiness of the beloved object. Herein consists perfect felicity. The most trivial concerns of economy become noble and elegant, when they are exalted by sentiments of affection: To furnish an apartment, is not barely to furnish an apartment; it is a place where I expect my lover: To prepare a supper, is not merely giving orders to my cook; it is an amusement to regale the object I dote on. In this light, a woman considers these necessary occupations, as more lively and affecting pleasures than those gaudy sights which amuse the greater part of the sex, who are incapable of true enjoyment.
A FIXED and affectionate attachment softens every emotion of the soul, and renders every object agreeable which presents itself to the happy lover (I mean one who is married to his mistress). If he exercises any employment, the fatigues of the camp, the troubles of the court, all become agreeable, when he reflects, that he endures these inconveniences to serve the object of his affections. If fortune is favourable to him, (for success does not depend on merit) all the advantages it procures, are so many tributes which he thinks due to the charms of the lovely fair; and, in gratifying this ambition, he feels a more lively pleasure, and more worthy of an honest man, than that of raising his fortune, and gaining public applause. He enjoys glory, titles, and riches, no farther than as they regard her he loves; and when he attracts the approbation of a senate, the applause of an army, or the commendation of his prince, it is her praises which ultimately flatter him.
IN a reverse of fortune, he has the consolation of retiring to one who is affected by his disgrace; and, locked in her embraces, he has the satisfaction of giving utterance to the following tender reflections: "My happiness does not depend on the caprice of fortune; "I have a constant asylum against inquietude. Your esteem renders me "insensible of the injustice of a court, or the ingratitude of a "master; and my losses afford me a kind of pleasure, since they "furnish me with fresh proofs of your virtue and affection. Of what "use is grandeur to those who are already happy? We have no need of "flatterers, we want no equipages; I reign in your affections, and I "enjoy every delight in the possession of your person."
IN short, there is no situation in which melancholy may not be assuaged by the company of the beloved object. Sickness itself is not without its alleviation, when we have the pleasure of being attended by her we love. I should never conclude, if I attempted to give a detail of all the delights of an attachment, wherein we meet with every thing which can flatter the senses with the most lively and diffusive raptures. But I must not omit taking notice of the pleasure of beholding the lovely pledges of a tender friendship, daily growing up, and of amusing ourselves, according to our different sexes, in training them to perfection. We give way to this agreeable instinct of nature, refined by love. In a daughter, we praise the beauty of her mother; in a son, we commend the understanding, and the appearance of innate probity, which we esteem in his father. It is a pleasure which, according to Moses, the Almighty himself enjoyed, when he beheld the work of his hands; and saw that all was good.
SPEAKING of Moses, I cannot forbear observing, that the primitive plan of felicity infinitely surpasses all others; and I cannot form an idea Of paradise, more like a paradise, than the state in which our first parents were placed: That proved of short duration, because they were unacquainted with the world; and it is for the same reason, that so few love matches prove happy. Eve was like a silly child, and Adam was not much enlightened. When such people come together, their being amorous is to no purpose, for their affections must necessarily be short-lived. In the transports of their love, they form supernatural ideas of each other. The man thinks his mistress an angel, because she is handsome; and she is enraptured with the merit of her lover, because he adores her. The first decay of her complexion deprives her of his adoration; and the husband, being no longer an adorer, becomes hateful to her who had no other foundation for her love. By degrees, they grow disgustful (sic) to each other; and, after the example of our first parents, they do not fail to reproach each other With the crime of their mutual imbecillity (sic). After indifference, contempt comes apace, and they are convinced, that they must hate each other, because they are married. Their smallest defects swell in each other's view, and they grow blind to those charms, which, in any other object, would affect them. A commerce founded merely on sensation can be attended with no other consequences.
A MAN, when he marries the object of his affections, should forget that she appears to him adorable, and should consider her merely as a mortal, subject to disorders, caprice, and ill temper; he should arm himself with fortitude, to bear the loss of her beauty, and should provide himself with a fund of complaisance, which is requisite to support a constant intercourse with a person, even of the highest understanding and the greatest equanimity. The wife, on the other hand, should not expect a continued course of adulation and obedience, she should dispose herself to obey in her turn with a good grace: A science very difficult to attain, and consequently the more estimable in the opinion of a man who is sensible of the merit. She should endeavour to revive the charms of the mistress, by the solidity and good sense of the friend.
WHEN a pair who entertain such rational sentiments, are united by indissoluble bonds, all nature smiles upon them, and the most common objects appear delightful. In, my opinion, such a life is infinitely more happy and more voluptuous, than the most ravishing and best regulated gallantry.
A WOMAN who is capable of reflection, can consider a gallant in no other light than that of a seducer, who would take advantage of her weakness, to procure a momentary pleasure, at the expence of her glory, her peace, her honour, and perhaps, her life. A highwayman, who claps a pistol to your breast, to rob you of your purse, is less dishonest and less guilty; and I have so good an opinion of myself, as to believe, that if I was a man, I should be as capable of assuming the character of an assassin, as that of defiling an honest woman, esteemed in the world, and happy in her husband, by inspiring her with a passion, to which she must sacrifice her honour, her tranquillity, and her virtue.
SHOULD I make her despicable, who appears amiable in my eyes? Should I reward her tenderness, by making her abhorred by her family, by rendering her children indifferent to her, and her husband detestible (sic)? I believe that these reflections would have appeared to me in as strong a light, if my sex had not rendered them excusable in such cases; and I hope, that I should have had more sense, than to imagine vice the less vicious, because it is the fashion.
N. B. I AM much pleased with the Turkish manners; a people, though ignorant, yet, in my judgment, extremely polite. A gallant, convicted of having debauched a married Woman, is regarded as a pernicious being, and held in the same abhorrence as a prostitute with us. He is certain of never making his fortune; and they would deem it scandalous to confer any considerable employment on a man suspected of having committed such enormous injustice.
WHAT would these moral people think of our antiknights-errant, who are ever in pursuit of adventures to reduce innocent virgins to distress, and to rob virtuous women of their honour; who regard beauty, youth, rank, nay virtue itself, as so many incentives, which inflame their desires, and render their efforts more eager; and who, priding themselves in the glory of appearing expert seducers, forget, that with all their endeavours, they can only acquire the second rank in that noble order, the devil having long since been in possession of the first?
OUR barbarous manners are so well calculated for the establishment of vice and wretchedness, which are ever inseparable, that it requires a degree of understanding and sensibility, infinitely above the common, to relish the felicity of a marriage, such as I have described. Nature is so weak, and so prone to change, that it is difficult to maintain the best grounded constancy, in the midst of those dissipations, which our ridiculous customs have rendered unavoidable.
IT must pain an amorous husband, to see his wife take all the fashionable liberties; it seems harsh not to allow them; and, to be conformable, he is reduced to the necessity of letting every one take them that will; to hear her impart the charms of her understanding to all the world, to see her display her bosom at noon-day, to behold her bedeck herself for the ball, and for the play, and attract a thousand and a thousand (sic) adorers, and listen to the insipid flattery of a thousand and a thousand coxcombs. Is it possible to preserve an esteem for such a creature? or, at least, must not her value be greatly diminished by such a commerce?
I MUST still resort to the maxims of the East, where the most beautiful women are content to confine the power of their charms to him who has a right to enjoy them; and they are too sincere, not to confess, that they think themselves capable of exciting desires.
I RECOLLECT a conversation that I had with a lady of great quality at Constantinople, (the most amiable woman I ever knew in my life, and with whom I afterwards contracted the closest friendship.) She frankly acknowledged, that she was satisfied with her husband. What libertines, said she, you Christian ladies are! you are permitted to receive visits from as many men as you think proper, and your laws allow you the unlimited use of love and wine. I assured her, that she was wrong informed, and that it was criminal to listen to, or to love, any other than our husbands. "Your husbands are great fools," she replied smiling, "to be content with so precarious a fidelity. "Your necks, your eyes, your hands, your conversation are all for the "public, and what do you pretend to reserve for them? Pardon me, "my pretty sultana," she added, embracing me, "I have a strong "inclination to believe all that you tell me, but you would impose "impossibilities upon me. I know the filthiness of the infidels; I "perceive that you are ashamed, and I will say no more."
I FOUND so much good sense and propriety in what she said, that I knew not how to contradict her; and, at length, I acknowledged, that she had reason to prefer the Mahometan manners to our ridiculous customs, which form a confused medley of the rigid maxims of Christianity, with all the libertinism (sic) of the Spartans: And, notwithstanding our absurd manners, I am persuaded, that a woman who is determined to place her happiness in her husband's affections, should abandon the extravagant desire of engaging public adoration; and that a husband, who tenderly loves his wife, should, in his turn, give up the reputation of being a gallant. You find that I am supposing a very extraordinary pair; it is not very surprising, therefore, that such an union should be uncommon in those countries, where it is requisite to conform to established customs, in order to be happy.
VERSES
Written in the Chiask, at Pera, overlooking Constantinople, December 26th, 1718.
By Lady MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE.
GIVE me, great God! Said I, a little farm,
In summer shady, and in winter warm;
Where a clear spring gives birth to murm'ring brooks,
By nature gliding down the mossy rocks.
Not artfully by leading pipes convey'd,
Or greatly falling in a forc'd cascade,
Pure and unsully'd winding thro' the shade.
All-bounteous Heaven has added to my prayer
A softer climate, and a purer air.
OUR frozen ISLE now chilling winter binds,
Deform'd by rains, and rough with blasting winds;
The wither'd woods grow white with hoary frost,
By driving storms their verdant beauty lost,
The trembling birds their leafless covert shun,
And seek, in distant climes a warmer sun:
The water-nymphs their silent urns deplore,
Ev'n Thames benum'd's a river now no more:
The barren meads no longer yield delight,
By glist'ring snows made painful to the sight.
HERE summer reigns with one eternal smile,
Succeeding harvests bless the happy soil.
Fair fertile fields, to whom indulgent Heaven
Has ev'ry charm of ev'ry season given;
No killing cold deforms the beauteous year,
The springing flowers no coming winter fear.
But as the parent Rose decays and dies,
The infant-buds with brighter colour rise,
And with fresh sweets the mother's scent supplies,
Near them the Violet grows with odours blest,
And blooms in more than Tyrian purple drest;
The rich Jonquils their golden beams display,
And shine in glories emulating day;
The peaceful groves their verdant leaves retain,
The streams still murmur undefil'd with rain,
And tow'ring greens adorn the fruitful plain.
The warbling kind uninterrupted sing,
Warm'd with enjoyments of perpetual spring.
HERE, at my window, I at once survey
The crowded city and resounding sea;
In distant views the Asian mountains rise,
And lose their snowy summits in the skies;
Above those mountains proud Olympus towers,
The parliamental seat of heavenly powers.
New to the sight, my ravish'd eyes admire
Each gilded crescent and each antique spire,
The marble mosques, beneath whose ample domes
Fierce warlike sultans sleep in peaceful tombs;
Those lofty structures, once the Christians boast,
Their names, their beauty, and their honours lost;
Those altars bright with gold and sculpture grac'd,
By barb'rous zeal of savage foes defac'd:
Sophia alone her ancient name retains,
Tho' unbelieving vows her shrine profanes;
Where holy saints have died in sacred cells,
Where monarchs pray'd, the frantic Dervise dwells.
How art thou fall'n, imperial city, low!
Where are thy hopes of Roman glory now?
Where are thy palaces by prelates rais'd?
Where Grecian artists all their skill display'd,
Before the happy sciences decay'd;
So vast, that youthful kings might here reside,
So splendid, to content a patriarch's pride;
Convents where emperors profess'd of old,
Their labour'd pillars that their triumphs told;
Vain monuments of them that once were great,
Sunk undistinguish'd by one common fate;
One little spot, the tenure small contains,
Of Greek nobility, the poor remains.
Where other Helens with like powerful charms,
Had once engag'd the warring world in arms;
Those names which royal ancestors can boast,
In mean mechanic arts obscurely lost:
Those eyes a second Homer might inspire,
Fix'd at the loom destroy their useless fire;
Griev'd at a view which struck upon my mind
The short-liv'd vanity of human kind.
IN gaudy objects I indulge my sight,
And turn where Eastern pomp gives gay delight;
See the vast train in various habits drest,
By the bright scimitar and sable vest,
The proud vizier distinguish'd o'er the rest;
Six slaves in gay attire his bridle hold,
His bridle rich with gems, and stirrups gold;
His snowy steed adorn'd with costly pride,
Whole troops of soldiers mounted by his side,
These top the plumy crest Arabian courtiers guide.
With artful duty, all decline their eyes,
No bellowing shouts of noisy crowds arise;
Silence, in solemn state, the march attends,
Till at the dread divan the slow procession ends.
YET not these prospects all profusely gay,
The gilded navy that adorns the sea,
The rising city in confusion fair,
Magnificently form'd irregular;
Where woods and palaces at once surprise,
Gardens on gardens, domes on domes arise,
And endless beauties tire the wand'ring eyes;
So sooth my wishes, or so charm my mind,
As this retreat secure from human kind.
No knave's successful craft does spleen excite,
No coxcomb's tawdry splendour shocks my sight;
No mob-alarm awakes my female fear,
No praise my mind, nor envy hurts my ear,
Ev'n fame itself can hardly reach me here:
Impertinence with all her tattling train,
Fair-sounding flattery's delicious bane;
Censorious folly, noisy party-rage
The thousand tongues with which she must engage,
Who dares have virtue in a vicious age.
VERSES
TO THE Lady MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE,
By Mr POPE.
I.
IN beauty or wit,
No mortal as yet
To question your empire has dar'd;
But men of discerning
Have thought that in learning,
To yield to a lady was hard.
II.
Impertinent schools,
With musty dull rules
Have reading to females deny'd;
So papists refuse
The BIBLE to use,
Lest flocks should be wise as their guide.
III.
'Twas a woman at first
(Indeed she was curst)
In knowledge that tasted delight;
And sages agree,
The laws should decree
To the first possessor the right.
IV.
Then bravely, fair dame,
Renew the old claim,
Which to your whole sex does belong,
And let men receive,
From a second bright Eve,
The knowledge of right and of wrong.
V.
But if the first Eve
Hard doom did receive,
When only one apple had she,
What a punishment new
Shall be found out for you,
Who tasting have robb'd the whole tree?
A SUMMARY OF THE CONTENTS.
LET. 1. From Rotterdam.—Voyage to Helvoetsluys—general view
of Rotterdam—remarks on the female dresses there.
LET. II. From the Hague.—The pleasure of travelling in
Holland—the Hague—the Voorhout there.
LET. III. From Nimeguen.—Nimeguen compared to Nottingham—the
Belvidera—the bridge—ludicrous service at the French
church.
LET. IV. From Cologn.—Journey from Nimeguen to Cologn—the
Jesuits church—plate—relics—the sculls of the eleven
thousand virgins.
LET. V. From Nuremberg.—Difference between the free towns, and those under absolute princes—the good effects of sumptuary laws—humorous remarks on relics, and the absurd representations in the churches at Nuremberg.
LET. VI. From Ratisbon.—Ridiculous disputes concerning punctilios among the envoys at the Diet—the churches and relics—silver image of the Trinity.
LET. VII. From Vienna.—Voyage from Ratisbon down the Danube— general description of Vienna—the houses—furniture— entertainments—the Fauxbourg—Count Schoonbourn's villa.
LET. VIII. Vienna.—Opera in the garden of the Favorita— playhouse and representation of the story of Amphitrion.
LET. IX. Vienna.—Dress of the ladies—Lady M's reception at court—person of the empress—customs of the drawing-room—the emperor—empress Amelia,—how seated at table—maids of honour, their office and qualifications—dressers—audience of the empress-mother—her extraordinary piety—mourning dress of the ladies at Vienna—audience of the empress Amelia—shooting-match by ladies.
LET. X. Vienna.—Vienna a paradise for old women—different
acceptation of the word reputation at London and at
Vienna—neither coquettes nor prudes at Vienna—every
lady possessed both of a nominal and real husband—
gallant overture to lady M. to comply with this custom.
LET. XI. Vienna—Phlegmatic disposition of the Austrians—
humorous anecdote of a contest upon a point of ceremony
—widows not allowed any rank at Vienna—pride of
ancestry—marriage portions limited—different
treatment of ambassadors and envoys at Court.
LET. XII. Vienna.—Dress and assemblies of the Austrian
ladies—gala days—convent of St Lawrence—wooden head
of our Saviour—dress of the Nuns—their amusements—
particulars concerning a beautiful Nun—reflections on
the monastic state, &c.
LET. XIII. Vienna.—Description of the emperor's repository.
LET. XIV. From Prague.—General state of Bohemia—Prague
described with reference to Vienna.
LET. XV. From Leipzig.—Dangerous journey from Prague to
Leipzig—character of Dresden—the Saxon and Austrian
ladies compared—anecdotes of the countess of Cozelle—
Leipzig and its fair described.
LET. XVI. From Brunswick.—Brunswick, for what considerable.
LET. XVII. From Hanover.—Bad regululations of the post in
Germany—character of the young prince (afterwards king
George II.)—short account of Hanover—view of the
country in travelling through Germany, compared with
England.
LET. XVIII. Hanover.—Description of the women at Hanover—the traineaus or snow-sledges described—particulars of the empress of Germany.
LET. XIX. Blankenburg.—Motive of Lady M's journey to Blankenburg—her reception by the duchess of Blankenburg—the description of Hanover continued— perfection to which fruit is brought by means of stoves at Herenhausen—recommendation of chamber-stoves.
LET. XX. From Vienna.—Diversions of the carnival—remarks on the music and balls—the Italian comedy—the air and weather at Vienna—the markets and provisions.
LET. XXI. Vienna.—Lady M's audience of leave—absurd taste for dwarfs at the German courts—reflections on this taste —remarks on the inhabitants of Vienna—a word or two concerning prince Eugene, and the young prince of Portugal.
LET. XXII. Vienna.—Reflections on her intended journey to
Constantinople.
LET. XXIII. From Peterwaradin.—Journey from Vienna hither— reception at Raab—visit from the bishop of Temeswar, with his character—description of Raab—its revolutions—remarks on the state of Hungary, with the Emperor Leopold's persecution of his protestant Hungarian subjects—description of Buda—its revolutions—the inhabitants of Hungary—Essec described—the Hungarian ladies and their dress.
LET. XXIV. From Belgrade.—Character of the Rascian soldiers—
their priests—appearance of the field of Carlowitz,
after the late battle between prince Eugene and the
Turks—reception at, and account of Belgrade—the
murder of the late Bassa—character of Achmet Beg.
LET. XXV. From Adrianople.—Description of the deserts and
inhabitants of Servia—Nissa the capital—cruel
treatment of the baggage-carriers by the janizaries—
some account of Sophia—Philippopolis—fine country
about Adrianople.
LET. XXVI. Adrianople.—Entertaining account of the baths at
Sophia, and Lady M's reception at them.
LET. XXVII. Adrianople.—Why our account of the Turks are so imperfect—oppressed condition of the Servians—teeth money, what—character of the Turkish effendis—farther particulars of Achmet Beg—Mahometism like Christianity, divided into many sectaries—remarks on some of their notions—religion of the Arnounts— conjectures relating to Trajan's gate—present view of the country.
LET. XXVIII. From Adrianople.—Marriage of the grand signior's
eldest daughter—the nature of the Turkish government—
grand signior's procession to mosque—his person
described—particulars relating to the French
ambassador's lady—character and behaviour of the
janizaries—the janizaries formidable to the seraglio.
LET. XXIX. Adrianople.—Lady M. describes her Turkish dress—the
persons and manners of the Turklsh ladies—their dress
when they go abroad—their address at intriguing—
possessed of more liberty than is generally imagined—
the plurality of wives allowed by the Koran seldom
indulged.
LET. XXX. Adrianople.—Manner in which the Turks pass their time
—the present pastoral manners of the Easterns, a
confirmation of the descriptions in the Grecian
poets—give great light into many scripture
passages—specimen of Turkish poetry—a version given
by Lady M. in the English style.
LET. XXXI. Adrianople.—The plague not so terrible as represented —account of the Turkish method of inoculating the small-pox.
LET. XXXII. Adrianople.—Description of the camel—their use, and
method of managing them—the buffalo—the Turkish
horses—their veneration for storks—the Turkish
houses—why Europeans so ignorant Of the insides of the
Turkish houses—their gardens—their mosques and hanns.
LET. XXXIII. Adrianople.—Lady M's visit to the grand vizier's
lady—her person described, and manner of entertaining
her guest—the victuals, &c.—visit to the kahya's
lady, the fair Fatima—her person, dress, and engaging
behaviour—her waiting-women—the Turkish music.
LET. XXXIV. Adrianople.—Description of Adrianople—the exchange— the principal traders Jews—the Turkish camp— procession of the grand signior going to command his troops in person—the manner by which Turkish lovers shew their affection for their mistresses—description of sultan Selim's mosque—the seraglio—the young princes.
LET. XXXV. From Constantinople.—Journey from Adrianople—the little seraglio—the Greek church at Selivrea—singular lodging of a hogia or schoolmaster—general view of Pera—Constantinople—their burial places and tombs— manner of renewing a marriage after a divorce— unmarried women, why supposed in Turkey to die in a state of reprobation—this notion compared with the catholic veneration for celibacy—the Eastern taste for antiquities.
LET. XXXVI. From Belgrade Village.—Lady M's agreeable situation there—diary of her way of spending the week, compared with the modish way of spending time.
LET. XXXVII. Belgrade Village.—Turkish female slaves described— voyages to the Levant filled with untruths—balm of Mecca, its extraordinary effects on the ladies faces— Turkish ladies great dealers in magic charms, to command love.
LET. XXXVIII.From Pera of Constantinople.—Barrenness disgraceful among the Turkish ladies—often destroy themselves by quackery on this account—naturally prolific—the Turkish houses why liable to fire—mildness of the winter at Constantinople—Turkish punishment for convicted liars.
LET. XXXIX. Pera of Constantinople.—Lady M. brought to bed— visits the sultana Hafiten—anecdotes of that lady—her dress—entertainment—story of the sultan's throwing a handkerchief contradicted—amusements of the seraglio— the sultana Hafiten's gardens, bed chamber, and slaves—the Arabian tales, a true representation of Eastern manners—magnificence of the Turkish harams— visit to the fair Fatima—the characters of the sultana Hafiten and Fatima compared—story of Fatima— magnificence of her habitation.
LET. XL. Pera.—Turkish love-letter, with a translation—the confusion of tongues spoke at Pera—Lady M. in danger of losing her English.
LET. XLI. —Suburbs of Constantinople—Turkish water-man— Constantinople, why not easy to be seen by Europeans— pleasure of rowing down the Bosphorus—view of Constantinople from the water—the seraglio—Sancta Sophia—the mosque Of sultan Solyman—of sultana Valida—the atlerdan—the brazen serpentine column—the exchange—the bisisten—humanity of the Turks towards their slaves—the historical pillar fallen down—the dervises—their devotion and dancing.
LET. XLII. —Mr Hill's account of the sweating pillar, and of the Turkish ladies, contradicted—manner of living of the Turkish wives—ceremony of receiving a Turkish bride at the bagnio—no public cognizance taken of murder— generally compounded for by money—story of a Christian lady taken prisoner by a Turkish admiral, who chose to continue with and marry her ravisher—the Turks great venerators of truth—the Eastrn manner of adopting children—account of the Armenians—their strict observance of fasts—summary view of their religion— ceremonies at an Armenian marriage.
LET. XLIII. From Constantinople.—Observations on the accounts given by Sir Paul Rycaut and Gemelli—the canal between Constantinople and Calcedon—the precarious nature of human grandeur in Turky (sic)—description of the house of the grand vizier who was killed at Peterwaradin— moral reflections on the difference between the taste of the Europeans and the Easterns.
LET. XLIV. From Tunis.—Vovage from Constantinople—the Hellespont, and castles of Sestos and Abydos— reflections on the story of Hero and Leander—the burial-places of Hecuba and Achilles—antiquities— habits of the Greek peasants—conjectures as to the ruins of a large city—remarks on the face of the country illustrated by reference to passages from Homer—Troy, no remains of it existing—ruins of old Constantinople—Latin inscriptions, and remains of antiquity—isle of Tenedos—Mytilene—Lesbos—Scio, and its inhabitants—promontory of Lunium the present Cape Colonna—temple of Theseus, how destroyed present condition of the Morea, the ancient Peloponnesus— Candia—reflections on the contrast between ancient and modern Greece—Trinacria—Malta—arrival at Tunis—face of the country—manner of celebrating the Mahometan ramadan or Lent—the natives—ruins of the aqueduct of Carthage—description and chronological anecdotes of the city of Tunis—ruins of Carthage.
LET. XLV. From Genoa.—Description of Genoa and its inhabitants —Cizisbeis, the nature of their employment, and occasion of their institution—the government—palaces —paintings—remark on their fondness for the representation of crucifixes—church of St Lawrence, and the famous emerald plate—their churches not to be compared with the Sancta Sophia at Constantinople.
LET. XLVI. From Turin.—Character of Turin, its palaces and
churches—Lady M. waits on the queen—persons of the
king and prince of Piedmont described.
LET. XLVII. From Lyons.—Journey from Turin to Lyons—passage over
mount Cenis—the frontier towns between Savoy and
France.
LET. XLVIII. From Lyons.—Reflections on the insipidity of female
visits—the inscriptions on brass tables on each side
of the town-house at Lyons—remains of antiquity—
cathedral of St John—critique on the statue of Louis
XIV.
LET. XLIX. From Paris.—Miserable condition of the French
peasants—palace of Fontainbleau—fair of St
Lawrence—opera house—general character of the French
actors—comparison between the French and English
ladies.
LET. L. Paris.—General remarks on the palace of Versailles—
Trianon—Marli—St Cloud—paintings at the house of the
Duke d'Antin—the Thuilleries—the Louvre—behaviour of
Mr Law at Paris—Paris compared with London.
LET. LI. From Dover.—Ludicrous distresses in the passage to
Dover—reflections on travelling—brief comparison
between England and the rest of the world in general.
LET. LII. Dover.—Reflections on the fates of John Hughes and
Sarah Drew—epitaph on them.
LET. LIII. —Character of Mrs D —— and humorous representation of her intended marriage with a greasy curate— anecdotes of another couple—remarks on the abuse of the word nature; applied to the case of a husband who insisted on his wife suckling her own child— observations on the forbidding countenance of a worthy gentleman.
LET. LIV. From Vienna.—Remarks on some illustrious personages at the court of Vienna—character of the poet Rousseau —alchymy much studied at Vienna—prince Eugene's library.
LET. LV. —Victory of prince Eugene over the Turks, and the surrender of Belgrade—the news how received at Constantinople—contrast between European and Asiatic manners—estimate of the pleasures of the seraglio— observations on Mr Addison being appointed secretary of state—Mr Addison, Mr Pope, and Mr Congreve, in what respects three happy poets—reflections on the Iliad, and Mr Pope's translation of it.
LET. LVI. From Florence.—Remarks on the road between Bologna and Florence—visit to the monastery of La Trappe, with reflections on the monastic life—occasion of the institution of the order of La Trappe—the burning mountains near Fierenzuola—general description of Florence—the grand gallery—the statues of Antinous and Venus de Medicis—the first sketches of Raphael's cartoons—envious behaviour of modern painters, in defacing the productions of the ancients—digressions to some reports raised by Mr P. concerning the writer.
LET. LVII. —Remarks on Paris—reflections on staring and grinning—character of the French people—criticism on statues in the gardens of Versailles—the gardens compared with the royal gardens of England.
LET. LVIII. —Observations on the koran, and the conduct of the Greek priests with regard to it—women not excluded from Mahomet's paradise—who among the women excluded— the exhortations of Mahomet to the women, compared with the monastic institution of popery—the sciences cultivated among the Turks by the effendis—sentiments of an intelligent one respecting abstinence from wine— strange mixture of different countries in the suburbs of Constantinople—different species of men asserted— mongrels in the human species—why the English women so fond of hoop-petticoats.
Inquiry into the truth of Monsieur Rochefoucault's maxim, "That marriage is sometimes convenient, but never delightful."
Verses written in the Chiask at Pera, overlooking Constantinople,
December 26th, 1718. By Lady Mary Wortley Montague.
Verses to Lady Mary Wortley Montague. By Mr Pope.