^ :§ ^v^lllBRARYOc ^v^HlBRARYOr ^TO11V3J0>^ %0J|]V3JO^ ^>\;QFCAllFOMi^ ^OF-CAIIFO^^ ^^AHvaan-i^ AWEUNIVERS/a ,^WE•UNIVER% vvlOSANCElfjVx "^aHAINH^WV^ ^lOSANCEliFj^ "^a^AiNamv^ ^El% ^lLIBRARY/7/^ ^UIBRARYQ^ Bi 1^1! !^1 Or X0 v^lOSANCElfXx >• =3 '^/^aHAiNamv^ -^l•UBRARYQ<^ ^milV3-dO^ i I ^lOSANCELfx^ '^/^aaAiNnmv^ ^OF-CAIIFO/?^ > v/ _ ;^ '^c'AHvaan-^^ ^ -^^lllBRARYOr AWEUNIVER% ^(f/Od nvjjo-^ il] give to no body. For my part, I could not forbear advising them (for the pubiick good) to give the title of ex- cellency to every body, which would include thTS k6 letters receiving it from every body ; but the very mention of such a dishonourable peace was received with as much indignation, as Mrs. JUackacre did the motion i of a reference: and indeed I began to think myself ill'uatured, to offer to take from them, in a town where there are so few di\-ersions, so entertaining an amusement. I know that my peaceable disj)osltion already gives mc a very ill ligure, and that it is pu- blickly whispered as a piece of impertinent pride in me, that I have hitherto been saucily civil to evei'V body, as if 1 thought no body good enough to quar- rel with. I should be obliged to change my behaviour, if I did not intend to pursue my journey in a few days. I have been to see the churches here, and had the permission of touching the relicks, which was never suffered in places where I was not known. I had, by this privilege, an opportunity of making an observation, which, I doubt not, might have been made in all llie other churches, that the emeralds and »ubies, which they shew round their relicks and images, are most of them false; though they tell you that many of the crosses and madonas set roimd with these stones have been the gifts of emperors and other great princes. I don't doubt indeed but they were at first jewels of value; but the good fa- thers have found it convenient to apply them to other uses, and the people are just as well satisfied with bits of glass amongst these relicks. They shewed me a prodigious claw set in gold, which they called the claw of a griffin : and I could not forbear asking the reverend priest that shewed ii, whether the grif- fin was a saint.- The question almost put him beside OF LADY MONTAGUE. 17 his {(ravlty; but he answered they only kept it as a curiosity. £ \^as very much scandalized at a lar^e sil- ver image of the Trinity, where the Father is repre- sented under the figure of a decrepit old man, with a beard down to his knees, and a triple crown upon his head, holding in his arms the Son fixed on the cross, and the Holy Ghost, in the shape of a dove, hovering over him. Madame is come this mi- nute to call me to the assembly, and forces me to tell you very ,abruptly, that I am ever your, etc. etc. VII. To THE Countess of . Vienna, Sept. 8, O.S. 17 16. .1 AM no .V, my dear sister, safely arrived atVienna, and, I thank God, have not at all suffered in my health, nor, what is dearer to mc, in that of my child, by aU our fatigues. We travelled by water from R.atisbon, a journey perfectly agreeable, down the Danube, in one of those little vessels that they very properly call wooden houses, having in them all the conve- niencies of a palace, stoves in the chambers, kitchens, etc. They are rowed by twelve men each, and with such incredible swiftness, that in the same day you have the pleasure of a vast variety of prospects, and •within the space of a few hours you have the plea- sure of seeing a populous city adorned with magni- ficent palaces, and the most romautick solitudes, which appear distant from the commerce of man- iiind, the banks of the Danube being charmingly a. 1 8 LETTERS (diversified with woods, rocks, mountains covered ■\vitli v.nes, fields of corn, larf;e cities, and ruins of „ ancient castles. I saw the jjreat towns of Passau and I.intz, famous for the retreat of the imperial court, ^Yhen Vjeuna was besieged. This town, which has tlie honour of being the emperors residence, did not at all answer my expectation, nor ideas of it, being much less than I expected to find it; the streets are very close, and so narrow, one cannot observe the fine fronts of the ])a]aces, though many of them very well deserve observation, being truly magnificent. They are all built of fine white stone, and are ex- cessive high. lor as the town is too little for the number of tlivell fancied and Iltted up, no- thing can look more ^ay and splendid; not to speak o( a fj.dlery full of rarities of coral, mother of pearl, and thronj^hout the whole house a profusion of gild- ins^, carving, fine paintings, the most beautiful j)Or- celain, statues of alabaster and ivory, and vast orange and lemon trees in gilt pots. The dinner was per- fectly fine and well ordered, and made still more agreeable by the good humour of the count. I have not Yet been at court, being forced to stay for my gown, without which there is no waiting on the em- press; though I am not without great impatience to see a beauty that has been the admiration f>f so many different nations. When I have had that honour, I will not fail to let you know my real thoughts, always taking a particular pleasure in communicating them to my dear sister. Tin. To Mr. P . Vienna, Septerobrr i.(, O.S. J. E R n APS you'll laugh at me, for thanking you very gravely for all the oblicjing couccrn you express for me. 'Tis certain that I may, if I please, take the Hue things yon say to me for \Vit and raillery, and it mav be it would be taking them right. But 1 never, in my life, was half so well disposed to take yon in earnest, as I am at present; and that distance, which makes OF LADY MO^'TAGUE. 21 tlie continuation of youi friendship improbable, has^ very mucLi increased my faith in it. I llnd that I have, as well as the ^e^t of uiy sex, (whatever face I set on't) a strong' disposition to believe in miracles. Don't j fancy, however, that I am infected by the air of these popish countries; I have, indeed, so far wandered from the discipline of the church of England, as to have been last sunday at the opera, which was per- formed in the garden of the favorita, and I was so much pleased with it, I have not yet repented my seeing it. Nothing of that kind ever was more magni- ficent; and I can easily believe, what I am told, that the decorations and habits cost the emperor thirty thousand pounds sterling. The stage was built over a very large canal, and, at the beginning of the second act, divided into two parts, discovering the water, on which there immediately came from different parts two fleets of little gilded vessels, that gave the repre- sentation of a naval fight. It is not easy to imagine the beauty of this scene, \\hich I took particular no- lice of: but all the rest were perfectly fine in their kind. The story of the opera was the enchantment of Alcina, which gives opportunities for great variety of machines and changes of the scenes, which are performed with a surprizing swiftness. The theatre is so large that 'tis hard to carry the eye to the end of it ; and the habits, in the utmost magnificence, to the number of one hundred and eight. No house could hold such large decorations; but the ladies all sitting in the open air, exposes them to great iucon- venienries; for there is but one canopy for the im- perial family ; and, the first night it was represented^ aa L K T T E II S a heavy shower of raia happciiin!:?, the opera was broke off, aud the company ciowdefl a\^.'^y in .suck confusion, that I was almost squeezed to death. — Rnt if their operas are thus de!:glitful, tlieir co- medies are in as hij^h a dej;ree ridiruious, The\ have but one play-house \Nhere I was curious to g.o to a German comedy, and was verA' {^lad it happened to be the stor\' of Amphytrion. As that subject has been already liandled by a Latin, l'"rench, and ljn;;bsli poet, I was curious to see what an Austrian author wouKl make of it. I understood enough of tijat lan-.nage to comprehend the j^reatest part of it, and besides I took with roe a lady that had the goodness to expiaiu to me every word. The way is to take a box which holds four, for yourself aud company. The fixed price is a gold ducat. I thought ihe house very low and dark ; but I confess tli** comedy admirably recoin- j)ensed that defect. I never laughed so much in my life. It begun with Jupiter's falling in love out of a peep-hole in the clouds, and ended with the birth of Hercules. Eut what was more pleasant was the use Jupiter made of his metamorphos's, for you no sooner saw him under the figure of Amphytrion, but, instead of flying to Alcmena with the raptures 3Ir. J)rv(len [)uts ii.to his mouth, he sends for Ara- phytrion's laylor, and cheats nim of a laced coat, and h s banker of a bag of money, a jew of a diamond r.ng, aud bespeaks a great supper in his name; and the greatest part of the comedy turns upon poor Ami»hytrion's being tormented by thfise people for their debts. Mercury uses Sosia in the same manner. But I could not easily pardon the liberty the poet or LADY MO?hTAGUE. 2 3 Las taken of larding his plav with not only indecent expressions, but such gross ^vords »s I don't think our mob would suffer from a mountebank. Resides^ the two Sosias fairly let down their breeches in the direct view of the boxes, which were full of peojde of the first rank, tl^at seemed very well pleased with their entertainment, and assured me this was a ce- lebrated piece. I shall conclude my letter with this remarkable relation, very well worth-v the serious consideration of Mr. Collier. I won't trouble yc^ with farewell comphments, which I thick genei'ally as impertinent as curtesies at leaving the room, when the visit has been too long already. IX. To THE Cot;?fTESS OF . Vienna, September i4, O. S. JL HOUGH I have so lately troubled you, my dear sister, with a long letter, yet I will keep my promise in giving you an account of my first going to court. In order to that ceremony, I was squeezed up in a go^Yo, and adorned with a gorget and the other im- plements thereunto belougiug, a dress very inconve- nient, but which certainly shows the neck and shape to great advantage. I cannot forbear giving you some description of the fashions here, which are more monstrous and contrary to all common sense and rf^ason, than 'tis possible for you to imagine. They build certain fabricks of gauze on their heads, about a yard high, consist in:^ of three or four stories, fortified 34 LETTERS \NitIi numberless yards of heavy rll)l»on. 'J lie founda- tion of this stracture is a thing they call a bourlet, which is exactly of the same shape and kind, but about four times as bifj, as those rolls our prudent milk-maids make use of to fix their pails upon. This machine they cover with their own hair, which they mix with a great deal of false, it being a particular beauty to have their heads too large to go into a moderate tub. Their hair is prodigiously powdered to conceal the mixture, and set out with three or four rows of bodkins wonderfully large (that stick out two or three inches from their hair), made of diamonds, pearls, red, green, and yellow stones, that it certainly requires as much art and experience to carry the load upright, as to dance upon May-day with the garland. Their whalebone petticoats outdo ours by several yards circumference, and cover some I acres of ground. You may easily suppose how this extraordinary dress sets off and improves the natural ugliness with which God Almighty has been pleased to eudow them, generally speaking. Even the lovely empress herself is obliged to comply, in some degree, with these absurd fashions, which they would not quit for all the world. I had a private audience (ac- cording to ceremony) of half an hour, and then all the other ladies were permitted to come and make their court. I was perfectly charmed with the empress ; I cannot however tell yoxi that her features are regular : her eyes are not large, but have a lively look full of sweetness; her complexion the finest I ever saw; her nose and forehead well made, but her mouth had ,ten thousand charms that touch the soul. When she OF LADY MONTAGUE. 2^ smiles, 'tis with a beauty and sweetness that forces adoration. She has a vast quantity of fine fair hair; but then her person I — one must speak of it poeti- cally to do it rigid justice ; all that the poets have said of the mien of .Tuno, the air of Venus, come not up to the truth. The Graces move with her; the famous statue of Medicis was not formed with more delicate proportions ; nothing can be added to the beauty of her neck and hands. Till I saw them, I did not be- lieve there were any in nature so perfect, and I was almost sorry that my rank here did not permit me to kiss them ; bat they are kissed sufficiently, for every body that waits on her pays that homage at their entrance, and when they take leave. When the ladies were come in, slie sat down to Quinze. I could not play at a game I had never seen before, and she ordered me a seat at her right hand, and had the goodness to talk to me very much, w.th that grace so natural to her. I expected every moment, when the men were to come in to pay their court ; but this drawing-room is very different from that of Enpiand; no man enters it but the grand-master, who comes in to advertise the empress of the approach of the em- peror. His imperial nxajesty did me the honour of speaking to me in a very obliging manner, but he never speaks to any of the other ladies, and the whole passes with a gravity and air of cercuiony that has sometb,ng very formal in it. The empress Amelia, dowager of the late emperor Joseph, cama this evening to wait on the reigning empress, fol* lowed by the two arch-dntchesses her daughters, who were very agreeable young princesses. Their imperial 26 LETTERS majesties rose and went to meet her at the door of tlie room, after which she was seated in au arm-chair next the empress, and in the same manner at supper, and there the men had the permission of paying their court. The arch-dutchesses sat on chairs with hacks without arms. The table was entirely served and all the dishes set on by the empress's maids of honour, which are twelve young ladies of the first quality. They have no salary but their chamber at court, where they live in a sort of confinement, not being suffered to go to the assemblies or pubhck places in town, except in compliment to the weddinir of a sister maid, whom the empress always presents with her picture set in diam,onds. The three first of them are called Ladies of the key, and wear gold keys by their sides: but what 1 find most pleasant is the custom which obliges them as long as they live, after they have left the empress's service, to make her some present every year on the dav of her feast. Her ma- jesty is served by no married women but the grande- maitresse, who is generally a widow of the first quality, always very ©Id, and is at the same time groom of the stole and mother of the maids. The dressers are not at all in the figure they pretend to in England, being looked ujion no otherwise than as downright chamber-maids. I had an audience next day of the emj)ress-mofher, a princess of great virtue and goodness, but who piques herself too much on a violent devotion. She is perpetually performing extraordinary acts of penance, without having ever done any thing to deserve them. She has the same number of maids of honour, whom she suffers to OF LADY MONTAGUE. 27 go in colours ; but she herself never quits her mourn- ing; and sure nothing can be more dismal than the mourning here, even for a brother. There is not the least Lit of linen to be seen; all black, crape instead of it. The neck, ears, and side of the face are covei'ed with a pliiited piece of the same stuff ; and the face, that peeps out in the midst of it, looks as if it were pilloried. The widows wear, over and above, a crape fore-head cloth, and, in this solemn weed, go to all the publick places of diversion without scruple. The next dav 1 was to wait on the empress Amelia, who IS now at her palace of retirement, half a mile from the town.' I had there the pleasure of seeing a di- version wholly new to me^ but which is the common amusement of this court. The empress lierself was seated on a little throne at the end of the fine alley in the garden, and on each side of her were r.xnged two parties of her ladies of quality, headed by two voung arch-dutchessss, all dressed in their hair, full of jewels, with line hght guns in their hands; and at proper distances were placed three oval pictures, which were the marks to be shot at. The first was that of a Cupid, liliing a bumper of Burgundy ; and the motto, « 'Tis easy to be vahant here > . The second, a I'oRTUNE holding a garland in her hand; the motto, a Tor her whom fortune favours ». The third was a Sword with a laurel wreath on the point; the motto, • Here is no shame to the vanquished «. — Near the empress was a gilded trophy wreathed with flowers, and made of little crooks, on which were hung rich Turkish handkerchiefs, tippets, ribbons, laces, etc, for the small prizes. The empress i:avc the first with 23 LETTERS her own hand, which was a fine ruhy ring set round with diamonds in a gold snuff-box. There was, for the second, a little Cupid set witli briliants, and besides these a set of fine china for the tea-table, enchaseil in gold, japan trunks, fans, and many gallantries ol the. same nature. All the men of qnaUty of "Vienna were spectators, but the ladies only had permission to shoof, and the arch-dutchess Amelia carried off the first prize, I was very well jdeased with having seen this entertainment, and I do not know but it might make as gooil a figure as the prize-shootin;:,' in the AEneid, if I could write as well as Virgil. This is the favourite pleasure of the emperor, and there is rarely a week without some feast of this kind, which makes the young ladies skilful enough tn defend a fort. They laughed very much to see me afraid to handle a gun. My dear sister, you will easily pardon an abrupt con- clusion. I believe by this time you are ready to think I shall never conclude at all. X. To Li-DY R . Vienna, September 20, 1716, 0. S. J. AM extremely rejoiced, but not at all surprized, at the long delightful letter you have had the good- ness to send me. I know that you can think of an absent friend, even in the midst of a court, and you love to oblige, where you can have no view of a re- turn, and I expect from you that you should love me, and think of me, when you don't see me. I have OF LADY MONTAGUE. 29 compassion for the mortifications that yon tell uie befall our little old friend, and I pity her much more, since I know that they are only owing to the barba- rous customs of our country. Upon mv word, if she were here, she would have no other fault but that of being something too young for the fashion, and she has nothing to do but to trausplaut hersell hither about seven years hence, to be again a young and blooming beauty. I can assure you that wrinkles, or a small stoop in the shoulders, nay even grey haii^, are no objection to. the making new conquests. 1 know you cannot easily figure to yourself a ycnng fellow of five and tnenty, ogling ray lady S — fi' — k with passion, or pressing to hand the countess of O 1\ from an opera : but such are the sights I see evei-y daT, and I don't perceive any body surprized at theiu but myself. 2V woman, till five and thirty, is only look- ed upon as a raw girl, and can possibly make no noise in the world till about foxty. I don't know what your ladyship may think of this matter, but 'tis a consi- derable comfort to me to know there is upon earth such a paradise for old women, and I am content to be insignificant at present, in the design of returning when I am fit to appear no. where else. I cannot- help lamenting, on thi^ occasion, the pitiful case of too many English ladies, long since retired to prudery and ratafia, who, if their stars had luckily conducted hither, would still shine in the first rank of beauties. Resides, that perplexing word reputation has quite another meaning here, than wha.t you give it at Lon- don ; and getting a lover is so fai- from losing, that i* is properly getting repr.tation; ladies being much 3. 3t> LETTERS more respected in regard to the rank of their lovers, lliao that of their husliauds. But what you will think very odd, the two sects that divide our whole nation of petticoats are utterly unknown in this place. Here arc neither coquettes nor prudes. No woman dares appear coquette enough to encourage two lovers at a time ; and I have not seen any such prudes, as to pretend fidelity to their hushands, who are certainly the hest natured set of people in the world, and look upon their wives' gal- lants as favourahly as men do upon their dej)uties, that take the trouhlesonie part of their business off their hands. They have not however the less to do on that account, for they are generally de])uties in another place themselves; in one word, 'tis the esta- blished custom for every lady to have two husbands, one that bears the name, and another that performs the duties: and the engagements are so well known, that it would be a downright affront, and pubJicklj resented, if you invited a woman of quality to din- ner, without at the same time inviting her two at- tendants of lover and husband, between whom she sits in state with great gravity. These sub-marriages generally last twenty years together, and the lady often commands the poor lover's estate, even to the utter ruin of his family. These connections, indeed, are as seldom begun by any real passion as other matches; for a man makes but an ill figure that is not in some commerce of this nature, and a woman looks out for a lover as soon as she is married, as jjart of her equipage, without which she conkl not be genteel; and the fjrst article of the treaty 19^ OF LADY M O N T A G U E. 3 r establishing the pension, which remaiu.s to the lady, in case the gallant shouhl prove inconstant. This chargeable point of honour I look upon as the real foundaton of so many wonderful instances of con- stancy. I really know several women of the first qua- lity, whose pensions ai"e as well known as their annual rent, and vet no body esteems ihem the less ; on the contrary, their discretion would be called in question if they should be suspected to be mistresses for no- thing. A great part of their emulation consi.'-ts in trying who shall get most; and having no .ntrigue at all is so far a disgrace, that I'll assure you, a lady, ■who is very much uiy friend here, told me but yester- day how much I was obliged to her for iustifying my conduct in a conversation relating to me, where it was publickly asserted that I could not possibly have common sense, since I had been in town above a fortnight, and had made no steps towards com- raencing an amour. My friend pleaded forme, that my stay was uncertain, and she believed that was the cause of my seeming stupidity, and this was all she could find to say for mv justification. But one of the pleasantest adventures I ever met in my life was last night, audit will give you a just idea in what a de- licate manner the belles passions are managed in this country. I was at the assembly of the countess of , and the young count of , leading me dov\ n stairs, asked me how long I was to stay at Vieuua ; I made answer that my stay depended on the em- peror, and it was not in my power to determine it. Well, madam, said he, whether your time here is to be longer or shorter, I think yoa onght to pass 32 LETTERS it agreeably^ aud to lliat end you must engage in a little affair of the heart. — My heart, answered I gravely, does not engage very easily, and I have no design of parting with it. — I see, madam, said he sighing, by the ill nature of that answer, I am not to hope for it, which is a great mortification to me that am charmed with you. Bat, however, I am still devoJed to vour service ; and since I am not worlhy of entertaining you myself, do rae the honour of letting me i^now whom you like best amongst us, and I'll engage to mana^fe the affair entirely to your satisfaction. You may judge in what manner I should have received this compliment in my own country; but I was well enough aequainted with the way of this, to know that he really intended me an obliga- tion, and I thanked him with a very great curtesy for his zeal to serve me, and only assured him I had no occasion to make use of it. Thus you see, ray dear, that gallantry and good-breeding are as diffe- rent, in different climates, as morality and religion. "VVho have the rightest notions of both, we shall never know till the day of judgment, for which great day oF eclaircisseinent I own there is very little impa- tience in your, etc. etc. XI. To Mrs. J***. Vienna, September 9.6, O. S. 1716. X WAS never more agreeably surprized than by your obliging letter. 'Xis a peculiar mark of my esteem OF LADY MONTAGUE. 33 that I tell you so, and I can assure you that, if I loved you one grain less than I do, I should be very sorry to see it so diverting as it is. The mortal aversion I have to writing makes me tremble at the thoughts of a new correspondent, and I beheve I dis- obliged no less than a dozen of mv London acquaint- ance, by refusing to hear from them, though I did verily think they intended to send me very enter- taining letters. But I had rather lose the pleasure of reading several witty things, than be forced to write many stupid ones. Yet in snite of these considera- tions, I am charmed with the proof of your friend- ship, and beg a continuation of the same goodness, though I fear the dulness of this will make --.ou im- mediately repent of it. It is not from Austria that^ oae can write with vivacity, and I am already infected with the phlegm of the country. Even their amours and their quarrels are carried on with a surnriziufr temper, and they are never lively but upon points of ceremony. There, I own, they shew ail their pas- sions ; and 'tis not long since two coaches meeting in a narrow street at night, the ladies in them, not being able to adjust the ceremonial of which should go back, sat there with equal gallantry till two in the morning, and were both so fully determined to ;'ie upon the spot, rather than yield in a point of that importance, that the street would never have been cleared till their deaths, if the emperor had not sent his guards to part them, and even then they refused to stir, till the expedient ( ould be found out of taking them both out in chairs, exactly at the same mo- ment. A.fler the ladies were agreed, it was with some 34 LETTERS difficulty, that the pass^as decided- between the two coachmen, no less tenacious of their rank than the ladies. This passion is so omnipotent in the hreasts of the women, that even their hnshands never die but they are ready to break their hearts, because thai fatal hour puts an end to their rank, no widows ha- ving any place at Vienna. The men are not much less touched with this point of honour, and they don't only scorn to marry, but even to make love to any woman of a family not as illustrious as their own; and the pedigree is much more considered by them, than Cither the complexion or features of their mis- tresses. Happy are the U K. 35 that, with all my indifference, I should be very un- easy to suffer it. Upon days of ceremony, they have no entrance at court, and, on other days, must con- tent themselves with walking after every soul, and heing the very last taken notice of. But I must write a volume to ler you know all the ceremonies, and I have alreadvsaid too much on so dull a subjecl, which however employs the whole care of the people here. I need not after this tell you how agreeably time slides away with me; you know as well as I do the taste of Yours, etc. etc. XII. To Lady H . Vienna, October i, O. S. 1716. jL o u desire me, madam , to send you some accounts of the customs here, and at the same time a descrip- tion of Vienna. I am always willing to obey your commands, but you must upon this occasion take the will for the deed. If I should undertake to tell you all the particulars in which the manners here differ from ours, I must Avrite'a whole quire of, the dullest stuff that ever was read, or printed without being read. Their dress agrees with the French or English in no one article, but wearing petticoats. They have many fashions peculiar to themselves ; they think it indecent for a widow ever to wear green or rose colour, but all the other gayest colours at her own discretion. The assemblies here are the only regular diversion, the operas being always at court, 36 LETTERS and coniinouly on some particular occasion. Mndam Rabutin lias the assembly constantly every night at her house, and the other ladies, whenever they have a mind to display the macjuilicence of their apart- ments, or oblige a friend by complimenting theia on the day of their saiul, they declare that, on such a day, the assembly shall be at their house in honour of the feast of the count or countess — sucb.-a-one. These days are called days of gala, and all the frier.ds or relations of the lady whose saint it is are obliged to appear in their best cloaths and all their jewels. The mistress of the house takes no particular notice of any body, nor returns any body's visit : and whoever pleases may go without the formality of being pre- sented. The company are entertained Avith ice in se- veral forms, winter and summer; afterwards they divide into several parties of ombre, piquet, or con- versation, all games of hazard being forbid. I saw t'other day the gala for count Aliheim, the emperor's favourite, and never in my hfe saw so many flue cloaths ill fancied. They embroider the richest gold stuffs, and provided they can make their cloaths expensive enough, that is all the taste they shew in them. On other days 'he general dress is a scar/, and •what you please under it. Rut now I am speaking of Vienna, I am sure you exj)ect I should snv something of the convents : they are of al! sorts and sizes ; but I am best pleased with that of St. Lawrence, where the east* and neatness they seem to live with appears to me much more edifying than those stricter orders, where perpetual penance and uastiuess must breed discontent and OF LADY MONTAGUE. 37 wretcHedness. The nuns are all of quality. I think there are to the number of lifty. They have each of them a little cell perfectly clean, the walls of \^bich are coveted with pictures more or le.«>s fine, accordinij to their quality. A long stone gallery runs by all of them, furnished with the pictures of exemplary sis- ters ; the chapel is extremely neat, and richly adorned. But I could not forbear laughing at their shewing me a wooden head of our Saviour, whi(;h, they assured me, spoke duiing the siege of Vienna; and, as a proof of it, bid me remark his mouth, which had been open ever since. Nothing can be more becoming than the dress of these nuns. It is a white robe, the sleeves of which are turned up with line white callico, and their head-dress the same, excepting a small veil of black crape that falls behind. They have a lower soil of serving nuns that wait on them as their chamber- maids. They receive ail visits of women, and play at ombre in their chambers with permission of their abbess, which is very easy to be obtained. I never- saw an old woman so good-natured; she is near four- score, and yet shews very little signs of decay, being still lively and cheerful. She caressed me as if I had been her daughter, giving me some pretlv things of her own work, and sweetmeats in ahundance. The grate is not of the most rip^id; it is not veiy hard to put a head through, and I don't doubt but a man, a Uttle more slender than ordinary, might squeeze in his whole person. Ttie young count of Saiaiul* came to the giate, while I was there, and the abbess gave him her hand to kiss. But I v,as surprized to find here the only beautiful young vsomau I have 4 3S LETTERS seen at Vienna, and, not only beautiful, but jjeuteel, witty and agreeable, of a great family, and \iiko bad been tbe adoiiratJou of the town. I could not forbear shewing my surprize at seeing a nun like her. She made me a thousand obligin^' compliments, and de- sired me to come often. It ^\ould be an iuiinite plea- sure to- me, said she sighing, but I avoid, \> for the information of travellers, as ever a sign-post painter had to write, « This is a bear. » I will not forget to write to you again from Dresden and Leipzig, being much more solicitous to content your curiosity, than to indulge iny own repose. I am, etc. OF LADY MONTAGUE. XV. To THE Countess of . Leipzig, November 5.1 , O. S. 17 16. 1 BELiEVF, (]ear sister, you will easily forgive my not writing to you from Dresden, as I promised, when I tell you that I never went out of my chaise from Prague to this place. You may easily imagine how heartily I was tired with twenty-four hours post- travelling, without sleep or refreshment ( for I can never sleep in a coach, however fatigued). ^\e passed by moon-shine the frightfuJ precipices that divide Bohemia from Saxony, at the bollom of which runs the river Elbe ; but I cannot say that I had reason to fear drowning in it, being perfectly convinced that, in case of a tumble, it was utterly impossible to come alive to the bottom. In many places the road is so narrow, that I could not discern an inch of space between the wheels and the precipice. Yet I was so good a wife not to wake Mr. W y. who was fast asleej) by my side, to make him share in my fears, since the danger was unavoidable, till I perceived by the bright light of the moon our postiLous nodding on horseback, while the horses were on a full gallop. Then indeed I thought it very convenient to call out to desire them to look, where they were going. My calling waked Mr, W y, and he was much more surprized than myself at the situation we were in, and assured me that he had passed ths Alps five times in different places, without ever havin|^>goue a road co dangerous. I have been told since, that 44 LETTERS 'tis common to find the bodlrs of travellers in the Elbe; but, thank God, that was not our destiny; and we came safe to Dresden, so much tired with fear and faligne, it was not possible to compose my- self to write. After passing these dreadful rocky, Dresden appeared to me a wonderfully agreeable sitnatlon, in a fine large plain on the banks of the Elbe. I was very glad to stay there a day to rest my- self. The town is the neatest I have seen in Germany ; most of the houses are new built; the elector's pa- lace is very handsome, and his repository fall of curiosities of different kinds, with a collection of medals very much esteemed. Sir , our king's envoy, came to see me here, and madame de L , whom I knew in London, when her husband was mi- nister to the king of Poland there. She offered me all things in her power to entertain me. and brought .'iome ladies with her, whom she presented to me. Tiie Saxon ladies resemble the Austrian no more than the Chinese do those of London: they are very genteely dressed after the English and French modes, and have generally pretty faces; but tliey are the, most determined minnudieres in the whole world. They would think it a mortal sin against good ])reed. ing, if they either spoke or moved in a natural man- ner. They all affect a little soft lis;i, and a pretty pilty-pat step: which female frailties ought, how- ever, to be forgiven them in favour of their civility and good-nature to strangers, which I have a great deal of reason to praise. The counless of ( ]oz»nile is kept prisoner in a melan- choly castle, some leagues from hence, and I cannot OF LADY MOr^TAGUE. 45 forbear telling you what I heard of her, because it seems to me very extraordinary, though I foresee I shall swell my letter to the size of a })acket. — She was mistress to the king of Poland (elector of Saxony), with so absolute a dominion over him, that never any lady had so much power in that court. They tell a pleasant story of his majesty's lirst declaration of love, which he made in a visit to her, bringing in one hand a bag of a hundred thousand crowns, and in the other a horse-shoe, which he snapped asunder before her face, leaving her to draw the consequences of such remarkable pioofs of strength and liberality. I know not which charmed her most, but she con- sented to leave her husband, and to give herself up to him entirely, being divorced publickly, in such a manner as by their laws permits either parly to marry again. God knows whether it was at this time, or in some other fond fit, but 'tis certain the king had the weakness to make her a formal contract of marriage ; uhich, though it could signify nothing during the life of the queen, pleased her so well, that she could not be contented without telling it to all. the people she saw, and giving herself the airs of a queen. Men endure every thing while they are in love ; but, when the excess of passion was cooled by long possession, his majesty began to reflect on the ill consequences of leaving such a paper in her hands, and desired to have it restored to him. But she ra- ther chose to endure all the most violent efffcts of his anger than give it up ; and though she is one of the richest and most avaricious ladies of her coun- trv, 46 LETTERS a large pension, and the security of a vast sum of money she has amassed, and has, at last, provoked the king to confine her person to a castle, where she endures all the terrors of a straight emprisonment, and remains still inflexible either to threats or pro- mises. Her violent passions have brought her indeed into iSts, which, it is supposed, will soon put an end to her life. I cannot forbear having some compas- sion for a woman that suffers for a point of honour, however mistaken, especially in a couatry where points of honour are not overscrupulously observed among ladies. I could have wished Mr. W y's business bad permitted him a longer slay at Dresden. Perhaps I ara partial to a town where they profess the protestant reUgion, but every thing seemed to me with quite another air of politeness than I have found in other places. Leij)zig, where I am at pre- sent, is a town very considerable for its trade, and I take this, opportunity of buying page's liveries, gold stuffs for myself, etc., all things of that kiud being at least double the price at Vienna, partly be- cause of the excessive customs, and partly through want of genius and industry in the people, who make no one sort of thing there, so that the ladies are obliged to send even for their shoes out of Saxony. The fair here is one of the most considerable in Ger- many, and the resort of all the people of quality, as well as of the merchants. This is also a fortified town, but I avoid ever mentioning fortifications, being sen- sible that I don't know how to speak of them. I am the more easy under my ignorance, when I reflect OF LADY MONTAGUE. 47 that I am sure you'll willingly forj^ive the omission; i'or if I made" you the most exact description of all the ravelins and bastions I sec in my travels, I dure suear you would ask me what is a ravelin, and what is a bastion. Adieu, my dear sister. X V.I. To THE Countess of . Brunswick, November a3, 0. S. 1716. 1am just come to Brunswick, a very old town, but which has the advantage of being the capital of the duke of Woifenbuttle's dominions, a family (not to speak of its ancient honours) illustrious by having its younger branch on the throne of England, and having given two em|.resses to Germany. I have not forgot to drink your health in mum, which I think very well deserves its reputation of being the best in the world. This letter is the third I have wrote to you during my journey ; and I declare to you, that if you don't send me immediately a full and true account of all the changes and chances amongst our London acquaintance, I will not write you any description of Hanover, where I hope to be to-night, though I know you have more curiosity to hear 0/ tliat place than any other. 48 LETTERS XVII. To THE Countess or B . Hanover, November o, 5, O. S. 1716. X RECEIVED your ladyship's letter but the day be- fore I left Vienna, though, bv the date, I ought to have had it much sooner ; but nothing was ever worse regulated than the post in most parts of (Germany. I can assure you the packet at Prap;ue was behind my chaise, and in that manner conveyed to Dresden, so that the secrets of half the country were at my mercy, if I had had any curiosity for them. I would not longer delay my thanks for yours, though the number of my acquaintances here, and my duty of attendinjij at court, leaves me hardly any time to dispose of. I am extremely pleased that I can telJ you, without flattery or partiality, that our young prince (i) has all the accomplishments that 'tis pos- sible to have at his a<^e, with an air of sprightliness and understanding, and somethmg so very engaging and easy in his behaviour, that he needs not the ad- vantage of his rank to appear charming. I bad- the honour of a long conversation with him last night, before the king came in. His governor retired on purpose, as he told me afterwards, that I might make some judgment of his genius, by hearing him speak w ithout constraint ; and I was surprized at the quick- ness and pohteness that appeared in every thing he ( i) The father of his present majesty. OF LAD Y MOM AGUE. 4y said, foined to a person perfectly agreeable, and the line fair hair of the princess. This town is neither large nor handsome ; but the palace is capable of holding a much greater court than that of St. James's. The king has had the good- ness to appoint us a lodging in one part of it, with- out which we should have been very ill accommo- dated: for the vast number of English crowds the town so much, 'tis very good luck to get one sorrv room in a miserable tavern. I dined to-day with the Portuguese ambassador, \Nho thinks himself very happy to have two wretched parlours in an inn. I have now made the tour of Germany, and cannot help observing a considerable difference between tra- velling here and in England. One sees none of those tine seats of noblemen, so common amongst us, nor any thing like a country gentleman's house, though they have many situations perfectly tine. But the whole people are divided into absolute sovereignties, where all the riches and magniticence are at court, or into communities of merchants, such as Nurem- burg and Frankfort, where they live always in town for the convenience of trade. The king's company of French comedians play here every night. They are very veil dressed, and some of them not ill actors. His majesty dines and sups constantly in publick. The court is very numerous, and his affability and goodness makes it one of the most agreeable places in the world. Dear madam , Your L. etc. etc. 5t» LETTERS To XHK Lady R . Hanover, December i, O. S. 1716. X AM vei-y glad, my dear lady R , that you have been so well pleased, as you tell me, at the report ©f my rt'turoing to England, though, like other plea- sures, I can assure you it has no real foundation, I hope you know me enough to take my word against any report concerning me. 'Tis true, as to distance of place, I am much nearer to Loudon than I was KOine weeks ago; but as to the thoughts of a return, I never Avas farther off in my life. I own 1 could with great joy indulge the pleasing hopes of seeing you and the very few others that share my esteem : but while Mr. W y is determined to proceed in his design, I i»m determixied to follow him. — I am run- ning on upon ray own affairs, that is to say, I am going to write very dully, as most people do, when they write of themselves. I will make haste to change the disagreeable subject, by telliojg \ou that I am now got into the region of htauty. All the women have, literally, rosy cheeks," snowy foreheads and bo aoms, jet eyes-brows, and scarlet lips, to which they generally add coal-black hair. Those perfections never leave them, tdl the hour of their death, and have s very line effect by candle-light : but I could wish thej „ were handsome with a little more variety. They re| j, semble one another as much as Mrs. Salmon's court of Great-Britain, and are in as much danger of meJt iug away, by too near fipptoachiu^ the ilre, whict OF LADY MONTAGUE. 5i ttey, for that reason, carefully avoid, though 'tis now such excessive cold weather, that I beheve they suffer extremely hy that piece of self-denial. The snow is already very dt ep, and the people hegin to shde about in their traineaiix. This is a favourite diver- sion all over Germany. They are little machines fixed upon a sledge, that hold a lady and a gcnllcman, and are drawn by one horse. The gentleman has the honour of driving, and they move with a prodigious swiftness. The lady, the horse, and ihe traincau, are all as fine as they can be made; and when there are many of them together, 'tis a very agreeable show. AtTJenna, where all pieces of magnificence are car- ried to excess, there are sometimes machines of this kind, that cost five or six hundred pounds Tnglish. The duke of Wolfeabiattle is now at this court : you know he is nearly related to our king, and uncle lo the reigning empress, who is, I believe, the most beautiful princess upon earth. She is now with child, which is all the consolation of the imperial court for the loss of the arch-duke. I took my leave of her the day before I h-ft Yienna, and she began to speak to me, with so much grief and tenderness, of the death of that young prince, 1 had much ado to with- hold my tears. You know that I am not at all partial to people for their titles ; but I own that I love that charming princess, if I may use so familiar expres- sion, and if I had not, I should have been verv much moved at the tragical end of an onlv son, born afler being so long desired, and at length killed by want of good management, weaning him in the beginning of the winter. Adieu, dear lady R , coctinne to 5a LETTERS write to rae, and believe none of your goodness is lost upon Yours, etc. XIX. To THE COUNTESS Otf . Blankenburg, December 17. O. S. 1716. J. RECEIVED yours, dear sister, the very day I left Hanover. Yon may easily imagine I was then in too great a hurry to answer it; but you see I take the first opportnnityof doing myself that pleasure, icame here the 1 5th, very late at nii'ht, after a terrible jonr- nev, in the worst roads and weather that ever poor traveller suffered. I have tijken th.s little fatigue, merely to oblige the reigning empress, and carry a message from her imperial majesty to the dutchess of Blankenburg, her mother, who is a princess of great address and good breeding, and may be still called a fine woman. It was so late when I came to this town, I did not think proper to disturb the diike and dutchess with the news of my arrival ; so I took up ray quarters in a miserable inn ■ but as soon as I had sent my compliments to their highnesses, they immediately sent me their own coach and six horses, which had however enough to do to draw ns up the very high hill on which the castle is situa- ted. The dutchess is extremely obliging to me, and this little court is not without its diversions. The duke tallies 3i\ basset every night, and the dutchess tells me she is so well pleased with my company, that it makes her play less than she used to do. I should OF LADY MONTAGUE. 53 find it very difficult to steal time to write, if she was no* now at cburch, where I cnanot wait on her, not understanding the language enough to pay my devo- tions in it. You will not forgive me, if I do not s:ty something of Hanover; I cannot tell you that the town is either large or magniilcent. The opera-house, which was built by the late elector, is much finer than that of Yienna. I was very sorry that the ill weather did not permit me to see Hernhausen in all its beauty; but, in spite of the snow, I thought the gardens very fine. I was particularly surprized at the vast number of orange-trees, much larger than anv I have seen in England, though this climate is certainly colder. But I had more reason to wonder, that night, at the king's table, to see a present From a gentleman of this country, of two large baskets ^uU of ripe oranges and lemons of different sorts, many of which vvere quite new to me; and, what i thought worth all the rest, two ripe ananas, v.hich, to my taste, are a fruit perfectly delicious. You know they are naturally the growth of Brazil, and I could not imagine how they came here but by enchantment. Upon enquiry, I learnt they have brought their stoves to such perfection , they lengthen their summer as long as they please, giving to every plant the degree of heat it would receive from the sun in its native soil. The effect is very near the same : I am surprized we do not practice ia England so useful an invention. This reflection leads me to consider our obstinacy in shaking with cold live months in the year, rather than make use of stoves, which are certainly one of the greatest conveniences 5. \ 54 LETTERS of life. Besides, they are so far from spoiling the form of a room, that they add very much to Ihe magnificence of it, when they are painted and gilt, as they ai-e at Vienna or at Dresden, where they are often in the shapes of china jars, statues, or fine ca- })inets, so naturally represented, that they are not to be distinguished. If ever I return, in defiance ta the fashion, you shall certainly see one in the cham- ber of, Dear sister, Your, etc. I will write often, since you desire it ; but I must beg you to be a little more particular in yours: you fancy me at forty miles distance, and forget that, after so long an absence, I ean't understand hints. XX. To THE Lady . Vienna, January i, O. S. 1717. JL nxvE just received here, at Vienna, your lady- ship's compliments on my return to England, sent me from Hanover. You see, madam, all things that are asserted with contidence are not al/solutely true, r.nd that you have no sort of reason to complain of me for making my designed return a mystery to you, when you say all the world are informed of it. Yon may tell all the world in mv name, that they arc never so well informed in m\ afiiurs as I am myself; • Ibat I ain very positive I am at this time at Vienna, vhere the carnival is begun, and all sorts of di\ rr- sions are carried to the greatest height, except' that of masking, which is never permitted during a vvar OF LADY MO? some Spaniards of both sexes, that have all the viva- city and generosity of sentiments anciently ascribed to their nation : and could I believe that the wjiole kingdom were like them, I would wish nothing more than to end my days there. The ladies of my ac- quaintance have so much goodness for me, they cry whenever thev see me, since 1 am determined to OF LADY MONTAGUE. 59 undertake this journey. And, indeed, I am not very easy -when I reflect on what I am going to suffer. Almost every body I see frights me with some new difficulty. Prince Eugene has been so good as to say all things he could to persuade me to stay till the Danube is thawed, that I may have the conveniency of going by water, assuring me that the houses in Hungary are such as are no defence against the wea- ther, and that I shall be obliged to travel three or four days between Buda and Esseck, Aithout finding any house at all, through desert plains covered with snow, where the cold is so violent, many have been killed by it. I own these terrors have made a deep impression on my mind, because I believe he tells me things truly as they are, and no body can be better informed of them. Now I have named that great man, I am sure you expect I should say some- thing particular of him, having the advantage of seeing him very often; but I am as unwilling to speak of him at Tienna, as I should be to talk of Hercules in the court of Omphale, if I had seen him there. I don't know what comfort other jieople find in considering the weakness of great men ( because, perhaps, it briDgs them nearer to their level). but 'tis always a raortllication to me, to observe that there is no perfection in humanity. The young prince of Portugal is the admiration of the whole court : he is handsome and polite with a great vivacity. All the officers tell wonders of his gallantry the last cam- paign. He is lodged at court with all the honours due to his rank. — Adieu, dear sister ; this is the last account vou will hsve fioiu me of Vieuna. If I eo LETTERS survive my journey, you shall hear from me again. I can say, with great truth, in the ^^ords of Moneses, a I have long learnt to hold myself as nothing ;» but when I think of tke fatigue my poor infant must suffep, I have all a mother's fondness in my eyes, and all her tender passion in my heart. P. S. I have written a letter to my lady , that I Relieve she won't like; and, upon cooler reflection, I think I had done better to have let it alone ; but I was downright peevish at all her questions, and her ritliculous imagination, that I have certainly seen abundance of wonders which I keep to myself out \ of mere malice. She is very angry that I won't lie like other travellers. I verily believe she expects I should tell her of the anthropophagi, men whose \ heads grow below their shoulders : however, pray say something to pacify her. XXII. To Mr. pope. Vienna, January i6, O. S. 1717. X HAVE not time to answer your letter, being in the hurry of preparing for my journey ; but I think I ought to bid adieu to my friends with the same solemnity as if I was going to mount a breach, at least, if I am to believe the information of the people here, who denounce all sorts of terrors to me; and, indeed, the weather is at present such as very few ever set out in. I am threatened, at the same time, with being frozen to death, buriied in the snow, and Ob' LADY MONTAGUE. 6i taken by the Tartars, who ravage that part of Huu- pary I am to pass. 'Tis true we shall have a consU tjerable escorte, so that, possibly, I may be diverted with a new scene, by finding myself in the midst of a battle. How my adventures will conclude. I leave it entirely to Providence : if comically, you shall Lear of them. — Pray be so good as to tell Mr. I have received his letter. Make him my adieus; if I live, I will answer it. The same comphment to my lady R . ^ XXIII. To THE CoUIiTESS OF . Peterwaradin, January 3o, O.S. 1717 At length, dear sister, I am safely arrived with all my family in good health at Peterwaradin ; having suf- fered so little from the rigour of the se^oa ( against which we were all provided by furs) and found such tolerable accommodation every where, by the care of sending before, that I can hardly fori;ear laughing when I recollect all the ftightful ideas that were given me of this journey. These, I see, were whoUy owing to the tenderness of my Vienna fr.euds, and their desire of keeping me with tbem for this winter, Perhaps it will not be disagreeable to you to give a short journal of my journey, being through a coun- try entirely unknown to you, and very little passed, even by the Hungarian themselves, who generally chase to take the conveniency of going do\vn the Dar nube. We ha>c hatl the blessing of being favoured 62 LETTERS with fiucB weather tbaa is common at tliis time of the year; though the snow was so deep, we wt-re ohUged to have dur own coaches fixed upon trai- neaiix, which move so swift and so easily, 'lis l^y i^v the most agreeable manner of travelling p(t.-.f. We came to Raab (the second day from Vienna) on the seventeenth instant, where Mr. W sendinj.' wovd of our arrival to the governor, the best house in the town was provided for us, the garrison j>i:t under arms, a guard ordered at our door, and all other honours paid, to us. The governor and all other officers immediately waited on Mr. W . to know if there was any thing to be done for his service. The bishop of Temeswar came to visit us Avith great civility, earnestly pressing us to dine with him next day, which we refusing, as being resolved to pursue our journey, he sent us several baskets of winter fruit, and a great variety of Hungarian wines, with a young hind just killed. This is a prelate of great power in this country, of the ancient family of Na- dasti, so con^slderabJe, for many ages, in this kingdom. He is a very polite, agreeable, cheerful old man, ^rearing the Hungarian habit, with a venerable white beard down to his girdle. — Raab is a strong town, well garrisoned and fortified, and was a long time the frontier town between the Turkish and German empire. It has its name from the river Rah, on which it is situated, just on its meeting with the Danube, in an open champaign country. It was first taken by the Turks under the command of bassa Sinan, in the reign of sultan Amurath III, in the year 1594. The {governor, beieg supposed to have betrayed it, was OF LADY MONTAGUE. 63 afterwards beheaded by the emperor's command. The counts of Svvartzenburg and Palsi retook it by sur- prize in 1098, since which time it has remained in the hands of the Germans, though the Turks once more attempted to pain it by stratagem in 1642. The cathedral is large and well built, which is all I saw remarkable in the town. Leaving Comora on the other side the river, we went the eighteenth to Nos- muhl, a small village, where, however, we made shift to find tolerable accommodation. We continued two days travelling between this place and Buda, through the finest plains in the world, as even as if they were paved, and extremely fruitful; but for the most part desert and uncultivated, laid waste by the long war* between the Turk and the emperor, and the more cruel civil war, occasioned by tbe barbarous perse- cution of the Protestant religion by the emperor Leopold. That prince has left behind him the cha- racter of an extraordinary piety, and was naturally of a mild merciful temper; but, putting his con- science into the hands of a Jesuit, he was more cruel and treacherous to his poor Hungarian subjects, than ever the Turk has been to the Christians ; breaking, without scruple, his coronation oatb, and liis faith solemnly given in many pubfeck treaties. Indeed no- thing can be more melanchoiy than, in travelling through Hungary, to reflect on the former flourish- ing state of that kingdom, and to see such a noble spot of earth almost uninhabited. Such are also the present circumstances of Euda (where we arrived very early the twenty-second), once the royal seat of the Hungarian king,*, vNhose palace there was 64 lETTERS reckoned one of the most beautifiil bdildings of tlife age, now wholly destroyed, no part of the town having been repaired since the last siege, but the fortifications and the castle, which is the present re- sidence of the governor general Ragule. an oflicer of great merit. He came immediately to see us, and carried us in his coach to his house, where I was received by his lady with all possible civility, and majjnificentJy entertained. This city is situated upon a little hill on the south side of the Danube. The castle is much higher than the town, and from it the prospect is very noble. Without the walls lie A vast number of little houses, or rather huts, that they call the Rascian towns, being altogether inhabited by that people. The governor assured me it would famish twelve thousand fighting men. These towns look very odd; their, houses stand in rows, many thousand of them so close together, that they appear, at a little distance, like old-fashioned thatched tents. They consist, every one of them, of one hovel above, and another under ground ; these are their summer and winter apartments. Buda was first taken by So- lyman the magnificent, in 1 52,6^ and lost the follow- ing year to Ferdinand the first, king of Bohemia. Solyman regained it by Jhe treachery of the garrison, and voluntarily gave it into the hands of king .Tohn of Hungary, after whose death, his son being an in- fant, Ferdinand laid siege to it, and the queen mother was forced to call Solyman to her aid. He indeed raised the siege; but left a Turkish garrison in the town, and commanded her to remove her court from thence^ which she was forced to submit to in 1 54 1. OF LADY MONTAGUE. 65 It resisted afterwards the siep;es laid to it by the marquis of" Brandenburg, in the year i542; count Swarzenburg. i-ogS ; general ilosworm, in 1602 ; and the duke of Lorrain, commander of the emperor's forces, in 1684, to whom it yielded in 168G, after an obstinate defense, Apti bassa, the governor, being killed fighting in the breach vyith a roman braverv. The loss of this town was so important and so much resented by the Turks, that it occasioned the depo- s'ng of their emperor Mahomet the fourth, the year following. We did not proceed on our journey till the twenty. third, when we passed through Adam and Todowar, both considerable towns when in the hands of the Turks, but now quite ruined. The remains, however, of some Turkish towns shew something of vrhat they have been. This part of the country is very much overgrown wi;h wood, and little frequented. 'Tis incredible what vast number of wild fowl we saw, which often live here to a good old age, — and « nn- disturb'd by guns, in quiet sleep ». — We came the live and tw entieth to Mohatch, and were shewed the field near it, where Lewis, the young king o.^ Hun- gary, lost his army and his hfe, being drowned in a ditch trying to fly from Balybeus, general of So- lyman the magnificent. This battle opened the first passage for the Turks into the heart of Hungarv. — I don't name to you the little vdiages, of which I can •say notliing remarkable; but I'll assure you I have always found a warm stove and great plenty, parti- cularly of wildboar, venison, and all kinds of crihier. The few people th^t inhabit Hangacy live easily 66 LETTERS enongh : they have no money; but tlie woods and plains afford them provision in great abundance. They were ordered to sfive us all things necessary, even tvhat horses we pleased to demand, gratis; but Mr. W y would not oppress the poor country people, by making use of this order, and always paid them to the full worth of what we had. They were *o surprized at this unexpected generosity, which they were so little used to, that they always pressed upon us, at parting, a dozen of fat pheasants, or something of that sort, for a present. Their dress is very primitive, beins; only a plain sheep's skin, and a cap and boots of the same stuff. You may easily imagine this lasts them many winters ; and thus they have Very Little occasion for money. The twenty- sixth, we passed over the frozen Danube, with ail our equipage and carriages. We met, on the other side, general Veterani, who invited us, with great civility, to pass the night at a little castle of his, a few miles olf, assuring us we should have a very hard day's journey to reach Esseck. This we found but too true, the woods being very dangerous, and scarce passable, from the vast qnantitv of wolves that hoard in them. We came, however, safe, though late, to Esseck, where w? stayed q day, to dispatch a cou- rier with letters to the bassa of Belgrade : and I took that opportunity of seeing the town, which is not very large, but fair bunt and well fortified. This ^vas a town oi frreat trade, very rich and populous, vvhea in the hands of the Turks, It is situated on the Drave, which runs into the Danube. The bridge was esteemed one of the mostextraordinarrin the-^orld. O F L A D T :M O ?? T A C U E. 6; being eiplit thousand paces long, and all built of oak. It was burnt, and the city laid in ashes by count Lesly, i6S5, but was again repaired and for- tified by the Turks, who, however, abandoned it in 1687. General Dunnewalt then took possession of it for the emperor, in whose hands it has remained ever since, and is esteemed one of the bulwarks of Hunojarv. The twentv-eighth we went to Bocorwar, a very large Rasciau town, all built after the manner I have described to you. We were met there by colo- nel , who would not suffer ns to go any where but to his quarters, where I found his wife, a very agreeable Hungarian iady, and his nieceand daughter, two pretty young women, crowded into three or four Rascian houses, cast into one, and made as neal and convenient as those places are capable of being made. The liungarian ladies are much handsomer than those of" Austria. All the Vienna beauties are of that country. They are generally very fair and well sha- ped, and their dress, I think, is crvtremelv becoming. This lady was in a gown of scarlet velvet. Lned and faced with sables, made exact to her shape, and the skirt falling to her fe£t. The sleeves are strait to their arms, and the stays buttoned before, with two rows of little buttons of gold, pearl, or diamonds. On their heads they wear a tassel of gold, that hangs low on one side, hned with sable, or some other fine fur. — They gave us a handsome dinner, and I thought the conversation verv polite and agreeable. They would accompanv us part of our way. — The twenty ninth, we arrived here, where we were met by the commanding officer, at the head of all the 68 LETTERS officers of the garrison. We are lodged in the be«t apartment of the governor's house, and entertained in a very splendid manner, by the emperor's order. We wait here till all points are adjusted concerning our reception on the Turkish frontiers. Mr. W — y's courier, which he sent from Esscck, returned this morning, with the hassa's answer in a purse of scarlet sattin, which the interpreter Lere has translated. 'Tis to promise him to be honourably received. 1 de- sired him to appoint where vse should be met by the Turkish convoy, — He has dis])atched the courier back, naming Retsko, a village in the midway between Petervvaradin and Belgrade. We shall stay here till we receive his answer. — Thus, dear sister, I have given you a very particular, and, I am afraid you'll think, a tedious account of this part of my travels. It was not an affectation of shewing my reading, that has made me tell you some little scraps of the history of the towns I have passed through : I have always avoided any thing of that kind, when I spoke of places that I believed you knew the story of, as well as myself. But Hungary being a part of the world, which I believe quite new to you, I thought you might read with some pleasure an account of it, which I have been very solicitous to get from the best hands. However, if you don't like it, 'tis in your power to forbear reading it. I am, dear sister, I am promised to have this letter carefully sent *o Vienna. OF LADY MONTAGUE. 6y XXIV. To Mr. pope. •Belgrade, February lo., O. S. 1717. .L DID verily intend to write to yoa a long letter from Peterwaradin, where I expected to stay three or four days, but the bassa here was in such haste to see us, that he dispatched the courier back (which Mr. W y had sent to know the time he would send the convoy to meet us), without suffering him to pull off his boots. My letters were not thought important enough to stop our journey, and we left Peterwaradin the next day, being waited on by the chief officers of the garrison, and a considerable convoy of Germans and Rascians. The emperor has several regiments of these people ; but, to say the truth, they are rather plunderers than soldiers ; ha- ving no pay, and being obliged to furnish their own arms and horses : they rather look like vagabond gyp- sies, or stout beggars, than regular troops. I cannot forbear speaking a word of this race of creatures, who are very numerous all over Hungary. They have a patriarch of their own at Grand (^airo, and are really of the Greek church; but their extreme igno- rance gives their priests occasion lo impose several new notions upon them. These fellows, lettiag their hair and be^ard grow inviolate, make exactly the fi- gure of the Indian bramins. They are heirs general to all the money of the laity, for which, in return, they give them formal passports signed anc^sealed for heaven; and the wives and children onlv inherit the 7© LETTERS house and cattle. In most other points they follow the Greek church. — This little digression has inter- rupted my telling you we passed over the fields of Carlowitz, where the last great victory was obtained by prince Eugene over the Turks. The marks of that glorious bloody day are yet recent, the field being yet strewed with the skulls and carcasses of unburied men, horses, and camels. I could not look without horror on such numbers of mangled human bodies, nor without reflecting on the injustice of war, that makes murder not only necessary but meritorious. Nothing seems to be a plainer proof of the irratio- nality of mankind ( whatever line claims we pretend to reason) than the rage with which they contest for a small spot of ground, when such vast parts of fruitful earth lie quite uninhabited. 'Tis true, custom has now made it unavoidable ; but can there be a greater demonstration of want of reason, than a cus- tom being firmly established, so plainly contrary to the interest of man in general .'' I am a good deal inclined to believe Mr. Hobbs, that the state of na- ture is a state of war ; but theuce I conclude human nalurf not rational, if the wovd reason means com- mon sense, as 1 suppose it docs. I have a great many admirable arguments to support this reflection ; I won't however trouble you with them, but reluru, in a plain style, to the history of my travels. We were met at Retsko (a village in the midway between Belgrade and Petervvaradin ) by an aga of the janizaries, with a body of Turts, exceeding the Germans by one hundred men, though the bassa had engaged to send exactly the same number. You may O F L A D Y M NT A G U E. 71 judge by this of their fears. I am really persuaded that they hardly thought the odds of one hundred men set them even with the Germans; however, I was very uneasy till they were parted, fearinp: some quarrel might arise notwithstanding^ the parole given. We came late to Belgrade, the deep snows making the ascent to it very difiicult. It seems a strong citv, fortified, on the east side, by the Danube, and ou the south, by the river Save; and was formerly the barrier of Hungary. It was first taken by Solymau the magnilicent, and since by the emperor's forces, led by the elector of Bavaria. The emperor held it only two years, it being retaken by the grand vizier. It is now fortified with the utmost care and skill the Turks are capable of, and strengthened by a very numerous garrison of their bravest janizaries, coiii- manded by a bassa seraskier ( /, e. general ) ; though this last expression is not very just ; for, to say truth, the seraskier is commanded by the janizaries. These troops have an absolute authority here, and their conduct carries much more the aspect of rebellion, than the appearance of subordination. You may judge of this by the following story, which at the same time will give you an idea of the admirable in- telligence of the governor of Peterwaradin, though so few hours distant. We were told by him at Peter- waradin, that the garrison and inhabitants of Bel- grade were so weary of the war, they had killed their bassa about two months ago, in a mutiny, becausa he had suffered himself to be prevailed upon by .1 bribe of five purses (five hundred pounds sterhng) fo give permission to the Tartars to ravage the 72 LETTERS German frontiers. We were very well pleased to hear of such favourable dispositions in tlie people; but 'when we came hither, we found the governor had been ill informed, and the real truth of the story to be this: The late bassa fell under the displeasure of his soldiers for no other reason but restraining; their incursions on the Germans. They took it into their heads:, from that mildness, that he had intelligence with the enemy, and sent such information to the grand signior, at Adrlanople: but redress not coming quick enough from thence, they assembled them- selves in a tumultuous manner, and by force dragged their bassa before the cadi and mufti, and there de- manded justice in a mutinous way; one crying out: Why he protected the infidels? another: Why he squeezed them of their money .^ The bassa, easily guessing their purpose, ca-mly replied to them, that they asked him too many questions, and that he had but one life, which must answer for all. They then immediately fed upon him with their scymitars (with- out wailing the sentence of the heads of the law), and in a few moments cut him in pieces. The present bassa has not dared to punish the murder ; on the contrary, he affected to applaud the actors of it, as brave fellows, that kuew how to do themselves jus- tice. He takes all pretences of throwing money amonf the garrison, and suffers them to make little excur- sions into Hungary, ^,here they burn some poor. Kascian houses. You may imagine, I cannot be very eawy in a town which is really under the goyei'nment of au, iasoient soldierv. — We expected to be immediate)v Ol' LADY MONTAGUE. 7^ dismissed , after a night's lodgin'^^ here ; butthe pacha detains us till he receives ortiers from Adrianople, which may, possibly, be a month a coming. In the mean time, \ve are lod<^;ed in one of the best houses, belonging; to a very considerable man; amongst ihem, and have a whole chamber of janizar.es to guard us. My only diversion is the conversation of our host Achmet-beg, a title something like that of count iu Germany. His father was a great pacha, and he has been educated in the most polite eastern learnmij, being perfectly skilled in the Arabiok and Persian anguages, and an extraordinary scribe, which they ;all effendi. ibis accomplishment makes way to the ^freatest preferments ; but he has had the good sense o prefer an easy, quiet, secure life, to all the dan- gerous honours of the Porte. He sups with us every light, and dr nks wine very freciv. You cannot ima- |ine how much he is delighted with the liberty of :onversing with me. He has explained to mc seveial rieces of Arabian ])oetry, which, 1 observe, are in lumbers, not unlike ours, generally of an alternate 'erse, and of a verv musical sound. Their expres- ious of love are verv passionate and liNelv. I am so auch pleased with them, I really believe I should sarn t) read Arabick. if I was to stay here a few aonths. He has a very good library of their books fall kinds ; and, as he teli.s me, spends the greatest •art of his life there. I pass for a great scboiar with .im, by relating to him some of the Persian tales, /hich I llnd ai'e genuine. At first, he believed 1 un- erstood Persian. I have frequent dispute* with him ouceruing the difference of cur customs, pai tir«- 74 LETTERS lady the confinement of women. He o.-.aures rae tLeie is nothino;' at all in it; only, says he, we have the advantage that when our wives cheat us, no body knows it. He has wit, and is more polite than many Christian men of quality. I am very much enteitain ed with him. — He has had the curiosity to niiikt one of our servants set him an alphabet of our 1. 1 ters, and can already write a good Roman hand. I'ut these amusements do not hinder my wishin.: he;;; li- ly to be out of this place ; though the weather is colder than I believe it ever was, any where, but ii: Greenland. — We have a very large stove constanllv kept hot, and yet the windows of the room are fro/.t ii on the inside. — God knows when I may have aa opportunity of sending thisletter : but I have writJm it for the discharge of my own conscience; and you cannot now reproach me that one of yours makes ten of mine. Adieu. XXV. To HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE Princess of Wales (i). Adrianople, April i, O. S. 1717. J. HAVE now, madam, finished a journey that has not been undertaken by any Christian, since the time of the Greek emperors ; and I shall not regrel all the fatigues I have suffered in it, if it gives me an opportunity of amusing your R. H. by an account (i) The late queen CaroHiie, OF LADY MONTAGUE. ^5 of places utterly unknown amongst us ; the empe- ror's ambassadors, and those few English that have come hither, always fifoing on the Danuhe to Nico- polis. But the river was now frozen, and Mr. W — was so zealous for the service of his majesty, that he would not defer his journey to wa t for the con- veniency of that passage. We crossed the deserts of Servia, almost quite overgro^vn wiih wood, though a country naturally fertile. The inhabitants are inr- . dustrious; but the oppression of the peasSnts is .so great, they are forced to abandon their houses, anJ neglect their tilla|fe, all they have being a prey to the janizaries, whenever thev please to seize upon it. We had a guard of five hundred of them, and I was al- most in tears every day, to see their insolencies in the poor villages through which we passed. — Afler seven days travelling through thick woods, we came to Nissa, once the capital of Servia, situated in a fine plain on the river i^'is^ava, in a very g(7od air, and •t for tlte x>nntry, the heat being so great that glasses wouhl >e very tix)ul)lesome. Thev are made a good deal in he manner of the Dutch sta^e coaches, having ,8 LETTERS wooden lattices painted and gilded : the inside being also painted with baskets and nosegays of flowers, intermixed commonly with little poetical niottos. They are covered all over with scarlet cloth, lined with silk, and very often richly embroidered and fringed. ^— This covering entirely hides the persons in them, but may be thrown back at pleasure, and thus per- mit the ladies to peep through the lattices. They hold' four people very conveniently, seated on cu- shions, but not raised. In one of these covered waggons, I v/ent to the bugnio about ten o'clock. It was already full of wo- men. It is built of stone, in the shape of a dome, with no windows but in the roof, which gives light enough. There were five of these domes joining to- gether, the outmost being less th?n the rest, and serving only as a hall, where the portress stood at the door. Ladies of quality generally give this woman a crown or ten shillings, and I did not forget that ce-r remony. The next room is a very large one, paved with marble, and all round it.are two raised sofas of marble, one above another. There were four foun- tains of cold water in this room, falling first into marble basons, and then running on the floor in little channels made for that purpose, which carried the streams into the next room, something less than this, with the same sort of marble sofas, but so hot with steams of sulphur, proceeding from the baths joining to it, 'twas impossible to sfay there with one's clothes on. The two otlier domes were the hot baths, one of which had cocks of cold water turning into it to OF LADY MONTAGUE. n,^ temper it to what decree of warmth the bathers plea- sed to have. I was in my travelling habit, which is a riding dress, and ceitain.'y appeared very extraordinary to them. Yet there was not one of them that shewed the least surprise or impertinent curiosity, i>ut re- ceived me with ail the obliging civil ty possible. I know no European court, where the ladies would have behaved themselves in so polite a manner to such a stranger. I believe, upon the whole, there were two hurid£ed women, and yet none of those disdainful smiles, and satirical whispers, that never fad in our assemblies, v,hen any body appears that is not dressed exactly in the fashion. They repeated over and over to me : « Guiuxel, tek Gutuzet-.k which is nothing but « charming, very charming. >j — The lirst sofas were covered with cushions and rich car- pets, ou v\hich sat the ladies; and on the second their slaves behind them, but without any distinc- tion of rank by iheir dress, all being in the state of nature, that is in plain Knglish, stark naked, with- out any beauty or defect concealed. Yet there was not the least wanton smile or immodest gesture among them. They wtilked and moved with the same niajestick grace, which Milton describes our general mother with. There were many amongst them, as exactly proportioned as ever any goddess was drawn by the pencil of a Guido or Titian, — and most of their skins shiningly white, only adorned by their beautiful hair, divided into many tresses, hanging on their shoulders, braided either with pearl or ribbon, perfectly representing the figures of the graces. 8o LETTERS I was licre convinced of ilie truth of a reflection I liave often made, tbat, if it were the fashion to go naked, the face would be hardly oh.served. I percei- ved that the ladies of the most delicate skins and fi- nest shapes had the greatest share of my admira- tion, though their faces were sometimes less beauti- ful than those of their companions. To tell you the truth, I had wickedness enough to wish secretly that Mr, Jervas could have been there invisible. I fancy it would have very much improved his art, to see so many fine women naked in different postures. some in conversation, some working, others drinking cof- * fee or sherbet, and many negligently lying on their cushions, A^hile their slaves (generally pretty girls of seventeen or eighteen ) were employed in braiding their hair in several pretty fancies. In short, 'tis the woman's coffee-house, where all the news of the town is told, scandal invented, etc. — They general- ly take this diversion once a week, and stay there at least four or five hours, without getting cold by im- mediately coming out of the hot-b^ath juto the cold room, which was very surprising to me. The lady that seemed the most considerable among them, en- treated me to sit by her, and would fain have un- dressed me for the bath. I excused myself with some difficult5\ They being, however, all so earnest in persuading me, I was at last forced to open my shirt, and shew them my stays, which satisfied them vei'y well ; for I saw they believed I was locked up in that machine, and that it was not in my own ]>ower to open it, which contrivance they attributed to my husband. — I was charmed with their civility and OF LADY MONTAGUE. 8i beauty, and should have been very glad to pass more time with them ; but Mr. W — resolving to pursue his journey next morning early, I was in haste to seethe ruins of .Tustinian's church, which did not afford me so agreeable a prospect as I had left, l)elng little more than a heap of stones. Adieu, madam, I am sure I have now ente;tained you with an account of such a sight, as you never saw in vour life, and what no book of travels could inform you of, as 'tis no less than death for a man to be found in one of these places. XXVII. To THE Abbot . Adriauople, April i, O. S. 17 1". JL ou see that I am very exact in keeping the pro- mise you engaged me to make. I know not, however, whether your curiosity will be satisfied with the ac- counts I shall g.ve you, tho' I can assure you, ihe de- sire I have to oblige you to the utmost of my power has made me very diligent in my inquiries and ob- servations. 'Tis certain we have but very imperfect accounts of the manners and religion of these people : this part of the world being seldom visited, but by merchants, who mind little but their own affairs; or travellers, who make too short a stay to be able to report any thing exactly cf their own knowledge. The Turks are too proud to converse familiarly with merchants, who can give no better account of the ways here, than a French refugee, lodging in a gav- 82 LETTERS ret in Greek-street, could write of the court of En- gland. The journey we have made from Belgrade hither cannot possibly be passed by any out of a pubiick character. The desert woods of Servia are the common refuge of thieves, who rob, fifty in a company, so tliat we had need of all our guards to secure us; and the villages are so poor, that only force could extort from them necessary provisions. Indeed the janizaries had no mercy on their pover- ty, killing all the poultry and sheep they could find, witjiout asking to whom they belonged ; while the wretched owners durst not put in the;r claim for fear of being beaten. Lambs just fallen, geese and turkies big with egg^ all massacred without distinc- tion. I fancied I heard the complaints of Melibeus, for the hope of his flock. When the pachas travel, 'tis yet worse. Those oppressors are not content with eating all that is to be eaten belonging to the peasants ; after they have crammed themselves and their numerous retinue, they have the impudence to exact what thev call teeth-money, a contribution for the use of their teeth, uorn with doing them the honour of devouring their meat. This is literally and exactly true, however extravagant it may se^ ; and such is the natural corruption of a military go- vernment, their religion not allowing of this barba- rity, any more than ours does. I had the advantage of lodging three weelvs at Belgrade, with a principal effendi, that is to say, a scholar. This set of men are equally capable of pre- ferments in the law or the church ; those two sciences being cast ijito one, and a lawyer and a priest being or LAD Y MONTAGUE. 83 the same ■oord in the Tmkish languafje. They all the only men really considerahle in the empire, are the profitahle employments and ohiarch revenues are in their hands. The grand signior, though gene- ral heir to his people, never presuines to touch their lands or money, ^\hich go, in an nnintenup-- ted succession, to their children. 'Tis true, they lose this privilege by accepting a place at court, or the title of pac ha ; but there are few examples of such fooU among them. You may easily jadge of the power of these men, who have CDgrossed all the learning and almost all the wealth of the empire. 'Tis they that are the real authors, tho' the soldiers are the actors, of revolntions. They deposed the late sultan 3Iustaph;<, and their power is so well known, that 'tis the emperor's interest to flatter them. This is a long digression. I was going to tell tou that an intimate dady conversation with the effendi Achmet-beg gave me an opportunity of knowing their religion and morals in a more particular man- ner than perhaps any Christian ever did. I explain- ed to him the diflerence between the religion of England and Rome ;and he was pleased to hear there were Christians, that did not worship images, or adore the V;rgin Mary. The ridicule of transubstan- tiation appeared very strong to him. Upon compa- ring our creeds together, I am convinced that if our friend Dr. had free liberty of preaching here, it would be very easy to persuade the gene- rality to Christianity, whose notions are very httle different from his. Mr. Whiston wonld make a very good apostle here. I don't doubt but his zeal will be 84 LETTERS much fired, if you communicate iJiis account to him ; but tell him, he must liist have the gift ol tongues, before he can possibly be of any use. — Malifnueti.sih is divided into as many sects as Chris! jauity, and the first institution as much nej^lected and obscured by interpretations. I cannot here iorbear reflecting on the natural inclination of mankind, to make mys- teries and novelties. — The ZeidJ, Kudi, .labari, etc.,. put me in mind of tlje Catholicks, Lutherans, and Calvinists, and are equally zealous against one an- other. Kutthe most prevailing opinion, if you search into the secret oi the effeudis, is plain Deism.This is indeed kept from the people, who are amused with a thousand different notions, according to the different interests of their preachers. — There are very few amonp;st them ( Achmet-beg denied there were any ) so absurd, cs to set up for wit, by de- claring they believe no God at all. And sir Paul Piycaat is mistaken ( as he commonly is ) in calling the sect MuteriU ( i. e. the secret with us ) Atheists, they being Deists, whose impiety consists in making a jest of their prophet. Achmet-beg did not own to rae that he was of this opinion, but made no scruple of deviating from some part of Mahomet's law, by drinking wine with the same freedom we did. Whcu I asked him how he came to alioA h mself that li berty ; he made answer, that all the creatures of God are good, and designed for the use of man : how- ever, that the prohibition of wine- was a very wise maxim, and meant for the common people, bei;>g the source of all disorders amongst them ; but that the prophet never designed to confine thos^ OK LADY :♦! O ?«' i' A G i: E. 8 5 that knew how to use it Aith moderation; never- theless, he said tliat scandal ought to he avoided, and that he never drank it in publick. This is the general way of thinking amongst them, and vei-;v' few forbear drinking wine, that are able to afford it. He assured me that, if I understood Arabick, I should be very well pleased with reading the al co- ran, which is so far from the nonsense we cLsige it with, that 'tis the purest morality, dehvered in the very best language. I have since heard impartial Christians speak of it in the same manner ; and I don't doubt but that all our translations are from copies got from the Greek 2)riests, who would not fail to falsify it with the extremity of malice. No body of men ever were more ignorant, or more cor- rupt; yet they differ so little from the Romish church, that I confess nothing gives me a greater abhorrence of the cruelty of your clergy, than the barbarous persecution of them, whenever they have been their masters, for no other reason than their not acknowledging the pope. The dissenting in that one article has got them the titles of Hereticks, and Schismaticks ; and, what is worse, the same treat- ment. I found at Philippopolis a sect of Christians that call themselves Paulines. They shew an old church, where they say St. Paul preached, and he .s their favourite saint, after the same manner that St. Peter is at Piome ; neither do they forget to give bim the preference over the rest of the apostles. But of all the religions I have seen, that of the Amounts seems to me the most particular^ they are aatives of Arnonntlich, the ancient Macedonia, imd 8 80 LETTERS still retain the courage and hardiness, thongh they : have lost the name oi Macedonians, being the best ; iniUtia in the Tilrkish empiire, and the only check upon the janizaries. They are foot soldiers ; we had a guard of them, relieved in every considerable tov\n we passed; they are all clothed and armed at their ■ own expence, dressed in clean white coarse cloth, ' carrying guns of a prodigious length, which they run with on their shoulders, as if they did not feel the weight of them, the leader singing a sort of a rude tune, not unpleasant, and the rest making np j the chorus. These people living betv/een Chiistians and Mahometans, and not being skilled in contro- versy, declare that they are utterly unable to judge which religion is best ; but, to be certain of not en- tirely rejecting the liulh, they very prudently fol- low both. They co to the mosques on fridays, and to the church on Sundays, sayiUg, for their excuse, that at the tlay of judgment they are sure of protection from the true prophet ; but which that is, they are not able to determine in this world. I believe there is no other race of mankind, who have so modest an opinion of their own capacity. These are the remarks I have made on the diver- sity of religions I have seen. I don't ask your par- don for the hberty I have taken in speaking of the lloraan. 1 know you equally condemn the quackery of all churches, as much as you revere the sacred truths, in which we both agree. Ton will expect I should say something to you of the antiqtiities of this country, but there are few remains of ancient Greece. We pa.ssed near the piece () F L A D Y I'a O N T A G U E. 87 of an arch v.hich is coruinoaly called Trajan's gate, from a supposition that he made it to shut up the passage over the mountains, between Sophia and Philippopolis. But I rather believe it the remains of some triumphal arch (though I could not see any inscription ) ; for if that passage had been shut op, there are many others that would serve for the march of an army ; and, notwithstanding the story of Baldwin, earl of Flanders, being overthrown in these straits, after he won Constantinople, I don't fancy the Germans would find themselves stopped by them at this day. 'Tis true, the road is now made ( ,vith great industry ) as commodious as possible for the march of the Turkish army ; there is not one ditch or puddle, between this place and Belgrade, that has not a large strong bridge of plauks built over it; but the precipices are not so fei lible as I had heard them represented. At these mountains we lay . at the little village Kiskoi, wholly inhabited by Christians, as all the peasants of Bulgaria are. Their liouses are nothing but little huts raised of dirt ba- ked in the sun, and they leave them and fly into the mountains, some months before the march of the Turkish army, who would else entirely ruin them, by driving away their whole flocks. — This precau- tion secures them in a sort of plenty, for such vast tracts of land lying in common, they have the liberty of owing what they please , and are generally very industrious husbandmen. X drank here several sorts or debcous wine. The women dress themselves in a great variety of coloured glass beads, and are not ugly, but of a lawney complexion. I have now told 8S LETTERS Tou all that is worth tellin°; you, and perhaps more, relating to my journey. When I am at Constantino- ple, I'll try to pick up some curiosities , and then you shall hear again from Yours, etc. XXVIIT. To THE CoUIfTESS OF R -. Adrianople, April i, O.S. 171 7. As I never can forget the smallest of your lady- ship's commands, my fir.t business here has been to enquire pfter the stuffs you ordered me to look for, without being able to lind A\hat you would like. The difference of the dress here and at Loudon is so great, the same sorts of things are not proper for caftans and nianteaux. However, I will not give over my search, but renew it again at Constan- tinople, though I have reason to believe there is nothing finer than what is to be found here, as this place is at present the residence of the court. The grand s.guior's eldest daughter was married some few days before I came L:ther, and upon that oc- casion the Turkish ladies display all their magnifi- cence. The bribe was coaducted to her husbandV house in very great splendour. — She is widow of the late vizier, who was killed at Peterwaradin, tliough that ought rather to be called a contract thau a marriage, since she never has lived with him ; bow- ever, the greatest part of his wealth is hers. He had the permission of visiting her in the seraglio j and. OF LADY MONT AG UK. 89 being one of the handsomest men in the empire, had very much engaged her affections. — When she saw this second husband, who is at least fifty, she could not forbear bursting into tears. He is in- deed a mau of merit, and the declared favourite of the sultan, (which they call mosayp^ but that is not enough to make him pleasing in the eyes of a ^irl of thirteen. The government here is entirely in the hands of the army. The grand slgnior, with all his absolufe power, is as much a slave as any of his subjetrts, .Tad trembies at a janizary's frown. — ■ Here is, in- dr^ed, a much greater appearance of subjection than amongst us ; a minister of state is. not s|>oke to, but upon the knee; should a reflection on his conduct be dropt in a coffee-house ( for they have s[)ies every where), the house would be razed to the ground, and perhaps the whole corapanv put to the torture. INo huzzaing mobs, sen-eless pamphlets, and tavern disputes abou\ politicks : A consequential ill that freedom draws ; ^ bad efiect — but from a noble. cauLt obeying my command ; but, out of respect to me, he w ould not punish him but by my order. Accordingly he came very gravely to me, to ask what should be done to him ; adding, by way of comphment, that, if I pleased, he would bring me his head. — This may give you some idea of the unlimited power of these fellows, who are all s.vorn brothers, and bound to revenge the injuries done to on^; another, whether at Cairo, Aleppo, or any part of the world. This inviolable league makes them so powerful, that the greatest man at court never speaks to them but in a flattering tone; and O F L A D Y M O N T A G U E. 93 in Asia, any man that is ricli is forced lo enroll himself a janizary to secure his eslJj^e. — But I have already said enough, and I dare swear, dear madam, that, by ths time, 'tis a very comfortable reflection to vou, that there is 110 possibilitv of your receiving such a tedious letter but o:ce in six months; 'tis that consideration has riven me the assurance of entertaining^ you so long, and will, I hoive, plead the excuse of, dear madam, Yours , etc. XXIX. To THE Countess of . Adrianople, April i, 0. S. 17 17. X \tisH to God, dear sister, that you were as re- gular in letting me know what passes on your side of tiie globe, as I am careful in endeavouring to amuse you by the account of all I see iiere, that I think worth your notice. Yon content yourself witli telling me over and over that the town is very dull : it may possibly be dull lo you, when every day dots not presput you with something new : but for me, that am in arrears at least two months news, all tliat seems very stale with you, would be vei-j- fresh and sweet here. Pray let me into more particulars, and I will try to awaken your gratitude by giving you a full and true relation of the novelties of this piuce, none of which would surprize you more than a sight of my person, as I am now in my Turkish habit, y^ though I believe you would be of my opinion, that 94 L E T T K R S 'tis admirably becoming. — I inti-ud to send you my picture ; in the ii^^an time accept of it bere. The first part of my dress is a pair of drawers, Tery full, that reach to my shoes, and conceal the legs more modestly than your petticoats. They are of a thin rose-coloured damask, brocaded with silver flowers. My shoes are of a white kid leather, em- broidered with gold. Over this hangs my smock , of a fine v\hite silk gauze, edged with embroidery. 1 his smock has wide sleeves hanging half way doAvn the arm, and ;s closed at the neck with a diamond button; but the shape and colour of the bosom is very well to be distinguished through it. — The antery is a waistcoat, made close to the shape, of white and gold damask, w.th very long sleeves falling back, and fringed with deep goid fringe, and should' have diamond or pearl but'ons. My caftan^ of the same etufi with my drawers, is a robe exactly fitted to my shape and reaching to my feet, with very long strait fallinjj; sleeves. Over this s the girdle, of about four lingers broad, which all that can afford it have en- tirely of diamonds or other precious stones ; those who will not be at that expence have it of exquisite embroidery on sattin ; but it must be fastened before with a clasp of diamonds. — The curdee is a loose robe they throw off, or put on, according to the weather, being of a rich brocade (mine is green and gold) ; either lined with ermine or sables ; the s eeves reach very little below the shoulders. The head-dress is composed of a cap called talpock, \vhich is, in winter, of fine velvet embroidered with pearls or diamonds, and, in summer, of a light shining silver ■ J or LADY M o "N r A (1 U i\ y : staff. This is fixed on one side of ibe head, hanginj; a iit'Je way down with a gold tasstd, and bound on, either with a circle of diamonds (as I "have seen sf- reral) or a rich embroidered handkerchief. On the other side of the head, the hair Is laid flat ; and ht re the ladios-are at liberty to shew their fancies ; some putting flowers, others a plnme of heron's feathers, and, m short, what they plea«e ; but the most general iashion is a large bouquet of jewels, made like na- tural flowers, that is, the buds of pearl, the roses of different coloured rubies, the j essamines of diamonds, the jonquils of topazes,etc. ,so well set and enamelled, 'tis hard to imagine any thing of that kind so beauti- ful. The hair hangs at its full length behind, divided into tresses braided with pearl or ribbon, which is always in great quantity. I never saw in my life sf> many line heads of hair. In one lady's I have counted a hundred and ten of the tresses, all natural : but it must be owned that every kind of beauty is more common h^e than with us. 'Tis surprizing to see a youiig woman that is not very handsome. They have naturally the most beautiful complexion in the world , and generally large black eyes. 1 can assure you with great truth, that the court of Eugland (though I Leheve it the fairest in Christendom) does not con- tain so many beauties as are under our protection here. They jrenerally shape their eye-brows, and both Greeks and Turks have the custom of putting round their eyes a black tincture, that, at a distance, or by candle-light, adds verv much to the blackness, of them. I fancy many of our ladies would be overjoyed to koow this secret; bat tis too visible by day. They g6 h £ i T E 11 S die their uaiis a rose colour ; but, I own, I cannot enough accustom myself to this fashion, to find any beauty in it. * As to their morality or good conduct, I can .say, like Harlequin, that 'tis just as 'tis vvith you; and the Turkish ladies don't commit one sin the less for not being Christians. Now that I am a little ac- quainted with tlieir ways, I cannot forbear admiring either the exemplary discretion or extreme stupidity of aU the writers that have given accounts of them, 'Tis very easy to see tliey have in reality more liberty tiian we have. No woman, of what rank soever, is permitted to go into the streets without two Tniirlins, one that covers her face all but her eyes ; and an- other that hides the whole dress of her head, and hangs half-way down her back. Their shapes are also wholly concealed by a thing they call a feri^ee, which no woman of any sort appears witl^out : this has strait sleeves, that reach to their fingers' ends, and it laps all round them, not unlike a riding-hood.. In winter, 'tis oi cloth, and in summer, of plain stuff or silk. You may guess then how effectually this disguises them, so thr.t there is no distinguishing the great lady from her slave. 'Tis impossible for the most jealous husband to know his wife, when he meets her, and no man dares touch or follow a v.'oman in the street. This perpetual masquerade gives them entire li- berty of following their inclinations without danger of discovery. The most usual method of intrigue i« to send an appointment to the lover to meet the lady at a .lew's shop, which are as notoriously convenient OF LADY MOINTAGUE. 97 as our Indian houses ; and yet, those who don^ make use of them do not scruple to go to buy penny- worths, and tumble over rich poods, which are chief- ly to be found aiuougst that sort of people. The great ladies seldom let their gallants know who they are; and 'tis so difllcult to IJnd it out, that they cau very seldo'm guess at her name, whom thev have corresponded with for above half a year together. You may easily imagine the number of lailhfiil wives very small in a country where they have nothing to fear from a lover's indiscretion, since we see many have the courage to expose themselves to that in this world, and all the threatened punishment of the next, which is never preached to the Turkish damsek. INeithei- have they much to apprehend from the re- sentment of their husbands, those ladies that are rich having all thdr money in their own hands. Upon the whole, I look upon the Turkish women as the only free people in the empire : the divan pays a respect to them ; and the grand signior him- self, when a pacha is executed, never violates the privileges of the haram (or womens apartment), ivhicli remains unsearched and entire to the widow, rhey are queens of their slaves, whom the bnsband lias no permission so much as to look upon, except t be an old woman or two that his lady chuses. Tis true, their law permits them four wives; but here is no instance of a man of quality that makes ise of this hberty, or of a woman of rank that ?vonld sufier it. When a husband happens to be inconstant (as those things will happen), he keeps lis mistress in a house apart, and visits her as ()8 LETTERS privately as he can, jnst as 'tis willi you. Amongst ail the great men here, I only know the tefterdar (i. e. treasurer) that keeps a number of she-slaves for his own tise (that is, on his ov^n side of the house; for a slave once giveu to 'serve a lady is entirely at her disposal), and he is spoke of as a. libertine, or what we should call a rake; and his wife won't see him, though she continues to live in his house. Thus you see, dear sister, tlie manners of mankind do not dif/er so widely as our vo^age- •writers would make us believe. Perhaps it would more entertaining to add a few surprizing customs of my own invention; but nothing .stems to me so agreeable as truth, and I believe nothing so ac- ceptable to you. I conclude therefore with repealing the great truth of my being, Dear sister, etc. XXX. To Me. Porr. Adi-iauople, April i, O. S. X DARE say you expect, at least, something very new in this letter, after I have gone a journey not undertaken by any Christian for some hundred years. The most remarkable accident that happened to me, was my being near overturned into the Hebrus; and, if I had much regard for the glories that one's name enjoys after death, I should certainly be sori^ for having missed the roijaantick conclusion of swim- iniag down the sanjf river ia which the musieal OF LADY MOISTAGUE. 99 head of Orpheus repeated verses, so maBy ages since: n Caput a cervice revuUum c Gurgite quum medio portans Oeagrius Hebrus « Volveret^, Kurydicen vox ipsa, et frigida lingua, « All I miseram Eurvdiceii I auima fuffiente vocabat; « Eurjdicen toto relerebaut flumine ripae. » Who J-moTss but some of your ri^jht wits might have found it a subject affording many poetical turns, jud have told the world in a heroick elegy, that, As equal -srere our souls, so equal were our fates. [ despair of ever hearing so manv fine things said 5f me, as so extraordinary a death would have given jccasion for. I am at this present moment writing in a house iituated on the banks of the Hebrus, which runs xnder my chamber window. My garden is fnii of 1 cypress trees, upon the branches of which se- '■eral couple of true turtles are saying soft thicga o one aPrOther from morning till night. How natu- •ally do boughs and -vows come into my mind at his minute! And must not you confess to my >raise, that 'tis more than an ordinary discretion, hat can resist the wicked suggestions of poetry, in : place where truth, for once, furnishes ail the ideas f pastoral ? The summer is already far advanced in lis part of the world ; and for some miles round Ldrianople, the who^e ground is laid out in gardens, ^' nd the banks of the rivers are set with rows of •* rnit-trees, under wliich ihe most considerable Turks too LETTERS tUvert themselves every evening, not with walking, that is not one of their pleasures; but a set party of them choose out a green spot, where the shade is very thick, and there they spread a carpet on which they sit drinking their coffee, and are generally at- tended by some slave with a line voice, or that plays on some instrument. Every twenty paces you may see one of these little companies, listening to the dashing of the river; and this taste is so universal that the very gardeners are not without it. I have often seen them and their children sitting on the banks of the river, and playing on a rural instru- ment, perfectly answering the description of the Sinc'ient Jest ul a ^ being composed of unequal reeds, with a simple but agreeable softness in the sonnd. Mr. Addison might here make the experiment he speaks of in his travels; there not being one instru- ment of musick among the Greek or Roman statues, that is not to be found in the hands of the people of this country. Ihe young lads generally divert themselves vNith making garlands for their favourite lambs, which I have often seen painted and adorned with flow'ers, lying at their feet, while they sung or played. It is not that they ever read romances: but these are the ancient amusemen's here, and as na- tural to them as cudgel-playing and foot ball to our Rritish swains ; the softness and warmth of the cli- mate forbidding all rough exercises, which were never so much as heard of amongst them, and naturally inspiring a laziness and aversion to labour, which the great plenty indulges. These gardeners are the only happy race of country people in Turkey. Thej OF LADY MONTAGUE. loi furnisli all the city with fruits and herbs, and seem to live very easily. They are most of them Greeks, and have little houses in the midst of their gardens, where their wives and daughters take a libertv not permitted in the town, I mean to go unveiled. These wenches are very neat and handsome, and pass ihcir time at their looms und^r the trees. I no longer look upon Theocritus as a romantick writer ; he has only _fiven a plain image of the way of life amongst the peasants of his countrv, who, hefore 02)pression had reduced them to want, were, I suppose, all employed as the better sort of them are now. I don't doubt, had he been horn a Ik-iton, but his Idyliiums had been fiiled with descriptions of threshing and churning, both which are unknown here, the corn being all trod out by oxen, and butter ( I speak it with sorrow ) unheard o.-. I read over your Homer here with an inlkiite pleasure, and lind several little passages explained, that I did not before entirely comprehend the beauty of ; many of the customs, and muth of the dress then in fashion, being yet retained. I don't \^onder to bnd more remains here qS nn age so distant, than is to be found in any other country, the Turks not taking that pains to introduce their o^vn manners, as has been generally practised by other nations that imagine themselves more pohte. It would be too tedious to you to point out all the passages that relate to present customs. Pmt I can assure you that the princesses and great ladies pass their time at their looms, embroidering veils avd robes, surrounded by their maids^ which are alu-nrs very numeron*, in the 9- ,o2 LETTERS same manncras we fin J Andromache and Helen descri- bed. The description of the belt of Menelaus exactly resembles those that are now worn by the .;reat men, fastened with broad goUlen clasps, and embroidered round with rich work. The snowy veil that Helen throws over her face is still fashionable ; and I never see half a dozen of old pachas ( as I do very often) With their reverend beards, sitting basking in the sun, but I r;*collect good king Priam and liis counsellors. Their manner of dancing is certainly the same that Diana is sung to have danced on the b-jnks of Eurotas. The great lady stdl leads the dance, and is followed by a troop of young gills who imitate her steps, and if she sings, make up the chorus. The tunes are extremely gay and hvely, yet wkh something in them wonderfully soft. Tjie steps are varied according to the pleasure of her tiiat leads the dance, but always in exact time, and infinitely more agreeable than any of our dances, at least in my opinion. I sometimes make one in the triin, but am not skilful enough to lead ; these are the Grecian dances, the Turkish being very cUfferent. I should have told you, in the llrst place, that the Eastern manners give a great light into many scripture passages, that appear odd lo us, their phrases being commonly what we should call scrip- ture language. The vulgar Turk is very different from what is spoke at court, or amongst the people of figure ; who always mix so much Arabick and Persian in their discourse, that it may very well be called another language. And 'tis as ridiculous lo make use of the expressions commonly used, in O F L A D Y M O N T A G U E. io3 speaking to a great man or lady, as it would be to speak broad Yorkshire, or Somersetshire, in the drawing-room. Besides this distinct:on, they have what they call the sublime, that is a style proper or poetry, and which is the exact scripture style. [ believe you would be pleased to see a genuine pxaiuple oi this; and I am very glad I have it in my power to satisfy your curiosity, by send ng you a faithful copy of the verses that Ibrahim pacha, the reigning favourite has made ior the young princess, bis contracted wife, whom he is not vet [)ermitted to visit without witnesses, though she is gone home to h's house. He is a man of wit aud learning ; and wliether or no he is capable of wTitiug good verse, you may be sure that, on such an occasion, he wcnld not want the assistance of the best poets in the rapire. Thus the verses may be looked upon as a sample of their finest poetry : and I don't doubt y^ou'll I.e of my mind, that it is most wonderfully resembling the song of Solomon, which also Avas ad- dressed to a royal br.de. Turkish 'verses addressed to the sultana, eldest daughter of sultan AcByit-r III. STANZA I. 1. The nightingale now wanders iu the vines; Her passion is to seek roses. 2. I went down to admire the beauty of the vines,- The sweetness of yoiu- charms has ravish 'd my soul.. ■3. Your eyes are black and lovely, But wild and disdainful as those of a stag ^ io4 LETTERS STANZA II. I. The -wished possession is delayed from day lo day, The cruel sultan Achmet will not permit me To see those cheeks more vermiUion than roses. ft. I dare not snatch one of your kisses. The sweetness of your charms has ravish'd my soul. a. Tour eyes are black' and lovely, But wild and disdainful as those of a stag. STANZA III. I. The wretched Ibrahim sighs in these verses, One dart from your eyes has pierc'd tliro' my heart. 1. All ! when will the hour of possession arrive? Must I yet wait a long time ? The sweetness of your charms has ravish 'd my soul. 3. Ah! Sultana .'stag-ey'd — an angel amongst angels! I desire, and my desire remains unsatisfied. Can you take delight lo prey upon my heart? STANZA IV. r. My cries pierce the heavens ! My eyes are without sleep ! Turn to me. Sultana — let me gaze on thy beauty. 1. Adieu — I go down to the grave. If you call me — I return. My heart is hot as sulphur; — sigh, and it will Came. 3. Crown of my life, fair light of my eyes ! My Sultana ! my princess ! I rub my face against the earth ; — I am drovfn'd in scolding tears — T rave ! Have you no compassion? will yov not turn to look upon me? OF LADY MONTAGUE. ,0.5 I have taken abundance of pains to get these ver- ses in a literal translation ; and if you were acquaint- ed with my interpreters, I might spare myself the trouble of assuring you that they have received no poetical touches from their hands. In my opinion, ( allowing for the inevitabJe faults of a j^rose trans- lation into a 'angnage so very different) there is a good deal of beauty in them. The epithet of" stag- ey'd, " ( thoui;h the sound is not verv agreeable in Enghsh ) pleases me extremely : and I think it a verT lively image of the lire and indifference in his mis- tress's eyes. — JMonsieur Boileau has very justly observed that we are never to judcie of the elevation of an expression in an ancient author by the sound it carries with us; since it may be extremely fine with them, when, at the same time, it appears lev or uncouth to us. You are so well acquainted with Homer, you cannot but have observed the same thing, and you must have the same indulgence for all oriental poetry. The repetitions 'at the end of the two first stanzas are meant for a sort of chorus, and are agreeable to the ancient manner of writing. The musick of the verses apparently changes in the third stanza, where the burden is altered : and I think he very artfully seems more passionate at the conclu- sion, as 'tis natural for people to warm themselves by their own chscourse, especially on a subject in which one is deeply concerned; 'tis certainly far more touching, than our modern custom of conclu- ding a song of passion, with a turn which is incon- sistent with it. The first verse is a description of the season of the year; all the country now being io6' LETTERS full of niglitingales, whose amours with roses, is an Arabian fable, as well known here, as any part of Ovid amongst us,* and is much the same as if an I'lnglish poem should begin, by saying, — « Now Philomela sings. » Or what if I turned the whole ijt ;, into the style of English poetry, to see how it would "jilook? STAIN ZA I. Now Philomel renews her tender sti-aln. Indulging all the night her pleasing pain ; I sought the groves to hear the wanton sing, There saw a iace moi e beauteous than the .spring. Your large stag-eves where thousand glories play As briglit, as Uvely, but as wild as they. STANZA II. In vain I'm promis'd such a heaveuly prize. All! cruel Sultan ! who delay's! ray joys ! Wliile piercing charms transfix my am'rous heart, I dare not snatch one kiss, to ease tlie smart. Those eyes like, etc. STANZA III. Your wretched lover in these lines complains ; From those dear beauties rise his killing pains. When will the hour of wish'd-for bliss arrive. Must I wait longer? Can I wait and live? Ah! bright Sui.TA:jfA ! maid divinely fair! Can you, unpitying. see the pains I bear? OF LADY MONTAGUE. ST AN /A IV. The heav'ns relenting hear my piercing cries, I loath the light, and sleep torsakes my eyesj Turn thee, Sultana, ere thy lover dies; Sinking to eartli, I sigh the last adieu ; Call me, my goddess, and my life renew. My queen! my angel! my fond heart's desire I ^ I rave — my bosom bums with heav'nly lire ! l- Pity that passion wliich thy charms inspire. j I have taken the liberty in the second verse, of following what I suppose the true sense of the au- thor, thoucih not hterally expressed, ¥>\ his saying he went down to admire the beauty of the vines, and her eharms ravished his sonl, I understand a poetical fiction, of having first seen her in a garden, v\here he was admiring the beauty of the spring. But I could not forbear retaining the comparison of her eyes with those of a stag, though perhaps the novelty of it may give it a burlesque sound in oui* language. I cannot determine, upon the whole, how well I have succeeded in the translation, neither do I think our English proper to express such violence of passion, which is very seldom felt amongst us. V»'e want also those compound words which are very frequent and strong in the Turkisl|, language. Yon see Iain pret.ty far gone in oriental learniug ; and, to say truth, I study verv hard. I wish my studies mav give me an occasion of entertaining your curiosity, which will be the utmost advantage hoped for from theru, by Tours, etc. ro8 LETTERS XXXI. To Mrs. S. C. Adrianople, April i, O. S. lif my opinion, dear S.,I ought rather to quarreP ^vith you for not answering my Nimegnen letter of august, till december, than to excuse my not writing again till now. I am sure there is on my side a very good excuse i^or silence, having gone such tiresome land-journeys, though I don't find the conclusion of them so bad as you seem to imagine. I am very easy here, and not in the solitude you fancy me. The great number of Greeks, French, English, and Ita- lians, that are under our protection, make their court to me from morning till night : and, I'll assure you, are, many of them, very fine ladies ; for there is no possibility for a Christian to Uve easily under this government, but by the protection of an ambas- sador — and the richer they are, the greater is their danger. Those dreadful stories you have heard of the plague, have very little foundation in truth. I own I have much ado to reconcile myself to the sound of a word, which has always given me such terrible ideas ; thou|;h I am convinced there is little more ia it, than in a fever. As a proof of this, let me tell you, that we passed through two or three towns most violently infected. In the very next house where we lay ( in one of those places ) two persons died of it. Lnckily for me, I wais so well deceived,, () v LADY MO N r A G U E. lo^ tliat I knew nothing of the matter; and I was made believe that our second cook had only a great cold. However, we left our doctor to ta.;e care of him, and yesterday thcA both arrived here in "ood bcaltl) ; and I am now let into the secret, that he ba« h*ad the plajjue. There are many that escape it, neither ii, the air ever infected. I am persuaded tbat k v>oiild be as easy a matter to root it out here, as out of Italy and I'rance ; but it does so little mischief, they are not \ ery solicitous about it, and are content to suffer this distemper, instead of our variety, which they are utterly unacquainted with. yJ propos or distempers, I am going to tell yon a thing, that will make you wish yourself here. The small-pox, so fata', and so general amongst us. is here entirely harmless, by the invention of ingraft- ing, which is the term thev give it. There is a set of old women, who make it their business to perform the operation, every antunin, in the month of Sep- tember, when the great heat is abated. People send to one another to know if any of their family has a mind to have the small-pox 5 they make parties for this purpose, and when they are met ( oorajnonly fifteen or sixteen together) the old woman comes with a nut-sheU full of the matter oi" the best sort of smaD-pox, and asks what vein you })l<'ase to have opened. She immediately rips open tha+ you offer to her, with a large needle (which gives you no more pain than a common scratch ), and j)Uts into tlic vein as much matter as can lie upon tiic head of her needle, and after that, binds up the Uttle wound with a hoUow bit of jhei!, and iu this maivter open* no ' LETTEF.S four or live veins. The Grecians have commonly the superstition of opening one in the middle of the forehead, one in each arm, and one on the breast, to mark the sign of the cross ; but this has a very ill effect, all these vsounds leaving little scars, and is not done by those that are not superstitious, who choose to have them in the legs, or that part of the arm that is concealed. The children or young patients play together all the rest of the d;iy, and are in perfectheahhto the el;^hth. Then the fever begins to seize them, and they keej) their beds two days, very seldom three. They have very rarely above twenty or thirty in their faces, which never mark, and in eight days time they are as well as before their iilness. Where they are wounded, there remains runniiig sores during the distemper, which I don't doubt is a great relief to it. Every year thousands undergo this operation, and the French ambassador says jjleasantly that they take the small-pox here by way of diversion, as they take the waters in olher countries. There is no example of any one that has died in' it, and you may believe I am well satisfied of the safety of this experiment^ since I intend to try it on my dear little son. I am patriot enough to take pains to briug this useful invention into fasliioii in England, and I should not fail to write to some of our doctors very particularly about it, if I knew any one of them that I thought had virtue enough to destroy such a considerable branch of their revenue, for the good of mankind. But that distemper is too beneficial to them, not to expose to all their resent- ment the hardy wight that should undertake to put OF LADY MONTAGlfE. m an end to it. Perhaps 11' I live to retain,! may, however, have the couia're to war with thera. L'pou this oc- casion, admire the heroism ia the lieart of Your friend, etc. etc. XXXII. To Mrs. T. Adrianople, April i ,0. S. 17 18. XcAN now teil dear Mrs. T , tliat I am safely ar- rived at the eail of ray very long journey. I will not tire youAvith the account of the many fatigues I have suffered. You would rather be informed of the strange things that are to be seen here ; and a letter out of Turkey, tliat has nothing' extraordinary in it, would ^- be as great a disaj.-pointment as my visitors will receive at London, if I return thither without any rarities to shew them. — "What shall I tell you of.' — You never saw camels in your life ; and perhaps the description of them will appear new to you; I can assure you, the first sight of them was so to me ; and though I have seen hundreds of pictures of those animals,! never saw any that was resembling enough to give a true idea of them. I am going to make a bold observation, and possibly a false one, because nobody has ever made it before me; but I do take them to be of the stag-liind; their le,s, bodies, and necks, are exactly shaped like them, and their colour very near the same. 'Tis true they arc much larger, being a great deal h gher than a horse, and so swift that, after the dofewt of Petei wnradin, they far ontran iia LETTERS the swiftest horses, and brought the first news of the loss of the battle to Rel{»rade. They are never tho- roughly tamed; the drivers take care to tie them one to another with strong ropes, fiJty in a string, led by an ass, on which the driver rides. I have seen three hundred in one caravan. They carry the third part more than a horse; but 'tis a particular art to load thcni,becauseof the i)unch on their bacl;s. They seem to me very ugly creatures, their heads being ill for- med and disproportioned to their bodies. They carry all the burdens ; and the beasts destined to the plough are buffaloes, an animal also you are unacquainted with. They are larger and more clumsy than an ox ; they have short thick black horns close to their heads, which grow turning backwards. They say this horn looks very beautiful when 'tis well polished. They are all black, with very short hair on their hides, and have extremely hltle white eves, that make them Jook like devils. The country people die their tails, and the hair of their forehead red, by way of ornament. Horses are not put here to any laborious work, nor are they at ail lit for it. They are beautiful and full of spirit, but generally little, and not .strong, as the breed of colder countries ; very gentle, however, with all their Vivacity, and also swift and surefooted. I have a Utile white iavourlte, that I wouhl not part with on any ter.iis; he prances under me with so much fire, yon would think that I have a great deal of courage to dare mount him ; yet I'll assure you I never rid a horse so much at my command, in my li'e. My side- saddle is the first that was ever seen in this part of the world, and is gazod at with as much wonder as OF" LADY M O N 1 A G 11 E. 1 1 3 ilie ship of Columbus in the (Irst discovery of Ameri- oa. Here are some little birds, held in a .sort of reli- f;ious reverence, and for that reason multiply pro- digiously ; turtles on the account of their innocence ; and storks, because they are supposed to make every winter the piiprinia{^e to xMecc^i. To say truth, they are the happiest subjVcts under the Turkish govern- ment, and are so sensible of their privileges, that they walk the streets without fear, and generall-y huild in the low parts of houses. Happy are those whose houses are so distinguished, as the vulgar Turks are prs- fectly persuaded, that they will not be, that rear, attacked either by fire or pestilence. I have the hap- piness of one of their sacred nest under my chamber window. Now I am talking of my chamber, I remember the description of the houses here will be as new to you, as any of the birds or beasts. I suppose you have read in most of our accounts of Turkey, that their houses are the most miserable pieces of building in the world. I can speak very learnedly on that subject, having been in so many of them ; and I assure you 'tis no snch thin^. We are now lodged in a palace belonging to the grand signlor. I really think the manner of building here very agreeahle, and proper fur the countrv. 'Tis true they are not at all solicitous to beautify the outsides of their houses, and they are genei'ally built with wood, which, I own, is the cause of many inconveniences; but this is not to be char- ged on the ill taste of the people, but on the oppres- sion of the government. Every house, at the death of its master, is at the grand signior's dispos?], and TO. ii4 LETTERS therefore no man cares to make a great expence, whicll he is not sure his family will be the better for, ^11 their design is to build a house commodious and that will last their lives ; and they are very ind:fferent if it falls down the year after. Every house, great and small, is divided into two distinct parts; which only join together by a narrow passage. The first house Las a large court before it, and open galleries all round it, which is to me a thing very agreeable. This gallery leads to all the chambers, which are com- monly large, and with two rows of windows, the first being of painted glass; they seldom build above two stories, each of which has galleries. The stairs are broad, and not often above thirty steps. This is the house belonging to the lord, and the adjoining one is called the haram, that is, the ladies' apartment ( for the name of seraglio is peculiar to the grand signior) ; it has also a gallery running round it towards the garden, to which all the windows are turned, and the same number of chambers as the other, but more gay and splet^did, both in painting and furniture. The second row of windows are very low, with grates like those of convents, the rooms are all spread with Persian carpets, and raised at one end of them ( my chambers are raised at both ends) about two feet. This is the sopha, which is laid with a richer sort of carpet, and all round it a sort of couch raised half 9 foot, covered with rich silk according to the fancy or magnificence of the owner. Mine is of scarlet cloth with a gold fringe; round about this are placed, stand- ing against the wall, two rows of cushions, the first ▼ery large, and th^ rest lijtle ones; and here the or LADY .^I () N T A G U E. 1 1 7 Turks display iLeir greatest map^niflceace. I'hev are geueraliy bix)cade, or embroidery of goU-wire iipoa ■white sattin. — Nothing can look more gay and splendid. — These seats .ire also so con^c•^ienf and easv, that I believe 1 slrill ncrer endure «diairs as long as 1 live. — The rooms are low,\vhidi I think no fault, and the ceilin ' is always of \Yood, gene- rally inlaid or painted with flowers. Thev open in many places with folding doors, and serve for cabinets, I think, more conveniently than ours. Be- tween the windows are little arcii< s to set pots of perfume, or baskets oi flowers. Kut what pleases me bost^^is the fashion of having marble fc^untams in the lower part of the room, wh.ch thi'ow up several spouts of water, giving, at the same time, an agreeable coolness, and a pleasant dashing souad, falling from one bason to another. Soru' of these are very magni- ficent. Each house has a bagnio, which consists ge- nerally in two or three little rooms leaded on tbe top, paved with marble. wJtb basons, cocks of water, and all oouveiiiencies for either hot or cold baths. You will perhaps be surpri.^ied at an account so different from what you have been entertained with by the common voyage-writers, who are ^eIy fond of speaking of what they don't know. It must be under a very particular character, or on some extraor- dinary occasioi/, that a Christian is admitted into the house of a man of qualify, and their h^rams are always forbidden ground. Thus they can only speak of the outside, which makes no great appearance; and the womens apartments are always budt backward, removed from sight^ and have no other prospect itG LETTERS than the gardens, Avhicli are inclosed with very high >vall.s. There is none of our parterres in thera •, l)ut they are planted with high trees, whieh give au agreeable shade, and, to my fancy, a pleasing view. In the midst of the garden is the JdencJik, thai is,' a large room, commnn'y beautJled with a line foun- tain in the midst of it. It is raised nine or ten steps, and enclosed with gilded lattices, round which vines, jessamines, and lioney-suckles, make a sort of greeu wa1!. Large trees are planted round this place, ^^himl to all inv otlur r.ii-jlish coiTcspondeuts, l)v the last sliiji, and only lua\cn can tell when I shall have another opjiortu- 7ii!y of sendiuj:; to you ; hut I cannot lorhear to writ* iigain, though perhaj)s my letter niav lie upon tuv hanils these tvvo months. To confess the truth, luv head is so full of my entertainnii^nt yesterdsv. that 'tis ahsoiutelv necessary, for mv own repose, to g ve it some vent, ^^ithout farther preface, I will then hegin my story. I was iTivited to dine with the grand viriers ladv, and it was wi«h a great^ deal of pleasure I prepared myself for an entertainment, ^^hich was never hefore given to any Christian. I thought I should very little •atisfy her curiosity (^ which I did not douht was a considerahle motive to the invitation), by going in a dress she was used to see, and therefore dressed juyself in the court habit of Vienna, which is much more niagniliceut than ours. However, I chose to go ifUO£;mto, to avoid any disputes about ceremony, and went in a Turkish coach, only attended by my woman that held up my train, and the lireek la'as surrounded by a parcel of boys, iu white, .at going near, I saw they were crusted with Japan china, which has a very heautiful effect. In the midst hung a vast lamp of silver gilt; hesides which I do verily believe there was at least two thousands of a lesser size. This must look very f;lo- rious when they are all lighted; but being at night, no women are suffered to enter. Under the large lamp is a great pulpit of carved wood gilt, and, just by, a fountain to wash, which you know is an essen- tial part of tiieir devotion. In one coiner is a bttle gallery inclosed with gilded lattices for the grand sigtiior. At the upper end a large niche, very like an altar, raised two steps, co\ered With gold bro- cade, and ;;tandlng before it two silver gilt candle- sticks, the height of a man, and in them wax candles as thick as a man'.s wrist. The outside of the mosque is adorned with towers vastly high, gilt on the top, from whence the imaums call the people to prayers. I had the curiosity to go up one of them, which is contrived so artfully as to give surprize to all that se years old, sits near his fatlier when he gives au- dience ; he is a handsome boy, but })robably wili not immediately succeed the sullan, there being two sons of sultan Mustapha (his eldest brother) remaiuino ; the eldest about twenty years old, on whom the hopes of the peo!>le are fixed. This reign has been bloody and avarltious : I am apt to believe they are very imjjatieut to see the end of it. I am, Sir, Tours, etc. etc. P. S. I will write to you agaiu from Constan- tinople. XXXV. To THE Abbot. . Constantinople, Mai 29, O. S. J. HA YE had the advantage of very fine weather all my journey, and as the summer is now in its beauty, \ O I LADY MO N r A G U E. i 33 I enjoyed the pleasure of fine prospecU: and the meadows being full of all sorts of garden flo\Ners, and sweet herbs, luy berlin perfumed the air as it pressed theui. Ihe grand signior furnished us with thirty covered waggons for our baggage, and five coaches of the country for my women. We found the road full of the great spahis and their ecjuipages coming out of Asia to the war. 'lhe\ al- ways travel with tents : but I chose to lie in houses all the way. I will not trouble yon with the names of the villages we passed, in which there was nothing remarkable, but at Ciorley, where there was a conac, or iitde seraglio, built for the use of the grand si- gnior when he goes this road. I had the curiosity to view all the apartments destined for the ladies of hi« court. They were in the midst of a thick grove of trees, made fresh by fountains : but I v\as most sur- prized to see the walls almost covered with little distichs of Turkish verse, writ with pencils. I made my interpreter explain them to me, and I found several of them very well turned, though I easily believed him that they had lost much of iheir beauty in the uanslation. One was literally thus ia Enghsh : We come into this world : we lodge and we depart; He never goes tliat's lodg'd witliin my heart. The rest of our journey was through line painttd meadows, by the side of the sea of Marmoia, the ancient i^rojMantis. We lay the next night at Selivre*, anciently a noble town. — It is now a good sea- |>ort, and ueatly built enough, and has a la-idge of 1 1 t34 LETIi^RS thirtv-tvvo arclies. Here is a famous aiu'eul Greek church. — I had given oae of my coaches to a Greek lady, v>ho desu^ed ihe convenicncy of travel- ling with me ; she desigued to pay her devotions, and I was glad of the opportniiiity of going with her. 1 found itanill-huilt edifice, set out with the same sort of ornaments (but less rich) as the Roman cathohck churches. They shewed me a saint's body, where I threw a piece of money, and a picture of the Til gin Mary, drawn by the hand of St. l.nke, very little to the credit of his painting ; but, however, the finest inadona of Italy is not more famoas for her mi- racles. The Greeks have a monstrous laste in their pictures, which, for more fiaery, are always drawn upon a gold ground. You may imagine what a good air this has ; but they have no notion either of shade or proportion. They have a bishop here, who offi- ciated in hiS purple rolie, and sent me a candle al- most as big as myself for a present, when I was at ray lodging. We lay that night at a town called I')ujuk Cekmege, or great bridge : and the night following at Kujuk Cekmege, or little bridge, in a very plea- sant lodging, formerly a monastery of dervises, ha- ving before it alargecourt, encompassed with marble cloisters, with a good fountain in the middle. Ihe prospect from this place, and the gardens round it, is the most agreeable I have seen, and shews that inonks of all religions know how to choose their re- tirements. 'Tis now belonging to a hogia or school- master, who teaches boys here. I asked him to shew Kie his own ajiartment, and was surprized to see him point to a tail eypress-tree in the garden, on the Ol- LADY MONTAGUE. i^5 top of which was a place for a bed for himself, and a little lower, one for his wife and two children, who slept there every uight, I was .so much diverted wilh tlie fancy, I resolved to examine liis neit nearer: but after going up lilty steps, I found I had still Ijfty to go up, and then I jnust climb from branch to branch, with some hazard of my neck : I thought it therefore the best way to come dovn again. We arrived the next day at Constantinople, but I can yet tell you very little of it, all my time having been taken up with receiving visits, which are, at least, a very good enttrtainment to the eyes, the young women being ail beauties, and their beauly iiighlv improved by the high taste of their dress. ' Our palace is in Pera, which is no more a suburb of Constantinople, than Westminster is a suburb to London. All the ambassadors are lodged very near each other. One part of our house shews us the port, the city, and the seraglio, and the distant hills of Asia; perhaps, all together, the most beautiful pro- spect in the world. A certain French author says Coustantluople it twice as big as Paris. Mr. W y is uuwilhng tr» own 'tis bigger than London, though I confess it appears to me to be so, but I dont believe 'lis so populous. The burying fields about it are certaiujy much larger than the whole city. 'Tis surprizing what a vast deal of land is lost this way in Turkey. Sometimes I have seen burying places of several miles, belonging to very inconsiderable villages, which were formerly great towns, and retain no i3^ LETTERS other mark of their ancient grandeur than this dis- mal one. On no occasion do they ever remove a stone that serves for a monument. Some of them are costly enough, being of very fiue marble. They set up a pillar with a carved turban t on the top of it to the memory of a man ; and as the turbants, by their different shapes, shew the quality or profession, 'tis in a manner putting up the arms of the deceased. Besides, the pillar commonly bears an inscription in gold letters. The ladies have a simple pillar, without oth«r ornament, except those that die unmarried, ■who have a rose on the top of their monument. The. sepulchres of particular families are railed in, and planted round with trees: those of the sultans, and some great men, have lamps constantly burning in them. When I spoke of their religion, I forgot to men- tion two particularities, one of which I had read of, but it seemed so odd to me, I could not believe it; yet 'tis certainly true that when a man has divorced his wife in the most solemn manner, he can take her again upon no other terms, than permitting another man to pass a night with her: and there are some examples of those who have submitted to this law, rather than not to have back their beloved. The other point of doctrine is very extraordinary. Any woman that dies unmarried is looked upon to die in a state of reprobation. To conlirm this belief, they reason that the end of the creation of woman i» to enorease and multiply, and that she is only pro- perly employed in the works of her calling, when she is bringing forth children or taking care of them, or LADY M (i.N T A G D E. 1 3; which are all the virtues that God expects from her. And inileed their way of life, ^^hich shuts them out of all publiek commerce, does not permit them any other. — Our vulgar notion, that they don't own wom.-n to have any souls, is a mi&lake. 'Tis true . they say they are not of so elevated a kind, and therefore must not hope to i)e admitted into the paradise appointed for the men, who are to be en- tertained by celestial beauties. But there is a place of happiness destined for souls of the inferior order, where all good women are to be in eternal bUss. ivlauv of them are very superstitious, and will not remain widows ten days, for fear of dying in the reprobate state of a useless creature. Rut those that like their liberty, and are not slaves to their re- ligion, content themselves with marrying when they are afraid of dying. This is a piece of theology very different from that which teaches nothing to be more acceptable to God, than a vow of perpetual virginity : which divinity is most rational, I leave you to determine. I have already made some progress in a coilectlon of Greek medals. Here are several professwl antiqua- ries, who are ready to serve any body that desire* them. Rut you cannot imagine how they stare in aiy face, when I enquire about them, as if nobody was permitted to seek after medals, till ihey were grown a piece of antiquity themselves. I have got some very valuable ones of the Macedonian kings, particularly one of Perseus, so lively, I fancy I can see all his ill qualities in his face. I have a p«>rphyry head finely cut, of the trup Greek scalptr.rt-: Iv.ii i53 LETTERS nlio it represents is to be f^uesscd at by the learned Avhea I return. For you are not to suppose these antiquaries (who are all Greeks) know any thin^; ITieir trade is only to sell : they have correspondents at Aleppo, Grand Cairo, in Arabia and Palestine, who send them all they can find, and very often j»reat heaps that are only lit to melt into pans and kettles. They get the best price they can for ;iny of them, without knowing those that are valuable from those that are not. Those that pretend to skill, generally find out the imap^e of some saint in the medals of the Greek cities. One of them shewing me the figure of a Pallas with a victory in her hand on a reverse, assured me it was the Virgin holding a crucifix. The same man offered me the head of a Socrates, on a sardonix, and to enhance the value, gave him the title of Saint Augustin. I have bespoke a mummy, which, I hope, v/ill come safe to my hands, notwithstanding the mis- fortune that befel a vei'y fine one designed for the king of Sweden. He gave a great price for it, and the Turiis took it into their heads, that he must have some considerable project depending upon it. They fancied it the body of God knows who, and that the state of their empire mystically depended on the conservation of it. Some old prophecies were remembered upon this occasion, and the mummy committed prisoner to the seven towers, where it has remained under close confinement ever since. I dare not try my interest in so considerable a point as the release of it ; but I hope mine wall pass without exa- mination. — I can tell you nothing more at present OF LADY MONTAGUE. iSg of this famous city. When I have looked a little »bout mc, you shall hear from me a;;ain. I am, Sir, Yours, etc. XXX Y I. To Mr. Pope. Belgrade village, June 17, O. S. JL HOPE, before this time, you have received two o» three of my letters. I had yours but yesterday, though dated the third of fehruai-y, in which yon suppose me to be dead and buried. I have already let you know that I am st.ll alive; but. to say truth, I look upon my present circumstances to be exactly tlic same as those of departed .spirits. The heats of ( ons- tantinople have driven me to this place, whirli per- fectly ans\^ers the description of the elysian iJelds. I am in the middle of a wood, consist.ncr chiefly of fruit trees, watered bv n vast number of fonntains famons for the exceikncy of their water, and d.vided into many shady walks, upon short grass that seems ta me artificial, but, I am assured, is the pure work of nature — within view of the black sea. from whence we perpetually enjoy the refreshment of cool breezes that make us insensible of the heat of the summer. The village is onh inhabited by the richest amongst the Christians, who meet every night at a fountain, forty paces from my house, to sing and d.moe. The beauty and dress of the women exactly resemble the ideas of the ancient nymphs, as they are given us by the representations of the poets and painters. I'.uf i4o LETTERS what persuades me more fully of my decease, is the situation of my own mind, the profound ignorance I am in of what passes amouff the living ( which onlv comes to me by chance ), and the great cahnness with which I receive it. Yet I have still a hankering after mv friends and acquaintances left in the world, according to the authority of that admirable author. That spirits departed are wonderous kind To friends aud relations left hehiud, WTiick ao body can deny. Of which solid truth I am a dead instance. I think Virgil is of the same ofuuion, that in human souls there will still be some remains of liuman passions i Cv,TX non ipsae iu morte relinquuut. And 'tis very necessary, to make a perfect elyslum, that there should be a river Lethe, which I am not so happy as to find. To say truth, I am soraelimes veiy weary of the singing and dancing, and sunshine, and wish for tiie smoke and impertinences in which vou toil; though 1 endeavour to persuade myself that 1 live in a more agreeable variety than you do; and that monday, setting of partridges; tuesday, reading English ; Wednesday, studying in the Turkish language ( in which, by the way, I am already very learned ) ; thursday, classical authors ; friday, spent in writing ; Saturday, at my needle, and sunday. ad- mitting of visits and hearing oi musick, is a better way of disposing of the week, than moiiday, at thfi drawing-room ; tuesday, lady Mohuu's ; Wednesday, at the opera ; thursday, the play ; friday, Mrs. Chet^ or LADY MONT A OLE. 141 wynd's, etc., a perpetual ronntl o* hearing tlie same scandal, aud seeing the same ioUies acted over and over, which here affect me no more than they do other dead people. lean now hear of displeasinij filings with pity and without indignation. The reflection on rlie great gnlph between yon and me cools .ill news that comes hitlier. I can neither lie sensibly tonched \\itJi joy or grie/, when I consider that, ])oss.bly. the cause of either is removed before the letter comes to my hands. Rut, as 1 said before, this indolence does not extend to my few friendships : I am still warmly sensible of yours and Mr. Congreve's. and desire to live in your remembrance, though dead to all the world beside. I am, etc. etc. XXX Til. To THE Lady . Belgrade village, June 17, O. S. J. HEARTILY beg your ladyship'spardon; but I really could not forbear laughing heartily at your letter, and the commissions you are pleased to honour me with. You desire me to buy vou a Greek slave who is to be mistress of a thousand good qnalijies. The Greeks are subjects, and not slaves, those who are to be bought in that manner, are either such as are taken in war. or stolen by the Tartars, from Russia. Circass!a,or Georgia, and are such miserable aukward poor wretches, von would not th;nk any of them wortliT to he ronr housemaids. 'Tis true that manv 142 LETTERS thousands were taken iu the 3Iorea ; but tLey have been most of them redeemed by the charitable con- tributions of the Christjaas, or ransomed liy tlieir own relations at Venice. The line slaves that wait upon the great ladies, or serve the pleasures of the frrcat men, are all bought at the age of eight or nine years old ,and educated witti ;;reat care, to accomplish them in singing, dancing, embroidery, etc. Thev aM commonly Circassians, and their patron never sells them, except it is as a punishment for some very great fault. If ever they grow weary of them, they either present them to a friend, or give them their freedom. Those that are exposed to sale at the' raai-kets, are always either guilty of some crime, or so entirely worthless, that t'ley are of no use at all. I am afraid you will doubt the truth of this account, which, I own, is very different from our common notions iu England; but it is no less truth for all that. — Your who'e letter is full of mistakes from one end to the other : I see you have taken your ideas of Turkey from that worthy author Dumont, who has writ with equal ignorance and confidence. 'Tis a '(particular pleasure to me here, to read the voyages to the Levant, which are generally so far removed from truth, and so full of absurdities, I am very well diverted with them. They never fail giving you aja account of the women, whom 'tis certain they never saw, and talking very wisely of the genius of the men, into whose company they are never admitted; and very often describe mosques, which they dared not eveu peep into. The Turks are very proud, and will not coavevse with a stranger thev are not assu Oi- LADY MO'TAGIJE, 143 red is oousiderable in his own country. I speak of llie men of distinction ; for.ns to the ordinary fel!ov\s, you may imagine what ideas their conversation can give of the general e^cnius of the people. As to the balm of Mecca, I will certainly send von some; but it is not so easily got as vou supnose it and 1 cannot in conscience advise you to make ns<» of it. I know not how it comes to have such univei- sal applause. All the ladies of my acquaintance at London and Vienna, have begged me to send pots ol. it to them. I have had a present ol a small quantit-v ( which I'll assure you is very valuable) of the Lest sort, and withgreatjoyappliedittomy face. expecting some wonderful effect to my advantage. The next morning the change indeed was wonderful ; mv face was swelled to a very extraordinary size, and all ovei as red as my lady H 's. It remained in this h.- mentable state three days, during which, you may be sure, I passed my time very ill. I believed it would never be otherwise; and to add to my mortification, M. W y reproached my indiscretion without ceasing. However, my face is since in statu quo\ nay, I am told by the ladies here, that 'tis much mended by the operation, which I confess I cannot perceive in my lookiug-gJass. Indeed, if one v as to form an opinion of this balm by their faces, one should think vei-y well of it. They all make use of it, and have the loveliest bloom in the world. For mv part, I never intend to endure the pain of it again; let my complexion take its natural course, and decay in its own due time. I have very little esteem for inedicines of this nature; but do as you please, «4i LETTERS madam ; only lememLer, before you use it, that your lace will not be such as you will care to shew iu the draAviug^-room for some da\s after. If one was to believe the women in ih.s cowulry, there is a surer way of making one's self beloved than by becoming handsome, though you know that's our method. Rut tliey pretend to the knowledge of secrets that, by way of enchantmen!, give them the eulire empire over whom they please. For me, who am not very apt to believe in wonders, I cannot find faith lor this. I dis- puted the point last night with a lady who reaily talks very sensibly on any other sub.ect; but she was downright angry with me, in that she did not perceive she had persuaded me of the truth of forly stones she told me of this kind; and, at last, men- tioned several ridiculous marriages, that there could be no other reason assigned for. I a,ssured her that in England, where we were entirely ignorant of all magick, where the climate is not half so warm, nor the women half so handsome, we were not without our ridiculous marriages- and tha^ \.e did not look upou it as any thng supernatural, when a man played the fool lor the .-ake of a woman. Rut my arguments could not convince her aframst, as she said, her certain knowledge. To this she added that she scrupled making use of charms herself, but that she could -jo .t whenever she pleased ; and, sfaring me in the face, said, with a very learned air, that no euchautmenls would have their effects 'ipon me. and that there were some people exempt irom their power, but verv iew. You may imag.ne how 1 laughed at this discourse; but all the women are of the same opi- O I- LADY :M O X T A G U E. 145 nion. — They doa't pretend: fo any commerce with the devil, but only that there are certain composi- tions adapted to inspire love. If one could send over a ship-load of them, I fancy it would be a very quick way of raising an estate. What ..ould not some ladies of our acquaintance give for such merchandize? Adieu, my dear lady — I cannot conclude ray letter With a subject that affords more delightful scenes to the imagfination. I leave yon to figure to yourself the extreme court that will be made to me at my return, if mv travels should furnish me with such a useful piece of learning. I am, dear madam, Yours, etc. etc. XXXYIII. To Mrs. T . Pera of Constantinople, January 4, O- S. 1am infinitely obliged to you, my dear Mr?. T , for vour entertaining letter. You are the only one of mv correspondents that have judged right enough, to th'nk I would gladly be informed of the news araonpfst you. All the rest of them tell me, almost ia the same words, that they suppose I knov evrry thinij. Why they are pleased to suppose in this man- ner, I can guess no reason, except they are persuaded that the breed of Mahomet's pigeon sldi subsists in this country, and that 1 receive snpernr.tural intelli- gence. I wish I could return your goodness vfilh some diverting accounts from hence : but I know not what part of the scenes here wonld gratify your curiosity 4|Dr whether you ha\e any curiosity at ,46 LliTTKllS all for things so far dlstaat. To say the truth, I am, at this present writing, not very much turned for the recollection of what is diverting, my head being wholly filled with the preparations neces- sary for the encrease oP my iaraily, which I expect every day. You may easiJy guess at my uneasy si- tuation. But I am, however, conforted in some de- gree, by the glory that accrues 1o me from it, and a reflection on the contempt I should otherwise fall under. — You won't know what to make of tliis speech; but in this country 'tis more despicable to be married and not fruitful than 'tis with us to be fruitful before marriage. They have a notion that whenever a woman leaves off bringing forlh children, 'tis because she is too old for that business, v^hate- ver her face says to the contrary. This opinion makes the ladies here so ready to make proofs of their youth ( which is as necessary in order to be a rece ved beauty, as it is to shew proofs of nobihty to bf ad- mitted knights of Mal»^a ) that they do not content themselves with using the natural means, but fly to all sorts of quackeries to avoid the scandal of being past 'child-bearing, and often kill themselves by them. Without any exageration^ ail the women of my ac- quaintance have twelve or thirteen children, and the old ones boast of having had five and twenty or thirty a-piece, and are respected according to the number they have produced. — When they are with child, 'tis their common expression to say, they hope Gc)d will be so merciful as to send them two this time ; and when I have asked them sometimes how they expected to provide for such a flock ns flp^y, desire. O K LADY MO N T A (; U K. 147 they answer that the plague will cerlainly kill half of thcra; .-.hich indeed generally happens without much coucern to tile parents, who are satislied with the vanity of having brought forth so plentifull, . The I'rench ambassadress is foi'ced to comply with tills fashion as well as myself. She has not been here much above a year, and has laiu in once, and is bi«» > again. AVhat is most wonderrnl,is the exemption thev seem to enjoy from the curse entailed on the sex. They see all company on the day of their delivery, and at ihe fortnight's end return visits, set out in their jewels and new clotlies. I wish I mav find the influence of the climate in this particular ; but I fear 1 shall continue au English woman in this affair, as well as I do in my dread of lire and the plague, ^^hich are two things very l.ttle feared here. Most faiuilies have had their houses burnt down once or twice, occasioned bv their extraordinary way of warming themselves, which is neither by chiinnies nor stoves, but by a certain machine called a tendonr^ the height of two feet, in the form of a table, covered with a line carpet or embroidery. This is made ouly of wood, and they put into it a small quantity of hot ashes, and sit with their legs under the carpet. At this table they vsork, read, and veiy often sleep ; and, if they chance to dream, kick down the tendouT\, and tlie hot ashes commonly set the house on lire. There were fi\ e hundred houses burnt in this manner about a fortnight ago, and I have seen several of the owners since, who s'-em not at all moved at so common a misfortune. They put their goods into a bark, and 6>e their houses burn with great philosophy, their i48 LETTERS persons being very seldom endangered, having no stairs to descend. But having entertained you with things I don't like, 'tis but just I should tell you something that pleases me. The climate is delightful in the extremest degree. I am now sittiag,this present fourth of January, with the windows open, enjoying the warm sbine of the sun, while you are freezing over a sad sea-coal lire ; and my chamber is set out with carnations, roses, and jonquils, fresh from my garden. I am also char- xned with many points of the Turkish law, 1o our shame be it spoken, better designed, and better executed, than ours; particular. y, the punishment of convicted liars (triumphant crbninals in our coun- try, God l^nows). They are burnt in the forehead with a hot iron, when they are proved the authors of any notorious /alsehootls. How many white fore- heads should we see dsll inured I how many fine gentle- men would be forced to wear their v^'igs as low as their eye-brows, were this law in practice with us ? I should go on to tell you many other pa rl.-i of justice, but I mast send for mv midwife. XXXI K. To THE CoHNTESS OF . Pera of Constantino])Ie, March xo, O, S. ± HAVE not written to you, dear sister, these many months — a great piece of self-denia!. But I know not where to direct, or what jiart of the world you are in. I have received no letter from vou since than 01- LADY iMOXTAGUE. X49 short note of april last, in which yoa tell me that you are on the point of leavincr England, and promise ras a direction for the jilace you stay in ; but I have in vain expected it till noiv, end now I only learn from the gazette, that you are returned, which induces me to venture this letter to yonr house at London. I had rather ten of my letters shoiJd he lost than you imagine I don't write : and I think it is hard fortune, if one in ten don't reach you. However, I am resolved to keep the copies, as testimonies 0/ my incUuation to give you, to the utmost of my j)Ower, all the diverting part of my travels, while vou are exeniipt front all the fatigues and inconvenienci^s. In the first place then, I wish you jov of your niece ; for I was brought fb bed of a daughter ( i ) five weeks ago. I don't mention this as one of my divert- ing adventures : though I must own that it is not half so mortifying here as in England, there being as much difi'ercnce as there is between a little cold in the head which sometimes happens here, and the consumption coughs so common in London. — No body keeps their house a month for lying-in ; and I am not so fond of our customs as to retain them when they are not necessai-y. I returned my visits at three weeks end, and about four days ago crossed the sea which divides this place from Constantinople, to make a new one, where I had the good fortune to pick up many curiosities. I went to iee the sul- tana Hallten, the favonrite of the late emperor Mas- tnpha, who, you know, or perhaps you don'f know, ( i) The present ronn'cs? of Bute. ^3 1 5o LETTERS was deposed by his brother, the reigning sultan, and died a few weeks after, being poisoned, as it was genei'ally beheved. This lady was, immediately after his death, saluted with an absolute order to leave the seraglio, and choose herself a husband among the great men at the Porte. I suppose you may im*' gine her overjoyed at this proposal. — Quite the contrary. — These women, who are called and esteem themselves queens, look upon this liberty as the greatest disgrace and affront that can happen to them. She threw herself at the sultan's feet, and begged him to poignard her rather than use his brother's widow with that contempt. She represented to him, in agonies of sorrow, that she was 2)rivileged from this misfortune by having brought five princes into the Ottoman family; but all the boys being dead, and only one girl surviving, this excuse was not received, and she was compelled to make her choice. She chose Bekir effendi, then secretary of state, and above four-score years old, to convince the world that she firmly intended to keep the vow she had made of never suffering a second husband to ap- proach her bed; and since she must honour some subject so far^s to be called his, she would choose him as a mark of her gratitude, since it was he that had presented her, at the age of ten ye»rs, to her last lord. Rut she has never permitted him to pay her one visit, though it is now fifteen years she has been in his house, where she passes her time in unin- terrupted mourning, with a constancy very little known in Christendom, especially in a widow of one nnd twenty, for she is now but thirty-six. She has O V LADY M O N T A CUE. i 5i no black eunuclis for her guard, her husband beino obliged to respect her as a queen, and not to enquire at all into what is done in her apartment. I was led into a large room, with a so/a the whole length of it, adorned with wh te marble pillars like a ruelle^ covered with pale blue figured velvet, on a silver ground, with cushions ol the same, wb«re I was desired to repose t 11 the su tana appeared, who had eontr.ved this manner of recept.on to avoii ail my tenderness for her wais hardly enough to « make me preserve my life. When I left him, I pas- « sed a whole twelvemonth without seeing the light. « Time has softened my despair ; yet T now pass some a days every week in tears, devoted to the memory « of my sultan. « There was no affectation in these words. It was easy to see she was in a deep melan- choly, though her good humour made her willing to divert me. She asked me to walk in her garden, and one of her slaves imraeJlately brought her n pelisse of rich OF LADY MONTAGUE. i35 brocade lined with sables. I waited on her into the garden, which had nothing in it remarkable but the fountains •, and from thence she sheued n;«' ali her apartments. In her bed-chamber, her toilet was dis- played, consisting of two looking-glasses, tise frames covered with pearls, and her night talpoche set with bodkins of jewels, and near it three vests of fine sa- bles, every one of which is at least worth a thonsand dollars ( two hundred pounds English money). I don't doubt but these rich habits were purpose y placed in sight, though they seemed negligently thrown on the sofa. When I took my leave of hei, I was complimented with perfumes, as at the grand vizier's, and presented with a very fine embroidered handkerchief. Her slaves \\ere to the number of thirty, besides ten Little ones, the eldest not above seven years old. These were the most heautlful giils I ever saw, all r.chly dressed; and I observc«l that the sultana took a great deal of pleasure in these lovely children, .vhich is avast expence : for there is not a handsome girl of that age to be bought under a hun- dred pounds sterling. They wore little garlands of flowers, and their own hair braided, which was alj their head-dress; but their habits ^^ere all of gold staffs. These .served her coffee kneehng, brought ■water when she washed, etc. — 'Tis a great part of the business of the older slaves to take care of these youHg girls, to icarn them to embroider, and to serve them as carefully as if the\ were children t'f the fa- mily. Now do "vou imagine I have entertained you all this while with a rc'atjon that has, at least, re- ceived many embellishments from ray hand. This, ,56 LETTERS U you will say, is but too like the Arabian tales. — ll These euibro.dered napkins! and a jewel as large li as a turkey's egg! — You forget, dear sister^ those F very talcs were written by an autlior of this country, ' and (excepting the enchantments) are a real repre- sentation of the manners here. "VVe travellers are in very hard circumstances. If we say nothing but what has been said before us, we are dull, and w» have observed nothing. V we tell any thing new, we are laughed at as fabulous and romantick, not allowing either for the difference of ranks, which afford dif- ference of company, or more curiosity, or the change of customs that liappeu every twenty years in every country. — But the trutli is, people judge of travel- lers exactly with the same candour, good nature, and impartiaiity, tbey judge oi their neighbours upon all occasions, i'or my part, if I live to return amoiigst you, I am so well acquainted with the morals of all my dear friends and acquaintances that I am resolved to tell them nothing at all, to avoid the imj.utation ( which their charity would certainly incline them to} of my telling too much. But I depend upon yoni knowing me enough to believe whatever I seriously assert for truth; though I give you leave to be sur- prized at an account so new to you. But what would you say, if I told you tbat 1 have been in a haram, where the winter apartment was wainscoted with inlaid work of mother of pearl, ivory of different colours, and olive wood, exactly like the little boxes you have seen brought out of this country; and in those rooms designed for summer, the walls are all crusted with Japan china, the roofs gilt, and th«* or LADY MONTAGUE. li^ floors spread \\ith the finest Persian carpets? Yet there is notlilng more true: such is the palace of mv lovely friend, the e, Jal/un, Derdinden oldiini zabiin. Soap, I am sick with love. Chernur, Ben Olivim size umur Coal, May I die, and all my years be yours ! G«/, Ben aglarutn sen gul A rose, May you be pleased, and your sorrows mine ! Jlasir, Cliini sana yazir, A straw, Suffer me to be your slave. Jo ho, Ustune bulunmaz pahu Cloth, Y''our price is not to be found. Tartsin, Sen ghel ben chekeirn senin hargia Cinnamon, But my fortune is yours . Giro, Eskin Hen oldum ghira A match, I burn, I burn ! my flame consumes me ! F L A D Y M O N T A G U E. Sir ma. Lzunu henden ayinna Goldthread, Don''t turn away your face. Satdi, Bazmazun tatch Hair, Crown of my bead I Lzum, Eenim iki Cuzum Grape. My eyes ! Til, Ulugorum tez ghel Gold Wire, I die — come quickly. « And by way of Postscript : Beber, Bize bir dogm haier. I'epper, Send me an answer. i6i You see this letter is all in verse, and I can as- sure you, there is as mucli fancy sliewn in uie ciio.ce of them, as in the most studied expressions of our ielters ; there being, I belie\ c. a million of verses designed for this use. There is no colour, no flower, no weed, no Irult, herb, pebble, or feather, that Las not a verse belonrlug to it; and you may quarrel.^ reproach, or send ktttrs of passion. friend.«hip, or rivililv.or even of news, without ever inking your lingers. I fancy yon are now wondering at my profound If^arnin^^ ; but alas, dear madam. I am almost fallen into the misfortune so common to the ambitions; while they are employed on distant insigniiioant conquests abroad, a rebellion starts up at home; — I am in great danger of losing my English. I find 'tis not half so easy to me to write in it, as it was a tvTelvemonth ago. I am forced to study for expres- 3ions, and I must leave off all other languages and 14. i62 LETTERS try to learn my mother tongue. — Human under- standing is as much hmited as human power, or hu- man strength. The memory can retain but a certain number of images ; and 'tis as impossible for one hu- man creature to be perfect master of ten different languages, as to have in perfect subjection ten dif.^'e- rent kingdoms, or to light against ten men at a time. I am afraid 1 shall at last know none as I should do. I live in a place that very well represents the tower of Babel ; in Pera they speak Turkish, Creek, He- brew, Armenian, Arabick, Persian, Russian, Sclavo- nian, Wallachin, German, Dutch, French, English, Italian, Hungarian; and, what is worse, there are ten of these languages spoken in my own family. My grooms are Arabs, my footmen Trench, English, and Germans ;my nurse an Armenian; my house maids Russians; half a dozen other servants Greeks; my steward an Italian; my janizai-ies Turks; so that I live in the perpetual hearing of this medley of sounds, which produces a very extraordinary effect upon the people that are born here ; for they learn all these laa;.uages at the same time, and without knowing any of them well enough to write or read it. There are very few men, women, or even chil- dren here, that have not the same compass of words in live or six of them. I know myself several infants of tlwee or four years old, that speak Italian, French, Greek, Turkish, and Russ'au, which last they learn of their nurses, who are genea-ally of that country. This seems almost incredible to you, and is, in my mind, one of the most curious things in this coun- try, and takes off very much from the merit of our Ol- LADY MONTAGUE. i63 ladies, who set up for such extraordinary geniuses upon the credit of some superficial knowledf^e of -•'reach and Italian. As I prei'er Enfflish to all the rest, I am extremely mortified at the daily decay of it in my head, where, I II assure you (with grief of heart), it is reduced to such a small numher of words, I cannot recollect any tolerable phrase to conclude my letter with, and am forced to tell your ladyship very bluntly, that I am Your faithful humble scrxant. XL I. To THE COUNTESS OF B . XXT length I have heard from my dear lady T> , for the first lime. I am persuaded you have had the goodness to write before, but I have had the ill for- tune to lose your letters. Since ray last, I have staid quietly at Constautlnople, a city that I ought in conscience to give your ladyship a right notion of, since I know you can have none but what is partial and mistaken from the writings of travellers. 'Tis certain there are many people that pa.'s years here iu Pera, without having ever seen it, and yet they all pretend to describe it. Pera, Tophana,and Galata, wholly inhabited by Trench Christians ( and which, together, make the appearance of a very fine town ) are divided from it by the sea, which is not above half so broad as the broadest part of the Thames ; but the Christian men are loth to hazard the adven- . tures they sometimes meet with amongst the levents »64 LETTERS or seamen ( worse monsters than our watermen ) and the women must cover their faces to go there, which they have a perfect aversion to do. 'Tis true, they wear veils in Pera, hut they are such as only serve to shew their beauty to more advantage, and would not be permitted in Constantinople. These reasons deter almost every creature from seeing it ; and the French ambassadress will return to France (I beheve) without ever having been there. You'll wonder, madam, to hear me add that I have been there very often. The asmack^ or Turkish veil, is become not 1 only very easy, but agreeable, to me; and if it was * not, I wou'd be content to endure some inconve- niency to gratify a passion that is become so power- ful with me as curiosity. And indeed, the pleasure of going in a barge to Chelsea is not comparable to that of rowing upon the canal of the sea here, where for twenty miles together down the l>osphorus, the roost beautiful variety of prospects present themsel- ves. The Asian side is covered with fruit trees, vil- lages, and the most delightful landscapes in nature; on the European stands Constantinople, situated on seven hills. — The unequal heights make it seem as large again as it is ( tho' one of the largest cities in' the world ) shewing an agreeable mixture of gardens, pine and cypress trees, palaces, mosques, and pu- Hick buildings, raised one above another, with as much beauty and appearance of symmetry as your' - ladyship ever saw in a cabinet adorned by the most skilful hands, where jars shew themselves above jars, mixed with canisters, babies, and candlesticks. This is a very odd comparison; but it gives me an OV LAD': MONTAGUE. iGJ exact idea of the thing^. I have taken care to see as much of the seraglio as is to be seen. It is on a point of laud running into the sea, a palace of prodigious extent, but very irregular. Ihe gardens take in a large compass of ground, full of high cypress trees, ■which is all I know of them. The buildings are all of white stone, headed on top, with gilded turiets and spires, which look very magnificent; antl indeed I beheve there is no Christian king's palace half so large. ITiere are six large courts in it, all built round and set with trees, having galleries of stone; one of those for the guard, another for the slaves, another for the ofllccrs of the kitchen, another for the stables, the fifth for the divan, and thesixthior the apartment des- tined for audiences. On the 1 idles' side there are, at least, as many more, with distinct courts belonging to their eunuchs and attv-ndants, their kitchens, etc. Thenextremarkablestructurcis thatof St. Sophia, which 'tis very difficult to see. I was forced to send three times to the caimacau ( the governor of the town) and he assembled the chief effendis, or heads of the la V, and enquired of the mufti, whether it was lavvi'ul to permit it. They passed some days ia this important debate ; but I insisting on my request, permission was granted. I caut be informed why the Tnrks are more delicate on the subject ol this mos- que, than on any of the otl^ers, where what Christiau pleases may enter without scruple. I fancy they imagine that, having been ouce consecrated, people, on pietence of curios ty, might prophane it with prayers, particularly to those saints, who are stiil very visible in mosaick work, and no otherway defa- i66 LETTERS ced but by the decays of time; for it is absolutely false, though so universally asserted, that the Turks (leiaced all the images that they found in the city. The dome of St. Sophia is said to be one hundred aud thirteen foot diameter, built upon arches, sus- tained by Ta.st pillars of marble, the pavement and stair-case marble. There are two rows of galleries supported with pillars of parti-coloured marble, and the whole roof mosaick work, part of which decays very fast, and drops down. — They presented me a handful of it : its composition seems to me a sort of glass, or that paste with which they make counter- felt jewels. They shew here the tomb of tl;e emperor Gonstautme, for which they have a great veneration. This is a duil imperiect descriptiou of this celebra- ted buildin • ;but I understand architectnreso ]ittle, that I am afraid of laik.ng nonsease in endeavouring to speak of it r.articuiarly.Ferhap^Iamin fhewrong, bat some Turkish mosques plea'ie me better. That of sultan Solyman is an exact vq^^are, with iour tine towcs in the angles ; in the mitlst is a noble cupola, supported wilb beautiful marble pillars: two lesser at the ends, supported in the same manner: the pave- ment and gallery round the mosque ol ma.ble; un- der the great cupo'a is a fountain adorned with srch line coloured pillars, that I can hardly think them natural marble ; on one side is the pu'pit of white marble, and on the other a little gallery for the grand signior. A fine stair-case leads to it, and it is built up Avith gilded lattices. At the upper end is a sort of al- tar, where the name of God is written ; and before it stand two candlesticks, as high as a man, with wax- Ob LADY MO N T A G U t\ 1G7 candles as thick as three Jlambeaiix. The pavement is spread with hue carpets, aud the mosque illamina- ted with a vast number of lamps. The court leadir^ to it is vei-y spacious, with galleries of columns of green marble, covered with twenty-eight leaded cupo- las, on two sides, and a line fountain of basons in the midst of it. This description may serve for all the mosques in Constantinople. The model is exactly the same, antt they onlv di/fer in largeness and th:ckness of mate- rials. That of the sultana Valida is the largest of them all, built entirely of marble, the most prodigious, and, I think, the most beautiful structure I ever saw, be it spoke to the honour of our sex, for it was founded by the motjier of IMahomet the fourth. — Between friends, Paul's church would make a very pitiful fi- gure near it, as any of our squares would do near the atlerdan^ or place of horses {at signifying a horse in Turkish ). This was the hippodrome in the reign of the Greek emperors. In the midst of it is a brazen co- lumn of three serpents twisted together, with their mouths gaping. 'Tis impossible to learn why so odd a pillar was erected ; the Greeks can tell nothing br.t fabulous legends when they are asked the meaninj» of it, and there is no sign of its having ever had any inscription. At the upper end is an obelisk of por- phyry, probably brought from Egypt, the hierogly- phicks all very entire, which I look upon as mere an- cient puns. It is placed on four little brazen pillars, upon a pedestal of square free stone, full of figures in bas-relief on two sides ; one .square representing a battle, another an assembly: the others have in- loS LETTERS scriptlous in Greek and Latin; the last I took in my pocket-book, and is as follows : Difficilis quondam dominis parere Serenis Jassus , et exstinctis palmam portare tyrannis. Omnia Tlieodosio cedunt, sobolique perenai. Your lord will inter-jret these lines. Don't fancy they are a love-letter to him. All the figures have their heads on, and I cannot f:)rbear reflecting again ou the impudence of authors, lYfto all say they have not : but 1 dare swear the great- est part of tiiera never saw them, but took the re- port from the Greeks, who resist, with incredible for- titude, the conviction of their own ey^, whenever tliej'have invented lies to the dishonour of their ene- mies. Were you to believe them, there is nothing worth seeing in Constantinople, but sancta Sophia^ though there are several larger, and, in my opinion, more beautiful mosques in that city. That of sultan Achmet has this particularity, that its gates are of brass. In all these mosques there are little chapon this occa- sion, to do as I have hitherto done in all the odd turns of my life ; turn them, if I can, to my diver- sion. In order to this, I ramble every day, wrapped up in my ferigee and asmcick, about Constantino- ple, and amuse myself with seeing all that is curious in it. I know you will expect tbat this declaration should be fo'lowed w ith some account of what I have seen. But I am in no humour to copy what has been ,7a LETTERS writ so often over. To what purpose sliould I tell you tliat Constantinople is ihe ancient Bizantinm ? that 'tis at present the conquest of a race of people, supposed Scythians ; that there are five or six thou- sand mosques in it? that St. Sophi.i.was founded \>y .Justinian, etc..'' I'll assure yon 'tis not for want of learning, that I forbear writing all these bright things, I could also, with very little trouble, turn over Knolles and sir Paul Rycaut, to give you a list of Turkish emperors ; but I will not tell you what you may find in every author that bas writ of this country. I am more inclined, out of a true female spirit of contradiction, to tell you the falsehood of a great part of what you find in authors; as for instance, in the admirable Mr. Hill, who so gravely asserts that he saw in sancta Sophia a sweating pillar, very balsamick for disordered heads. Ihere IS not the least tradition of any such matter; and I suppose it was revealed to him iu vision, during his wonderful stay in the Egyptian catacombs; for I am sure he never heard of any such miracle here. 'Tis also very pleasant to observe how tenderly he and all his brethren voyage-writers lament the mi- serable confinement of the Turkish ladies, who are jx'rhaps more free than any ladies in the universe, and are the only women in the world, that lead a life of uninterrupted pleasure, exempt from cares; their whole time being spent in visiting, bathing, or the agreeable amusement of spending money and invent- ing new fashions. A husband would be thought mad that exacted any degree of occonomy from his wife^ whose expences are no way limited hut by her own OF LADY MONTAGUE. i;3 i'ancy. 'Tis his Lusines^ to get money, aniLliera to spend it; and this noble prerogative extends itse f to the very meanest of the sex. Here is a -ellow that carries embioidered handkercliiefs upon his back to sell; and as miserable a figure as you may suppose such a meaa dealer, yet I'll assure you his wife scorns to wear any thing less than ololh of gold; has her ermine furs and a very handsome set of jewels for her head. 'Tis true, they have no publick places but the bagnios, and these can only be seen by their own sex; however, that is a diversion they take great pleasure in. I was, three days ago, at one of the finest in the town, and had the opportunity of seeing a Turkish bride received there, and all the ceremony used on that occasion, which made me recollect the epitha- l,amium of Helen, by Theocritus; and it seems to me, that the same customs have continued ever since. All the she-friends, relations and acquaiatanc*; of the two families, newly allied, meet at the bagnio; several others go, out of curiosity, and I btlievc there were that day two hundred women. Those that were, or had been married, placed theiuselves round the rooms on the marble sofas; but tbc vir- gins very hastily threw off their cloaths, and appear- ed without other ornament or covering, than thi ir own lang hair braided with pearl or r.bbou. Two of them met the bride at the door, conducted by her mother, and another grave relation. She was a beau- tiful maid of about seventeen, very richly dressed^ and shining with jewels, bat was presently reduced to tlie state of nature. Tv o others filled liher-gi't X74 LETTEPtS pots with perfumes, and bej^au the procession, the rest following in pairs, to the number of thirty. The leaders sung an epithalamUim, answered by the others in chorus, and the two last led the fair bride, her eyes fixed on the ground, with a charming affectation of modesty. In this order they marched round the- three laroe rooms of the bagnio. 'Tis not easy to^ represent to you the beauty of this sight, most ot them being well proportioned and white-skinned; all of them perfectly smooth, and polished by the frequent use of bathing. After having made their tout, the bride v^as again led to every matron round the rooms, who sa'uted her with a compliment and a present, some of jewels, others of pieces of stuff, handkerchiefs, or little gallantries of that nature, which she thanked them for, by kissing their hands. I was very wt;!! pleased with having seen this cere- mony ; and you may believe me, that the Turkish ladies have, at least, as much wit and civility, nay liberty, as among us. ■Ti& true, the same customs that give them so many opportunities of gratifying their evil inclinations (if they have any), also put it very fully in the power of their husbands to re- venge themselves, if they are discovered ; and I do not doubt but they suffer sometimes for their in- discretions in a very severe manner. About two months ago, there was found at day-break, not very far from my house, the bleeding body of a young woman, naked, only wrapped in a coarse sheet, with two wounds of a knife, one in her side, and another in her breast. She was not quite cold, and was so snrprizingly beautiful, that tiiere were verv few men O K L A D Y M O N T A G U E. 175 in Pera that did not go to look upon her ; but it was not possible for any body lo know her, no woman's face being known. She was supposed to have been brousjht in the dejKl of night from the Constan- tinople side, and laid there. ^ ery little enquiry was made about the murderer, and the corpse was pri- vately buried without noise. Murder is never pur- sued by the king's officers, as with us. 'lis tlie bu- siness of the next relations to revenge the dead person; and if they like better to compound the matter for money ( as thev generally do }, there is no more said abont it. One would imagine this defect in tiieir ^overunK iit should make such ti agedies very frequent, yet tliey are extremely rare; which is enough to prove the people not naturally cruel. "Neither do I think, in many other particulars, they deserve the barbarous character we give them. I ani' well Mrquainted with a Chrislian woman of quality, who made it her choice to live with a Turki>h hus- band, and is a very agreeable sensible lady. Her story is so extraordinarr I cannot forbear relating it; hut I promise you it shall be in as few words as I.cau possiblv express it. She is a Spaniard, and was at Naples with her family, when that kingdom was part of the Spanish dominion. Coming from thence in felucca, accom- panied by her brother, thev were attacked by the Turkish admiral, boarded, and taken. — And now how shall I modestly tell you the rest of her adven- ture ? The same accident happened to her, that hap- pened to the fair Lucretia so many years before her. r.ut she was too good a Christian to kill herself, as 176 LETTERS that heathenish P«.oinau did. The admiral was so much charmed with the beauty and long-sufferings of the fair captive, that, as his first compliment, he gave immediately liberty to her brother and attend- ants, who made haste to Spain, and in a few months sent the sum of four thousand pounds sterling, as a ransom for liis sister. 1 he Turk took the money, which he presented to her, and toM her she was at liberty. lUit the lady very discreetly weighed the different treatment she was likely to find in her na- tive country. Her relations (as the kindest thing they could do for her in her present clronmstances) would certainly conline her to a nunnery for the rest of her days. — Her infidel lover was very handsome^* very tender, very fond of her, and lavished at her feet all the Turkish magnificence. She answered him very resolutely, that her liberty vi'as not so precious to her as her honour ; that he could no way restore that, but by marrying her ; and she therefore desired him to accept the ransom as her portion, and give her the satisfaction of knowing that no man could boast of her favours without being her husband. The admiral was transported at this kind offer, and sent- back the money to her relations, saying he was too happy in her possession. He married her, and never took any other wife, and (as she says herself) she never liad reason to repent the choice she made. He left her, some years after, one of the richest widows iu Coustantiuople. But there is no remaining ho- nourably a single woman, and that consideration has obliged her to marry the present capitan pacha ( /. e. admiral ), his successor. — I am afraid that you O F LADY INI O \ T AGUE. 1-7 will think my friend fell in love with her ravisher ; but I am willin■. I beg your pardon for this sally, and will, if I can, continue the rest of my account in plain prose. The second day after we set sail, we passed Galiipolis. a fair citv situated in the bay of Chersonesus, and mucfi respected by the Turks, being the first town they took in Europe. At five the next morning, we an» cbored in the Hellespont, between the eastles of Sestos and Abydos, now called the DardaneUi. Thes« are now two little ancient castles, but of no strength, being commanded by a rising ground behind them, •which I confess I should never have taken notice of, if I had not heard it observed by our captalii and officers, my inaagitnitlon being v^holly employed ,»6 LETTERS \>y the tragick story that you are well acquainteil with: « The swimming lover and the nightly bride, « Haw Hero lov'd, and how Leander died ». Terse again .' I am certainly infected by the poetical air I have passed through. That of Abydos is un- doubtedly very anjorous, since that soft passion betrayed the castle mto the ha>ds of the Turks, who hesieged it in the reign of Orchanes. The governor's daughter imagining to have seen her future husband in a dream ( though I don't find she hsd either slept upon bridecake, or kept St. Agnes's fast), fancied she saw the dear figure in the form of one of her besiegers, and being willing to obey her destiny, tossed a note to him over the wall^with the offer of lier person -and the delivery of the castle. He shewed it to his general, who consented to try the sincerity of her intentions, and withdrew his army, ordering the young man to return with a select body of raea at midnight. She admitted him at the appointed hour; he destroyed the garrison, took the father prisoner, and made her his wife. 'Ihis town is in Asia, first founded by the Milesians. Sestos is in Europe, and •was once the principal city of Chersonesus. Since I have seen this streight, I find nothing improbable in the adventure of Leander, or very wonderful in the bridge of boats of Xerxes. 'Tis so narrow, 'tis Bot surprizing a youBg lover shotild attempt to swim, or an ambitious king try to pass his army over it. But then^ 'tis so subject to storms, 'tis no wondey OF LADY MONTAGUE. 187 t)je lover perished, and the bridge was broken. From hence we had a full view of mount Ida, u Where Juno once caressed lier amorous Jove, « And the world's master lay subdued by love ». Not many leaputs from hence, I saw the point of land where poor old Hecuba was buried, and about a league from that place is cape .lanizary, the famous promontory ol Sigaeum, where we anchored. My cu- riosity supplied me with strength to climb to the fop of it, to see the place where Achilles was buried, and where Alexander ran naked round his tomb, in ho- nour of him; which, no doubt, was a great comfort to his ghost. I saw there the ruins of a verv large city, and found a stone on which Mr. W y plainly distinguished the words of Sigcen polin. We orde- red this on board the ship, but were shewed others much more curious by a Greek priest, though a very ignorant fellow, that could give no tolerable account of any thing. On each side the door of th.s little church lie two large stones, about ten feet long each, live in breadth, and three in thickness. — That on the right is a very line white marble, the side of it beautifully carved in bas-relief: it rejiresents a woman, who seems to be designed for some deity, sitting on a cha'.r with a foot-stool, and before her another woman weeping and presenting to her a young child tbat shehas in her arms, followed by a procession of women with children in the same man- ner. This' is certainly part of a very ancient tomb ; but I dare not pretend to give the true explanation of it. On the stone, on the left side, is a vory fair i«« LETTERS inscription, but the Greek is too aucient for Mr. W — y's interpretation. I am very sorry not to have the original iu ray possession, which might have been purchased of the poor inhabitants for a small sum of money. Rut our captain assured us that, -without having machines made on purpose, 'twas impossible to bear it to the sea-side : and vshen it was there, his long boat would not be large enough to hold it. The ruins of this great city are now inhabited by poor Greek peasants, who wear the Sciote hribit, the women being in short petticoats fastened by straj.s round their shoulders, and large smock-sleeves of white lin<'n, with neat shoes and stockings, and on their heads a large piece of muslin, which falls in large folds upon their shoulders, — One of my coun- trymen, Mr. Sands, ( whose book I doubt not you have read as one of the best of its kind) spea'kiugof these ruins, supposes them to have been the founda- tion of a city begun by Constantine, before his build- ing Byzantium; but I see no good reason for that imagination, and am apt to believe them much more ancient. We saw very plainly from this promontory the river Siraois roUinj.; from mount Ida, and running through a very spacious valley. It is now a considerable river, and is called Simores: it is joined in the vale by the Scamander, which appeared a small . .stream half choaked with mud, but is perhaps large in the winter. This was Xanthus amongst the gods, as Homer tells us, and 'tis by that heavenly naine the nymph Qehon« invokes it in her epistle to Paris. The Trojan virgins used to offer their first favours to it by the name of OF LADY MO NT AG UK. 189, Scaniander, 'till the adventure, which Monsieur de la Fontaine has told so agreeably, abolished that heathenish ceremony. When the stream is mingled ■with the Simois, they run together to the sea. All that is now left of Troy is the ground on which It stood ; for I am firmly persuaded whatever pieces of antiqnity may be found round it, are much more modern, and I think Strabo says the same thing. Howevep, there js some pleasure in seeing the valley where I imagined the famous duel of Menelaus and Paris had been fought, and where the greatest city in the world was situated. 'Tis certainly the noblest Situation that can be found for the head of a great empire, much to be preferred to that of Constanti- nople, the harbour here being always convenient for ships from all parts of the world, and that of Cons- taatinople inaccessible almost six months in the year, while the north wind reigns. North of the promontory of Sigseum wesaw that of Rhaet^um, famed for the sepulchre of Ajax. While I viewed these celebrated fields and rivers, I admired the exact geography of Homer; whom I had in my hand. Almost every epithet he gives to a mountaiu .or plain is still just for it; and I spent several hours in as agreeable cogitations as ever Don Quixote had on mount jNIontesinos. We sailed next night to the shore where 'tis vulgarly reported Troy stoo'd, and I took the pains of rising at tv\o4n the morning, to view coolly those ruins which are commonly shewed to strangers, and which the Turks cull Esky Stamhoul {i. e^o\& Constantinople ). For that reason, as well as some others, I conjecture them to be the ,^o LETTERS remains of that city begfuu by Constantine. I hired au ass ( the only voiture to be had there ), that I might go some miles into the country, and take a tour round the ancient walls *which are of a vast extent. We found the remains of a castle on a hill, and of another in a valley, several broken pillars, and two pedestals, from which I took these Latin in^ scriptions, ', . DIVr. AUG. COh. ET. COL. lUL. PHILII'PENSIS. KOR0NDEM. ET. TRINCir. AM. COL. lUL. PARIANAE. TRIBUJf. aifLlT. COH. XXXII. VOLUNTAR. TRIB. MILIT. LEG. XIII. GEM. PRAKFECTO. EQCIT. ALAE. I. SCUBULORUM. VIC. VIII. DlfTi. lULI. FLAMINI. C. AITTOIflO. M. F. VOLT. RUFO. FLAMIN. 1>IV. AUG. COL. CL. APREKS* ET. COL. lUL. PHILIPPEPfSlS. n'ORUNDEM. ET. PRINCIP. ITEM. COL. lUL. PARIANAE. TRIB. atlLIT. COh! XXX! I. VOLUKTARIOR^ TRIB. MILIT. XIII. ■" GEM.* FRAEF. EQtlT. ALAE. I. SCUEULORUW. VIC. VII. I do not doubt but the remains of a temple near this Ol LADY MONTAGUE. itji jilace are the ruins of one dedicateil to Auffastns, and I know not why Mr. Sands calis it a (Christian teiaple, since the Romans certainly built hereabouts. Here are many tombs of fine marble, and vast pieces of granite, which are daily lessened by the prodig'.ous balls that the Turks make from them for their cannon. We passed that evening the isie of Tenedos, once under the patronacje of Apollo, as he gave it in, himself, iri the particulars of his estate, when he courted Dapline. It is but ten miles in circuit, but in those days very rich and well peopled, still famous for its excellent wine.Isay nothinporTenes,from whom it was called, but nam."d jMitylenc, where we passed next. I cannot forbear mentioning Lesbos, where Sappho sung and P;ttacus reigned, 'amous for'lhebirth of Aicaeus,Theo- phrastas. and Arion, those masters in poetry, philo- sophy, and luusick. This was one of the last islands that remained in the Christian dominion after the con- quest of Constantinople by the Turks. Rut need I talk to you of Catucuseno, etc., — princes that you are as well acquainted with as I am? 'Twos with regret I saw us sail from this island into the Eugean sea. now the Archipelago, leaving Scio ( the ancient Chios ) on the left, which is the richest and most populous of these' is'ands, fruitful in cotton, corn, and silk, plantedwith groves of orange and lemon trees, and ihe Arvisian mountain still celebrated for the nectar that "Virgil mentions, — Here is the best manufacture of silks in all Turkey. The town is well built, the women famous for their beauty, and shew their faces, as in Christen- dom. There are many rich families, though they con- fine their magnificence to the inside of theii' houses , »92 LETTERS to avoid ihe jealousy of the Turks, who have a pacha here: however they enjoy a reasonahle liberty, and indulge the genius of their country ; And eat, and sing, and dance away their time, Fresh as their groves, and happy as their clime. Their chains hang Tightly on them, though 'tis not long since they were imposed, not being under the Turk, 'till 1 566. Rut perhaps it is as easy to obey the grand signior as the state of Genoa, to whom they were sold by the Greek emperor. But I forget myself in thesehistorical touches, which are very impertinent when I write to you. Passing the streight between the islands of Andros and Achaia, now Libadia, we saw the promontory of Lunium, now called cape Colona, •where are yet standing the v?st pillars of a temple of Minerva. — This venerable sight made me think with double regret onabeautiful temple of Theseus, which I am assured was almost entire at Athens till the last campaign in the Morea, that the Turks filled it with powder, and it was accidentally blown up. You may believe I had a great mind to land on the famed Pe- loponnesus, though ir were only to look on the rivers of Asopus, Peneus, liiaclius. and Eiirota.s, the fields of Arcadia, and other scenes of ancient mithology :but instead of demi-gods and heroes, 1 was credibly in- formed 'tis now over-run by robbers; and that I should run a great risk of falling into their hands by un- dertaking such a journey through a desart country, for which, however, I have so much respect, that I have much ado to hinder myself from troubling you with its whole history, from the foundation of Nycaua or LADY MONTAGUE. 193 and Corinth to the last campaipi there : but I check ihe inclination, as I did that of landing. We sailed quietly by cape Angelo,once Malea, ^\he^e I saw no remains of the famous temple of Apollo. We ran.e that evening in sight of Candia : it is very moontainous ; we easily distinguished that of Ida. — We have Vir- gil's authority that there were a hundred cities. — Centum urbes habitant magnas. The chief of them — the scene of monstrous passions. — Metellus first conquered this birth- place of Jup ter; it fell afterwards into the hands of — I am running on ut the women have their arms to their very shoulders, .'ind their necks and faces, adorned with flowers, stars, and various sorts of figures impressed by gun-powder, a considerable addition to theirnative deformity, which is. however, esteemed very ornamental amongst them ^ and I be- lieve they suffer a good deal of pain by it. About six miles from Tunis we saw the remains of that noble aqueduct, which carried the water to Car- thage, over several high mountains, the length of forly miles. There are still many arcbes entire. We spent two hours viewing it with great attention, and Mr. W — y assured me, that of Rome is very much infe- rior to it. The stones are of a prodigious size, and yet all poUshed and so exactly fitted to each other, very little cement has been made use of to join them : yet they may probably stand a thousand years longer, if art is not made use of to pull them down. Soon after day-break I arrived at Tunis, a town fairly built of very white stone, but qnte without gardens, which they say. were all des'.roved when the Turks first to»k it, none havingbeen planted sincp. The dry sand gives a very disagreeable prospect to the eye. aud the want of shade contributing tO'tlie natural heat of the cli- 196 LETTERS mate, renders it so excessive that I have much ado to support it. 'Tis true, here is every noon the refresh- ment of the sea-breeze, without which it would be im- possible to live -/but no fresh water, but what is pre- served in the cisterns of the rains that fail in the month of September. The women of the tov\n go veiled from head to f6ot under a black crape, and being mixed with a breed of renegadoes are said to be many of them fair and handsome. This city was besieged in 1270 by Lewis, king of France, who died under the walls of it, of a pest'deutial fever. After his death, Philip, his son, and our prince Edward, son of Henry the third, raised the siege on honourable terms. It re- mained under its natural African kings , till betrayed into the hands of Rarbarossa, admiral of Solyman the magnificent. The emperor Charles "V expejled Barba- rossa, but it was recovered by the Turks, under the conduct of Sinan pacha, in the reign of Selim II. Erom that time till now, it has remained tributary to the grand signior, governed by a bey, who suffers the name of subject to the Turk, but has renounced the subjection, being absolute, and very seldom paying any tribute. The great city of Jiagdat is, at this time, in the same circumstances; and the grand signior connives at the loss of these dominions for fear of losing even the titles of them. I went very early yesterday morning ( after one night's repose ) to see the ruins of Carthage. — I was however half broiled in the sun, and overjoyed to he led into one of the subterranean apartments, which they called the stables of the elephants, but which I cannot believe were ever designed forthat use. I found OF LADY MONTAGUE. 197 in many of them broken pieces of columns of fine marble, and some of porphyry. I cannot think any body would take the insigniticant pains of carrying them hither, and I canni^t imaoriue such fine pillars were designed for thp use of stables. I am apt to be- lieve they were summer apartments under their pa- laces, which the heat of the climate rendered neces- sary. Th?y are now used as granaries by the country people. While I sat here, from the town of Tents, not far off, many of the women flocked in to see me, and we were eqnally entertained «-ith viewingone another. Their posture in sitting, the colour of their skin, their lank black hair falling on each side of their faces, their features and the shape of their limbs, differ so Little from their country people the baboons, 'tis hard to fancy them a distant race ; I could not help think- ing there had been some ancient alliances between them. When I was a Httle refreshed by rest, and some milk and exquisite fruit they brought me, 1 went up the little hill where once stood the castle of Eyrsa, and from thence I had a distinct view of the situation of the famous city of Carthage, which stood on an isthmus, the sea coming on each side of it. 'Tis now a marshy ground on one side, where there are salt- ponds. Strabo calls Carthage forty miles in circum- ference. There are now no remains of it, but what I have described ; and the history of it is too well known to want any abridgment of it. You see, Sir, that I think you esteem obedience better thancompbments. Ihave answered your letter by giving you the account* you desired, and have reserved my thanks to the con- I-. 198 LETTERS elusion. I intend to leave this place to-morrow, and continue my journey through Italy and France. In one of those places, I hope to tell you by word of mouth that I am ♦ Your humble servant, etc. XLV. To THE Countess ok . Genoa, August 28, O. S. 17 18. 1 BEG your pardon, my dear sister, that I did not write to yon from Tunis, the only opportunity I have had since I left Constantinople, T5ut the heat there was so excessive, and the light so had for the sight, I was half blind by writing one letter to the abbot , and durst not go to write many others I had designed; nor indeed could I have entertained you very well out of that barbarous country. I am now surrounded with subjects of pleasure, and so much charmed with thebeauties of Italy, thati should think it a kind of ingratitude not to offer a little praise in return for the diversion I have had here. — I am in thehouseof JNlrs.D'Avenant, at St. Pierre d' Arena^ and should be very unjust not to allow her a shareof that praise 1 speak of, since her good humour and good company have very much contributed to render this place agreeable to me. Genoa is situated in a very line bay, and being built on a rising hill intermixed with gardens, and beati- fied with the most exjcellent architecture, gives a very fine prospect off at sea; though it lost much of its OF LADY MONTAGUE. 199 beauty in my eyes, having being accustomed to that of Constantinople. The Genoese were once masters of several Islands in the Archipelago, and all that part of Constantinople which is now called Galata. Their betraying the Christian cause, by facilitatin / the ta- king of Co nstantinople by the Turk , deserved what ha s since happened to them, even the loss of all their con- quests on that side to those infidels. They are at pre- sent far from rich, and are despised by the French, since their doge was forced by the late king to go in person to Paris, to ask pardon for such a trifle as th« arms of France over the house of the envoy being spattered with dung in the night. This I suppose was done by some of the Spanish faction, which still makes up the majority here, though they dare not openly declare it. The ladies affect the French habit, and are more genteel than those they imitate. I do not doubt but the custom of cizisbeis has very much imjpjoved their airs. I know not whether you ever heard of those animals. Upon my vixjrd. cflthing but my own eyes couW have convinced me there were any such upon earth. The fashion begun here, and is now received all over Italy, where the husbands are not such terrible creatures as we represent them. There are none among them such brutes as to pretend to find fault wivh a custom so weU established, and so politically founded, since I am assured that it was an expedient first found out by the senate to put an end to those family hatreds, which tore thei^r state to pieces, and to find employment for those young men who were forced to cut one another's throats, pour passer le temps; and it has succeeded so \vell, noo LETTERS that since the institution of dzisbeis, there has been nothing hut peace and good humour amongst them. These are gentlemen who devote themselves to the service of a particular lady ( I mean a married one, for the virgins are all invisible, and confined to convents). They are obliged to wait on her to all publick places, such as the plays, operas, and assemblies (which are. called here conversations), where they wait behind her chair, take care of her fan and gloves if she plays, have the privilege of whispers, etc. — When she goes out, they serve her instead of lacquies, gravely trotting by her chair. ^Tis their business to prepare for her a present aj^ainst any day of publick appearance, not forget- ting that of her own name(i) : in short, they are! 10 spend ail their time and money in her service, wlio rewards them accordingly (for opportunity they want none); but the husband is not to have the impudence to suppose this any other than j>ilre Platonick* friendship. 'Tis true they endeavour to give her a cizisbei of their own chusing ; but when the lady happens not to he of the same taste, as that often happens, she never fails to bring it about to have one of her own fancy. In former times, one beauty used to have eight or ten of these humble admirers; hut those days of plenty and humility are no more. Men grow more scarce and saucy, and every lady is forced to content Jierself with one at 3 time. (i) That is the day of the saint after whom she h callpd. OF LADY MONTAGUE. 9.01 You may see in this place the glorious liberty of a republick, or, more properly, an aristocracy, the common people being here as arrant slaves as the French : but the old nobles pay little respect to the doge, who is but two years in his office, and whose Avife, at that very time, assumes no rank above an- other noble iSdy. 'Tis true, the family of Andrea Doria (that great man who restored them that li- berty they enjoy) have some particular privileges. When the senate found it necessary 'o put a stop to the luxury of dress, forbidding the wearing of jewels and brocades, they lef||them at liberty to make what expence they pleased. 1 look with great pleasure on the statue of thai hero, whioh is in the court belonging to the house of duke Doria. This puts me in mind of their palaces, which I can never describe as I ought. Is it not enough that I say they are most of them the design of Palladio. The street called Strada A novo is perhaps the most beautiful line of building in the world. I must particiilarly mention the vast palaces of Durazzo, those of the two Kalbi. [oined together h\ a magnificent colon- nade, that of the Imperiale. at this village of St. Pierre d'Ar£na, and another of the Doria. The perfection of architecture, and the utmost profusion of rich furniture are to be seen here, disposed with the most elegant taste, and lavish magnificence. Rut I am charmed with nothing so much as the collec- tion of pictures by the pencils of Raphael, Paulo Veronese, Titian, Caracci. INIichael Angclo, Guido, and Correggio, which two I mention last as my par- ticular favourites. I own I can find no pleasure in ao2 LETTERS objects of honor ; and, in my opinioii, the moite na- turally a cruciiix is represented, the more disagree- able it is. These my beloved painters shew nature, and shew it in the most charming light. I was parti- calarly jileased Avith a Lucretia iu the house of Balbi; the expressive beauty of that face and bosom gives all the passion of pity and admiration, that could be raised in the soul by the finest poem on that sub- ject. A Cleopatra, of the same hand, deserves to he mentioned; and I should say more of her, if Lu- cretia had not first engaged my eyes. — Here are also some inestimab]|L ancient bustos. — - The church of St. Lawrence is built of black and white marble, where is kept that famous ])late of. a single emerald, which is not now permitted to be handled, since a plot, which, they say. was discovered to throw it on the pavement, and break it: a childish piece of malice, which they ascribe to the king of Sicily, to be revenged for their refusing to sell it to him. The church of the Annunciation is finely lined with marble; the pillars are of red and white marbie. Thtit of St. Ambrose has been very much adorned by the Jesuits ; but I confess all the churches ap- peared so mean to me, after that of Sancta Sophia, I can hardly do them the honour of writing dowu their names. Rut I hope you will own I have made a good use of my time, in seeing so much, since 'tis not many davs that we have been out of the qaarrantine, from which nobody is exempted coming from the Levant. Ours, indeed, was ven,- much shor- tened, and very agreeably passed in Mrs. d'Avenant'* oompany, in the vi'laao of St. Pierre d Arena f O V LADY M G ^ i' A G U E . 20 :. aboat a mile from Genoa, in a iiouse built by Pal- ladio, so well designed, and so nob!y proportioned, 'twas a pleasure to walk in it. We were visited here only by a few English, in the company of a noble Genoese, commissioned to see we did not touch one another. — I shall stay here some da^s longer, and could almost wish it were for all my life ; but mine, I fear, is not destined to so much tranquillitr. I am, etc. etc. XLVI. To THE CODNTUSS OF -. — . Turin, September 12, O.S. 17 18. X c A. ME, in two days, from Genoa, througb fine roads, to this place. I have already seen what is shewed to strangers in the town, which indeed is not worth a very particular description; and I have not respect enough for the holy handkerchief, to speak long of it. The churches are handsome, and so is the king's palace ; but I have lately seen such perfection of architecture, I did not give much of my attention to thes" pieces. The town itself is fairly built, situated in a fine plain on the banks of the Po. At a httle distance from it, we saw the palaces of la V enerie and la Valentin, both very agreeable retreats. We v,ere lodged in the Piazza royatc, wtich is one of the noblest squares I ever saw. with a fine portico of white stone quite round it. We were immediately visited by the chevalier , whom you knew in F.cglaud, who, with great civility, begged to intro- ao4 LElTERS (luce us at court, which is now kept at Rivoli, about a league from Turin. I went thither yesterda\. and had the honour of waitini^f on the queen, beJng presented to her by her first lady of honour. I found her majesty in a magnificent apartment, with a train of handsome ladies all dressed in gowns, among which it was easy to distinguish the fair princess of Carignan. The queen entertained me with a world of s^veetness and affability, and seemed mistress of a great share of good sense. She did not forget to put me in mind of her English blood ; and" added that she always felt in herself a particular in- clination to love the English. I returned her civility, by giving her the title of majesty as often *as I could, which perhaps she will not have the comfort of hear- ing many months longer. — The king has a great deal of vivacity in his eyes, and the young prince of Piedmont is a very handsome young man; but the great devotion, which this court is at present fallen into, does not permit any of those entertain-, ments proper for his age. Processions and masses are all the magnificence in fashion here, and gallantry is so criminal, that the poor count of , who was our acquaintance at London, is very seriously disgraced for some small overtures he presumed to make to a maid of honour. I intend to set out to- morrow, and to pass those dreadful Alps so much talked of. — If I come to the bottom, you shall hear of me. I am, etc. etc. OF LADY MONTAGUE. XL VII. To Mrs. T . Lyons, September 25, O. S, 1718. J. RECEIVED, at my arrival here, both your obUging letters, and also letters from many of ray other friends, designed to Constantinople, and sent me from Marseilles hither ; our merchant there know- ing we were upon our return. I am surprized to hear my sister has left England. I suppose what I wrote to her from Turin will be lost, and where to^irect I know not, having no account of her af- fairs from her own hand. For my own part, I am conlined to my chamber, having kept my bed till yesterday, ever since the 17th, that I came to this town, where I have had so terrible a fever, 1 be- lieved for some time that all my journeys were end- ed here; and I do not at all wonder that such fa- tigues as I have passed should have such an effecr. The first day's journey from Turin to INovalese is through a very fiue country, beautifullv planted and enriched bv art and nature. The next day we begau to ascend mount Cenis, being carried in little seats of twisted osiers, fixed upon poles, upon men'$ shoulders ; our chaises takeo to pieces and laid upoa mules. The prodigious" prospect of mountains covered with eternal snow, of clouds hanging far below our feet, and of vast cascades tumbling down the rocks with a confused roaring, would have been entei' 18 2o6 LETTERS taiaing to me, if 1 had suffered less from the extreme cold that reigns here. But the misty rains which fall perpetually, penetrated even the thick iur I was wrapped in; and I was ha! f dead with cold hefore we £;ot to the foot of the niouutain, which was not till two hours after dark. This hill has a spacious plain on the top of it, and a fine lake there : hut the descent is so steep aijd slippery, 'lis surprizing to see these chairuii-n go so steadily as they do. Yet I was not halfso much afraid of hreaking'mv i^eck. as I was of falling sick ; aiid the event has shewed that I placed ray, fears right. The other njountains axe now all passable for a chaise, and very fruitful in vines and pastuj^s. Amongst them is a breed of the finest goats in ine world. Acquebellet is the 'last, and soon after ^ve entered Pont Beauvoisin, the frontier town o£ France, whose bridge }>arts this kingdom and the dominions of Savoy. The same night we arrived late at this town, where I have had nothing to do. but to take care of my health. I think myself already out of any danger, an'-I am delermined that the sore throat, which still remaiiis, shall not confine lue long. I am impatient *to see the curiosities of this famous city, and more inipatiefit to continue my journey to Paris, from whence I hope to write you a more diverting letter than 'tis possible for me to Ao now, with a mind weak<;ncd by sickness, a head, muddled with spleen, from a sorry inn, aad a cham- ber crammed with mortifying objects of apothecs'S-ii's vials and bottles. I am, etc. etc. OF LADY MONTAGUE, ao? XLYIIL To Mr. Popb. Lyons, September 28, O. S. 1718^. 1 RECEIVED yours here, and should thank you for the pleasure you seem to enjoy from my return ; but I can hardly forbear being angry at you, for re- joicing at what displeases me so much. You will think this but an odd compliment on my side. I'll assure you 'tis not from insensibihty of the joy of seeing my friends; but when I conoidcF that I must at the same time see and hear a thousand disagree- able impertinents ; that t must receive and pay vi- sits, make curtesies, and assist at tea-tables, where I shall be half killed with questions; and on the other part, that I am a creature that caunut serve any body but with insignificant good wishes ; and that my j)resence is not a necessary good to any one member of my native country. I think I might much better have staid where ease and quiet made up the happiness of my indolent life. — I should certainly be melancholy if I pursued this theme one line far- ther. I will rather fill the remainder of this paper with the inscriptions on the tables of brass that are placed on each side of the town-house. I. TABLE. Maerernm. nostra. : : : sii : : : : : Eqnidem. primam. omnium, illam. cogitationem. hominum. quani. Ao8 LETTERS maxime. primam. occursnrani. mihi. provideo. de- jprecor. ne. quasi. uoTam. istara. rem. introdaci. ex- horrescatis. sed. ilia, potius. cogitetis. quam. raulta. in. hac. civitate. novata. sint. et. qtiidem. statim. ab. origine. urbis. nostrae. in. quod, formas. statusque. res. p. nostra, diducta. sit. Quondam, rfeges. banc, tenuere. urbem. ne. tamen. domesticis. successoribus. earn, tradere. contitjit. su- pervenere. alieui. et. quidani. externi. ut. Numa. Romulo. . successerit. ex. Sabinis. veniens. vicinus. quidem. sed. tunc, externus. ut. Anco. Marcio. Priscus.Tarquinius. propter, temeratuni. sanguinem. quod, patre. demarato. Corintbio. natus. erat. et. Tarquiniensi. matre. generosa. sed. inopi. ut. quoe. tali, marito. necesse. habAerit. succumbere. cum. dorai. repelleretur.a. gerendis. bonoribu*. postquam. Romam. migravit. regnum. adeptus. est. buic. quo- que.ct. filio. nepotive. ejus. nam. et. boc. inter, auctores. discrepat: insertus. Servius. Tullius. si. nostros. sequimur. captiva. natus. ocresia. si. tuscos. coeli. quondam, vivennae. sodalis. fidebssimus. omnis- que. ejus, casus. c»mes. postquam. varia. fortuna. cxactus. cum. omnibus, reliquis. caeliani. exercitus. Etruria. excessit. montem. CaeUum. occupavit. et. a. duce. sue. Caelio.ita.appellitatus.muta toque, nomine, nam. ttisce. mastarna. ei. nomen. erat. ita, appellatus. est. ut, dixi. el. regnum. summa. cum. reip. utilitate. optiriuit, deinde. postquam. Tarquini. Superbi. mo- res, invisi. civitati. nostrae. esse, coeperunt. qua. ipsius. qua. flboram. ejus, nempe. pertaesum. est. mentes. regni. et. ad. consales. annads. magistratus. administratio. reip. trj^jsjafa. est. OF LADY MOTVT AGUE. 209 Quid. nunc, commemoreni. dictaturse. hoc. ipso, cousuiari. iinpefium. valentius. repertum. apnd. luajores. nostros. quo. in. asperioribus. bellis. aut; in. civili. motu. difficiliore. uterentur. aut. in. auxilium. plebis. creates, tribunes, plebei. quid. a. consulibus. afd. ^eeeraviros. translatum, imperium. solutoque. postea. decemvirali. regno, ad. consules. rursus. reditura. quid, im : : : : v, ris. distributum. oonsulare. imperium. tribunosque. militura. consu- lari. imperio. appellatos. qui. seni. et. octoni. crea- rentur. quid, communicatos. postremo. cum, plebe. hoaores. non. imperi. solum, sed. sacerdotorum. quoque. jamsi. narrem. bella. a. quibcs. cceperint. majores. nostri. et, quo. processerimus. vereor. ne. nimio. insolentior. esse, videar. et. qnsesisse. jaeta- tionem. gloriae. prolati. imperi. ultra, oceanum. sed. illo. C. Porius. revertar. civitatem. 1 1. T A B L E. sane :::::::::::::::::■•■'■•'' : : : : novo. : : : divis : aug : no : lus. et. patruus. Ti. Caesar, omnem. florem. ubique. coloniarum. ac. municipiorum. bonorum. scilicet, virorum. et. locu- pletium. in. bac. curia, esse, voluit. quid. ergo. non. italicus. senator, provinciali. potior, est. jam. vobis. cum. banc, partem, censurae. meae. approbare. coeper ro. quid. de. ea. re. sentiam. rebus, ostendam. sed. ne: provinciales. quidem. si. modo. oruave. curiam, poteriut. rejiciendos. puto. Ornatissima. ecce. colonLa. valentissimnqne. ncD- iS. 2t» LETTERS nensium. quam. Iqugo. jam. tempore, senatores. huic curiae, confert. ex. qua. colonia. inter, paucos. equestris. ordinis. oruamentum. L. restinum. iami- liarissime. diligo. et. hodieqne. in. rebus, meis. de- tineo. cnjus. liberi. fruantur. quaeso. primo. sacer- dotiorum. gradu. post, raodo. cum. annis. promoturi. dignitatis, suae, incrementa. ut. dirum. nomen. latro- nis. taceam. et. odi. iilud. palestricuu;. prodiguum. quod. ante. in. domum. consulatum. intulit. quam. colonia. sua. solidum. civitatis. Romance, bencficium. consecuta. est. idem. de. fratre. ejus, possum, dicere. zoiserabili. quidem. indigaissimoque. hoc. casu. ut. vobis. utilis. senator, esse. non. pOssit. Tempus. est. jam. Ti. Caesar. Germanice. detegere. te. patribns. conscriptis. quo. tendat. oratio. tua. jam. enim. ad. es.tremos. fines. Gallise. Narbonensis. venisti. Tot. ecce. insignes. jnvenes. qnot, mtueor. non. magis. sunt, poenitendi. senatores. quam. pcenitet. Persicum. nobilissimum. virum. amicum. meum. in- ter, imagines, majorum. suorum. Allobrogici. nomen. legere. quod. si. base, ita, esse, consenti. is. quid, ultra. desideratJs. quam. ut. vobis. digito. demons- trem. solum, ipsum. ultra, iines. provinciae. Narbo- nensis. iam. vobis. senatores. mittere. quando. ex. Lugduno. habere, nos. nostri, ordinis. viros. non. poenitet. timide. quidem. p. e. egressus. adsuetos, familiaresque. vobis. provinciarum. terminos. sum. sed. destricte. jam. comatae. Galliae. causa, agenda, est. in. qua. si. quis. hoc. int«etur. quod. beUo. per. decepa. annos. exercuerunt,' divuin. Jnlium. idem. Or LAD Y MONTAGUE. an opponat. centum, annorum. immobilcm. flilem. ob- sequiumque. multis. trepiJis. rebus, uostros. plus- quam. expertum. illi. patri. meo. Druso. Germaniam. subifjenti. tutam. quiete. sua. securamque. a. tergo. pacem. praestiterunt. et. quidem. cum. ad. census, novo. turn, opere. et. in. adsueto. Oalliis. ad. bellum. advocattts. esse*, quod. opus, quani. ardunui. sit. nobis, nunc. euro, maxime. quamvis. nihil, ultra, quam. ut. publice. notae. sint. facultates. nostiae. ex- quir^tur. nimis. magno. experimento. cognoscinjus. I was also shewed, without the gate of St. Jnsti- nius, some remains of a Roman aqueduct ; and be- hind the monastery of Sf. Mary, theie are the ruins of the imperial palace where the emperor Claudius was born, and where Severus lived. The grtat ca- thedral of St. John is a good guthick building, and its clock much admired by the Germans. In one of the most conspicuous parts of the town, is the late king's statue set up, trampling upon' mankind.- 1 can- not forbear saying one word here of the French statues (for I never intend to mention any more of them) with their gilded full-bottomed wiis. If their king had intended to express in one image ignorance, ill taste, and vanity, his sculptors could have made no other figure, so proper for that purpose, as this statue, which represents the odd mixture of an old beau, who had a mind to be a hero, with a bushel of curled hair on his head, and a gilt truncheou ia his hand. — The French have been so voluminous on the hisiTory ©f this town, I need say nothing of it. 212 LETTERS The houses are tolerably well built, and the Belle- co/^r well planted, from whence is seen the celebrated joining of the Saone and Rhone. « Ubi Rhodanus ingens amne pra?rapido fluit. « Araque dubitans quo sues fluctus agat. » I have had time to see every thing with great leisure, having been confined several days to this town by a swelling in my throat, the remains of a fever occa- sioned by a cold I got in the damps of the Alps. The doctors here threaten me with all sorts of dis- tempers, if 1 dare to leave them; but I, that know the obstinacy of it, think it just as possible to con- tinue ray way to Paris with it, as to go about the streets of Lyons, and am determined to pursue my journey to-morrow, in spite of doctors, apothecaries, and sore throats. When you see Lady R , tell her I have re- ceived her letter, and will answer it from Paris,' believing that the place that she would most willingly hear of. 1 am, etc. etc. XLIX. TotheLa^dy R . Paris, October lo, O. S. 1718. X o A N N o T give my dear Lady R a better proof of the pleasure I have in writing to her,, than chusing to do it in this seat of various amusements, where I am accablee with visits, and those so full of vivacity OF LADT MONTAGUE. ai5 and compliments, tbat it is fall employment enougk to hearken, whether one answers or not. The French ambassadress at Constantinople has a vei^ conside- rable and numerous family here, who all come to see me, and are never weary of making enquiries. The air of Paris has already had a good cflect on me ; for I was ne^'er in better health, though I have been extremely ill all the road from Lyons to thispl;ice. You may judge how agreeable the journey has been to me, which did not want that addition to make rae dislike it. I think nothing so terrible as objects of misery, except one had the god-like attribute of being capa- ble to redress them : and all the country villages of France shew nothing else. While the post-horses are changed, the whole town comes out to beg, with sucb miserable starved faces, and thin tattered cloaths, they need no other eloquence to persuade one of the wretchedness of their condition. — This is all the French magnificence, till you come to Fontainebleau, where yon are shewed one thousand five hundred rooms, in the king's hunting-palace. The apartments of the royal family are very large, and richly gilt ; but ksaw nothing in the architecture or })ainting worth remembering. The long gallery built by Henry IV haa prospects of all the king's houses. Its walls are desi- gned after the taste of those times, but appear now very mean. The park is indeed finely wooded and watered, the trees well grown and planted, and in the 3sh-ponds are kept tame carp . said to be some of them iighty years of age. The late king passed some months »very year at this seat ; and all the rocks around it, 3y the pious sentences inscrib^'d on them, shew the ai4 LETTERS devotion in fashion at this court, which I believe died with him; at least I see no exterior marks of it at Paris, where all people's thoughts seem to be on pre- sent diversion . The fair of St. Lawrence is now in season. — Tou may be sure I have been carried thither, and think it much better disposed that ours of Bartholomew. The shops beinj:: all set in rows so regularly and well- lighted, they made up a vei-y agreeable spectacle. But I Was not at all satisfied with the ^rossi'erete of their harlequin, no more than with their niusick at the opera, which was abominabl-v grating, after being used to that of Italy; Their house is a booth compa- red to that of the Hay-market, and the play-house not so neat as that of Lincoln's-lnn -fields ; but then it must be owned, to their praise, their tragedians are mirch beyond any of ours. I should hardly allow Mrs. O d a better place than to be confidente to Zfl— .. I have seen the tragedy of Bajazet so well represented, that I think our best actors can be only said to speak, but these to feel ; and it is certainly in- finitely more moving to see a man appear unhappy, than to hear him say that he is so, with a jolly facafc and a stupid smirk in his countenance. — A propos of countenances, I must ttli you something of the French ladies ; I have seen all the beauties, and such ( I can't help making use of the coa ise word ) nauseous creatures, so fantastically absurd in their dress, so monstrously unnatural in their paints, their hair cut short, and curled round their faces, and so loaded with powder, that it makes it look like white wool, P and on their checks to their chins. unmcrcifuUv laid \} OF LADY 31 O N i A C L V.. 2 1 ■', on a shiniapf red japan, that glistens in a most flaming manner , so that they seem to have no resemblance to human faces. lam apt to believe that they took the first hint of their dress from a fair sheep ne'.vlv rud- dled. It is with pleasure I recollect my dear pretty ooiin- ti-y-women:and if I was writing lo any body else, I should say that these grotesque daubers ppve me a still higher esteem of the natural charms ofdear Lady R 's auburn hair, and the lively colours of her unsullied complexion. I am, etc. etc, P. S. I ha\e met the ^-^/'beherc. who desire* ine to make his rompiiments io yon. L. To Mb. T . Paris, October t^, O. S. 171*5. X on see I am just to my word in writing to yon from Paris, where I was very much surprized to meet my sister :I need not add, ^ cry mnch pleased. Sheas little expected to see me as I her ( having not received my late let^rs ) and this meeting would shine in the hands of Scudery ; but I shall not imitate his style so far as to tell you how often we embraced, how she enquired by what odd chance I returned from Cou- atantinople : and I answered her by asking what ad- venture brought her to Paris. To shorten the story, all questions and answers, and exclamations and com- pliments being over, we agreed upon ruuaing about ^i& LETTERS togethei', aud have seen Versailles, Trianon, Marli, and St. Cloud. We had an order for the water to play for our diversion, and I was followed thither by all the English at Paris. I own Versailles appeared to me rather vast than beautiful ; and, after having seen the exact proportions of the Italian buildings, I thought the irregularity of it shocking. The king's cabinets of antiquities and medals are, indeed, very richly furnished. Amongst that collec- tion, none pleased me so well as the apotheosis of Gerraanicus, on a large agate, which is one of the most dfclicate pieces of the kind that I remember to | ' have seen. I observed some ancient statues of great Vcllue. — But the nauseous flattery and tawdry pencil of Le Brun are equally disgusting in the gallery. I will not pretend to describe to you the great apart- ment, the vast variety of fountains, the theatre, the grove of Aesop's fables, etc., all which you may read very amply particularized in some of the French authors, that have been paid for these descriplions'. Trianon, in its littleness, pleased me better than Versailles ; Marli, better than either of them, and St. j* Cloud, best of all, having the advantage of the Seine jf running at the bottom of the gardens, the great cas- * cade, etc. You may find information in ibe aforesaid books, if you have a mind to know the exact number of the statues, and how many feet they cast up the water. Wesawthekiug'spicturesin the magnificent house ^ of the duke d'Antin, who has the care of preserving " ihem till his majesty is of age. There are not many, I* bat of the best hands. I looked with great pleasure oob OF LADY M O N T A G L' E. 217 the Arch-angel of Raphael, where the sentiments of superior beings are as well expressed as in Milton. You won't forgive me, if I say noth.ng of the Tuit- leries^ much finer than our Mall, an«l thf Cour more agreeable than our Hyde-Park, the high trees giving shade in the hottest Sv-ason. At the Louvre. I had the opportunity of seeing the king, accompanied by the duke regent. He is tall and well shaped, hut has not the air of holding the crown so many years as his great grandfather. And now I am speakinr of the court, I must say I saw nothing in France that delight- ed me so much as to see an hnolishman Cat least t Briton ) absolute at Paris ; I mean Mr. Law, who treats their dukes and peers extremely de haut en bas^ and is^ treated by them with the utmost submissioa and respect. — Poor souls I — Ihis reflection on their abject slavery puts me in mind of the place des y ictoires; but I will not take up your time and my own with such descriptions, which are too nu- merous. In general, I think Paris has the advantage of Lon- don in the neat pavement oi the streets, and the re- gular lighting of them at nights, in the proportion of the streets, the houses being ail built of stone, and most of those belonging to people of quality being beautified bv gardens. JBut we certainly may boast of \ town very near twice as large ; and, when I have said that, I know nothing else we surpass it in. I shall not ontinue here long ; if you have any thing to cora- tnand me during my short stay, write soou, and Z jball take pleasure in obeying you. I am, etc. etc, 70 ai8 LETTERS LI. To THE Abbot Dover, October 3i, O. S. 1718. 1am willing to take your word for it, that I shall really oblige you by letting you know, as soon as pos- sible, my safe passage over the water. 1 arrived this morning at Dover, after being tossed a whole night in the packet-boat in so violent a manner, that the mas- ter, considering the weakness of his vessel, thought it proper to remove the mail, and gave us notice of the danger. We called a little fishing-boat, which could hardly make up to us; while all the people on board us were crying to heaven. 'Tis hard to imagine one's self in a scene of greater horror than on such an occasion, and yet ( shall I own it to you ? ) though I was not at all willing to be drowned, I could not forbear being entertained at the doable distress of a fellow-passenger. She wa.s an English lady that I had met at Calais, who desired me to let her go over with me in my cabin. She had bought a line point head, which she was contriving to conceal from the custom- house ofllcers. When the wjnd grew hard, and out little vessel cracked, she fell very heartily to her prayers, and thought wholly of her soul. When it seemed to abate, she returned to the worldly care of her head-dress, and addressed herself to me : — a Dear « madam, will you take care of this point ? if it should « be lost ! — Ah lord, we shall ail be lost ! Lord have K iHcrcy on my soul ! — Pray, madam, take care coal when they fall in her way. As marriage produces children, so children pro- duce care and disputes; and wrangling, as is said (at least by old bachelors and old maids ), is one of the sweets of the conjugal state. You tell me that our friend Mrs. is at length blessed with a son, and that her husband, who is a great philosopher (if hi« 224 LETTERS own testimony is to be depended upon ), insists on her suckling it kerself. You ask my advice on this matter, and, to give it you frankly,! really think that Mr. 's demand is unreasonable, as his wife's constitution is tender, and her temper fretful. A true philosopher would consider these circumstances ; but a pedant is alw ays throwing his system in your face, and applies it equally to all things, times, and places^ just like a taylor who would make a coat out of his own head, without any regard to the bulk and fjgur? of the person that must wear it. All those fine-spun arguments that he has drawn from nature to stop your mouths, weigh, I must own to you, but very little with me. — This same nature is indeed a specious word, nay, there is a great deal in it, if it is properly understood and applied ; but I cannot bear to hear people using it to justify what common sense raust disavow. Is not nature modified by art in many things? Was it not designed to be so ? and is it not happy for iiuraan society that it is so ? Would you like to see your husband let his beard grow until he would he obliged to put the end o/ it in his pocket, because this beard is the gift of nature? The instincts of na- ture point out neither taylors, nor weavers, norman- tua-makers, nor sempstresses, nor milliners : and yet I I am very glad that we don't run naked hke the Hot- \ tentots. But not to wander from th^ subject — I grant ^ that nature has furnished the mother with milk to nourish her child ; but I maintain, at the same time, that if she can find better nailk elsewhere, she ought to prefer it without hesitation, I don't see why she should have more scruple to do this, than her hns- O F L A D Y M O N T A G U E. aaA band has to leave the clear fountain which nature gave him to quench his thirst, for stout October, port, or claret. Indeed, if Mrs. was a buxom, sturdy woman, who lived on plain food, took regular exercise, enjoyed proper returns of rest, and was free from violent passions (which you and I know is not the case), she might he a good nurse for her child; hut, as matters stand, I do verilv think that the milk of a good comely cow, who feeds quietly in her meadow, never devours ragouts, nor drinks ratafia, nor frets at quadrille, nor sits up till three in the inorning, elated with gain or dejected with loss; I do think that the milk of such a cow, or of a nurse that came as near it as possible, would be likely to nourish the young 'squire better than hers. If it be true that the child sucks in the mother's passions with her milk, this is a strong argument in favour of the cow, unless you may be afraid that the young 'squire may become a calf: but how many calves are there both in state and church, who have been brought up with their mother's milk.'* I promise faithfully to communicate to no mortal the letter you wrote me last, — "VA'hat you say of the two rebel lords, I believe to be true ; but I can do nothing in the matter. — If my projects don't fail in the execution, I shall see you before a month, passes. Give my services to Dr. Rlackbeard. — He is a good man, but I never saw in my life such a persecuting face cover a humane and tender heart. I imagine (within myself) that the Smithfield priests, who burned the protestants in the time of queen Mary, had just such faces as the doctor's. If we 2a6 LETTERS were papists, I should like liim Aery much for my confessor; his seeming austerity would give you and me a great reputation for sanctity, and his good in- dulgent heart would be the very thing that would suit us in the affair of penance and ghostly direction. Farewell, my dear lady, etc. etp. LIV. To THE Abbot OF . Vienna, January 2, O.S. 1717. X AM really almost tired with the life of Yienna. lam not, indeed, an enemy to dissipation and hurry, much less to amusement and pleasure : but I cannot endure long even pleasure, when it is fettered with formality, and assumes the air of system. 'Tis true I have had here some very agreeable connexions, and, what will perhaps surprize you, have particular pleasure in my Spanish acquaintances, count Oro- pesa and general Puebla. These two noblemen are much in the good graces of the emperor, and yet they seem to be brewing mischief. The court of Madrid cannot reflect without pain upon the terri- tories that w ere cut off from the Spanish monarchy by the peace of Utrecht, and it seems to be looking wishfully out for an opportunity of getting them back again. That is a matter about which I trouble myself very little : let the court be in the right or in the wrong, I like mightily the two counts, its mi^ nisters. I dined with them both some days ago at count Wurmbrand's, an aulick counsellor and a man OF LADY MO NT AG UK. 227 of letters, wlio is universally esteemed here. But the first man at this court, in point of knowledge snd abilities, is certainly count Sclilick, higb-cliancellor of Bohemia, \Yhose immense reading is accompanied with a line taste and a solid jud;4ment : he is a de- clared enemy to prince Eugene, and a warm friend to the honest hot-headed marshal! Staremhcr^'^. Oue of the most accomplished men I have seen at ^ ienna^ is the young count Tarrocco, who accompanies the amiable prince of Portugal. I am almost in love with them both, and wonder to see such elc.-ant manners and such free and generous sentiments in two vonnp men that have hitherto seen nothing bnt their own country. The count is just such a Roman catholick as you: he succeeds greatly with the devout beauties here; his first overtures in gallantly are disguised under the luscious strains of sp'ritnal love, that were sung formerly by the sublimely voluptuous Fenelon and the tender madame Guion, who turned the lire of carnal love to divine objects : thus the count begins with the >pirit, and ends generally with the flesh, when he makes his addresses to holy virgins. I made acquaintance yesterday with the famous poet Rousseau, who lives here under tlie peculiar protection of prince Eugene, by whose liberality he subsists. He passes here for a free-thinker, and, what is still worse in my esteem, for a man whose heart does not feel the encomiums he gives to virtue and honour in his poems. I like hiis odes mightily; they are much superior to the lyrick productions of our English poets, few of whom have made any ligare in 22$ LETTERS that kind of poetry. I don't find that learned men ahound here : there is indeed a prodigious number of alchymists at Vienna ; the philosopher's stone is the great object of zeal and science ; and those who have more reading and capacity than the vulgar, have transported their superstition ( shall I call it?) or fanaticism from religion to chymistry; and they believe in a new kind of transubstantiation, which is designed to make the laity as rich as the other kind has made the priesthood. This pestilential pas- sion has already ruined several great houses. There is scarcely a man of opulence or faslaion, that has not an alchymist in his service, and even the em peror is supposed to be no enemy to this folly in secret, though he has pretended to discourage it in publick. Prince Eugene was so polite as to shew me his library yesterday ; we found him attended by Rous- seau and his favourite count Bonnei>al, who is a man of wit, and is here thought a very bold and enterprizing spir.t. The library, thoui:;h not very ample, is well chosen ; but as the pr.nce will admit into it no editions but what are beaut. iul and plea- sing to the eye, and there are nevertheless numbers of excellent books that are but ind.fierentiy printed, . this finikin and foppish taste makes many disagree- able chasms in this collection. The books are pom- pously bound in Turkey leather, and two of the most famous bookbinders of Paris were expressly sent for to do this work. Bonneval pleasantly told me that there were several quartos on the art of war, that were bound with the skins of spahis and janizaries; and OF LADY MONTAGUE. aaj^ this jest, which was indeed elejjant, raised a smile of pleasure on the grave countenance of the famous warrior, ihe prince, who is a connoisseur in the fine arts, shewed me with particular pleasure the famous collect on of portraits, that formerly beiouged to Fouquet, and v\hich he purchased at an excessive pnce. He has augmented it with a considerable num- ber of new acquisitons, so that he has now in his possession such a collection in that kind as you will scarcely find in any ten cabinets in Europe. If I told you the number, you wouid say that I make an indiscreet use of the permission to lie, which is more or less given to travellers by the indulgence of the candid. Count Tarrocco is Just come in : — he is the only person I have excepted this morning in my general order to receive no company. — I think I see you smile, — but I am not so far gone as to stand in need of absolution; though, as the human heart is deceit- ful, and the count very agreeable, you may think that, even though I should not want an absolution, I would nevertheless be glad to have an indulgence. — No such thinfi!^. ■ — However, as I am a heretick, and you no confessor, I shall make no declaration* on this head. — The design of the count's visit Is a ball; — ^nore pleasure. — I shall be surfeited. Adieu, etc. aSo LETTERS LV. To Mr. P . September i, 17 17. VV HEN I wrote to you last, Belgrade was in the bands of tlie Turks; but, at this present moment, it has changed masters, and is in the hands of the Im- perialists. A janizary, who, in nine days, and yet without any wings but uhat a panick terror seems to have furnished, arrived at Constantinople from the army of the Turks before Belgrade, brought Mr. W the news of a compleat victory obtained bv the Imperialists, commanded by prince Eugene, over 1 the Otioman troops. It is said the prince has dis- covered great conduct and valour in this action, and I am particularly glad that the voice of glory and; duty has called him from the — ( here several ■words\ of the manuscript are effaced). — Two days after the battle the town surrendered. The consternation which this defeat has occasioned here is inexpressi- ble ; and the sultan, apprehending a revolution from the resentment and indignation of the people, fo- mented by certain leaders, has begun his precautions, after the goodly fashion of this blessed government, by ordering several persons to be strangled, who were the objects of his royal suspicion. He has also I ordered his treasurer to advance some months pay to the janizaries, which seems tbe less necessary, as their conduct has been bad in this campaign, and, their licentious ferocity seems pretty well tamed by OF LADY MONTAGUE. aSi the publick contempt. Such of them as return ia straggling and fugitive p.irties to the nietropohs, have not spirit nor credit enough to defend them- selves from the insults of the mob ; the very children taunt them, and the populace spit in their faces as thev pass. They refused during the battle to lend their assistance to save the baggage and the military chest, which, however, were defended by the pachas and their retinue, while the janizaries and spahis vsrere nobly employed in plundering their own camp. You see here that I give you a very handsome return .^or 3>onr obliging letter. You entertain me with a mo"it agreeable account of your amiable con- nexions with men of letters and taste, and of the de- licious moments you pass in their society under the rural shade ; attd I exhibit to you in return the bar- baroas spectacle of Turks and Germans cutting one another's throats. But what can you expect from such a country as this, from which the Muses have fled, Tiora which letters seem eternally banished, and in which you see, in private scenes, nothing pursued as happinei^, bet "jhe refinements of an indolent vo- luptuousness, «na where those who act upon the publick theatre live in uncertainty, suspicion, and terror ? Here Tjleasure, to which I am no enemy w heu it is propeily seasoned and of a good composition^ is surely of the cloying kind. Veins of wit, elegant conversation, easy commerce, are unknown amoug the Turks ; and yet thev seem capable of all these, if the vile spirit of their government did not stifle genius, damp curiosity, and suppress a hundred pas- sions that embelhsh and render life agrcoable. The aSa LETTERS luscious passion of the seraglio is the only one almost that is gratified here to the full; but it is blended so with the sur'y spirit of despotism in one of the parties, and with the dejection and anxiety which this spirit produces in the other, that to one of my way of thinking it cannot appear otherwise than as a very mixed kind of enjoyment. The women here are not, indeed, so cJosely confined as many have related; they enjoy a high degree of liberty, even in the bosom of servitude, and they have methods of evasion and disguise that are very favourable to gal- lantry : but after all, they are still under uneasy ap- prehensions of being discovered ; and a discovery exposes them to the most merciless rage of jealousy, which is here a monster that cannot be satiated but with blood. The magnificence and riches that reign in the apartments of the laches of fashion here, seem to be one of their chief pleasures, joined with their retinue of female slaves, -whose musick, dancing and_ dress amuse them highly.- — But there is .such an air of form and stiffness amidst this grandeur, as hinders it from pleasing me at long run, however I was dazzled with it at first sight. ITiis stiffness and for- nrahty of manners are peculiar to the Turkish ladies; for the Grecian belles are of quite another character and complexion ; with them pleasure appears in more engaging forms, and their persons, manners, conver- sation, and amusements are veiy far from being des- titute of elegance and ease. I received the news of Mr. Addison's being de- clared secretary of state with the less surprize, in that I know that post was almost offered to him be- OF LADY MONTAGUE. 233 fore. At that time he declined it, and I really believe that he would have done well to have declined it now. such a post as that^and such a wife as the countess, do not seem to i>e, in prudence, eligible for a man that is asthmatick, and we may see the day when he will be heartily glad to resign them both. It is well that he laid aside the thoughts of the voluminous dictionary of which I have heard vou or somebody else frequently make mention. But no more on that subject; I would not have said so much, were I not assured that this letter will come safe and un- opened to hand. I long much to tread upon English ground, that I may see you and Mr, Conpreve. who render that ground elassick ground ; nor will you refuse our present secretary a part of that merit, what- ever reasons you may have to be dissatislied with him in other resfiects. You are the three hapj)iest poets I ever heard of; one a secretary of stau>, the other en- joying leisure with dignity in two lucrative employ- ments ; and you, though your religious profession is an obstacle to court promotion, and disqualifies you fiom lliling civil employments, have found the phi- losopher's stone, s:nce by making the Il'ad pass through your poetical crucible into an English form, without losing aughi of its original beauty, \ou have drawn the golden current of Pactolus to Twickenham. I call this finding the philosopher's slone, since you alone found out the secret, and noi)odv c!se has got into it. A — n f^nd T 1 tried it, but their experi"< ments failed, and they lost, if not their money, at least a certain portion of their fame in the trial — while you touched the niantle of the divine bard, 20. 234 LETTERS and imbibed his spirit. I hope we shall have the Odyssey soon from your happy hand, and I think I shall follow with singular pleasure the traveller Ulysses, who was an observer of men and manners, when he travels in your harmon"ous numbers. I love him much better than the hot-headed son of Peleus, who bullied his general, cried for his mistress, and so on. It is true, the excellence of the Iliad does not depend upon his merit or dignity ; but I wish ne- vertheless that Homer had chosen a hero somewhat less pettish and less fantastick : a perfect hero is chi- merical and unnatural, and consequently uninstrac- tive ; but it is also true that while the epick hero ought to be drawn with the infirmities that are the lot of humanity, he ought never to be represented as extremely absurd. But it becomes me ill to P'ay the critick; so I take my leave of you for this time, and desire you will beheve me, with the highest es- teem. Your*, etc. LVI, To THE Countess of .(i) Saturday. — Florence. X sE T out from Bologna the moment I had finished the letter I wrote you on monf.lay last, and shall now (i) As this letter is tlie supplement to a preceding one, which is not come to the hands of the editor, it was, probably on that account^ sent without a date. It seems evidently to have been written after lady M. W. M. had fixed her residence in Italy, or LADY MONTAGUE. 2.35 continue to inform you of the things that have struck me most in this excursion. Sad roads — hilly and rocky — between Rologna and Fierenzuola. Between this latter place and Florence, I went out of my road to visit the monastery of la Trappe^ which is of French origin, and one of the most austere and self-denying orders I have met with. In this gloomy retreat it gave me pain to observe the infatuation of men who have devoutly reduced themselves to a much worse condition than that of the beasts. Folly yon see is the iot of humanity, whether it arises in the flowery paths of pleasure, or the thorny ones of an ill-judged devotion. But of the two sorts of fools, I shall always think that the merry one has the most eligible fate ; and I cannot well form a notion of that spiritual and exstatick joy that is m.xed with sighs, groans, hunger and thirst, and the other complicated miseries of monastick discipline. It is a strange way of going to work for happiness, to excite an enmity between soui and tody, whicii nature and Providence have designed to hve together in union and friend- ship, and which we cannot separate like man and wife •when they happen to disagree. The profound silence that is enjoined upon the monks of la Trappe, is a singular circumstance of their unsociable and unnatural discipline ; and were this injunction never to be dispensed with, it would be neediess to visit them in any other character than as a collection of statues : but the superior of the convent suspended in our favour that rigorous law, and allowed one of the mates to converse with me, and answer a few discreet questions. He told me that the monks of 236 LETTERS this order in France are still more austere than those of Italy, as they never taste wine, flesh, fish, or eggs,' hut live entirely upon vegetables. The ^tory that is. told of the institution of this order i.s remarkable,^ and is well attested, if my information be good. Its founder was a Irench nobleman whose name was Bouthillier tie Rance^ a man of pleasure and gal- lantry, which were converted into the deepest gloom of devotion by the following incident. His affairs obliged him to absent himself, for some time, from a lady with whom he had lived in the most intimate and tender connexions of successful love. At his return to Paris, he proposed to surprize her a greei»b]y, and, at the same time to satisfy his own impatient desire of seeing her, by going directly and without ceremony to her apartment by a back stair which he was well acquainted with. — Rut think of the spectacle that presented itself to him at his entrance into the chamber that had so often been the scene of love's highest raptures ! his mistress dead — dead of the small-pox — disfigured beyond expression — a loath- some mass of putrified matter; — and the surgeon separating the head from the body, because the coffin had been made too short! He stood for a moment motionless in amazement, and filled with horror — and then retired from the world, shut himself up in the convent of la Trappe^ where be passed the remainder of his days in the most cruel and disconsolate devotion — Let us quit this sad subject. I must not forget to tell you that before I came tears in our royal gardens : this pro- diga'ity is owing to the levity and inconstancy of the French taste, which always pants after something new, and thus heaps ornament upon ornament without end or measure. It is time, however, that I should put an end to my letter; so I wish you good night, And am, etc. LVIII. To THE Count . Translated from the French . 1am charmed, Sir, with your ohliging letter; and you may perceive by the largeness of ray paper, that I intend to give punctual answers to all your ques- tions, at least if my French will permit me; for, as it is a language I do not understand to perfection, so I much fear that, for want of expressions, I shall be quickly obliged to finish. Keep in mind, therefore, that I am writing in a foreign language, and be sure to attribute all the impertinences and triflings drop- ping from my pen, to the want of proper words for declaring ray thoughts, but by no means to dulness or natural levity. These conditions being thus agreed and settled, I begin with telling you that you have a true notion of the alcoran, concerning which the Greek priests ( who are the greatest scoundrels in the universe ) have invented out of their own heads a thousand ri- diculous stories, in order to decry the law of Ma- homet; to run it down, I say, without any cxami- OF LADY MONTAGUE. 245 nation, or so much as letting the people read it; being afraid that if once they began to sift the defects of the alcoran, they might not stop there, but pro- ceed to make use of their judgment about their own legends and iictions. In effect, there is nothing so hke as the fables of the Greeks and of the Maho- metans ; and the last have multitudes o' saints, at whose tombs miracles are by them said to be daily performed ; nor are the accounts of the lives of those blessed Mussulmans much less stulfed with extravagancies than the spiritual romances of the Greek papas. As to your next enquiry, I assure you it is crp- tainly false, though commonly believed in our parts of the world, that Mahomet excludes women from any shave in a future happy state. He was too much a gentleman, and loved the fair sex too well, to use them so barbarously. On the contrary, he promises a very fine paradise to the Turkish women. He says, indeed, that this paradise wLl be a sepaiate place from that of their husbands; but I fancy the most part of them won't like it the worse for that, and that the regret of this separation will not render their paradise the less agreeable. It remains to tell you that the virtues which Mahomet requires of the women, to merit the enjoyment of future ha])pincss, are not to live in such a manner as to become use- less to the world, but to employ themselves, as much as possible, in making little Mussulmaus. The virgins who die virgins and the widows who many not again, dying in mortal sir;, ate excluded out of para^ ♦lise; for women, says he, no! hemg oopablc to ma- a46 LETTERS nage the affairs of state, nor to support the fatigues of war, God has not ordered them to govern or re- form the world ; but he has entrusted them with an office which is not less honourable, even that of multipiyin'^ the human race : and such as, out of mibce or laziness, do not make it their business to bear or to Kreed children, fulill not the duly of their vocation, and rebel against the commands of God. Hert" are maxims for you, prodigiously contrary to those of your convents. What will become oi your St. Catharines, your St. Theresas, your St. Claras, and the who^e bead-roll of your holy virgins and widows, who, if they are to be judj;ed by this sy.stem of virtue, will be found to have been infamous creatures, that passed their whole lives in a most abomintble libertinism ? 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 isnorant as we fancy them to be, in matters of politicks or philosophy, or even of gallantry. It is true that military discipline, such as now practised in Christendom, does not mightily suit them. Along peace has plunged them into an universal sloth. Con- tent with their condition, and accustomed to bound- less luxury, they are become great enemies to all manner of fatigues. Rut to make amends, the sciences flourish among them. The effendis ( that is to say, the learned men ) do very well deserve this name : they have no more faith in the inspiration of Maho- met, than in the infallibility of the pope. They make a frank profession of deism among themselves, of or LADY MONTAGUE. 247 to those they can trust, and never speak of the law bntas of a politick institution, lit now to be observed by wise men, however at first introduced by poUti- cians and enthusiasts. If I remember ripht, I think I have told you in some former letter, that at Belgrade we lodged with a great and rich effeudi, a man of wit and Jearriing, and of a very agreeable humour. We were in his house about a mouth, and he djd constantly eat with us, drinking wine without any scruple. As I ral- lied him a httie 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 Avas surprized to heav \ bim ask, among other things, how INlr. Toland did. 14- My paper, large as it is. draws towards an end. That I may not go beyond its limits, I must leap from re- ligion to tulips, conceruing which you ask me news. Their mixture produces surprizing effects ; but what is to be observed most surprizing, is the experi- ments of which you speak concerning animals, and which is tried here every day. The suburbs of Pera, Jophana, and Gaiata, ^i e collections of strangers from all countries of the universe. They have so often intero^mried, that this forms §everal races of people, 248 LETTERS 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 Itahan, the grand-father a Frenchman., the grand-mother an Armenian, and their ancestors English, Muscovites, Asiaticks, etc. This mixture produces creatures more extraordi- nary 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 speciiick differences under the same general kind, as greyhounds, mas- tiffs, spaniels, bull-dogs, and the race of my little Diana, if nobody is offended at the comparison. Now, as the various intermixing of these latter ani- mals causes mungrels, so mankind have their mun- grels too, divided and subdivided into endless sorts. We have dally 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 thoughtfuluess, bordering a little upon dulness, which many of us have inherited from the stupidity of our Saxon pro- genitors. 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 na- ture's opposite in extremes, 'tis a pleasure to observe how the differing atoms are perpetually jarrin:: to- gether in the children , even so as to pr6dugfe,effect6 O I LADY M O N T A G U E. 249 visible in their external form. Tbey have the large black eves of the country, with the fat, white, lishy flesh of Holland, and a lively air streaked with dnl- ness. At one and the same time, they shew that love of expensiveness, so universal araon^' the Greeks, and an iuclinat.on 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 coinmonlv 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 their singulaii- ties to comraunitate to yon, but I am at the end both of my French and my paper. Concerning Monsieur de la Rochefou- cauld's Maxim: « That Marriage is « somenmes convenient^ but never de- « iightfiii. » Xt may be thought a presumptuous attempt in me to controvert a maxim ad\anred by such a celebra- ted genius as monsieur de la Rochefoucauid, and received with such implicit faith bv a nation which boasts of superior politeness to the rest ot tlie world, and which for a long time past has prescribed the rules of gallautry to all Europe. Nevertheless, prompted by that ardour which a5o LETTERS truth inspires, I dare to maintain the contrary, and resolutely insist that there are some marriages for- med by love, which may he delightful, where the affections are sympathetick. 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, avaiice, va- nity, when enjoyed in the most exquisite perfec- tion, can yield but trifling and tasteless pleasures, which will be too inconsiderable to affect a mind of dehcate sensibility. We may consider the gifts of fortune as so many steps necessary to arrive at feUcity, 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 fehcity 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 desci'i- bed 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 OF LADY MONTAGUE. i5i they have described under the iigore of a satyr, who has more of the brute than of the man in his com- position. By this fabulous aniiual they Jiave expres- sed a passion which is the real foundation of all tbie fine exploits of modish gallantry, and which only endeavours to glut its aj)petite with the possesion of the object which is most lovely in its estimation; a passion founded in injustice, supported by deceit, and attended by crimes, renjorse, jealousy, and con- tempt. Can such an affection be delightful to a vir- tuous mind ? iVevertheless such is tbe delightful at- tendant on all illicit engagements ; ga Hants 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 embit- tered by remorse, and to be reduced to the deplora- ble condition of having renounced virtue, without beiUjT able to make vice agreeable. It is impossible to taste the deligbts of love in per- fection, but in a well assorted marriage ; -nothing be- trays such a narrowness of mind as to be governed by words. What though custom, for which good rea- sons may be assigned, has made the words husband and wife somewhat ridiculous. A husband, in com- mon acceptation, signifies a jealous brute, a surly tyrant : or at best a weak fool, A^ho may be made to believe any thing. A wife is a domestick termagant, who is destined to deceive or torment the poor devil of a husband. The conduct of married people in ge- neral sufficiently justiiies these two characters. But, as I said before, why should words impo.se 252 LETTERS wpon us? A well regulated marriage is not like these connections of interest or ambition. A fond couple, attached to each other by mutnal affection, are nvo lovers T\ho live happily together. Though the priest pronounces certain Avords, though the lawyer draws np certain !nst(uments;yet I look on these prepara- tives 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 by what price or by what means their union is accom- plished ? Where love is real and well founded, it is impossible to be happy but in the quiet enjoyment of the beloved object, and ihe 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 dehcacy 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 givmg his mistress the last testimony of esteem and confidence; and she, in re- turn, commits her peace and liberty to his protection. Can thev exchange more dear and affectionate pledges.^ Is it not natural to give the most incontes- table proofs of that tenderness with which our minds are impressed.^ I am sensible that some are so nice as lo maintain that the pleasures of love are derived /rom the dangers and difficulties with which it is attended ; they very pertly observe that a rose would O F LADY M O N T A O U E. a5 3 not be a rose without thorns. There are a thonsaDd insipid remarks of this sort, which make so Uttle impressija on nie, that I am persuaded, was I a lover, the dread of injuring my mLstress would make me unhappy, if the enjoyment of her was attended with danger to herseJf. Two married iov^r.s lead very different lives : they have the pleasure to pass their time in a successive intercourse of mutuai ohligations and marks of bene- volence, and they have the delight to iind that each, forms the entire happiness of the beloved object. Herein consists perfect fehcity. The most trivial cou- cerus of ceconomv become noble and elegant when they are exalted by sentiments of affection : to 'ur- ntsh an apartment, is not barely to furnish an apari- raentj it is a pl.tce where I expect my Jover: to prepare a supper, is not merely giving orders to my cook; it is an amusement to regale the object I doat on. In this light, a woman considers these necessary occupations as more liv^dy and affecting pleasures, than those gaudy sights which amuse the greater part of the sex, who are incapable of trtie enjoyment. A lixed and affectionate attachment softens every emotion of the soul, and renders every object agree- able 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 trou- bles of the court, all become agreeable \\heu he reflects that he endures these incooveu.ences to serve the object of his a'fect ons. If fortune is favoaiable to him, for success does not depend on merit, all the advantages it procures are so many tributes 254 LETTERS 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, thdn that of raising his fortune and ga.ning publick applause. He enjoys glory, titles, and r-ches, no farther than as they regard her lie 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 ret ring to one who is affected by his dis/race ; and, locked in her embraces, he has the satisfaction of giving utterance to the following tender reflections: 'f My happiness does not dej)end on the caprice « of fortune; I have a constant asylum against in- « quietude. Your esteem renders me insensible oi the i< injustice of a court, or the ingratitude of a master, « and my losses afford me a kind of pleasure, since oia tender fi'iendshtp, daily growing up, and of amusing onrscives, accord- ing to our different sexes, in training them to per- fection. We give way to this agreeable instinct of nature refined by love. In a dau'^^hter we praise the beauty of her mother; in a son we commend the un- derstanding and the appearance of innate probity which we esteem in h's lather. 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 primiti\ eplan of felicilv iniin.tely surpas-es all others; and I cannot form an idea of paradise, more Uke a paradise, than the state in which our first parents were placed : that proved of short dura- tjon, 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 lo no purpose, frr their affections must necessarily be short-li^•ed. In the transports of their loVe, thev form supernatural ideas of each other: the man thinks his mistress an angel, because she is handsome ; and >he is enraptu- red with the merits of her lover, because he adores her. Ihe first decay of her complexion deprives her of his adoratiou; and the husband, being no longer an adorer, becomes hateful to her, who had no other loundation for her love. T.v decrees t'lev grow dis- 256 LETTERS gustfal to each other, and, after the example of ont iirst parents, they do not fail to reproach each other %\'ith the crime of their mutual imbecility. After in- thfference, contempt comes apace, and they are con- Tinced that tl^py 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 at- tended with no other consequences. A man, when he marries the object of his affec- tions, should forget that she appears to him adora- ble, and should consider her merely as a mortal sub- ject to disorders, caprice, and ill-temper ; he should orm himself with iortitude to bear the loss of her beauty, and should provide himself with a fund of complaisance which is requisite to support a con- stant intercourse with a person even of th'e highest understanding and the greatest equanimity. The wife, on the other hand, should not expect a conti- nued course ol adulation and obedience; she should di'^pose herse :f 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 oi^ the mistress by the sohdity and good sense of the friend. When a pair, who entertain such rational senti- ments, are united by indissoluble bonds, all nature smiles ripou them, and the most common appear de- Ijght/ul. In my opinion, sueha life is infinitely more OF LAD Y MONTAGUE. a57 happy and more voluptuous thau the most ravishing and best regulated gallantry, A woman who is capable of reflection can con- sider a gallant in no oiher light than that of a se- ducer who would take advantage of her weakness to procure a momentary pleasure at the expence of her glory, her peace, her honom-, and perhaps her life. A highwayman who daps a pistol to your breast, to rob you of your purse, is Jess 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 pas- sion to which she must sacrifice her honour, her tranquility, and her virtue. Shouidlmake her despicable, who appears amiable in my eyes ? should I reward her tendei'ness by ma- king her abhorred by her famdy, by rendering her children indifferent to her, and her husband detest- able .'• I believe that these reflections would have ap peared to me in as strong a light as 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 ihc fashion. IV. B. I am much pleased with thp Tuikish man- ners : a people, though ignorant, yet in my i'udgtuent extremely polite. A gallant convicted of having de- bauched a married woman is regarded as a pemcions beiu^, and held in the same aLhorrt^iceas a prostitute 27. 958 LETTERS witb US. He is certain of never makmgliis fortune, and they would deem it scandalous to confer any considerable employment on a man suspected of having committed sucb enormous injustice. What would these moral people think of our anti- ]; nights errant, who are ever in pursuit of adventures to reduce innocent virgins to distress, and to rob vir- tuous women of their honour; who regard beauty, youth, rank, nay virtue itself, as so many incentives which enflame their desires, and render their efforts more eager : and who, priding themselves in the giory of appearing expert seducers, fdr get that, with all their endeavours, they can only acquire the se- cond 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 un- derstanding' and sensibility infinitely above the com- mon 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 con- stancy in the midst of those dissipations which our ridiculous customs have rendered unavoidable. It must pain an amorous husband to sec 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 everv one take them that will, lo hear her impart the charms of her nnder- sfandingtoall the world, to see her display her bosom at noon day, tobehold her bedeck herself for the ball and for tbe play, and attract a thousand and a thoa- OF LADY MONTAOUE. aSg sand adorers, and listen to tlie insipid flattery of a thousand and a ihousand 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 Kast, where the most beautilul women are content to conline the power of their charms to him who has a right to enjoy them; and they are too sincere not to con- fess 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 after- wards contracted the closest friendship ;: she frankly acknowledged that she was satisfied with her hus- band. What libertines, said she, you Christian ladies are .' Yon 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 as crimLial to listen to, or to love, any other than our husbands. « Your husbands are great fools, she re- « plied smiling, to be content witli so precarious a « fidelity. Your necks, your eyes, your hands, your « conversation, are all for the publick ; and what do " you pretend to reserve for them.^ I'ardon me, my « prettv 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 a know the fdthincss of the infidels. I perceive that •• you are ashamed, and I vvill say no more. » 26o LETTERS OF LADY MOT^TAGUE. I found so much, good sense and propriety in what she said,, that I knew not how to contradict her, and at length I acl^nowledged that she had reason to prefer the Mahometan manners to our ri- diculous customs, which form a confused medley of the rigid maxims of Christianity, with all the li- bertinism 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 exrravagant desire of engaf;ing publick 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 extraorihnary pair: it is not very surprizing therefore, that such an union should be uncommon in those counti'ics, \^here it is requisite to conform to established customs in order to be happy. THE END OF THE LETTEPS. VERSES Written in the Kieuohk at Per a, overlookinff Constantinople, December 26, 1718, l^\ Lady MARY WO RT L E Y M N TA G U E. VJTivE me, great God, said I, a little farm, In suinnier shady, ami in \vinter warm : Where a clear spring g.ves birlh toiiinrnrringLrook By nature gilding ilown the massy rocks, INot artfully by leaden pipes convey d, Or greatly falling in a forc'd cascade. Pure and unsulhed winding thro" the shade. Ail-bouateous Heav'n has added to mv prav'r, A softer clmiate and a purer air. Our frozen isle now chdling winter binds, Dsforra'd by rains, and rough with blasting winds The w'lther'd woods grow white with hoary frost, r.y driving storms tbeir 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,* liv'n Thames benumra'd 's a river no . no more : The barren meads no longer y;e'.d delight. By glist'ring snows made painfn td th<' sight. Here summer reigns with one elernai smile. Succeeding harvests bless the happy soil, lair fertile fields, to whom indulgent heavn Has ev'ry charm of ev'rv sea'^on ^^iv"n ; No kiilmg cold deforms the bean I eons year; The springing flowrs no coming winter fear ; 262 VERSES But as the parent rose decays and dies, The infant buds with brighter colours rise, And with fresh sweets the mother's scent supplies Near thera the violet grows with odours blest. And blcjms 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, undelil'd with rain, | And towTJng greens adorn the fruitful plain. ' The warbling kind uninterrupted sing, "VVarm'd with enjoyments of perpetual spring. Here, at my window, I at on::e smvey The crouded city and resounding sea ; In distant views the Asian mountains rise. And lose their snowy summits in the skies : Above those mountains proad Olympus tow'rs, The parliamental seat of heavenly pow'rs. 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 Christian's 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' unbelieviug vows her shrine profanes ; Where holy saints have died in sacred cells, Where monarchs pray'd the frantick dervise dwells. How art thou fall'n, imperial city, low I Where are thy hopes of Roman glory now ? WTiere 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 ] BY LADY MONTAGUF. 2C3 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, Snnk undistinguishd by one common fate; One little spot the tenure small contains, Of Greek nobility the poor remains. Where other Helens, with like pow'rfnl charms. Have once engagd the warring world in arms; Those names whic h royal ancestors can hoast^|k^^^ In mean mechaiiick arts obsciireJy 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 kiud, In gaudy objects I indulge my sight, And turn where eastern pomp gives gay delight. See the vast tniinin various habits drest, i^ By the bright scymitar and sable vest, . > The proud vizier distinguish'd o'er the rest; j Six slaves in gay altire his bridle hold. His bridle rich with gems, and .«-t;rrups golo ; iiis snowy steed adorn"d with costly pride, ^ Whole troops oi soldiers mounted by his side, > Tiiese top the piuray crest Arabian coursers guide. J M ith artful duty ail decline ihcir eyes, ^o bellowing shouts of noisy crouds arise ; Silence in solemn state the march attends, 'Till at the dread divan the slow procession ends. Yet not these prospects ail profusely gay, The gilded navy that adorns the sea, The rising city in con'usion fair, Mjign.ficently form'd irregular ; Where woods and palaces at once surprise. Gardens on gardens, domes on domes arise. And endless beauties tire the wandring eyes ; 264 VERSES BY LADY MONTAGUE. So sooth my wislies, or i»o cbarm my luiud, 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 f ime itself can hardly reach me here : Impertinence with all her tattling train. Fair-son n din £j flattery's delicious bane ; ('ejoorious folly, noisy party-rage. 'Tlie thousand tongues wth which she must engage, Who dares have virtue in a vicious age. I VER SES T O T H E Lady MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE; By Mr. Pope, I. J.N beauty or wit, No mortal as yet To qtiestion your empire has dar'd ; But men of discerning, Have thought that, in learning, To yield to a lady was hard. Impertinent schools, With musty dull rules, Have readia;,' to females denied ; So Papits refuse The bible to use , Lest flocks should be wise as their guide. III. 'Twas a woman at first, (Indeed she was cur.st) In knowledge that tasted dehght ; And sages agree. The law should decree ro the first possessor the right. a3 v.f^Cy VERSES TO LADY MONTAGUE. IV. Then bravely, fair dame, Renew the old claim, Which to your whoje sex does belong. And let them 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 yon, Who tasting have robb'd the whole tree ? POEMS B T La d V MAR Y ^\- O 11 T L E Y INI N T A G U E. TOWN ECLOGUES V. :>i O X D A Y. R ox AN A, or The Draning-room. XX ox ANA from the court retiring late, Sigh'tl bci- soft sorrows at St.'Jaines "s gate. S;:ch heavy thoughts lay hroodiug iu htr breast, INot her Ovvu chauiueu \\ith more \\eight oppress'd ; They groau the cruel load they're doom'd t« bear; She 111 these geutie sounds express'd her care. .< V»'as it for this, thatl these roses ^vear, For this new set the jev. els for my hoir "^ Ah, princess .' witli Avhat zeal liaA e I j)nrsu'd .' Almo.st forgot the duty of a prude. "J hinkiiig 1 never could attend too soon, I\ e miss'd my prayers, to get me dress'd by noon. (i) Of these six ecloj^ues, four only were written by lady Mary W'ortley Montague. Thursday, tiie Basse ttb Tabli, and Friday, the Toilette, being the Produc- tions of Mr. Pope and Mr. Gay. •x68 POEMS For thee, all ! \\'liat for thee did I resign ? IVIy pleasures, passions, all that e'er ^vas mine. I sacrilic'd both modesty and ease, Left operas and went to filthy plays ; Double entendres shock'd ray tender ear, Yet even this for thee I chose to bear. In glowing youth, when nature bids be gay, And ev'ry joy of life before me lay, By honour prompted, and by pride reslrain'd, The pleasures of the young my soul disdain'd. Sermons I sought, and with a mien severe Censur'd my neighbours, and said daily pray'r. Alas ! how chang'd .' — with the same sermon-mien That once I pray'd,the What-d' ye-cal V t ( i )I've seen. Ah , cruel princess, for thy sake I've lost That reputation which so dear had cost; I, who avoided ev'ry publick place. When bloom and beauty bade me show my face ; Now near thee constant ev'ry night abide With never-failing duty by thy side, Myself and daughters standing on a row, To all the foreigners a goodly show .' Oft had your drawing-room been sadly thin, And merchants' wives close by the chair been stt\\\ Had not I amply fill'd the empty space. And sav'd your highness from the dire disgrace. '< Yet Coqaetilla's artifice prevails. When all my merit and my duty fails : That Coquetilla, whose deluding airs Corrupts our virgins, and our youth insnares; So'sunk her character, so lost her fame, Scarce visited before your highness came : Yet for the bed-chamber 'tis her you chuse, When zeal and fame and virtue you refuse. (r) A farce, by Mr. Gay. BY LADY MONTAGUE. zGy Ah .' V. orthy choice .' not one of all your train WLkhu censure blasts not, aad dishonours stain. Let th!^ nice hind now suckle dirty pigs, And the proud pea-hen hatch the cuckoo's eggs .' Let Iris leave her paint and own her age, And grave Suffolka v»ed a giddy page .' A greater miracle is daily vievv'd, A virtuous princess with a court so lewd. « I know thee, court I \\ith all thv treach'sous wiles, Thy false caresses and undoing smiles .' Ah ! princess, learn'd iij all the courtly arts To cheat our hopes, and yet to gain our heai fs .' '< Large loveiy hi ibcs are the great statemans aim ; And the neglected patriot follows fame. 'J'he prince is ogled : some the king pursi;c ; Kut your E.o::ana onlv foliows vdu. Uespisd Roxar.a, cease, and tiy to find Some other, since the princess proves unkind : j'crhaps it is not hard to lind at court, If not a greater, a more' iirm Mijiport. « T U E 8 D A Y, St. James's Coffce-Honse. SILLIANDER and PATCH. i Hou, who so many favours hast rcceiv'd, Wond'rous to tell, and hard to be believ'd, Oh I H , to my i:iys atteutiou lend ; Hear how two lovers boastingly contend. Like thee successful, such their bloom v voutb, Pvenownd alike for gallantry and truth. St. Jamess bell had toU'd some wretches in, 23. I 370 POEMS ( As tatter'd riding-hoods alone could sin ) The happier sinners now their charms put oat, And to their mantuas their complexions suit; The op'ra queens had finish'd half their faces. And city dames already taken places ; Fops of all kinds, to see the lion, run ; The beauties slay till the first act's begun. And beans step home to put fresh linen on- No well-dress' d youth in coffee-house remain'd, But pensive Patch, who on the window lean'd; And Silliander, that alert and gay. First pick'd his teeth, and then began to say. SltLIANDER. Why all these sighs ; ah } why so pensive grown? Some cause there is, why thus you sit alone. Does hapless passion all this sorrow move ? Or dost thou envy where the ladies love? PATCH. If, whom they love my envy must pursue, Tis true, at least, I never envy you. SItLIANDER. No, I'm imhappy — you are in the right — 'Tjs you they favour, and 'tis me they slight. Yet I could tell, but that I hate to boast, A club of ladies where 'tis me they toast. rXTCH. Toasting does seldom any favour prove ; Like us, they never toast the thing they love. A certain dnke one night my health begun ; Wijh cheerful pledges round the room it run, 'Till the young Silvia, press'd to drink it too. Started and vow'd she knew not what to do : What, drink a fellow's health .' she died with shame: Yet blush'd whenever she pronounc'd my name. SILLIAXDEr.. Ill fates pursue me, may I nerer find BYLADYMONTAGUE, a The dice propitious, or the litdies kind, If fair Miss Flippy's fan I did not tear, And one from me she condescends to wear. PATCH. Women are always ready to receive : 'Tis then a favour when the sex will give. A lady ( but she is too great to name ) ])eauteous in person, spotless in her fame, "With gentle struggiings let me force this ring; Another day may give another thing. S Il-r. IAN D ER. I could say something — see this hillet-doux — - And as for presents — look upon my shoe — Tliese bnckles were not forc'd, nor half a theft, But a young countess fondly made the gift. PATCH. My countess is more nice, more artful too, Affects to fly, that I may fierce pursue : This snuff-box -which I begg'd, she still denied, And when I strove to snatch it, seem'd to hide ; She laugh'd and fled, and as I thought to seize. With aifectation cramd it down her stays. Yet hoped she did not place it there unseen ; I press'd her breasts, and pull'd it from between. SILI. lANDER. Last night, as I stood ogling of her grace. Drinking deUcious poison from her fac**, The soft enchantress did that face decline, Nor ever rais'd her eyes to meet with mine ; W^ith sudden art some secret did pretend, Lean'd cross two chairs to whisper to a friend, W^hde the stiff w halebones w ith the motion rose, And thousand keauties to my sight expose. PATCH. Early this morn — ( but I was ask'd to come) I drank bohea in Celia's dressing-room : 272 POEMS Warm from her bed, to me alone witliin; Her night-gown iasten'd with a single pin ; Her night-cloaths tumbled with resistless grace, And her bright hair play'd careless round her face ; Reaching the kettle made her gown unpin, She wore no waistcoat , and her shift was thin. SILI. lANDER. See Titiana driving to the park ! Hark I let us follow, 'tis not yet too dark , In her, all beauties of the spring are seen; Her cheeks are rosy, and her mantle green, PATCH. See,Tintoretta,to the op'ra goes.' Haste, or the crowd will not permit our bows ; In her, the glory of the heav'ns we view : Her eyes are star-like, and her mantle bine. s 1 T, I. I A N D E B . What colour does iu Celia's stockings shine? Reveal that secret, and the prize is thine. PATCH. ■*■ What are her garters ? tell me if you can ; I'll freely own thee far the happier man. Thus Patch continued his heroick strain, While Silliander but contends in vain. After a conquest so important gain'd, Unrivall'd Patch in ev'ry ruelle reigned. « BT LADY MONTAGUE. 27-3 WEDNESDAY. The Tete-a-tete. D A N C I N D A. « J_\ o, fair Dancinda, no ; yoa strive in vain To calm my care, and mitigate my pain ; If all my sighs, my cares can fall to mo\e, Ah I sooth me not with fruitless vows ot love. » Thus Strephon spoke. Dancinda thus rephed: What must I do to pjratify your pride ? Too well you know ( ungrateful as thou art ) How much you triumph in this tender heart: What proof of love remains for me to grant ? Yet still you teize me with some new complaint. Oh I would to heav'nl — but the fond wish is vain — - Too many favours had not made it plain .' Knt such a passion breaks through all disi^fuise ; Love reddens on my cheek, and wishes in mv eyes. Is't not enough ( inhuman and unkind .' ) I owu the secret conflict of my mind? You cannot know what secret pain I prove, When I with burning blushes own I love. Y'ou see my artless joy at your approach ; I sigh, I faint, I tremble cI I L I Jf D A . This snuff-box, once the j.ledge of Sharper's love, "When rival beauties foi' the ^.resent stro\e ; At Corticelli's he the raffle \^on : Then first his pa.ssion wiis m pubiick shown : . Hazardia blush'd, and tuin'd her head as.de, A rival's envy ( all in vain ) to hide. This snuff-box — ou the hir^g' see bril ants shine : This snuff-box will I stake ; the prize is mine. C ARDE L I A. Alas I far lesser losses than I bear Have made a soldier sigh, a lover swear. ejS POEMS And oh .'what ma^.ves the disappolutmtnt hard, 'Iwas my own lord that drew the fatal card. In complaisance I took the queen he gave ; Though ray own secret wish was for the knave. The knave won Sonica which I had chose; And the next pulUmy septleva I lose. SMILINDA.. Rut ah! what aggravates the killing smait. The cruel thought that stabs me to the heart ; This curs'd Orahrelia, this undoing fair, liy whose yile arts this heavy grief I hear ; • She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears, She owes to me the very charms she wears. An awkward thing when first she came to town, Her shape unfashion'd, and her face unknown: She was my friend, I taught her first to spread Upon her sallow cheeks enliv'ning red. 1 iutroduc'd her to the park and p'ays ; And hy my int'rest, Cosins made her stays. Ungrateful wretch! with mimickaJrs grown pert, She dares to steal my fav'rite lover's heart. CARDE LI A. Wretch that I was ! how often have I sw ore, When Winnal talhed, I w ould punt no more? I know the bite, yet to ui> ruin run ; And see the folly, which I cannot shun. S M ILIND A. How many maids have Shammer's vows deceiv'd ! How many cnrs'd the moment Iney believ'd I Yet his known falsehoods coiiM no v^arning prove: Ah ! what is warning to a maid in love ? c A R r> F. I, I A. But of what marble must that breast be form'd, To gaze on Bassette, and remain unwarm'd .^ Vvheu kings, queens, knaves, are set ia decent ran& K:ipx)s'd iu glorious heaps the tempting bank : BY LADY MONTAGUE. s^g Guineas, half-guine:is, all the shining train; The winner's pleasure and the loser's pain, In bright confusion open rouleaux lie : They strike the soul . and glitter in the eve. Fir'd hy.the sight, all reason I disdain : My passions rise, and nill not Lear the rein. Look upon bassette, vou who reason boast; And see if reason must not there be lost. SM II. IJf D A. What more than marble must that heart compose. Can hearken coldly to my wSharper'srows.'' That when he trembles, when his blushes rise. When aweful love seems melting in his eyes .>* With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves; He loves, I whisper to myself, he loves ! Such unfeign'd passion in his looks appears, I lose all mem'ry of my former fears : My panting heart confesses all his charms, I -vield at once, and sink into his arms. Think of that moment, you who prudence boast; For such a moment, prudence well were lost. CARDELIA. At the groom-porter's, batter'd bullies ])lay, .Some dukes at Marybobe bowl time away. I'ut who the bowl, or rattling dice compares To basselte's heav'nly joys, and pleasing cares ? S MIL I ND A. Soft Simplicetta doats upon a beau ; Prudina likes a mau, and laughs at show. Their several graces in my Sharper meet : Strong as the footman, as the master sweet. I. o V E I T. Cease your contention, which has been too long : I grow impatient, and the tea's too strong. Attend, and yield to what I now decide : The equipage shall grace Smilinda's side; 28o POEMS- The sauff-box to C3j:delia I decree : TNow leave complaining, and begin your tea. FRIDAY. The Toilette. L Y D I A. N< ow twenty springs b.id cloatb'd tbe park with green, Since Lydia knew tbe blossoms of fifteen ; No lovers now ber morning bours molest ; And Caleb ber at ber toUette balf uudrest. Tbe tbuud'nnj( knocker wakes tbe street no more; IN'or cbaiis,nor coacbes croud tbe silent door j Nor af tbe window all ber mornings pass, Or at tbe dumb devotion of ber glass. PtecUn'd upon ber arm she pensive sate, And cursVl th'^uconstancy of man too late. « O youth .' o spring of life for ever lost ! No more my name shall reign the fav'rite toast; On glass no more the diamond grave my name, And lines mis-spell record my lover's flame : Nor shall side-boxes watch my wandring eyes. And, as they catch a glance, in row* arise With humble hows ; nor white-glov'd beaus encroach In crowds bebiqd, to guard me to my coach. « What shall I do to spend the haleiul day .•• At chapel shall I wear tbe morn away ? Who there appears at these unmodish hours, But ancient matrons with their frizled tow'rs. And grey rebgious maids .»* My presence there, Amidst that sober train, would own despair; Nor am I yet so old, nor is my glance i BY LADY MONTAGUE. a$i As \et fix'd wholly on devotion's trance. Strait then I'll dress, and take my wonted range Thioujfh India shops, to Motteux, or the Change, ^Vhere the Inli jar erects its stately pride , With fintick shapes in China's azure d-y'd ; There careless lies a rich brocade unroll'd, Here shines a cabinet with bnmish'd gold. Kut then, alas I I must be lorc'd f o pay, And bring no penn'orths, not a fan away ! « How am I curs'd, unhappy and forlorn ! My lover's triumph, and my sex's scorn ." I'alse is the pompous grief of youthful hf-vs ; False are the loose coquet's inveigling airs; False is the crafty courtier's plighted word ; False are thfe dice when gamesters stamp the board ; False is the sprightly widow's publick tc;..- : Yet these to Damon's oaths are all sincere. « For what young flirf, base man, am I abus'd ? To please your wife am I unkindly us'd ? 'Tis true, her face may boast the peach's bloom ; But does her nearer whisper breathe jierj'ume.^ I own her taper shape is lorm'd to please ; But don't you see her unconfin'd by sla^ s .•* She doubly to fifteen mav claim pretence ; Alike we I'ead it in her face and sense. Insipid, servile thing ! whom I disdain ! Her phlegm can Rest .••upport the marriage chain. Damon is practisd in the modish life ; Can hate, and yet be civU to bis wife; He games, he drinks, he swears, he fights, he roves ; Yet Chloe can believe he fondly loves. Mistress and wife by turns supply his need; A miss for pleasure, and a wife for breed. Powdcr'd with diamonds, free from splceu or earc, She can a sullen husband's humour bear. Her cred'Jous friendship, ami her stupid ease. a82 POEMS Have often been my jest in happier days : IS^ow Chloe boasts and triumphs in my pains. To her he's faithful : 'tis to me he feigns. Am I that stupid thing to bear neglect, And force a smile, not daring to suspect ? No, perjur'd man ! a wife may be content ; But you shall find a mistress can resent ». Thus love-siek Lydia rav'd ; her maid appears, And in her faithful hand the band-box bears ; ( The cestus that reform'd inconstant Jove Not better fill'd with what allur'd to love ) « How well this ribband's gloss becomes your face ! ( She cries in rapture ) then, sd sweet a lace ) How charmingly you look J so brightl so fair .' Tis to your eyes the head-dress owes its air ! » Strait Lydia smil'd ; the comb adjusts her locks ; Aud at the play-house Harry keeps her box. SATURDAY. The Small-Pox. 1- LA VI A. A HE wretched Flavia, on her couch reclin'd. Thus breath'd the anguish of a wounded mind : A glass revers'd in her right hand she bore ; For now she shun'd the face she sought before. « How am I chang'd I alas ! how am I grown A frightful spectre, to myself unknown ! Where's my complexion ? where my radiant bloom, That prorais'd happiness for years to come? Then with what pleasure I this face survey'd .* To look once more, my visits oft deby'dl f BY LADY MONTAfrUK. 283 Cibanu'd vsilh the view, a fresher red \\ould rise, Aud ;i uew life shot sparkliug Iroui iiiv eves.' « Ah I faithless glass, my wonted bloom restore ; Alas! I rave : that Lloom is now no more I The greatest good the gods on men bestow ; Ev'n Touth itself to me is useless now. There was' a time ( oh .' that I could forget ! ) WTien op'ra-tlckets j)i>ur'd before my Jeet ; And at the ring, where brightest beauties shine. The earhest cheriies of the spring were mine. Witness, o Ldly : and thou, Moiteux, tell How much japan these eyes have made ye sell. With what contempt ye saw me oft despise The humble offer of the raffled prize.' For at ihe raffle still each prize 1 bore, With scorn rejected, or with triumph wore ! Now beauty's fled, and presents are no more ' « For me the patriot has the house forsook, And left debates to catch a passing look : For me the soldier has soft verses w rit ; For me the beau has aim"d to be a wit ; For me the wit to nonsense was betray'd : The gamester has for me his dun delayd. And overseen the card he would have play d ; The bold aud haughty by success made \aiu, Aw'd by my eyes, have trembled to com[>liiin ; The bashful 'squire, touch'd by a wish unknown Has dar'd to speak with spirit not is own. Fir'd by one wish, all did alike adore ; Now beauty's fled, and lovers are no more .' « As round the room I turn my ueepiug eyes, New unaffected scenes of sorrow rise. Far from my sight that killing picture bear. The face disfigure, aud the canvass tear : That picture, which w ith pride I as'd to show. The lost resemblance but upbraids me now. 284 POEMS And thou, my toilette! wbere I oft have sate, While hours unheeded pass'd in deep debate, How curls should fall, or where a patch to place, If blue or scarlet best became my face : Wow on some happier nymph your aid bestow ; On fairer heads, ye useless jewels, glow .' No borrow'd lustre can my charms restore , Beauty is fled, and dress is now bo more ! « Ye meaner beauties, I permit ye shine ; Go, triumph in the hearts thAt once were mine : But 'midst your triumphs, with confusion know 'Tis to my ruin all your arms ye owe. Would pitying hf'av'n restore my wonted mien, Ye still might move unthought of and unseen : But oh, how vain, how wretched is the boast Of beauty faded, and ol empire lost ! What now is left but weeping, to deplore My beautx fled, and empire now no more? « Ye cruel chymists, what withheld your aid .' Could no pomatums save a trembling maid? How false and trifling is that art ye boast I No art can give me back my beauty lost. In tears, surrounded by my iricnds I lay, Mask'd o'er, and trembled at the sight of dasy ; Mirmillio came my fortune to deplore, ( A golden-headed cane well carv'd he bore ) Cordials, he cried, my spirits must restore ! Beauty is fled, and spirit is no more ! « Galen the grave, officious Squirt, was there. With fruitless grief and unavailing care: Machaon too, the great Machaon, known By his red cloak and his superior frown ; And why, he cried, this grief and this despair, You shall again be well, again be fair; Believe my oath : (with that on oath he swore. ) False was his oath; my beauty is no more! V.Y LADY MONTAGUE. 2 « Cease, hapless raaid, no more thy tale pursue, Forsake inaulvincl,an(l bid tbe A\orid adieu I r.lonarchs aud beauties rule with equaJ sway ; All strive to serve, and glory to obey : Alike unpitied when depos'd they grow — Men mock the idol of their former vow. i< Adieu, ve parks I — in some obscure lecess, Where jjentle streams will weep at njy distress, 'V'S'here no false friend will in my jirief take part, And mourn my ruin with a joyful heart ; There let me live in some deserted place. There hide in shades this lost inijlorious face. Plays, op'ras. circles, I no more musi view .' My toilette, patches, all the world, adieu .' VERSES (1) ADDRESSED TO THE IMITATOR OF THE FIRST SATIRE OP THE 5ECO:>fn BOOK OF HORACE. J. N two large columns on thy motley page, AYhere Roman wit is striped with English rage ; (i) Tliese severe verses owe their birtJi to two lines rri the first satire of the second book of Horace, iiuitafed bv Mr. Pope, whicli were supposed to point at lady Marv Wortlev Montague, under the nanu' ol Sapjtiu). We find by the letters of Mr. l'o]»e, \o\. ';', and tlu>st- of lady Mary Wortlev Montague, latoiv published, that a friendly corrc-pondance once subiistcd betyveeri tluse two wits, which probably did not continue much later than her ladyship s return into England, in the year 1718. liut the exact time when the quarrel between them com- menced, and the circumstances relatinii to it, are not 286 POEMS Where ribaldry to satire makes pretence, And modern scandal rolls with ancient sense: Whilst on one side we see how Horace thought, And on the other, how he never wrote ; Who can believe, who view the bad and good^ That the dull copist better understood That spirit he pretends to imitate. Than heretofore that Greek he did translate ? Thine is just such an image of his pen, As thou thyself art of the sous of men : W^here our own species in burlesque we trace, A sififu-post Lkeness of the human race ; That is at once resemblance and disgrace. easy, at this distance of time, to discover. It is said in Mr. Pope's \iie (^Biographia Britannica, vol. 5, p. 3.41 3) that he was charged with propagating a scandalous re- port concerning her ladyship, which, it is added, per- haps he was not quite clear of. The note to that life, in wiiich this charge on the poet is to he found, has tJio name of Dr. Warburton annexed to it, and therefore, on his authority", may well be supposed not without foun Ja- tioa. If a coujecture may be allowed, it is not improbable that this was the occasion of tJieir difference, ^^'ith respect to the lines which produced these verses, Mr. Pope, in his letter to lord Hervey, vol. 8, p. 196, absolutely dis- claims any intention of applying them to lady Montague. « In regard, says lie, to the right honourable lady, your lordship's friend, I was far from designing a person of her condition by a name so derogatory to her as that of Sap- pho, a name prostituted to every infamous creature that ever wrote verse or novels. I protest I never appUed tliat name to her in any verse of mine, publick or private, and, I firmly believe, not in any letter or conversation. » What degree of credit tJiis asseveration deserves must be left to the reader's determination, only observing that Mr. Pope was not very scrupulous in disowning a cha- ^} B-S LADY BIONTACUL:. 587 Horace cau laugh, is delicate, is clear; You only coarsely rail, or darkly sneer : His style is elegant, his diction pure. Whilst none thy crahbed numbers can endui Hard as thy heart, and as thy birth obscure. If he has thorns, they all on roses grow ; Thine like rude thistles, and mean brambles show. With this except on, that though rank the soil, Weeds as thev are, they seem produe'd by toil. Satire should, like a pol.sh'd razor keen. Wound with a touch, that's scarcely felt or seen. ractor, wben the opinion of the piiblick was not in his favour. With equal, or more earneslness, lie denied that the description of fimon's villa was de.sigiied to expu&e that of a certain nobleman. In which particular he has l)een unwarily ^iveu up by his commentator, who, in tJie following note on diese hnes, in the edition of ijSi, seems to acknowledge the fact. Another age sliall see the golden ear Imbrown the slope, and nod on the parterre ; Deep harvests bury all his pride liad plannd, And laughing Ceres re-assume the land. Moral tpisTi-E. iv, verse 172. a Had the poet lived but three years longer, he had seen this prophecy fuliiUed. « It ii to be remem})ered that Canons was sold about the time here fixed upon, and flierefore this question will naturallv arise. What pro- ]>hecy was fulfilled, if Mr, Pope had not that ])laee in Ins iniud while he was writing the before mentioned episfle? The echtor of his works, as if conscious that he had done no service to Mr. Pope's moral character, hv the above note, has since altered it in the following manner. « Had the poet lived three years longer, he had seen lu's s^fneral prophecy against all ill-fudged magnificence fulfillnd in a very particular instance. t> } 288 POEMS Thine is an oyster-knife, that hacks and hews; The rage, but not the talent to abuse ; And is in hate, what love is in the stews. 'Tis the gross hist of hate, that slill annoys, Without distinction, as gross love enjoys : Neither to folly, nor to vice confin'd ; The object of thy spleen is human kind; It preys on all, who yield or who resist : To thee 'tis provocation to exist. But if thou seest(i)a great and ren rous heart, Thy bow is douMy bent to force a dart. IN or dignity, nor innocence is spar'd. Nor age, nor sex, nor thrones, nor graves rever'd. Nor only justice vainly we demand. Rut even heoeilts can't rein thy hand : To this or that alike in vain we trust. Nor lind thee less ungrateful than unjust. Not even youlh and beauty can controul The universal rancour ot thy soul : Charms that m.ght soften superstition's rage, Might hamble pride, or thaw the ice of age. Kut how shonld'st tho^: ir. beauty's force i-e mov'd, No more for lov ng made, than to be lov'd.'' It -".vas the equity of righ-eous heav'n, That such a -oul to such a form was giv'n; And shows the uriiforiinty of fate. That one so od ou? should be born to hate. When God creaied thee, one would believe, He said the same as to the snake of Eve : To human race antijiathy declare, 'Twixt them and thee be everlasting war. But oh ! the sequei of the sentence dread; And whilst you bruise their heel, beware your head, Nor think thy weakness shall be thy defense; (i) See Tast£, an epistle. li Y LADY MO N T A G U £. a«5,j The female scold's protection in offence. Sure 'tis as fair to beat who cannot /Ij-ht, As 'tis to libel those \vho cannot write. And if thou draw 'st thy pen to aid the l.iw, Others a cudgel, or a rod, mnv draw. If none with vengeance yet thy crimes pursue. Or give thv manyfold affronts their due; If limbs unbroken, skin without a stain, "^ Unwhipt, unblanketed, unkicked, unslain, > That wretched little carcase you retain; j The reason is, not that the uorld wants eyes; But thou'rt so mean, they see, and they despise. When fretful porcupine, with rancorous will. From mounted back shoots forth a harmless qulIl, Cool the spectators stand ; and, ail the whil*-. Upon the angry little monster smile. Thus 'tis with thee : — while impotently safe. You strike unwounding, we unAurt can laugh. Who but must laugh, this bully when he sets, « A puny insect shivering at a breeze.'' » One over-match'd by ev'ry blast of wind. Insulting and provoking all mankind.^ Is this the thing to keep mankind in awe. To make those tremble who escape the law ? » Is this the ridicule to live so long. The deathless satire, and immortal song? » No: like thy self-blown praise, thy scandal flies : And, as we're told of wasps, it stings and dies. If none do yet return th' intended blow. You all your safety to your dulness owe : But whilst iha^; armour thy poor corpse defends. 'Twill make thy readers few, as are thy friends ; Those, who tljv nature loath'd, yet lov'd thy art. Who lik'd thy head, and yet abhorr'd thy heart ; Chose thee to read, but ne^er to converse. And scorndin prose him whom thry priz'din verse, a3 ago POEMS Ev'u they shall now their partial error see, Shall shun thy writings like thy company ; And to thy books shall ope their eyes no more Than to thy person they wou'd do their door. Nor thou the justice of the world disown, That leaves thee thus an out- cast, and alone; For tho' in law, to murder he to kill, In equity, the murder's in the will. Then whilst with coward hand you stab a name, And try at least t' assassinate our fame ; Like the first bold assassins be thy lot, Ne'er be thy guilt forgiven, or for jot. Put as thou kat'st,be hated by mankind. And with the emblem of thy crooked mind, Mark'd on thy back, like Cain, by God's own hand, Wander, like him, accursed through the land. AN EPISTLE TO LORD B , XI ow happy you ! who varied joys pursue ; And ev'ry hour presents you something new J Plans, schemes, and models, all Palladio's art, For six long months have gain'd upon your heart; Of colonnades, of corridores you talk. The winding stair-case and the cover'd walk ; You blend the orders with Vitruvian toil. And raise with wond'rous joy the fancied pile : But the dull workman's slow performing hand But coldly execwte his lord's command. With dirt and mortar soon you go displeas'd : Planting succeeds, and avenues are rais'd ; Caaals are cat, and moantaius level made; BY LADY MONTAGUE. 291 Bov.'rs of retreat, and galleri'.'s of shade ; The shaveu turf presents a lively green, The bord'ring llovv'rs in mystick knots are seen: With studied art on nature you refine — The spring beheld you warm in this design ; But scarce the cold attacks your fav'rite trees, Your inclinations fail, and wishes freeze, You quit the grove so lately you admir'd ; "With other views your eager hopes are iir'd. Post to the city you direct your way. Not blooming paradise could bribe your stay : Ambition shews you power's brightest side ; 'Tis meanly poor in solitude to hide : Tho' certain pains attend the cares of state, A good man owes his country to be great ; Should act abroad a high-distinguish'd part. Or shew at least the purpose of his heart. With thoughts like these the shining coui ts yon seek. Full of new projects for almost a week : You then despise the tinsel glitt'ring snare ; Think vile mankind below a serious care. Life is too short for any distant aim, And cold the dull reward of future fame : Be happy then, while yet you have to live; And love is all the blessing heav'n can give. Fird by new passions you address the fair ; Survey the op'ra as a gaV parterre : Young Chloe's bloom had made you certain prize. But for a side-long glance from Celia's eyes: Your beating heart acknowledges her pow'r ; Your eager eves her lovelv form devour ; You feel the poison swelling in your breast, And all vour soul bv fond desire possess'd. In dying sighs a long three hours are past ; To some assembly with impatient haste. With trembling hope, and doubtful fear tou move, 292 POEMS Resolv'd to tempt your fate, and owij your love: "But there Belinda meets you on tjie stairs; Easy her sliajie, attracting all her airs •, A smile she gives, and with a smile can wound ; Her melting voice has musick in the sound; Her ev'rv motion wears resistless grace; Wit in her mien., and pleasure in her face : Here, while you vow eternity of love, Chloe and Celia unregarded move. Thus on the sand of Africk's burning plains, However deeply made, no long impress remains, The slightest leaf can leave its figure there : The strongest form is scatter'd by the air. So yielding the warm temper of your mind, So touch'd by ev'ry eye, so toss'd by wind : Oh I how unlike the heav'n my soul design'd ) Unseen, unheard, the throng around me move ; Not wishing praise, insensible of love : ISo whisper softens, nor no beauti; s fire ; Careless I see the dance, and coldly hear the lyre. So num'rous herds are driven o'er the rock ; No print is left of all the passing stock : So sings the wind around the solid stone : So vainly beat the waves with fruitless moan. Tedious the toil, and great the \\orkman's care, Who dare attempt to fix impressions there :^ But should some swain, more skilful than the rest, Engrave his name upon this marble breast, Not rolling ages could deface that name ; Thro' all the storms of life 'tis still the same : Tho' length of years with moss may shade the ground Deep, though unseen, remains the secret wound. BY LADY MONTAGUE. 293 EPISTLE From AR-THUR GREY, the footmax(i^, Aftar his condemnation for attempting a rape. Jae AD, lovely nATiipli, nnd tremble not to read, I have no more to wish, nor you to dread : I ask not Hfe, for life to me were vain, And death a refuge from severer pain. My only hope in these last lines I try ; I would be pitied, and I then would die. Long had I liv"d as sordid as my fate, IN or curs'd the destiny that made me wait ( I ) This man was footman to a gentleman whose daughter, a married lady, he attempted to ravisii. It ap- pears by his trial, that he went iuto her room about four o'clock iu the morning, armed with a pistol in one haad, and a drawn sword in tlie other; and, advancing to the bed-side, threatened to murder her, if she made an v uoise. Upou asking him what he meant by coming into her chamber in such a manuer, he replied that he inteuded to ravisJi her, for that he had entertained a violent love for her a long time ; but as there was so great a difference be- tween their fortunes, he despaired of enjoying his wishes by any means but force. After some resistance, the lady •wrenched the pistol from his hand ( he having lain down the sword ) and rung the bell ; upon w hich be ran awav. He was indicted and convicted of a burglarv, at the Oiu Bailey, in december lyo.i, but the sentence was not exe- ciited, for he was reprieved, and afterwards transported. a 5. I 294 POEMS A. servile slave : content with hottiely food, The gross instinct of happiness pursu'd : Youth gave me sleep at night, and warmth of blood Ambition yet had never touch'd my breast; My lordly master knew no sounder rest ; With labour healthy, in obedience blest. B at when I saw — oh ! had I never seen That wounding softness, that engaging mien ! The mist of wretched education flies ; Shame, fear, desire, despair, and love arise ; The new creation of those beauteous eyes. Bat yet that love pursu'd no guilty aim; Deep in my heart I hid the secret flame. I never hop'd my fond desire to tell. And all my wishes were to serve you well. Keav'ns ) how I flew, when wing'd by your command, And kiss'd the letters gi,v'n me by your hand! How pleas'd, how proud, how fond was I to wait. Present the sparkling wine, or change the plate I How, v.'hen you sung, ray soul devour'd the sound, And ev'ry sense was in the rapture drown'd .' Tho' bid to go, I quite forgot to move ; .— You knew not that stupidity was love. But oh I the torment not to be express'd, The grief, the rage, the hell that lir'd this breast, When my great rivals, in embroid'ry gay, Sate by your side, or led you from the playfJ I still contriv'd near as I could to stand, ( The flambeau trembling in my shaking hand ) I saw, or thought I saw, those fingers press'd, ^ For thus their passion by my own I guess'd, % And jealous fury all my soul possess VI. J Like torrents, love and indignation meet. And madness would have thrown me at your feet. Turn, lovely nymph, (for so I would have said) Turn from those trifiers who make love a trade; BY LADY MONTAGUE. 295 This is true passion in my eyes you see ; They caanot, no — they cannot love like me. Frequent debauch has paH\l their sickly taste ; Faint their desire, and in a moment past : They sigh not from the heart, but from the brain: Vapours of vanity, and strong champafjne/ Too dull to feel wliat forms like yours inspire, "J After long talking of their painted fire, > To some lewd brothel they at night retire : j There, pleas'd with fancied quality and charms, Enjoy your beauties in a strumpet's arms. Such are the joys those toasters have in view And such the wit and pleasure they pursue: • — And is this love that ought to merit you ? Each oj)'ra-uight a new address begun. They swear to thousands what they suear to one. Not thus I sigh — but all ray sighs are vain - Die, w retched Arthur, and conceal thv pain : 'Tis impudence to wish, and madness to corapla Fix'd on this view, my only hope of ease, I waited not the aid of siow disease: The keenest instruments of death I sought. And death alone employ'd mv lab'ring thoupht. This all the night — when I remember well. The charming tinkle of your morning bell ! Fir'd by the sound, I hasten'd with your tta, With one last look to smooth the darksome way. — But oh ! how dear that fatal look has cost I In that fond moment my resolves were lost. Hence all my guilt and all your sorrows rise. -'- I saw the languid softness of vour eyes ; I saw the dear disorder of your bed : Your cheeks all glowing w ith a tempting red ; Your night-cloaths tumbled with resistless grace ; Your flowing hair plav'd careless down vour face ; ;lepin; ,c. lin. J lighl!. t ving night.' \ 296 P O E M S — Fancy Improv'tl the wond'rous charms within ! I lix'd my eyes upon that heaving breast, And hardly, hardly I forbore the rest ; Eager to gaze, unsatisfied with sight, My head grew giddy with the near deli ■ — Too well you know the fa til following Th' extremest proof of my desire I give, And since you will not love, I will not live. Condemn'd by you, I wait the righteous doom, Careless and fearless of the woes to come. Rut when you see me waver in the wind. My guilty flame extinct, my soul resign'd, Sure you may pity what you can't approve, The cruel consequence of furious love. Think the bold wretch that could so greatly dare, Was tender, faithful, ardent, and sincere: Think, when I held the pistol to .your breast, Had I been of the world's large rule possess'd, That world had then been ^ours, and I been blest ! Think that my life was quite below ray care. Nor fear'd I any hell beyond.despalr. — If these reflections, though they seize you late, Give some compassion for your Arthur's fate, Enough you give, nor ought I to complain; You pay my pajQgs, nor have I died in vain. A]^ ANSWER TO A LOVE-LETTER. is It to me, this sad lamenting strain.' Are heaven's choicest gifts bestow'd in vain.-* A plenteous fortune, and a beauteous bride. Your love rewarded, gratiiled your pride : Yet leaving her - — 't.s me tjiat you pursue, Without one single charm, but bcin^; new. BY LADY MONTAGUE. 297 How vile is man I how I detest their ways Of artful falshood, and designing praise .' Tasteless, an easy happiness yoa slight. Ruin \our joy, and luischicf your delight. Whv should poor pug ( the uiiniick of your kind ) Wear the rough chaiw-, and he to box conlin'd.^ Some cup, perhaps, he breaks, or tears a fan ; — Wbile roves unpunished the destroyer, man. Not bound by vo.vs, and unrestrain'd by shame. In .s])ort you break the heart, and rend the fame. Not that your heart cau be successful here, Th' already plunder'd need no robber fear : Nor sighs, nor charms, nor flatteries can move, Too well secur'd against a second love. Once, and but once, that devil charm'd mv mind: To reason deaf, to observation blind •, I idlv hop'd ( what cannot love persuade .' ) My fonduess equal'd, and my love repay'd ; Slow to dislrast, and willini; to believe. Long hush'd my doubts, and did myself deceive : Rut oil! too soon — thiy ta'.e would ever last ; Sleep, sleep my wrongs, aud let me think 'em past. For you, who mourn v^ith counterfeited grief, And ask soboldlv like a begging thief. May soon some other nymph infhct the pain, You know so well \Nith cruel art to feign. Tho' longyou sported have \\ith Cupid's dart, You may see eyes, and y(m may feel a heart. So the brisk wits, who stop tlie ev'ning coach, Laugh at the fear which follows their approach ; With idle mirth and hauijhty scorn despise The passenger's pale cheek, and staring eyes : Rut seiz'd by justice, find a fright no jest. And all the terror doubled in their breast. agg POEMS AN ELEGY ON Mrs. THOMPSON. U XHAPPT fair .' by fatal love betray'd ! Must then thy beauties thus untimely fade ? And all thy blooming, soft, inspiring charms, Become a prev to death's destructive arms? Tho' short thy day,, and transient like the wind , How far more blest than those yet left behind ! Safe in the grave, thy griefs with thee remain ; And life's tempestuous billows break in vain. Ye, tender nymphs, in lawless pastimes gay. Who heedless down the paths of pleasure stray, Tho' long secure, vith blissful joy elate. Yet pause, and think of Arabella's fate : For such may be your unexpected doom, And your next slumbers lull you in the tomb. But let it be the muse's gentle care To shield frpm envy's rage the mould'rlng fair : To draw a veil o'er faults she can't defend ; And what prudes have devour'd, leave time to end: Be It her part to drop a pitying tear. And mourning sigh around thy sable bier, Nor shall thy woes long glad th' ill-natur'd crowd, Silent to praise, and m detraction loud : When scandal, that thro' life each worth destroys, And malice that imbitters all our joys, Shall in some ill-starr'd wretch find later stains ; And let thine rest, forgot as thy remains. BY LADY M () N T A G U E. 2t mt;, dear lavlies, ^ for 1 know 'cm well ) "J They burn to trininnh, and thev si^h to tell : > Cruel to them who yield, culhes to them that sell, j Believe me, 'tis by far the wiser course, Superior art shou'd meet superior for^e: Hear, but be ^lithful to voor int'rest still : Secure your hearts — then fool with whom ron will. A BALLAD. To the tune of The Irish Howl. I. ± o that d:\or nymph, whose pow'rfnl Do'-s ev'ry throbbing nerve inflame, ( As the soft sound 1 low repeat, JVIy pulse unequal measures beat ) Whose eyes I never more shall see. That r>nce so sweetly shind on thee; Go, gentle wind ? and )\indly benr My tender wishes to the lair. lloh, ho. ho, etc II. Amidst hrr pleasures let her know The secret an^u.sli of my woe. The midnight pang, he jea.ou hell. Does in this tortur'il l'o>oin tiA\e. : Wilde laughing she. and Jul! of pl.'y, Is with her young companions gay ; 3o4 POEMS Or hearing in some fragrant bow'r Her lover's sigh, and beauty's pow'r. Hoh,ho, ho, etc. III. Lost and forgotten may I be ! Oh I may no pitying thought of ine Disturb the joy that she may find. When love is crown'd, and fortune kind .' May that bless'd swain ( whom yet I hate ) Be proud of his distinguisii'd fate ! Each happy night be like the first ; And he be bless'd, as I am curs'd .' Hoh,ho,ho, etc. IV. While in these pathless woods I stray, And lose my solitary way ; Talk to the stars, to trees complain. And tell the senseless woods my pain: But madness spares the sacred name, Nor dares the hidden Avound proclaim •, Which secret rankling, sure and slow, Shall close in endless peace my woe. Hoh, ho, ho, etc. V. When this fond heart shall ake no more, And all the ills of life are o'er ; ( If gods by lovers' pray'rs are mov'd, As ev'ry god in heav'n has lov'd ) Instead of bright Ehsian joys, That unknown something in the skies, ]5Y LADY MONTAGUE. 5oi In recompense of all mv pain, The only heav'n T wonid obtain : May I, the guardian of lu r charms, Preserve that paradise from harms. Hoh. ho, ho, etc. THE LOVER. A BALLAD. To Mr. C . I. A T length, by so ranch imporlnnlty pre ss'd, Take, C — , at once the inside of my breast. This stupid indiff'rence so often }ou blame, Is not owing to nature, to fear, or to shame. I am not as cold as a virgin in lead, Nor is Sunday's sermon .so strouT in my head ; I know but too well how time flies along. That we live but few years, and vet fewer are young. II. But I hate to be cheated, and never vsill buy Long years of repentance for momenis of joy. Oh .' was there a man ( but where sliaU 1 Jind Good sense and good nature so equally join'd ?) "VVould value his pleasure, contribute lo mine; IS'ot meanly would boast, nor lewdlv design, ^"ot over severe, yet not stupidly vain : For I would have the power, tho" not gi-v e the pain. 26. 3oG POEMS III. No pedant, yet learned; no rake-helly gay, Or laughing, because he has nothing to say ; To all my whole sex obliging and free. Yet never be fond of any but me ; In publick preserve the decorum that'sjust, And shew in hrs eyes he is true to his trust; Then rarely approach, and respectfully bow, But not fulsomely pert, nor foppishly low. IV. Rut when the long hours of publick are past. And we meet with champagne and a chicken at last, May every fond pleasure that moment endear; Be hanish'd afar both discretion and fear .' Forgetting or scorning the airs of the crowd. He may cease to be formal, and I to be proud, 'Till lost in the joy, we confess that we live. And he may be rude, and yet I may forgive. V. And that my delight may te solidly fix'd, Let the friend and the lover be handsomely mix'd. In whose tender bosom my soul may confide. Whose kindness can sooth me, whose counsel can guide. From such a dear lover as here I describe, No danger should frightme, no millions shouldbribc: But till this astonishing creature I know. As I long have liv'd chaste, I will keep myself so. BY LADY MONTAGUE. 3o: VI. I nevei* will share \^ith the wanton coquet, Or be caaght by a \ ain affectation of u it. The toasters and songsters may try all their ait. But never shall enter the pass oi my lu art. I loath the lewd rake, the dress'd foiling despise . Before such pursuers the nice virgin flies ; And, .Ts 0*vi(l has sweetly in parable told, We harden like trees, and like rivers grow cold. THE LxiDY'S RESOLVE. * Written ex-tempore on a %\indow. V V H I L s T thirst of praise, and vain desire of fame, In ev'ry age, is ev"ry woman's aim : With courtship pleas'd, of silly toasters proud, Fond of a train, and happv in a crowd; Oh each poor fool bestowing some kind glance, Each conquest owin<:j to some loose ad^ ance ; While vain coquets affect to be pursu'd, And think thev're virtuous, if not grossly lewd , Let this great ma: In part she is to bis He comes too near re virtuous, it not grossly lew a ; ixim be my virtue's guide : ^ blame that has been tried — > ar that comes to be denied. J THE GENTLExMAN'S A^SAVEPx VV HiLST pretty fellows th'nk a woman's fame In ev'ry stale and ev'ry age the same ; 3oS POEMS With their own. folly pleas' d, the fair they toast, And when they least are happy , swear they're most No diff'rence making 'tvvixt coquet and prude ; And her that seems, yet is not really lewd ; While thus they think, and thus they vainly live, And taste no joys but what their fancy give j Let this great maxim be my action's guide : May I ne'er hope, though I am ne'er denied; Nor thiuk a woman won, that's willing to be tried A MAN IN LOVE. L'homme qui ne se trouve poiat et ne se trouvera jamais. J. HE man who feels the dear disease, Forgets himself, neglects to please ; The crowd avoids, and seeks the groves, And much he thiuks when much he loves ; Press'd with alternate hope and fear, Sighs in ber absence, sighs when she is near. The gay, the fond, the fair, the yoang, Those trifles pass unseen along ; To him a pert, insipid throng. I>iit most he shuus the vain coquet; Contemns her false affected wit. The minstrel's sound, the flowing bowl Oppress and hurt the am'rous soul. 'Tis solitude alone can please, And give some inlervals of ease. He feeds the soft distemper there. And fondly courts the distant fair ; To balls the silent shades prefers, And hates all other charms but hers. BY LADY MONTAGUE. 309 Whea thus your absent swain can do, Molly, you can believe bira true. A RECEIPT TO CUPcE THE VAPOURS. « Written to Lady J — n. L Why will Delia thus retire. And idly lanpfuish life awav ? While the sighing crowd admire, 'Tis too soon for hartshorn tea. IL All those dismal looks and frfttiner Cannot Damon's life restore : Long ^50 the worms have eat him, You can never see him more. III. Once again consult your toilette, In the glass your face review : So much weeping soon vvdl spoil it, And no spring voui' charms renew. IV. I, like you, was born a woman. Well I know what vapours mcon ; 3io POEMS The cliserss,alas! is common ; Single, we have all the spleen, V. All the morals that they tell us, Nevei* cur'd the sorrow yet : Chuse. among the pretty fellows. One of honour, youth . and wit. VI. Prithee, hear him ev'ry morning. At the least an hour or two ; Once aj^aiu at night returning — I believe the dose will do. THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE IMITATED. * X* o R. whom are now your airs put on, And what nev\ beauty's doom'd to be undone? That careless elegance of dress, This essence that perfumes the wind, Your very motion does confess Some secret conquest is design'd. Alas ! the poor unhappy maid. To what a train of ills betray'd ! What fears, what pangs shall ^end her breast! How will her eyes dissolve in tears .' That now with glowing joy is bless'd, Charm'd with the faithless vows she hears. BY LADY MOr^TAGUE, 3i, So the young sailor on the summer sea, Gaily pursues his destin'd way : Fearless and careless on the deck he stands Till sudden storms arise and thunders roll. In vain he casts h'? eyes to distant lands ; Distracting terror tears his tim'rous soul. For me, secure I view the raging main ; Past are my dangers, and forgot my pain : My votive tablet in the temple shews The monument of follv past ; I paid the hounteous god mv gratefiil vows, Who snatch'd from ruin, sav'd me at the last. FAREY> ELL TO BATH. J. o all you ladies now at Pialb, And eke, ye beaus, to you, With aching heart, and wutry eyes, I bid mV last adieu. Farewell, ye nvmphs, who waters sip Hot peeking from the pumps, While musick lends her friendly aid, To cheer you from the dumps. Farewell, ye nymphs, who prating stand, Aud criticise the fair ; Yourselves the joke of men of sense. Who hate a coxcomb's air. Farewell to Deard's, and all her toys, Which glitter in her shop. Deluding traps to pirls aud boys. The warehouse of the fop. !i2 POEMS Lindsay's ami Hayes's both farewell, Where, m the spacious hall, "With hounding steps, and sprightly air, I've led up many a ball.- "Where Soraervllle of courteous mien, Was partner in the dance. With swimming Haws, and Brownlow blithe. And Britton pink of France. Poor Nash, faiTwell ! may fortune smile, Thy drooping soul revive ! My heart is full, I can no more — John, bid the coachman drive. w. TO CLIO, Occasioned by her verses on FriendsLip, HTLE, CUo, pond'ring o'er thy lines I roll, Dwell on each thought, and meditate thy soul, Methinks I view thee, in some calm retreat, I'ar frojn all guilt, distraction, and deceit ; Thence pitying view, the thoughtless fair and gay, Who whirl their lives in giddiness away. Thence greatly scorning \\hat the world calls great, Contemn the proud, their tumults, pov\'r,and state. And deem it thence inglorious to descend I'or ought below, but virtue and a friend. How com'st thou fram'd so diff'rent from thy sex, Whom trifles ravish, and whom trifles vex.^ Capricious things, all flutter, whim and show, And light and varying as the winds that blow. To candour, sense, to love, to friendship blind, B Y L A D Y M O N T A G L E. 3i 3 T-oflatt'iers fools, and coxcombs o ily kind! S ciy wiieuce those hJnls, those br yht ideas came, T hat warm thy hiea.st with friendship's holy Uaine? T hat close thy heart against th- jo\s of yn horseback. The !Mall, the principal walk in St. Ja- mes's park, near the king's palace, in London. P. 9, /. 25. What d'ye call him, etc. : tlie buffoon T^ho amuses the populace at fairs. P. 16, /. 3. Mrs. Blackacre : a character in Wicherley's comedy of the Plain Dealer, like CJii ■ caneau in the Plaideiirs of Racine. P. 22, /. 9. By a Latin, French, and English poet : P lauiiis ^ Moliere ^ and Dnden. p. 23, /. 10. Collier : an eccles'astick, -vvho TATOte a severe book against all drama tick performances. P. 24,/. i5. May day: the first of may is llie holyday of the women who supply the inhabitants of London with milk. They used to dance befoie the doors of their customers, >Yith large garlands ou their heads. P. 26, /. 23. Groom of the stole: dame d'atours. P. 28, /. 12. Tirgil. ... See the fifth book of the AEneid. P. 29, /. 27. Ratafia... Lady M insinuates that old maids in England, to comfort themsehes under the loss of their youth'and beauty, had ro- 3ifi NOTES. fcl ttemse^^^^Jlfcw^i^t!^ other games. »►*£. ^4o^^^L^^|o|kd|' : almost all the doors in ^,^m>ndoTH^iPi^^ ^r tV.'^^tt^^^ knockers ( m«r?(^Lx '^. instea»of bells. Tn^loolmen prhft themscl^^mn their agiKv>»n knocVing to announce the arri%a^La visitor. ^^ P. 28 2, /!^*K Harry keeps her box : those who retain places in the boxes at the playhouses send a servant, at the opening of the doors, to keep the places allotted for them. 520 NOTES. P. 283, /. 1 1. Lilly : a faYuous perfumer ; Mot teux: a dealer in Indian goods. P. 287, /. 14. Timou: the duke of Cliandois. | Ibid. I. 26. (lanoiis: a magnificent country! house built by the duke of Chandois, about thre< leagues 'rom London, and totally destroyed a fev years after his death, and the park let to differeu farmers. ^ P. 309, /. 9. Hartshorn, esprit de cofne d^ cerf: some drops of \Yhich were taken with tea^ anil considered as a preventive of the vapours. P . 3i I , /. 26. Deard: wife of an eminent toyniau at Rath. P. 3 1 2, /. I. Lindsay and Hayes; proprietors of the ball-rooms. Ibid. I. 9. Nash: master of the ceremonies at! balls, concerts, etc., in which office he had such au- thority that he was not only regarded as arbiter elf ganticej but as legislator for the police of Eatb. S. Baldwin. t. ^miAm/^ S OCTf /^ 2. 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