part, I know a Method by which I think I shall keep inviolable the Faith that any Wife shall plight to me. I will say no more of it at present, but you will hear of it in a little Time. […]
The news of the Sultan’s return being spread, the Courtiers came betimes in the morning before his Pavilion to wait on him. He ordered them to enter, received them with a more pleasant Air than formerly, and gave each of them a Gratification. After which he told ’em, he would go no further, ordered them to take Horse, and returned speedily to his Palace.
As soon as ever he arriv’d he run to the Sultaness’s Apartment, commanded her to be bound before him, and delivered her to his Grand Vizier, with an Order to strangle her, which was accordingly executed by that Minister without enquiring into her Crime. The enraged Prince did not stop here, he cut off the Heads of all the Sultaness’s ladies with his own Hand. After this rigorous Punishment, being perswaded that no Woman was Chaste, he resolved, in order to prevent the Disloyalty of such as he should afterwards marry to wed one every Night, and have her strangled next Morning. Having imposed this cruel Law upon himself, he swore that he would observe it immediately….
Schahriar ordered his Grand Vizier to bring him the Daughter of one of his Generals. The Vizier obey’d; the Sultan lay with her, and putting her next Morning in his Hands again in order to be strangled, commanded him to get him another next Night. Whatever reluctancy the Vizier had to put such Orders into execution, as he owed blind Obedience to the Sultan his Master, he was forced to submit. He brought him the daughter of a Subaltern, whom he also cut off next Day. After her he brought a Citizen’s Daughter; and, in a word, there was every Day a Maid married and a Wife murdered. […]
The Grand Vizier who, as has already been said, was the Executioner of this horrid Injustice against his will, had two Daughters, the eldest called Scheherazade, and the youngest Dinarzade; the latter was a Lady of very great Merit, but the Elder had Courage, Wit and Penetration infinitely above her Sex; she had read abundance and had such a prodigious Memory that she never forgot any thing. She had successively applied her self to Philosophy, Physick, History, and the Liberal Arts; and for Verse exceeded the best Poets of her Time. Besides this she was a perfect Beauty, and all her fine Qualifications were crowned by solid Vertue.
The Vizier passionately loved a Daughter so worthy of his tender Affection; and one day as they were discoursing together, she says to him, Father, I have one Favour to beg of you, and most humbly pray you to grant it me. I will not refuse it, answers he, provided it be Just and Reasonable. For the Justice of it, says she, there can be no Question, and you may judge of it by the Motive which obliges me to demand it of you. I have a Design to stop the Course of that Barbarity which the Sultan exercises upon the Families of this City.
* * *
The Twentieth Night
[…] They all ascended the Mountain, and at the foot of it they saw, to their great surprize a vast Plain that nobody had observed till then, and at last they came to the Pond, which they found actually to be situated betwixt four Hills, as the Fisher‐man had said.
The water of it was so transparent that they observ’d all the Fishes to be like those which the Fisher‐man had brought to the Palace. The Sultan stayed upon the Bank of the Pond, and after beholding the Fishes with Admiration, he demanded of his Emirs and all his Courtiers if it was possible they had never seen this Pond, which was within so little a Way of the Town. They all answered that they had never so much as heard of it. Since you all agree, says he, that you never heard of it, and that I am no less astonished than you are at this Novelty, I am resolved not to return to my Palace till I know how this Pond comes hither, and why all the Fish in it are of four Colours. […]
He put on a Suit fit for walking, and took his Scimiter, and as soon as he saw that all was quiet in the Camp, he goes out alone, and went over one of the Hills without much difficulty, he found the descent still more easy, and when he came to the Plain, walked on till the Sun rose, and then he saw before him, at a considerable distance, a great Building. He rejoyc’d at the sight, in hopes to be inform’d there of what he had a mind to know. When he came near, he found it was a magnificent Palace, or rather a very strong Castle, of fine black polish’d Marble, and cover’d with fine Steel, as smooth as a Looking‐glass. Being mightily pleas’d that he had so speedily met with something worthy of his Curiosity, he stopp’d before the front of the Castle, and consider’d it with abundance of Attention. […] At last he enter’d, and when he came within the Porch, he cried, Is there nobody here to receive a stranger, who comes in for some Refreshment as he passes by? He repeated the same two or three times; but tho’ he spoke very high, no body answer’d. This silence increased his Astonishment; he came into a very spacious Court, and looking on every side, to see if he could perceive any body, he saw no living thing – But, Sir, says Scheherazade, Day appears, and I must stop.
Ah! Sister, says Dinarzade, you break off at the very best of the Story. It is true, answers the Sultaness, but Sister, you see I am forc’d to do so. If my Lord the Sultan pleases, you may hear the rest to Morrow. Schahriar agreed to this, not so much to please Dinarzade, as to satisfy his own Curiosity, being mighty impatient to know what adventure the Prince met with in the Castle.
The Twenty‐First Night
Dinarzade, to make amends for her neglect the Night before, never laid Eye together, and when she thought it was time, wak’d the Sultaness, saying to her, My Dear Sister, pray give us an account of what happened in the fine Castle, where you left us yesterday.
Scheherazade forthwith resum’d her Story, and addressing herself to Schahriar says, Sir, the Sultan perceiving nobody in the Court, enter’d the Great Halls, which were hung with Silk Tapestry, the Alcoves and Sofas were cover’d with Stuffs of Mecca, and the Porches with the richest Stuffs of the Indies, mixt with Gold and Silver. He came afterwards into an admirable Saloon, in the middle of which there was a great Fountain, with a Lion of massy Gold at each corner. Water issued at the Mouths of the Four Lions, and this Water, as it fell, form’d Diamonds and Pearls, that very well answer’d a Jett of Water, which springing from the middle of the Fountain, rose as high almost as the bottom of a Cupulo, painted after the Arabian manner.
The Castle on three sides was encompassed by a Garden, with Flower‐Pots, Waterworks, Groves, and a thousand other fine things concurr’d to embellish it; and what completed the Beauty of the place, was an infinite number of Birds, which fill’d the Air with their harmonious Notes, and always staid there, Nets being spread over the Trees, and fasten’d to the Palace to keep them in. The Sultan walked a long time from Apartment to Apartment, where he found every thing very great and magnificent. Being tir’d with walking, he sat down in an open Closet, which had a view over the Garden.
IIA3 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (1689–1762) Letters from the Turkish Empire
Mary Pierrepoint was the daughter of the fifth earl of Kingston and his wife Lady Mary Fielding, a cousin of the novelist Henry Fielding. In 1712, she eloped to marry the Whig MP Edward Wortley Montagu. Her independent character had ensured that she became unusually well educated for a woman of the period, and by the time of her marriage she was an author of poetry and an epistolary novel. After her marriage she became a prominent society hostess. In 1716, Montagu was appointed Ambassador to Constantinople, and Lady Mary went with him. The letters written to friends in England from her journey through Europe and her eventual residence in Constantinople, led to Mary Wortley Montagu’s lasting literary fame. Her capacity for independent judgement punctured many myths about the Orient, not least about the position of women in Turkish society. Not that her open‐minded letters could single‐handedly overcome ingrained stereotypes. A case in point concerns her accounts of women’s
