the imagination of European male artists, including, pre‐eminently, Ingres (cf. IIIB12). Here, we have selected four letters, from over 50 which she wrote. Two contain the famous descriptions of the interior of a female bath‐house in Sofia and another in Constantinople. The others focus on material culture, including a Sultana’s rich dress and the Grand Vizier’s palace. The letters also draw comparisons between Ottoman and English society, frequently to the advantage of the former. The extracts are taken from Lord Wharncliffe (ed.), The Letters and Works of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, London 1861, vol. 1, pp. 283–7, 343–5, 359–62 and 368–70.
To the Lady—
Adrianople, April 1, 1717
I am now got into a new world, where every thing I see appears to me a change of scene; and I write to your ladyship….
I won’t trouble you with a relation of our tedious journey; but I must not omit what I saw remarkable at Sophia, one of the most beautiful towns in the Turkish empire, and famous for its hot baths, that are resorted to both for diversion and health. I stopped here one day on purpose to see them. Designing to go incognita, I hired a Turkish coach. […]
In one of these covered waggons, I went to the bagnio about ten o’clock. It was already full of women. 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 joined together, the outmost being less than the rest, and serving only as a hall, where the portress stood at the door … The next room is a very large one paved with marble, and all round it, raised, two sofas of marble, one above another. There were four fountains of cold water in this room, falling first into marble basins, 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, it was impossible to stay there with one’s clothes on. The two other domes were the hot baths, one of which had cocks of cold water turning into it to temper it to what degree of warmth the bathers have a mind to.
I was in my travelling habit, which is a riding dress, and certainly appeared very extraordinary to them. Yet there was not one of them that shewed the least surprize or impertinent curiosity, but received me with all the obliging civility possible. I know no European court where the ladies would have behaved themselves in so polite a manner to a stranger. I believe in the whole, there were two hundred women, and yet none of those disdainful smiles, or satiric whispers, that never fail in our assemblies when any body appears that is not dressed exactly in the fashion … The first sofas were covered with cushions and rich carpets, on which sat the ladies; and on the second, their slaves behind them, but without any distinction of rank by their dress, all being in the state of nature, that is, in plain English, stark naked, without any beauty or defect concealed. Yet there was not the least wanton smile or immodest gesture amongst them. They walked and moved with the same majestic grace which Milton describes of our general mother. There were many amongst them as exactly proportioned as ever any goddess was drawn by the pencil of 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.
I was here convinced of the truth of a reflection I had often made, that if it was the fashion to go naked, the face would be hardly observed. I perceived that the ladies with the finest skins and most delicate shapes had the greatest share of my admiration, though their faces were sometimes less beautiful 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.1 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 coffee or sherbet, and many negligently lying on their cushions, while their slaves (generally pretty girls of seventeen or eighteen) were employed in braiding their hair in several pretty fancies. In short, it is the women’s coffee‐house, where all the news of the town is told, scandal invented, &c. – They generally take this diversion once a‐week, and stay there at least four or five hours, without getting cold by immediate coming out of the hot bath into the cold room, which was very surprizing to me. The lady that seemed the most considerable among them, entreated me to sit by her, and would fain have undressed me for the bath. I excused myself with some difficulty. They being all so earnest in persuading me, I was at last forced to open my shirt, and shew them my stays; which satisfied them very well for, I saw, they believed I was so locked up in that machine, that it was not in my own power to open it, which contrivance they attributed to my husband. […]
I am sure I have now entertained you with an account of such a sight as you never saw in your life, and what no book of travels could inform you of. ’Tis no less than death for a man to be found in one of these places. […]
To the Countess of Mar
Constantinople, March 10, 1718
I went to see the Sultana Hafitén, favourite of the late Emperor Mustapha….
I was led into a large room, with a sofa the whole length of it, adorned with white marble pillars like a ruelle, covered with pale blue figured velvet on a silver ground, with cushions of the same, where I was desired to repose till the Sultana appeared. […] [H]er dress was something so surprisingly rich, I cannot forbear describing it to you. She wore a vest called donalma, and which differs from a caftán by longer sleeves, and folding over at the bottom. It was of purple cloth, strait to her shape, and thick set, on each side; down to her feet, and round the sleeves, with pearls of the best water, of the same size as their buttons commonly are. You must not suppose I mean as large as those of my Lord ——, but about the bigness of a pea; and to these buttons large loops of diamonds, in the form of those gold loops so common upon birthday coats. This habit was tied, at the waist, with two large tassels of smaller pearl, and round the arms embroidered with large diamonds: her shift fastened at the bottom with a great diamond, shaped like a lozenge; her girdle as broad as the broadest English ribbon, entirely covered with diamonds. Round her neck she wore three chains, which reached to her knees: one of large pearl, at the bottom of which hung a fine coloured emerald, as big as a turkey‐egg; another, consisting of two hundred emeralds, close joined together, of the most lively green, perfectly matched, every one as large as a half‐crown piece, and as thick as three crown pieces; and another of small emeralds, perfectly round. But her earrings eclipsed all the rest. They were two diamonds, shaped exactly like pears, as large as a big hazel‐nut. Round her talpoche she had four strings of pearl, the whitest and most perfect in the world, at least enough to make four necklaces, every one as large as the Duchess of Marlborough’s, and of the same size, fastened with two roses, consisting of a large ruby for the middle stone, and round them twenty drops of clean diamonds to each. Beside this, her head‐dress was covered with bodkins of emeralds and diamonds. She wore large diamond bracelets, and had five rings on her fingers, all single diamonds, (except Mr Pitt’s) the largest I ever saw in my life. It is for jewellers to compute the value of these things; but, according to the common estimation of jewels in our part of the world, her whole dress must be worth above a hundred thousand pounds sterling. This I am very sure of, that no European queen has half the quantity; and the empress’s jewels, though very fine, would look very mean near hers. […]
To the Countess of—
May 1718
I am now preparing to leave Constantinople, and perhaps you will accuse me of hypocrisy when I tell you ’tis with regret; but I am used to the air, and have learnt the language. I am easy here … I ramble every day, wrapped up in my ferigée and asmáck, about Constantinople, and amuse myself with seeing all that is curious in it. […]
I was three days ago at one of the finest [bagnios] in the town, and had the opportunity of seeing a Turkish bride received there, and all the ceremonies used
