Letters of the Right Honourable Lady M—y W—y M

Letters of the Right Honourable Lady M—y W—y M—e by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

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Table of Contents
Section	Page

Start of eBook	1
TO	1
PREFACE,	1
ADVERTIsem*nT OF THE EDITOR	2
LETTER 1.	3
LET. II	4
LET. III	5
LETTER VIII	11
LET. IX.	13
LET. XXIII.	33
LET. XXIV.	37
LET. XXVIII	47
STANZA I.	55
STANZA III	56
STANZA IV	56
LET. XLIII	96
LET. XLV	105
CONCERNING	132
VERSES	137
VERSES	139
I.	139
II.	139
III.	139
IV.	139
V.	139
A SUMMARY OF THE CONTENTS.	140
F I N I S.	146

TO

Persons of Distinction, Men of Letters, &c. in differentparts of Europe.

Which contain, among other curious Relations,
accounts of the policy and manners
of the Turks.

Drawn from Sources that have been inaccessible to
other Travellers.

A new edition, complete in onevolume.

London;
printed for Thomas Martin,

M.DCC.XC.

PREFACE,

By A L A D Y.

Written in 1724.

I was going, like common editors, to advertisethe reader of the beauties and excellencies of thework laid before him: To tell him, that the illustriousauthor had opportunities that other travellers, whatevertheir quality or curiosity may have been, cannot obtain;and a genius capable of making the best improvementof every opportunity. But if the reader, afterperusing one letter only has not discernmentto distinguish that natural elegance, that delicacyof sentiment and observation, that easy gracefulness,and lovely simplicity, (which is the perfection ofwriting) and in which these Letters exceedall that has appeared in this kind, or almost in anyother, let him lay the book down, and leave it to thosewho have.

The noble author had the goodness to lend meher Ms. to satisfy my curiosity in some inquiriesI had made concerning her travels; and when I hadit in my hands, how was it possible to part with it? I once had the vanity to hope I might acquaint the public, that it owed this invaluable treasure tomy importunities. But, alas! the most ingeniousauthor has condemned it to obscurity during her life;and conviction, as well as deference, obliges me toyield to her reasons. However, if these Letters appear hereafter, when I am in my grave, let thisattend them, in testimony to posterity, that amongher contemporaries, one woman, at least, wasjust to her merit.

There is not any thing so excellent, but somewill carp at it; and the (sic) rather, because ofits excellency. But to such hypercritics I shallnot say ************.

I confess, I am malicious enough to desire, thatthe world should see to how much better purpose theLADIES travel than their LORDS; andthat, whilst it is surfeited with Male travels,all in the same tone, and stuffed with the same trifles;a lady has the skill to strike out a new path, andto embellish a worn-out subject with variety of freshand elegant entertainment. For, besides thevivacity and spirit which enliven every part, and thatinimitable beauty which spreads through the whole;besides the purity of the style, for which it mayjustly, be accounted the standard of the English tongue;

the reader will find a more true and accurate accountof the customs and manners of the several nations withwhom this lady conversed, than he can in any otherauthor. But, as her ladyship’s penetrationdiscovers the inmost follies of the heart, so the candourof her temper passed over them with an air of pity,rather than reproach; treating with the politenessof a court, and the gentleness of a lady, what theseverity of her judgment could not but condemn.

In short, let her own sex at least, do her justice;lay aside diabolical Envy, and its brotherMalice [Footnote: This fair and elegant prefacer(sic) has resolved that Malice should be of the masculinegender: I believe it is both masculine and feminine,and I heartily wish it were neuter.] with all theiraccursed company, sly whispering, cruel back-biting,spiteful detraction, and the rest of that hideouscrew, which, I hope, are very falsely said to attendthe Tea-table, being more apt to think, theyfrequent those public places, where virtuous womennever come. Let the men malign one another,if they think fit, and strive to pull down merit, whenthey cannot equal it. Let us be better natured,than to give way to any unkind or disrespectful thoughtof so bright an ornament of our sex, merely becauseshe has better sense; for I doubt not but our heartswill tell us, that this is the real and unpardonableoffence, whatever may be pretended. Let us bebetter Christians, than to look upon her with an evileye, only because the giver of all good gifts hasentrusted and adorned her with the most excellent talents.Rather let us freely own the superiority, of this sublimegenius, as I do, in the sincerity of my soul; pleasedthat a woman triumphs, and proud to followin her train. Let us offer her the palm whichis so justly her due; and if we pretend to any laurels,lay them willingly at her feet.

December 18.. 1724. M.A.

Charm’d into loveof what obscures my fame,
If I had wit, I’d celebrateher name,
And all the beauties of her mindproclaim.
Till Malice, deafen’d withthe mighty sound,
Its ill-concerted calumnies confound;
Let fall the mask, and with paleenvy meet,
To ask and find, their pardon ather feet.

You see, Madam, how I lay every thing at your feet. As the tautology shews (sic) the poverty of my genius,it likewise shews the extent of your empire over myimagination.

May 31. 1725.

ADVERTIsem*nT OF THE EDITOR

THE editor of these letters, who, during his residenceat Venice, was honoured with the esteem and friendshipof their ingenious and elegant author, presents themto the public, for the two following reasons:

First, Because it was the manifest intentionof the late Lady M——y W——YM——e; that this SELECT COLLECTIONof her letters should be communicated to the public:an intention declared, not only to the editor, butto a few more chosen friends, to whom she gave, copiesof the incomparable letters.

The second, and principal reason, that hasengaged the editor to let this Collection see thelight, is, that the publication of these letters willbe an immortal monument to the memory of Lady M——yW——y M——e; andwill shew, as long as the English language endures,the sprightliness of her wit, the solidity of her judgment,the extent of her knowledge, the elegance of her taste,and the excellence of her real character.

The SELECT COLLECTION, here published, was faithfullytranscribed from the original manuscript of her ladyshipat Venice.

The letters from Ratisbon, Vienna, Dresden, Peterwaradin,Belgrade, Adrianople, Constantinople, Pera, Tunis,Genoa, Lyons, and Paris, are certainly, the most curiousand interesting part of this publication; and, bothin point of matter and form, are, tosay no more of them, singularly worthy of the curiosityand attention of all men of taste, and evenof all women of fashion. As to thosefemale readers, who read for improvement, and thinktheir beauty an insipid thing, if it is not seasonedby intellectual charms, they will find in these letterswhat they seek for; and will behold in their author,an ornament and model to their sex.

LETTER 1.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Rotterdam, Aug. 3. O. S. 1716.

I FLATTER, myself, dear sister, that I shall giveyou some pleasure in letting you know that I havesafely passed the sea, though we had the ill fortuneof a storm. We were persuaded by the captainof the yacht to set out in a calm, and he pretendedthere was nothing so easy as to tide it over; but,after two days slowly moving, the wind blew so hard,that none of the sailors could keep their feet, andwe were all Sunday night tossed very handsomely. I never saw a man more frighted (sic) than the captain. For my part, I have been so lucky, neither to sufferfrom fear nor seasickness; though, I confess, I wasso impatient to see myself once more upon dry land,that I would not stay till the yacht could get toRotterdam, but went in the long-boat to Helvoetsluys,where we had voitures to carry us to the Briel. I was charmed with the neatness of that little town;but my arrival at Rotterdam presented me a new sceneof pleasure. All the streets are paved withbroad stones, and before many of the meanest artificersdoors are placed seats of various coloured marbles,so neatly kept, that, I assure you, I walked almostall over the town yesterday, incognito, inmy slippers without receiving one spot of dirt; andyou may see the Dutch maids washing the pavement ofthe street, with more application than ours do ourbed-chambers. The town seems so full of people,with such busy faces, all in motion, that I can hardlyfancy it is not some celebrated fair; but I see itis every day the same. ’Tis certain notown can be more advantageously situated for commerce.

Here are seven large canals, on which the merchantsships come up to the very doors of their houses. The shops and warehouses are of a surprising neatnessand magnificence, filled with an incredible quantityof fine merchandise, and so much cheaper than whatwe see in England, that I have much ado to persuademyself I am still so near it. Here is neitherdirt nor beggary to be seen. One is not shockedwith those loathsome cripples, so common in London,nor teased with the importunity of idle fellows andwenches, that chuse (sic) to be nasty and lazy. The common servants, and little shop-women, here,are more nicely clean than most of our ladies; andthe great variety of neat dresses (every woman dressingher head after her own fashion) is an additional pleasurein seeing the town. You see, hitherto, I makeno complaints, dear sister; and if I continue to liketravelling as I do at present, I shall not repentmy project. It will go a great way in makingme satisfied with it, if it affords me an opportunityof entertaining you. But it is not from Hollandthat you may expect a disinterested offer. I can write enough in the stile (sic) of Rotterdam,to tell you plainly, in one word that I expect returnsof all the London news. You see I have alreadylearnt to make a good bargain; and that it is notfor nothing I will so much as tell you, I am your affectionatesister.

LET. II

TO MRS. S——.

Hague, Aug. 5. O. S. 1716.

I MAKE haste to tell you, dear Madam, that, afterall the dreadful fatigues you threatened me with,I am hitherto very well pleased with my journey. We take care to make such short stages every day,that I rather fancy myself upon parties of pleasure,than upon the road; and sure nothing can be more agreeablethan travelling in Holland. The whole countryappears a large garden; the roads are well paved,shaded on each side with rows of trees, and borderedwith large canals, full of boats, passing and repassing. Every twenty paces gives you the prospect of somevilla, and every four hours that of a large town,so surprisingly neat, I am sure you would be charmedwith them. The place I am now at is certainlyone of the finest villages in the world. Hereare several squares finely built, and (what I thinka particular beauty) the whole set with thick largetrees. The Vour-hout is, at the sametime, the Hyde-Park and Mall of the people of quality;for they take the air in it both on foot and in coaches. There are shops for wafers, cool liquors, &c.—Ihave been to see several of the most celebrated gardens,but I will not teaze (sic) you with their descriptions. I dare say you think my letter already long enough. But I must not conclude without begging your pardon,for not obeying your commands, in sending the laceyou ordered me. Upon my word, I can yet findnone, that is not dearer than you may buy it at London. If you want any India goods, here are great varietyof penny-worths; and I shall follow your orders withgreat pleasure and exactness; being, DearMadam, &c. &c.

LET. III

TO MRS. S. C.

Nimeguen, Aug.13. O. S. 1716.

I AM extremely sorry, my dear S. that your fears ofdisobliging your relations, and their fears for yourhealth and safety, have hindered me from enjoyingthe happiness of your company, and you the pleasureof a diverting journey. I receive some degreeof mortification from every agreeable novelty, orpleasing prospect, by the reflection of your havingso unluckily missed the delight which I know it wouldhave given you. If you were with me in this town,you would be ready to expect to receive visits fromyour Nottingham friends. No two places wereever more resembling; one has but to give the Maesethe name of the Trent, and there is no distinguishingthe prospect. The houses, like those of Nottingham,are built one above another, and are intermixed inthe same manner with trees and gardens. The towerthey call Julius Caesar’s, has the same situationwith Nottingham castle; and I cannot help fancying,I see from it the Trentfield, Adboulton, places sowell known to us. ’Tis true, the fortificationsmake a considerable difference. All the learnedin the art of war bestow great commendations on them;for my part, that know nothing of the matter, I shallcontent myself with telling you, ’tis a verypretty walk on the ramparts, on which there is a tower,very deservedly called the Belvidera; where peoplego to drink coffee, tea, &c. and enjoy one of thefinest prospects in the world. The public walkshave no great beauty but the thick shade of the trees,which is solemnly delightful. But I must notforget to take notice of the bridge, which appearedvery surprising to me. It is large enough tohold hundreds of men, with horses and carriages. They give the value of an English two-pence to getupon it, and then away they go, bridge and all, tothe other side of the river, with so slow a motion,one is hardly sensible of any at all. I was yesterdayat the French church, and stared very much at theirmanner of service. The parson clapped on a broad-brimmedhat in the first place, which gave him entirely theair of what d’ye call him, in Bartholomewfair, which he kept up by extraordinary antic gestures,and preaching much such stuff as the other talkedto the puppets. However, the congregation seemedto receive it with great devotion; and I was informedby some of his flock, that he is a person of particularfame amongst them. I believe, by this time,you are as much tired with my account of him, as Iwas with his sermon; but I am sure your brother willexcuse a digression in favour of the church of England. You know speaking disrespectfully of the Calvinists,is the same thing as speaking honourably of the church. Adieu, my dear S. always remember me; and be assuredI can never forget you, &c. &c.

LET. IV.

TO THE LADY ——.

Cologn (sic), Aug, 16. O. S. 1716.

IF my lady —— could have any notionof the fatigues that I have suffered these two lastdays, I am sure she would own it a great proof ofregard, that I now sit down to write to her. We hired horses from Nimeguen hither, not having theconveniency (sic) of the post, and found but veryindifferent accommodations at Reinberg, our firststage; but it was nothing to what I suffered yesterday. We were in hopes to reach Cologn; our horses tiredat Stamel, three hours from it, where I was forcedto pass the night in my clothes, in a room not atall better than a hovel; for though I have my bed withme, I had no mind to undress, where the wind came froma thousand places. We left this wretched lodgingat day-break, and about six this morning came safehere, where I got immediately into bed. I sleptso well for three hours, that I found myself perfectlyrecovered, and have had spirits enough to go and seeall that is curious in the town, that is to say, thechurches, for here is nothing else worth seeing. This is a very large town, but the most part of itis old built. The Jesuits church, which is theneatest, was shewed (sic) me, in a very complaisantmanner, by a handsome young Jesuit; who, not knowingwho I was, took a liberty in his compliments and railleries,which very much diverted me. Having never beforeseen any thing of that nature, I could not enough admirethe magnificence of the altars, the rich images ofthe saints (all massy silver) and the enchassuresof the relicks (sic); though I could not help murmuring,in my heart, at the profusion of pearls, diamonds,and rubies, bestowed on the adornment of rotten teeth,and dirty rags. I own that I had wickednessenough to covet St Ursula’s pearl necklaces;though perhaps this was no wickedness at all, an imagenot being certainly one’s neighbour’s;but I went yet farther, and wished the wench herselfconverted into dressing-plate. I should alsogladly see converted into silver, a great St Christopher,which I imagine would look very well in a cistern. These were my pious reflections: though I wasvery well satisfied to see, piled up to the honourof our nation, the skulls of the eleven thousand virgins. I have seen some hundreds of relicks here of no less,consequence; but I will not imitate the common stile(sic) of travellers so far, as to give you a listof them; being persuaded, that you have no manner ofcuriosity for the titles given to jaw-bones and bitsof worm-eaten wood.—Adieu, I am just goingto supper, where I shall drink your health in an admirablesort of Lorrain (sic) wine, which I am sure is thesame you call Burgundy in London, &c. &c.

LET. V.

TO THE COUNTESS OF B——.

Nuremberg, Aug. 22. O. S. 1716.

AFTER five days travelling post, I could not sit downto write on any other occasion, than to tell my dearlady, that I have not forgot her obliging command,of sending her some account of my travels. Ihave already passed a large part of Germany, haveseen all that is remarkable in Cologn, Frankfort,Wurtsburg, and this place. ’Tis impossiblenot to observe the difference between the free townsand those under the government of absolute princes,as all the little sovereigns of Germany are. In the first, there appears an air of commerce andplenty. The streets are well-built, and fullof people, neatly and plainly dressed. The shopsare loaded with merchandise, and the commonalty areclean and cheerful. In the other you see a sortof shabby finery, a number of dirty people of qualitytawdered (sic) out; narrow nasty streets out of repair,wretchedly thin of inhabitants, and above half ofthe common sort asking alms. I cannot help fancyingone under the figure of a clean Dutch citizen’swife, and the other like a poor town lady of pleasure,painted and ribboned out in her head-dress, with tarnishedsilver-laced shoes, a ragged under-petticoat, a miserablemixture of vice and poverty.—They havesumptuary laws in this town, which distinguish theirrank by their dress, prevent the excess which ruinsso many other cities, and has a more agreeable effectto the eye of a stranger, than our fashions. I need not be ashamed to own, that I wish these lawswere in force in other parts of the world. Whenone considers impartially, the merit of a rich suitof clothes in most places, the respect and the smilesof favour it procures, not to speak of the envy andthe sighs it occasions (which is very often the principalcharm to the wearer), one is forced to confess, thatthere is need of an uncommon understanding to resiftthe temptation of pleasing friends and mortifyingrivals; and that it is natural to young people to fallinto a folly, which betrays them to that want of moneywhich is the source of a thousand basenesses (sic). What numbers of men have begun the world with generousinclinations, that have afterwards been the instrumentsof bringing misery on a whole people, being led byvain expence (sic) into debts that they could clearno other way but by the forfeit of their honour, andwhich they never could have contracted, if the respectthe multitude pays to habits, was fixed by law, onlyto a particular colour or cut of plain cloth! These reflections draw after them others that aretoo melancholy. I will make haste to put themout of your head by the farce of relicks, with whichI have been entertained in all Romish churches.

THE Lutherans are not quite free from these follies. I have seen here, in the principal church, a largepiece of the cross set in jewels, and the point ofthe spear, which they told me very gravely, was thesame that pierced the side of our Saviour. ButI was particularly diverted in a little Roman Catholicchurch which is permitted here, where the professorsof that religion are not very rich, and consequentlycannot adorn their images in so rich a manner as theirneighbour. For, not to be quite destitute ofall finery, they have dressed up an image of our Saviourover the altar, in a fair full-bottomed wig very wellpowdered. I imagine I see your lady ship stareat this article, of which you very much doubt theveracity; but, upon my word, I have not yet made useof the privilege of a traveller; and my whole accountis written with the same plain sincerity of heart,with which I assure you that I am, dear Madam,

yours,&c. &c.

LET. VI.

To MRS P——.

Ratisbon, Aug. 30 O. S. 1716.

I HAD the pleasure of receiving yours, but the daybefore I left London. I give you a thousandthanks for your good wishes, and have such an opinionof their efficacy that, I am persuaded, I owe in part,to them, the good luck of having proceeded so far onmy long journey without any ill accident. ForI don’t reckon it any, to have been stoppeda few days in this town by a cold, since it has notonly given me an opportunity of seeing all that iscurious in it, but of making some acquaintance withthe ladies, who have all been to see me with greatcivility, particularly Madame ——,the wife of our king’s envoy from Hanover. She has carried me to all the assemblies, and I havebeen magnificently entertained at her house, whichis one of the finest here. You know, that allthe nobility of this place are envoys from differentstates. Here are a great number of them, andthey might pass their time agreeably enough, if theywere less delicate on the point of ceremony. But instead of joining in the design of making thetown as pleasant to one another as they can, and improvingtheir little societies, they amuse themselves no otherway than with perpetual quarrels, which they takecare to eternize (sic), by leaving them to their successors;and an envoy to Ratisbon receives, regularly, halfa dozen quarrels, among the perquisites of his employment. You may be sure the ladies are not wanting, on theirside, in cherishing and improving these importantpicques, which divide the town almost intoas many parties, as there are families. Theychuse rather to suffer the mortification of sittingalmost alone on their assembly nights, than to recedeone jot from their pretensions. I have not beenhere above a week, and yet I have heard from almostevery one of them the whole history of their wrongs,and dreadful complaint of the injustice of their neighbours,

in hopes to draw me to their party. But I thinkit very prudent to remain neuter, though, if I wasto stay amongst them, there would be no possibilityof continuing so, their quarrels running so high, thatthey will not be civil to those that visit their adversaries. The foundation of these everlasting disputes, turnsentirely upon rank, place, and the title of Excellency,which they all pretend to; and, what is very hard,will give it to no body. For my part, I couldnot forbear advising them, (for the public good) togive the title of Excellency to every body; whichwould include the receiving it from every body; butthe very mention of such a dishonourable peace, wasreceived with as much indignation, as Mrs Blackairedid the motion of a reference. And indeed, Ibegan to think myself ill-natured, to offer to takefrom them, in a town where there are so few diversions,so entertaining an amusem*nt. I know that mypeaceable disposition already gives me a very illfigure, and that ’tis publicly whisperedas a piece of impertinent pride in me, that I havehitherto been saucily civil to every body, as if Ithought nobody good enough to quarrel with. I should be obliged to change my behaviour, if I didnot intend to pursue my journey in a few days. I have been to see the churches here, and had thepermission of touching the relicks, which was neversuffered in places where I was not known. Ihad, by this privilege, the opportunity of making anobservation, which I doubt not might have been madein all the other churches, that the emeralds and rubieswhich they show round their relicks and images aremost of them false; though they tell you that manyof the Crosses and Madonas (sic), setround with these stones, have been the gifts of emperorsand other great princes. I don’t doubt,indeed, but they were at first jewels of value; butthe good fathers have found it convenient to applythem to other uses, and the people are just as wellsatisfied with bits of glass amongst these relicks.They shewed me a prodigious claw set in gold, whichthey called the claw of a griffin; and I could notforbear asking the reverend priest that shewed it,Whether the griffin was a saint? The questionalmost put him beside his gravity; but he answered,They only kept it as a curiosity. I was verymuch scandalised at a large silver image of the Trinity,where the Father is represented under the figureof a decrepit old man, with a beard down to his knees,and triple crown on his head, holding in his armsthe Son, fixed on the cross, and the HolyGhost, in the shape of a dove, hovering over him.Madam —— is come this minute to callme to the assembly, and forces me to tell you, veryabruptly, that I am ever your, &c. &c.

LET. VII.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Vienna, Sept. 8. O. S. 1716.

I AM now, my dear sister, safely arrived at Vienna;and, I thank God, have not at all suffered in my health,nor (what is dearer to me) in that of my child, byall our fatigues. We travelled by water fromRatisbon, 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 conveniencesof a palace, stoves in the chambers, kitchens, &c. They are rowed by twelve men each, and move withsuch incredible swiftness, that in the same day youhave the pleasure of a vast variety of prospects;and, within the space of a few hours, you have thepleasure of seeing a populous city adorned with magnificentpalaces, and the most romantic solitudes, which appeardistant from the commerce of mankind, the banks ofthe Danube being charmingly diversified with woods,rocks, mountains covered with vines, fields of corn,large cities, and ruins of ancient castles. I saw the great towns of Passau and Lintz, famous forthe retreat of the imperial court, when Vienna wasbesieged. This town, which has the honour ofbeing the emperor’s residence, did not at allanswer my expectation, nor ideas of it, being muchless than I expected to find it; the streets are veryclose, and so narrow, one cannot observe the finefronts of the palaces, though many of them very welldeserve observation, being truly magnificent. They are built of fine white stone, and are excessivehigh. For as the town is too little for thenumber of the people that desire to live in it, thebuilders seem to have projected to repair that misfortune,by clapping one town on the top of another, most ofthe houses being of five, and some of them six stories. You may easily imagine, that the streets being sonarrow, the rooms are extremely dark; and, what isan inconveniency much more intolerable, in my opinion,there is no house has so few as five or six familiesin it. The apartments of the greatest ladies,and even of the ministers of state, are divided, butby a partition, from that of a taylor (sic) or shoemaker;and I know no body that has above two floors in anyhouse, one for their own use, and one higher for theirservants. Those that have houses of their own,let Out the rest of them to whoever will take them;and thus the great stairs, (which are all of stone)are as common and as dirty as the street. ’Tistrue, when you have once travelled through them, nothingcan be more surprisingly magnificent than the apartments. They are commonly a suite of eight or ten largerooms, all inlaid, the doors and windows richly carvedand gilt, and the furniture, such as is seldom seenin the palaces of sovereign princes in other countries. Their apartments are adorned with hangings of thefinest tapestry of Brussels, prodigious large lookingglasses in silver frames, fine japan tables, beds,chairs, canopies, and window curtains of the richestGenoa damask or velvet, almost covered with gold lace

or embroidery. All this is made gay by pictures,and vast jars of japan china, and large lustres ofrock crystal. I have already had the honourof being invited to dinner by several of the firstpeople of quality; and I must do them the justice tosay, the good taste and magnificence of their tables,very well answered to that of their furniture. I have been more than once entertained with fiftydishes of meat all served in silver, and well dressed;the desert (sic) proportionable, served in the finestchina. But the variety and richness of theirwines, is what appears the most surprising. The constant way is, to lay a list of their names uponthe plates of the guests, along with the napkins; andI have counted several times to the number of eighteendifferent sorts, all exquisite in their kinds. I was yesterday at Count Schoonbourn, the vice-chancellor’sgarden, where I was invited to dinner. I mustown, I never saw a place so perfectly delightful asthe Fauxburg (sic) of Vienna. It is very large,and almost wholly composed of delicious palaces. If the emperor found it proper to permit the gatesof the town to be laid open, that the Fauxburg mightbe joined to it, he would have one of the largestand best built cities in Europe. Count Schoonbourn’svilla is one of the most magnificent; the furnitureall rich brocades, so well fancied and fitted up,nothing can look more gay and splendid; not to speakof a gallery, full of rarities of coral, mother ofpearl, and, throughout the whole house, a profusionof gilding, carving, fine paintings, the most beautifulporcelain, statues of alabaster and ivory, and vastorange and lemon trees in gilt pots. The dinnerwas perfectly fine and well ordered, and made stillmore agreeable by the good humour of the Count. I have not yet been at court, being forced to stayfor my gown, without which there is no waiting onthe empress; though I am not without great impatienceto see a beauty that has been the admiration of somany different nations. When I have had thathonour, I will not fail to let you know my real thoughts,always taking a particular pleasure in communicatingthem to my dear sister.

LETTER VIII

TO MR. P——.

Vienna, Sept.14. O. S. (sic)

PERHAPS you’ll laugh at me for thanking youvery gravely for all the obliging concern you expressfor me. ’Tis certain that I may, if Iplease, take the fine things you say to me for witand raillery; and, it may be, it would be taking themright. But I never, in my life, was half sowell disposed to take you in earnest as I am at present;and that distance which makes the continuation of yourfriendship improbable, has very much increased myfaith in it. I find that I have, (as well asthe rest of my sex) whatever face I set on’t,a strong disposition to believe in miracles. Don’t fancy, however, that I am infected bythe air of these popish countries; I have, indeed,

so far wandered from the discipline of the church ofEngland, as to have been last Sunday at the opera,which was performed in the garden of the Favorita;and I was so much pleased with it, I have not yetrepented my seeing it. Nothing of that kind everwas more magnificent; and I can easily believe whatI am told, that the decorations and habits cost theemperor thirty thousand pounds Sterling. Thestage was built over a very large canal, and, at thebeginning of the second act, divided into two parts,discovering the water, on which there immediatelycame, from different parts, two fleets of little gildedvessels, that gave the representation of a naval fight. It is not easy to imagine the beauty of this scene,which I took particular notice of. But all therest were perfectly fine in their kind. Thestory of the opera is the enchantment of Alcina, whichgives opportunities for great variety of machines,and changes of the scenes, which are performed witha surprising swiftness. The theatre is so large,that it is hard to carry the eye to the end of it,and the habits in the utmost magnificence, to thenumber of one hundred and eight. No house couldhold such large decorations: but the ladies allsitting in the open air, exposes them to great inconveniences;for there is but one canopy for the imperial family;and the first night it was represented, a shower ofrain happening, the opera was broke off, and the companycrowded away in such confusion, that I was almostsqueezed to death.—But if their operasare thus delightful, their comedies are in as higha degree ridiculous. They have but one play-house,where I had the curiosity to go to a German comedy,and was very glad it happened to be the story of Amphitrion(sic). As that subject has been already handledby a Latin, French, and English poet, I was curiousto see what an Austrian author would make of it.I understand enough of that language to comprehendthe greatest part of it; and besides, I took withme a lady, that had the goodness to explain to me everyword. The way is, to take a box, which holdsfour, for yourself and company. The fixed priceis a gold ducat. I thought the house very lowand dark; but I confess, the comedy admirably recompensedthat defect. I never laughed so much in my life. It began with Jupiter’s falling in love outof a peep-hole in the clouds, and ended with the birthof Hercules. But what was most pleasant, wasthe use Jupiter made of his metamorphosis; for youno sooner saw him under the figure of Amphitrion,but, instead of flying to Alcmena, with the rapturesMr Dryden puts into his mouth, he sends for Amphitrion’staylor, and cheats him of a laced coat, and his bankerof a bag of money, a Jew of a diamond ring, and bespeaksa great supper in his name; and the greatest partof the comedy turns upon poor Amphitrion’s beingtormented by these people for their debts. Mercuryuses Sofia in the same manner. But I could noteasily pardon the liberty the poet has taken of lardinghis play with, not only indecent expressions, butsuch gross words, as I don’t think Our mob wouldsuffer from a mountebank. Besides, the two Sofiasvery fairly let down their breeches in the directview of the boxes, which were full of people of thefirst rank, that seemed very well pleased with theirentertainment, and assured me, this was a celebratedpiece. I shall conclude my letter with thisremarkable relation, very well worthy the seriousconsideration of Mr Collier. I won’t troubleyou with farewel (sic) compliments, which I thinkgenerally as impertinent, as courtesies at leavingthe room, when the visit had been too long already.

LET. IX.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Vienna, Sept. 14. O. S.

THOUGH I have so lately troubled you, my dear sister,with a long letter, yet I will keep my promise ingiving you an account of my first going to court. In order to that ceremony, I was squeezed up in agown, and adorned with a gorget and the other implementsthereunto belonging; a dress very inconvenient, butwhich certainly shows the neck and shape to greatadvantage. I cannot forbear giving you somedescription of the fashions here, which are more monstrous,and contrary to all common sense and reason, than ’tispossible for you to imagine. They build certainfabrics of gauze on their heads, about a yard high,consisting of three or four stories, fortified withnumberless yards of heavy ribbon. The foundationof this structure is a thing they call a Bourle,which is exactly of the same shape and kind, but aboutfour times as big as those rolls our prudent milk-maidsmake use of to fix their pails upon. This machinethey cover With their own hair, which they mix witha great deal of false, it being a particular beautyto have their heads too large to go into a moderatetub. Their hair is prodigiously powdered toconceal the mixture, and set out with three or fourrows of bodkins (wonderfully large, that stick outtwo or three inches from their hair) made of diamonds,pearls, red, green, and yellow stones, that it certainlyrequires as much art and experience to carry the loadupright, as to dance upon May-day with the garland. Their whale-bone petticoats outdo ours by severalyards, circumference, and cover some acres of ground. You may easily suppose how this extraordinary dresssets off and improves the natural ugliness, with whichGod Almighty has been pleased to endow them, generallyspeaking. Even the lovely empress herself isobliged to comply, in some degree, with these absurdfashions, which they would not quit for all the world. I had a private audience (according to ceremony)of half an hour, and then all the other ladies werepermitted to come and make their court. I wasperfectly charmed with the empress; I cannot howevertell you that her features are regular; her eyes arenot large, but have a lively look full of sweetness;

her complexion the finest I ever saw; her nose andforehead well made, but her mouth has ten thousandcharms, that touch the soul. When she smiles,’tis with a beauty and sweetness that forcesadoration. She has a vast quantity of fine fairhair; but then her person!—one must speakof it poetically to do it rigid justice; all thatthe poets have said of the mien of Juno, the air ofVenus, come not up to the truth. The Graces movewith her; the famous statue of Medicis was not formedwith more delicate proportions; nothing can be addedto the beauty of her neck and hands. Till Isaw them, I did not believe there were any in natureso perfect, and I was almost sorry that my rank heredid not permit me to kiss them; but they are kissedsufficiently; for every body that waits on her paysthat homage at their entrance, and when they takeleave. When the ladies were come in, she satdown to Quinze. I could not play at a game Ihad never seen before, and she ordered me a seat ather right hand, and had the goodness to talk to mevery much, with that grace so natural to her. I expected every moment, when the men were to comein to pay their court; but this drawing-room is verydifferent from that of England; no man enters it butthe grand-master, who comes in to advertise the empressof the approach of the emperor. His imperialmajesty did me the honour of speaking to me in a veryobliging manner; but he never speaks to any of theother ladies; and the whole passes with a gravity andair of ceremony that has something very formal init. The empress Amelia, dowager of the lateemperor Joseph, came this evening to wait on the reigningempress, followed by the two arch-duch*esses her daughters,who are very agreeable young princesses. Theirimperial majesties rose and went to meet her at thedoor of the room, after which she was seated in anarmed (sic) chair, next the empress, and in the samemanner at supper, and there the men had the permissionof paying their court. The arch-duch*esses saton chairs with backs without arms. The tablewas entirely served, and all the dishes set on bythe empress’s maids of honour, which are twelveyoung ladies of the first quality. They haveno salary, but their chamber at court, where theylive in a sort of confinement, not being suffered togo to the assemblies or public places in town, exceptin compliment to the wedding of a sister maid, whomthe empress always presents with her picture set indiamonds. The three first of them are calledLadies of the Key, and wear gold keys by theirsides; but what I find most pleasant, is the custom,which obliges them, as long as they live, after theyhave left the empress’s service, to make hersome present every year on the day of her feast. Her majesty is served by no married women but thegrande maitresse, who is generally a widow ofthe first quality, always very old, and is at the sametime groom of the stole, and mother of the maids.The dressers are not, at all, in the figure theypretend to in England, being looked upon no otherwisethan as downright chambermaids. I had an audiencenext day Of the empress mother, a princess of greatvirtue and goodness, but who picques herself too muchon a violent devotion. She is perpetually performingextraordinary acts of penance, without having everdone any thing to deserve them. She has thesame number of maids of honour, whom she suffers togo in colours; but she herself never quits her mourning;and sure nothing can be more dismal than the mourninghere, even for a brother. There is not the leastbit of linen to be seen; all black crape (sic) insteadof it. The neck, ears and side of the face arecovered with a plaited piece of the same stuff, andthe face that peeps out in the midst of it, looks asif it were pilloried. The widows wear over andabove, a crape forehead cloth; and, in this solemnweed, go to all the public places of diversion withoutscruple. The next day I was to wait on the empressAmelia, who is now at her palace of retirement, halfa mile from the town. I had there the pleasureof seeing a diversion wholly new to me, but whichis the common amusem*nt of this court. The empressherself was seated on a little throne at the end ofthe fine alley in the garden, and on each side ofher were ranged two parties of her ladies of quality,headed by two Young archduch*esses, all dressed intheir hair, full of jewels, with fine light guns intheir hands; and at proper distances were placed threeoval pictures, which were the marks to be shot at. The first was that of a CUPID, filling a bumper ofBurgundy, and the motto, ’Tis easy to be valianthere. The second a FORTUNE, holding a garlandin her hand, the motto, For her whom Fortune favours. The third was a SWORD, with a laurel wreath on thepoint, the motto, Here is no shame to be vanquished.—Nearthe empress was a gilded trophy wreathed with flowers,and made of little crooks, on which were hung richTurkish handkerchiefs, tippets, ribbons, laces, &c.for the small prizes. The empress gave the firstwith her own hand, which was a fine ruby ring setround with diamonds, in a gold snuff-box. Therewas for the second, a little Cupid set with brilliants,and besides these a set of fine china for the tea-table,enchased in gold, japan trunks, fans, and many gallantriesof the same nature. All the men of quality atVienna were spectators; but the ladies only had permissionto shoot, and the arch-duch*ess Amelia carried off thefirst prize. I was very well pleased with havingseen this entertainment, and I do not know but itmight make as good a figure as the prize-shooting inthe Eneid, if I could write as well as Virgil. This is the favourite pleasure of the emperor, andthere is rarely a week without some feast of thiskind, which makes the young ladies skilful enoughto defend a fort. They laughed very much to seeme afraid to handle a gun. My dear sister, youwill easily pardon an abrupt conclusion. I believe,by this time, you are ready to think I shall neverconclude at all.

LET. X.

TO THE LADY R——.

Vienna, Sept. 20. O. S. 1716.

I AM extremely rejoiced, but not at all surprised,at the long, delightful letter, you have had the goodnessto send me. I know that you can think of anabsent friend even in the midst of a court, and youlove to oblige, where you can have no view of a return;and I expect from you that you should love me, andthink of me, when you don’t see me. Ihave compassion for the mortifications that you tellme befel (sic) our little old friend, and I pity hermuch more, since I know, that they are only owingto the barbarous customs of our country. Uponmy word, if she were here, she would have no otherfault but that of being something too young for thefashion, and she has nothing to do but to transplantherself hither about seven years hence, to be againa young and blooming beauty. I can assure you,that wrinkles, or a small stoop in the shoulders, nay,even gray-hairs (sic), are no objection to the makingnew conquests. I know you cannot easily figureto yourself, a young fellow of five and twenty, oglingmy lady S-ff—k with passion, or pressingto hand the countess of O——d froman opera. But such are the sights I see everyday, and I don’t perceive any body surprized(sic) at them but myself. A woman, till fiveand thirty, is only looked upon as a raw girl, andcan possibly make no noise in the world, till aboutforty. I don’t know what your ladyshipmay think of this matter; but ’tis a considerablecomfort to me, to know there is upon earth such aparadise for old women; and I am content to be insignificantat present, in the design of returning when I am fitto appear no where else. I cannot help, lamenting,on this occasion, the pitiful case of too many Englishladies, long since retired to prudery and ratafia,who, if their stars had luckily conducted hither, wouldshine in the first rank of beauties. Besides,that perplexing word reputation, has quiteanother meaning here than what you give it at London;and getting a lover is so far from losing, that ’tisproperly getting reputation; ladies being much morerespected in regard to the rank of their lovers, thanthat of their husbands.

BUT what you’ll think very odd, the two sectsthat divide our whole nation of petticoats, are utterlyunknown in this place. Here are neither coquettesnor prudes. No woman dares appear coquette enoughto encourage two lovers at a time. And I havenot seen any such prudes as to pretend fidelity totheir husbands, who are certainly the best naturedset of people in the world, and look upon their wives’gallants as favourably as men do upon their deputies,that take the troublesome part of their business offtheir hands. They have not however the lessto do on that account; for they are generally deputiesin another place themselves; in one word, ’tisthe established custom for every lady to have twohusbands, one that bears the name, and another that

performs the duties. And the engagements areso well known, that it would be a downright affront,and publicly resented, if you invited a woman of qualityto dinner, without, at the same time, inviting hertwo attendants of lover and husband, between whomshe sits in state with great gravity. The sub-marriagesgenerally last twenty years together, and the ladyoften commands the poor lover’s estate, evento the utter ruin of his family. These connections,indeed, are as seldom begun by any real passion asother matches; for a man makes but an ill figure thatis not in some commerce of this nature; and a womanlooks out for a lover as soon as she’s married,as part of her equipage, without which she could notbe genteel; and the first article of the treaty isestablishing the pension, which remains to the lady,in case the gallant should prove inconstant. This chargeable point of honour, I look upon as thereal foundation of so many wonderful influences ofconstancy. I really know some women of the firstquality, whose pensions are as well known as theirannual rents, and yet nobody esteems them the less;on the contrary, their discretion would be calledin question, if they should be suspected to be mistressesfor nothing. A great part of their emulationconsists in trying who shall get most; and havingno intrigue at all, is so far a disgrace, that, I’llassure you, a lady, who is very much my friend here,told me but yesterday, how much I was obliged to herfor justifying my conduct in a conversation relatingto me, where it was publicly asserted, that I couldnot possibly have common sense, since I had been intown above a fortnight, and had made no steps towardscommencing an amour. My friend pleaded for me,that my stay was uncertain, and she believed thatwas the cause of my seeming stupidity; and this wasall she could find to say in my justification. But one of the pleasantest adventures I ever met within my life was last night, and it will give you a justidea in what a delicate manner the belles passionsare managed in this country. I was at the assemblyof the countess of -----, and the young count of -----leading me down stairs, asked me how long I was tostay at Vienna? I made answer, that my staydepended on the emperor, and it was not in my powerto determine it. Well, madam, (said he) whetheryour time here is to be longer or shorter, I thinkyou ought to pass it agreeably, and to that end youmust engage in a little affair of the heart.—Myheart, (answered I gravely enough) does not engagevery easily, and I have no design of parting with it. I see, madam, (said he sighing) by the ill natureof that answer, I am not to hope for it, which isa great mortification to me that am charmed with you. But, however, I am still devoted to your service;and since I am not worthy of entertaining you myself,do me the honour of letting me know whom you likebest amongst us, and I’ll engage to manage theaffair entirely to your satisfaction. You mayjudge in what manner I should have received this complimentin my own country; but I was well enough acquaintedwith the way of this, to know that he really intendedme an obligation, and I thanked him with a very gravecourtesy for his zeal to serve me, and only assuredhim, I had no occasion to make use of it. Thusyou see, my dear, that gallantry and good-breedingare as different, in different climates, as moralityand religion. Who have the rightest (sic) notionsof both, we shall never know till the day of judgment;for which great day of eclaircissem*nt, I ownthere is very little impatience in

your,&c. &c.

L E T. XI.

TO MRS J——.

Vienna, Sept. 26. O. S. 1716.

I WAS never more agreeably surprised than by yourobliging letter. ’Tis a peculiar mark ofmy esteem that I tell you so; and I can assure you,that if I loved you one grain less than I do, I shouldbe very sorry to see it so diverting as it is. The mortal aversion I have to writing, makes me trembleat the thoughts of a new correspondent; and I believeI have disobliged no less than a dozen of my Londonacquaintance by refusing to hear from them, thoughI did verily think they intended to send me very entertainingletters. But I had rather lose the pleasureof reading several witty things, than be forced towrite many stuped (sic) ones. Yet, in spite ofthese considerations, I am charmed with the proofof your friendship, and beg a continuation of thesame goodness, though I fear the dulness of this willmake you immediately repent of it. It is notfrom Austria that one can write with vivacity, andI am already infected with the phlegm of the country. Even their amours and their quarrels are carriedon with a surprising temper, and they are never livelybut upon points of ceremony. There, I own, theyshew all their passions; and ’tis not long sincetwo coaches, meeting in a narrow street at night,the ladies in them not being able to adjust the ceremonialof which should go back, sat there, with equal gallantrytill two in the morning, and were both so fully determinedto die upon the spot rather than yield, in a pointof that importance, that the street would never havebeen cleared till their deaths, if the emperor hadnot sent his guards to part them; and even then theyrefused to stir, till the expedient could be foundout of taking them both out in chairs, exactly inthe same moment. After the ladies were agreed,it was with some difficulty that the pass was decidedbetween the two coachmen, no less tenacious of theirrank than the ladies. This passion is so omnipotentin the breasts of the women, that even their husbandsnever die but they are ready to break their hearts,because that fatal hour puts an end to their rank,no widows having any place at Vienna. The menare not much less touched with this point of honour,

and they do not only scorn to marry, but even to makelove to any woman of a family not as illustrious astheir own; and the pedigree is much more consideredby them, than either the complexion of features oftheir mistresses. Happy are the she’s (sic)that can number amongst their ancestors, counts ofthe empire; they have neither occasion for beauty,money, nor good conduct to get them husbands. ’Tis true, as to money, ’tis seldom anyadvantage to the man they marry; the laws of Austriaconfine the woman’s portion to two thousandflorins (about two hundred pounds English), and whateverthey have beside, remains in their own possession anddisposal. Thus, here are many ladies much richerthan their husbands, who are however obliged to allowthem pin-money agreeable to their quality; and I attributeto this considerable branch of prerogative, the libertythat they take upon other occasions. I am sure,you, that know my laziness, and extreme indifferenceon this subject, will pity me, entangled amongst allthese ceremonies, which are a wonderful burden tome, though I am the envy of the whole town, having,by their own customs, the pass before them all. They indeed, so revenge, upon the poor envoys, thisgreat respect shewn to ambassadors, that (with allmy indifference) I should be very uneasy to sufferit. Upon days of ceremony they have no entranceat court, and on other days must content themselveswith walking after every soul, and being the verylast taken notice of. But I must write a volumeto let you know all the ceremonies, and I have alreadysaid too much on so dull a subject, which howeveremploys the whole care of the people here. Ineed not, after this, tell you how agreeably timeslides away with me; you know as well as I do the tasteof, Your’s, &c. &c.

LET. XII.

TO THE LADY X——.

Vienna, Oct. 1. O. S. 1716.

YOU desire me, madam, to send you some accounts ofthe customs here, and at the same time a descriptionof Vienna. I am always willing to obey yourcommands; but you must, upon this occasion, take thewill for the deed. If I should undertake totell you all the particulars, in which the mannershere differ from ours, I must write a whole quireof the dullest stuff that ever was read, or printedwithout being read. Their dress agrees withthe French or English in no one article, but wearingpetticoats. They have many fashions peculiarto themselves; they think it indecent for a widowever to wear green or rose colour, but all the othergayest colours at her own discretion. The assemblieshere are the only regular diversion, the operas beingalways at court, and commonly on some particular occasion. Madam Rabutin has the assembly constantly every nightat her house; and the other ladies, whenever theyhave a mind to display the magnificence of their apartments,or oblige a friend by complimenting them on the dayof their saint, they declare, that on such a day the

assembly shall be at their house in honour of thefeast of the count or countess—sucha one. These days are called days of Gala,and all the friends or relations of the lady, whosesaint it is, are obliged to appear in their best clothes,and all their jewels. The mistress of the housetakes no particular notice of any body, nor returnsany body’s visit; and, whoever pleases, maygo, without the formality of being presented. The company are entertained with ice in several forms,winter and summer; afterwards they divide into severalparties of ombre, piquet, or conversation, all gamesof hazard being forbid.

I SAW t’other day the Gala for Count Altheim,the emperor’s favourite, and never in my lifesaw so many fine clothes ill-fancied. They embroiderthe richest gold stuffs; and provided they can maketheir clothes expensive enough, that is all the tastethey shew in them. On other days, the generaldress is a scarf, and what you please under it.

BUT now I am speaking of Vienna, I am sure you expectI should say something of the convents; they are ofall sorts and sizes, but I am best pleased with thatof St Lawrence, where the ease and neatness they seemto live with, appears to be much more edifying thanthose stricter orders, where perpetual penance andnastiness must breed discontent and wretchedness. The Nuns are all of quality. I think thereare to the number of fifty. They have each ofthem a little cell perfectly clean, the walls of whichare covered with pictures more or less fine, accordingto their quality. A long white stone galleryruns by all of them, furnished With the pictures ofexemplary sisters; the chapel is extremely neat andrichly adorned. But I could not forbear laughingat their shewing me a wooden head of our Saviour,which, they assured me, spoke during the siege of Vienna;and, as a proof of it, bid me mark his mouth, whichhad been open ever since. Nothing can be morebecoming than the dress of these Nuns. It isa white robe, the sleeves of which are turned up withfine white callico (sic), and their head-dress thesame, excepting a small veil of black crape that fallsbehind. They have a lower sort of serving Nuns,that wait on them as their chambermaids. Theyreceive all visits of women, and play at ombre in theirchambers, with permission of their abbess, which isvery easy to be obtained. I never saw an oldwoman so good-natured; she is near fourscore, andyet shews very little sign of decay, being still livelyand cheerful. She caressed me as if I had beenher daughter, giving me some pretty things of herown work, and sweetmeats in abundance. The grateis not of the most rigid; it is not very hard to puta head through, and I don’t doubt but a man,a little more slender than ordinary, might squeezein his whole person. The young count of Salamiscame to the grate, while I was there, and the abbessgave him her hand to kiss. But I was surprisedto find here, the only beautiful young woman I have

seen at Vienna, and not only beautiful but genteel,witty, and agreeable, of a great family, and who hadbeen the admiration of the town. I could notforbear shewing my surprise at seeing a Nun like her. She made me a thousand obliging compliments, anddesired me to come often. It will be an infinitepleasure to me, (said she, sighing) but I avoid, withthe greatest care, seeing any of my former acquaintance,and whenever they come to our convent, I lock myselfin my cell. I observed tears come into her eyes,which touched me extremely, and I began to talk toher in that strain of tender pity she inspired mewith; but she would not own to me, that she is notperfectly happy. I have since endeavoured tolearn the real cause of her retirement, without beingable to get any other account, but that every bodywas surprised at it, and no body guessed the reason. I have been several times to see her; but it givesme too much melancholy to see so agreeable a youngcreature buried alive. I am not surprised thatNuns have so often inspired violent passions; thepity one naturally feels for them, when they seemworthy of another destiny, making an easy way for yetmore tender sentiments. I never in my life hadso little charity for the Roman Catholick (sic) religion,as since I see the misery it occasions; so many poorunhappy women! and then the gross superstition ofthe common people, who are some or other of them, dayand night, offering bits of candle to the wooden figuresthat are set up almost in every street. Theprocessions I see very often, are a pageantry, asoffensive, and apparently contradictory to commonsense, as the pagods (sic) of China. God knowswhether it be the womanly spirit of contradictionthat works in me; but there never before was suchzeal against popery in the heart of,
Dearmadam, &c. &c.

LET. XIII.

TO MR ——.

Vienna, Oct. O. S. 1716.

I DESERVE not all the reproaches you make me. If I have some time without answering your letter,it is not, that I don’t know how many thanksare due to you for it; or that I am stupid enough toprefer any amusem*nts to the pleasure of hearing fromyou; but after the professions of esteem you haveso obligingly made me, I cannot help delaying, aslong as I can, shewing you that you are mistaken. If you are sincere, when you say you expect to beextremely entertained by my letters, I ought to bemortified at the disappointment that I am sure youwill receive when you hear from me; though I have donemy best endeavours to find out something worth writingto you. I have seen every thing that was tobe seen with a very, diligent curiosity. Hereare some fine villas, particularly the late princeof Litchtenstein’s (sic); but the statues areall modern, and the pictures not of the first hands. ’Tis true, the emperor has some of great value. I was yesterday to see the repository, which they

call his Treasure, where they seem to have been morediligent in amassing a great quantity of things, thanin the choice of them. I spent above five hoursthere, and yet there were very few things that stoppedme long to consider them. But the number is prodigious,being a very long gallery filled on both sides, andfive large rooms. There is a vast quantity ofpaintings, amongst which are many fine miniatures;but the most valuable pictures, are a few of Corregio(sic), those of Titian being at the Favorita.

THE cabinet of jewels did not appear to me so richas I expected to see it. They shewed me herea cup, about the size of a tea dish, of one entireemerald, which they had so particular a respect for,that only the emperor has the liberty of touchingit. There is a large cabinet full of curiositiesof clock-work, only one of which I thought worth observing,that was a craw-fish, with all the motions so natural,that it was hard to distinguish it from the life.

THE next cabinet was a large collection of agates,some of them extremely beautiful, and of an uncommonsize, and several vases of Lapis Lazuli. I wassurprised to see the cabinet of medals so poorly furnished;I did not remark one of any value, and they are keptin a most ridiculous disorder. As to the antiques,very few of them deserve that name. Upon mysaying they were modern, I could not forbear laughingat the answer of the profound antiquary that shewedthem, that they were ancient enough; for, to hisknowledge, they had been there these forty years. But the next cabinet diverted me yet better, beingnothing else but a parcel of wax babies, and toys inivory, very well worthy to be presented children offive years old. Two of the rooms were whollyfilled with these trifles of all kinds, set in jewels,amongst which I was desired to observe a crucifix,that they assured me had spoke very wisely to the emperorLeopold. I won’t trouble you with a catalogueof the rest of the lumber; but I must not forget tomention a small piece of loadstone that held up ananchor of steel too heavy for me to lift. Thisis what I thought most curious in the whole treasure. There are some few heads of ancient statues; butseveral of them are defaced by modern additions.I foresee that you will be very little satisfied withthis letter, and I dare hardly ask you to be good-naturedenough to charge the dulness (sic) of it on the barrennessof the subject, and to overlook the stupidity of, Your, &c. &c.

LET. XIV.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Prague, Nov. 17. O. S. 1716.

I HOPE my dear sister wants no new proofs of my sincereaffection for her: but I am sure, if you do,I could not give you a stronger than writing at thistime, after three days, or, more properly speaking,three nights and days, hard post-travelling.—Thekingdom of Bohemia is the most desert of any I haveseen in Germany. The villages are so poor, andthe post-houses so miserable, that clean straw andfair water are blessings not always to be met with,and better accommodation not to be hoped for. Though I carried my own bed with me, I could notsometimes find a place to set it up in; and I ratherchose to travel all night, as cold as it is, wrappedup in my furs, than go into the common stoves, whichare filled with a mixture of all sorts of ill scents.

THIS town was once the royal seat of the Bohemianking, and is still the capital of the kingdom. There are yet some remains of its former splendour,being one of the largest towns in Germany, but, forthe most part, old built, and thinly inhabited, whichmakes the houses very cheap. Those people ofquality, who cannot easily bear the expence of Vienna,chuse to reside here, where they have assemblies,music, and all other diversions, (those of a courtexcepted) at very moderate rates, all things beinghere in great abundance, especially the best wild-fowlI ever tasted. I have already been visited bysome of the most considerable ladies, whose relationsI know at Vienna. They are dressed after thefashions there, after the manner that the people atExeter imitate those of London; that is, their imitationis more excessive than the original. ’Tisnot easy to describe what extraordinary figures theymake. The person is so much lost between head-dressand petticoat, that they have as much occasion towrite upon their backs, “This is a Woman,”for the information of travellers, as ever sign-postpainter had to write, "This is a Bear.”I will not forget to write to you again from Dresdenand Leipzig, being much more solicitous to contentyour curiosity, than to indulge my own repose. I am, &c.

LET. XV.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Leipzig, Nov. 21. O. S. 1716.

I BELIEVE, dear sister, you will easily forgive mynot writing to you from Dresden, as I promised, whenI tell you, that I never went out of my chaise fromPrague to this place. You may imagine how heartilyI was tired with twenty-four hours post-travelling,without sleep or refreshment (for I can never sleepin a coach, however fatigued.) We passed, by moon-shine,the frightful precipices that divide Bohemia fromSaxony, at the bottom, of which runs the river Elbe;but I cannot say, that I had reason to fear drowningin it, being perfectly convinced, that in case ofa tumble, it was utterly impossible to come aliveto the bottom. In many places, the road is sonarrow, that I could not discern an inch of spacebetween the wheels and the precipice. Yet I

was so good a wife, as not to wake Mr W——y,who was fast asleep by my side, to make him sharein my fears, since the danger was unavoidable, tillI perceived, by the bright light of the moon, ourpostilions nodding on horse-back, while the horseswere on a full gallop. Then indeed I thoughtit very convenient to call out to desire them to lookwhere they were going. My calling waked (sic)Mr W——Y, and he was much more surprisedthan myself at the situation we were in, and assuredme, that he passed the Alps five times in differentplaces, without ever having gone a road so dangerous. I have been told since, that ’tis common tofind the bodies of travellers in the Elbe; but, thankGod, that was not our destiny; and we came safe toDresden, so much tired with fear and fatigue, it wasnot possible for me to compose myself to write. After passing these dreadful rocks, Dresden appearedto me a wonderfully agreeable situation, in a finelarge plain on the banks of the Elbe. I wasvery glad to stay there a day to rest myself. The town is the neatest I have seen in Germany; mostof the houses are new built; the elector’s palaceis very handsome, and his repository full of curiositiesof different kinds, with a collection of medals verymuch esteemed. Sir ——, ourking’s envoy, came to see me here, and Madamede L——, whom I knew in London, whenher husband was minister to the king of Poland there. She offered me all things in her power to entertainme, and brought some ladies with her, whom she presentedto me. The Saxon ladies resemble the Austrianno more than the Chinese do those of London; theyare very genteelly dressed, after the English andFrench modes, and have generally pretty faces, butthey are the most determined minaudieres inthe whole world. They would think it a mortalsin against good-breeding, if they either spoke ormoved in a natural manner. They all affect alittle soft lisp, and a pretty pitty-pat step; whichfemale frailties ought, however, 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 countess of Cozelle is kept prisoner in a melancholycastle, some leagues from hence; and I cannot forbeartelling you what I have heard of her, because it seemsto me very extraordinary, though I foresee I shallswell my letter to the size of a pacquet.—Shewas mistress to the king of Poland, (elector of Saxony)with so absolute a dominion over him, that never anylady had so much power in that court. They tella pleasant story of his majesty’s first declarationof love, which he made in a visit to her, bringingin one hand a bag of a hundred thousand crowns, andin the other a horse-shoe, which he snapped asunderbefore her face, leaving her to draw the consequencesof such remarkable proofs of strength and liberality. I know not which charmed her most; but she consentedto leave her husband, and to give herself up to him

entirely, being divorced publicly, in such a manner,as, by their laws, permits either party to marry again.God knows whether it was at this time, or in some otherfond fit, but ’tis certain, the king had theweakness to make her a formal contract of marriage;which, though it could signify nothing during the lifeof the queen, pleased her so well, that she could notbe contented, without telling it to all the peopleshe saw, and giving herself the airs of a queen. Men endure every thing while they are in love; butwhen the excess of passion was cooled by long possession,his majesty began to reflect on the ill consequencesof leaving such a paper in her hands, and desiredto have it restored to him. But she rather choseto endure all the most violent effects of his anger,than give it up; and though she is one of the richestand most avaricious ladies of her country, she hasrefused the offer of the continuation of a large pension,and the security of a vast sum of money she has amassed;and has, at last, provoked the king to confine herperson to a castle, where she endures all the terrorsof a strait imprisonment, and remains still inflexible,either to threats or promises. Her violent passionshave brought her indeed into fits, which ’tissupposed, will soon put an end to her life. Icannot forbear having some compassion for a womanthat suffers for a point of honour, however mistaken,especially in a country where points of honour arenot over scrupulously observed among ladies.

I COULD have wished Mr W——y’sbusiness had permitted him a longer stay at Dresden.

PERHAPS I am partial to a town where they professthe protestant religion; but every thing seemed tome with quite another air of politeness than I havefound in other places. Leipzig, where I am atpresent, is a town very considerable for its trade,and I take this opportunity of buying pages liveries,gold stuffs for myself, &c. all things of that kindbeing at least double the price at Vienna; partlybecause of the excessive customs, and partly throughwant of genius and industry in the people, who makeno one sort of thing there; so that the ladies areobliged to send, even for their shoes, out of Saxony. The fair here is one of the most considerable in Germany,and the resort of all the people of quality, as wellas of the merchants. This is also a fortifiedtown, but I avoid ever mentioning fortifications,being sensible that I know not how to speak of them. I am the more easy Under my ignorance, when I reflectthat I am sure you’ll willingly forgive the omission;for if I made you the most exact description of allthe ravelins and bastions I see in my travels, I dareswear you would ask me, What is a ravelin? and, Whatis a bastion?

Adieu, my dear sister.

LET. XVI.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Brunswick, Nov. 23. O. S. 1716.

I AM just come to Brunswick, a very old town, butwhich has the advantage of being the capital of theduke of Wolsenbuttle’s dominions, a family (notto speak of its ancient honours) illustrious, by havingits younger branch on the throne of England, and havinggiven two empresses to Germany. I have not forgotto drink your health here in mum, which I think verywell deserves its reputation of being the best inthe world. This letter is the third I have writto you during my journey; and I declare to you, thatif you don’t send me immediately a full andtrue account of all the changes and chances amongour London acquaintance, I will not write you anydescription of Hanover (where I hope to be to-night)though I know you have more curiosity to hear of thatplace than any other.

LET. XVII.

TO THE COUNTESS OF B——.

Hanover, Nov. 25. O. S. 1716.

I RECEIVED your ladyship’s letter, but the daybefore I left Vienna, though, by the date, I oughtto have had it much sooner; but nothing was ever worse regulated than the post in most parts of Germany.I can assure you, the pacquet at Prague was behindmy chaise, and in that manner conveyed to Dresden,so that the secrets of half the country were at mymercy, if I had had any curiosity for them. Iwould not longer delay my thanks for yours, thoughthe number of my acquaintances here, and my duty ofattending at court, leave me hardly any time to disposeof. I am extremely pleased that I can tell you,without flattery or partiality, that our young prince[Footnote: The father of his present Majesty.]has all the accomplishments that ’tis possibleto have at his age, with an air of sprightliness andunderstanding, and something so very engaging andeasy in his behaviour, that he needs not the advantageof his rank to appear charming. I had the honourof a long conversation with him last night, beforethe king came in. His governor retired on purpose(as he told me afterwards) that I might make some judgmentof his genius, by hearing him speak without constraint;and I was surprised at the quickness and politenessthat appeared in every thing he said; joined to aperson perfectly agreeable, and the fine fair hairof the princess.

THIS town is neither large nor handsome; but the palaceis capable of holding a much greater court than thatof St James’s. The king has had the goodnessto appoint us a lodging in one part of it, withoutwhich we should have been very ill accommodated; forthe vast number of English, crowds the town so much,’tis very good luck to get one sorry room ina miserable tavern. I dined to-day with the Portugueseambassador, who thinks himself very happy to have twowretched parlours in an inn. I have now madethe tour of Germany, and cannot help observing a considerabledifference between travelling here and in England. One sees none of those fine seats of noblemen, socommon amongst us, nor any thing like a country gentleman’s

house, though they have many situations perfectlyfine. But the whole people are divided intoabsolute sovereignties, where all the riches and magnificenceare at Court, or into communities of merchants, suchas Nurenburg (sic) and Frankfort, where they livealways in town for the convenience of trade. The king’s company of French comedians playhere every night. They are very well dressed,and some of them not ill actors. His majestydines and sups constantly in public. The courtis very numerous, and his affability and goodness makeit one of the most agreeable places in the world.

Dear madam, your, &c. &c.

LET. XVIII.

TO THE LADY R——.

Hanover, Oct. 1. O. S. 1716.

I AM very glad, my dear lady R——,that you have been so well pleased, as you tell me,at the report of my returning to England; though,like other pleasures, I can assure you it has no realfoundation. I hope you know me enough to takemy word against any report concerning me. ’Tistrue, as to distance of place, I am much nearer toLondon than I was some weeks ago; but, as to the thoughtsof a return, I never was farther off in my life. I own, I could with great joy indulge the pleasinghopes of seeing you, and the very few others thatshare my esteem; but while Mr W——is determined to proceed in his design, I am determinedto follow him. I am running on upon my own affairs,that is to say, I am going to write very dully, asmost people do when they write of themselves. I will make haste to change the disagreeable subject,by telling you, that I am now got into the regionof beauty. All the women have (literally) rosycheeks, snowy foreheads and bosoms, jet eye-brows,and scarlet lips, to which they generally add coal-blackhair. Those perfections never leave them, tillthe hour of their deaths, and have a very fine effectby candle light; but I could wish they were handsomewith a little more variety. They resemble oneanother as much as Mrs Salmon’s court of GreatBritain, and are in as much danger of melting away,by too near approaching the fire, which they for thatreason carefully avoid, though ’tis now suchexcessive cold weather, that I believe they sufferextremely by that piece of self-denial. The snowis already very deep, and the people begin to slideabout in their traineaus. This is a favouritediversion all over Germany. They are littlemachines fixed upon a sledge, that hold a lady andgentleman, and are drawn by one horse. The gentlemanhas the honour of driving, and they move with a prodigiousswiftness. The lady, the horse, and the traineau,are all as fine as they can be made; and when thereare many of them together, ’tis a very agreeableshow. At Vienna, where all pieces of magnificenceare carried to excess, there are sometimes machinesof this kind, that cost five or six hundred poundsEnglish. The duke of Wolfenbuttle is now at thiscourt; you know he is nearly related to our king,

and uncle to the reigning empress, who is, I believe,the most beautiful princess upon earth. She isnow with child, which is all the consolation of theimperial court, for the loss of the archduke. I took my leave of her the day before I left Vienna,and she began to speak to me with so much grief andtenderness, of the death of that young prince, I hadmuch ado to withhold my tears. You know thatI am not at all partial to people for their titles;but I own, that I love that charming princess, (ifI may use so familiar an expression) and if I had not,I should have been very much moved at the tragicalend of an only son, born, after being so long desired,and at length killed by want of good management, weaninghim in the beginning of the winter. Adieu, dearlady R——; continue to write to me,and believe none of your goodness is lost upon Your,&c.

LET. XIX.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Blankenburg, OCT. 17. O. S. 1716.

I RECEIVED your’s, dear sister, the very dayI left Hanover. You may easily imagine I wasthen in too great a hurry to answer it; but you seeI take the first opportunity of doing myself that pleasure. I came here the 15th, very late at night, after aterrible journey, in the worst roads and weather thatever poor traveller suffered. I have taken thislittle fatigue merely to oblige the reigning empress,and carry a message from her imperial majesty to theduch*ess of Blankenburg, her mother, who is a princessof great address and good-breeding, and may be stillcalled a fine woman. It was so late when I cameto this town, I did not think it proper to disturbthe duke and duch*ess with the news of my arrival;so I took up my quarters in a miserable inn:but as soon as I had sent my compliments to theirhighnesses, they immediately sent me their own coachand six horses, which had however enough to do todraw us up the very high hill on which the castleis situated. The duch*ess is extremely obligingto me, and this little court is not without its diversions.The duke taillys (sic) at basset every night; and theduch*ess tells me, she is so well pleased with my company,that it makes her play less than she used to do. I should find it very difficult to steal time towrite, if she was not now at church, where I cannotwait on her, not understanding the language enoughto pay my devotions in it. You will not forgiveme, if I do not say something of Hanover; I cannottell you that the town is either large or magnificent. The opera house, which was built by the late elector,is much finer than that of Vienna. I was verysorry that the ill weather did not permit me to seeHernhausen in all its beauty; but in spite of the snow,I thought the gardens very fine. I was particularlysurprised at the vast number of orange trees, muchlarger than any I have ever seen in England, thoughthis climate is certainly colder. But I had morereason to wonder that night at the king’s table,

to see a present from a gentleman of this country,of two large baskets full of ripe oranges and lemonsof different sorts, many of which were quite new tome; and what I thought worth all the rest, two ripeananasses (sic), which, to my taste, are a fruit perfectlydelicious. You know they are naturally the growthof Brazil, and I could not imagine how they came here,but by enchantment. Upon inquiry, I learnt thatthey 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 wouldreceive from the sun in its native soil. Theeffect is very near the same; I am surprised we donot practise (sic) in England so useful an invention. This reflection leads me to consider our obstinacyin shaking with cold, five months in the year ratherthan make use of stoves, which are certainly one ofthe greatest conveniencies (sic) of life. Besides,they are so far from spoiling the form of a room,that they add very much to the magnificence of it,when they are painted and gilt, as they are at Vienna,or at Dresden, where they are often in the shapesof china jars, statues, or fine cabinets, so naturallyrepresented, that they are not to be distinguished. If ever I return, in defiance to the fashion, youshall certainly see one in the chamber of, Dearsister, your, &c.

I WILL write often, since you desire it: butI must beg you to be a little more particular in your’s;you fancy me at forty miles distance, and forget,that, after so long an absence, I can’t understandhints.

LET. XX.

TO THE LADY ——.

Vienna, Jan. 1. O. S. 1717

I HAVE just received here at Vienna, your ladyship’scompliments on my return to England, sent me fromHanover. You see, madam, all things that areasserted with confidence are not absolutely true; andthat you have no sort of reason to complain of me formaking my designed return a mystery to you, when yousay, all the world are informed of it. You maytell all the world in my name, that they are neverso well informed of my affairs as I am myself; thatI am very positive I am at this time at Vienna, wherethe carnival is begun, and all sorts of diversionsare carried to the greatest height, except that ofmasquing (sic), which is never permitted during a warwith the Turks. The balls are in public places,where the men pay a gold ducat at entrance, but theladies nothing. I am told, that these housesget sometimes a thousand ducats in a night. Theyare very magnificently furnished, and the music good,if they had not that detestible (sic) custom of mixinghunting horns with it, that almost deafen the company. But that noise is so agreeable here, they never makea concert without them. The ball always concludeswith English country dances, to the number of thirtyor forty couple, and so ill danced, that there isvery little pleasure in them. They know buthalf a dozen, and they have danced them over and over

these fifty years: I would fain have taught themsome new ones, but I found it would be some monthslabour to make them comprehend them. Last nightthere was an Italian comedy acted at court. Thescenes were pretty, but the comedy itself such intolerablelow farce, without either wit or humour, that I wassurprised how all the court could sit there attentivelyfor four hours together. No women are sufferedto act on the stage, and the men dressed like them,were such awkward figures, they very much added tothe ridicule of the spectacle. What completedthe diversion, was the excessive cold, which was sogreat, I thought I should have died there. Itis now the very extremity of the winter here; theDanube is entirely frozen, and the weather not tobe supported without stoves and furs; but, however,the air so clear, almost every body is well, and coldsnot half so common as in England. I am persuadedthere cannot be a purer air, nor more wholesome, thanthat of Vienna. The plenty and excellence ofall sorts of provisions are greater here than in anyplace I ever was before, and ’tis not very expensiveto keep a splendid table. ’Tis reallya pleasure to pass through the markets, and see theabundance of what we should think rarities, of fowlsand venison, that are daily brought in from Hungaryand Bohemia. They want nothing but shell-fish,and are so fond of oysters, that they have them sentfrom Venice, and eat them very greedily, stink ornot stink. Thus I obey your commands, madam,in giving you an account of Vienna, though I knowyou will not be satisfied with it. You chideme for my laziness, in not telling you a thousandagreeable and surprising things, that you say youare sure I have seen and heard. Upon my Word,madam, ’tis my regard to truth, and not laziness,that I do not entertain you with as many prodigiesas other travellers use to divert their readers with. I might easily pick up wonders in every town I passthrough, or tell you a long series of popish miracles;but I cannot fancy, that there is any thing new inletting you know that priests will lie, and the mobbelieve, all the world over. Then as for news,that you are so inquisitive about, how can it be entertainingto you (that don’t know the people) that theprince of —— has forsaken the countessof ——? or that the prince such a one,has an intrigue with the countess such a one? Would you have me write novels like the countessof D’——? and is it not better totell you a plain truth, That I am, &c.

LET. XXI.

To THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Vienna, Jan. 16. O. S. 1717.

I AM now, dear sister, to take leave of you for along time, and of Vienna for ever; designing to-morrow,to begin my journey through Hungary, in spite of theexcessive cold, and deep snows, which are enough todamp a greater courage than I am mistress of. But my principles of passive obedience, carriesme through every thing. I have had my audienceof leave of the empress. His imperial majestywas pleased to be present, when I waited on the reigningempress; and, after a very obliging conversation,both their imperial majesties invited me to take Viennain my road back; but I have no thoughts of enduring,over again, so great a fatigue. I delivered aletter from the duch*ess of Blankenburg. I stayedbut a few days at that court, though her highnesspressed me very much to stay; and when I left her,engaged me to write to her. I wrote you a longletter from thence, which I hope you have received,though you don’t mention it; but I believe Iforgot to tell you one curiosity in all the Germancourts, which I cannot forbear taking notice of: All the princes keep favourite dwarfs. Theemperor and empress have two of these little monsters,as ugly as devils, especially the female; but theyare all bedaubed with diamonds, and stand at her majesty’selbow, in all public places. The duke of Wolfenbuttlehas one, and the duch*ess of Blankenburg is not withouthers, but indeed the most proportionable I ever saw. I am told the king of Denmark has so far improvedupon this fashion, that his dwarf is his chief minister. I can assign no reason for their fondness for thesepieces of deformity, but the opinion all the absoluteprinces have, that it is below them to converse withthe rest of mankind; and not to be quite alone, theyare forced to seek their companions among the refuseof human nature, these creatures being the only partof their court privileged to talk freely to them. I am at present confined to my chamber by a sorethroat; and am really glad of the excuse, to avoidseeing people, that I love well enough, to be verymuch mortified when I think I am going to part withthem for ever. ’Tis true, the Austriansare not commonly the most polite people in the world,nor the most agreeable. But Vienna is inhabitedby all nations, and I had formed to myself a littlesociety of such as were perfectly to my own taste. And though the number was not very great, I couldnever pick up, in any other place, such a number ofreasonable, agreeable people. We were almostalways together, and you know I have ever been ofopinion, that a chosen conversation, composed of afew that one esteems, is the greatest happiness oflife. Here are some Spaniards of both sexes,that have all the vivacity and generosity of sentimentsanciently ascribed to their nation; and could I believethat the whole kingdom were like them, I would withnothing more than to end my days there. Theladies of my acquaintance have so much goodness forme, they cry whenever they see me, since I have determined

to undertake this journey. And, indeed, I amnot very easy when I reflect on what I am going tosuffer. Almost every body I see frights me withsome new difficulty. Prince Eugene has been sogood as to say all the things he could, to persuademe to stay till the Danube is thawed, that I may havethe conveniency of going by water; assuring me, thatthe houses in Hungary are such, as are no defenceagainst the weather; and that I shall be obliged totravel three or four days between Buda and Essek,without finding any house at all, through desert plainscovered with snow; where the cold is so violent, manyhave been killed by it. I own these terrors havemade a very deep impression on my mind, because Ibelieve he tells me things truly as they are, andno body can be better informed of them.

NOW I have named that great man, I am sure you expectI should say Something particular of him, having theadvantage of seeing him very often; but I am as unwillingto speak of him at Vienna, as I should be to talkof Hercules in the court of Omphale, if I had seenhim there. I don’t know what comfort otherpeople find in considering the weakness of great men,(because, perhaps, it brings them nearer to theirlevel) but ’tis always a mortification to me,to observe that there is no perfection in humanity. The young prince of Portugal is the admiration ofthe whole court; he is handsome and polite, with agreat vivacity. All the officers tell wondersof his gallantry the last campaign. He is lodgedat court with all the honours due to his rank.—Adieu,dear sister: this is the last account you willhave from me of Vienna. If I survive my journey,you shall hear from me again. I can say, withgreat truth, in the words of Moneses (sic), I havelong learnt to hold myself as nothing; but whenI think of the fatigue my poor infant must suffer,I have all a mother’s fondness in my eyes, andall her tender passions in my heart.

P. S. I have written a letter to my lady——, that I believe she won’tlike; and, upon cooler reflection, I think I had donebetter to have let it alone; but I was downright peevishat all her questions, and her ridiculous imagination,that I have certainly seen abundance of wonders whichI keep to myself out of mere malice. She is veryangry that I won’t lie like other travellers. I verily believe she expects I should tell her ofthe Anthropophagi, men whose heads grow belowtheir shoulders; however, pray say Something to pacifyher.

LET. XXII.

TO MR POPE.

Vienna, Jan. 16. O. S. 1717.

I HAVE not time to answer your letter, being in thehurry of preparing for my journey; but, I think, Iought to bid adieu to my friends with the same solemnityas if I was going to mount a breach, at least, ifI 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 setout in. I am threatened at the same time, withbeing frozen to death, buried in the snow, and takenby the Tartars, who ravage that part of Hungary I amto pass. ’Tis true, we shall have a considerableescorte (sic), so that possibly I may be divertedwith a new scene, by finding myself in the midst ofa battle. How my adventures will conclude, Ileave entirely to Providence; if comically, you shallhear of them.—Pray be so good as to tellMr —— I have received his letter. Make him my adieus; if I live, I will answer it. The same compliment to my lady R——.

LET. XXIII.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Peterwaradin, Jan. 30. O. S. 1717.

AT length, dear sister I am safely arrived, with allmy family, in good health, at Peterwaradin; havingsuffered so little from the rigour of the season,(against which we were well provided by furs) andfound such tolerable accommodation every where, bythe care of sending before, that I can hardly forbearlaughing, when I recollect all the frightful ideasthat were given me of this journey. These, Isee, were wholly owing to the tenderness of my Viennafriends, and their desire of keeping me with themfor this winter. Perhaps it will not be disagreeableto you, to give a short journal of my journey, beingthrough a country entirely unknown to you, and verylittle passed, even by the Hungarians themselves, whogenerally chuse to take the conveniency of going downthe Danube. We have had the blessing of beingfavoured with finer weather than is common at thistime of the year; though the snow was so deep, we wereobliged to have our own coaches fixed upon traineaus,which move so swift and so easily, ’tis by farthe most agreeable manner of travelling post. We came to Raab (the second day from Vienna) on theseventeenth instant, where Mr W——sending word of our arrival to the governor, the besthouse in the town was provided for us, the garrisonput under arms, a guard ordered at our door, and allother honours paid to us. The governor, andall other officers immediately waited on Mr W——,to know if there was any thing to be done for hisservice. The bishop of Temeswar came to visitus, with great civility, earnestly pressing us todine with him next day; which we refusing, as beingresolved to pursue our journey, he sent us severalbaskets of winter fruit, and a great variety of Hungarianwines, with a young hind just killed. This isa prelate of great power in this country, of the ancientfamily of Nadasti, so considerable for many ages, in

this kingdom. He is a very polite, agreeable,cheerful old man, wearing the Hungarian habit, witha venerable white beard down to his girdle.—Raabis a strong town, well garrisoned and fortified, andwas a long time the frontier town between the Turkishand German empires. It has its name from theRiver Rab, on which it is situated, just on its meetingwith the Danube, in an open champaign (sic) country. It was first taken by the Turks, under the commandof bassa Sinan, in the reign of sultan Amurath III.in the year fifteen hundred and ninety-four. The governor, being supposed to have betrayed it,was afterwards beheaded by the emperor’s command. The counts of Swartzenburg; and Palsi retook it bysurprise, 1598; since which time it has remained inthe hands of the Germans, though the Turks once moreattempted to gain it by stratagem in 1642. Thecathedral is large and well built, which is all I sawremarkable in the town. Leaving Comora on theother side the river, we went the eighteenth to Nosmuhl,a small village, where however, we made shift to findtolerable accommodation. We continued two daystravelling between this place and Buda, through thefinest plains in the world, as even as if they werepaved, and extremely fruitful; but for the most partdesert and uncultivated, laid waste by the long warsbetween the Turk and the Emperor; and the more cruelcivil war, occasioned by the barbarous persecutionof the protestant religion by the emperor Leopold. That prince has left behind him the character ofan extraordinary piety, and was naturally of a mildmerciful temper; but, putting his conscience intothe hands of a Jesuit, he was more cruel and treacherousto his poor Hungarian subjects, than ever the Turkhas been to the Christians; breaking, without scruplehis coronation oath, and his faith, solemnly givenin many public treaties. Indeed, nothing canbe more melancholy than in travelling through Hungary,to reflect on the former flourishing state of thatkingdom, and to see such a noble spot of earth almostuninhabited. Such are also the present circ*mstancesof Buda (where we arrived very early the twenty-second)once the royal seat of the Hungarian kings, whosepalace was reckoned one of the most beautiful buildingsof the age, now wholly destroyed, no part of the townhaving been repaired since the last siege, but thefortifications and the castle, which is the presentresidence of the governor general Ragule, an officerof great merit. He came immediately to see us,and carried us in his coach to his house, where Iwas received by his lady with all possible civility,and magnificently entertained. This city issituated upon a little hill on the south side of theDanube. The castle is much higher than the town,and from it the prospect is very noble. Withoutthe walls ly (sic) a vast number of little houses,or rather huts, that they call the Rascian town, beingaltogether inhabited by that people. The governorassured me, it would furnish twelve thousand fightingmen. These towns look very odd; their housesstand in rows, many thousands of them so close together,that they appear, at a little distance, like old-fashionedthatched tents. They consist, every one of them,of one hovel above, and another under ground; theseare their summer and winter apartments. Budawas first taken by Solyman the Magnificent, in 1526,and lost the following year to Ferdinand I, king ofBohemia. Solyman regained it by the treacheryof the garrison, and voluntarily gave it into thehands of king John of Hungary; after whose death, hisson being an infant, Ferdinand laid siege to it, andthe queen mother was forced to call Solyman to heraid. He indeed raised the siege, but left aTurkish garrison in the town, and commanded her toremove her court from thence, which she was forcedto submit to, in 1541. It resisted afterwardsthe sieges laid to it by the marquis of Brandenburg,in the year 1542; count Schwartzenburg, in 1598; GeneralRosworm, in 1602; and the duke of Lorrain, commanderof the emperor’s forces, in 1684, to whom ityielded, in 1686, after an obstinate defence, AptiBassa, the governor, being killed, fighting in thebreach with a Roman bravery. The loss of thistown was so important, and so much resented by theTurks, that it occasioned the deposing of their emperorMahomet IV. the year following.

WE did not proceed on our journey till the twenty-third,when we passed through Adam and Todowar, both considerabletowns, when in the hands of the Turks, but now quiteruined. The remains, however, of some Turkishtowns, shew something of what they have been. This part of the country is very much overgrown withwood, and little frequented. ’Tis incrediblewhat vast numbers of wild-fowl we saw, which oftenlive here to a good old age,—and undisturb’dby guns, in quiet sleep.—We came thefive and twentieth, to Mohatch, and were shewed thefield near it, where Lewis, the young king of Hungarylost his army and his life, being drowned in a ditch,trying to fly from Balybeus, general of Solyman theMagnificent. This battle opened the first passagefor the Turks into the heart of Hungary.—Idon’t name to you the little villages, of whichI can say nothing remarkable; but I’ll assureyou, I have always found a warm stove, and great plenty,particularly of wild boar, venison, and all kindsof gibier. The few people that inhabitHungary, live easily enough; they have no money, butthe woods and plains afford them provision in greatabundance; they were ordered to give us all thingsnecessary, even what horses we pleased to demand, gratis;but Mr W——y would not oppress thepoor country people, by making use of this order,and always paid them to the full worth of what we had.They were so surprised at this unexpected generosity,which they are very little used to, that they alwayspressed upon us, at parting, a dozen of fat pheasants,

or something of that sort, for a present. Theirdress is very primitive, being only a plain sheep’sskin, 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 all our equipage and carriages. We meton the other side general Veterani, who invited us,with great civility, to pass the night at a littlecastle of his, a few miles off, assuring us we shouldhave a very hard day’s journey to reach Essek. This we found but too true, the woods being verydangerous, and scarce passable, from the vast quantityof wolves that hoard in them. We came, however,safe, though late to Essek, where we stayed a day,to dispatch a courier with letters to the bassa ofBelgrade; and I took that opportunity of seeing thetown, which is not very large, but fair built, andwell fortified. This was a town of great trade,very rich and populous, when in the hands of the Turks. It is situated on the Drave, which runs into theDanube. The bridge was esteemed one of the mostextraordinary in the world, being eight thousand paceslong, and all built of oak. It was burnt, andthe city laid in ashes by count Lesly, 1685, but wasagain repaired and fortified by the Turks, who, however,abandoned it in 1687. General Dunnewalt thentook possession of it for the emperor, in whose handsit has remained ever since, and is esteemed one ofthe bulwarks of Hungary. The twenty-eighth,we went to Bocorwar, a very large Rascian town, allbuilt after the manner I have described to you. We were met there by colonel ——,who would not suffer us to go any where but to hisquarters, where I found his wife, a very agreeableHungarian lady, and his niece and daughter, two prettyyoung women, crowded into three or four Rascian houses,cast into one, and made as neat and convenient asthose places are capable of being made. The Hungarianladies are much handsomer than those of Austria. All the Vienna beauties are of that country; theyare generally very fair and well-shaped, and theirdress, I think, is extremely becoming. Thislady was in a gown of scarlet velvet, lined and facedwith sables, made exact to her shape, and the skirtfalling to her feet. The sleeves are straitto their arms, and the stays buttoned before, withtwo rows of little buttons of gold, pearl, or diamonds. On their heads they wear a tassel of gold, that hangslow on one side, lined with sable, or some other finefur.—–They gave us a handsome dinner,and I thought the conversation very polite and agreeable. They would accompany us part of our way. Thetwenty-ninth, we arrived here, where we were met bythe commanding officer, at the head of all the officersof the garrison. We are lodged in the best apartmentof the governor’s house, and entertained ina very splendid manner by the emperor’s order. We wait here till all points are adjusted, concerningour reception on the Turkish frontiers. Mr W——’scourier, which he sent from Essek, returned this morning,with the bassa’s answer in a purse of scarletsatin, which the interpreter here has translated. ’Tis to promise him to be honourably received.I desired him to appoint where he would be met by theTurkish convoy.—He has dispatched the courierback, naming Betsko, a village in the midway betweenPeterwaradin and Belgrade. We shall stay heretill we receive his answer.—Thus, dear sister,I have given you a very particular, and (I am afraidyou’ll think) a tedious account of this partof my travels. It was not an affectation of shewingmy reading that has made me tell you some little scrapsof the history of the towns I have passed through;I have always avoided any thing of that kind, whenI spoke Of places that I believe you knew the storyof as well as myself. But Hungary being a partof the world, which I believe quite new to you, Ithought you might read with some pleasure an accountof it, which I have been very solicitous to get fromthe best hands. However, if you don’t likeit, ’tis in your power to forbear reading it. I am, dear sister, &c.

I AM promised to have this letter carefully sent toVienna.

LET. XXIV.

TO MR POPE.

Belgrade, Feb. 12. O. S. 1717.

I DID verily intend to write you a long letter fromPeterwaradin, where I expected to stay three or fourdays; but the bassa here was in such haste to seeus, that he dispatched the courier back (which MrW—— had sent to know the time hewould send the convoy to meet us) without sufferinghim to pull off his boots. My letters were notthought important enough to stop our journey; and weleft Peterwaradin the next day, being waited on bythe chief officers of the garrison, and a considerableconvoy of Germans and Rascians. The emperorhas several regiments of these people; but, to saythe truth, they are rather plunderers than soldiers;having no pay, and being obliged to furnish theirown arms and horses; they rather look like vagabondgypsies, or stout beggars, than regular troops. I cannot forbear speaking a word of this race ofcreatures, who are very numerous all over Hungary. They have a patriarch of their own at Grand Cairo,and are really of the Greek church; but their extremeignorance gives their priests occasion to impose severalnew notions upon them. These fellows, lettingtheir hair and beard grow inviolate, make exactlythe figure of the Indian bramins (sic). Theyare heirs-general to all the money of the laity; forwhich, in return, they give them formal passportssigned and sealed for heaven; and the wives and childrenonly inherit the house and cattle. In most otherpoints they follow the Greek church.—Thislittle digression has interrupted my telling you wepassed over the fields of Carlowitz, where the last

great victory was obtained by prince Eugene over theTurks. The marks of that glorious bloody dayare yet recent, the field being yet strewed with theskulls and carcasses of unburied men, horses, andcamels. I could not look, without horror, onsuch numbers of mangled human bodies, nor without reflectingon the injustice of war, that makes murder not onlynecessary but meritorious. Nothing seems tobe a plainer proof of the irrationality ofmankind (whatever fine claims we pretend to reason)than the rage with which they contest for a small spotof ground, when such vast parts of fruitful earthlie quite uninhabited. ’Tis true, customhas now made it unavoidable; but can there be a greaterdemonstration of want of reason, than a custom beingfirmly established, so plainly contrary to the interestof man in general? I am a good deal inclinedto believe Mr Hobbs, that the state of natureis a state of war; but thence I conclude humannature, not rational, if the word reason means commonsense, as I suppose it does. I have a greatmany admirable arguments to support this refection;I won’t however trouble you with them, but return,in a plain style, to the history of my travels.

WE were met at Betsko (a village in the midway betweenBelgrade and Peterwaradin) by an aga of the janizaries,with a body of Turks, exceeding the Germans by onehundred men, though the bassa had engaged to sendexactly the same number. You may judge by thisof their fears. I am really persuaded, thatthey hardly thought the odds of one hundred men setthem even with the Germans; however, I was very uneasytill they were parted, fearing some quarrel mightarise, notwithstanding the parole given. We camelate to Belgrade, the deep snows making the ascentto it very difficult. It seems a strong city,fortified on the east side by the Danube; and on thesouth by the river Save, and was formerly the barrierof Hungary. It was first taken by Solyman theMagnificent, and since by the emperor’s forces,led by the elector of Bavaria. The emperor heldit only two Years, it being retaken by the grand vizier. It is now fortified with the utmost care and skillthe Turks are capable of, and strengthened by a verynumerous garrison of their bravest janizaries, commandedby a bassa seraskier (i.e. general) though this lastexpression is not very just; for, to say truth, theseraskier is commanded by the janizaries. Thesetroops have an absolute authority here, and theirconduct carries much more the aspect of rebellion,than the appearance of subordination. You mayjudge of this by the following story, which, at thesame time, will give you an idea of the admirableintelligence of the governor of Peterwaradin, thoughso few hours distant. We were told by him atPeterwaradin, that the garrison and inhabitants ofBelgrade were so weary of the war, they had killedtheir bassa about two months ago, in a mutiny, becausehe had suffered himself to be prevailed upon, by a

bribe of five purses (five hundred pounds sterling)to give permission to the Tartars to ravage the Germanfrontiers. We were very well pleased to hearof such favourable dispositions in the people; butwhen we came hither, we found the governor had beenill-informed, and the real truth of the story to bethis. The late bassa fell under the displeasureof his soldiers; for no other reason, but restrainingtheir incursions on the Germans. They took itinto their heads, from that mildness, that he hadintelligence with the enemy, and sent such informationto the grand signior at Adrianople; but, redress notcoming quick enough from thence, they assembled themselvesin a tumultuous manner, and by force dragged theirbassa before the cadi and mufti, and there demandedjustice in a mutinous way; one crying out, Why he protectedthe infidels? Another, Why he squeezed them oftheir money? The bassa easily guessing theirpurpose, calmly replied to them, that they asked himtoo many questions, and that he had but one life,which must answer for all. They then immediatelyfell upon him with their scimitars (without waitingthe sentence of their heads of the law) and in a fewmoments cut him in pieces. The present bassahas not dared to punish the murder; on the contrary,he affected to applaud the actors of it, as bravefellows, that knew to do themselves justice. He takes all pretences of throwing money among thegarrison, and suffers them to make little excursionsinto Hungary, where they burn some poor Rascian houses.

You may imagine, I cannot be very easy in a town whichis really under the government of an insolent soldiery.—Weexpected to be immediately dismissed, after a night’slodging here, but the bassa detains us till he receivesorders from Adrianople, which may, possibly be a montha-coming. In the mean time, we are lodged inone of the best houses, belonging to a very considerableman amongst them, and have a whole chamber of janizariesto guard us. My only diversion is the conversationof our host, Achmet Beg, a title something like thatof count in Germany. His father was a greatbassa, and he has been educated in the most politeeastern learning, being perfectly skilled in the Arabicand Persian languages, and an extraordinary scribe,which they call effendi. This accomplishmentmakes way to the greatest preferments; but he has hadthe good sense to prefer an easy, quiet, secure life,to all the dangerous honours of the Porte. Hesups with us every night, and drinks wine very freely. You cannot imagine how much he is delighted with theliberty of conversing with me. He has explainedto me many pieces of Arabian poetry, which, I observe,are in numbers not unlike ours, generally of an alternateverse, and of a very musical sound. Their expressionsof love are very passionate and lively. I amso much pleased with them, I really believe I shouldlearn to read Arabic, if I was to stay here a few

months. He has a very good library of theirbooks of all kinds; and, as he tells me, spends thegreatest part of his life there. I pass fora great scholar with him, by relating to him someof the Persian tales, which I find are genuine. At first he believed I understood Persian. I have frequent disputes with him concerning the differenceof our customs, particularly the confinement of women. He assures me, there is nothing at all in it; only,says he, we have the advantage, that when our wivescheat us, nobody knows it. He has wit, and ismore polite than many Christian men of quality. I am very much entertained with him.—Hehas had the curiosity to make one of our servantsset him an alphabet of our letters, and can alreadywrite a good Roman hand. But these amusem*ntsdo not hinder my wishing heartily to be out of thisplace; though the weather is colder than I believeit ever was, any where, but in Greenland.—Wehave a very large stove constantly kept hot, and yetthe windows of the room are frozen on the inside.—Godknows when I may have an opportunity of sending thisletter: but I have written it, for the dischargeof my own conscience and you cannot now reproach me,that one of yours makes ten of mine. Adieu.

LET. XXV.

To HER R. H. THE PRINCESS OF WALES
[Footnote: The late Queen Caroline.]

Adrianople, April 1. O. S. 1717.

I HAVE now, madam, finished a journey that has notbeen undertaken by any Christian since the time ofthe Greek emperors: and I shall not regret allthe fatigues I have suffered in it, if it gives mean opportunity of amusing your R. H. by an accountof places utterly unknown amongst us; the emperor’sambassadors, and those few English that have comehither, always going on the Danube to Nicopolis. But the river was now frozen, and Mr W——was so zealous for the service of his Majesty, thathe would not defer his journey to wait for the conveniencyof that passage. We crossed the deserts of Servia(sic), almost quite over-grown with wood, througha country naturally fertile. The inhabitantsare industrious; but the oppression of the peasantsis so great, they are forced to abandon their houses,and neglect their tillage, all they have being a preyto the janizaries, whenever they please to seize uponit. We had a guard of five hundred of them,and I was almost in tears every day, to see theirinsolencies (sic) in the poor villages through whichwe passed.—After seven days travellingthrough thick woods, we came to Nissa, once the capitalof Servia, situated in a fine plain on the river Nissava,in a very good air, and so fruitful a soil, that thegreat plenty is hardly credible. I was certainlyassured, that the quantity of wine last vintage wasso prodigious, that they were forced to dig holesin the earth to put it in, not having vessels enoughin the town to hold it. The happiness of thisplenty is scarce perceived by the oppressed people.

LET. XXVIII

To THE COUNTESS or B——.

Adrianople, April 1. O. S. 1717.

AS I never can forget the smallest of your ladyship’scommands, my first business here has been to enquireafter the stuffs you ordered me to look for, withoutbeing able to find what you would like. Thedifference of the dress here and at London is so great,the same sort of things are not proper for caftansand manteaus. However, I will not giveover my search, but renew it again at Constantinople,though I have reason to believe there is nothing finerthan what is to be found here, as this place is atpresent the residence of the court. The grandsignior’s eldest daughter was married some fewdays before I came hither; and, upon that occasion,the Turkish ladies display all their magnificence. The bride was conducted to her husband’s housein very great splendor (sic). She is widow ofthe late vizier, who was killed at Peterwaradin, thoughthat ought rather to be called a contract than a marriage,since she never has lived with him; however, the greatestpart of his wealth is hers. He had the permissionof visiting her in the seraglio; and, being one ofthe handsomest men in the empire, had very much engagedher affections.—When she saw this secondhusband, who is at least fifty, she could not forbearbursting into tears. He is indeed a man of merit,and the declared favourite of the sultan, (which theycall _ mosayp_) but that is not enough to make himpleasing in the eyes of a girl of thirteen.

THE government here is entirely in the hands of thearmy, the grand signior, with all his absolute power,is as much a slave as any of his subjects, and tremblesat a janizary’s frown. Here is, indeed,a much greater appearance of subjection than amongstus; a minister of state is not spoke to, but uponthe knee: should a reflection on his conductbe dropt (sic) in a coffee-house (for they have spiesevery where) the house would be raz’d (sic)to the ground, and perhaps the whole company put tothe torture. No huzzaing mobs, senselesspamphlets, and tavern disputes about politics;

A consequential ill thatfreedom draws;
A bad effect,—but from anoble cause.

None of our harmless calling names! but when a ministerhere displeases the people, in three hours time heis dragged even from his master’s arms. They cut off hands, head, and feet, and throw thembefore the palace gate, with all the respect in theworld; while the sultan (to whom they all professan unlimited adoration) sits trembling in his apartment,and dare neither defend nor revenge his favourite. This is the blessed condition of the most absolutemonarch upon earth, who o—— no l——but his will. [Editor’s note: Twowords are unreadable due to damage to the book whichmay have occurred at the time of printing. Itseems probable that the sentence should end “..who owns no limit but his will.".]

I CANNOT help wishing, in the loyality (sic) of myheart, that the parliament would send hither a ship-loadof young passive obedient men, that they might seearbitrary government in its clearest, and strongestlight, where ’tis hard to judge, whether theprince, people, or ministers, are most miserable. I could make many reflections on this subject; butI know, madam, your own good sense has already furnishedyou with better than I am capable of.

I WENT yesterday along with the French ambassadressto see the grand signior in his passage to the mosque. He was preceded by a numerous guard of janizaries,with vast white feathers on their heads, as also bythe spahis and bostangees, (these arefoot and horse guards) and the royal gardeners, whichare a very considerable body of men, dressed in differenthabits of fine lively colours, so that at a distance,they appeared like a parterre of tulips. Afterthem the aga of the janizaries, in a robe of purplevelvet, lined with silver tissue, his horse led bytwo slaves richly dressed. Next him the kyzlier-aga(your ladyship knows, this is the chief guardian ofthe seraglio ladies) in a deep yellow cloth (whichsuited very well to his black face) lined with sables. Last came his sublimity himself, arrayed in green,lined with the fur of a black Moscovite fox, whichis supposed worth a thousand pounds sterling, and mountedon a fine horse, with furniture embroidered with jewels. Six more horses richly caparisoned were led afterhim; and two of his principal courtiers bore, one

his gold, and the other his silver coffee-pot, ona staff; another carried a silver stool on his headfor him to sit on.—–It would be tootedious to tell your ladyship the various dressesand turbants (sic) by which their rank is distinguished;but they were all extremely rich and gay, to the numberof some thousands; so that perhaps there cannot beseen a more beautiful procession. The sultanappeared to us a handsome man of about forty, withsomething, however, severe in his countenance, andhis eyes very —— ———— [Editor’s note: asabove a few words are illegible but seem to be ’sultryand black’.] He happened to stop under thewindow where he stood, and (I suppose being told whowe were) looked upon us very attentively, so thatwe had full leisure to consider him. The Frenchambassadress agreed with me as to his good mien; Isee that lady very often; she is young, and her conversationwould be a great relief to me, if I could persuadeher to live without those forms and ceremonies thatmake life so formal and tiresome. But she isso delighted with her guards, her four and twentyfootmen, gentlemen, ushers, &c. that she would ratherdie than make me a visit without them; not to reckona coachful of attending damsels ycleap’d (sic)maids of honour. What vexes me is, that as longas she will visit me with a troublesome equipage, Iam obliged to do the same: however, our mutualinterest makes us much together. I went withher the other day all round the town, in an open giltchariot, with our joint train of attendants, precededby our guards, who might have summoned the peopleto see what they had never seen, nor ever perhapswould see again, two young Christian ambassadressesat the same time. Your ladyship may easily imagine,we drew a vast crowd of spectators, but all silentas death. If any of them had taken the libertiesof our mobs upon any strange sight, our janizarieshad made no scruple of falling on them with theirscimitars, without danger for so doing, being abovelaw. These people however (I mean the janizaries)have some good qualities; they are very zealous andfaithful where they serve, and look upon it as theirbusiness to fight for you on all occasions. Ofthis I had a very pleasant instance in a village onthis side Philippopolis, where we were met by ourdomestic guards. I happened to bespeak pigeonsfor supper, upon which one of my janizaries went immediatelyto the cadi (the chief civil officer of the town)and ordered him to send in some dozens. Thepoor man answered, that he had already sent about,but could get none. My janizary, in the heightof his zeal for my service, immediately locked himup prisoner in his room, telling him he deserved deathfor his impudence, in offering to excuse his not obeyingmy command; but, out of respect to me, he would notpunish him but by my order. Accordingly he camevery gravely to me, to ask what should be done tohim; adding, by way of compliment, that if I pleasedhe would bring me his head.—This may giveyou some idea of the unlimited power of these fellows,who are all sworn brothers, and bound to revenge theinjuries done to one another, whether at Cairo, Aleppo,or any part of the world. This inviolable leaguemakes them so powerful, that the greatest man at courtnever speaks to them but in a flattering tone; andin Asia, any man that is rich is forced to enrol himselfa janizary, to secure his estate.—But Ihave already said enough; and I dare swear, dear madam,that, by this time, ’tis a very comfortablereflection to you, that there is no possibility ofyour receiving such a tedious letter but once in sixmonths; ’tis that consideration has given methe assurance of entertaining you so long, and will,I hope, plead the excuse of, dear madam, Your’s,&c.

LET. XXIX.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Adrianople, April. 1. O. S. 1717.

I WISH to God, dear sister, that you were as regularin letting me know what passes on your side of theglobe, as I am careful in endeavouring to amuse youby the account of all I see here, that I think worthyour notice. You content yourself with tellingme over and over, that the town is very dull:it may, possibly, be dull to you, when every day doesnot present you with something new; but for me thatam in arrears, at least two months news, all that seemsvery stale with you, would be very fresh and sweethere. Pray let me into more particulars, andI will try to awaken your gratitude, by giving youa full and true relation of the novelties of this place,none of which would surprise you more than a sightof my person, as I am now in my Turkish habit, thoughI believe you would be of my opinion, that ’tisadmirably becoming.—I intend to send youmy picture; in the mean time accept of it here.

THE first part of my dress is a pair of drawers, veryfull that reach to my shoes, and conceal the legsmore modestly than your petticoats. They areof a thin rose-coloured damask, brocaded with silverflowers. My shoes are of white kid leather, embroideredwith gold. Over this hangs my smock, of a finewhite silk gauze, edged with embroidery. Thissmock has wide sleeves hanging half way down the arm,and is closed at the neck with a diamond button; butthe shape and colour of the bosom is very well tobe distinguished through it.—The anteryis a waistcoat, made close to the shape, of whiteand gold damask, with very long sleeves falling back,and fringed with deep gold fringe, and should havediamond or pearl buttons. My caftan,of the same stuff with my drawers, is a robe exactlyfitted to my shape, and reaching to my feet, withvery long strait falling sleeves. Over thisis my girdle, of about four fingers broad, which,all that can afford it, have entirely of diamonds orother precious stones; those who will not be at thatexpence, have it of exquisite embroidery on sattin(sic); but it must be fastened before with a clasp

of diamonds.—The curdee is a looserobe they throw off, or put on, according to the weather,being of a rich brocade (mine is green and gold) eitherlined with ermine or sables; the sleeves reach verylittle below the shoulders. The head dress iscomposed of a cap, called talpock, which is,in winter, of fine velvet embroidered with pearlsor diamonds, and in summer, of a light shining silverstuff. This is fixed on one side of the head,hanging a little way down with a gold tassel, andbound on, either with a circle of diamonds (as I haveseen several) or a rich embroidered handkerchief. On the other side of the head, the hair is laid flat;and here the ladies are at liberty to shew their fancies;some putting flowers, others a plume of heron’sfeathers, and, in short, what they please; but themost general fashion is a large bouquet ofjewels, made like natural flowers; that is, the buds,of pearl; the roses, of different coloured rubies:the jessamines, of diamonds; the jonquils, of topazes,&c. so well set and enamelled, ’tis hard toimagine any thing of that kind so beautiful. The hair hangs at its full length behind, dividedinto tresses braided with pearl or ribbon, which isalways in great quantity. I never saw in my lifeso many fine heads of hair. In one lady’s,I have counted a hundred and ten of the tresses, allnatural; but it must be owned, that every kind ofbeauty is more common here than with us. ’Tissurprising to see a young woman that is not very handsome. They have naturally the most beautiful complexionin the world, and generally large black eyes.I can assure you with great truth, that the court ofEngland (though I believe it the fairest in Christendom)does not contain so many beauties as are under ourprotection here. They generally shape theireye-brows, and both Greeks and Turks have the customof putting round their eyes a black tincture, that,at a distance, or by candle-light, adds very muchto the blackness of them. I fancy many of ourladies would be overjoyed to know this secret, but’tis too visible by day. They dye theirnails a rose colour; but, I own, I cannot enough accustommyself to this fashion, to find any beauty in it.

AS to their morality or good conduct, I can say, likeHarlequin, that ’tis just as ’tis withyou; and the Turkish ladies don’t commit onesin the less for not being Christians. Now, thatI am a little acquainted with their ways, I cannotforbear admiring, either the exemplary discretion,or extreme stupidity of all the writers that havegiven accounts of them. ’Tis very easyto see, they have in reality more liberty than wehave. No woman, of what rank soever, is permittedto go into the streets without two murlins,one that covers her face all but her eyes, and another,that hides the whole dress of her head, and hangshalf way down her back. Their shapes are alsowholely (sic) concealed, by a thing they call a serigee,

which no woman of any sort appears without; this hasstrait sleeves, that reach to their fingers-ends,and it laps all round them, not unlike a riding-hood. In winter, ’tis of cloth; and in summer, ofplain stuff or silk. You may guess then, howeffectually this disguises them, so that there isno distinguishing the great lady from her slave. ’Tis impossible for the most jealous husbandto know his wife, when he meets her; and no man daretouch or follow a woman in the street.

THIS perpetual masquerade gives them entire libertyof following their inclinations, without danger ofdiscovery. The most usual method of intrigue,is, to send an appointment to the lover to meet thelady at a Jew’s shop, which are as notoriouslyconvenient as our Indian-houses; and yet, even thosewho don’t make use of them, do not scruple togo to buy pennyworths, and tumble over rich goods,which are chiefly to be found amongst that sort ofpeople. The great ladies seldom let their gallantsknow who they are; and ’tis so difficult tofind it out, that they can very seldom guess at hername, whom they have corresponded with for above halfa year together. You may easily imagine thenumber of faithful wives very small in a country wherethey have nothing to fear from a lover’s indiscretion,since we see so many have the courage to expose themselvesto that in this world, and all the threatened punishmentof the next, which is never preached to the Turkishdamsels. Neither have they much to apprehendfrom the resentment of their husbands; those ladiesthat are rich, having all their money in their ownhands. Upon the whole, I look upon the Turkishwomen, as the only free people in the empire; thevery divan pays respect to them; and the grand signiorhimself, when a bassa is executed, never violatesthe privileges of the haram, (or womens apartment)which remains unsearched and entire to the widow. They are queens of their slaves, whom the husbandhas no permission so much as to look upon, except itbe an old woman or two that his lady chuses. ’Tis true, their law permits them four wives;but there is no instance of a man of quality thatmakes use of this liberty, or of a woman of rank thatwould suffer it. When a husband happens to beinconstant, (as those things will happen) he keepshis mistress in a house apart, and visits her as privatelyas he can, just as it is with you. Amongst allthe great men here, I only know the testerdar,(i.e. a treasurer) that keeps a number of she slaves,for his own use, (that is, on his own side of thehouse; for a slave once given to serve a lady, isentirely at her disposal) and he is spoke of as a libertine,or what we should call a rake, and his wife won’tsee him, though she continues to live in his house. Thus you see, dear sister, the manners of mankinddo not differ so Widely, as our voyage-writers wouldmake us believe. Perhaps, it would be more entertainingto add a few surprising customs of my own invention;but nothing seems to me so agreeable as truth, andI believe nothing so acceptable to you. I concludetherefore with repeating the great truth of my being,
Dearsister, &c.

LET. XXX.

TO MR POPE.

Adrianople, April 1. O. S. 1717.

I DARE say you expect, at least, something very newin this letter, after I have gone a journey, not undertakenby any Christian for some hundred years. Themost remarkable accident that happened to me, wasmy being very near overturned into the Hebrus; and,if I had much regard for the glories that one’sname enjoys after death, I should certainly be sorryfor having missed the romantic conclusion of swimmingdown the same river in which the musical head of Orpheusrepeated verses so many ages since:

“Caputa cervice revulsum,
“Gurgite cum medio, portans OeagriusHebrus,
“Volveret, Eurydicen vox ipsa, et frigidalingua,
“Ah! miseram Eurydicen! anima fugientevocabat,
“Eurydicen toto referebant flumineripae
”

Who knows but some of your bright wits might havefound it a subject affording many poetical turns,and have told the world, in an heroic elegy, that,

As equal were our souls,so equal were our fates?

I despair of ever hearing so many fine things saidof me, as so extraordinary a death would have givenoccasion for.

I AM at this present moment writing in a house situatedon the banks of the Hebrus, which runs under my chamberwindow. My garden is full of all cypress trees,upon the branches of which several couple of trueturtles are saying soft things to one another frommorning till night. How naturally do boughsand vows come into my mind, at this minute?and must not you confess, to my praise, that ’tismore than an ordinary discretion that can resist thewicked suggestions of poetry, in a place where truth,for once, furnishes all the ideas of pastoral. The summer is already far advanced in this part ofthe world; and, for some miles round Adrianople, thewhole ground is laid out in gardens, and the banksof the rivers are set with rows of fruit-trees, underwhich all the most considerable Turks divert themselvesevery evening, not with walking, that is not one oftheir pleasures; but a set party of them chuse outa green spot, where the shade is very thick, and,there they spread a carpet, on which they sit drinkingtheir coffee, and are generally attended by some slavewith a fine voice, or that plays on some instrument. Every twenty paces you may see one of these littlecompanies listening to the dashing of the river; andthis taste is so universal, that the very gardenersare not without it. I have often seen them andtheir children sitting on the banks of the river,and playing on a rural instrument, perfectly answeringthe description of the ancient fistula, beingcomposed of unequal reeds, with a simple, but agreeablesoftness in the sound.

MR ADDISON might here make the experiment he speaksof in his travels; there not being one instrumentOf music among the Greek or Roman statues, that isnot to be found in the hands of the people of thiscountry. The young lads generally divert themselveswith making garlands for their favourite lambs, whichI have often seen painted and adorned with flowers,lying at their feet, while they sung or played. It is not that they ever read romances, but theseare the ancient amusem*nts here, and as natural tothem as cudgel-playing and foot-ball to our Britishswains; the softness and warmth of the climate forbiddingall rough exercises, which were never so much as heardof amongst them, and naturally inspiring a lazinessand aversion to labour, which the great plenty indulges. These gardeners are the only happy race of countrypeople in Turkey. They furnish all the citywith fruits and herbs, and seem to live very easily.They are most of them Greeks, and have little housesin the midst of their gardens, where their wives anddaughters take a liberty, not permitted in the town,I mean, to go unveiled. These wenches are veryneat and handsome, and pass their time at their looms,under the shade of the trees.

I No longer look upon Theocritus as a romantic writer;he has only given a plain image of the way of lifeamongst the peasants of his country; who, before oppressionhad reduced them to want, were, I suppose, all employedas the better sort of them are now. I don’tdoubt, had he been born a Briton, but his Idyliums had been filled with descriptions of threshing andchurning, both which are unknown here, the corn beingall trode (sic) out by oxen; and butter (I speak itwith sorrow) unheard of.

I READ over your Homer here, with an infinite pleasure,and find several little passages explained, that Idid not before entirely comprehend the beauty of;many of the customs, and much Of the dress then infashion, being yet retained. I don’t wonderto find more remains here, of an age so distant, thanis to be found in any other country, the Turks nottaking that pains to introduce their own manners,as has been generally practised by other nations, thatimagine themselves more polite. It would be tootedious to you, to point out all the passages thatrelate to present customs. But, I can assureyou, that the princesses and great ladies pass theirtime at their looms, embroidering veils and robes,surrounded by their maids, which are always very numerous,in the same manner as we find Andromache and Helendescribed. The description of the belt of Menelaus,exactly resembles those that are now worn by the greatmen, fastened before with broad golden clasps, andembroidered round with rich work. The snowyveil that Helen throws over her face, is still fashionable;and I never see half a dozen of old bashaws (as I dovery often) with their reverend beards, sitting baskingin the sun, but I recollect good king Priam and his

counsellors. Their manner of dancing is certainlythe same that Diana is sung (sic) to havedanced on the banks of Eurotas. The great ladystill leads the dance, and is followed by a troopof young girls, who imitate her steps, and, if shesings, make up the chorus. The tunes are extremelygay and lively, yet with something in them wonderfullysoft. The steps are varied according to the pleasureof her that 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 onein the train, but am not skilful enough to lead; theseare the Grecian dances, the Turkish being very different.

I SHOULD have told you, in the first place, that theEastern manners give a great light into many scripture-passages,that appear odd to us, their phrases being commonlywhat we should call scripture-language. Thevulgar Turk is very different from what is spoke atcourt, or amongst the people of figure; who alwaysmix so much Arabic and Persian in their discourse,that it may very well be called another language. And ’tis as ridiculous to make use of the expressionscommonly used, in speaking to a great man or lady,as it would be to speak broad Yorkshire, or Somersetshire,in the drawing room. Besides this distinction,they have what they call the sublime, thatis, a style proper for poetry, and which is the exactscripture style. I believe you will be pleasedto see a genuine example of this; and I am very gladI have it in my power to satisfy your curiosity, bysending you a faithful copy of the verses that IbrahimBassa, the reigning favourite, has made for the youngprincess, his contracted wife, whom he is not yet permittedto visit without witnesses, though she is gone hometo his house. He is a man of wit and learning;and whether or no he is capable of writing good verse,you may be sure, that, on such an occasion, he wouldnot want the assistance of the best poets in the empire. Thus the verses may be looked upon as a sample oftheir finest poetry; and I don’t doubt you’llbe of my mind, that it is most wonderfully resemblingThe song of Solomon, which was also addressedto a royal bride.

TURKISH VERSES addressed to the Sultana, eldestdaughter of SULTAN ACHMET III.

STANZA I.

Ver.

1. THE nightingale now wanders in the vines:
Her passion is to seek roses.

2. I went down to admire the beauty of the vines:
The sweetness of your charmshas ravished my soul.

3. Your eyes are black and lovely,
But wild and disdainful asthose of a stag.

STANZA II.

1. The wished possession is delayed from day today;
The cruel Sultan ACHMET willnot permit me
To see those cheeks, morevermilion than roses.

2. I dare not snatch one of your kisses;
The sweetness of your charmshas ravished my soul.

3. Your eyes are black and lovely,
But wild and disdainful asthose of a stag.

STANZA III

1. The wretched IBRAHIM sighs in these verses:
One dart from your eyes haspierc’d thro’ my heart.

2. Ah! when will the hour of possession arrive?
Must I yet wait a long time?
The sweetness of your charmshas ravished my soul.

3. Ah! SULTANA! stag-ey’d—anangel amongst angels!
I desire,—and,my desire remains unsatisfied.—Can
you take delight to prey uponmy heart?

STANZA IV

1. My cries pierce the heavens!
My eyes are without sleep!
Turn to me, SULTANA—letme gaze on thy beauty.

2. Adieu—I go down to the grave.
If you call me—Ireturn.
My heart is—hotas sulphur;—sigh, and it will flame.

3. Crown of my life! fair light of my eyes!
My SULTANA! my princess!
I rub my face against theearth; I am drown’d in scalding tears—
I rave!
Have you no compassion? Will you not turn to look upon me?

I have taken abundance of pains to get these versesin a literal translation; and if you were acquaintedwith my interpreters, I might spare myself the troubleof assuring you, that they have received no poeticaltouches from their hands. In my opinion (allowingfor the inevitable faults of a prose translation intoa language so very different) there is a good dealof beauty in them. The epithet of stag-ey’d(though the sound is not very agreeable in English)pleases me extremely; and I think it a very livelyimage of the fire and indifference in his mistress’seyes.—Monsieur Boileau has very justlyobserved, that we are never to judge of the elevationof an expression in an ancient author, by the soundit carries with us; since it may be extremely finewith them, when, at the same time, it appears lowor uncouth to us. You are so well acquaintedwith Homer, you cannot but have observed the samething, and you must have the same indulgence for allOriental poetry. The repetitions at the endof the two first stanzas are meant for a sort of chorus,and are agreeable to the ancient manner of writing. The music of the verses apparently changes in thethird stanza, where the burden is altered; and I thinkhe very artfully, seems more passionate at the conclusion,as ’tis natural for people to warm themselvesby their own discourse, especially on a subject inwhich one is deeply concerned; ’tis certainlyfar more touching than our modern custom of concludinga song of passion with a turn which is inconsistentwith it. The first verse is a description ofthe season of the year; all the country now beingfull of nightingales, whole amours with roses, isan Arabian fable, as well known here as any part ofOvid amongst us, and is much the same as if an Englishpoem should begin, by saying,—“NowPhilomela sings.” Or what if I turnedthe whole into the style of English poetry, to seehow it would look?

STANZA I.

“NOW Philomel renewsher tender strain,
“Indulging all the night her pleasingpain;

“I sought in grovesto hear the wanton sing,
“There saw a face more beauteous thanthe spring.

“Your large stag-eyes,where thousand glories play,
“As bright, as lively, but as wildas they.

STANZA II.

“In vain I’m promis’dsuch a heav’nly prize,
“Ah! cruel SULTAN! who delay’stmy joys!
“While piercing charms transfix myam’rous heart,
“I dare not snatch one kiss to easethe smart.

“Those eyes! like, &c.

STANZA III.

“Your wretched loverin these lines complains;
“From those dear beauties rise hiskilling pains.

“When will the hourof wish’d-for bliss arrive?
“Must I wait longer?—CanI wait and live?

“Ah! bright Sultana!maid divinely fair!
“Can you, unpitying, see the painsI bear?

STANZA IV.

“The heavens relenting,hear my piercing cries,
“I loathe the light, and sleep forsakesmy eyes;
“Turn thee, Sultana, ere thy loverdies:

“Sinking to earth, Ifight the last adieu,
“Call me, my goddess, and my life renew.

“My queen! my angel!my fond heart’s desire!
“I rave—my bosom burns withheav’nly fire!
“Pity that passion, which thy charmsinspire.”

I have taken the liberty, in the second verse, offollowing what I suppose the true sense of the author,though not literally expressed. By his saying,He went down to admire the beauty of the vines,and her charms ravished his soul, I understanda poetical fiction, of having first seen her in agarden, where he was admiring the beauty of the spring. But I could not forbear retaining the comparison ofher eyes with those of a stag, though perhaps the noveltyof it may give it a burlesque sound in our language. I cannot determine upon the whole, how well I havesucceeded in the translation, neither do I think ourEnglish proper to express such violence of passion,which is very seldom felt amongst us. We wantalso those compound words which are very frequentand strong in the Turkish language.

YOU see I am pretty far gone in Oriental learning;and, to say truth, I study very hard. I wishmy studies may give me an occasion of entertainingyour curiosity, which will be the utmost advantagehoped for from them, by, Your’s, &c.

LET. XXXI.

TO MRS S. C.

Adrianople, April 1. O. S.

IN my opinion, dear S. I ought rather to quarrel withyou, for not answering my Nimeguen letter of August,till December, than to excuse my not writing againtill now. I am sure there is on my side a verygood excuse for silence, having gone such tiresomeland-journies (sic), though I don’t find theconclusion of them so bad as you seem to imagine. I am very easy here, and not in the solitude you fancyme. The great number of Greeks, French, English,and Italians that are under our protection, make theircourt to me from morning till night; and, I’llassure you, are, many of them, very fine ladies; forthere is no possibility for a Christian to live easilyunder this government, but by the protection of anambassador—and the richer they are, thegreater 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 ofa word, which has always given me such terrible ideas;though I am convinced there is little more in it,than in a fever. As a proof of this, let me tellyou that we passed through two or three towns mostviolently infected. In the very next house wherewe lay, (in one of those places) two persons died ofit. Luckily for me I was so well deceived, thatI 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 take care of him, andyesterday they both arrived here in good health; andI am now let into the secret, that he has had theplague. There are many that escape it,neither is the air ever infected. I am persuaded,that it would be as easy a matter to root it out here,as out of Italy and France; but it does so littlemischief, they are not very solicitous about it, andare content to suffer this distemper, instead of ourvariety, which they are utterly unacquainted with.

A propos of distempers, I am going to tellyou a thing that will make you wish yourself here. The small-pox, so fatal, and so general amongst us,is here entirely harmless, by the invention of ingrafting,which is the term they give it. There is a setof old women, who make it their business to performthe operation, every autumn, in the month of September,when the great heat is abated. People send toone another to know if any of their family has a mindto have the small-pox: they make parties for thispurpose, and when they are met (commonly fifteen orsixteen together) the old woman comes with a nutshellfull of the matter of the best sort of small-pox,and asks what vein you please to have opened. She immediately rips open that you offer to her,with a large needle, (which gives you no more painthan a common scratch) and puts into the vein as muchmatter as can ly upon the head of her needle, andafter that, binds up the little wound with a hollowbit of shell; and in this manner opens four or fiveveins. The Grecians have commonly the superstitionof opening one in the middle of the forehead, one ineach arm, and one on the breast, to mark the sign ofthe cross; but this has a very ill effect, all thesewounds leaving little scars, and is not done by thosethat are not superstitious, who chuse to have themin the legs, or that part of the arm that is concealed.The children or young patients play together all therest of the day, and are in perfect health to theeighth. Then the fever begins to seize them,and they keep their beds two days, very seldom three.They have very rarely above twenty or thirty in theirfaces, which never mark; and in eight days time theyare as well as before their illness. Where theyare wounded, there remain running sores during thedistemper, which I don’t doubt is a great relief

to it. Every year thousands undergo this operation;and the French ambassador says pleasantly, that theytake the small-pox here by way of diversion, as theytake the waters in other countries. There isno example of any one that has died in it; and youmay believe I am well satisfied of the safety of thisexperiment, since I intend to try it on my dear littleson. I am patriot enough to take pains to bringthis useful invention into fashion in England; andI should not fail to write to some of our doctorsvery particularly about it, if I knew any one of themthat I thought had virtue enough to destroy such aconsiderable branch of their revenue, for the goodof mankind. But that distemper is too beneficialto them, not to expose to all their resentment thehardy wight (sic) that should undertake to put an endto it. Perhaps, if I live to return, I may, however,have courage to war with them. Upon this occasion,admire the heroism in the heart of
Yourfriend, &c. &c.

LET. XXXII.

TO MRS T——.

Adrianople, April 1. O. S. 1718 (sic).

I CAN now tell dear Mrs T——, thatI am safely arrived at the end of my very long journey. I will not tire you with the account of the manyfatigues I have suffered. You would rather beinformed of the strange things that are to be seenhere; and a letter out of Turkey, that has nothingextraordinary in it, would be as great a disappointment,as my visitors will receive at London, if I returnthither without any rarities to shew them.—Whatshall I tell you of?—You never saw camelsin your life; and perhaps the description of themwill appear new to you; I can assure you the firstsight of them was so to me; and though I have seenhundreds of pictures of those animals, I never sawany that was resembling enough, to give a true ideaof them. I am going to make a bold observation,and possibly a false one, because nobody has evermade it before me; but I do take them to be of thestag kind; their legs, bodies, and necks, are exactlyshaped like them, and their colour very near the same.’Tis true they are much larger, being a greatdeal higher than a horse; and so swift, that, afterthe defeat of Peterwaradin, they far outran the swiftesthorses, and brought the first news of the loss ofthe battle to Belgrade. They are never thoroughlytamed; the drivers take care to tie them one to another,with strong ropes, fifty in a string, led by an ass,on which the driver rides. I have seen threehundred in one caravan. They carry the thirdpart more than any horse; but ’tis a particularart to load them, because of the bunch on their backs. They seem to be very ugly creatures, their headsbeing ill-formed and disproportioned (sic) to theirbodies. They carry all the burdens; and thebeasts destined to the plough, are buffaloes, an animalyou are also unacquainted with. They are largerand 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 ’tiswell polished. They are all black, with veryshort hair on their hides, and have extremely littlewhite eyes, that make them look like devils. The country people dye their tails, and the hairof their forehead, red, by way of ornament. Horsesare not put here to any laborious work, nor are theyat all fit for it. They are beautiful and fullof spirit, but generally little, and not strong, asthe breed of colder countries; very gentle, however,with all their vivacity, and also swift and surefooted. I have a little white favourite, that I would notpart with on any terms; he prances under me with somuch fire, you would think that I had a great dealof courage to dare to mount him; yet I’ll assureyou, I never rid a horse so much at my command in mylife. My side-saddle is the first that was everseen in this part of the world, and is gazed at withas much wonder as the ship of Columbus in the firstdiscovery of America. Here are some little birds,held in a sort of religious reverence, and, for thatreason, multiply prodigiously: turtles, on theaccount of their innocence; and storks, because theyare supposed to make every winter the pilgrimage toMecca. To say truth, they are the happiest subjectsunder the Turkish government, and are so sensible oftheir privileges, that they walk the streets withoutfear, and generally build in the low parts of houses. Happy are those whose houses are so distinguished,as the vulgar Turks are perfectly persuaded that theywill not be, that year, attacked either by fire orpestilence. I have the happiness of one of theirsacred nests under my chamber-window.

NOW I am talking of my chamber, I remember the descriptionof the houses here will be as new to you, as any ofthe birds or beasts. I suppose you have read,in most of our accounts of Turkey, that their housesare the most miserable pieces of building in the world. I can speak very learnedly on that subject, havingbeen in so many of them; and, I assure you, ’tisno such thing. We are now lodged in a palacebelonging to the grand signior. I really thinkthe manner of building here very agreeable, and properfor the country. ’Tis true, they are notat all solicitous to beautify the outsides of theirhouses, and they are generally built of wood; which,I own, is the cause of many inconveniencies; but thisis not to be charged on the ill taste of the people,but on the oppression of the government. Everyhouse, at the death of its master, is at the grandsignior’s disposal; and therefore, no man caresto make a great expence, which he is not sure hisfamily will be the better for. All their designis to build a house commodious, and that will lasttheir lives; and they are very indifferent if it fallsdown the year after. Every house, great andsmall, is divided into two distinct parts, which onlyjoin together by a narrow passage. The first

house has a large court before it, and open galleriesall round it, which is to me a thing very agreeable. This gallery leads to all the chambers, which arecommonly large, and with two rows of windows, the firstbeing of painted glass; they seldom build above twostories, each of which has galleries. The stairsare broad, and not often above thirty steps.This is the house belonging to the lord, and the adjoiningone is called the haram, that is, the ladiesapartment, (for the name of seraglio is peculiarto the grand signior;) it has also a gallery runninground it towards the garden, to which all the windowsare turned, and the same number of chambers as theother, but more gay and splendid, both in paintingand furniture. The second row of windows isvery low, with grates like those of convents; the roomsare all spread with Persian carpets, and raised atone end of them (my chambers are raised at both ends)about two feet. This is the sofa, which is laidwith a richer sort of carpet, and all round it a sortof couch, raised half a foot, covered with rich silk,according to the fancy or magnificence of the owner. Mine is of scarlet cloth, with a gold fringe; roundabout this are placed, standing against the wall,two rows of cushions, the first very large, and thenext, little ones; and here the Turks display theirgreatest magnificence. They are generally brocade,or embroidery of gold wire upon white sattin.—Nothingcan look more gay and splendid. These seats arealso so convenient and easy, that I believe I shallnever endure chairs as long as I live.—Therooms are low, which I think no fault, and the ceilingis always of wood, generally inlaid or painted withflowers. They open in many places, with foldingdoors, and serve for cabinets, I think, more convenientlythan ours. Between the windows are little archesto set pots of perfume, or baskets of flowers. But what pleases me best, is the fashion of havingmarble fountains in the lower part of the room, whichthrow up several spouts of water, giving, at the sametime, an agreeable coolness, and a pleasant dashingsound, falling from one basin to another. Someof these are very magnificent. Each house hasa bagnio, which consists generally in two or threelittle rooms, leaded on the top, paved with marble,with basins, co*cks of water, and all convenienciesfor either hot or cold baths.

YOU will perhaps be surprised at an account so differentfrom what you have been entertained with by the commonvoyage-writers, who are very fond of speaking of whatthey don’t know. It must be under a veryparticular character, or on some extraordinary occasion,that a Christian is admitted into the house of a manof quality; and their harams are always forbiddenground. Thus they can only speak of the outside,which makes no great appearance; and the womens apartmentsare always built backward, removed from sight, andhave no other prospect than the gardens, which are

inclosed with very high walls. There are noneof our parterres in them; but they are planted withhigh trees, which give an agreeable shade, and, tomy fancy, a pleasing view. In the midst of thegarden is the chiosk, that is, a large room,commonly beautified with a fine fountain in the midstof it. It is raised nine or ten steps, and inclosedwith gilded lattices, round which, vines, jessamines,and honey-suckles, make a sort of green wall. Large trees are planted round this place, which isthe scene of their greatest pleasures, and where theladies spend most of their hours, employed by theirmusic or embroidery.—In the public gardens,there are public chiosks where people go, thatare not so well accommodated at home, and drink theircoffee, sherbet, &c.—Neither are they ignorantof a more durable manner of building: their mosquesare all of free-stone, and the public hanns,or inns, extremely magnificent, many of them takingup a large square, built round with shops under stonearches, where poor artificers are lodged gratis. They have always a mosque joining to them, and thebody of the hann is a most noble hall, capableof holding three or four hundred persons, the courtextremely spacious, and cloisters round it, that giveit the air of our colleges. I own, I think ita more reasonable piece of charity than the foundingof convents.—I think I have now told youa great deal for once. If you don’t likemy choice of subjects, tell me what you would haveme write Upon; there is nobody more desirous to entertainyou, than, dear Mrs T——,

Your’s,&c. &c.

LET. XXXIII.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Adrianopolis, April 18. O. S.

I WROTE to you, dear sister, and to all my other Englishcorrespondents, by the last ship, and only Heaven cantell, when I shall have another opportunity of sendingto you; but I cannot forbear to write again, thoughperhaps my letter may ly upon my hands this two months. To confess the truth, my head is so full of my entertainmentyesterday, that ’tis absolutely necessary, formy own repose, to give it some vent. Withoutfarther preface, I will then begin my story.

I WAS invited to dine with the grand vizier’slady, and it was with a great deal of pleasure I preparedmyself for an entertainment, which was never beforegiven to any Christian. I thought I should verylittle satisfy her curiosity, (which I did not doubtwas a considerable motive to the invitation) by goingin a dress she was used to see, and therefore dressedmyself in the court habit of Vienna, which is muchmore magnificent than ours. However, I choseto go incognito, to avoid any disputes aboutceremony, and went in a Turkish coach, only attendedby my woman, that held up my train, and the Greeklady, who was my interpretess. I was met at thecourt door by her black eunuch, who helped me out

of the coach with great respect, and conducted methrough several rooms, where her she-slaves, finelydressed, were ranged on each side. In the innermost,I found the lady sitting on her sofa, in a sable vest.She advanced to meet me, and presented me half a dozenof her friends, with great civility. She seemeda very good woman, near fifty years old. I wassurprised to observe so little magnificence in herhouse, the furniture being all very moderate; and,except the habits and number of her slaves, nothingabout her appeared expensive. She guessed atmy thoughts, and told me she was no longer of an ageto spend either her time or money in superfluities;that her whole expence was in charity, and her wholeemployment praying to God. There was no affectationin this speech; both she and her husband are entirelygiven up to devotion. He never looks upon anyother woman; and, what is much more extraordinary,touches no bribes, notwithstanding the example ofall his predecessors. He is so scrupulous onthis point, he would not accept Mr W——’spresent, till he had been assured over and over, thatit was a settled perquisite Of his place, at the entranceof every ambassador. She entertained me withall kind of civility, till dinner came in, which wasserved, one dish at a time, to a vast number, all finelydressed after their manner, which I don’t thinkso bad as you have perhaps heard it represented. I am a very good judge of their eating, having livedthree weeks in the house of an effendi at Belgrade,who gave us very magnificent dinners, dressed by hisown cooks. The first week they pleased me extremely;but, I own, I then began to grow weary of their table,and desired our own cook might add a dish or two afterour manner. But I attribute this to custom,and am very much inclined to believe, that an Indian,who had never tasted of either, would prefer theircookery to ours. Their sauces are very high,all the roast very much done. They use a greatdeal of very rich spice. The soup is servedfor the last dish; and they have, at least, as greata variety of ragouts as we have. I was verysorry I could not eat of as many as the good lady wouldhave had me, who was very earnest in serving me ofevery thing. The treat concluded with coffeeand perfumes, which is a high mark of respect; twoslaves kneeling censed my hair, clothes, andhandkerchief. After this ceremony, she commandedher slaves to play and dance, which they did withtheir guitars in their hands, and she excused to metheir want of skill, saying she took no care to accomplishthem in that art.

I RETURNED her thanks, and, soon after, took my leave. I was conducted back in the same manner I entered,and would have gone straight to my own house; butthe Greek lady with me, earnestly solicited me tovisit the kahya’s lady, saying, he wasthe second officer in the empire, and ought indeedto be looked upon as the first, the grand vizier havingonly the name, while he exercised the authority. I had found so little diversion in the vizier’sharam, that I had no mind to go into another. But her importunity prevailed with me, and I am extremelyglad I was so complaisant. All things here werewith quite another air than at the grand vizier’s;and the very house confessed the difference betweenan old devotee, and a young beauty. It was nicelyclean and magnificent. I was met at the doorby two black eunuchs, who led me through a long gallery,between two ranks of beautiful young girls, with theirhair finely plaited, almost hanging to their feet,all dressed in fine light damasks, brocaded with silver. I was sorry that decency did not permit me to stopto consider them nearer. But that thought waslost upon my entrance into a large room, or ratherpavilion, built round with gilded sashes, which weremost of them thrown up, and the trees planted nearthem gave an agreeable shade, which hindered the sunfrom being troublesome. The jessamines and honey-sucklesthat twisted round their trunks, shed a soft perfume,increased by a white marble fountain playing sweetwater in the lower part of the room, which fell intothree or four basins, with a pleasing sound. The roof was painted with all sorts of flowers, fallingout of gilded baskets, that seemed tumbling down. On a sofa, raised three steps, and covered with finePersian carpets, sat the kahya’s lady,leaning on cushions of white sattin, embroidered; andat her feet sat two young girls about twelve yearsold, lovely as angels, dressed perfectly rich, andalmost covered with jewels. But they were hardlyseen near the fair Fatima, (for that is hername) so much her beauty effaced every thing I haveseen, nay, all that has been called lovely eitherin England or Germany. I must own, that I neversaw any thing so gloriously beautiful, nor can I recollecta face that would have been taken notice of near hers. She stood up to receive me, saluting me after theirfashion, putting her hand to her heart with a sweetnessfull of majesty, that no court breeding could evergive. She ordered cushions to be given me, andtook care to place me in the corner, which is theplace of honour. I confess, though the Greeklady had before given me a great opinion of her beauty,I was so struck with admiration, that I could not,for some time, speak to her, being wholly taken upin gazing. That surprising harmony of features!that charming result of the whole! that exact proportionof body! that lovely bloom of complexion unsulliedby art! the unutterable enchantment of her smile!—Buther eyes!—large and black, with all thesoft languishment of the blue! every turn of her facediscovering some new grace.

AFTER my first surprise was over, I endeavoured, bynicely examining her face, to find out some imperfection,without any fruit of my search, but my being clearlyconvinced of the error of that vulgar notion, thata face exactly proportioned, and perfectly beautiful,would not be agreeable; nature having done for her,with more success, what Appelles is said to have essayed,by a collection of the most exact features, to forma perfect face. Add to all this, a behaviourso full of grace and sweetness, such easy motions,with an air so majestic, yet free from stiffness oraffectation, that I am persuaded, could she be suddenlytransported upon the most polite throne of Europe,no body would think her other than born and bred tobe a queen, though educated in a country we call barbarous. To say all in a word, our most celebrated Englishbeauties would vanish near her.

SHE was dressed in a caftan of gold brocade,flowered with silver, very well fitted to her shape,and shewing to admiration the beauty of her bosom,only shaded by the thin gauze of her shift. Herdrawers were pale pink, her waistcoat green and silver,her slippers white sattin, finely embroidered:her lovely arms adorned with bracelets of diamonds,and her broad girdle set round with diamonds; uponher head a rich Turkish handkerchief of pink and silver,her own fine black hair hanging a great length, invarious tresses, and on one side of her head somebodkins of jewels. I am afraid you will accuseme of extravagance in this description. I thinkI have read somewhere, that women always speak inrapture when they speak of beauty, and I cannot imaginewhy they should not be allowed to do so. I ratherthink it a virtue to be able to admire without anymixture of desire or envy. The gravest writershave spoken with great warmth, of some celebratedpictures and statues. The workmanship of Heaven,certainly excels all our weak imitations, and, I think,has a much better claim to our praise. For mypart, I am not ashamed to own, I took more pleasurein looking on the beauteous Fatima, than the finestpiece of sculpture could have given me. She toldme, the two girls at her feet were her daughters,though she appeared too young to be their mother. Her fair maids were ranged below the sofa, to thenumber of twenty, and put me in mind of the picturesof the ancient nymphs. I did not think all naturecould have furnished such a scene of beauty. She made them a sign to play and dance. Fourof them immediately began to play some soft airs oninstruments, between a lute and a guitar, which theyaccompanied with their voices, while the others dancedby turns. This dance was very different fromwhat I had seen before. Nothing could be moreartful, or more proper to raise certain ideas. The tunes so soft!—the motions so languishing!—accompaniedwith pauses and dying eyes! half-falling back, andthen recovering themselves in so artful a manner, that

I am very positive, the coldest and most rigid prideupon earth, could not have looked upon them withoutthinking of something not to be spoke of.—Isuppose you may have read that the Turks have no music,but what is shocking to the ears; but this accountis from those who never heard any but what is playedin the streets, and is just as reasonable, as if aforeigner should take his ideas of English music,from the bladder and string, or the marrow-bonesand cleavers. I can assure you that themusic is extremely pathetic; ’tis true, I aminclined to prefer the Italian, but perhaps I am partial. I am acquainted with a Greek lady who sings betterthan Mrs Robinson, and is very well skilled in both,who gives the preference to the Turkish. ’Tiscertain they have very fine natural voices; these werevery agreeable. When the dance was over, fourfair slaves came into the room, with silver censersin their hands, and perfumed the air with amber, aloes-wood,and other scents. After this, they served mecoffee upon their knees, in the finest japan china,with soucoups of silver, gilt. The lovelyFatima entertained me, all this while, in the mostpolite agreeable manner, calling me often uzellesultanam, or the beautiful sultana; and desiringmy friendship with the best grace in the world, lamentingthat she could not entertain me in my own language.

WHEN I took my leave, two maids brought in a finesilver basket of embroidered handkerchiefs; she beggedI would wear the richest for her sake, and gave theothers to my woman and interpretess.—Iretired through the same ceremonies as before, andcould not help thinking, I had been some time in Mahomet’sparadise; so much was I charmed with what I had seen. I know not how the relation of it appears to you. I wish it may give you part of my pleasure; for Iwould have my dear sister share in all the diversionsof, Yours,&c.

LET. XXXIV.

TO THE ABBOT OF ——.

Adrianople, May 17. O. S.

I AM going to leave Adrianople, and I would not doit without giving you some account of all that iscurious in it, which I have taken a great deal ofpains to see. I will not trouble you with wisedissertations, whether or no this is the same citythat was anciently called Orestesit or Oreste, whichyou know better than I do. It is now calledfrom the emperor Adrian, and was the first Europeanseat of the Turkish empire, and has been the favouriteresidence of many sultans. Mahomet the fourth,and Mustapha, the brother of the reigning emperor,were so fond of it, that they wholly abandoned Constantinople;which humour so far exasperated the janizaries, thatit was a considerable motive to the rebellions thatdeposed them. Yet this man seems to love to keephis court here. I can give you no reason forthis partiality. ’Tis true, the situationis fine, and the country all round very beautiful;

but the air is extremely bad, and the seraglio itselfis not free from the ill effect of it. The townis said to be eight miles in compass, I suppose theyreckon in the gardens. There are some good housesin it, I mean large ones; for the architecture oftheir palaces never makes any great shew. Itis now very full of people; but they are most of themsuch as follow the court, or camp; and when they areremoved, I am told, ’tis no populous city. The river Maritza (anciently the Hebrus) on whichit is situated, is dried up every summer, which contributesvery much to make it unwholesome. It is nowa very pleasant stream. There are two noblebridges built over it. I had the curiosity togo to see the exchange in my Turkish dress, whichis disguise sufficient. Yet I own, I was notvery easy when I saw it crowded with janizaries; butthey dare not be rude to a woman, and made way forme with as much respect as if I had been in my ownfigure. It is half a mile in length, the roofarched, and kept extremely neat. It holds threehundred and sixty-five shops, furnished with all sortsof rich goods, exposed to sale in the same manneras at the new exchange in London. But the pavementis kept much neater; and the shops are all so clean,they seem just new painted.—Idle peopleof all sorts walk here for their diversion, or amusethemselves with drinking coffee, or sherbet, whichis cried about as oranges and sweet-meats are in ourplay-houses. I observed most of the rich tradesmenwere Jews. That people are in incredible powerin this country. They have many privileges aboveall the natural Turks themselves, and have formed avery considerable commonwealth here, being judged bytheir own laws. They have drawn the whole tradeof the empire into their hands, partly by the firmunion amongst themselves, and partly by the idle temperand want of industry in the Turks. Every bassahas his Jew, who is his homme d’affaires;he is let into all his secrets, and does all his business. No bargain is made, no bribe received, no merchandisedisposed of, but what passes through their hands. They are the physicians, the stewards, and the interpretersof all the great men. You may judge how advantageousthis is to a people who never fail to make use ofthe smallest advantages. They have found thesecret of making themselves so necessary, that theyare certain of the protection of the court, whateverministry is in power. Even the English, French,and Italian merchants, who are sensible of their artifices,are, however, forced to trust their affairs to theirnegotiation, nothing of trade being managed withoutthem, and the meanest amongst them being too importantto be disobliged, since the whole body take care ofhis interests, with as much vigour as they would thoseof the most considerable of their members. Theyare many of them vastly rich, but take care to makelittle public shew of it, though they live in theirhouses in the utmost luxury and magnificence.This copious subject has drawn me from my descriptionof the exchange, founded by Ali Bassa, whose name itbears. Near it is the sherski, a streetof a mile in length, full of shops of all kind offine merchandise, but excessive dear, nothing beingmade here. It is covered on the top with boards,to keep out the rain, that merchants may meet convenientlyin all weathers. The besiten near it,is another exchange, built upon pillars, where allsorts of horse-furniture is sold: glitteringevery where with gold, rich embroidery, and jewels,it makes a very agreeable shew. From this placeI went, in my Turkish coach, to the camp, which isto move in a few days to the frontiers. Thesultan is already gone to his tents, and all his court;the appearance of them is, indeed, very magnificent. Those of the great men are rather like palaces thantents, taking up a great compass of ground, and beingdivided into a vast number of apartments. Theyare all of green, and the bassas of three tails,have those ensigns of their power placed in very conspicuousmanner before their tents, which are adorned on thetop with gilded balls, more or less, according totheir different ranks. The ladies go in coachesto see the camp, as eagerly, as ours did to that ofHyde-park; but ’tis very easy to observe, thatthe soldiers do not begin the campaign with any greatcheerfulness. The war is a general grievanceupon the people, but particularly hard upon the tradesmen,now that the grand signior is resolved to lead hisarmy in person. Every company of them is obliged,upon this occasion, to make a present according totheir ability.

I TOOK the pains of rising at six in the morning tosee the ceremony which did not, however, begin tilleight. The grand signior was at the seragliowindow, to see the procession, which passed throughthe principal streets. It was preceded by aneffendi, mounted on a camel, richly furnished,reading aloud the alcoran, finely bound, laid upona cushion. He was surrounded by a parcel of boys,in white, singing some verses of it, followed by aman dressed in green boughs, representing a cleanhusbandman sowing seed. After him several reapers,With garlands of ears of corn, as Ceres is pictured,with scythes in their hands, seeming to mow. Then a little machine drawn by oxen, in which wasa wind-mill, and boys employed in grinding corn, followedby another machine, drawn by buffaloes, carrying anoven, and two more boys, one employed in kneading thebread, and another in drawing it out of the oven. These boys threw little cakes on both sides amongstthe crowd, and were followed by the whole companyof bakers, marching on foot, two by two, in theirbest clothes, with cakes, loaves, pasties, and piesof all sorts on their heads, and after them two buffoons,or jack-puddings, with their faces and clothes smearedwith meal, who diverted the mob with their antic gestures. In the same manner followed all the companies of

trade in the empire; the nobler sort, such as jewellers,mercers, &c. finely mounted, and many of the pageantsthat represent their trades, perfectly magnificent;amongst which, that of the furriers made one of thebest figures, being a very large machine, set roundwith the skins of ermines, foxes, &c. so well stuffed,that the animals seemed to be alive, and followedby music and dancers. I believe they were, uponthe whole, twenty thousand men, all ready to followhis highness, if he commanded them. The rearwas closed by the volunteers, who came to beg thehonour of dying in his service. This part ofthe shew seemed to me so barbarous, that I removedfrom the window upon the first appearance of it. They were all naked to the middle. Some hadtheir arms pierced through with arrows, left stickingin them. Others had them sticking in their heads,the blood trickling down their faces. Some slashedtheir arms with sharp knives, making the blood springout upon those that stood there; and this is lookedupon as an expression of their zeal for glory. I am told that some make use of it to advance theirlove; and, when they are near the window where theirmistress stands, (all the women in town being veiledto see this spectacle) they stick another arrow forher sake, who gives some sign of approbation and encouragementto this gallantry. The whole shew lasted fornear eight hours, to my great sorrow, who was heartilytired, though I was in the house of the widow of thecaptain bassa (admiral) who refreshed me with coffee,sweetmeats, sherbet, &c. with all possible civility.

I WENT two days after, to see, the mosque of sultanSelim I. which is a building very well worth the curiosityof a traveller. I was, dressed in my Turkishhabit, and admitted without scruple; though I believethey guessed who I was, by the extreme officiousnessof the door-keeper, to shew me every part of it. It is situated very advantageously in the midst ofthe city, and in the highest part of it, making avery noble show. The first court has four gates,and the innermost three. They are both of themsurrounded with cloisters, with marble pillars ofthe Ionic order, finely polished, and of very livelycolours; the whole pavement is of white marble, andthe roof of the cloisters divided into several cupolasor domes, headed with gilt balls on the top. In the midst of each court, are fine fountains ofwhite marble; and, before the great gate of the mosque,a portico, with green marble pillars, which has fivegates, the body of the mosque being one prodigiousdome. I understand so little of architecture,I dare not pretend to speak of the proportions. It seemed to me very regular, this I am sure of, itis vastly high, and I thought it the noblest buildingI ever saw. It has two rows of marble gallerieson pillars, with marble balusters; the pavement isalso marble, covered with Persian carpets. Inmy opinion, it is a great addition to its beauty,

that it is not divided into pews, and incumbered withforms and benches like our churches; nor the pillars(which are most of them red and white marble) disfiguredby the little tawdry images and pictures, that giveRoman-catholic churches the air of toy-shops. The walls seemed to be inlaid with such very livelycolours, in small flowers, that I could not imaginewhat stones had been made use of. But going nearer,I saw they were crusted with japan china, which hasa very beautiful effect. In the midst hung avast lamp of silver, gilt; besides which, I do verilybelieve, there were at least two thousand of a lessersize. This must look very glorious, when theyare all lighted; but being at night, no women aresuffered to enter. Under the large lamp is agreat pulpit of carved wood, gilt; and just by, a fountainto wash, which, you know, is an essential part oftheir devotion. In one corner is a little gallery,inclosed with gilded lattices, for the grand-signior. At the upper end, a large niche, very like an altar,raised two steps, covered with gold brocade, and standingbefore it, two silver gilt candlesticks, the heightof a man, and in them white wax candles, as thickas a man’s waist. The outside of the mosqueis adorned with towers, vastly high, gilt on the top,from whence the imaums (sic) call the peopleto prayers. I had the curiosity to go up oneof them, which is contrived so artfully, as to givesurprise to all that see it. There is but onedoor, which leads to three different stair-cases,going to the three different stories of the tower,in such a manner, that three priests may ascend, rounding,without ever meeting each other; a contrivance verymuch admired. Behind the mosque, is an exchangefull of shops, where poor artificers are lodged gratis. I saw several dervises (sic) at their prayers here. They are dressed in a plain piece of woolen, withtheir arms bare, and a woolen cap on their heads, likea high crowned hat without brims. I went tosee some other mosques, built much after the samemanner, but not comparable in point of magnificenceto this I have described, which is infinitely beyondany church in Germany or England; I won’t talkof other countries I have not seen. The seragliodoes not seem a very magnificent palace. Butthe gardens are very large, plentifully supplied withwater, and full of trees; which is all I know of them,having never been in them.

I TELL you nothing of the order of Mr W——’sentry, and his audience. These things are alwaysthe same, and have been so often described, I won’ttrouble you with the repetition. The young prince,about eleven years old, sits near his father, whenhe gives audience: he is a handsome boy; but,probably, will not immediately succeed the sultan,there being two sons of sultan Mustapha (his eldestbrother) remaining; the eldest about twenty years old,on whom the hopes of the people are fixed. Thisreign has been bloody and avaricious. I am aptto believe, they are very impatient to see the endof it. I am,Sir, yours, &c. &c.

P. S. I will write to you again from Constantinople.

LET. XXXV.

To THE ABBOT ——.

Constantinople, May 29. O. S.

I HAVE had the advantage of very fine weather, allmy journey; and as the summer is now in its beauty,I enjoyed the pleasure of fine prospects; and themeadows being full of all sorts of garden flowers,and sweet herbs, my berlin perfumed the air as it pressedthem. The grand signior furnished us with thirtycovered waggons for our baggage, and five coachesof the country for my women. We found the roadfull of the great spahis and their equipages comingout of Asia to the war. They always travel withtents; but I chose to ly in houses all the way. I will not trouble you with the names of the villageswe passed, in which there was nothing remarkable, butat Ciorlei, where there was a conac, or littleseraglio, built for the use of the grand signior,when he goes this road. I had the curiosityto view all the apartments destined for the ladiesof his court. They were in the midst of a thickgrove of trees, made fresh by fountains; but I wasmost surprised to see the walls almost covered withlittle distiches of Turkish verse, wrote with pencils.I made my interpreter explain them to me, and I foundseveral of them very well turned; though I easilybelieved him, that they had lost much of their beautyin the translation. One was literally thus inEnglish:

Wecome into this world; we lodge, and we depart;
Henever goes, that’s lodged within my heart.

THE rest of our journey was through fine painted meadows,by the side of the sea of Marmora, the ancient Propontis. We lay the next night at Selivrea, anciently a nobletown. It is now a good sea-port, and neatlybuilt enough, and has a bridge of thirty-two arches. Here is a famous ancient Greek church. I hadgiven one of my coaches to a Greek lady, who desiredthe conveniency of travelling with me; she designedto pay her devotions, and I was glad of the opportunityof going with her. I found it an ill-built edifice,set out with the same sort of ornaments, but lessrich, as the Roman-catholic churches. They shewedme a saint’s body, where I threw a piece ofmoney; and a picture of the virgin Mary, drawn by thehand of St Luke, very little to the credit of hispainting; but, however, the finest Madona (sic) ofItaly, is not more famous for her miracles. TheGreeks have a monstrous taste in their pictures, which,for more finery, are always drawn upon a gold ground. You may imagine what a good air this has; but theyhave no notion, either of shade or proportion. They have a bishop here, who officiated in his purplerobe, and sent me a candle almost as big as myselffor a present, when I was at my lodging. Welay that night at a town called Bujuk Cekmege, orGreat Bridge; and the night following, at Kujuk Cekmege,or Little Bridge; in a very pleasant lodging, formerly

a monastery of dervises; having before it a largecourt, encompassed with marble cloisters, with a goodfountain in the middle. The prospect from thisplace, and the gardens round it, is the most agreeableI have seen; and shews, that monks of all religionsknow how to chuse their retirements. ’Tisnow belonging to a hogia or schoolmaster, whoteaches boys here. I asked him to shew me hisown apartment, and was surprised to see him pointto a tall cypress tree in the garden, on the top ofwhich was a place for a bed for himself, and a littlelower, one for his wife and two children, who sleptthere every night. I was so much diverted withthe fancy, I resolved to examine his nest nearer;but after going up fifty steps, I found I had stillfifty to go up, and then I must climb from branch tobranch, with some hazard of my neck. I thoughtit therefore the best way to come down again.

WE arrived the next day at Constantinople; but I canyet tell you very little of it, all my time havingbeen taken up with receiving visits, which are, atleast, a very good entertainment to the eyes, theyoung women being all beauties, and their beauty highlyimproved by the high taste of their dress. Ourpalace is in Pera, which is no more a suburb of Constantinople,than Westminster is a suburb to London. Allthe 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 prospect in the world.

A CERTAIN French author says, Constantinople is twiceas big as Paris. Mr W——y isunwilling to own ’tis bigger than London, thoughI confess it appears to me to be so; but I don’tbelieve it is so populous. The burying fieldsabout it are certainly much larger than the wholecity. ’Tis surprising what a vast dealof land is lost this way in Turkey. SometimesI have seen burying places of several miles, belongingto very inconsiderable villages, which were formerlygreat towns, and retain no other mark of their ancientgrandeur, than this dismal one. On no occasiondo they ever remove a stone that serves for a monument. Some of them are costly enough, being of very finemarble. They set up a pillar, with a carved turbanton the top of it, to the memory of a man; and as theturbants, by their different shapes, shew the qualityor profession, ’tis in a manner putting up thearms of the deceased; besides, the pillar commonlybears an inscription in gold letters. The ladieshave a simple pillar without other ornament, exceptthose that die unmarried, who have a rose on the topof their monument. The sepulchres of particularfamilies are railed in, and planted round with trees.Those of the sultans, and some great men, have lampsconstantly burning in them.

WHEN I spoke of their religion, I forgot to mentiontwo particularities, one of which I have read of,but it seemed so odd to me, I could not believe it;yet ’tis certainly true; that when a man hasdivorced his wife, in the most solemn manner, he cantake her again, upon no other terms, than permittinganother man to pass a night with her; and there aresome examples of those who have submitted to thislaw, rather than not have back their beloved. The other point of doctrine is very extraordinary. Any woman that dies unmarried is looked upon to diein a state of reprobation. To confirm this belief,they reason, that the end of the creation of womanis to increase and multiply; and that she is only properlyemployed in the works of her calling, when she is bringingforth children, or taking care of them, which areall the virtues that God expects from her. Andindeed, their way of life, which shuts them out ofall public commerce, does not permit them any other. Our vulgar notion, that they don’t own womento have any souls, is a mistake. ’Tistrue, they say, they are not of so elevated a kind,and therefore must not hope to be admitted into theparadise appointed for the men, who are to be entertainedby celestial beauties. But there is a placeof happiness destined for souls of the inferior order,where all good women are to be in eternal bliss.Many of them are very superstitious, and will not remainwidows ten days, for fear of dying in the reprobatestate of an useless creature. But those thatlike their liberty, and are not slaves to their religion,content themselves with marrying when they are afraidof dying. This is a piece of theology, very differentfrom that which teaches nothing to be more acceptableto God than a vow of perpetual virginity: whichdivinity is most rational, I leave you to determine.

I HAVE already made some progress in a collectionof Greek medals. Here are several professed antiquaries,who are ready to serve any body that desires them. But you cannot imagine how they stare in my face,when I enquire about them, as if no body was permittedto seek after medals, till they were grown a pieceof antiquity themselves. I have got some veryvaluable ones of the Macedonian kings, particularlyone of Perseus, so lively, I fancy I can see all hisill qualities in his face. I have a prophyry(sic) head finely cut, of the true Greek sculpture;but who it represents, is to be guessed at by thelearned when I return. For you are not to supposethese antiquaries (who are all Greeks) know any thing. Their trade is only to sell; they have correspondentsat Aleppo, Grand Cairo, in Arabia and Palestine, whosend them all they can find, and very often greatheaps, that are only fit to melt into pans and kettles. They get the best price they can for them, withoutknowing those that are valuable from those that arenot. Those that pretend to skill, generally findout the image of some saint in the medals of the Greek

cities. One of them, shewing me the figure ofa 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, ona sardonyx; and, to enhance the value, gave him thetitle of saint Augustine. I have bespoke a mummy,which I hope will come safe to my hands, notwithstandingthe misfortune that befel (sic) a very fine one, designedfor the king of Sweden. He gave a great pricefor it, and the Turks took it into their heads, thathe must have some considerable project depending uponit. They fancied it the body of, God knows who;and that the state of their empire mystically dependedon the conversation of it. Some old prophecieswere remembered upon this occasion, and the mummycommitted prisoner to the Seven Towers, where it hasremained under close confinement ever since, I darenot try my interest in so considerable a point, asthe release of it; but I hope mine will pass withoutexamination. I can tell you nothing more atpresent of this famous city. When I have lookeda little about me, you shall hear from me again. I am, Sir, Your’s, &c. &c.

LET. XXXVI.

TO MR POPE.

Belgrade Village, June 17. O. S.

I HOPE, before this time, you have received two orthree of my letters. I had yours but yesterday,though dated the third of February, in which you supposeme to be dead and buried. I have already letyou know, that I am still alive; but to say truth,I look upon my present circ*mstances to be exactlythe same with those of departed spirits. Theheats of Constantinople have driven me to this place,which perfectly answers the description of the Elysianfields. I am in the middle of a wood, consistingchiefly of fruit-trees, watered by a vast number offountains, famous for the excellency of their water,and divided into many shady walks, upon short grass,that seems to me artificial, but, I am assured, isthe pure work of nature—within view ofthe Black sea, from whence we perpetually enjoy therefreshment of cool breezes, that make us insensibleof the heat of the summer. The village is onlyinhabited by the richest amongst the Christians, whomeet every night at a fountain, forty paces from myhouse, to sing and dance. The beauty and dressof the women exactly resemble the ideas of the ancientnymphs, as they are given us by the representationsof the poets and painters. But what persuadesme more fully of my decease, is the situation of myown mind, the profound ignorance I am in, of whatpasses among the living (which only comes to me bychance) and the great calmness with which I receiveit. Yet I have still a hankering after my friendsand acquaintances left in the world, according tothe authority of that admirable author,

That spirits departed arewondrous kind
To friends and relations left behind:
Which nobody can deny.

Of which solemn truth, I am a dead instance. I think Virgil is of the same opinion, that in humansouls there will still be some remains of human passions:

—Curae non ipsaein morte relinquunt.

And ’tis very necessary, to make a perfect elysium(sic), that there should be a river Lethe, which Iam not so happy as to find. To say truth, Iam sometimes very weary of the singing, and dancing,and sunshine, and wish for the smoke and impertinenciesin which you toil; though I endeavour to persuademyself, that I live in a more agreeable variety thanyou do; and that Monday, setting of partridges; Tuesday,reading English; Wednesday, studying in the Turkishlanguage, (in which, by the way, I am already verylearned;) Thursday, classical authors; Friday, spentin writing; Saturday, at my needle; and Sunday, admittingof visits, and hearing of music, is a better way ofdisposing of the week; than, Monday, at the drawingroom; Tuesday, lady Mohun’s; Wednesday, at theopera; Thursday, the play; Friday, Mrs Chetwynd’s,&c. a perpetual round of hearing the same scandal,and seeing the same follies acted over and over, whichhere affect me no more than they do other dead people. I can now hear of displeasing things with pity, andwithout indignation. The reflection on the greatgulph (sic) between you and me, cools all news thatcome hither. I can neither be sensibly touchedwith joy or grief, when I consider, that possiblythe cause of either is removed, before the lettercomes to my hands. But (as I said before) thisindolence does not extend to my few friendships; Iam still warmly sensible of yours and Mr Congreve’s,and desire to live in your remembrance, though deadto all the world beside. I am, &c. &c.

LET. XXXVII.

TO THE LADY ——.

Belgrade Village, June 17 O. S.

I HEARTILY beg your ladyship’s pardon; but Ireally could not forbear laughing heartily at yourletter, and the commissions you are pleased to honourme with. You desire me to buy you a Greek slave,who is to be mistress of a thousand good qualities. The Greeks are subjects, and not slaves. Thosewho are to be bought in that manner, are either suchas are taken in war, or stolen by the Tartars fromRussia, Circassia, or Georgia, and are such miserable,awkward, poor wretches, you would not think any ofthem worthy to be your house-maids. ’Tistrue, that many thousands were taken in the Morea;but they have been, most of them, redeemed by the charitablecontributions of the Christians, or ransomed by theirown relations at Venice. The fine slaves thatwait upon the great ladies, or serve the pleasuresof the great men, are all bought at the age of eightor nine years old, and educated with great care, toaccomplish them in singing, dancing, embroidery, &c. They are commonly Circassians, and their patron neversells them, except it is as a punishment for somevery great fault. If ever they grow weary ofthem, they either present them to a friend, or givethem their freedom. Those that are exposed tosale at the markets, are always either guilty of some

crime, or so entirely worthless, that they are of nouse at all. I am afraid you will doubt the truthof this account, which, I own, is very different fromour common notions in England; but it is no less truthfor all that.—Your whole letter is fullof mistakes, from one end to the other. I seeyou have taken your ideas of Turkey, from that worthyauthor Dumont, who has wrote with equal ignorance andconfidence. ’Tis a particular pleasureto me here, to read the voyages to the Levant, whichare generally so far removed from truth, and so fullof absurdities, I am very well diverted with them. They never fail giving you an account of the women,whom, ’tis certain, they never saw, and talkingvery wisely of the genius of the men, into whose companythey are never admitted; and very often describe mosques,which they dare not even peep into. The Turksare very proud, and will not converse with a strangerthey are not assured is considerable in his own country. I speak of the men of distinction; for, as to theordinary fellows, you may imagine what ideas theirconversation can give of the general genius of thepeople.

AS to the balm of Mecca, I will certainly send yousome; but it is not so easily got as you suppose it,and I cannot, in conscience, advise you to make useof it. I know not how it comes to have suchuniversal applause. All the ladies of my acquaintanceat London and Vienna, have begged me to send potsof it to them. I have had a present of a smallquantity (which, I’ll assure you, is very valuable)of the best sort, and with great joy applied it tomy face, expecting some wonderful effect to my advantage. The next morning, the change indeed was wonderful;my face was swelled to a very extraordinary size,and all over as red as my lady H——’s. It remained in this lamentable state three days,during which, you may be sure, I passed my time veryill. I believed it would never be otherways(sic); and to add to my mortification, Mr W——yreproached my indiscretion, without ceasing. However, my face is since in statu quo; nay,I am told by the ladies here, that it is much mendedby the operation, which, I confess, I cannot perceivein my looking-glass. Indeed, if one was to forman opinion of this balm from their faces, one shouldthink very well of it. They all make use ofit, and have the loveliest bloom in the world. For my part, I never intend to endure the pain ofit again; let my complexion take its natural course,and decay in its own due time. I have very littleesteem for medicines of this nature, but do as youplease, madam; only remember, before you use it, thatyour face will not be such as you will care to shewin the drawing-room for some days after. Ifone was to believe the women in this country, thereis a surer way of making one’s self beloved,than by becoming handsome; though, you know that’sour method. But they pretend to the knowledgeof secrets, that, by way of inchantment (sic), give

them the entire empire over whom they please. For me, who am not very apt to believe in wonders,I cannot find faith for this. I disputed thepoint last night with a lady, who really talks verysensibly on any other subject; but she was downrightangry with me, in that she did not perceive, she hadpersuaded me of the truth of forty stories she toldme of this kind; and, at last, mentioned several ridiculousmarriages, that there could be no other reason assignedfor. I assured her, that, in England, wherewe were entirely ignorant of all magic, where theclimate is not half so warm, nor the women half sohandsome, we were not without our ridiculous marriages;and that we did not look upon it as any thing supernatural,when a man played the fool, for the sake of a woman. But my arguments could not convince her against (asshe said) her certain knowledge. To this sheadded, that she scrupled making use of charmsherself; but that she could do it whenever she pleased;and, staring me in the face, said, (with a very learnedair) that no enchantments would have their effectsupon me; and that there were some people exempt fromtheir power, but very few. You may imagine howI laughed at this discourse; but all the women areof the same opinion. They don’t pretendto any commerce with the devil; but only that thereare certain compositions adapted to inspire love. If one could send over a ship-load of them, I fancyit would be a very quick way of raising an estate. What would not some ladies of our acquaintance givefor such merchandize? Adieu, my dear lady ——. I cannot conclude my letter with a subject that affordsmore delightful scenes to the imagination. Ileave you to figure to yourself the extreme courtthat will be made to me, at my return, if my travelsshould furnish me with such a useful piece of learning. I am, dear madam, yours, &c.&c.

LET. XXXVIII.

TO MRS T——.

Pera of Constantinople, Jan. 4. O. S.

I AM infinitely obliged to you, dear Mrs T——for your entertaining letter. You are the onlyone of my correspondents that have judged right enough,to think I would gladly be informed of the news amongstyou. All the rest of them tell me, (almost inthe same words) that they suppose I know every thing. Why they are pleased to suppose in this manner, Ican guess no reason, except they are persuaded, thatthe breed of Mahomet’s pigeon still subsistsin this country, and that I receive supernatural intelligence. I wish I could return your goodness with some divertingaccounts from hence. But I know not what partof the scenes here would gratify your curiosity, orwhether you have any curiosity at all for things sofar distant. To say the truth, I am at thispresent writing, not very much turned for the recollectionof what is diverting, my head being wholly filled withthe preparations necessary for the increase of my family,

which I expect every day. You may easily guessat my uneasy situation. But I am, however, comfortedin some degree, by the glory that accrues to me fromit, and a reflection on the contempt I should otherwisefall under. You won’t know what to makeof this speech; but, in this country, ’tis moredespicable to be married and not fruitful, than ’tiswith us to be fruitful before marriage. Theyhave a notion, that whenever a woman leaves off bringingforth children, ’tis because she is too oldfor that business, whatever her face says to the contrary. This opinion makes the ladies here so ready to makeproofs of their youth, (which is as necessary, in orderto be a received beauty, as it is to shew theproofs of nobility, to be admitted knights of Malta)that they do not content themselves with using thenatural means, but fly to all sorts of quackeries,to avoid the scandal of being past childbearing, andoften kill themselves by them. Without any exaggeration,all the women of my acquaintance have twelve or thirteenchildren; and the old ones boast of having had fiveand twenty, or thirty a-piece, and are respected accordingto the number they have produced.—When theyare with child, ’tis their common expressionto say, They hope God will be so merciful as tosend them two this time; and when I have askedthem sometimes, How they expected to provide for sucha flock as they desire? They answered, Thatthe plague will certainly kill half of them; which,indeed, generally happens, without much concern tothe parents, who are satisfied with the vanity ofhaving brought forth so plentifully. The Frenchambassadress is forced to comply with this fashionas well as myself. She has not been here muchabove a year, and has lain in once, and is big again. What is most wonderful, is, the exemption they seemto enjoy from the curse entailed on the sex. They see all company on the day of their delivery,and, at the fortnight’s end, return visits,set out in their jewels and new clothes. I wishI may find the influence of the climate in this particular. But I fear I shall continue an English woman in thataffair, as well as I do in my dread of fire and plague,which are two things very little feared here. Most families have had their houses burnt down onceor twice, occasioned by their extraordinary way ofwarming themselves, which is neither by chimnies (sic)nor stoves, but by a certain machine called a tendour,the height of two feet, in the form of a table, coveredwith a fine carpet or embroidery. This is madeonly of wood, and they put into it a small quantityof hot ashes, and sit with their legs under the carpet. At this table they work, read and very often, sleep;and, if they chance to dream, kick down the tendour,and the hot ashes commonly set the house on fire. There were five hundred houses burnt in this mannerabout a fortnight ago, and I have seen several ofthe owners since, who seem not at all moved at so commona misfortune. They put their goods into a bark,and see their houses burn with great philosophy, theirpersons being very seldom endangered, having no stairsto descend.

BUT, having entertained you with things I don’tlike, ’tis but just I should tell you somethingthat pleases me. The climate is delightful inthe extremest degree. I am now sitting, thispresent fourth of January, with the windows open,enjoying the warm shine of the sun, while you arefreezing over a sad sea-coal fire; and my chamber isset out with carnations, roses, and jonquils, freshfrom my garden. I am also charmed with many pointsof the Turkish law, to our shame be it spoken, betterdesigned, and better executed than ours; particularly,the punishment of convicted liars (triumphant criminalsin our country, God knows). They are burnt inthe forehead with a hot iron, when they are provedthe authors of any notorious falsehoods. Howmany white foreheads should we see disfigured! How many fine gentlemen would be forced to wear theirwigs as low as their eye-brows, were this law in practicewith us! I should go on to tell you many otherparts of justice, but I must send for my midwife.

LET. XXXIX.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Pera of Constantinople, March 10. O. S.

I HAVE not written to you, dear sister, these manymonths—a great piece of self-denial. But I know not where to direct, or what part of theworld you are in. I have received no letter fromyou since that short note of April last, in whichyou tell me, that you are on the point of leavingEngland, and promise me a direction for the placeyou stay in; but I have, in vain, expected it tillnow; and now I only learn from the gazette, that youare returned, which induces me to venture this letterto your house at London. I had rather ten ofmy letters should be lost, than you imagine I don’twrite; and I think it is hard fortune, if one in tendon’t reach you. However, I am resolvedto keep the copies, as testimonies of my inclination,to give you, to the utmost of my power, all the divertingpart of my travels, while you are exempt from allthe fatigues and inconveniences.

IN the first place, then, I wish you joy of your niece;for I was brought to bed of a daughter [Footnote:The present Countess of Bute] five weeks ago. I don’t mention this as one of my divertingadventures; though I must own, that it is not halfso mortifying here as in England; there being as muchdifference, as there is between a little cold in thehead, which sometimes happens here, and the consumptioncough, so common in London. No body keeps theirhouse a month for lying in; and I am not so fond ofany of our customs, as to retain them when they arenot necessary. I returned my visits at threeweeks end; and, about four days ago, crossed the sea,which divides this place from Constantinople, to makea new one, where I had the good fortune to pick upmany curiosities. I went to see the sultana:Hafiten, favourite of the late emperor Mustapha, who,you know, (or perhaps you don’t know) was deposedby his brother, the reigning sultan, and died a few

weeks after, being poisoned, as it was generally believed. This lady was, immediately after his death, salutedwith an absolute order to leave the seraglio, and chuseherself a husband among the great men at the Porte. I suppose you may imagine her overjoyed at this proposal.—Quitethe contrary.—These women, who are called,and esteem themselves queens, look upon this libertyas the greatest disgrace and affront that can happento them. She threw herself at the sultan’sfeet, and begged him to poniard (sic) her, ratherthan use his brother’s widow with that contempt. She represented to him, in agonies of sorrow, thatshe was privileged from this misfortune, by havingbrought five princes into the Ottoman family; butall the boys being dead, and only one girl surviving,this excuse was not received, and she was compelledto make her choice. She chose Bekir Effendi,then secretary of state, and above four score yearsold, to convince the world, that she firmly intendedto keep the vow she had made, of never suffering asecond husband to approach her bed; and since shemust honour some subject so far, as to be called hiswife, she would chuse him as a mark of her gratitude,since it was he that had presented her, at the ageof ten years, to, her last lord. But she neverpermitted him to pay her one visit; though it is nowfifteen years she has been in his house, where shepasses her time in uninterrupted mourning, with aconstancy very little known in Christendom, especiallyin a widow of one and twenty, for she is now but thirty-six. She has no black eunuchs for her guard, her husbandbeing obliged to respect her as a queen, and not toinquire at all into what is done in her apartment.

I WAS led into a large room, with a sofa the wholelength of it, adorned with white marble pillars likea ruelle, covered with pale blue figured velvet,on a silver ground, with cushions of the same, whereI was desired to repose, till the sultana appeared,who had contrived this manner of reception, to avoidrising up at my entrance, though she made me an inclinationof her head, when I rose up to her. I was veryglad to observe a lady that had been distinguishedby the favour of an emperor, to whom beauties were,every day, presented from all parts of the world. But she did not seem to me, to have ever been halfso beautiful as the fair Fatima I saw at Adrianople;though she had the remains of a fine face, more decayedby sorrow than time. But her dress was somethingso surprisingly rich, that I cannot forbear describingit to you. She wore a vest called dualma,which differs from a caftan by longer sleeves,and folding over at the bottom. It was of purplecloth, strait to her shape, and thick set, on eachside, down to her feet, and round the sleeves, withpearls of the best water, of the same size as theirbuttons commonly are. You must not suppose, thatI 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 goldloops, so common on birth-day coats. This habitwas tied, at the waist, with two large tassels ofsmaller pearls, and round the arms embroidered withlarge diamonds. Her shift was fastened at thebottom with a great diamond, shaped like a lozenge;her girdle as broad as the broadest English ribband,entirely covered with diamonds. Round her neckshe wore three chains, which reached to her knees;one of large pearl, at the bottom of which hung a finecoloured emerald, as big as a turkey-egg; another,consisting of two hundred emeralds, close joined together,of the most lively green, perfectly matched, everyone as large as a half-crown piece, and as thick asthree crown pieces, and another of small emeralds,perfectly round. But her ear-rings eclipsedall the rest. They were two diamonds, shapedexactly like pears, as large as a big hazle-nut (sic). Round her talpoche she had four strings ofpearl—the whitest and most perfect in theworld, at least enough to make four necklaces, everyone as large as the duch*ess of Marlborough’s,and of the same shape, fastened with two roses, consistingof a large ruby for the middle stone, and round themtwenty drops of clean diamonds to each. Besidesthis, her head-dress was covered with bodkins of emeraldsand diamonds. She wore large diamond bracelets,and had five rings on her fingers (except Mr Pitt’s)the largest I ever saw in my life. ’Tisfor 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 beworth a hundred thousand pounds sterling. ThisI am sure of, that no European queen has half thequantity; and the empress’s jewels, though veryfine would look very mean near her’s. She gave me a dinner of fifty dishes of meat, which(after their fashion) were placed on the table butone at a time, and was extremely tedious. Butthe magnificence of her table answered very well tothat of her dress. The knives were of gold, andthe hafts set with diamonds. But the piece ofluxury which grieved my eyes, was the table-clothand napkins, which were all tiffany, embroidered withsilk and gold, in the finest manner, in natural flowers. It was with the utmost regret that I made use of thesecostly napkins, which were as finely wrought as thefinest handkerchiefs that ever came out of this country. You may be sure, that they were entirely spoiledbefore dinner was over. The sherbet (which isthe liquor they drink at meals) was served in chinabowls; but the covers and salvers massy gold. After dinner, water was brought in gold basons, andtowels of the same kind with the napkins, which Ivery unwillingly wiped my hands upon, and coffee wasserved in china, with gold soucoups [Footnote:Saucers.]

THE sultana seemed in a very good humour, and talkedto me with the utmost civility. I did not omitthis opportunity of learning all that I possibly couldof the seraglio, which is so entirely unknown amongstus. She assured me, that the story of the sultan’sthrowing a handkerchief, is altogether fabulous;and the manner, upon that occasion, no other thanthis: He sends the kyslir aga, to signifyto the lady the honour he intends her. She isimmediately complimented upon it, by the others, andled to the bath, where she is perfumed and dressedin the most magnificent and becoming manner.The emperor precedes his visit by a royal present,and then comes into her apartment: neither isthere any such thing as her creeping in at the bed’sfoot. She said, that the first he made choiceof was always after the first in rank, and not themother of the eldest son, as other writers would makeus believe. Sometimes the sultan diverts himselfin the company of all his ladies, who stand in a circleround him. And she confessed, they were readyto die with envy and jealousy of the happy shethat he distinguished by any appearance of preference. But this seemed to me neither better nor worse thanthe circles in most courts, where the glance of themonarch is watched, and every smile is waited forwith impatience, and envied by those who cannot obtainit.

SHE never mentioned the sultan without tears in hereyes, yet she seemed very fond of the discourse. “My past happiness, said she, “appearsa dream to me. Yet I cannot forget, that I wasbeloved by “the greatest and most lovely ofmankind. I was chosen from all the “rest,to make all his campaigns with him; and I would notsurvive “him, if I was not passionately fondof the princess my daughter. “Yet all mytenderness for her was hardly enough to make me preserve“my life. When I left him, I passed a wholetwelvemonth without “seeing the light. Time has softened my despair; yet I now pass some“days every week in tears, devoted to the memoryof my sultan.” There was no affectationin these words. It was easy to see she was ina deep melancholy, though her good humour made herwilling to divert me.

SHE asked me to walk in her garden, and one of herslaves immediately brought her a pellice ofrich brocade lined with sables. I waited onher into the garden, which had nothing in it remarkablebut the fountains; and from thence she shewed me allher apartments. In her bed-chamber, her toiletwas displayed, consisting of two looking-glasses,the frames covered With pearls, and her night talpocheset with bodkins of jewels, and near it three vestsof fine sables, every one of which is, at least, wortha thousand dollars, (two hundred pounds English money.) I don’t doubt but these rich habits were purposelyplaced in sight, though they seemed negligently thrownon the sofa. When I took my leave of her, I wascomplimented with perfumes, as at the grand vizier’s,

and presented with a very fine embroidered handkerchief. Her slaves were to the number of thirty, besidesten little ones, the eldest not above seven yearsold. These were the most beautiful girls I eversaw, all richly dressed; and I observed that the sultanatook a great deal of pleasure in these lovely children,which is a vast expence; for there is not a handsomegirl of that age to be bought under a hundred poundssterling. They wore little garlands of flowers,and their own hair, braided, which was all their head-dress;but their habits were all of gold stuffs. Theseserved her coffee kneeling; brought water when shewashed, &c.—’Tis a great part of thework of the older slaves to take care of these younggirls, to learn them to embroider, and to serve themas carefully as if they were children of the family. Now, do you imagine I have entertained you, all thiswhile, with a relation that has, at least, receivedmany embellishments from my hand? This, youwill say, is but too like the Arabian tales.—Theseembroidered napkins! and a jewel as large as a turkey’segg!—You forget, dear sister, those verytales were written by an author of this country, and(excepting the enchantments) are a real representationof the manners here. We travellers are in veryhard circ*mstances: If we say nothing but whathas been said before us, we are dull, and we have observed nothing. If we tell any thingnew, we are laughed at as fabulous and romantic,not allowing either for the difference of ranks, whichaffords difference of company, or more curiosity,or the change of customs, that happen every twentyyears in every country. But the truth is, peoplejudge of travellers, exactly with the same candour,good nature, and impartiality, they judge of theirneighbours upon all occasions. For my part,if I live to return amongst you, I am so well acquaintedwith the morals of all my dear friends and acquaintances,that I am resolved to tell them nothing at all, toavoid the imputation (which their charity would certainlyincline them to) of my telling too much. ButI depend upon your knowing me enough, to believe whateverI seriously assert for truth; though I give you leaveto be surprised at an account so new to you. But what would you say if I told you, that I havebeen in a haram, where the winter apartment was wainscoted(sic) with inlaid work of mother of pearl, ivory ofdifferent colours, and olive wood, exactly like thelittle boxes you have seen brought Out of this country;and in whose rooms designed for summer, the wallsare all crusted with japan china, the roofs gilt,and the floors spread with the finest Persian carpets? Yet there is nothing more true; such is the palaceof my lovely friend, the fair Fatima, whom I was acquaintedwith at Adrianople. I went to visit her yesterday;and, if possible, she appeared to me handsomer thanbefore. She met me at the door of her chamber,and, giving me her hand With the best grace in theworld; You Christian ladies (said she, with a smilethat made her as beautiful as an angel) have the reputationof inconstancy, and I did not expect, whatever goodnessyou expressed for me at Adrianople, that I shouldever see you again. But I am now convinced thatI have really the happiness of pleasing you; and,if you knew how I speak of you amongst our ladies,you would be assured, that you do me justice in makingme your friend. She placed me in the corner ofthe sofa, and I spent the afternoon in her conversation,with the greatest pleasure in the world.—Thesultana Hafiten is, what one Would naturally expectto find a Turkish lady, willing to oblige, but notknowing how to go about it; and ’tis easy tosee, in her manner, that she has lived excluded fromthe world. But Fatima has all the politenessand good breeding of a court, with an air that inspires,at once, respect and tenderness; and now, that I understandher language, I find her wit as agreeable as her beauty. She is very carious after the manners of other countries,and has not the partiality for her own, so commonin little minds. A Greek that I carried withme, who had never seen her before, (nor could havebeen admitted now, if she had not been in my train,)shewed that surprise at her beauty and manners, whichis unavoidable at the first sight, and said to me inItalian,—This is no Turkish lady, sheis certainly some Christian.—Fatimaguessed she spoke of her, and asked what she said. I would not have told her, thinking she would havebeen no better pleased with the compliment, than oneof our court beauties to be told she had the air ofa Turk; but the Greek lady told it to her; and shesmiled, saying, It is not the first time I haveheard so: my mother was a Poloneze, taken atthe siege of Caminiec; and my father used to rallyme, saying, He believed his Christian wife had foundsome gallant; for that I had not the air of a Turkishgirl.—I assured her, that if all theTurkish ladies were like her, it was absolute necessaryto confine them from public view, for the repose ofmankind; and proceeded to tell her, what a noise sucha face as hers would make in London or Paris. Ican’t believe you, replied she agreeably;if beauty was so much valued in your country, asyou say, they would never have suffered you to leaveit.—Perhaps, dear sister, you laughat my vanity in repeating this compliment; but I onlydo it, as I think it very well turned, and give ityou as an instance of the spirit of her conversation. Her house was magnificently furnished, and very wellfancied; her winter rooms being furnished with figuredvelvet, on gold grounds, and those for summer, withfine Indian quilting embroidered with gold. Thehouses of the great Turkish ladies are kept cleanwith as much nicety as those in Holland. Thiswas situated in a high part of the town; and fromthe window of her summer apartment, we had the prospectof the sea, the islands, and the Asian mountains.—Myletter is insensibly grown so long, I am ashamed ofit. This is a very bad symptom. ’Tiswell if I don’t degenerate into a downright story-teller. It may be, our proverb, that knowledge is no burden,may be true, as to one’s self but knowing toomuch, is very apt to make us troublesome to otherpeople. I am, &c, &c.

LET. XL.

TO THE LADY ——.

Pera, March 16. O. S.

I AM extremely pleased, my dear lady, that you have,at length, found a commission for me, that I can answer,without disappointing your expectations; though Imust tell you, that it is not so easy as perhaps youthink it; and that if my curiosity had not been morediligent than any other stranger’s has ever yetbeen, I must have answered you with an excuse, as,I was forced to do, when you desired me to buy youa Greek slave. I have got for you, as you desire,a Turkish love-letter, which I have put into a littlebox, and ordered the captain of the Smyrniote to deliverit to you with this letter. The translation ofit is literally as follows: The first piece youshould pull out of the purse, is a little pearl, whichis in Turkish called Ingi, and must be understoodin this manner:

Ingi, Sensin Uzellerin gingi
Pearl, Fairest of the young.

Caremfil, Caremfilsen cararen yok
Clove, Conge gulsum timarin yok
Bensenychok than severim
Seninbenden, haberin yok.

You are as slenderas the clove!
You are an unblown rose!
I have long loved you, and youhave not known it!

Pul, Derdime derman bul
Jonquil, Have pity on my passion!

Kihat, Birlerum sahat sahat
Paper, I faint every hour!

Ermus, Ver bixe bir umut
Pear, Give me some hope.

Jabun, Derdinden oldum zabun
Soap, I am sick with love.

Chemur, Ben oliyim size umur
Coal, May I die, and all my yearsbe yours!

GUl Ben aglarum sen gul
A rose, May you be pleased, andyour sorrows mine!

Hasir, Oliim sana yazir
A straw, Suffer me to be your slave.

Jo ho, Ustune bulunmaz pahu
Cloth, Your price is not to befound.

Tartsin, Sen ghel ben chekeim senin hargin
Cinnamon, But my fortune is yours.

Giro, Esking-ilen oldum ghira
A match, I burn, I burn! my flameconsumes me!

Sirma, Uzunu benden a yirma
Goldthread, Don’t turn away yourface.

Satch, Bazmazum tatch
Hair, Crown of my head!

Uzum Benim iki Guzum
Grape, My eyes!

Til, Ulugorum tez ghel
Gold wire, I die—come quickly.

And, by way of postscript:

Beber, Bize bir dogm haber
Pepper, Send me an answer.

You see this letter is all in verse, and I can assureyou, there is as much fancy shewn in the choice ofthem, as in the most studied expressions of our letters;there being, I believe, a million of verses designedfor this use. There is no colour, no flower,no weed, no fruit, herb, pebble, or feather, thathas not a verse belonging to it; and you may quarrel,reproach, or send letters of passion, friendship,or civility, or even Of news, without ever inkingyour fingers.

I FANCY you are now wondering at my profound learning;but, alas! dear madam, I am almost fallen into themisfortune so common to the ambitious; while theyare employed on distant insignificant conquests abroad,a rebellion starts up at home;—I am in greatdanger of losing my English. I find ’tisnot half so easy to me to write in it, as it was atwelvemonth ago. I am forced to study for expressions,and must leave off all other languages, and try tolearn my mother tongue.—Human understandingis as much limited as human power, or human strength. The memory can retain but a certain number of images;and ’tis as impossible for one human creatureto be perfect master of ten different languages, asto have, in perfect subjection, ten different kingdoms,or to fight against ten men at a time; I am afraidI shall at last know none as I should do. I livein a place, that very well represents the tower ofBabel: in Pera they speak Turkish, Greek, Hebrew,Armenian, Arabic, Persian, Russian, Sclavonian, Walachian,German, Dutch, French, English, Italian, Hungarian;and, what is worse, there are ten of these languagesspoken in my own family. My grooms are Arabs;my footmen French, English, and Germans; my nursean Armenian; my house-maids Russians; half a dozenother servants, Greeks; my steward an Italian; myjanizaries Turks; so that I live in the perpetual hearingof this medley of sounds, which produces a very extraordinaryeffect upon the people that are born here; for theylearn all these languages at the same time, and withoutknowing any of them well enough to write or read init. There are very few men, women, or even childrenhere, that have not the same compass of words in fiveor six of them. I know, myself, several infantsof three or four years old, that speak Italian, French,Greek, Turkish, and Russian, which last they learnof their nurses, who are generally of that country. This seems almost incredible to you, and is, in mymind, one of the most curious things in this country,and takes off very much from the merit of our ladies,who set up for such extraordinary geniuses, upon thecredit of some superficial knowledge of French andItalian.

AS I prefer English to all the rest, I am extremelymortified at the daily decay of it in my head, whereI’ll assure you (with grief of heart) it isreduced to such a small number of words, I cannotrecollect any tolerable phrase to conclude my letterwith, and am forced to tell your ladyship very bluntly,that I am,
Your’s,&C. &c.

LET. XLI.

TO THE COUNTESS OF B——.

AT length I have heard from my dear Lady B——,for the first time. I am persuaded you have hadthe goodness to write before, but I have had the illfortune to lose your letters. Since my last,I have staid (sic) quietly at Constantinople, a citythat I ought in conscience to give your ladyship aright notion of, since I know you can have none butwhat is partial and mistaken from the writings oftravellers. ’Tis certain, there are manypeople that pass years here in Pera, without havingever seen it, and yet they all pretend to describeit. Pera, Tophana, and Galata, wholly inhabitedby French Christians (and which, together, make theappearance of a very fine town,) are divided fromit by the sea, which is not above half so broad asthe broadest part of the Thames; but the Christianmen are loth to hazard the adventures they sometimesmeet with amongst the levents or seamen, (worsemonsters than our watermen) and the women must covertheir faces to go there, which they have a perfectaversion to do. ’Tis true, they wear veilsin Pera, but they are such as only serve to shew theirbeauty to more advantage, and would not be permittedin Constantinople. These reasons deter almostevery creature from seeing it; and the French ambassadresswill return to France (I believe) without ever havingbeen there. You’ll wonder, madam, to hearme add, that I have been there very often. Theasmack, or Turkish veil, is become not onlyvery easy, but agreeable to me; and, if it was not,I would be content to endure some inconveniency, togratify a passion that is become so powerful withme, as curiosity. And, indeed, the pleasure ofgoing in a barge to Chelsea, is not comparable tothat of rowing upon the canal of the sea here, where,for twenty miles together, down the Bosphorus, themost beautiful variety of prospects present themselves. The Asian side is covered with fruit-trees, villages,and the most delightful landskips (sic) in nature;on the European, stands Constantinople, situated onseven hills.—The unequal heights make itseem as large again as it is, (though one of the largestcities in the world) shewing an agreeable mixtureof gardens, pine and cypress-trees, palaces, mosques,and public buildings, raised one above another, withas much beauty and appearance of symmetry, as yourladyship ever saw in a cabinet, adorned by the mostskilful hands, where jars shew themselves above jars,mixed with canisters, babies and candlesticks.This is a very odd comparison; but it gives me an exactidea of the thing. I have taken care to seeas much of the seraglio as is to be seen. Itis on a point of land running into the sea; a palaceof prodigious extent, but very irregular. Thegardens take in a large compass of ground, full ofhigh cypress-trees, which is all I know of them. The buildings are all of white stone, leaded on thetop, with gilded turrets and spires, which look very

magnificent; and, indeed, I believe there is no Christian-king’spalace half so large. There are six large courtsin it, all built round, and set with trees, havinggalleries of stone; one of these for the guard, anotherfor the slaves, another for the officers of the kitchen,another for the stables, the fifth for the divan,and the sixth for the apartment destined for audiences. On the ladies side, there are, at least, as manymore, with distinct courts belonging to their eunuchsand attendants, their kitchens, &c.

THE next remarkable structure is that of St Sophiawhich is very difficult to see. I was forcedto send three times to the caimairam, (thegovernor of the town) and he assembled the chief effendis,or heads of the law, and enquired of the mufti,whether it was lawful to permit it. They passedsome days in this important debate; but I insistingon my request, permission was granted. I can’tbe informed why the Turks are more delicate on thesubject of this mosque, than on any of the others,where what Christian pleases may enter without scruple. I fancy they imagine, that, having been once consecrated,people, on pretence of curiosity, might profane itwith prayers, particularly to those saints, who arestill very visible in Mosaic work, and no other waydefaced but by the decays of time; for it is absolutelyfalse, though so universally asserted, that the Turksdefaced all the images that they found in the city.The dome of St Sophia is said to be one hundred andthirteen feet diameter, built upon arches, sustainedby vast pillars of marble, the pavement and stair-casemarble. There are two rows of galleries, supportedwith pillars of party-coloured (sic) marble, and thewhole roof Mosaic work, part of which decays veryfast, and drops down. They presented me a handfulof it; its composition seems to me a sort of glass,or that paste with which they make counterfeit jewels.They shew here the tomb of the emperor Constantine,for which they have a great veneration.

THIS is a dull, imperfect description, of this celebratedbuilding; but I understand architecture so little,that I am afraid of talking nonsense, in endeavouringto speak of it particularly. Perhaps I am inthe wrong, but some Turkish mosques please me better. That of sultan Solyman is an exact square, with fourfine towers in the angles, in the midst is a noblecupola, supported with beautiful marble pillars; twolesser at the ends, supported in the same manner;the pavement and gallery round the mosque, of marble;under the great cupola is a fountain, adorned withsuch fine coloured pillars, that I can hardly thinkthem natural marble; on one side is the pulpit, ofwhite marble, and on the other, the little galleryfor the grand signior. A fine stair-case leadsto it, and it is built up with gilded lattices. At the upper end is a sort of altar, where the nameof God is written; and before it stand two candlesticks,as high as a man, with wax candles as thick as threeflambeaux. The pavement is spread with finecarpets, and the mosque illuminated with a vast numberof lamps. The court leading to it is very spacious,with galleries of marble, of green columns, coveredwith twenty-eight leaded cupolas on two sides, anda fine fountain of basins in the midst of it.

THIS description may serve for all the mosques inConstantinople. The model is exactly the same,and they only differ in largeness and richness ofmaterials. That of the sultana Valida is thelargest of all, built entirely of marble, the mostprodigious, and, I think, the most beautiful structureI ever saw, be it spoken to the honour of our sex,for it was founded by the mother of Mahomet IV. Between friends, Paul’s church would make apitiful figure near it, as any of our squares woulddo near the atlerdan, or place of horses, (atsignifying a horse in Turkish). This was thehippodrome, in the reign of the Greek emperors. In the midst of it is a brazen column, of three serpentstwisted together, with their mouths gaping. ’Tisimpossible to learn why so odd a pillar was erected;the Greeks can tell nothing but fabulous legends,when they are asked the meaning of it, and there isno sign of its having ever had any inscription. At the upper end is an obelisk of porphyry, probablybrought from Egypt, the hieroglyphics all very entire,which I look upon as mere ancient puns. It isplaced on four little brazen pillars, upon a pedestalof square free stone, full of figures in bas-reliefon two sides; one square representing a battle, anotheran assembly. The others have inscriptions inGreek and Latin; the last I took in my pocket-book,and it is as follows:

Difficilis quondam,dominis parere serenis
Jussus, et extinctis palman portaretyrannis
Omnia Theodosio cedunt, sobolique perenni.

Your lord will interpret these lines. Don’tfancy they are a love-letter to him.

ALL the figures have their heads on; and I cannotforbear reflecting again on the impudence of authors,who all say they have not; but I dare swear the greatestpart of them never saw them; but took the report fromthe Greeks, who resist, with incredible fortitude,the conviction of their own eyes, whenever they haveinvented lies to the dishonour of their enemies. Were you to believe them, there is nothing worthseeing in Constantinople, but Sancta Sophia, thoughthere are several large, and, in my opinion, more beautifulmosques in that city. That of sultan Achmethas this particularity, that its gates are of brass. In all these mosques there are little chapels, whereare the tombs of the founders and their families, withwax candles burning before them.

THE Exchanges are all noble buildings, full of finealleys, the greatest part supported with pillars,and kept wonderfully neat. Every trade has itsdistinct alley, where the merchandize is disposedin the same order as in the New Exchange at London. The besisten, or jeweller’s quarter,shews so much riches, such a vast quantity of diamonds,and all kinds of precious stones, that they dazzlethe sight. The embroiderer’s is also veryglittering, and people walk here as much for diversionas business. The markets are most of them handsomesquares, and admirably well provided, perhaps betterthan in any other part of the world.

I KNOW, you’ll expect I should say somethingparticular of the slaves; and you will imagine mehalf a Turk, when I don’t speak of it with thesame horror other Christians have done before me. But I cannot forbear applauding the humanity of theTurks to these creatures; they are never ill used,and their slavery is, in my opinion, no worse thanservitude all over the world. ’Tis true,they have no wages; but they give them yearly clothesto a higher value than our salaries to our ordinaryservants. But you’ll object, that menbuy women with an eye to evil. In my opinion,they are bought and sold as publicly, and as infamously,in all our Christian great cities.

I MUST add to the description of Constantinople, thatthe historical pillar is no more. Itdropped down about two years before I came to thispart of the world. I have seen no other footstepsof antiquity, except the aqueducts, which are so vast,that I am apt to believe they are yet more ancientthan the Greek empire. The Turks indeed haveclapped in some stones with Turkish inscriptions, togive their natives the honour of so great a work;but the deceit is easily discovered.—Theother public buildings are the hanns and monasteries;the first are very large and numerous; the second fewin number, and not at all magnificent. I hadthe curiosity to visit one of them, and to observethe devotions of the dervises, which are as whimsicalas any at Rome. These fellows have permissionto marry, but are confined to an odd habit, whichis only a piece of coarse white cloth, wrapped aboutthem, with their legs and arms naked. Their orderhas few other rules, except that of performing theirfantastic rites, every Tuesday and Friday, which isdone in this manner: They meet together in alarge hall, where they all stand with their eyes fixedon the ground, and their arms across, while the imaumor preacher reads part of the alcoran from a pulpitplaced in the midst; and when he has done, eight orten of them make a melancholy concert with their pipes,which are no unmusical instruments. Then hereads again, and makes a short exposition on whathe has read; after which they sing and play, ’tilltheir superior (the only one of them dressed in green)rises and begins a sort of solemn dance. Theyall stand about him in a regular figure; and whilesome play, the others tie their robe (which is verywide) fast round their waist, and begin to turn roundwith an amazing swiftness, and yet with great regardto the music, moving slower or faster as the tuneis played. This lasts above an hour, withoutany of them shewing the least appearance of giddiness,which is not to be wondered at, when it is consideredthey are all used to it from their infancy; most ofthem being devoted to this way of life from theirbirth. There turned amongst them some littledervises, of six or seven years old, who seemed nomore disordered by that exercise than the others.

At the end of the ceremony, they shout out, Thereis no other god, but God, and Mahomet his prophet;after which, they kiss the superior’s hand,and retire. The whole is performed with themost solemn gravity. Nothing can be more austerethan the form of these people; they never raise theireyes, and seem devoted to contemplation. Andas ridiculous as this is in description, there issomething touching in the air of submission and mortificationthey assume.—This letter is of a horriblelength; but you may burn it when you have read enough,&c. &c.

LET. XLII.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

I AM now preparing to leave Constantinople, and perhapsyou will accuse me of hypocrisy, when I tell you ’tiswith regret, but as I am used to the air, and havelearnt the language, I am easy here; and as much asI love travelling, I tremble at the inconvenienciesattending so great a journey, with a numerous family,and a little infant hanging at the breast. However,I endeavour, upon this occasion, to do, as I havehitherto done in all the odd turns of my life; turnthem, if I can, to my diversion. In order tothis, I ramble every day, wrapped up in my serigeeand asmack, about Constantinople, and amusemyself with seeing all that is curious in it. I know you will expect that this declaration shouldbe followed with some account of what I have seen. But I am in no humour to copy what has been writso often over. To what purpose should I tellyou, that Constantinople is the ancient Byzantium?that ’tis at present the conquest of a raceof people, supposed Scythians? that there are fiveor six thousand mosques in it? that Sancta Sophia wasfounded by Justinian? &c. I’ll assureyou, ’tis not for want of learning, that I forbearwriting all these bright things. I could also,with very little trouble, turn over Knolles and SirPaul Rycaut, to give you a list of Turkish emperors;but I will not tell you what you may find in everyauthor that has writ of this country. I am moreinclined, out of a true female spirit of contradiction,to tell you the falsehood of a great part of whatyou find in authors; as, for instance, in the admirableMr Hill, who so gravely asserts, that he saw, in SanctaSophia, a sweating pillar, very balsamic for disorderedheads. There is not the least tradition of anysuch matter; and I suppose it was revealed to himin vision, during his wonderful stay in the Egyptiancatacombs; for I am sure he never heard of any suchmiracle here. ’Tis also very pleasant toobserve how tenderly he and all his brethren voyage-writerslament the miserable confinement of the Turkish ladies,who are perhaps more free than any ladies in the universe,and are the only women in the world that lead a lifeof uninterrupted pleasure, exempt from cares; theirwhole time being spent in visiting, bathing, or theagreeable amusem*nt of spending money, and inventingnew fashions. A husband would be thought mad,

that exacted any degree of economy from his wife,whose expences are no way limited but by her own fancy. ’Tis his business to get money, and hers tospend it: and this noble prerogative extendsitself to the very meanest of the sex. Here isa fellow that carries embroidered handkerchiefs uponhis back to sell. And as miserable a figure asyou may suppose such a mean dealer, yet, I’llassure you, his wife scorns to wear any thing lessthan cloth of gold; has her ermine furs, and a veryhandsome set of jewels for her head. ’Tistrue, they have no places but the bagnios, and thesecan only be seen by their own sex; however, that isa diversion they take great pleasure in.

I WAS, three days ago, at one of the finest in thetown, and had the opportunity of seeing a Turkishbride received there, and all the ceremony used onthat occasion, which made me recollect the epithalamiumof Helen, by Theocritus; and it seems to me, that thesame customs have continued ever since. All theshe-friends, relations and acquaintance of the twofamilies, newly allied, meet at the bagnio; severalothers go, out Of curiosity, and I believe there werethat day two hundred women. Those that were,or had been married, placed themselves round the rooms,on the marble sofas; but the virgins very hastilythrew off their clothes, and appeared without otherornament or covering, than their own long hair braidedwith pearl or ribbon. Two of them met the brideat the door, conducted by her mother and another graverelation. She was a beautiful maid of aboutseventeen, very richly dressed, and shining with jewels,but was presently reduced to the state of nature. Two others filled silver gilt pots with perfume,and began the procession, the rest following in pairs,to the number of thirty. The leaders sung anepithalamium, answered by the others in chorus, andthe two last led the fair bride, her eyes fixed onthe ground, with a charming affectation of modesty. In this order they marched round the three largestrooms of the bagnio. ’Tis not easy torepresent to you the beauty of this sight, most ofthem being well proportioned and white skinned; allof them perfectly smooth and polished by the frequentuse of bathing. After having made their tour,the bride was again led to every matron round the rooms,who saluted her with a compliment and a present, someof jewels, others of pieces of stuff, handkerchiefsor little gallantries of that nature, which she thankedthem for, by kissing their hands. I was verywell pleased with having seen this ceremony; and youmay believe me, the Turkish ladies have, at least,as much wit and civility, nay liberty, as among us. ’Tis true, the same customs that give them somany opportunities of gratifying their evil inclinations(if they have any), also put it very fully in thepower of their husbands to revenge themselves, ifthey are discovered; and I do not doubt, but theysuffer sometimes for their indiscretions in a very

severe manner. About two months ago, there wasfound at day break, not very far from my house, thebleeding body of a young woman, naked, only wrappedin a course sheet, with two wounds of a knife, onein her side, and another in her breast. Shewas not quite cold, and was so surprisingly beautiful,that there were very few men in Pera, that did notgo to look upon her; but it was not possible for anybody to know her, no woman’s face being known. She was supposed to have been brought, in the deadof the night, from the Constantinople side, and laidthere. Very little inquiry was made about themurderer, and the corpse was privately buried withoutnoise. Murder is never pursued by the king’sofficers, as with us. ’Tis the businessof the next relations to revenge the dead person;and if they like better to compound the matter formoney (as they generally do) there is no more saidof it. One would imagine this defect in theirgovernment should make such tragedies very frequent,yet they are extremely rare; which is enough to provethe people are not naturally cruel. Neither doI think, in many other particulars, they deserve thebarbarous character we give them. I am wellacquainted with a Christian woman of quality, whomade it her choice to live with a Turkish husband,and is a very agreeable sensible lady. Her storyis so extraordinary, I cannot forbear relating it;but I promise you, it shall be in as few words asI can possibly 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 a felucca, accompanied by herbrother, they were attacked by the Turkish admiral,boarded and taken.—And now how shall I modestlytell you the rest of her adventure? The sameaccident happened to her, that happened to the fairLucretia so many years before her. But she wastoo good a Christian to kill herself, as that heathenishRoman did. The admiral was so much charmed withthe beauty and long-suffering of the fair captive,that, as his first compliment, he gave immediate libertyto her brother and attendants, who made haste to Spain,and, in a few months, sent the sum of four thousandpounds sterling, as a ransom for his sister. The Turk took the money, which he presented to her,and told her she was at liberty. But the ladyvery discreetly weighed the different treatment shewas likely to find in her native country. Herrelations (as the kindest thing they could do forher in her present circ*mstances) would certainlyconfine her to a nunnery for the rest of her days.—Herinfidel lover was very handsome, very tender, veryfond of her, and lavished at her feet all the Turkishmagnificence. She answered him very resolutely,that her liberty was not so precious to her as herhonour; that he could no way restore that, but by marryingher; and she therefore desired him to accept the ransomas her portion, and give her the satisfaction of knowing,

that no man could boast of her favours, without beingher husband. The admiral was transported atthis 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 had reason to repentthe choice she made. He left her, some yearsafter, one of the richest widows in Constantinople. But there is no remaining honourably a single woman,and that consideration has obliged her to marry thepresent captain bassa (i.e. admiral) his successor.—Iam afraid that you will think my friend fell in lovewith her ravisher; but I am willing to take her wordfor it, that she acted wholly on principles of honour,though I think she might be reasonably touched athis generosity, which is often found amongst the Turksof rank.

’TIS a degree of generosity to tell the truth,and ’tis very rare that any Turk will asserta solemn falsehood. I don’t speak of thelowest sort; for as there is a great deal of ignorance,there is very little virtue amongst them; and falsewitnesses are much cheaper than in Christendom; thosewretches not being punished (even when they are publiclydetected) with the rigour they ought to be.

NOW I am speaking of their law, I don’t knowwhether I have ever mentioned to you one custom peculiarto their country, I mean adoption, very commonamongst the Turks, and yet more amongst the Greeksand Armenians. Not having it in their power togive their estates to a friend or distant relation;to avoid its falling into the grand signior’streasury, when they are not likely to have any childrenof their own, they chuse some pretty child of eithersex, amongst the meanest people, and carry the childand its parents before the cadi, and there declarethey receive it for their heir. The parents,at the same time, renounce all future claim to it;a writing is drawn and witnessed, and a child thusadopted, cannot be disinherited. Yet I haveseen some common beggars, that have refused to partwith their children in this manner, to some of therichest among the Greeks; (so powerful is the instinctiveaffection that is natural to parents!) though theadopting fathers are generally very tender to thesechildren of their souls, as they call them. I own this custom pleases me much better than ourabsurd one of following our name. Methinks,’tis much more reasonable to make happy andrich an infant whom I educate after my own manner,brought up (in the Turkish phrase) uponmy knees, and who has learned to look upon mewith a filial respect, than to give an estate to acreature, without other merit or relation to me, thanthat of a few letters. Yet this is an absurditywe see frequently practised.—Now I havementioned the Armenians, perhaps it will be agreeableto tell you something of that nation, with which Iam sure you are utterly unacquainted. I willnot trouble you with the geographical account of the

situation of their country, which you may see in themaps; or a relation of their ancient greatness, whichyou may read in the Roman history. They arenow subject to the Turks; and, being very industriousin trade, and increasing and multiplying, are dispersedin great numbers through all the Turkish dominions. They were, as they say, converted to the Christianreligion by St Gregory, and are perhaps the devoutest(sic), Christians in the whole world. The chiefprecepts of their priests enjoin the strict keepingof their lents, which are, at least seven months inevery year, and are not to be dispensed with on themost emergent necessity; no occasion whatever canexcuse them, if they touch any thing more than mereherbs or roots (without oil) and plain dry bread. That is their constant diet.—Mr W——yhas one of his interpreters of this nation, and thepoor fellow was brought so low, by the severity ofhis fasts, that his life was despaired of. Yetneither his master’s commands, nor the doctor’sentreaties (who declared nothing else could save hislife) were powerful enough to prevail with him to taketwo or three spoonfuls of broth. Excepting this,which may rather be called a custom than an articleof faith, I see very little in their religion differentfrom ours. ’Tis true, they seem to inclinevery much to Mr Whiston’s doctrine; neitherdo I think the Greek church very distant from it,since ’tis certain, the holy Spirit’s proceedingonly from the Father, is making a plain subordinationin the Son.—But the Armenians have no notionof transubstantiation, whatever account Sir Paul Rycautgives of them, (which account, I am apt to believe,was designed to compliment our Court in 1679;) andthey have a great horror for those amongst them, thatchange to the Roman religion. What is most extraordinaryin their customs, is their matrimony; a ceremony,I believe, unparallell’d (sic) all over the world. They are always promised very young; but the espousednever see one another, till three days after theirmarriage. The bride is carried to church, witha cap on her head, in the fashion of a large trencher,and over it a red silken veil, which covers her allover to her feet. The priest asks the bridegroom,Whether he is contented to marry that woman, beshe deaf, be she blind? These are the literalwords: to which having answered, yes, sheis led home to his house, accompanied with all thefriends and relations on both sides, singing and dancing,and is placed on a cushion in the corner of the sofa;but her veil is never lifted up, not even by her husband. There is something so odd and monstrous in theseways, that I could not believe them, till I had inquiredof several Armenians myself, who all assured me ofthe truth of them, particularly one young fellow,who wept when he spoke of it, being promised by hismother to a girl that he must marry in this manner,though he protested to me, he had rather die thansubmit to this slavery, having already figured hisbride to himself with all the deformities of nature.—Ifancy I see you bless yourself at this terrible relation. I cannot conclude my letter with a more surprisingstory; yet ’tis as seriously true, as that Iam, Dear sister, yours,&c. &c.

LET. XLIII

TO THE ABBOT OF ——.

Constantinople, May 19. O. S. 1718.

I AM extremely pleased with hearing from you, andmy vanity (the darling frailty of mankind) not a littleflattered by the uncommon questions you ask me, thoughI am utterly incapable of answering them. And,indeed, were I as good a mathematician as Euclid himself,it requires an age’s stay to make just observationson the air and vapours. I have not been yeta full year here, and am on the point of removing. Such is my rambling destiny. This will surpriseyou, and can surprise no body so much as myself. Perhaps you will accuse me of laziness, or dulness(sic), or both together, that can leave this place,without giving you some account of the Turkish court. I can only tell you, that if you please to read SirPaul Rycaut, you will there find a full and true accountof the vizier’s, the beglerbys, the civiland spiritual government, the officers of the seraglio,&c. things that ’tis very easy to procure listsof, and therefore may be depended on; though otherstories, God knows—I say no more—everybody is at liberty to write their own remarks; themanners of people may change; or some of them escapethe observation of travellers; but ’tis notthe same of the government; and, for that reason,since I can tell you nothing new, I will tell you nothingof it. In the same silence shall be passed overthe arsenal and seven towers; and for mosques, I havealready described one of the noblest to you very particularly. But I cannot forbear taking notice to you of a mistakeof Gemelli, (though I honour him in a much higher degreethan any other voyage-writer:) he says that there areno remains of Calcedon; this is certainly a mistake:I was there, yesterday, and went cross the canal inmy galley, the sea being very narrow between thatcity and Constantinople. ’Tis still a largetown, and has several mosques in it. The Christiansstill call it Calcedonia, and the Turks give it aname I forgot, but which is only a corruption of thesame word. I suppose this is an error of hisguide, which his short stay hindered him from rectifying,for I have, in other matters, a very just esteem forhis veracity. Nothing can be pleasanter thanthe canal; and the Turks are so well acquainted withits beauties, that all their pleasure-seats are builton its banks, where they have, at the same time, themost beautiful prospects in Europe and Asia; thereare near one another some hundreds of magnificentpalaces. Human grandeur being here yet more unstablethan any where else, ’tis common for the heirsof a great three-tailed bassa, not to be rich enoughto keep in repair the house he built; thus, in a fewyears, they all fall to ruin. I was yesterdayto see that of the late grand Vizier, who was killedat Peterwaradin. It was built to receive hisroyal bride, daughter of the present sultan; but he

did not live to see her there. I have a greatmind to describe it to you; but I check that inclination,knowing very well, that I cannot give you, with mybest description, such an idea of it as I ought. It is situated on one of the most delightful partsof the canal, with a fine wood on the side of a hillbehind it. The extent of it is prodigious; theguardian assured me, there are eight hundred roomsin it; I will not, however, answer for that number,since I did not count them; but ’tis certainthe number is very large, and the whole adorned witha profusion of marble, gilding, and the most exquisitepainting of fruit and flowers. The windows areall sashed with the finest crystalline glass broughtfrom England; and here is all the expensive magnificencethat you can suppose in a palace founded by a vainluxurious young man, with the wealth of a vast empireat his command. But no part of it pleased mebetter than the apartments destined for the bagnios. There are two built exactly in the same manner, answeringto one another; the baths, fountains, and pavements,all of white marble, the roofs gilt, and the wallscovered with Japan china. Adjoining to them aretwo rooms, the uppermost of which is divided intoa sofa, and in the four corners are falls of waterfrom the very roof, from shell to shell, of whitemarble, to the lower end of the room, where it fallsinto a large basin, surrounded with pipes, that throwup the water as high as the roof. The wallsare in the nature of lattices; and, on the outsideof them, there are vines and woodbines planted, thatform a sort of green tapestry, and give an agreeableobscurity to those delightful chambers. I shouldgo on and let you into some of the other apartments(all worthy your curiosity); but ’tis yet harderto describe a Turkish palace than any other, beingbuilt entirely irregular. There is nothing thatcan be properly called front or wings; and thoughsuch a confusion is, I think, pleasing to the sight,yet it would be very unintelligible in a letter. I shall only add, that the chamber destined for thesultan, when he visits his daughter, is wainscottedwith mother of pearl, fastened with emeralds likenails. There are others of mother of pearl andolive wood inlaid, and several of Japan china. The galleries, which are numerous, and very large,are adorned with jars of flowers, and porcelain dishesof fruit of all sorts, so well done in plaster, andcoloured in so lively a manner, that it has an enchantingeffect. The garden is suitable to the house,where arbours, fountains, and walks, are thrown togetherin an agreeable confusion. There is no ornamentwanting, except that of statues. Thus, you see,Sir, these people are not so unpolished as we representthem. ’Tis true, their magnificence isof a very different taste from ours, and perhaps ofa better. I am almost of opinion, they have aright notion of life. They consume it in music,gardens, wine, and delicate eating, while we are tormentingour brains with some scheme of politics, or studyingsome science to which we can never attain; or, if wedo, cannot persuade other people to set that valueupon it we do ourselves. ’Tis certain,what we feel and see is properly (if any thing isproperly) our own; but the good of fame, the follyof praise, are hardly purchased, and, when obtained,a poor recompence (sic) for loss of time and health. We die or grow old before we can reap the fruit ofour labours. Considering what short-liv’d,weak animals men are, is there any study so beneficialas the study of present pleasure? I dare notpursue this theme; perhaps I have already said toomuch, but I depend upon the true knowledge you haveof my heart. I don’t expect from you theinsipid railleries I should suffer from another inanswer to this letter. You know how to dividethe idea of pleasure from that of vice, and they areonly mingled in the heads of fools.—ButI allow you to laugh at me for the sensual declarationin saying, that I had rather be a rich effendi,with all his ignorance, than Sir Isaac Newton withall his knowledge.
Iam, Sir, &c. &c.

LET. XLIV.

TO THE ABBOT OF ——.

Tunis, July 31. O. S. 1718

I LEFT Constantinople the sixth of the last month,and this is the first post from whence I could senda letter, though I have often wished for the opportunity,that I might impart some of the pleasure I found inthis voyage, through the most agreeable part of theworld, where every scene presents me some poeticalidea,

Warm’dwith poetic transport I survey
Th’immortal islands, and the well known sea.
Forhere so oft the muse her harp has strung,
Thatnot a mountain rears its head unsung.

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 Gallipolis,a fair city, situated in the bay of Chersonesus, andmuch respected by the Turks, being the first townthey took in Europe. At five the next morning,we anchored in the Hellespont, between the castlesof Sestos and Abydos, now called the Dardanelli. These are now two little ancient castles, but of nostrength, being commanded by a rising ground behindthem, which, I confess, I should never have takennotice of, if I had not heard it observed by our captainand officers, my imagination being wholly employedby the tragic story, that you are well acquainted with:

Theswimming lover, and the nightly bride,
HowHERO lov’d, and how LEANDER died.

Verse again!—I am certainly infected bythe poetical air I have passed through. Thatof Abydos is undoubtedly very amorous, since thatsoft passion betrayed the castle into the hands ofthe Turks who besieged it in the reign of Orchanes. The governor’s daughter, imagining to haveseen her future husband in a dream, (though I don’tfind she had either slept upon bride-cake, or keptSt Agnes’s fast) fancied she saw the dear figurein the form of one of her besiegers; and, being willingto obey her destiny, tossed a note to him over thewall, with the offer of her person, and the deliveryof the castle. He shewed it to his general, whoconsented to try the sincerity of her intentions,and withdrew his army, ordering the young man to returnwith a select body of men at midnight. She admittedhim at the appointed hour; he destroyed the garrison,took the father prisoner, and made her his wife. This town is in Asia, first founded by the Milesians. Sestos is in Europe, and was once the principal cityof Chersonesus. Since I have seen this strait,I find nothing improbable in the adventure of Leander,or very wonderful in the bridge of boats of Xerxes. ’Tis so narrow, ’tis not surprising ayoung lover should attempt to swim, or an ambitiousking try to pass his army over it. But then,’tis so subject to storms, ’tis no wonderthe lover perished, and the bridge was broken. From hence we had a full view of mount Ida;

WhereJuno once caress’d her am’rous Jove,
Andthe world’s master lay subdu’d by love.

Not many leagues sail from hence, I saw the pointof land where poor old Hecuba was buried, and abouta league from that place is Cape Janizary, the famouspromontory of Sigaeum, where we anchored. Mycuriosity supplied me with strength to climb to thetop of it, to see the place where Achilles was buried,and where Alexander ran naked round his tomb, in honourof him, which, no doubt, was a great comfort to hisghost. I saw there the ruins of a very largecity, and found a stone, on which Mr W——yplainly distinguished the words of Sigaen Polin. We ordered this on board the ship; but were shewedothers much more curious by a Greek priest, tho’a very ignorant fellow, that could give no tolerableaccount of any thing. On each side the door ofthis little church ly two large stones, about tenfeet long each, five in breadth, and three in thickness.That on the right is a very fine white marble, theside of it beautifully carved in bas-relief; it representsa woman, who seems to be designed for some deity,sitting on a chair with a footstool, and before heranother woman, weeping, and presenting to her a youngchild that she has in her arms, followed by a processionof women with children in the same manner. Thisis certainly part of a very ancient tomb; but I darenot pretend to give the true explanation of it. On the stone, on the left side, is a very fair inscription;but the Greek is too ancient for Mr W——y’sinterpretation. I am very sorry not to havethe original in my possession, which might have beenpurchased of the poor inhabitants for a small sum ofmoney. But our captain assured us, that withouthaving machines made on purpose, ’twas impossibleto bear it to the sea-side; and, when it was there,his long-boat would not be large enough to hold it.

THE ruins of this great city are now inhabited bypoor Greek peasants, who wear the Sciote habit, thewomen being in short petticoats, fastened by strapsround their shoulders, and large smock sleeves ofwhite linen, with neat shoes and stockings, and ontheir heads a large piece of muslin, which falls inlarge folds on their shoulders.—One ofmy countrymen, Mr Sands, (whose book I doubt not youhave read, as one of the best of its kind) speakingof these ruins, supposes them to have been the foundationof a city begun by Constantine, before his buildingByzantium; 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 riverSimois rolling from mount Ida, and running througha very spacious valley. It is now a considerableriver, and is called Simores, it is joined in thevale by the Scamander, which appeared a small streamhalf choaked (sic) with mud, but is perhaps largein the winter. This was Xanthus amongst thegods, as Homer tells us; and ’tis by that heavenlyname, the nymph Oenone invokes it, in her epistleto Paris. The Trojan virgins used to offer theirfirst favours to it, by the name of Scamander, tillthe adventure, which Monsieur de la Fontaine has toldso agreeably, abolish’d that heathenish ceremony. When the stream is mingled with the Simois, theyrun together to the sea.

ALL that is now left of Troy is the ground on whichit stood; for, I am firmly persuaded, whatever piecesof antiquity may be found round it, are much moremodern, and I think Strabo says the same thing.However, there is some pleasure in seeing the valleywhere I imagined the famous duel of Menelaus and Parishad been fought, and where the greatest city in theworld was situated. ’Tis certainly thenoblest situation that can be found for the head ofa great empire, much to be preferred to that of Constantinople,the harbour here being always convenient for shipsfrom all parts of the world, and that of Constantinopleinaccessible almost six months in the year, while thenorth-wind reigns.

NORTH of the promontory of Sigaeum we saw that ofRhaeteum, famed for the sepulchre of Ajax. WhileI viewed these celebrated fields and rivers, I admiredthe exact geography of Homer, whom I had in my hand. Almost every epithet he gives to a mountain or plain,is still just for it; and I spent several hours herein as agreeable cogitations, as ever Don Quixote hadon mount Montesinos. We sailed next night tothe shore, where ’tis vulgarly reported Troystood; and I took the pains of rising at two in themorning to view cooly those ruins which are commonlyshewed to strangers, and which the Turks call EskiStamboul, i.e. Old Constantinople. For thatreason, as well as some others, I conjecture themto be the remains of that city begun by Constantine. I hired an ass (the only voiture to be had there)that I might go some miles into the country, and takea tour round the ancient walls, which are of a vastextent. We found the remains of a castle ona hill, and of another in a valley, several brokenpillars and two pedestals, from which I took theseLatin inscriptions:

DIVI. AUG. COL.
ET. COL. IUL. PHILIPPENSIS
EORUNDEM ET PRINCIP. AM
COL. IUL. PARIANAE. TRIBUN.
MILIT. COH. XXXII. VOLUNTAR.
TRIB. MILIT. LEG. XIII.GEM.
PRAEFECTO EQUIT. ALAE. I.
SCUBULORUM
VIC. VIII.

DIVI. IULI. FLAMINI
C. ANTONIO. M. F.
VOLT. RUFO. FLAMIN.
DIV. AUG. COL. CL. APRENS.
ET. COL. IUL. PHILIPPENSIS
EORUNDEM ET PRINCIP. ITEM
COL. IUL. PARIANAE TRIB.
MILIT. COH. XXXII. VOLUNTARIOR.
TRIB. MILIT. XIII.
GEM. PRAEF. EQUIT. ALAE.I.
SCUBULORUM
VIC. VII.

I do not doubt but the remains of a temple near thisplace, are the ruins of one dedicated to Augustus;and I know not why Mr Sands calls it a Christian temple,since the Romans certainly built hereabouts.Here are many tombs of fine marble, and vast piecesof granate (sic), which are daily lessened by theprodigious balls that the Turks make, from them, fortheir cannon. We passed that evening the isleof Tenedos, once under the patronage of Apollo, ashe gave it in, himself, in the particulars of hisestate, when he courted Daphne. It is but tenmiles in circuit, but, in those days, very rich andwell-peopled, still famous for its excellent wine. I say nothing of Tenes, from whom it was called;but naming Mytilene, where we passed next, I cannotforbear mentioning Lesbos, where Sappho sung, andPittacus reigned, famous for the birth of Alcaeus,Theophrastus and Arion, those masters in poetry, philosophy,and music. This was one of the last islandsthat remained in the Christian dominion after theconquest of Constantinople by the Turks. Butneed I talk to you of Catucuseno, &c. princes thatyou are as well acquainted with as I am. ’Twaswith regret I saw us sail from this island into theEgean (sic) sea, now the Archipelago, leaving Scio(the ancient Chios) on the left, which is the richestand most populous of these islands, fruitful in cotton,corn and silk, planted with groves of orange and lemontrees, and the Arvisian mountain, still celebratedfor the nectar that Virgil mentions. Here isthe best manufacture of silks in all Turkey. The town is well built, the women famous for theirbeauty, and shew their faces as in Christendom. There are many rich families; though they confinetheir magnificence to the inside of their houses,to avoid the jealousy of the Turks, who have, a bassahere: however, they enjoy a reasonable liberty,and indulge the genius of their country:

Andeat, and sing, and dance away their time,
Freshas their groves, and happy as their clime.

Their chains hang lightly on them, tho’ ’tisnot long since they were imposed, not being underthe Turk till 1566. But perhaps ’tis aseasy to obey the grand signior as the state of Genoa,to whom they were sold by the Greek emperor. But I forget myself in these historical touches,which are very impertinent when I write to you.Passing the strait between the islands of Andros andAchaia, now Libadia, we saw the promontory of Lunium,now called Cape Colonna, where are yet standing thevast pillars of a temple of Minerva. This venerablesight made me think, with double regret, on a beautifultemple of Theseus, which, I am assured, was almostentire at Athens, till the last campaign in the Morea,that the Turks filled it with powder, and it was accidentallyblown up. You may believe I had a great mindto land on the fam’d Peloponnesus, tho’it were only to look on the rivers of Asopus, Peneus,Inachus and Eurotas, the fields of Arcadia, and otherscenes of ancient mythology. But instead ofdemigods and heroes, I was credibly informed, ’tisnow over-run by robbers, and that I should run a greatrisque (sic) of falling into their hands, by undertakingsuch a journey through a desert country, for which,however, I have so much respect, that I have much adoto hinder myself from troubling you with its wholehistory, from the foundation of Nycana and Corinth,to the last campaign there; but I check the inclination,as I did that of landing. We sailed quietlyby Cape Angelo, once Malea, where I saw no remainsof the famous temple of Apollo. We came thatevening in sight of Candia: it is very mountainous;we easily distinguished that of Ida.—Wehave Virgil’s authority, that here were a hundredcities—

_—Centumurbes habitant magnas—_

The chief of them—the scene of monstrouspassions.—Metellus first conquered thisbirth-place of his Jupiter; it fell afterwards intothe hands of —— I am running on tothe very siege of Candia; and I am so angry with myself,that I will pass by all the other islands with thisgeneral reflection, that ’tis impossible to imagineany thing more agreeable than this journey would havebeen two or three thousand years since, when, afterdrinking a dish of tea with Sappho, I might have gone,the same evening, to visit the temple of Homer inChios, and passed this voyage in taking plans of magnificenttemples, delineating the miracles of statuaries, andconversing with the most polite and most gay of mankind. Alas! art is extinct here; the wonders of naturealone remain; and it was with vast pleasure I observedthose of mount Etna, whose flame appears very brightin the night many leagues off at sea, and fills thehead with a thousand conjectures. However, Ihonour philosophy too much, to imagine it could turnthat of Empedocles; and Lucian shall never make mebelieve such a scandal of a man, of whom, Lucretiussays,

_—Vixhumana videtur stirpe creatus—_

WE passed Trinacria without hearing any of the syrensthat Homer describes; and, being thrown on neitherScylla nor Charybdis, came safe to Malta, first calledMelita, from the abundance of honey. It is awhole rock covered with very little earth. Thegrand master lives here in the state of a sovereignprince; but his strength at sea now is very small. The fortifications are reckoned the best in the world,all cut in the solid rock with infinite expence andlabour.—Off this island we were tossed bya severe storm, and were very glad, after eight days,to be able to put into Porta Farine on the Africanshore, where our ship now rides. At Tunis wewere met by the English consul who resides here. I readily accepted of the offer of his house therefor some days, being very curious to see this partof the world, and particularly the ruins of Carthage. I set out in his chaise at nine at night, the moonbeing at full. I saw the prospect of the countryalmost as well as I could have done by day-light;and the heat of the sun is now so intolerable, ’tisimpossible to travel at any other time. The soilis, for the most part, sandy, but every where fruitfulof date, olive, and fig-trees, which grow withoutart, yet afford the most delicious fruit in the world. There vineyards and melon-fields are inclos’dby hedges of that plant we call Indian-fig, whichis an admirable fence, no wild beast being able topass it. It grows a great height, very thick,and the spikes or thorns are as long and sharp as bodkins;it bears a fruit much eaten by the peasants, and whichhas no ill taste.

IT being now the season of the Turkish ramadan,or Lent, and all here professing, at least the Mahometanreligion, they fast till the going down of the sun,and spend the night in feasting. We saw underthe trees, companies of the country people, eating,singing, and dancing, to their wild music. Theyare not quite black, but all mulattoes, and the mostfrightful creatures that can appear in a human figure. They are almost naked, only wearing a piece of coarseserge wrapped about them.—But the womenhave their arms, to their very shoulders, and theirnecks and faces, adorned with flowers, stars, andvarious sorts of figures impressed by gunpowder; aconsiderable addition to their natural deformity; whichis, however, esteemed very ornamental amongst them;and I believe they suffer a good deal of pain by it.

ABOUT six miles from Tunis, we saw the remains ofthat noble aqueduct, which carried the water to Carthage,over several high mountains, the length of forty miles. There are still many arches entire. We spenttwo hours viewing it with great attention, and MrW——y assured me that of Rome is verymuch inferior to it. The stones are of a prodigioussize, and yet all polished, and so exactly fittedto each other, very little cement has been made useof to join them. Yet they may probably standa thousand years longer, if art is not made use of

to pull them down. Soon after day-break I arrivedat Tunis, a town fairly built of very white stone,but quite without gardens, which, they say, were alldestroyed when the Turks first took it, none havingbeen planted since. The dry land gives a verydisagreeable prospect to the eye; and the want of shadecontributing to the natural heat of the climate, rendersit so excessive, that I have much ado to support it. ’Tis true, here is, every noon, the refreshmentof the sea-breeze, without which it would be impossibleto live; but no fresh water but what is preserved inthe cisterns of the rains that fall in the month ofSeptember. The women of the town go veiled fromhead to foot under a black crape, and being mixed witha breed of renegadoes, are said to be many of themfair and handsome. This city was besieged in1270, by Lewis (sic) king of France, who died underthe walls of it, of a pestilential fever. Afterhis death, Philip, his son, and our prince Edward,son of Henry III. raised the siege on honourable terms. It remained under its natural African kings, tillbetrayed into the hands of Barbarossa, admiral ofSolyman the Magnificent. The emperor CharlesV. expelled Barbarossa, but it was recovered by theTurk, under the conduct of Sinan Bassa, in the reignof Selim II. From that time till now, it hasremained tributary to the grand signior, governedby a bey, who suffers the name of subject tothe Turk, but has renounced the subjection, beingabsolute, and very seldom paying any tribute. The great city of Bagdat (sic) is, at this time,in the same circ*mstances, and the grand signior connivesat the loss of these dominions, for fear of losingeven the titles of them.

I WENT very early yesterday morning (after one night’srepose) to see the ruins of Carthage.—Iwas, however, half broiled in the sun, and overjoyedto be 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 in them many broken piecesof columns of fine marble, and some of porphyry. I cannot think any body would take the insignificantpains of carrying them thither, and I cannot imaginesuch fine pillars were designed for the use of stables. I am apt to believe they Were summer apartments undertheir palaces, which the heat of the climate renderednecessary. They are now used as granaries bythe country people. While I sat here, from thetown of Tents not far off, many of the womenflocked in to see me, and we were equally entertainedwith viewing one another. Their posture in sitting,the colour of their skin, their lank black hair fallingon each side their faces, their features, and theshape of their limbs, differ so little from theircountry-people the baboons, ’tis hard to fancythem a distinct race; I could not help thinking therehad been some ancient alliances between them.

WHEN I was a little refreshed by rest, and some milkand exquisite fruit they brought me, I went up thelittle hill where once stood the castle of Byrsa,and from thence I had a distinct view of the situationof the famous city of Carthage, which stood on an isthmus,the sea coming on each side of it. ’Tisnow a marshy ground on one side, where there are saltponds. Strabo calls Carthage forty miles incircumference. There are now no remains of it,but what I have described; and the history of it istoo well known to want my abridgement of it. You see, Sir, that I think you esteem obedience betterthan compliments. I have answered your letterby giving you the accounts you desired, and have reservedmy thanks to the conclusion. I intend to leavethis place to-morrow, and continue my journey throughItaly and France. In one of those places I hopeto tell you, by word of mouth, that I am, Your humbleservant, &c. &c.

LET. XLV

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Genoa, Aug. 28. O. S. 1718

I BEG your pardon, my dear sister, that I did notwrite to you from Tunis, the only opportunity I havehad since I left Constantinople. But the heatthere was so excessive, and the light so bad for thesight, I was half blind by writing one letter to theAbbot ——, and durst not go to writemany others I had designed; nor indeed could I haveentertained you very well out of that barbarous country. I am now surrounded with subjects of pleasure, andso much charmed with the beauties of Italy, that Ishould think it a kind of ingratitude not to offera little praise in return for the diversion I havehad here.—I am in the house of Mrs D’Avenantat St Pierre d’Arena, and should be very unjustnot to allow her a share of that praise I speak of,since her good humour and good company have very muchcontributed to render this place agreeable to me.

GENOA is situated in a very fine bay; and being builton a rising hill, extermixed (sic) with gardens, andbeautified with the most excellent architecture, givesa very fine prospect off at sea; though it lost muchof its beauty in my eyes, having been accustomed tothat of Constantinople. The Genoese were oncemasters of several islands in the Archipelago, andall that part of Constantinople which is now calledGalata. Their betraying the Christian cause,by facilitating the taking of Constantinople by theTurk, deserved what has since happened to them, eventhe loss of all their conquests on that side to thoseinfidels. They are at present far from rich,and are despised by the French, since their doge wasforced by the late king to go in person to Paris,to ask pardon for such a trifle as the arms of Franceover the house of the envoy, being spattered with dungin the night. This, I suppose, was done by someof the Spanish faction, which still makes up the majorityhere, though they dare not openly declare it.

The ladies affect the French habit, and are more genteelthan those they imitate. I do not doubt but thecustom of Cizisbei’s has very much improvedtheir airs. I know not whether you ever heardof those animals. Upon my word, nothing but myown eyes could have convinced me there were any suchupon earth. The fashion began here, and is nowreceived all over Italy, where the husbands are notsuch terrible creatures as we represent them. There are none among them such brutes, as to pretendto find fault with a custom so well established, andso politically founded, since I am assured, that itwas an expedient, first found out by the senate, toput an end to those family hatreds, which tore theirstate to pieces, and to find employment for thoseyoung men who were forced to cut one another’sthroats, pour passer le temps: and it hassucceeded so well, that since the institution of Cizisbei,there has been nothing but peace and good humour amongstthem. These are gentlemen who devote themselvesto the service of a particular lady (I mean a marriedone) for the virgins are all invisible, and confinedto convents: They are obliged to wait on herto all public places, such as the plays, operas, andassemblies, (which are called here Conversations)where they wait behind her chair, take care of herfan and gloves, if she plays, have the privilege ofwhispers, &c.—When she goes out, they serveher instead of lacquies (sic), gravely trotting byher chair. ’Tis their business to preparefor her a present against any day of public appearance,not forgetting that of her own name [Footnote:That is, the day of the saint after whom she is called.];in short, they are to spend all their time and moneyin her service, who rewards them accordingly (foropportunity they want none) but the husband is notto have the impudence to suppose this any other thanpure Platonic friendship. ’Tis true, theyendeavour to give her a Cizisbei of their own chusing;but when the lady happens not to be of the same taste,as that often happens, she never fails to bring itabout to have one of her own fancy. In formertimes, one beauty used to have eight or ten of thesehumble admirers; but those days of plenty and humilityare no more. Men grow more scarce and saucy,and every lady is forced to content herself with oneat a time.

You may see in this place the glorious libertyof a republic, or more properly, an aristocracy, thecommon 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 wife,at that very time, assumes no rank above another noblelady. ’Tis true, the family of AndreaDoria (that great man, who restored them that libertythey enjoy) have some particular privileges. When the senate found it necessary to put a stop tothe luxury of dress, forbidding the wearing of jewelsand brocades, they left them at liberty to make what

expence they pleased. I look with great pleasureon the statue of that hero, which is in the courtbelonging to the house of duke Doria. This putsme in mind of their palaces, which I can never describeas I ought.—Is it not enough, that I say,they are, most of them, the design of Palladio? The street called Strada Nova, is perhaps the mostbeautiful line of building in the world. I mustparticularly mention the vast palaces of Durazzo, thoseof the two Balbi, joined together by a magnificentcolonade (sic), that of the Imperiale at this villageof St Pierre d’Arena, and another of the Doria. The perfection of architecture, and the utmost profusionof rich furniture are to be seen here, disposed withthe most elegant taste, and lavish magnificence. But I am charmed with nothing so much as the collectionof pictures by the pencils of Raphael, Paulo Veronese,Titian, Caracci, Michael Angelo, Guido, and Corregio,which two I mention last as my particular favourites. I own, I can find no pleasure in objects of horror;and, in my opinion, the more naturally a crucifixis represented, the more disagreeable it is. These, my beloved painters, shew nature, and shewit in the most charming light. I was particularlypleased with a Lucretia in the house of Balbi; theexpressive beauty of that face and bosom, gives allthe passion of pity and adoration, that could be raisedin the soul, by the finest artist on that subject. A Cleopatra of the same hand, deserves to be mentioned;and I should say more of her if Lucretia had not firstengaged my eyes.—Here are also some inestimableancient bustos (sic).—The church of St Lawrenceis built of black and white marble, where is keptthat famous plate of a single emerald, which is notnow permitted to be handled, since a plot, which,they say, was discovered, to throw it on the pavementand break it; a childish piece of malice, which theyascribe to the king of Sicily, to be revenged fortheir refusing to sell it to him. The churchof the annunciation is finely lined with marble; thepillars are of red and white marble; that of St Ambrosehas been very much adorned by the Jesuits; but I confess,all the churches appeared so mean to me, after thatof Sancta Sophia, I can hardly do them the honourof writing down their names. But I hope you willown, I have made good use of my time, in seeing somuch, since ’tis not many days that we havebeen out of the quarantine, from which no body isexempted coming from the Levant. Ours, indeed,was very much shortened, and very agreeably passedin Mrs D’Avenant’s company, in the villageof St Pierre d’Arena, about a mile from Genoa,in a house built by Palladio, so well designed, andso nobly proportioned, ’twas a pleasure to walkin it. We were visited here only by a few English,in the company of a noble Genoese; commissioned tosee we did not touch one another.—I shallstay here some days longer, and could almost wish*t were for all my life; but mine, I fear, is notdestined to so much tranquillity. I am, &c. &c.

LET. XLVI.

TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Turin, Sept. 12. O. S. 1718.

I CAME in two days from Genoa, through fine roads,to this place. I have already seen what is shewedto strangers in the town, which, indeed, is not wortha very particular description; and I have not respectenough for the holy handkerchief, to speak long ofit. The churches are handsome, and so is theking’s palace; but I have lately seen such perfectionof architecture, I did not give much of my attentionto these pieces. The town itself is fairly built,situated in a fine plain on the banks of the Po. At a little distance from it, we saw the palacesof La Venerie, and La Valentin, both very agreeableretreats. We were lodged in the Piazza Royale,which is one of the noblest squares I ever saw, witha fine portico of white stone quite round it. We were immediately visited by the Chevalier ——,whom you knew in England; who, with great civility,begged to introduce us at Court, which is now keptat Rivoli, about a league from Turin. I wentthither yesterday, and had the honour of waiting onthe queen, being presented to her by her first ladyof honour. I found her majesty in a magnificentapartment, with a train of handsome ladies, all dressedin gowns, amongst which it was easy to distinguishthe fair princess of Carignan. The queen entertainedme with a world of sweetness and affability, and seemedmistress of a great share of good sense. Shedid not forget to put me in mind of her English blood;and added, that she always felt in herself a particularinclination to love the English. I returned hercivility, by giving her the title of majesty, as oftenas I could, which, perhaps, she will not have thecomfort of hearing many months longer.—Theking has a great deal of vivacity in his eyes; andthe young prince of Piedmont is a very handsome youngman; but the great devotion which this Court is, atpresent, fallen into, does not permit any of thoseentertainments proper for his age. Processionsand masses are all the magnificence in fashion here;and gallantry is so criminal, that the poor Countof ——, who was our acquaintance atLondon, is very seriously disgraced, for some smallovertures he presumed to make to a maid of honour. I intend to set out tomorrow, and to pass those dreadfulAlps, so much talked of.—If I come to thebottom, you shall hear of me.—I am, &c.&c.

LET. XLVII.

TO MRS T——.

Lyons, Sept, 25. O. S. 1718.

I RECEIVED, at my arrival here, both your obligingletters, and also letters from many of my other friends,designed to Constantinople, and sent me from Marseillesh*ther; our merchant there, knowing we were upon ourreturn. I am surprised to hear my sister hasleft England. I suppose what I wrote to herfrom Turin will be lost, and where to direct I knownot, having no account of her affairs from her ownhand. For my own part, I am confined to my chamber,

having kept my bed till yesterday, ever since the17th, that I came to this town, where I have had soterrible a fever, I believed, for some time, thatall my journeys were ended here; and I do not at allwonder, that such fatigues as I have passed, shouldhave such an effect. The first day’s journeyfrom Turin to Novalesse, is through a very fine country,beautifully planted, and enriched by art and nature. The next day we began to ascend mount Cenis, beingcarried in little seats of twisted osiers, fixed uponpoles, upon mens shoulders; our chaises taken to pieces,and laid upon mules.

THE prodigious prospect of mountains covered witheternal snow, of clouds hanging far below our feet,and of vast cascades tumbling down the rocks witha confused roaring, would have been entertaining tome, if I had suffered less from the extreme cold thatreigns here. But the misty rains which fall perpetually,penetrated even the thick fur I was wrapped in; andI was half dead with cold, before we got to the footof the mountain, which was not till two hours afterdark. This hill has a spacious plain on the topof it, and a fine lake there; but the descent is sosteep and slippery, ’tis surprising to see thesechairmen go so steadily as they do. Yet I wasnot half so much afraid of breaking my neck, as Iwas of falling sick; and the event has shewed, thatI placed my fears right.

THE other mountains are now all passable for a chaise,and very fruitful in vines and pastures: Amongstthem is a breed of the finest goats in the world. Acquebellet is the last, and soon after we enteredPont Beauvoisin, the frontier town of France, whosebridge parts this kingdom, and the dominions of Savoy. The same night we arrived late at this town, whereI have had nothing to do, but to take care of my health. I think myself already out of any danger; and amdetermined, that the sore throat, which still remains,shall not confine me long. I am impatient tosee the curiosities of this famous city, and moreimpatient to continue my journey to Paris, from whenceI hope to write you a more diverting letter than ’tispossible for me to do now, with a mind weakened bysickness, a head muddled with spleen, from a sorryinn, and a chamber crammed with mortifying objectsof apothecaries vials and bottles.—I am,&c. &c.

LET. XLVIII.

TO MR POPE.

Lyons, Sept. 28. O. S. 1718.

I RECEIVED yours here, and should thank you for thepleasure you seem to enjoy from my return; but I canhardly forbear being angry at you for rejoicing atwhat displeases me so much. You will think thisbut an odd compliment on my side. I’llassure you, ’tis not from insensibility of thejoy of seeing my friends; but when I consider, thatI must, at the same time, see and hear a thousand disagreeableimpertinents; that I must receive and pay visits, makecourtesies and assist at tea-tables, where I shallbe half killed with questions: and, on the other

part, that I am a creature that cannot serve any body,but with insignificant good wishes; and that my presenceis not a necessary good to any one member of my nativecountry, I think I might much better have staid whereease and quiet made up the happiness of my indolentlife.—I should certainly be melancholy,if I pursued this theme one line farther. Iwill rather fill the remainder of this paper withthe inscriptions on the tables of brass, that areplaced on each side of the town-house.

I. T A B L E.

Maererum. nostr : : : : :sii : : : : : Equidem. primam.omnium. illum. cogitationem. hominum. quam. maxime.primam. occursuram. mihi. provideo. deprecor. ne.quasi. novam. istam. rem. introduci. exhorreseatis.sed. illa. po. tius. cogitetis. quam. multa. in. hac.civitate. novata. sint. et. quidem. statim. ab. origine.urbis. nostrae. in. quod. formas. statusque. res.p. nostra. diducta. sit.

Quondam. reges. hanc. tenuere. urbem. ne. tamen. domesticis.successoribus. eam. tradere. contigit. supervenere.alieni. et. quidam. externi. ut. Numa. Romulo.successerit. ex. Sabinis. veniens. vicinus. quidem.sed. tunc. externus. ut. Anco. Marcio.Priseus, Tarquinius. propter. temeratum. sanguinem.quod. patre. de. marato. Corinthio. natus. eret.et. Tarquiniensi. matre. generosa. sed. inopi.ut. quae. tali. marito. necesse. habuerit. succumbere.cum. domi. repelleretur. a. gerendis. honoribus. postquam.Romam. migravit. regnum. adeptus. est. huie. quoque.et. filio. nepotive. ejus. nam. et. hoc. inter. auctores.discrepat. incretus. Servius. Tullius. si.nostros. sequimur. captiva. natus. ocresia. si. tuscos.coeli. quondam. vivennae. sodalis. fidelissimus. omnisque.ejus. casus. comes. postquam. varia. fortuna. exactus.cum. omnibus. reliquis. coeliani. exercitus. Etruria. excessit. montem. Coelium. occupavit.et. a. duce. suo. Coelio. ita. appellitatus. mutatoque.nomine. nam. tusce. mastarna. ei. nomen. erat. ita.appellatus. est. ut. dixi. et. regnum. summa. cum.reip. utilitate. obtinuit. diende. postquam.Tarquini. Superbi. mores. invisi. civitati. nostrae.esse. coeperunt. qua. ipsius. qua. filiorum ejus nempe.pertaesum. est. mentes. regni. et. ad. consules. annuos.magistratus. administratio. reip. translata. est.

Quid. nunc. commemorem. dictaturae, hoc. ipso. consulari.imperium. valentius. repertum. apud. majores. nostrosquo. in. asperioribus. bellis. aut. in. civili. motu.difficiliori. uterentur. aut. in. auxilium. plebis.creatos. tribunos. plebei. quid. a. consulibus. ad.decemviros. translatum. imperium. solutoque posteadecemvirali. regno. ad. consules. rursus. reditum.quid. im : : : : v ris. distributum.consulare, imperium. tribunosque. militum. consulari.imperio. appellatus. qui. seni. et octoni. crearentur.quid. communicatos. postremo. cum. plebe. honores.non. imperi. solum. sed. sacerdotorum. quoque. jamsi.narrem. bella. a. quibus. coeperint. majores. nostri.et. quo. processerimus. vereor. ne. nimio. insolentior.esse. videar. et. quaesisse. jactationem. gloriae.prolati. imperi. ultra. oceanum. sed. illo. C.Porius. revertar. civitatem.

II. T A B L E.

: : : : : : : :: : : : : : : sane: : : : : : : :: : : : : : : :: : : : nova : : : divus: aug : : : no : lus. et.patruus. Ti. Caesar. omnem. florem. ubique.coloniarum. ac. municipiorum. bonorum. scilicet. virorum.et. locupletium. in. hac. curia. esse. voluit. quid.ergo. non. italicus. senator. provinciali, potior.est. jam. vobis. cum. hanc. partem. censurae. meae.approbare. coepero. quid. de. ca. re. sentiam. rebus.ostendam. sed. ne. provinciales. quidem. si. modo.ornare. curiam. poterint. rejiciendos. puto.

Ornatissima. ecce. colonia. valentissimaque.Riennensium. quam. longo. jam. tempore. senatores.huic. curiae. consert. ex. qua. colonia. inter. paucos.equestris. ordinis. ornamentum. L. restinum.familiarissime. diligo. et. hodieque. in. rebus. meis.detineo. cujus. liberi. fruantur. quaeso. primo. sacerdotiorum.gradu. post. modo. cum. annis. promoturi. dignitatis.suae. incrementa. ut. dirum. nomen. latronis. taceam.et. odi. illud. palestricum. prodiguum. quod. ante.in. domum. consulatum. intulit. quam. colonia. sua.solidum. civitatis. Romanae. beneficium. consecuta.est. idem. de fratre. ejus. possum. dicere. miserabili.quidem. indignissimoque. hoc. casu. ut. vobis. utilis.senator. esse. non. possit.

Tempus. est. jam. Ti. Caesar. Germanice.detegere. te. patribus. conscriptis. quo. tendat.oratio. tua. jam. enim. ad. extremos. sines.Galliae. Narbonensis. venisti.

Tot. ecce. insignes. juvenes. quot. intueor. non.magis. sunt. poenitenci. senatorib. quam. poenitet.Persicum. nobilissimum. virum. amicum. meum. inter.imagines. majorum. suorum. Allorogici. nomen.legere. quod. si. hae. ita. esse. consenti. is. quid.ultra. desideratis. quam. ut. vobis. digito. demonstrem.solum. ipsum. ultra. sines. provinciae. Narbonensisjam. vobis. senatores. mittere. quando. ex. Lugduno.habere. nos. nostri. ordinis. viros. non. poenitet.timide. quidim. p. c. egressus. adsuetos. familiaresque.vobis. provinciarum, terminos. sum. sed. destrictejam comatae. Galliae. causa. agenda. est. in.qua. si. quis. hoc. intuetur. quod. bello. per. decem.annos. exercuerunt. divom. julium. idem opponat. centum.annorum. immobilem. fidem. obsequiumque. multis. tripidis.rebus. nostris plusquam. expertum. illi. patri. meo. Druso. Germaniam. subigenti. tutam. quiete.sua secaramque. a tergo pacem. praestiterunt. et.quidem. cum. ad. census. novo. tum. opere. et. in.adsueto. Galliis. ad. bellum. avocatus. esset.quod. opus. quam. arduum. sit. nobis. nunc. cum. maxime.quamvis. nihil. ultra. quam. ut. publice. notae. sint.facultates. nostrae. exquiratur. nimis. magne. experimento.cognoscimus.

I WAS also shewed without the gate of St Justinus,some remains of a Roman aqueduct; and behind the monasteryof St Mary, there are the ruins of the imperial palace,where the emperor Claudius was born, and where Severuslived. The great cathedral of St John is a goodGothic building, and its clock much admired by theGermans. In one of the most conspicuous partsof the town, is the late king’s statue set up,trampling upon mankind. I cannot forbear sayingone word here, of the French statues (for I neverintend to mention any more of them) with their gildedfull-bottomed wigs. If their king had intendedto express, in one image, ignorance, ill taste,and vanity, his sculptors could have made noother figure, so proper for that purpose, as thisstatue, which represents the odd mixture of an oldbeau, who had a mind to be a hero, with a bushel ofcurled hair on his head, and a gilt truncheon in hishand.—The French have been so voluminouson the history of this town, I need say nothing ofit. The houses are tolerably well built, andthe Belle Cour well planted, from whence is seen thecelebrated joining of the Soane and Rhone.

"UbiRhodanus ingens amne praerapido fluit
“Ararquedubitans quo suos fluctus agat."

I have had time to see every thing with great leisure,having been confined several days to this town bya swelling in my throat, the remains of a fever, occasionedby a cold I got in the damps of the Alps. Thedoctors here threaten me with all sorts of distempers,if I dare to leave them; but I, that know the obstinacyof it, think it just as possible to continue my wayto 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 herI have received her letter, and will answer it fromParis, believing that the place that she would mostwillingly hear of. I am, &c. &c:

LET. XLIX.

TO THE LADY R——.

Paris, Oct. 10. O. S. 1718.

I CANNOT give my dear Lady R—— abetter proof of the pleasure I have in writing toher, than chusing to do it in this seat of variousamusem*nts, where I am accableed with visits,and those so full of vivacity and compliments, that’tis full employment enough to hearken, whetherone answers or not. The French ambassadress atConstantinople has a very considerable and numerousfamily here, who all come to see me, and are neverweary of making inquiries. The air of Parishas already had a good effect on me; for I was neverin better health, though I have been extremely illall the road from Lyons to this place. You mayjudge how agreeable the journey has been to me; whichdid not want that addition to make me dislike it.I think nothing so terrible as objects of misery, exceptone had the God-like attribute of being capable to

redress them; and all the country villages of Franceshew nothing else. While the post horses arechanged, the whole town comes out to beg, with suchmiserable starved faces, and thin tattered cloths,they need no other eloquence, to persuade one of thewretchedness of their condition. This is allthe French magnificence, till you come to Fountainbleau,when you are shewed one thousand five hundred roomsin the king’s hunting palace. The apartmentsof the royal family are very large, and richly gilt;but I saw nothing in the architecture or paintingworth remembering. The long gallery, built byHenry IV. has prospects of all the king’s houses. Its walls are designed after the taste of those times,but appear now very mean. The park is, indeed,finely wooded and watered, the trees well grown andplanted, and in the fish-ponds are kept tame carp,said to be, some of them, eighty years of age. The late king passed some months every year at thisseat; and all the rocks round it, by the pious sentencesinscribed on them, shew the devotion in fashion athis court, which I believe died with him; at least,I see no exterior marks of it at Paris, where allpeoples thoughts seem to be on present diversion.

THE fair of St Lawrence is now in season. Youmay be sure I have been carried thither, and thinkit much better disposed than ours of Bartholomew. The shops being all set in rows so regularly and welllighted, they made up a very agreeable spectacle. But I was not at all satisfied with the grossierteof their harlequin, no more than with their musicat the opera, which was abominably grating, afterbeing used to that of Italy. Their house is abooth, compared to that of the Hay-market, and theplay-house not so neat as that of Lincoln’s-Inn-fields;but then it must be owned, to their praise, theirtragedians are much beyond any of ours. I shouldhardly allow Mrs O——d a better placethan to be confidante to La ——. 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 ’tis certainlyinfinitely more moving to see a man appear unhappy,than to hear him say that he is so, with a jolly face,and a stupid smirk in his countenance.—Apropos of countenances, I must tell you somethingof the French ladies; I have seen all the beauties,and such—(I can’t help making useof the coarse word) nauseous creatures! so fantasticallyabsurd in their dress! so monstrously unnatural intheir paints! their hair cut short, and curled roundtheir faces, and so loaded with powder, that it makesit look like white wool! and on their cheeks to theirchins, unmercifully laid on a shining red japan, thatglistens in a most flaming manner, so that they seemto have no resemblance to human faces. I am aptto believe, that they took the first hint of theirdress from a fair sheep newly ruddled. ’Tiswith pleasure I recollect my dear pretty country-women:and if I was writing to any body else, I should say,that these grotesque daubers give me still a higheresteem of the natural charms of dear Lady R——’sauburne (sic) hair, and the lively colours of herunsullied complexion. I am, &c. &c.

P. S. I have met the Abbe here, who desiresme to make his compliments to you.

LET. L.

TO MR T——.

Paris, Oct. 16. O. S. 1718.

YOU see I’m just to my word, in writing to youfrom Paris, where I was very much surprised to meetmy sister; I need not add, very much pleased. She as little expected to see me as I her (havingnot received my late letters); and this meeting wouldshine under the hand of de Seuderie; but I shall notimitate his style so far, as to tell you how oftenwe embraced, how she inquired, by what odd chanceI returned from Constantinople? And I answeredher by asking, what adventure brought her to Paris? To shorten the story, all questions, and answers,and exclamations, and compliments being over, we agreedupon running about together, and have seen Versailles,Trianon, Marli, and St Cloud. We had an orderfor the water to play for our diversion, and I wasfollowed thither by all the English at Paris. I own, Versailles appeared to me rather vast thanbeautiful; and after having seen the exact proportionsof the Italian buildings, I thought the irregularityof it shocking.

THE king’s cabinet of antiques and medals, is,indeed, very richly furnished. Amongst thatcollection, none pleased so well, as the apotheosisof Germanicus, on a large agate, which is one of themost delicate pieces of the kind that I remember tohave seen. I observed some ancient statues ofgreat value. But the nauseous flattery, andtawdry pencil of Le Brun, are equally disgusting inthe gallery. I will not pretend to describeto you the great apartment, the vast variety of fountains,the theatre, the grove of Esop’s (sic) fables,&c. all which you may read very amply particularizedin some of the French authors, that have been paidfor these descriptions. Trianon, in its littleness,pleased me better than Versailles; Marli, better thaneither of them; and St Cloud best of all; having theadvantage of the Seine running at the bottom of thegardens, the great cascade, &c. You may findinformation in the aforesaid books, if you have anycuriosity to know the exact number of the statues,and how many feet they cast up the water.

WE saw the king’s pictures in the magnificenthouse of the duke D’Antin, who has the careof preserving them till his majesty is of age. There are not many but of the best hands. Ilooked, with great pleasure on the arch-angel of Raphael,where the sentiments of superior beings are as wellexpressed as in Milton. You won’t forgiveme, if I say nothing of the Thuilleries (sic), muchfiner than our Mall; and the Cour, more agreeablethan our Hyde-park, the high trees giving shade inthe hottest season. At the Louvre, I had theopportunity of seeing the king, accompanied by theDuke regent. He is tall, and well shaped buthas not the air of holding the crown so many yearsas his grandfather. And now I am speaking ofthe Court, I must say, I saw nothing in France that

delighted me so much, as to see an Englishman (atleast a Briton) absolute at Paris, I mean Mr Law,who treats their dukes and peers extremely de hauten bas, and is treated by them with the utmostsubmission and respect.—Poor souls!—Thisreflection on their abject slavery, puts me in mindof the place des victoires; but I will nottake up your time, and my own, with such descriptions,which are too numerous.

IN general, I think Paris has the advantage of London,in the neat pavement of the streets, and the regularlighting of them at nights, in the proportion of thestreets, the houses being all built of stone, andmost of those belonging to people of quality beingbeautified by gardens. But we certainly may boastof a town very near twice as large; and when I havesaid that, I know nothing else we surpass it in. I shall not continue here long; if you have any thingto command me during my short stay, write soon, andI shall take pleasure in obeying you. I am, &c. &c.

LET. LI.

TO THE ABBOT ——.

Dover, Oct. 31. O. S. 1718.

I AM willing to take your word for it, that I shallreally oblige you, by letting you know, as soon aspossible, my safe passage over the water. Iarrived this morning at Dover, after being tossed awhole night in the packet-boat, in so violent a manner,that the master, considering the weakness of his vessel,thought it proper to remove the mail, and give usnotice of the danger. We called a little fishingboat, which could hardly make up to us; while all thepeople on board us were crying to Heaven. ’Tishard to imagine one’s self in a scene of greaterhorror than on such an occasion: and yet, shallI own it to you? though I was not at all willinglyto be drowned, I could not forbear being entertainedat the double distress of a fellow-passenger. She was 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 fine point-head, which she was contrivingto conceal from the custom-house officers. Whenthe wind grew high, and our little vessel cracked,she fell very heartily to her prayers, and thoughtwholly of her soul. When it seemed to abate,she returned to the worldly care of her head-dress,and addressed herself to me—"Dear madam,will you take care of this point? if it should be“lost!—Ah, Lord, we shall all be lost!—Lordhave mercy on my “soul!—Pray, madam,take care of this head-dress." This easy transitionfrom her soul to her head-dress, and the alternateagonies that both gave her, made it hard to determinewhich she thought of greatest value. But, however,the scene was not so diverting, but I was glad toget rid of it, and be thrown into the little boat,though with some hazard of breaking my neck. It brought me safe hither; and I cannot help lookingwith partial eyes on my native land. That partialitywas certainly given us by nature, to prevent rambling,

the effect of an ambitious thirst after knowledge,which we are not formed to enjoy. All we getby it, is a fruitless desire of mixing the differentpleasures and conveniencies which are given to thedifferent parts of the world, and cannot meet in anyone of them. After having read all that is tobe found in the languages I am mistress of, and havingdecayed my sight by midnight studies, I envy the easypeace of mind of a ruddy milk-maid, who, undisturbedby doubt, hears the sermon, with humility, every Sunday,not having confounded the sentiments of natural dutyin her head by the vain-inquiries of the schools,who may be more learned, yet, after all, must remainas ignorant. And, after having seen part of Asiaand Africa, and almost made the tour of Europe, I thinkthe honest English squire more happy, who verily believesthe Greek wines less delicious than March beer; thatthe African fruits have not so fine a flavour as goldenpippins; that the Beca figuas of Italy are not sowell tasted as a rump of beef; and that, in short,there is no perfect enjoyment of this life out ofOld England. I pray God I may think so for therest of my life; and, since I must be contented withour scanty allowance of day-light, that I may forgetthe enlivening sun of Constantinople. I am, &c. &c.

LET. LII.

TO MR P——.

Dover, Nov. 1. O. S. 1718.

I Have this minute received a letter of yours, sentme from Paris. I believe and hope I shall verysoon see both you and Mr Congreve; but as I am herein an inn, where we stay to regulate our march toLondon, bag and baggage, I shall employ some of myleisure time, in answering that part of yours, thatseems to require an answer.

I MUST applaud your good nature, in supposing, thatyour pastoral lovers (vulgarly called hay-makers)would have lived in everlasting joy and harmony, ifthe lightning had not interrupted their scheme ofhappiness. I see no reason to imagine, that JohnHughes and Sarah Drew, were either wiser or more virtuousthan their neighbours. That a well-set man oftwenty-five should have a fancy to marry a brown womanof eighteen, is nothing marvellous; and I cannot helpthinking, that had they married, their lives wouldhave passed in the common track with their fellowparishioners. His endeavouring to shield herfrom a storm, was a natural action, and what he wouldhave certainly done for his horse, if he had beenin the same situation. Neither am I of opinion,that their sudden death was a reward of their mutualvirtue. You know the Jews were reproved for thinkinga village destroyed by fire, more wicked than thosethat had escaped the thunder. Time and chancehappen to all men. Since you desire me to trymy skill in an epitaph, I think the following linesperhaps more just, tho’ not so poetical as yours.

Herelies John Hughes and Sarah Drew;
Perhapsyou’ll say, What’s that to you?
Believeme, friend, much may be said
Onthat poor couple that are dead.
OnSunday next they should have married;
Butsee how oddly things are carried!
OnThursday last it rain’d and lighten’d,
Thesetender lovers sadly frighten’d,
Shelter’dbeneath the co*cking hay,
Inhopes to pass the time away,
Butthe BOLD THUNDER found them out,
(Commission’dfor that end no doubt)
Andseizing on their trembling breath,
Consign’dthem to the shades of death.
Whoknows if ’twas not kindly done?
Forhad they seen the next year’s fun,
Abeaten wife and co*ckold swain
Hadjointly curs’d the marriage chain:
Nowthey are happy in their doom,
FORPOPE HAS WROTE UPON THEIR TOMB.

I CONFESS, these sentiments are not altogether soheroic as yours; but I hope you will forgive themin favour of the two last lines. You see howmuch I esteem the honour you have done them; thoughI am not very impatient to have the same, and hadrather continue to be your stupid living humbleservant, than be celebrated by all the pensin Europe.

I WOULD write to Mr C——; but supposeyou will read this to him, if he inquires after me.

LET. LIII.

[Footnote: This and the following letters arenow first published.]

TO LADY ——.

January 13. 1715-16.

I FIND, after all, by your letter of yesterday, thatMrs D—— is resolved to marry theold greasy curate. She was always high-churchin an excessive degree; and, you know, she used tospeak of Sacheveral as an apostolic saint, who wasworthy to sit in the same place with St Paul, if nota step above him. It is a matter, however, verydoubtful to me, whether it is not still more the manthan the apostle that Mrs D——looks to in the present alliance. Though at theage of forty, she is, I assure you, very far from beingcold and insensible; her fire may be covered with ashes,but it is not extinguished.—Don’tbe deceived, my dear, by that prudish and sanctifiedair.—Warm devotions is no equivocal markof warm passions; besides, I know it is a fact, (ofwhich I have proofs in hand, which I will tell youby word of mouth) that our learned and holy prudeis exceedingly disposed to use the means, supposedin the primitive command, let what will come of theend. The curate indeed is very filthy.—Sucha red, spungy (sic), warty nose! Such a squint!—Inshort, he is ugly beyond expression; and, what oughtnaturally to render him peculiarly displeasing to oneof Mrs D——’s constitutionand propensities, he is stricken in years. Nordo I really know how they will live. He has

but forty-five pounds a-year—she but atrifling sum; so that they are likely to feast uponlove and ecclesiastical history which will be veryempty food, without a proper mixture of beef and pudding. I have however, engaged our friend, who is the curate’slandlord, to give them a good lease; and if Mrs D——,instead of spending whole days in reading Collier,Hicks, and vile translations of Plato and Epictetus;will but form the resolution of taking care of herhouse, and minding her dairy, things may go tolerably. It is not likely that their tender loves will give them many sweet babes to provide for.

I MET the lover yesterday, going to the ale-housein his dirty nightgown, with a book under his arm,to entertain the club; and, as Mrs D——was with me at the time, I pointed out to her the charmingcreature: she blushed, and looked prim; but quoteda passage out of Herodotus, in which it is said thatthe Persians wore long night-gowns. There isreally no more accounting for the taste in marriageof many of our sex, than there is for the appetiteof your Miss S——y, who makes suchwaste of chalk and charcoal, when they fall in herway.

AS marriage produces children, so children producecare and disputes; and wrangling, as is said (at leastby old batchelors (sic) and old maids) is one of thesweets of the conjugal state. You tellme that our friend Mrs —— is, atlength, blessed with a son, and that her husband,who is a great philosopher, (if his own testimony isto be depended upon) insists on her suckling it herself. You ask my advice on this matter; and, to give ityou frankly, I really think that Mr ——’sdemand is unreasonable, as his wife’s constitutionis tender, and her temper fretful. A true philosopherwould consider these circ*mstances; but a pedant isalways throwing his system in your face, and appliesit equally to all things, times and places, just likea taylor who would make a coat out of his own head,without any regard to the bulk or figure of the personthat must wear it. All those fine-spun argumentsthat 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 properlyunderstood and applied; but I cannot bear to hearpeople using it, to justify what common sense mustdisavow. Is not nature modified by art in manythings? Was it not designed to be so? And is it not happy for human society, that it is so? Would you like to see your husband let his beardgrow, until he would be obliged to put the end ofit in his pocket, because this beard is the gift ofnature? The instincts of nature point out neithertaylors, nor weavers, nor mantua-makers, nor sempsters,nor milliners; and yet I am very glad that we do notrun naked like the Hottentots. But not to wanderfrom the subject—I grant, that nature hasfurnished the mother with milk to nourish her child;

but I maintain, at the same time, that if she canfind better milk elsewhere, she ought to prefer itwithout hesitation. I don’t see why sheshould have more scruple to do this, than her husbandhas to leave the clear fountain which nature gavehim, 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 Iknow is not the case) she might be a good nurse forher child; but, as matters stand, I do verily think,that the milk of a good comely cow, who feeds quietlyin her meadow, never devours ragouts, nor drinks ratifia,nor frets at quadrille, nor sits up till three inthe morning, elated with gain, or dejected with loss;I do think, that the milk of such a cow, or of a nursethat came as near it as possible, would be likelyto nourish the young squire much better than hers. If it be true that the child sucks in the mother’spassions with her milk, this is a strong argumentin favour of the cow, unless you may be afraid thatthe young squire may become a calf; but how many calvesare there both in state and church, who have beenbrought up with their mother’s milk.

I PROMISE faithfully, to communicate to no mortalthe letter you wrote me last.—What yousay of two of the rebel lords, I believe to be true;but I can do nothing in the matter.—If myprojects don’t fail in the execution, I shallsee you before a month passes. Give my serviceto Dr Blackbeard.—He is a good man, butI never saw in my life, such a persecuting face covera humane and tender heart. I imagine (withinmyself) that the Smithfield priests, who burned theprotestants in the time of Queen Mary, had just suchfaces as the doctor’s. If we were papists,I should like him very much for my confessor; hisseeming austerity would give you and I a great reputationfor sanctity; and his good, indulgent heart, wouldbe the very thing that would suit us, in the affairof penance and ghostly direction. Farewell, my dear lady, &c. &c.

LET. LIV.

TO THE ABBOT ——.

Vienna, Jan. 2. O. S. 1717.

I AM really almost tired with the life of Vienna. I am not, indeed, an enemy to dissipation and hurry,much less to amusem*nt and pleasure; but I cannotendure, long, even pleasure, when it is fettered withformality, and assumes the air of system. ’Tistrue I have had here some very agreeable connections;and what will perhaps surprise you, I have particularpleasure in my Spanish acquaintances, count Oropesaand general Puebla. These two noblemen are muchin the good graces of the emperor, and yet they seemto be brewing mischief. The court of Madrid cannotreflect, without pain, upon the territories that werecut off from the Spanish monarchy by the peace ofUtrecht, 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 verylittle; let the Court be in the right or in the wrong,I like mightily the two counts its ministers. I dined with them both some days ago at count Wurmbrand’s,an aulic counsellor, and a man of letters, who isuniversally esteemed here. But the first manat this court, in point of knowledge and abilities,is certainly count Schlick, high chancellor of Bohemia,whose immense reading is accompanied with a fine tasteand a solid judgment; he is a declared enemy to princeEugene, and a warm friend to the honest hot-headedmarshal Staremberg. One of the most accomplishedmen I have seen at Vienna, is the young count Terracco,who accompanies the amiable prince of Portugal. I am almost in love with them both, and wonder tosee such elegant manners, and such free and generoussentiments in two young men that have hitherto seennothing but their own country. The count isjust such a Roman-catholic as you; he succeeds greatlywith the devout beauties here; his first overturesin gallantry are disguised under the luscious strainsof spiritual love, that were sung formerly by thesublimely voluptuous Fenelon, and the tender madamGuion, who turned the fire of carnal love to divineobjects: thus the count begins with the spirit,and ends generally with the flesh, when hemakes his addresses to holy virgins.

I MADE acquaintance yesterday with the famous poetRousseau, who lives here under the peculiar protectionof prince Eugene, by whose liberality he subsists. He passes here for a free-thinker, and, what is stillworse in my esteem, for a man whose heart does notfeel the encomiums he gives to virtue and honour inhis poems. I like his odes mightily; they aremuch superior to the lyric productions of our Englishpoets, few of whom have made any figure in that kindof poetry. I don’t find that learned menabound here; there is, indeed, a prodigious numberof alchymists (sic) at Vienna; the philosopher’sstone is the great object of zeal and science;and those who have more reading and capacity thanthe vulgar, have transported their superstition (shallI call it?) or fanaticism, from religion to chymistry(sic); and they believe in a new kind of transubstantiation,which is designed to make the laity as rich as theother kind has made the priesthood. This pestilentialpassion has already ruined several great houses. There is scarcely a man of opulence or fashion, thathas not an alchymist in his service; and even theemperor is supposed to be no enemy to this folly, insecret, though he has pretended to discourage it inpublic.

PRINCE EUGENE was so polite as to shew me his libraryyesterday; we found him attended by Rousseau, andhis favourite count Bonneval, who is a man of wit,and is here thought to be a very bold and enterprizing(sic), spirit. The library, though not very ample,is well chosen; but as the prince will admit intoit no editions but what are beautiful and pleasingto the eye, and there are, nevertheless, numbers ofexcellent books that are but indifferently printed,this finikin (sic) and foppish taste makes many disagreeablechasms in this collection. The books are pompouslybound in Turkey leather; and two of the most famousbook-binders of Paris were expressly sent for to dothis work. Bonneval pleasantly told me, thatthere were several quartos, on the art of war, thatwere bound with the skins of spahis and janizaries:and this jest, which was indeed elegant, raised asmile of pleasure on the grave countenance of thefamous warrior. The prince, who is a connoisseurin the fine arts, shewed me, with particular pleasure,the famous collection of portraits that formerly belongedto Fouquet, and which he purchased at an excessiveprice. He has augmented it with a considerablenumber of new acquisitions; so that he has now in hispossession such a collection in that kind, as youwill scarcely find in any ten cabinets in Europe. If I told you the number, you will say that I makean indiscreet use of the permission to lie, which ismore or less given to travellers, by the indulgenceof the candid.

COUNT TARRACCO is just come in.—He is theonly person I have accepted, this morning, in my generalorder to receive no company.—I think Isee you smile;—but I am not so far goneas to stand in need of absolution; though as the humanheart is deceitful, and the count very agreeable,you may think, that even though I should not want anabsolution, I would, nevertheless, be glad to havean indulgence.—No such thing.—However,as I am a heretic, and you no confessor, I shall makeno declarations on this head.—The designof the count’s visit is a ball;—morepleasure.—I shall be surfeited.

Adieu,&c.

LET. LV.

TO MR P——.

Sept. 1. 1717.

WHEN I wrote to you last, Belgrade was in the handsof the Turks; but, at this present moment, it haschanged masters, and is in the hands of the Imperialists. A janizary, who, in nine days, and yet without anywings but what a panic terror seems to have furnished,arrived at Constantinople from the army of the Turksbefore Belgrade, brought Mr W——the news of a complete victory obtained by the Imperialists,commanded by prince Eugene, over the Ottoman troops.It is said, the prince has discovered great conductand valour in this action; and I am particularly gladthat the voice of glory and duty has call’dhim from the—(Note in the published book:here several words of the manuscript are effaced.)—Two

day’s after the battle, the town surrendered. The consternation, which this defeat has occasionedhere, is inexpressible; and the sultan, apprehendinga revolution, from the resentment and indignationof the people, fomented by certain leaders, has begunhis precautions, after the goodly fashion of thisblessed government, by ordering several persons tobe strangled, who were the objects of his royal suspicion.He has also ordered his treasurer to advance some monthspay to the janizaries, which seems the less necessary,as their conduct has been bad in this campaign, andtheir licentious ferocity seems pretty well tamedby the public contempt. Such of them as returnin straggling and fugitive parties to the metropolis,have not spirit nor credit enough to defend themselvesfrom the insults of the mob; the very children tauntthem, and the populace spit in their faces as theypass. They refused, during the battle, to lendtheir assistance to save the baggage and the militarychest, which, however, were defended by the bashawsand their retinue, while the janizaries and spahiswere nobly employed in plundering their own camp.

You see here, that I give you a very handsomereturn for your obliging letter. You entertainme with a most agreeable account of your amiable connexions(sic) with men of letters and taste, and of the deliciousmoments you pass in their society under the ruralshade; and I exhibit to you, in return, the barbarousspectacle of Turks and Germans cutting one another’sthroats. But what can you expect from such acountry as this, from which the Muses have fled, fromwhich letters seem eternally banished, and in whichyou see, in private scenes, nothing pursued as happiness,but the refinements of an indolent voluptuousness;and where those who act upon the public theatre livein uncertainty, suspicion, and terror? Here,pleasure, to which I am no enemy, when it is properlyseasoned, and of a good composition, is surely ofthe coying kind. Veins of wit, elegant conversation,easy commerce, are unknown among the Turks; and yetthey seem capable of all these, if the vile spiritof their government did not stifle genius, damp curiosity,and suppress an hundred passions, that embellish andrender life agreeable. The luscious passionof the seraglio is the only one almost that is gratifiedhere to the full; but it is blended so with the surlyspirit of despotism in one of the parties, and withthe dejection and anxiety which this spirit producesin the other, that, to one of my way of thinking,it cannot appear otherwise than as a very mixed kindof enjoyment. The women here are not, indeed,so closely confined as many have related; they enjoya high degree of liberty, even in the bosom of servitude,and they have methods of evasion and disguise, thatare very favourable to gallantry; but, after all, theyare still under uneasy apprehensions of being discovered;and a discovery exposes them to the most merciless

rage of jealousy, which is here a monster that cannotbe satiated but with blood. The magnificenceand riches that reign in the apartments of the ladiesof fashion here, seem to be one of their chief pleasures,joined with their retinue of female slaves, whosemusic, dancing, and dress, amuse them highly; butthere is such an air of form and stiffness amidst thisgrandeur, as hinders it from pleasing me at long-run,however, I was dazzled with it at first sight. This stiffness and formality of manners are peculiarto the Turkish ladies; for the Grecian belles are ofquite another character and complexion; with them,pleasure appears in more engaging forms; and theirpersons, manners, conversation and amusem*nts, arevery far from being destitute of elegance and ease.

I RECEIVED the news of Mr Addison’s being declaredsecretary of state with the less surprise, in thatI know that post was almost offered to him before. At that time he declined it; and I really believethat 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 be, in prudence, eligible for a manthat is asthmatic; and we may see the day, when hewill be heartily glad to resign them both. Itis well that he laid aside the thoughts of the voluminousdictionary, of which I have heard you or somebodyelse frequently make mention. But no more onthat subject; I would not have said so much, were Inot assured that this letter will come safe and unopenedto hand. I long much to tread upon English ground,that I may see you and Mr Congreve, who render thatground classic ground; nor will you refuseour present secretary a part of that merit, whateverreasons you may have to be dissatisfied with him inother respects. You are the three happiest poetsI ever heard of; one a secretary of state, the otherenjoying leisure, with dignity, in two lucrative employments;and you, though your religious profession is an obstacleto Court promotion, and disqualifies you from fillingcivil employments, have found the philosopher’sstone; since, by making the Iliad pass throughyour poetical crucible into an English form, withoutlosing aught of it’s original beauty, you havedrawn the golden current of Pactolus to Twickenham. I call this finding the philosopher’s stone,since you alone found out the secret, and nobody elsehas got into it. A——n and T——ltried it, but their experiments failed; and they lost,if not their money, at least a certain portion oftheir fame in the trial—while you touchedthe mantle of the divine bard, and imbibed his spirit. I hope we shall have the Odyssey soon from your happyhand; and I think I shall follow, with singular pleasure,the traveller Ulysses, who was an observer of menand manners, when he travels in your harmonious numbers. I love him much better than the hot-headed son ofPeleus, 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; butI wish, nevertheless, that Homer had chosen a herosomewhat less pettish and less fantastic: a perfecthero is chimerical and unnatural, and consequentlyuninstructive; but it is also true, that while theepic hero ought to be drawn with the infirmities thatare the lot of humanity, he ought never to be representedas extremely absurd. But it becomes me ill toplay the critic; so I take my leave of you for thistime, and desire you will believe me, with the highestesteem, Your’s, &c.

LET. LVI.

[Footnote: As this letter is the supplement toa preceding one, which is not come to the hands ofthe editor, it was probably, on that account, sentwithout a date. It seems evidently to have beenwritten after Lady M. W. M. had fixed her residencein Italy.]

To THE COUNTESS OF ——.

Saturday-Florence.

I SET out from Bologne (sic) the moment I had finishedthe letter I wrote you on Monday last, and shall nowcontinue to inform you of the things that have struckme most in this excursion. Sad roads—hillyand rocky—between Bologna and Fierenzuola. Between this latter place and Florence, I went outof my road to visit the monastery of La Trappe, whichis of French origin, and one of the most austere andself-denying orders I have met with. In thisgloomy retreat, it gave me pain to observe the infatuationof men, who have devoutly reduced themselves to amuch worse condition than that of the beasts. Folly, you see, is the lot of humanity, whether itarises in the flowery paths of pleasure, or the thornyones of an ill-judged devotion. But of the twosorts of fools, I shall always think that the merryone has the most eligible fate; and I cannot wellform a notion of that spiritual and ecstatic joy,that is mixed with sighs, groans, hunger and thirst,and the other complicated miseries of monastic discipline. It is a strange way of going to work for happiness,to excite an enmity between soul and body, which natureand providence have designed to live together in anunion and friendship, and which we cannot separatelike man and wife, when they happen to disagree.The profound silence that is enjoined upon the monksof La Trappe, is a singular circ*mstance of theirunsociable and unnatural discipline; and were thisinjunction never to be dispensed with, it would beneedless to visit them in any other character thanas a collection of statues; but the superior of theconvent suspended, in our favour, that rigorous law,and allowed one of the mutes to converse with me,and answer a few discreet questions. He toldme, that the monks of this order in France are stillmore austere than those of Italy, as they never tastewine, flesh, fish, or eggs; but live entirely uponvegetables. The story that is told of the institutionof this order is remarkable, and is well attested,if my information be good. Its founder was a

French nobleman, whose name was Bouthillier da (sic)Rance, a man of pleasure and gallantry, which wereconverted into the deepest gloom of devotion, by thefollowing incident. His affairs obliged himto absent himself for some time, from a lady with whomhe had lived in the most intimate and tender connectionsof successful love. At his return to Paris,he proposed to surprise her agreeably; and, at thesame time, to satisfy his own impatient desire of seeingher, by going directly, and without ceremony, to herapartment by a back stair, which he was well acquaintedwith.—But think of the spectacle that presenteditself to him at his entrance into the chamber thathad so often been the scene of love’s highestraptures! His mistress dead—dead ofthe small-pox—disfigured beyond expression—aloathsome mass of putrified (sic) matter—andthe surgeon separating the head from the body, becausethe coffin had been made too short! He stoodfor a moment motionless in amazement, and filled withhorror—and then retired from the world,shut himself up in the convent of La Trappe, wherehe passed the remainder of his days in the most crueland disconsolate devotion.—Let us quitthis sad subject.

I MUST not forget to tell you, that before I cameto this monastery, I went to see the burning mountainsnear Fierenzuola, of which the naturalists speak asa great curiosity. The flame it sends forth iswithout smoke, and resembles brandy set on fire. The ground about it is well cultivated, and the fireappears only in one spot where there is a cavity,whose circumference is small, but in it are severalcrevices whose depths are unknown. It is remarkable,that when a piece of wood is thrown into this cavity,though it cannot pass through the crevices, yet itis consumed in a moment; and that though the groundabout it be perfectly cold, yet if a stick be rubbedwith any force against it, it emits a flame, which,however, is neither hot nor durable like that of thevolcano. If you desire a more circ*mstantialaccount of this phenomenon, and have made a sufficientprogress in Italian, to read father Carazzi’sdescription of it, you need not be at a loss, forI have sent this description to Mr F——,and you have only to ask it of him. After observingthe volcano, I Scrambled up all the neighbouring hills,partly on horse-back, partly on foot, but could findno vestige of fire in any of them; though common reportwould make one believe that they all contain volcanos.

I HOPE you have not taken it in your head to expectfrom me a description of the famous gallery, here,where I arrived on Thursday at noon; this would berequiring a volume instead of a letter; besides Ihave as yet seen but a part of this immense treasure,and I propose employing some weeks more to surveythe whole. You cannot imagine any situationmore agreeable than Florence. It lies in a fertileand smiling valley watered by the Arno, which runsthrough the city; and nothing can surpass the beauty

and magnificence of its public buildings, particularlythe cathedral, whose grandeur filled me with astonishment. The palaces, squares, fountains, statues, bridges,do not only carry an aspect full of elegance and greatness,but discover a taste quite different, in kind, fromthat which reigns in the public edifices in othercountries. The more I see of Italy, the moreI am persuaded that the Italians have a style (if Imay use that expression) in every thing, which distinguishesthem almost essentially from all other Europeans. Where they have got it,—whether from naturalgenius or ancient imitation and inheritance, I shallnot examine; but the fact is certain. I havebeen but one day in the gallery, that amazing repositoryof the most precious remains of antiquity, and whichalone is sufficient to immortalize the illustrioushouse of Medicis, by whom it was built, and enrichedas we now see it. I was so impatient to see thefamous Venus of Medicis, that I went hastily throughsix apartments, in order to get a sight of this divinefigure; purposing (sic), when I had satisfied thisardent curiosity, to return and view the rest at myleisure. As I, indeed, passed through the greatroom which contains the ancient statues, I was stoppedshort at viewing the Antinous, which they have placednear that of Adrian, to revive the remembrance oftheir preposterous loves; which, I suppose, the Florentinesrather look upon as an object of envy, than of horrorand disgust. This statue, like that of the Venusde Medicis, spurns description: such figuresmy eyes never beheld.—I can now understandthat Ovid’s comparing a fine woman to a statue,which I formerly thought a very disobliging similitude,was the nicest and highest piece of flattery. The Antinous is entirely naked, all its parts arebigger than nature; but the whole, taken together,and the fine attitude of the figure, carry such anexpression of ease, elegance and grace, as no wordscan describe. When I saw the Venus I was raptin wonder,—and I could not help castinga thought back upon Antinous. They ought tobe placed together; they are worthy of each other.—Ifmarble could see and feel, the separation might beprudent,—if it could only see, itwould certainly lose its coldness, and learn to feel;and, in such a case, the charms of these two figureswould produce an effect quite opposite to that of theGorgon’s head, which turned flesh into stone. Did I pretend to describe to you the Venus, it wouldonly set your imagination at work to form ideas ofher figure; and your ideas would no more resemblethat figure, than the Portuguese face of Miss ——,who has enchanted our knights, resembles the sweetand graceful countenance of lady ——,his former flame. The description of a face orfigure, is a needless thing, as it never conveys atrue idea; it only gratifies the imagination witha fantastic one, until the real one is seen.So, my dear, if you have a mind to form a true notionof the divine forms and features of the Venus andAntinous, come to Florence.

I WOULD be glad to oblige you and your friend Vertue,by executing your commission with respect to the sketchesof Raphael’s cartoons at Hampton-court; butI cannot do it to my satisfaction. I have, indeed,seen, in the grand duke’s collection, four pieces,in which that wonderful artist had thrown freely fromhis pencil the first thoughts and rude lines of someof these compositions; and as the first thoughts ofa great genius are precious, these pieces attractedmy curiosity in a particular manner; but when I wentto examine them closely, I found them so damaged andeffaced, that they did not at all answer my expectation. Whether this be owing to negligence or envy, I cannotsay; I mention the latter, because it is notorious,that many of the modern painters have discovered ignoblemarks of envy at a view of the inimitable productionsOf the ancients. Instead of employing their artto preserve the master-pieces of antiquity, they haveendeavoured to destroy and efface many of them.I have seen with my own eyes an evident proof of thisat Bologna, where the greatest part of the paintingsin fresco on the walls of the convent of St Michaelin Bosco, done by the Carracci, and Guido Rheni, havebeen ruined by the painters, who, after having copiedsome of the finest heads, scraped them almost entirelyout with nails. Thus, you see, nothing is exemptfrom human malignity.

THE word malignity, and a passage in your letter,call to my mind the wicked wasp of Twickenham; hislies affect me now no more; they will be all as muchdespised as the story of the seraglio and the handkerchief,of which I am persuaded he was the only inventor. That man has a malignant and ungenerous heart; andhe is base enough to assume the mark of a moralistin order to decry human nature, and to give a decentvent to his hatred to man and woman kind.—ButI must quit this contemptible subject, on which ajust indignation would render my pen so fertile, that,after having fatigued you with a long letter, I wouldsurfeit you with a supplement twice as long.Besides, a violent head-ach (sic) advertises me thatit is time to lay down my pen and get me to bed. I shall say some things to you in my next, that Iwould have you to impart to the strange man,as from yourself. My mind is at present tolerablyquiet; if it were as dead to sin, as it is to certainconnections, I should be a great saint. Adieu,my dear madam. Yours very affectionately,&c.

LET. LVII.

TO MR P.

I HAVE been running about Paris at a strange ratewith my sister, and strange sights have we seen. They are, at least, strange sights to me; for, afterhaving been accustomed to the gravity of Turks, I canscarce look with an easy and familiar aspect at thelevity and agility of the airy phantoms that are dancingabout me here; and I often think that I am at a puppet-shew,amidst the representations of real life. I stareprodigiously, but nobody remarks it, for every body

stares here, staring is a-la-mode—thereis a stare of attention and interet, a stareof curiosity, a stare of expectation, a stare of surprise;and it will greatly amuse you to see what triflingobjects excite all this staring. This staringwould have rather a solemn kind of air, were it notalleviated by grinning; for at the end of a stare,there comes always a grin; and very commonly, theentrance of a gentleman or lady into a room is accompaniedwith a grin, which is designed to express complacenceand social pleasure, but really shews nothing morethan a certain contortion of muscles, that must makea stranger laugh really, as they laugh artificially. The French grin is equally remote from the cheerfulserenity of a smile, and the cordial mirth of an honestEnglish horse-laugh. I shall not perhaps stayhere long enough to form a just idea of French mannersand characters, though this I believe would requirebut little study, as there is no great depth in either. It appears, on a superficial view, to be a frivolous,restless, and agreeable people. The abbot ismy guide, and I could not easily light upon a better;he tells me, that here the women form the characterof the men, and I am convinced in the persuasion ofthis, by every company into which I enter. Thereseems here to be no intermediate state between infancyand manhood; for as soon as the boy has quit his leading-strings,he is set agog in the world; the ladies are his tutors,they make the first impressions, which, generallyremain, and they render the men ridiculous, by theimitation of their humours and graces; so that dignityin manners, is a rare thing here before the age ofsixty. Does not king David say somewhere, thatMan walketh in a vain shew? I think he does;and I am sure this is peculiarly true of the Frenchman—buthe walks merrily, and seems to enjoy the vision; andmay he not therefore be esteemed more happy than manyof our solid thinkers, whose brows are furrowed bydeep reflection, and whose wisdom is so often clothedwith a misty mantle of spleen and vapours?

WHAT delights me most here, is a view of the magnificence,often accompanied with taste, that reigns in the king’spalaces and gardens; for tho’ I don’tadmire much the architecture, in which there is greatirregularity and want of proportion, yet the statues,paintings, and other decorations, afford me high entertainment. One of the pieces of antiquity that struck me mostin the gardens of Versailles, was the famous Colosseanstatue of Jupiter, the workmanship of Myron, whichMark Anthony carried away from Samos, and Augustusordered to be placed in the capitol. It is ofParian marble; and though it has suffered in the ruinof time, it still preserves striking lines of majesty. But surely, if marble could feel, the god would frownwith a generous indignation, to see himself transportedfrom the capitol into a French garden; and, after havingreceived the homage of the Roman emperors, who laidtheir laurels at his feet when they returned fromtheir conquests, to behold now nothing but frizzledbeaus passing by him with indifference.

I PROPOSE setting out soon from this place, so thatyou are to expect no more letters from this side ofthe water; besides, I am hurried to death, and myhead swims with that vast variety of objects whichI am obliged to view with such rapidity, the shortnessof my time not allowing me to examine them at my leisure. There is here an excessive prodigality of ornamentsand decorations, that is just the opposite extremeto what appears in our royal gardens; this prodigalityis owing to the levity and inconstancy of the Frenchtaste, which always pants after something new, andthus heaps ornament upon ornament, without end ormeasure. It is time, however, that I shouldput an end to my letter; so I wish you good night,

Andam, &c.

LET. LVIII.

TO THE COUNT ——.

Translated from the French.

I AM charmed, Sir, with your obliging letter; andyou may perceive, by the largeness of my paper, thatI intend to give punctual answers to all your questions,at least if my French will permit me; for, as it isa language I do not understand to perfection, so Imuch fear, that, for want of expressions, I shallbe quickly obliged to finish. Keep in mind, therefore,that I am writing in a foreign language, and be sureto attribute all the impertinencies and triflings (sic)dropping from my pen, to the want of proper words fordeclaring my thoughts, but by no means to dulness,or natural levity.

THESE conditions being thus agreed and settled, Ibegin with telling you, that you have a true notionof the alcoran, concerning which the Greek priests(who are the greatest scoundrels in the universe) haveinvented, out of their own heads, a thousand ridiculousstories, in order to decry the law of Mahomet; torun it down, I say, without any examination, or somuch as letting the people read it; being afraid,that if once they began to sift the defects of thealcoran, they might not stop there, but proceed tomake use of their judgment about their own legendsand fictions. In effect, there is nothing solike as the fables of the Greeks and of the Mahometans;and the last have multitudes of saints, at whose tombsmiracles are by them said to be daily performed; norare the accounts of the lives of those blessed musselmansmuch less stuffed with extravagancies, than the spiritualromances of the Greek papas.

AS to your next inquiry, I assure you, ’tiscertainly false, though commonly believed in our partsof the world, that Mahomet excludes women from anyshare in a future happy state. He was too mucha gentleman, and loved the fair sex too well, to usethem so barbarously. On the contrary, he promisesa very fine paradise to the Turkish women. Hesays, indeed, that this paradise will be a separateplace from that of their husbands; but I fancy themost part of them won’t like it the worse forthat; and that the regret of this separation will

not render their paradise the less agreeable. It remains to tell you, that the virtues which Mahometrequires of the women, to merit the enjoyment of futurehappiness, are, not to live in such a manner as tobecome useless to the world, but to employ themselves,as much as possible, in making little musselmans. The virgins, who die virgins, and the widows whomarry not again, dying in mortal sin, are excludedout of paradise: For women, says he, not beingcapable to manage the affairs of state, nor to supportthe fatigues of war, God has not ordered them to governor reform the world; but he has entrusted them withan office which is not less honourable; even thatof multiplying the human race: and such as, outof malice or laziness, do not make it their businessto bear or to breed children, fulfil not the dutyof their vocation, and rebel against the commandsof God. Here are maxims for you, prodigiouslycontrary to those of your convents. What willbecome of your St Catharines, your St Theresas, yourSt Claras, and the whole bead-roll of your holy virginsand widows; who, if they are to be judged by thissystem of virtue, will be found to have been infamouscreatures, that passed their whole lives in most abominablelibertinism.

I KNOW not what your thoughts may be, concerning adoctrine so extraordinary with respect to us; butI can truly inform you, Sir, that the Turks are notso ignorant as we fancy them to be in matters of politics,or philosophy, or even of gallantry. ’Tistrue, that military discipline, such as now practisedin Christendom, does not mightily suit them. A long peace has plunged them into an universal sloth. Content with their condition, and accustomed to boundlessluxury, they are become great enemies to all mannerof fatigues. But, to make amends, the sciencesflourish among them. The effendis (that is tosay, the learned) do very well deserve this name:They have no more faith in the in inspiration of Mahomet,than in the infallibility of the Pope. Theymake a frank profession of Deism among themselves,or to those they can trust; and never speak of theirlaw but as of a politic institution, fit now to beobserved by wise men, however at first introducedby politicians and enthusiasts.

IF I remember right, I think I have told you, in someformer letter, that, at Belgrade, we lodged with agreat and rich effendi, a man of wit and learning,and of a very agreeable humour. We were in hishouse about a month, and he did constantly eat withus, drinking wine without any scruple. As Irallied him a little on this subject, he answeredme, smiling, that all creatures in the world were madefor the pleasure of man; and that God would not havelet the vine grow, were it a sin to taste of its juice;but that, nevertheless, the law, which forbids theuse of it to the vulgar, was very wise, because suchsort of folks have not sense enough to take it withmoderation. This effendi appeared no strangerto the parties that prevail among us: Nay, heseemed to have some knowledge of our religious disputes,and even of our writers; and I was surprised to hearhim ask, among other things, how Mr Toland did.

MY paper, large as it is, draws towards an end. That I may not go beyond its limits, I must leapfrom religions to tulips, concerning which you askme news. Their mixture produces surprising effects.But, what is to be observed most surprising, are theexperiments of which you speak concerning animals,and which are tried here every day. The suburbsof Pera, Jophana, and Galata, are collections of strangersfrom all countries of the universe. They haveso often intermarried, that this forms several racesof people, the oddest imaginable. There is notone single family of natives that can value itselfon being unmixed. You frequently see a person,whose father was born a Grecian, the mother an Italian,the grandfather a Frenchman, the grandmother an Armenian,and their ancestors English, Muscovites, Asiatics,&c.

THIS mixture produces creatures more extraordinarythan you can imagine; nor could I ever doubt, butthere were several different species of men; sincethe 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 NovaZemblians, have as specific differences, under thesame general kind, as grey-hounds, mastiffs, spaniels,bull-dogs, or the race of my little Diana, if nobodyis offended at the comparison. Now, as the variousintermixing of these latter animals causes mongrels,so mankind have their mongrels too, divided and subdividedinto endless sorts. We have daily proofs ofit here, as I told you before. In the same animalis not seldom remarked the Greek perfidiousness, theItalian diffidence, the Spanish arrogance, the Frenchloquacity; and, all of a sudden, he is seized witha fit of English thoughtfulness, bordering a littleupon dulness, which many of us have inherited fromthe stupidity of our Saxon progenitors. But thefamily which charms me most, is that which proceedsfrom the fantastical conjunction of a Dutch male witha Greek female. As these are natures oppositein extremes, ’tis a pleasure to observe howthe differing atoms are perpetually jarring togetherin the children, even so as to produce effects visiblein their external form. They have the large blackeyes of the country, with the fat, white, fishy fleshof Holland, and a lively air streaked with dulness. At one and the same time, they shew that love ofexpensiveness, so universal among the Greeks, andan inclination to the Dutch frugality. To givean example of this; young women ruin themselves, topurchase jewels for adorning their heads, while theyhave not the heart to buy new shoes, or rather slippersfor their feet, which are commonly in a tattered condition;a thing so contrary to the taste of our English women,that it is for shewing how neatly their feet are dressed,and for shewing this only, they are so passionatelyenamoured with their hoop petticoats. I haveabundance of other singularities to communicate toyou; but I am at the end, both of my French and mypaper.

CONCERNING

Monsieur de la ROCHEFOUCAULT’S Maxim—"Thatmarriage is sometimes “convenient but neverdelightful."

IT may be thought a presumptuous attempt in me tocontrovert a maxim advanced by such a celebrated geniusas Monsieur Rochefoucault, and received with suchimplicit faith by a nation which boasts of superiorpoliteness to the rest of the world, and which, fora long time past, has prescribed the rules of gallantryto all Europe.

NEVERTHELESS, prompted by that ardour which truthinspires, I dare to maintain the contrary, and resolutelyinsist, that there are some marriages formed by love,which may be delightful, where the affections aresympathetic. Nature has presented us with pleasuressuitable to our species, and we need only to followher impulse, refined by taste, and exalted by a livelyand agreeable imagination, in order to attain themost perfect felicity of which human nature is susceptible. Ambition, avarice, vanity, when enjoyed in the mostexquisite perfection, can yield but trifling and tastelesspleasures, which will be too inconsiderable to affecta mind of delicate sensibility.

WE may consider the gifts of fortune as so many stepsnecessary to arrive at felicity, which we can neverattain, being obliged to set bounds to our desires,and being only gratified with some of her frivolousfavours, which are nothing more than the torments oflife, when they are considered as the necessary meansto acquire or preserve a more exquisite felicity.

THIS felicity consists alone in friendship, foundedon mutual esteem, fixed by gratitude, supported byinclination, and animated by the tender solicitudesof love, whom the ancients have admirably describedunder the appearance of a beautiful infant: Itis pleased with infantine amusem*nts; it is delicateand affectionate, incapable of mischief, delightedwith trifles; its pleasures are gentle and innocent.

THEY have given a very different representation ofanother passion, too gross to be mentioned, but ofwhich alone men, in general, are susceptible. This they have described under the figure of a satyr,who has more of the brute than of the man in his composition. By this fabulous animal they have expressed a passion,which is the real foundation of all the fine exploitsof modish gallantry, and which only endeavours toglut its appetite with the possession of the objectwhich is most lovely in its estimation: A passionfounded in injustice, supported by deceit, and attendedby crimes, remorse, jealousy, and contempt. Can such an affection be delightful to a virtuousmind? Nevertheless, such is the delightful attendanton all illicit engagements; gallants are obliged toabandon all those sentiments of honour which are inseparablefrom a liberal education, and are doomed to live wretchedlyin the constant pursuit of what reason condemns, tohave all their pleasures embittered by remorse, andto be reduced to the deplorable condition of havingrenounced virtue, without being able to make viceagreeable.

IT is impossible to taste the delights of love inperfection, but in a well assorted marriage; nothingbetrays such a narrowness of mind as to be governedby words. What though custom, for which goodreasons may be assigned, has made the words husbandand wife somewhat ridiculous? A husband,in common acceptation, signifies a jealous brute,a surly tyrant; or, at best, a weak fool, who may bemade to believe any thing. A wife is a domestictermagant, who is destined to deceive or torment thepoor devil of a husband. The conduct of marriedpeople, in general, sufficiently justifies these twocharacters.

BUT, as I said before, why should words impose uponus? A well regulated marriage is not like theseconnections of interest or ambition. A fondcouple, attached to each other by mutual affection,are two lovers who live happily together. Thoughthe priest pronounces certain words, though the lawyerdraws up certain instruments; yet I look on thesepreparatives in the same light as a lover considersa rope-ladder which he fastens to his mistress’swindow: If they can but live together, what doesit signify at what price, or by what means, theirunion is accomplished. Where love is real, and,well founded, it is impossible to be happy but in thequiet enjoyment of the beloved object; and the priceat which it is obtained, does not lessen the vivacityand delights of a passion, such as my imaginationconceives. If I was inclined to romance, I wouldnot picture images of true happiness in Arcadia. I am not prudish enough to confine the delicacy ofaffection to wishes only. I would open my romancewith the marriage of a couple united by sentiment,taste, and inclination. Can we conceive a higherfelicity, than the blending of their interests andlives in such an union? The lover has the pleasureof giving his mistress the last testimony of esteemand confidence; and she, in return, commits her peaceand liberty to his protection. Can they exchangemore dear and affectionate pledges? Is it notnatural, to give the most incontestible proofs ofthat tenderness with which our minds are impressed? I am sensible, that some are so nice as to maintain,that the pleasures of love are derived from the dangersand difficulties with which it is attended; they verypertly observe, that a rose would not be a rose withoutthorns. There are a thousand insipid remarksof this sort, which make so little impression on me,that I am persuaded, was I a lover, the dread of injuringmy mistress would make me unhappy, if the enjoymentof her was attended with danger to herself.

TWO married lovers lead very different lives:They have the pleasure to pass their time in a successiveintercourse of mutual obligations and marks of benevolence;and they have the delight to find, that each formsthe entire happiness of the beloved object. Hereinconsists perfect felicity. The most trivial concernsof economy become noble and elegant, when they areexalted by sentiments of affection: To furnishan apartment, is not barely to furnish an apartment;it is a place where I expect my lover: To preparea supper, is not merely giving orders to my cook;it is an amusem*nt to regale the object I dote on. In this light, a woman considers these necessaryoccupations, as more lively and affecting pleasuresthan those gaudy sights which amuse the greater partof the sex, who are incapable of true enjoyment.

A FIXED and affectionate attachment softens everyemotion of the soul, and renders every object agreeablewhich presents itself to the happy lover (I mean onewho is married to his mistress). If he exercisesany employment, the fatigues of the camp, the troublesof the court, all become agreeable, when he reflects,that he endures these inconveniences to serve theobject of his affections. If fortune is favourableto him, (for success does not depend on merit) allthe advantages it procures, are so many tributes whichhe thinks due to the charms of the lovely fair; and,in gratifying this ambition, he feels a more livelypleasure, and more worthy of an honest man, than thatof raising his fortune, and gaining public applause. He enjoys glory, titles, and riches, no farther thanas they regard her he loves; and when he attractsthe approbation of a senate, the applause of an army,or the commendation of his prince, it is her praiseswhich ultimately flatter him.

IN a reverse of fortune, he has the consolation ofretiring to one who is affected by his disgrace; and,locked in her embraces, he has the satisfaction ofgiving utterance to the following tender reflections:“My happiness does not depend on the capriceof fortune; “I have a constant asylum againstinquietude. Your esteem renders me “insensibleof the injustice of a court, or the ingratitude ofa “master; and my losses afford me a kind ofpleasure, since they “furnish me with freshproofs of your virtue and affection. Of what“use is grandeur to those who are already happy? We have no need of “flatterers, we want noequipages; I reign in your affections, and I “enjoyevery delight in the possession of your person.”

IN short, there is no situation in which melancholymay not be assuaged by the company of the belovedobject. Sickness itself is not without its alleviation,when we have the pleasure of being attended by herwe love. I should never conclude, if I attemptedto give a detail of all the delights of an attachment,wherein we meet with every thing which can flatterthe senses with the most lively and diffusive raptures.

But I must not omit taking notice of the pleasureof beholding the lovely pledges of a tender friendship,daily growing up, and of amusing ourselves, accordingto our different sexes, in training them to perfection. We give way to this agreeable instinct of nature,refined by love. In a daughter, we praise thebeauty of her mother; in a son, we commend the understanding,and the appearance of innate probity, which we esteemin his father. It is a pleasure which, accordingto Moses, the Almighty himself enjoyed, when he beheldthe work of his hands; and saw that all was good.

SPEAKING of Moses, I cannot forbear observing, thatthe primitive plan of felicity infinitely surpassesall others; and I cannot form an idea Of paradise,more like a paradise, than the state in which ourfirst parents were placed: That proved of shortduration, because they were unacquainted with theworld; and it is for the same reason, that so fewlove matches prove happy. Eve was like a sillychild, and Adam was not much enlightened. Whensuch people come together, their being amorous isto no purpose, for their affections must necessarilybe short-lived. In the transports of their love,they form supernatural ideas of each other. The man thinks his mistress an angel, because sheis handsome; and she is enraptured with the meritof her lover, because he adores her. The firstdecay of her complexion deprives her of his adoration;and the husband, being no longer an adorer, becomeshateful to her who had no other foundation for herlove. By degrees, they grow disgustful (sic)to each other; and, after the example of our firstparents, they do not fail to reproach each other Withthe crime of their mutual imbecillity (sic).After indifference, contempt comes apace, and theyare convinced, that they must hate each other, becausethey are married. Their smallest defects swellin each other’s view, and they grow blind tothose charms, which, in any other object, would affectthem. A commerce founded merely on sensationcan be attended with no other consequences.

A MAN, when he marries the object of his affections,should forget that she appears to him adorable, andshould consider her merely as a mortal, subject todisorders, caprice, and ill temper; he should armhimself with fortitude, to bear the loss of her beauty,and should provide himself with a fund of complaisance,which is requisite to support a constant intercoursewith a person, even of the highest understanding andthe greatest equanimity. The wife, on the otherhand, should not expect a continued course of adulationand obedience, she should dispose herself to obeyin her turn with a good grace: A science verydifficult to attain, and consequently the more estimablein the opinion of a man who is sensible of the merit. She should endeavour to revive the charms of themistress, by the solidity and good sense of the friend.

WHEN a pair who entertain such rational sentiments,are united by indissoluble bonds, all nature smilesupon them, and the most common objects appear delightful. In, my opinion, such a life is infinitely more happyand more voluptuous, than the most ravishing and bestregulated gallantry.

A WOMAN who is capable of reflection, can considera gallant in no other light than that of a seducer,who would take advantage of her weakness, to procurea momentary pleasure, at the expence of her glory,her peace, her honour, and perhaps, her life. A highwayman, who claps a pistol to your breast,to rob you of your purse, is less dishonest and lessguilty; and I have so good an opinion of myself, asto believe, that if I was a man, I should be as capableof assuming the character of an assassin, as thatof defiling an honest woman, esteemed in the world,and happy in her husband, by inspiring her with apassion, to which she must sacrifice her honour, hertranquillity, and her virtue.

SHOULD I make her despicable, who appears amiablein my eyes? Should I reward her tenderness,by making her abhorred by her family, by renderingher children indifferent to her, and her husband detestible(sic)? I believe that these reflections wouldhave appeared to me in as strong a light, if my sexhad not rendered them excusable in such cases; andI hope, that I should have had more sense, than toimagine vice the less vicious, because it is the fashion.

N. B. I AM much pleased with the Turkish manners;a people, though ignorant, yet, in my judgment, extremelypolite. A gallant, convicted of having debaucheda married Woman, is regarded as a pernicious being,and held in the same abhorrence as a prostitute withus. He is certain of never making his fortune;and they would deem it scandalous to confer any considerableemployment on a man suspected of having committedsuch enormous injustice.

WHAT would these moral people think of our antiknights-errant,who are ever in pursuit of adventures to reduce innocentvirgins to distress, and to rob virtuous women oftheir honour; who regard beauty, youth, rank, nayvirtue itself, as so many incentives, which inflametheir desires, and render their efforts more eager;and who, priding themselves in the glory of appearingexpert seducers, forget, that with all their endeavours,they can only acquire the second rank in that nobleorder, the devil having long since been in possessionof the first?

OUR barbarous manners are so well calculated for theestablishment of vice and wretchedness, which areever inseparable, that it requires a degree of understandingand sensibility, infinitely above the common, to relishthe felicity of a marriage, such as I have described.Nature is so weak, and so prone to change, that itis difficult to maintain the best grounded constancy,in the midst of those dissipations, which our ridiculouscustoms have rendered unavoidable.

IT must pain an amorous husband, to see his wife takeall the fashionable liberties; it seems harsh notto allow them; and, to be conformable, he is reducedto the necessity of letting every one take them thatwill; to hear her impart the charms of her understandingto all the world, to see her display her bosom atnoon-day, to behold her bedeck herself for the ball,and for the play, and attract a thousand and a thousand(sic) adorers, and listen to the insipid flatteryof a thousand and a thousand coxcombs. Is itpossible to preserve an esteem for such a creature?or, at least, must not her value be greatly diminishedby such a commerce?

I MUST still resort to the maxims of the East, wherethe most beautiful women are content to confine thepower of their charms to him who has a right to enjoythem; and they are too sincere, not to confess, thatthey think themselves capable of exciting desires.

I RECOLLECT a conversation that I had with a ladyof great quality at Constantinople, (the most amiablewoman I ever knew in my life, and with whom I afterwardscontracted the closest friendship.) She frankly acknowledged,that she was satisfied with her husband. Whatlibertines, said she, you Christian ladies are! youare permitted to receive visits from as many men asyou think proper, and your laws allow you the unlimiteduse of love and wine. I assured her, that shewas wrong informed, and that it was criminal to listento, or to love, any other than our husbands. “Your husbands are great fools,” shereplied smiling, “to be content with so precariousa fidelity. “Your necks, your eyes, yourhands, your conversation are all for the “public,and what do you pretend to reserve for them? Pardon me, “my pretty sultana,” she added,embracing me, “I have a strong “inclinationto believe all that you tell me, but you would impose“impossibilities upon me. I know the filthinessof the infidels; I “perceive that you are ashamed,and I will say no more.”

I FOUND so much good sense and propriety in what shesaid, that I knew not how to contradict her; and,at length, I acknowledged, that she had reason toprefer the Mahometan manners to our ridiculous customs,which form a confused medley of the rigid maxims ofChristianity, with all the libertinism (sic) of theSpartans: And, notwithstanding our absurd manners,I am persuaded, that a woman who is determined toplace her happiness in her husband’s affections,should abandon the extravagant desire of engaging publicadoration; and that a husband, who tenderly loveshis wife, should, in his turn, give up the reputationof being a gallant. You find that I am supposinga very extraordinary pair; it is not very surprising,therefore, that such an union should be uncommon inthose countries, where it is requisite to conformto established customs, in order to be happy.

VERSES

Written in the Chiask, at Pera, overlooking Constantinople,December 26th, 1718.

By Lady MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE.

GIVE me, great God! Said I, a little farm,
In summer shady, and in winter warm;
Where a clear spring gives birth to murm’ringbrooks,
By nature gliding down the mossy rocks.
Not artfully by leading pipes convey’d,
Or greatly falling in a forc’d cascade,
Pure and unsully’d winding thro’ the shade.
All-bounteous Heaven has added to my prayer
A softer climate, and a purer air.

OUR frozen ISLE now chilling winter binds,
Deform’d by rains, and rough with blasting winds;
The wither’d woods grow white with hoary frost,
By driving storms their verdant beauty lost,
The trembling birds their leafless covert shun,
And seek, in distant climes a warmer sun:
The water-nymphs their silent urns deplore,
Ev’n Thames benum’d’s a rivernow no more:
The barren meads no longer yield delight,
By glist’ring snows made painful to the sight.

HERE summer reigns with one eternal smile,
Succeeding harvests bless the happy soil.
Fair fertile fields, to whom indulgent Heaven
Has ev’ry charm of ev’ry season given;
No killing cold deforms the beauteous year,
The springing flowers no coming winter fear.
But as the parent Rose decays and dies,
The infant-buds with brighter colour rise,
And with fresh sweets the mother’s scent supplies,
Near them the Violet grows with odours blest,
And blooms in more than Tyrian purple drest;
The rich Jonquils their golden beams display,
And shine in glories emulating day;
The peaceful groves their verdant leaves retain,
The streams still murmur undefil’d with rain,
And tow’ring greens adorn the fruitful plain.
The warbling kind uninterrupted sing,
Warm’d with enjoyments of perpetual spring.

HERE, at my window, I at once survey
The crowded city and resounding sea;
In distant views the Asian mountains rise,
And lose their snowy summits in the skies;
Above those mountains proud Olympus towers,
The parliamental seat of heavenly powers.
New to the sight, my ravish’d eyes admire
Each gilded crescent and each antique spire,
The marble mosques, beneath whose ample domes
Fierce warlike sultans sleep in peaceful tombs;
Those lofty structures, once the Christians boast,
Their names, their beauty, and their honours lost;
Those altars bright with gold and sculpture grac’d,
By barb’rous zeal of savage foes defac’d:
Sophia alone her ancient name retains,
Tho’ unbelieving vows her shrine profanes;
Where holy saints have died in sacred cells,
Where monarchs pray’d, the frantic Dervisedwells.
How art thou fall’n, imperial city, low!
Where are thy hopes of Roman glory now?
Where are thy palaces by prelates rais’d?
Where Grecian artists all their skill display’d,
Before the happy sciences decay’d;
So vast, that youthful kings might here reside,
So splendid, to content a patriarch’s pride;
Convents where emperors profess’d of old,
Their labour’d pillars that their triumphs told;
Vain monuments of them that once were great,
Sunk undistinguish’d by one common fate;
One little spot, the tenure small contains,
Of Greek nobility, the poor remains.
Where other Helens with like powerful charms,
Had once engag’d the warring world in arms;
Those names which royal ancestors can boast,
In mean mechanic arts obscurely lost:
Those eyes a second Homer might inspire,
Fix’d at the loom destroy their useless fire;
Griev’d at a view which struck upon my mind
The short-liv’d vanity of human kind.

IN gaudy objects I indulge my sight,
And turn where Eastern pomp gives gay delight;
See the vast train in various habits drest,
By the bright scimitar and sable vest,
The proud vizier distinguish’d o’er therest;
Six slaves in gay attire his bridle hold,
His bridle rich with gems, and stirrups gold;
His snowy steed adorn’d with costly pride,
Whole troops of soldiers mounted by his side,
These top the plumy crest Arabian courtiers guide.
With artful duty, all decline their eyes,
No bellowing shouts of noisy crowds arise;
Silence, in solemn state, the march attends,
Till at the dread divan the slow procession ends.

YET not these prospects all profusely gay,
The gilded navy that adorns the sea,
The rising city in confusion fair,
Magnificently form’d irregular;
Where woods and palaces at once surprise,
Gardens on gardens, domes on domes arise,
And endless beauties tire the wand’ring eyes;
So sooth my wishes, or so charm my mind,
As this retreat secure from human kind.
No knave’s successful craft does spleen excite,
No coxcomb’s tawdry splendour shocks my sight;
No mob-alarm awakes my female fear,
No praise my mind, nor envy hurts my ear,
Ev’n fame itself can hardly reach me here:
Impertinence with all her tattling train,
Fair-sounding flattery’s delicious bane;
Censorious folly, noisy party-rage
The thousand tongues with which she must engage,
Who dares have virtue in a vicious age.

VERSES

TO THE Lady MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE,

By Mr POPE.

I.

IN beauty or wit,
No mortal as yet
To question your empire has dar’d;
But men of discerning
Have thought that in learning,
To yield to a lady was hard.

II.

Impertinent schools,
With musty dull rules
Have reading to females deny’d;
So papists refuse
The BIBLE to use,
Lest flocks should be wise as their guide.

III.

’Twas a woman at first
(Indeed she was curst)
In knowledge that tasted delight;
And sages agree,
The laws should decree
To the first possessor the right.

IV.

Then bravely, fair dame,
Renew the old claim,
Which to your whole sex does belong,
And let men receive,
From a second bright Eve,
The knowledge of right and of wrong.

V.

But if the first Eve
Hard doom did receive,
When only one apple had she,
What a punishment new
Shall be found out for you,
Who tasting have robb’d the whole tree?

A SUMMARY OF THE CONTENTS.

LET. 1. From Rotterdam.—Voyageto Helvoetsluys—general view
ofRotterdam—remarks on the female dressesthere.

LET. II. From the Hague.—Thepleasure of travelling in
Holland—theHague—the Voorhout there.

LET. III. From Nimeguen.—Nimeguencompared to Nottingham—the
Belvidera—thebridge—ludicrous service at the French
church.

LET. IV. From Cologn.—Journeyfrom Nimeguen to Cologn—the
Jesuitschurch—plate—relics—thesculls of the eleven
thousandvirgins.

LET. V. From Nuremberg.—Differencebetween the free towns,
andthose under absolute princes—the good effectsof
sumptuarylaws—humorous remarks on relics, and the
absurdrepresentations in the churches at Nuremberg.

LET. VI. From Ratisbon.—Ridiculousdisputes concerning
punctiliosamong the envoys at the Diet—the churches
andrelics—silver image of the Trinity.

LET. VII. From Vienna.—Voyagefrom Ratisbon down the Danube—
generaldescription of Vienna—the houses—furniture—
entertainments—theFauxbourg—Count Schoonbourn’s
villa.

LET. VIII. Vienna.—Operain the garden of the Favorita—
playhouseand representation of the story of
Amphitrion.

LET. IX. Vienna.—Dressof the ladies—Lady M’s reception at
court—personof the empress—customs of the
drawing-room—theemperor—empress Amelia,—how seated
attable—maids of honour, their office and
qualifications—dressers—audienceof the
empress-mother—herextraordinary piety—mourning dress
ofthe ladies at Vienna—audience of the empress
Amelia—shooting-matchby ladies.

LET. X. Vienna.—Viennaa paradise for old women—different
acceptationof the word reputation at London and at
Vienna—neithercoquettes nor prudes at Vienna—every
ladypossessed both of a nominal and real husband—
gallantoverture to lady M. to comply with this custom.

LET. XI. Vienna—Phlegmaticdisposition of the Austrians—
humorousanecdote of a contest upon a point of ceremony
—widowsnot allowed any rank at Vienna—pride of
ancestry—marriageportions limited—different
treatmentof ambassadors and envoys at Court.

LET. XII. Vienna.—Dressand assemblies of the Austrian
ladies—galadays—convent of St Lawrence—woodenhead
ofour Saviour—dress of the Nuns—theiramusem*nts—
particularsconcerning a beautiful Nun—reflections on
themonastic state, &c.

LET. XIII. Vienna.—Descriptionof the emperor’s repository.

LET. XIV. From Prague.—Generalstate of Bohemia—Prague
describedwith reference to Vienna.

LET. XV. From Leipzig.—Dangerousjourney from Prague to
Leipzig—characterof Dresden—the Saxon and Austrian
ladiescompared—anecdotes of the countess of Cozelle—
Leipzigand its fair described.

LET. XVI. From Brunswick.—Brunswick,for what considerable.

LET. XVII. From Hanover.—Badregululations of the post in
Germany—characterof the young prince (afterwards king
GeorgeII.)—short account of Hanover—viewof the
countryin travelling through Germany, compared with
England.

LET. XVIII. Hanover.—Descriptionof the women at Hanover—the
traineausor snow-sledges described—particulars ofthe
empressof Germany.

LET. XIX. Blankenburg.—Motiveof Lady M’s journey to
Blankenburg—herreception by the duch*ess of
Blankenburg—thedescription of Hanover continued—
perfectionto which fruit is brought by means of stoves
atHerenhausen—recommendation of chamber-stoves.

LET. XX. From Vienna.—Diversionsof the carnival—remarks on
themusic and balls—the Italian comedy—theair and
weatherat Vienna—the markets and provisions.

LET. XXI. Vienna.—Lady M’saudience of leave—absurd taste for
dwarfsat the German courts—reflections on thistaste
—remarkson the inhabitants of Vienna—a word or two
concerningprince Eugene, and the young prince of
Portugal.

LET. XXII. Vienna.—Reflectionson her intended journey to
Constantinople.

LET. XXIII. From Peterwaradin.—Journeyfrom Vienna hither—
receptionat Raab—visit from the bishop of Temeswar,
withhis character—description of Raab—its
revolutions—remarkson the state of Hungary, with the
EmperorLeopold’s persecution of his protestant
Hungariansubjects—description of Buda—its
revolutions—theinhabitants of Hungary—Essec
described—theHungarian ladies and their dress.

LET. XXIV. From Belgrade.—Characterof the Rascian soldiers—
theirpriests—appearance of the field of Carlowitz,
afterthe late battle between prince Eugene and the
Turks—receptionat, and account of Belgrade—the
murderof the late Bassa—character of Achmet Beg.

LET. XXV. From Adrianople.—Descriptionof the deserts and
inhabitantsof Servia—Nissa the capital—cruel
treatmentof the baggage-carriers by the janizaries—
someaccount of Sophia—Philippopolis—finecountry
aboutAdrianople.

LET. XXVI. Adrianople.—Entertainingaccount of the baths at
Sophia,and Lady M’s reception at them.

LET. XXVII. Adrianople.—Whyour account of the Turks are so
imperfect—oppressedcondition of the Servians—teeth
money,what—character of the Turkish effendis—farther
particularsof Achmet Beg—Mahometism like
Christianity,divided into many sectaries—remarks on
someof their notions—religion of the Arnounts—
conjecturesrelating to Trajan’s gate—presentview of
thecountry.

LET. XXVIII. From Adrianople.—Marriageof the grand signior’s
eldestdaughter—the nature of the Turkish government—
grandsignior’s procession to mosque—hisperson
described—particularsrelating to the French
ambassador’slady—character and behaviour of the
janizaries—thejanizaries formidable to the seraglio.

LET. XXIX. Adrianople.—LadyM. describes her Turkish dress—the
personsand manners of the Turklsh ladies—theirdress
whenthey go abroad—their address at intriguing—
possessedof more liberty than is generally imagined—
theplurality of wives allowed by the Koran seldom
indulged.

LET. XXX. Adrianople.—Mannerin which the Turks pass their time
—thepresent pastoral manners of the Easterns, a
confirmationof the descriptions in the Grecian
poets—givegreat light into many scripture
passages—specimenof Turkish poetry—a version given
byLady M. in the English style.

LET. XXXI. Adrianople.—Theplague not so terrible as represented
—accountof the Turkish method of inoculating the
small-pox.

LET. XXXII. Adrianople.—Descriptionof the camel—their use, and
methodof managing them—the buffalo—theTurkish
horses—theirveneration for storks—the Turkish
houses—whyEuropeans so ignorant Of the insides of the
Turkishhouses—their gardens—their mosquesand hanns.

LET. XXXIII. Adrianople.—LadyM’s visit to the grand vizier’s
lady—herperson described, and manner of entertaining
herguest—the victuals, &c.—visitto the kahya’s
lady,the fair Fatima—her person, dress, and engaging
behaviour—herwaiting-women—the Turkish music.

LET. XXXIV. Adrianople.—Descriptionof Adrianople—the exchange—
theprincipal traders Jews—the Turkish camp—
processionof the grand signior going to command his
troopsin person—the manner by which Turkish lovers
shewtheir affection for their mistresses—description
ofsultan Selim’s mosque—the seraglio—theyoung
princes.

LET. XXXV. From Constantinople.—Journeyfrom Adrianople—the
littleseraglio—the Greek church at Selivrea—singular
lodgingof a hogia or schoolmaster—general viewof
Pera—Constantinople—theirburial places and tombs—
mannerof renewing a marriage after a divorce—
unmarriedwomen, why supposed in Turkey to die in a
stateof reprobation—this notion compared withthe
catholicveneration for celibacy—the Eastern tastefor
antiquities.

LET. XXXVI. From Belgrade Village.—LadyM’s agreeable situation
there—diaryof her way of spending the week, compared
withthe modish way of spending time.

LET. XXXVII. Belgrade Village.—Turkishfemale slaves described—
voyagesto the Levant filled with untruths—balmof
Mecca,its extraordinary effects on the ladies faces—
Turkishladies great dealers in magic charms, to
commandlove.

LET. XXXVIII._From Pera of Constantinople_.—Barrennessdisgraceful
amongthe Turkish ladies—often destroy themselvesby
quackeryon this account—naturally prolific—the
Turkishhouses why liable to fire—mildness of the
winterat Constantinople—Turkish punishment for
convictedliars.

LET. XXXIX. Pera of Constantinople.—LadyM. brought to bed—
visitsthe sultana Hafiten—anecdotes of that lady—her
dress—entertainment—storyof the sultan’s throwing a
handkerchiefcontradicted—amusem*nts of the seraglio—
thesultana Hafiten’s gardens, bed chamber, and
slaves—theArabian tales, a true representation of
Easternmanners—magnificence of the Turkish harams—
visitto the fair Fatima—the characters of thesultana
Hafitenand Fatima compared—story of Fatima—
magnificenceof her habitation.

LET. XL. Pera.—Turkishlove-letter, with a translation—the
confusionof tongues spoke at Pera—Lady M. in danger
oflosing her English.

LET. XLI. —Suburbs of Constantinople—Turkishwater-man—
Constantinople,why not easy to be seen by Europeans—
pleasureof rowing down the Bosphorus—view of
Constantinoplefrom the water—the seraglio—Sancta
Sophia—themosque Of sultan Solyman—of sultana
Valida—theatlerdan—the brazen serpentine column—the
exchange—thebisisten—humanity of the Turks towards
theirslaves—the historical pillar fallen down—the
dervises—theirdevotion and dancing.

LET. XLII. —Mr Hill’s accountof the sweating pillar, and of the
Turkishladies, contradicted—manner of living ofthe
Turkishwives—ceremony of receiving a Turkish brideat
thebagnio—no public cognizance taken of murder—
generallycompounded for by money—story of a Christian
ladytaken prisoner by a Turkish admiral, who chose to
continuewith and marry her ravisher—the Turks great
veneratorsof truth—the Eastrn manner of adopting
children—accountof the Armenians—their strict
observanceof fasts—summary view of their religion—
ceremoniesat an Armenian marriage.

LET. XLIII. From Constantinople.—Observationson the accounts
givenby Sir Paul Rycaut and Gemelli—the canalbetween
Constantinopleand Calcedon—the precarious nature of
humangrandeur in Turky (sic)—description of thehouse
ofthe grand vizier who was killed at Peterwaradin—
moralreflections on the difference between the taste
ofthe Europeans and the Easterns.

LET. XLIV. From Tunis.—Vovagefrom Constantinople—the
Hellespont,and castles of Sestos and Abydos—
reflectionson the story of Hero and Leander—the
burial-placesof Hecuba and Achilles—antiquities—
habitsof the Greek peasants—conjectures as tothe
ruinsof a large city—remarks on the face of the
countryillustrated by reference to passages from
Homer—Troy,no remains of it existing—ruins of old
Constantinople—Latininscriptions, and remains of
antiquity—isleof Tenedos—Mytilene—Lesbos—Scio,and
itsinhabitants—promontory of Lunium the presentCape
Colonna—templeof Theseus, how destroyed present
conditionof the Morea, the ancient Peloponnesus—

Candia—reflectionson the contrast between ancient and
modernGreece—Trinacria—Malta—arrivalat Tunis—face
ofthe country—manner of celebrating the Mahometan
ramadanor Lent—the natives—ruins ofthe aqueduct of
Carthage—descriptionand chronological anecdotes of
thecity of Tunis—ruins of Carthage.

LET. XLV. From Genoa.—Descriptionof Genoa and its inhabitants
—Cizisbeis,the nature of their employment, and
occasionof their institution—the government—palaces
—paintings—remarkon their fondness for the
representationof crucifixes—church of St Lawrence,
andthe famous emerald plate—their churchesnot to be
comparedwith the Sancta Sophia at Constantinople.

LET. XLVI. From Turin.—Characterof Turin, its palaces and
churches—LadyM. waits on the queen—persons of the
kingand prince of Piedmont described.

LET. XLVII. From Lyons.—Journeyfrom Turin to Lyons—passage over
mountCenis—the frontier towns between Savoy and
France.

LET. XLVIII. From Lyons.—Reflectionson the insipidity of female
visits—theinscriptions on brass tables on each side
ofthe town-house at Lyons—remains of antiquity—
cathedralof St John—critique on the statue of Louis
XIV.

LET. XLIX. From Paris.—Miserablecondition of the French
peasants—palaceof Fontainbleau—fair of St
Lawrence—operahouse—general character of the French
actors—comparisonbetween the French and English
ladies.

LET. L. Paris.—Generalremarks on the palace of Versailles—
Trianon—Marli—StCloud—paintings at the house of the
Duked’Antin—the Thuilleries—theLouvre—behaviour of
MrLaw at Paris—Paris compared with London.

LET. LI. From Dover.—Ludicrousdistresses in the passage to
Dover—reflectionson travelling—brief comparison
betweenEngland and the rest of the world in general.

LET. LII. Dover.—Reflectionson the fates of John Hughes and
SarahDrew—epitaph on them.

LET. LIII. —Character of Mrs D—— and humorous representation
ofher intended marriage with a greasy curate—
anecdotesof another couple—remarks on the abuse of
theword nature; applied to the case of a husbandwho
insistedon his wife suckling her own child—
observationson the forbidding countenance of a worthy
gentleman.

LET. LIV. From Vienna.—Remarkson some illustrious personages
atthe court of Vienna—character of the poetRousseau
—alchymymuch studied at Vienna—prince Eugene’s
library.

LET. LV. —Victory of prince Eugeneover the Turks, and the
surrenderof Belgrade—the news how received at
Constantinople—contrastbetween European and Asiatic
manners—estimateof the pleasures of the seraglio—
observationson Mr Addison being appointed secretary of
state—MrAddison, Mr Pope, and Mr Congreve, in what
respectsthree happy poets—reflections on the Iliad,
andMr Pope’s translation of it.

LET. LVI. From Florence.—Remarkson the road between Bologna
andFlorence—visit to the monastery of La Trappe,with
reflectionson the monastic life—occasion of the
institutionof the order of La Trappe—the burning
mountainsnear Fierenzuola—general description of
Florence—thegrand gallery—the statues of Antinous
andVenus de Medicis—the first sketches of Raphael’s
cartoons—enviousbehaviour of modern painters, in
defacingthe productions of the ancients—digressions
tosome reports raised by Mr P. concerning the writer.

LET. LVII. —Remarks on Paris—reflectionson staring and
grinning—characterof the French people—criticism on
statuesin the gardens of Versailles—the gardens
comparedwith the royal gardens of England.

LET. LVIII. —Observations on thekoran, and the conduct of the
Greekpriests with regard to it—women not excluded
fromMahomet’s paradise—who among the womenexcluded—
theexhortations of Mahomet to the women, compared with
themonastic institution of popery—the sciences
cultivatedamong the Turks by the effendis—sentiments
ofan intelligent one respecting abstinence from wine—
strangemixture of different countries in the suburbs
ofConstantinople—different species of menasserted—
mongrelsin the human species—why the English womenso
fondof hoop-petticoats.

Inquiry into the truth of Monsieur Rochefoucault’smaxim, “That marriage is sometimes convenient,but never delightful.”

Verses written in the Chiask at Pera, overlookingConstantinople,
December 26th, 1718. By Lady Mary Wortley Montague.

Verses to Lady Mary Wortley Montague. By MrPope.

Letters of the Right Honourable Lady M—y W—y M—e eBook (2024)