 Mustafa II, 1695-1703 the Ottoman Sultan Welcome Mary Wortley Montagu, born January 19, 1718! I have to say, giving birth wasn’t half as mortifying here as it is in England. No one bothers laying in for an entire month and I was up and visiting friends again in three weeks time!
Just a few days ago, I went to visit Sultana Hafise, the favorite kadin of the last Emperor, Mustapha, who was deposed by his brother and died shortly after (they think he was poisoned!). The Sultan then forced her to marry, even though she begged him not to make her as she had vowed she would never sleep with another man. To prove her point, when she was forced to choose, she picked the secretary of state who was over 80 years old. Beyond his age, she chose him because he was the one who brought her to the former emperor. She is still in mourning today and could not talk about him without tearing up...
She was quite beautiful, though not nearly as beautiful as Fatima. It was her dress was what really stood out. She wore a vest called a dualma, which has longer sleeves than the caftan. It was purple and lined with pearls, with large gold loops as buttons. The whole things was tied with two large tassels of smaller pearl and the arms were lined with diamonds. She had three long necklaces on, one of pearl with a an emerald as big as a turkey egg! Her earrings eclipsed everything else though—two pear shaped diamonds the size of hazelnuts. She had four strings of pearls each as large as the Duchess of Marlborough’s! And her rings were the largest diamond rings I’ve ever seen (except for Mr.Pitt’s of course).
 Not quite as nice as the Sultana's
but you get the idea! We had a beautiful dinner, and the display on the table was equally as lovely as her dress. The napkins were so nice; I didn’t even want to wipe my hands on them! After dinner, we had coffee in gold soucoupes. Her home was equally as richly decorated as the table. Even her servants were dressed in gold.
Now I know you’re going to say that this sounds made up, like I copied right out of the Arabian tales, but this is what I actually saw! We travel bloggers have a hard time, we we only say what’s been said before we’re boring, but if we say anything new, suddenly we’re exaggerating and romanticizing what we see, so much so that should I come home, I won’t even discuss what I’ve seen with anyone.
I went to see Fatima yesterday as well, and if you don’t believe my descriptions above, you’ll never believe what I’ve seen in her palace! The Sultana was nice, but the grace and manners of court come so naturally to Fatima, she immediately inspires respect and tenderness and now that I am learning her language and can talk to her, I find her wit equally as charming! The servant I had with me couldn’t believe she was a Turkish Lady and thought she must be a Christian (and as it turns out, her mother is). I had to tell her what a stir her beauty would cause in London! And she, in her infinite sweetness, replied that if England valued beauty as much as I say they'ed never have let me leave!
This blog is getting way too long, so I’ll stop here before a turn into a downright storyteller. It may be a proverb that knowledge is no burden, but knowing too much will still most likely make us troublesome to other people…
 Gold encrusted with diamonds, composte service, Topkapi Museum.
I hope that you all have been getting my emails! The wifi has been iffy, though I did receive yours Mr. Pope, and you’ll be happy to know that, no, I am not dead and buried, although at times I feel I like I might as well be I care so little about what goes on at home. The heat of the city has driven us off to Belgrade Village, where I’m blogging from now. It’s very beautiful here and I feel so disconnected from what’s going on in the world I really might as well be a ghost. Although I do miss my friends, the things they tell me about home don’t excite me in any way and I can’t seem to care about the same old drama. As an admirable author once said:
That spirits departed are wondrous kind
To friends and relations left behind:
Which nobody can deny. [1]
Truth be told, I sometimes I really get tired of all the singing, and dancing, and sunshine (yea right) but I always try an persuade myself that I’m better off than you at home…
I spend my week reading English; studying the Turkish language, (which I am awesome at!) and classical authors; writing; sewing; seeing visitors, and listening to music-- a much better use of my time than, sitting drawing rooms and listening to all the same gossips and scandal, seeing the same follies acted over and over.
But of course, Mr. Pope, this apathy does not extend to you and I hope that you remember me, even though I'm dead to the world…Now, to my dear ladies, I'm sorry, but I can’t help but laugh at the outrageous things you're all are asking me! No, I will not be buying anyone a slave. The slaves kept here are brought up from a young age and very carefully educated to serve their ladies. Their patrons rarely sell them except as punishment for an extreme mistake, so they do not face the markets, and if they ever get tired of them, they give them to a friend or free them.
I know that this is not what you expect to hear and that the stories in England don’t sound like this at all, but you’ll have to take my word for it, because I’m here and I'm telling you the truth. All of you with your questions and assumptions are completely ignorant about what life is like here and it’s clear that you’ve derived your ideas from Dumont’s own ignorance. Really, reading these travel accounts is quite entertaining. They never fail to discuss women, which they definitely have not seen in their travels, speak of great men who they could never have gotten an audience with, and describe mosques which they were too afraid to even peep into.
Anyway…
I finally tried this Balm of Mecha (it’s hard to get but I’ll try and send some home soon!) and it made me break out like crazy! So be warned if you’re going to try it! Though, if we judge it’s effectiveness by the women here, it must be working; their skin is flawless.
Funny though, the women here seem to have quite a different way of getting noticed by men than looking good (which is what we do at home)—they pretend to have a magic, secret knowledge that gives them control over others. I couldn’t help but argue this point with one Lady, explaining that there’s no magic in a man playing the fool for a woman…but its no use, they all firmly believe in this power. Oh well, until next time!
Turkey feels like an entirely new world. I’m not going to bore you all with the details of our tedious journey, but I have to tell you what I saw in Sophia! It’s one of the most beautiful towns in the Turkish Empire and it’s famous for its hot baths. I purposely stopped in Sophia just to see the bathhouses. I hired a Turkish coach to drive me to the bagnio. The coach is entirely covered with scarlet cloth, lined with silk, and richly embroidered. So gorgeous! This covering hides the persons sitting inside, but can be thrown back. Many of the ladies peep through the lattices. When I arrived at the bathhouse at around 10 a.m., it was already filled with women. The bathhouse is built of stone and is in the shape of a dome. There weren’t any windows except for the roof, allowing a lot of light in. After I paid the portress who stands at the door (I noticed the ladies of quality paying her so I made sure to do the same), I entered a large, marble paved, room with four fountains of cold water; the water fell into basins first and then ran on to the floor in little channels which carried streams of water into the next room. There were also marble sofas, but they were so hot with steams of sulfur that you couldn’t possibly stay there with your clothes on.
Although I was not dressed like the women at the bathhouse (I just had one of my dresses on), they treated me with such kindness and civility. I am certain there isn’t a single lady back in England who would have treated a stranger with such politeness. They actually repeated over and over to me “Uzelle, pek uzelle,” which means, “Charming, very charming.”
They sat on sofas covered with cushions and rich carpets and their slaves sat behind them, but you couldn’t tell the difference in their social rank by their clothes because they were all…well, naked. However, there wasn’t anything sexually immodest about them! I cannot describe to you in words how utterly beautiful these women are. They walked and moved with the same grace that John Milton describes of Eve in Paradise Lost. They resembled the perfectly proportionate goddesses drawn by Guido and Titan, their skin is shiningly white, and their beautiful hair is divided into tresses and braided with either pearl or ribbon. I swear if it were the fashion to go naked, their faces wouldn’t be noticed. I greatly admired their fine skin and perfect body shapes. I secretly wished that Mr. Gervase [1] had the ability to go invisible and observe these ladies in their different postures, some lying on their cushions, others conversing, braiding hair, working, or drinking coffee…I think it would improve his art ;)
One of the women insisted I sit by her and undress for the bath. The ladies were adamant in persuading me to undress, but I had to refuse. In the end, I was forced to open my dress and show them my corset, which satisfied them. They couldn’t believe I was so locked up in that machine and they attributed my wearing it to my husband.
I wanted to spend more time with the women but Mr. W wanted to continue our journey to Constantinople early the next day, so I left before I really wanted. Anyway, I’m sure I entertained you with a sight you’ve never seen in your life and no male, travel book can inform you of! It is like death for a man to be caught in one of these places.
Welcome to my first post! I'm Lady Mary Wortley Montagu and I'm so excited to share my travels with all of you! Thank you for all of your emails and tweets! I'm in Belgrade now, about to set out to Adrianople and finally really begin my travels through Turkey!
 The first half of my trip around Europe! We stayed about 6 months before we headed on to Turkey! We first arrived in Rotterdam (see pics on twitter, @Lady_Mary_WM) and then traveled to The Hague, Cologn, and Nuremburg on our way to Vienna. The culture in Vienna is wonderful! I hate to say it, but I've strayed so far from the discipline of the church as to see an opera, Angelica's Victory Over Alcina by Johann Josef Fux, at the Garden of The Favorita and I LOVED it (don't judge me, Mr. Pope)! It was so dynamic and there were so many scene changes! Check out this short recording I did at the show!
In Vienna, I had a private audience with the Empress, (Elisabeth Christine of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel) and spent time with the ladies at court. I have to tell you about the beauty of the Empress! Forgive my poetics, but even the all the words the poets have said of Juno and Venus could not measure up to her. She has the most amazing smile, fine hair, and perfect grace: even The Venus de' Medici was not more perfectly formed. Anyway, while I was visiting, I saw many ladies of the court and I have to say that fashion in Vienna is much different than England and France and much less practical. Women's hairstyles are a bit odd too. They build up their hair so high on their heads using piles of gauze and ribbon and cover it in powder and jewels to hide it. It seems far outside the realm of common sense, but even the Empress, as lovely as she is, must comply!
The only thing that's similar to our fashion in England is the petticoat, and that has ours outnumbered by a few yards . Sometimes the women just wear a scarf with anything they like underneath. Whenever the ladies feel like getting dressed up, they declare it Days of Gala and everyone comes over in their best outfits. They wear clothes embroidered in rich gold--but they don't seem to show much taste to them provided they are expensive!  Portrait of Elisabeth Christine of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel by Johann Gottfried Auerbach (1697–1753) One thing I do love about Vienna is the way the "older" women are treated. Here, a women of 35 is considered a young girl and is treated as young a beautiful! What a relief this would be to many young women in England who are already considered old maids; if only they had been born here instead! In Vienna, I was also encouraged to take a lover, though none of the women are coquettes or prudes. Here it seems that women are respected more based on the rank of their lovers than their husbands. It is quite common knowledge, even an expectation, that a women will take a lover; the ladies here couldn't understand why I would disgrace myself by not having a little intrigue. The women even control their lovers' estate and fortune. A young count even asked me to engage in a little affair of the heart! Obviously I said no, and had this happened in England, I would have been more offended but I spent enough time in Vienna to know that he was simply doing what he was obligated to do. "Gallantry and good breeding are as different in different climates as morality and religion" (66).
Marriage laws in Vienna are quite different from England, not that I know much about these things. Here it seems that dowries are limited to about 2,000 florins (about 200) and whatever money a woman possesses outside of the dowry is hers; her husband can't seize it or control what she does with it. As a result, many women end up wealthier than their husbands! But unfortunately, widows have no place in Vienna as they lose their rank when their husbands die.
 Basilica of St. Ursula's I know that you all expect to hear about the churches and convents. In Cologne, we toured the Basilica of St. Usrula's and it was beautifully decorated with rich images of saints, relics, and tons of pearls, diamonds, and rubies. I have to admit, I even found myself looking quite longingly at St. Ursula's pearl necklace…
In Vienna, I visited the convents, and St. Lawerence's was easily my favorite because of its ease and neatness. It seems much easier to live with than the nastiness and perpetual state of penance at the other convents. I couldn't help but laugh when they showed me a wooden head of our Savior that they swore spoke during the siege of Vienna (they said the open mouth was proof!). Here's a short video of the Chamber of the Bones in St. Ursula's, alleged to contain
the bones of martyred Princess and the 11,000 virgins who were massacred by the Huns (51). After all of this time in Vienna, we spent some time in Prague and Hanover, stopping at Leipzig and Brunswick in between. On the road to Leipzig I swear we almost died, the roads were so dangerous along the River Elbe. Mr. W slept through it all and I, being a good wife, didn't wake him. We barely stopped in Dresden, though I wish we could have stayed longer. The Saxon ladies as so affected, they would think it a mortal sin if they spoke or moved in a natural way.
In Hanover, the women are absolutely beautiful with rosy cheeks, snowy complexions, and coal black hair. The opera house too is much finer than the one in Vienna. We saw the Herrenhausen Gardens which were covered in snow, but still beautiful! There were so many orange trees! A brief video of the gardens We traveled back to Vienna and attended a carnival. Because of the war with the Turks, we weren't allowed to wear the typical carnival masks. We eventually left Vienna and arrived in Gyor, Hungary. For a long time, Gyor was the frontier between the Turkish and German empires. The Turks tried to conquer it many times, sometime successfully, but in the end, the Germans regained control. We continued our travels through beautiful and fruitful plains between Nosmuhl and Buda, but most of the region remains like a desert because of the long war with the Turks and the Emperor. Even worse were the towns of Adam and Fodowar, which are largely forest-like; this part of the country was better off when the Turks ruled. Because it's so little frequented, it was surprising to see the vast number of wild fowl, "which often live here to a good old age and undisturbed by Guns in quiet Sleep."
 The second half of my journey to Turkey! We took our time and traveled cross-country from Vienna to Belgrade, and soon I'll be in Adrianople! We then passed through Mohatch, Danube, Esseek, and finally Bocowar where we waited until everything was clear concerning our crossing into the Turkish frontier. We were promised by General Bassa Seraskier to be well received in Turkey! We were told that we would be escorted by a Turkish convoy in Betsko, a village between Peterwaradin and Belgrade. When we finally arrived in Betsko, we were met by Turkish soldiers and then made our way to Belgrade. Belgrade is a strong city conquered by the Grand Vizier and strengthened by the numerous garrisons of the bravest soldiers who are commanded by the Bassa. Franky, I did not feel very comfortable here. We were expecting to leave in one night but the Bassa had detained us until he received orders from Adrianople.
Fortunately, we stayed in one of the best houses here and I made friends with our host, Achmet-Beg, whose father was a great Bassa. He dined with us every night and drank wine freely. He was so happy with the liberty of conversing with me; he explained to me some pieces of Arabian poetry, which are generally written in alternate verse, and are rather musical. Their expressions of love were so passionate and lively, and I noticed they were not so different from our own English poetry! I impressed Achmet-Beg by retelling some of the Persian tales that I know. He has such wit and is much more polite than many of our own Christian men back home.
However, these amusements did not hinder me from wanting to leave this place. I'll be leaving Belgrade for Turkey tomorrow. Make sure to follow me here on the blog and my on Twitter @Lady_Mary_WM to stay updated on my adventures in Turkey! *This post references letter 1-25 of The Turkish Embassy Letters, see the full-text here*
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Mustafa II, 1695-1703 the Ottoman Sultan 
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