No More Learning

PAUL SHOREY, PH. D. ,
Professor of Greek and Latin Literature,
UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO, Chicago, Ill.
WILLIAM T. HARRIS, LL. D. ,
United States Commissioner of Education,
BUREAU OF EDUCATION, Washington, D. C.
MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN, A. M. , LL. D. ,
Id
Professor of Literature in the
CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA, Washington, D. C.


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A
TABLE OF CONTENTS
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
VOL. XVIII
To E. W. Montagu, Esq.
To the Same
MONTESQUIEU
To Mr. Pope
To Mrs. S. C.
To the Countess of Mar
MICHEL EYQUEM DE MONTAIGNE
BY ANNA MCCLURE SHOLL
LIVED
1689-1762
BY FERDINAND BOCHER
The Author to the Reader ('Essays')
Of Friendship (same)
Of Books (same)
Of Repentance (same)
To the Abbé X-
To the Countess of Mar
To the Countess of Bute
From a Letter to the Same
To the Countess of Bute
1533-1592
1689-1755
BY FRANCIS NEWTON THORPE
On the Power of Punishments (The Spirit of Laws')
In What Manner Republics Provide for Their Safety
(same)
PAGE
10217
Origin of the Right of Slavery among the Roman Civil-
ians (same)
On the Spirit of Trade (same)
On the True Nature of Benevolence (same)
On Religion (same)
On Two Causes which Destroyed Rome (Grandeur and
Decadence of the Roman Empire')
Usbek at Paris, to Ibben at Smyrna (Persian Letters')
Rica at Paris, to Ibben at Smyrna (same)
10237
10249


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vi
THOMAS MOORE
BY THOMAS WALSH
Paradise and the Peri (Lalla Rookh')
Love's Young Dream
The Time I've Lost in Wooing
Believe Me if All Those Endearing Young Charms
Come, Rest in This Bosom
Nora Creina
Oft, in the Stilly Night
Oh! Breathe Not His Name
'Tis the Last Rose of Summer
"Thou Art, O God"
The Bird Let Loose
The Harp that Once Through Tara's Halls
Sound the Loud Timbrel
SIR THOMAS MORE
JAMES JUSTINIAN MORIER
LIVED
1779-1852
A Letter to Lady More
Life in Utopia (Utopia')
Slavery and Punishments for Crime (same)
EDUARD MÖRIKE
My River
Two Lovers
An Hour Ere Break of Day
JOHN MORLEY
BY ANNA MCCLURE SHOLL
1478-1535
1780-1849
Hajji as a Quack ('The Adventures of Hajji Baba')
1804-1875
WILLIAM MORRIS
1838-
Rousseau at Montmorency (Rousseau')
Condorcet (Critical Miscellanies')
The Church and the 'Encyclopædia' ('Diderot and the
Encyclopædists')
1834-1896
BY WILLIAM MORTON PAYNE
Shameful Death
Hallblithe Dwelleth in the Wood Alone (The Story of
the Glittering Plain')
PAGE
10271
10295
10304
10318
10323
10337


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vii
WILLIAM MORRIS- Continued:
Iceland First Seen
From The Earthly Paradise': Introduction; L'Envoi
The Blue Closet
MOSCHUS
The Lamentation for Bion
The Day is Coming
Kiartan Bids Farewell to Gudrun (The Lovers of Gudrun ')
Third Century B. C.
10360
WILLIAM MOTHERWELL
1797-1835
When I Beneath the Cold Red Earth am Sleeping
Jeanie Morrison
My Heid is Like to Rend, Willie
May Morn Song
JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY
LIVED
ELISHA MULFORD
BY JOHN FRANKLIN JAMESON
The Abdication of Charles V. of Spain (Rise of the
Dutch Republic')
The Spanish Armada Approaches England (History of
the United Netherlands')
The Armada Destroyed (same)
The Fate of John of Barneveld (Life of Barneveld')
FREDERICK MAX MÜLLER
1814-1877
The Nation is a Continuity (The Nation')
The Nation the Realization of Freedom (same)
The People and the Land (same)
The Personality of Man (The Republic of God')
The Personality of God (same)
The Teleological Argument (same)
The Scriptures (same)
BY HENRY A. STIMSON
JOHN MUIR
1836–
A Wind-storm in the Forests (The Mountains of California')
1833-1885
PAGE
1823-
On the Migration of Fables ('Chips from a German Work-
shop')
10365
10373
10405
10415
10425


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viii
WILHELM MÜLLER
From The Pretty Maid of the Mill':
Wandering; Whither? Halt! Thanksgiving to the Brook;
Curiosity; Impatience; Good-Morning; Showers of
Tears; Mine! Withered Flowers; The Miller and the
Brook; Cradle Song of the Brook
Vineta
MARY NOAILLES MURFREE (Charles Egbert Craddock)
1850-
HENRI MURGER
The Dancin' Party at Harrison's Cove (In the Tennessee
Mountains')
ALFRED DE MUSSET
1822-1861
A Bohemian Evening Party (The Bohemians of the Latin
Quarter')
The White Violets (same)
LIVED
1794-1827
BY ALCÉE FORTIER
Vergiss Mein Nicht
From To a Comrade'
From On a Slab of Rose Marble'
From The Wild Mare in the Desert'
To Pépa
Juana
The Grisettes (Mimi Pinson')
The False Lover ('No Trifling with Love')
FREDERIC WILLIAM HENRY MYERS
1810-1857
1843-
The Disenchantment of France (Science and a Future
Life ')
MYTHS AND FOLK-LORE OF THE ARYAN PEOPLES
The Kinvad Bridge
The Bridge of Dread
The Legend of Bomere Pool
The Lake of the Demons
Fairy Gifts and their Ill-Luck
BY WILLIAM SHARP AND ERNEST RHYS
PAGE
10442
10453
10473
10487
10511
10522
A Sleeping Army
The Black Lamb
Death-Bed Superstitions
The Witched Churn
The Bad Wife and the Demon


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ix
LIVED
MYTHS AND FOLK-LORE OF THE ARYAN PEOPLES - - Continued:
Hangman's Rope
May-Day Song
Old English Charms and Folk Customs: Bread Charms;
Knife Charm
Yule-Log Ceremony
The Changeling
The Magic Sword
LADY NAIRNE (CAROLINA OLIPHANT)
The Land of the Leal
The Hundred Pipers
Caller Herrin'
FRIDTJOF NANSEN
BY THOMAS DAVIDSON
The Auld House
The Laird o' Cockpen
Wha'll be King but Charlie ?
Will Ye no Come Back Again?
Gude-Nicht, and Joy be wi' Ye A'
Would you be Young Again?
THE NEW TESTAMENT
An Evening's Aurora (Farthest North')
The Polar Night (same)
The New Year, 1896: Our Daily Life (same)
The Journey Southward (same)
1766-1845
BY FREDERICK W. FARRAR
The Sermon on the Mount (Matthew)
From the Gospel According to St. Mark
The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke)
The Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke)
On the Sabbath (Mark, Luke)
Discipleship (John)
Immortality (same)
From the General Epistle of Jude
The Vision (Revelation)
1861-
The Conversion of Paul (Acts of the Apostles)
The Nature of Love (First Epistle to the Corinthians)
PAGE
10543
10555
10565


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JOHN HENRY NEWMAN
The Transition ('Apologia pro Vitâ Suâ')
The Locusts ('Callista')
SIR ISAAC NEWTON
Callista and Agellius (same)
Mother and Son ('Loss and Gain')
The Separation of Friends (Lyra Apostolica ')
The Pillar of the Cloud
After Death (The Dream of Gerontius')
Angel
X
NIBELUNGENlied
BY RICHARD HOLT HUTTON
LIVED
1801-1890
Letter to Francis Astor in 1669
From Mathematical Principles' (Principia')
BARTHOLD GEORG NIEBUHR
NIZĀMĪ
1642-1727
From the
the Nibelungenlied (Fall of the Nibelungers):
Kriemhild; Siegfried; Hagan's Account of Siegfried;
How Siegfried First Saw Kriemhild; How the Two
Queens Reviled One Another; How Siegfried Parted
from Kriemhild; How Siegfried was Slain; How the
Margrave Rudeger Bewailed his Divided Duty; How
Kriemhild Slew Hagan and was Herself Slain
Twelfth Century
BY CHARLES HARVEY GENUNG
CHARLES NODIER
1776-1831
Plan for a Complete History of Rome (Introduction to
"History of Rome')
Early Education: Words and Things (Life and Letters')
The Importance of the Imagination (same)
From Nizami's 'Laila and Majnun'
1141-1203
BY A. V. WILLIAMS JACKSON
1780-1844
The Golden Dream: The Kardouon; Xailoun; The Fakir
Abhoc; Doctor Abhac; The King of the Sands; The
Sage Lockman; The Angel; The End of the Golden
Dream
PAGE
10597
10619
10627
10657
10665
10672


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xi
WILLIAM EDWARD NORRIS
1847-
Freddy Croft: And the Lynshire Ball (Matrimony')
Mrs. Winnington's Eavesdropping (No New Thing')
An Idyl in Kabylia (Mademoiselle de Mersac ')
CHARLES ELIOT NORTON
1827-
The Building of Orvieto Cathedral (Notes of Travel and
Study in Italy')
The Dome of Brunelleschi (Historical Studies of Church
Building in the Middle Ages')
NOVALIS (FRIEDRICH VON HARDENBERG)
Hymns to the Night
FITZ-JAMES O'BRIEN
LIVED
-
1772-1801
The Great Diamond is Obtained and Used (The Dia-
mond Lens')
The Lost Steamship
ADAM GOTTLOB OEHLENSCHLÄGER
1828-1862
1
BY WILLIAM MORTON PAYNE
The Dedication of 'Aladdin' to Goethe
Song ('Aladdin')
From Axel and Valborg'
The Foes (Hakon Jarl')
The Sacrifice (same)
Song (Correggio')
1779-1850
Noureddin Reads from an old Folio ('Aladdin')
Oehlenschläger's Only Hymn
THE OLD TESTAMENT AND THE JEWISH APOCRYPHA
BY CRAWFORD H. TOY
PAGE
10685
10707
The Old Testament
Narrative Prose: Abraham's Appeal for Sodom; Elijah
and the Prophets of Baal; Elijah's Flight; Micaiah's
Prophecy; Esther and Haman
The Prophets: Amos Denounces the Evil Time; A La-
mentation of Jeremiah; Ezekiel - Invocation of Evils
on Israel, Description of Tyre, Address to Pharaoh,
Description of Pharaoh's Fall; Isaiah-Prophesies
Jehovah's Vengeance on Edom, also Israel's Future
Glory
10724
10733
10745
10775


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xii
THE OLD TESTAMENT AND THE JEWISH APOCRYPHA-
Continued:
Poetry: From Psalms xxiii. , xxiv. , cxxi. , xviii. ; From
Lamentations ii. ; From Ezekiel xix. ; From Isaiah
xiv. ; From Lamentations i. ; From Job; From Can-
ticles; From Ecclesiastes
Apocalypse
-
Apocrypha: The Lament of the Wicked (Wisdom of Sol-
omon)
Odes in Praise of Wisdom: Job xxviii. , Ecclesiasticus
xxiv. , Wisdom of Solomon vii.
A


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LIST OF PORTRAITS
IN VOL. XVIII
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
Michel Eyquem de Montaigne
Montesquieu
Thomas Moore
Sir Thomas More
Eduard Mörike
John Morley
William Morris
William Motherwell
John Lothrop Motley
John Muir
Frederick Max Müller
Wilhelm Müller
Mary Noailles Murfree
Henri Murger
Alfred De Musset
Fridtjof Nansen
John Henry Newman
Sir Isaac Newton
Barthold Georg Niebuhr
Charles Nodier
William Edward Norris
Charles Eliot Norton
- Novalis (Friedrich von Hardenberg)
Adam Gottlob Oehlenschläger
Full page
Full page
Full page
Full page
Full page
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Full page
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Full page
Vignette
Full page
Full page
Full page
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette


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LADY MARY WORTLEY
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10217
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
(1689-1762)
BY ANNA MCCLURE SHOLL
HE glamour which to this day is about the enigmatic character
of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu seems born of the contra-
dictions of her nature. Her letters show her capable of
greatness of thought and feeling, and yet she produced little but
enigmas. She is brilliant but not convincing. The present genera-
tion, like her own, is of two minds about her. It cannot take her
with over-seriousness; yet it is forced to pay tribute to her precocity
of mind and character.
Had Lady Mary Montagu lived in an age friendly to the intellect-
ual sincerity of women, she might have put her powers of mind to
great advantage; but the world would probably have lost that unique.
personality which might be the eighteenth century masquerading as
a woman. Of the weakness and strength of that age of light without
sweetness, Lady Mary is representative. She possesses its cleverness,
its clear head, its brittle wit. She exhibits also its lack of strong
natural feeling, its indifference to the primal truths of existence, its
tendency to sacrifice the Ten Commandments to an epigram. She
was as much a product of her time as her acid friend and enemy,
Pope; as the rocking-horse metre of the contemporary poetry; as the
patched and powdered ladies of the court; as the Whig and Tory
parties; as the polite infidelities of the fashionable. Yet in her good
sense and intellectual fearlessness she belonged to a later day. The
woman who introduced inoculation into England would not have been
out of place in the latter half of this century.
She was born in 1689, at a time when English society and Eng-
lish literature had lost the last gleam of a great dead age, and
existed for the most part in the candle-light of drawing-rooms. Her
father, the Marquis of Dorchester, did little for her but introduce her
to the Kit-Kat Club, where she made her first bow to the world of
the new century, in which she was afterwards to become a central
figure. Having no mother, she grew up as she could. Her irregular
education in her father's library, where she read what she chose,
probably heightened that spontaneity of thought which gives to her
letters their peculiar charm. Her neglected childhood served doubt-
less to increase her originality and her independence. The latter


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10218
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
quality, at least, was exhibited in her precipitate marriage with
Edward Wortley. Tradition has it that her scholarly husband had
been drawn to her by her knowledge of classical Latin; but in all
probability Lady Mary herself was the greater magnet. Shortly after
his marriage, Edward Wortley was appointed ambassador to Tur-
key. His wife gave evidence of her adventurous spirit and of her
intellectual thirst by accompanying him thither. In her letters from
Turkey, Lady Mary exhibits her disposition to regard all life as a
pageant. The spectacular element in human existence, whether in
Constantinople or in London, made strong appeal to her. Like her
age, she was absorbed in the shows of things. Her intellectual com-
prehension of them was complete. Beyond the domain of the intel-
lect she never ventured. The letters from Turkey give evidence of
having been written for publication. They are studied in manner,
but this does not deprive them of the charm of individuality. Lady
Mary, on her return, took her place at once in London society as
a remarkable woman- with varying effects upon the world before
which she lived. Opinions of her touched extremes. No one within
the circle of her influence could trim between adoration and detes-
tation. If she was not a hag she was a goddess. It required the
versatility and peculiar sensitiveness of Pope himself to find her both.
Their famous friendship and their famous quarrel are food for the
reflection of posterity.
The savage attacks of the poet may have been one cause for the
departure of Lady Mary from London to the sylvan life abroad, of
which she writes in such fine detail to her daughter, Lady Bute.
Through her letters she held her power at home during many years
of her self-imposed exile. he remained abroad from 1739 to 1762,
the year of her death; although she writes to her daughter that the
very hay in which some china was packed is dear to her, because it
came from England.
She returned to her native land sick, homely, and old, but with
power still to turn her mean tenement into a court. The last picture
of her is of a decrepit woman in an abominable wig and greasy petti-
coat, and an old great-coat with tarnished brass buttons, receiving the
homage of English wit and English culture, drawn to her by an irre-
sistible fascination. She was Lady Mary Wortley Montagu under all
disguises. She retains her power to this day.
Alena Mune Sholl


## p. 10219 (#27) ###########################################

LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ.
10219
TUESDAY NIGHT.
I
RECEIVED both your Monday letters before I writ the inclosed,
which, however, I send you. The kind letter was writ and
sent Friday morning, and I did not receive yours till Satur-
day noon. To speak truth, you would never have had it else,
there were so many things in yours to put me out of humor.
Thus, you see, it was on no design to repair anything that of
fended you.
You only show me how industrious you are to find
faults in me: why will you not suffer me to be pleased with
you?
I would see you if I could (though perhaps it may be wrong);
but in the way that I am here, 'tis impossible. I can't come
to town but in company with my sister-in-law: I can carry her
nowhere but where she pleases; or if I could, I would trust her
with nothing. I could not walk out alone without giving suspi-
cion to the whole family; should I be watched, and seen to meet
a man-judge of the consequences!
You speak of treating with my father, as if you believed he
would come to terms afterwards. I will not suffer you to remain
in the thought, however advantageous it might be to me; I will
deceive you in nothing. I am fully persuaded he will never hear
of terms afterwards. You may say, 'tis talking oddly of him. I
can't answer to that; but 'tis my real opinion, and I think I know
him. You talk to me of estates, as if I was the most interested
woman in the world. Whatever faults I may have shown in my
life, I know not one action in it that ever proved me mercenary.
I think there cannot be a greater proof to the contrary than
my treating with you, where I am to depend entirely upon your
generosity, at the same time that I may have settled on me £500
per annum pin-money, and a considerable jointure, in another
place; not to reckon that I may have by his temper what com-
mand of his estate I please: and with you I have nothing to
pretend to. I do not, however, make a merit to you: money is
very little to me, because all beyond necessaries I do not value
that is to be purchased by it. If the man proposed to me had
£10,000 per annum, and I was sure to dispose of it all, I should
act just as I do. I have in my life known a good deal of show,
and never found myself the happier for it.


## p. 10220 (#28) ###########################################

10220
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
In proposing to you to follow the scheme proposed by that
friend, I think 'tis absolutely necessary for both our sakes. I
would have you want no pleasure which a single life would
afford you. You own you think nothing so agreeable. A woman
that adds nothing to a man's fortune ought not to take from his
happiness. If possible, I would add to it; but I will not take
from you any satisfaction you could enjoy without me.
On my
own side, I endeavor to form as right a judgment of the temper
of human nature, and of my own in particular, as I am capable
of. I would throw off all partiality and passion, and be calm in
my opinion. Almost all people are apt to run into a mistake,
that when they once feel or give a passion, there needs nothing
to entertain it. This mistake makes, in the number of women
that inspire even violent passions, hardly one preserve one after
possession. If we marry, our happiness must consist in loving
one another; 'tis principally my concern to think of the mcst
probable method of making that love eternal. You object against
living in London: I am not fond of it myself, and readily give
it up to you; though I am assured there needs more art to
keep a fondness alive in solitude, where it generally preys upon
itself.
There is one article absolutely necessary: to be ever beloved,
one must ever be agreeable. There is no such thing as being
agrecable without a thorough good-humor, a natural sweetness
of temper, enlivened by cheerfulness. Whatever natural funds
of gayety one is born with, 'tis necessary to be entertained with
agreeable objects. Anybody capable of tasting pleasure when
they confine themselves to one place, should take care 'tis the
place in the world the most agreeable. Whatever you may now
think (now, perhaps, you have some fondness for me), though
your love should continue in its full force there are hours when
the most beloved mistress would be troublesome. People are not
forever (nor is it in human nature that they should be) disposed
to be fond; you would be glad to find in me the friend and the
companion. To be agreeably the last, it is necessary to be gay
and entertaining. A perpetual solitude, in a place where you see
nothing to raise your spirits, at length wears them out, and con-
versation insensibly falls into dull and insipid. When I have no
more to say to you, you will like me no longer.
How dreadful is that view! You will reflect for my sake
you have abandoned the conversation of a friend that you liked,


## p. 10221 (#29) ###########################################

LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
10221
and your situation in a country where all things would have
contributed to make your life pass in (the true volupte) a smooth
tranquillity. I shall lose the vivacity which should entertain you,
and you will have nothing to recompense you for what you have
lost. Very few people that have settled entirely in the country,
but have grown at length weary of one another.
The lady's
conversation generally falls into a thousand impertinent effects.
of idleness; and the gentleman falls in love with his dogs and
his horses, and out of love with everything else. I am not now
arguing in favor of the town: you have answered me as to that
point.
In respect of your health, 'tis the first thing to be considered,
and I shall never ask you to do anything injurious to that. But
'tis my opinion, 'tis necessary, to be happy, that we neither of us
think any place more agreeable than that where we are.
I have
nothing to do in London; and 'tis indifferent to me if I never
see it more. I know not how to answer your mentioning gal-
lantry, nor in what sense to understand you: whoever I marry,
when I am married I renounce all things of the kind.
I am
willing to abandon all conversation but yours; I will part with
anything for you, but you. I will not have you a month, to lose
you for the rest of my life. If you can pursue the plan of hap-
piness begun with your friend, and take me for that friend, I
am ever yours. I have examined my own heart whether I can
leave everything for you; I think I can: if I change my mind,
you shall know before Sunday; after that I will not change my
mind.
If 'tis necessary for your affairs to stay in England, to assist
your father in his business, as I suppose the time will be short,
I would be as little injurious to your fortune as I can, and I will
do it. But I am still of opinion nothing is so likely to make us
both happy, as what I propose. I foresee I may break with you
on this point, and I shall certainly be displeased with myself for
it, and wish a thousand times that I had done whatever you
pleased; but, however, I hope I shall always remember how much
more miserable than anything else would make me, should I
be to live with you and to please you no longer. You can be
pleased with nothing when you are not pleased with your wife.
One of the Spectators is very just that says, "A man ought
always to be upon his guard against spleen and a too severe
philosophy; a woman, against levity and coquetry. " If we go to


## p. 10222 (#30) ###########################################

10222
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
Naples, I will make no acquaintance there of any kind, and you
will be in a place where a variety of agreeable objects will dis-
pose you to be ever pleased. If such a thing is possible, this
will secure our everlasting happiness; and I am ready to wait on
you without leaving a thought behind me.
TO E. W. MONTAGU, ESQ.
FRIDAY NIght.
I
TREMBLE for what we are doing. Are you sure you shall love
me for ever? Shall we never repent? I fear and I hope. I
foresee all that will happen on this occasion. I shall incense
my family in the highest degree. The generality of the world
will blame my conduct, and the relations and friends of
will invent a thousand stories of me; yet 'tis possible you may
recompense everything to me. In this letter, which I am fond of,
you promise me all that I wish. Since I writ so far, I received.
your Friday letter. I will be only yours, and I will do what you
please.
TO MR. POPE
ADRIANOPLE, April 1st, O. S. , 1717.
I
AM at this present moment writing in a house situated on the
banks of the Hebrus, which runs under my chamber window.
My garden is all full of cypress-trees, upon the branches of
which several couple of true turtles are saying soft things to one
another from morning till night. How naturally do boughs and
vows come into my mind at this minute! and must not you con-
fess, to my praise, that 'tis more than an ordinary discretion that
can resist the wicked 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 of the world; and for some
miles round Adrianople the whole ground is laid out in gardens,
and the banks of the rivers are set with rows of fruit trees, under
which all the most considerable Turks divert themselves every
evening: not with walking,- that is not one of their pleasures;
but a set party of them choose out a green spot, where the shade
is very thick, and there they spread a carpet, on which they sit
drinking their coffee, and are generally attended by some slave


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LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
10223
Every
with a fine voice, or that plays on some instrument.
twenty paces you may see one of these little companies listening
to the dashing of the river; and this taste is so universal, that
the very gardeners are not without it. I have often seen them
and their children sitting on the banks of the river, and playing
on a rural instrument, perfectly answering the description of the
ancient fistula,- being composed of unequal reeds, with a simple
but agreeable softness in the sound.
Mr. Addison might here make the experiment he speaks of in
his travels: there not being one instrument of music among the
Greek or Roman statues, that is not to be found in the hands
of the people of this country. The young lads generally divert
themselves with making garlands for their favorite lambs, which
I 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 these are the ancient amusements here, and
as natural to them as cudgel-playing and football to our British
swains; the softness and warmth of the climate forbidding all
rough exercises, which were never so much as heard of amongst
them, and naturally inspiring a laziness and aversion to labor,
which the great plenty indulges. These gardeners are the only
happy race of country people in Turkey. They furnish all the
city with fruits and herbs, and seem to live very easily. They
are most of them Greeks, and have little houses in the midst of
their gardens, where their wives and daughters take a liberty not
permitted in the town, I mean, to go unveiled. These wenches
are very neat 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 life amongst the peas-
ants of his country; who, before oppression had reduced them to
want, were, I suppose, all employed as the better sort of them
are now. I don't doubt, had he been born a Briton, but his
'Idylliums' had been filled with descriptions of threshing and
churning, both which are unknown here: the corn being all trod-
den out by oxen, and butter (I speak it with sorrow) unheard-of.
I read over your Homer here with an infinite pleasure, and
find several little passages explained that I did not before entirely
comprehend the beauty of; many of the customs and much of
the dress then in fashion, being yet retained. I don't wonder
to find more remains here of an age so distant, than is to be


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LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
10224
found in any other country: the Turks not taking that pains to
introduce their own manners as has been generally practiced by
other nations that imagine themselves more polite. It would be
too tedious to you to point out all the passages that relate to
present customs. But I can assure you that the princesses and
great ladies pass their time at their looms, embroidering veils and
robes, surrounded by their maids, which are always very numer-
ous, in the same manner as we find Andromache and Helen
described. The description of the belt of Menelaus exactly re-
sembles those that are now worn by the great men; fastened
before with broad golden clasps, and embroidered round with
rich work. The snowy veil that Helen throws over her face is
still fashionable; and I never see half a dozen of old bashaws
(as I do very often) with their reverend beards, sitting basking
in the sun, but I recollect good King Priam and his counselors.
Their manner of dancing is certainly the same that Diana is sung
to have danced on the banks of Eurotas. The great lady still
leads the dance, and is followed by a troop of young girls, who
imitate her steps, and if she sings, make up the chorus. The
tunes are extremely gay and lively, yet with something in them
wonderfully soft. The steps are varied according to the pleasure
of her that leads the dance; but always in exact time, and infi-
nitely more agreeable than any of our dances, at least in my
opinion. I sometimes make one in the train, but am not skillful
enough to lead; these are the Grecian dances, the Turkish being
very different.
I should have told you, in the first place, that the Eastern
manners give a great light into many Scripture passages that
appear odd to us; their phrases being commonly what we should
call Scripture language. The vulgar Turkish is very different
from what is spoken at court, or amongst the people of figure,
who always mix 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 expressions commonly 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; that is, a style
proper for poetry, and which is the exact Scripture style.
believe you will be pleased to see a genuine example of this;
and I am very glad I have it in my power to satisfy your curios-
ity, by sending you a faithful copy of the verses that Ibrahim


## p. 10225 (#33) ###########################################

LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
10225
Pasha, the reigning favorite, has made for the young princess, his
contracted wife,-whom he is not yet permitted to visit without
witnesses, though she is gone home to 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, of such an occasion, he would
not want the assistance of the best poets in the empire. Thus
the verses may be looked upon as a sample of their finest poetry;
and I don't doubt you'll be of my mind, that it is most wonder-
fully resembling the Song of Solomon, which was also addressed
to a royal bride.
You see I am pretty far gone in Oriental learning; and to
say truth, I study very hard. I wish my studies may give me an
occasion of entertaining your curiosity, which will be the utmost
advantage hoped for from them by
Yours, &c.
•
TO MRS. S. C. .
À
ADRIANOPLE, April 1st, O. S. , 1717.
PROPOS of distempers, I am going to tell you 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 set of old women who make it their business to per-
form the operation every autumn, in the month of September,
when the great heat is abated. People send to one another to
know if any of their family has a mind to have the small-pox;
they make parties for this purpose, and when they are met
(commonly fifteen or sixteen together), the old woman comes
with a nut-shell full 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 pain than a common scratch) and puts into the
vein as much matter as can lie upon the head of her needle,
and after that binds up the little wound with a hollow bit of
shell; and in this manner opens four or five veins. The Grecians
have commonly the superstition of opening one in the middle of
the forehead, one in each arm, and one in the breast, to mark
the sign of the cross; but this has a very ill effect, all these
wounds leaving little scars, and is not done by those that are not
superstitious, who choose to have them in the legs, or that part
XVIII-640


## p. 10226 (#34) ###########################################

10226
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
of the arm that is concealed. The children or young patients
play together all the rest of the day, and are in perfect health
to the eighth. 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 [spots] in their faces, which never
mark; and in eight days' time they are as well as before their
illness. Where they are wounded, there remain running sores
during the distemper, which I don't doubt is a great relief to it.
Every year thousands undergo this operation; and the French
ambassador says, pleasantly, that they take the small-pox here
by way of diversion, as they take the waters in other countries.
There is no example of any one that has died in it; and you
may believe I am well satisfied of the safety of this experiment,
since I intend to try it on my dear little son.
I am patriot enough to take pains to bring this useful inven-
tion into fashion in England; and I should not fail to write to
some of our doctors very particularly about it, if I knew any one
of them that I thought had virtue enough to destroy such a con-
siderable branch of their revenue for the good of mankind. But
that distemper is too beneficial to them, not to expose to all their
resentment the hardy wight that should undertake to put an end
to 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 your friend, &c. , &c.
TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR
ADRIANOPLE, April 18th, O. S. , 1717.
I
WROTE to you, dear sister, and to all my other English corre-
spondents by the last ship, and only Heaven can tell when I
shall have another opportunity of sending to you; but I can-
not forbear to write again, though perhaps my letter may lie
upon my hands these two months. To confess the truth, my
head is so full of my entertainment yesterday, that 'tis absolutely
necessary for my own repose to give it some vent. Without
farther preface, I will then begin my story.
I was invited to dine with the Grand Vizier's lady; and it
was with a great deal of pleasure I prepared myself for an
entertainment which was never before given to any Christian. I
thought I should very little satisfy her curiosity (which I did not


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LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
10227
doubt was a considerable motive to the invitation) by going in
a dress she was used to see; and therefore dressed myself in the
court habit of Vienna, which is much more magnificent than
ours. However, I chose to go incognito, to avoid any disputes
about ceremony, and went in a Turkish coach, only attended.
by my woman that held up my train, and the Greek lady who
was my interpretess. I was met at the court door by her black
eunuch, who helped me out of the coach with great respect, and
conducted me through several rooms, where her she-slaves, finely
dressed, 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 dozen of her friends with
great civility. She seemed a very good-looking woman, near fifty
years old. I was surprised to observe so little magnificence in
her house, the furniture being all very moderate; and except
the habits and number of her slaves, nothing about her appeared
expensive. She guessed at my thoughts, and told me she was
no longer of an age to spend either her time or money in super-
fluities; that her whole expense was in charity, and her whole
employment praying to God. There was no affectation in this
speech; both she and her husband are entirely given up to
devotion. He never looks upon any other woman; and what is
more extraordinary, touches no bribes, notwithstanding the exam-
ple of all his predecessors. He is so scrupulous on this point, he
would not accept Mr. Wortley's present till he had been assured
over and over that it was a settled perquisite of his place at the
entrance of every ambassador.
She entertained me with all kind of civility till dinner came
in; which was served, one dish at a time, to a vast number, all
finely dressed after their manner,—which I don't think so bad as
you have perhaps heard it represented. I am a very good judge
of their eating, having lived three weeks in the house of an
effendi at Belgrade, who gave us very magnificent dinners, dressed
by his own 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 after our 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
their cookery to ours. Their sauces are very high, all the roast
very much done. They use a great deal of very rich spice. The
soup is served for the last dish; and they have at least as great


## p. 10228 (#36) ###########################################

10228
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
who was
a variety of ragouts as we have. I was very sorry I could not
eat of as many as the good lady would have had me,
very earnest in serving me of everything. The treat concluded
with coffee and perfumes, which is a high mark of respect; ten
slaves, kneeling, censed my hair, clothes, and handkerchief. After
this ceremony, she commanded her slaves to play and dance,
which they did with their guitars in their hands; and she excused.
to me their want of skill, saying she took no care to accomplish
them 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: but the Greek lady with me
earnestly solicited me to visit the kiyàya's lady; saying he was
the second officer in the empire, and ought indeed to be looked
upon as the first, the Grand Vizier having only the name, while
he exercised the authority. I had found so little diversion in the
Vizier's harem, that I had no mind to go into another. But her
importunity prevailed with me, and I am extremely glad I was
so complaisant.
All things here were with quite another air than at the Grand
Vizier's; and the very house confessed the difference between an
old devotee and a young beauty. It was nicely clean and mag-
nificent. I was met at the door by two black eunuchs, who led
me through a long gallery between two ranks of beautiful young
girls, with their hair 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 stop to consider them
nearer. But that thought was lost upon my entrance into a large
room, or rather a pavilion, built round with gilded sashes, which
were most of them thrown up; and the trees planted near them
gave an agreeable shade, which hindered the sun from being
troublesome. The jessamines and honeysuckles that twisted round
their trunks shed a soft perfume, increased by a white marble
fountain playing sweet water in the lower part of the room,
which fell into three or four basins with a pleasing sound. The
roof was painted with all sorts of flowers, falling out of gilded
baskets, that seemed tumbling down. On a sofa, raised three
steps, and covered with fine Persian carpets, sat the kiyàya's
lady, leaning on cushions of white satin, embroidered; and at her
feet sat two young girls about twelve years old, lovely as angels,
dressed perfectly rich, and almost covered with jewels. But they


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LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
10229
were hardly seen near the fair Fatima (for that is her name),
so much her beauty effaced everything I have seen,— nay, all that
has been called lovely, either in England or Germany. I must
own that I never saw anything so gloriously beautiful, nor can I
recollect a face that would have been taken notice of near hers.
She stood up to receive me, saluting me after their fashion, put-
ting her hand to her heart with a sweetness full of majesty, that
no court breeding could ever give. She ordered cushions to
be given me, and took care to place me in the corner, which is
the place of honor. I confess, though the Greek lady 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 up in gazing. That surprising harmony of feat-
ures! that charming result of the whole! that exact proportion
of body! that lovely bloom of complexion unsullied by art! the
unutterable enchantment of her smile! But her eyes-large and
black, with all the soft languishment of the blue! every turn of
her face discovering some new grace.
After my first surprise was over, I endeavored, by nicely
examining her face, to find out some imperfection: without any
fruit of my search but my being clearly convinced of the error
of that vulgar notion that a face exactly proportioned and per-
fectly beautiful would not be agreeable; nature having done for
her with more success, what Apelles is said to have essayed by
a collection of the most exact features, to form a perfect face.
Add to all this a behavior so full of grace and sweetness, such
easy motions, with an air so majestic, yet free from stiffness or
affectation, that I am persuaded,-could she be suddenly trans-
ported upon the most polite throne in Europe, nobody would
think her other than born and bred to be a queen, though edu-
cated in a country we call barbarous. To say all in a word, our
most celebrated English beauties would vanish near her.
She was dressed in a caftán of gold brocade, flowered with
silver, very well fitted to her shape, and showing to admiration
the beauty of her bosom, only shaded by the thin gauze of her
shift. Her drawers were pale pink, her waistcoat green and
silver, her slippers white satin, finely embroidered; her lovely
arms adorned with bracelets of diamonds, and her broad girdle
set round with diamonds; upon her head a rich Turkish handker-
chief of pink and silver, her own fine black hair hanging a great
length in various tresses, and on one side of her head some


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10230
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
bodkins of jewels. I am afraid you will accuse me of extrava-
gance in this description. I think I have read somewhere that
women always speak in rapture when they speak of beauty, and
I cannot imagine why they should not be allowed to do so. I
rather think it a virtue to be able to admire without any mixture
of desire or envy.
The gravest writers have spoken with great
warmth of some celebrated pictures and statues. The workman-
ship of Heaven certainly excels all our weak imitations, and I
think has a much better claim to our praise. For my part, I
am not ashamed to own I took more pleasure in looking on the
beauteous Fatima, than the finest piece of sculpture could have
given me.
TO THE ABBÉ X-
CONSTANTINOPLE, May 19th, O. S. , 1718.
You
see, sir, these people are not so unpolished as we represent
them. 'Tis true their magnificence is of a very different
taste from ours, and perhaps of a better. I am almost of
opinion they have a right notion of life. They consume it in
music, gardens, wine, and delicate eating, while we are tormenting
our brains with some scheme of politics, or studying some science
which we can never attain, or if we do, cannot persuade other
people to set that value upon it we do ourselves. 'Tis certain
what we feel and see is properly (if anything is properly) our own:
but the good of fame, the folly of praise, are hardly purchased;
and when obtained, a poor recompense for loss of time and health.
We die or grow old before we can reap the fruit of our labors.
Considering what short-lived, weak animals men are, is there any
study so beneficial as the study of present pleasure? I dare not
pursue this theme; perhaps I have already said too much, but I
depend upon the true knowledge you have of my heart. I don't
expect from you the inspired railleries I should suffer from
another in answer to this letter. You know how to divide the
idea of pleasure from that of vice, and they are only mingled in
the heads of fools. But I allow you to laugh at me for the sen-
sual declaration, in saying that I had rather be a rich effendi with
all his ignorance, than Sir Isaac Newton with all his knowledge!
I am, sir, &c. , &c.


## p. 10231 (#39) ###########################################

LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
10231
TO THE COUNTESS OF MAR
CAVENDISH SQUARE,- 1725.
I
AM very glad, dear sister, to hear you mention our meeting
in London. We are much mistaken here as to our ideas
of Paris: to hear that gallantry has forsaken it, sounds as
extraordinary to me as a want of ice in Greenland. We have
nothing but ugly faces in this country, but more lovers than ever.
There are but three pretty men in England, and they are all in
love with me at this present writing. This will surprise you
extremely; but if you were to see the reigning girls at present,
I will assure you there is little difference between them and old
women. I have been embourbé in family affairs for this last
fortnight. Lady F. Pierrepont, having £400 per annum for her
maintenance, has awakened the consciences of half her relations
to take care of her education: and (excepting myself) they have
all been squabbling about her; and squabble to this day. My
sister Gower carries her off to-morrow morning to Staffordshire.
The lies, twattles, and contrivances about this affair are innumer-
able. I should pity the poor girl, if I saw she pitied herself.
The Duke of Kingston is in France, but is not to go to the cap-
ital: so much for that branch of your family. My blessed off-
spring has already made a great noise in the world.
That young
rake, my son, took to his heels t'other day, and transported his
person to Oxford; being in his own opinion thoroughly qualified
for the University. After a good deal of search, we found and
reduced him, much against his will, to the humble condition of a
schoolboy.