|
Turkey:
The threatening, exotic east |
|
|
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu on Turkey Turkish Embassy Letters (1763)
Lady Mary in Turkish dress Page contents:
Introduction Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (1689-1762) is the most famous 18th-century writer on Turkey. In fact, she is probably also the most famous female travel writer of her century, as noted by Katherine Turner: “Fewer than twenty British women published travel narratives during the eighteenth century, and Montagu was the pioneer of this small but highly significant cluster of women, whose works provide a fascinating, often oblique, commentary on the cultural and political trends of their time” (Turner 113). In 1717, she accompanied her husband, Edward Wortley Montagu, on a two-year visit to Turkey, where he was posted as ambassador extraordinary for the British government and a representative of the Levant Company. Before she went, Lady Mary built upon her already strong education (an autodidact, she taught herself classical languages and other subjects via her father’s library). Billie Melman describes her background:
Lady Mary was thus well placed to comment on what she saw in Turkey, in the context of what had already been published on the topic. Her reading becomes crucial, because one of the main points critics have raised about her reports of Turkey is how they tried to augment and correct the common images of Turks, especially of Turkish women, that earlier reports had propagated. Her reports took the form of letters home to England and France, to various recipients: her sister and her friends, including Alexander Pope. These letters, as their editor Robert Halsband says, "are not actual letters she sent to her friends and relations; they are, instead, a compilation of pseudo-letters . ... Although they are clearly an accurate record of her experiences and observations during her tow-year sojourn abroad, we may still wonder to what extent they are based on real letters" (Montagu xiv). Though her daughter attempted to prevent it, the manuscript was published as the Turkish Embassy Letters in 1763, one year after Lady Mary's death. Even then, some (including her own daughter and the later traveler to Turkey, Elizabeth Lady Craven), speculated that these letters were too masculine for Lady Mary to have written. A spurious fourth volume of letters was also published. Her work continues to stimulate discussion to this day, as readers puzzle over whether Lady Mary's letters were feminist efforts to correct images of Turks, or were another orientalizing, and thus a colonizing, attempt of textual domination. This page will explore some of the common and controversial themes in her letters, the images of Turks she attempts to build and destroy, and the conflicted composite that results.
Lady Mary at the baths The most critically analyzed segment of Lady Mary’s Letters is her report of her visit to a Turkish bath or hamam. Read a three-paragraph excerpt. The continuing critical attention to this letter is surprising, given that it is merely one out of fifty-two. However, I believe this critical obsession reveals a tendency of attention with which Lady Mary was familiar in her readers, of which she was conscious in her writing, and which is common to this day. In dealing with a predominantly male readership (and here I speak of her published Embassy Letters and not the private documents from which they derived, though those, too, were somewhat of a public performance), any descriptions of a private female world were automatically sexualized. Melman and others have spoken to this in their examinations of the fascination of the community of the harem throughout Western literature (Melman 59-162), and we see the same assumptions in British writings about women in convents in Catholic countries. How can these communities possibly exist without men, the writers seem to ask. And what happens to the female sexual energy that is not dissipated by regular male attention?
How does Lady Mary show her consciousness of this voyeurism? Does she work to disarm it, or does she hope to use it to pique interest in her account? One way to consider these questions is to ask whether or not she is able to disarm it, or she is able to avoid piquing interest. While the first seems to offer her some promise (she could, for example, continue the stereotypical image of the harem), the second seems inescapable for a woman writer of the time who wanted to write on this topic to a Western, Christian, male audience. No matter what she would have written, given the interpretative community into which she deposited her letters, she could not avoid the eroticized gaze of her readers. This is the main reason why she states outright: “there was not the least wanton smile or immodest Gesture amongst 'em.” She praises everything about the bath experience: the lack of visible class distinctions (encouraged by the lack of clothing); the creation of a women’s coffeehouse, a community space for women nonexistent in European societies; the beauty of the women’s hair and white skin. While she does introduce male artists and writers into her account (Milton, Jervas), we can see this not as siding with these male voyeurs on this woman’s world, but as a way of aestheticizing this experience, of de-emphasizing the women’s nudity as a moral issue to think of it as an artistic one. Bohls states that "by comparing the bathing women to works of European art, she attempts to de-eroticize and de-exoticize them, neutralizing Orientalist stereotypes" (Bohls 181). In addition, she needed cultural touchstones with which to bring the tableau into focus for her European readers, and she certainly did not have many female artists or cultural authorities to which she could turn for analogy or comparison. The test for Lady Mary comes when the women in the bath implore her to undress and join them. She states:
By remaining clothed and not “going native,” Lady Mary retains her outsider status, one required by the ethos she needs to maintain for the respect of her European readers. As Srinivas Aravamudan says, in continuing to maintain herself in full dress, she appears both dignified and ridiculous, imprisoned by her own culture. She has pulled off a beautiful improvisation, successfully negotiating the Scylla of offending her Turkish hosts and the Charybdis of scandalizing her English readers. By banking on Turkish cultural misapprehension, she narrowly escapes the sacrifice of her English virtue. However, doubly bound as her body is by her lingerie, she is also in a fictional double bind as she is masquerading in the same costume for two audiences simultaneously. (Aravamudan, 178) Aravamudan continues that by showing the women her undergarments and letting them believe them the work of an overprotective spouse, “she allows the Turkish women to interpret her cultural limitations, about which she may not want to complain directly” (180). Kahf holds that “here it is the Turkish women who see the English women as deprived of a liberty they consider basic” (Kahf 122). Thus, what begins for the English reader as a titillating view into the women’s bath—a way of maintaining British superiority—becomes a way for Montagu slyly to criticize how her own culture restricts freedom for women while simultaneously congratulating itself on being a land of liberty. Teresa Heffernan sensibly concludes about the critical debate of Lady Mary as colonist that "it would be reductive either to dismiss Lady Mary's text as irredeemably orientalist or to herald it as unquestionably feminist" (Heffernan 202).
The problems of travel writing Montagu was conscious of her readers throughout the construction of this series of letters, and her rhetorical sense guided much of what she wrote. As noted previously, she was particularly conscious of the position of the Embassy Letters in the intertext of earlier works on Turkey. She refers to them in her work, sometimes by name but often in general as simply "writers," both to establish her own credibility and to set her account apart from theirs. She is also impatient with the assumptions that a traveler who leaves the safety of the West will undoubtedly be met with the incredible, the magical, and the frightening. She mockingly dismisses one of the most well-known of these writers: "Sir Paul Rycaut is mistaken (as he commonly is)" in some of his assumptions about Islamic sects (Montagu 318). She may have his book in mind when she counters several common myths of marital relations in the Turkish royal household, the Seraglio:
As with most of her letters, she is especially concerned that the lives of Turkish women be perceived properly, since most of the previous travelers to the region have been men and thus were writing out of speculation, since they would not have been allowed in the women's quarters. In writing of their vanities and transgressions, she notes to her correspondent: " 'Tis just as tis with you'; and the Turkish Ladys don't commit one Sin the less for not being Christians. Now I am a little acquainted with their ways, I cannot forbear admiring either the exemplary discretion or extreme Stupidity of all the writers that have given accounts of 'em (327-28). Turkish women are similar to European women, in their interest in clothes and family, but also in their faults: this is a gesture that can humanize these women for her correspondent, as well as to give these women agency by showing how they are free to choose right and wrong. The situation of the perceiver determines what the person perceives, and thus what the person can and should write (for writing truth seems to be a moral imperative to her). In addition to gender, social class and occupation will direct what the traveler observes:
Her irritation at her correspondents' unrealistic expectations of travel writers in general and in her letters is evident in several places. In this one, she chides a noblewoman who has apparently been asking for the relation of marvels:
She distinguishes herself from novelists and romance-writers like Aubin who irresponsibly depict the barbaric conduct of Muslims and their exotic world. Later, she repents a bit of her tone and writes to her sister,
In another passage, also to her sister, she sums up the whole problem:
As an Enlightenment thinker, Montagu "aims her debunking arsenal at the narrow, parochial, scholastic mind that rejects not only deductive reasoning, but empirical evidence, because they do not fits its preconceptions" (Kahf 124). Whatever her shortcomings, she is committed to her vision: a gesture of confidence in her perceptions, which, though accessible to her because of her aristocratic standing, was still an admirable act of will in 18th-century Britain. One of that nation's clearest portrayals of the East came from a woman's pen.
Related links: Lady Mary and smallpox vaccination Selected Turkish Embassy letters
Excerpt from the letter about women's baths (April 1, 1717, Adrianople):
Compare this description to that of the baths by Elizabeth Lady Craven.
Source of image Lady Mary image: http://www.twickenham-museum.org.uk/detail.asp?ContentID=180 Source of image Ingres image: http://mulot.free.fr/art/03%20-%20Ingres%20-%20le%20bain%20turc-1-0.html Return to Turkey homepage.
|