Lady Mary Wortley Montague in The Turkish Embassy Letters is penning Letter 27 to a madame in which she describes her visit to the bagnio bath houses- only (nude) women are allowed in the domed-building. “Ladies of quality generally give [the portress] the value of a crown or ten shillings, and I did not forget that ceremony,” (Montagu 101). She immediately evokes classism when she makes note of the payment process for entering the building and notices that the richer woman leave a significant amount of money; this emphasizes Lady Mary’s European, outsider status.
Lady Mary is writing this letter under the notion that she has observed something novel, to the point that her friend will “no longer reproach [Lady Mary] that [she] tells [her friend] nothing extraordinary,” (Montague 100). Lady Mary ironically continues to write about this unique experience- one that has never before been written- before reaching an unfortunate shift. She shifts by the end of the passage as she surrenders her own narrative authority: she suddenly adopts a male, European perspective when she confesses that her painter friend would have benefit from seeing such a scene. “To tell you the truth, I had wickedness enough to wish secretly that Mr. Gervase could have been there invisible. I fancy it would have very much improved his art to see so many fine women naked, in different postures, some in conversation, some working, others drinking coffee or sherbet, and many negligently lying on their cushions, while their slaves…were employed in braiding their hair,” (Montagu 102). How can Lady Mary go from marveling something so extraordinary as the naked, female bodies in the bath house, to then expressing that a creepy painter from back home should be there to “improve his art”? This is the equivalent of someone today saying, ‘I wish the rapper Lil’ Wayne was here to have sex with all these women!’ However, in today’s culture, we take a stance against the objectification of women, and it is generally frowned upon for someone to say to Lil’ Wayne, ‘have sex with all these women;’ and yet, Lady Mary herself says that she wishes the painter was “invisibly” in the bath house to capture the scene. This presents the problem of aristocratic Europeans, rich, white men who subject the “exotic,” naked body into a spectacle to be marveled. This subjugation and subtle sexism ultimately extends into Lady Mary’s own vision, and she fails to see her own enacting sexism. As she plays further into the notion of female objectification into paintings by rich, white males, she evolves to more specific observations of the Turkish women from the perspective of male-dominant hegemony: “I perceived that the ladies with the finest skins and most delicate shapes had the greatest share of my admiration, though their faces were sometimes less beautiful than those of their companion,” (Montagu 102). She is describing what I call a ‘butterface,’ much like a college-dorm-bro who is laughing with his friends, ‘Her body was great, but her face…’ Lady Mary’s disturbing perception of ladies with glorious bodies but ugly faces finally climaxes at the conclusion of the passage with her perspective on English coffee-houses: “…’tis the woman’s coffee-house, where all the news of the Town is told, scandal invented, etc.,” (Montagu 102). She says the bagnio is the Turkish equivalent of an English coffee-house, and yet, women are not allowed in the coffee-houses except to work and serve the male customers.
This irony of Lady Mary herself subjugating the other, nude, Turkish woman into mere objects-for-some-European-to-paint cannot be imitated. The bath-house painting by Ingres one hundred and fifty years or so later serves to create a surface representation of the bagnio scene but does not adequately represent the issues of sexism nor aristocratic elitism illustrated in the words of Lady Mary.