The Continuation of the Story of My Military Service, and the Prussian Campaigns

(Continued.)

Parts 1–3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Letter 49. The March to Wehlau
Letter 50. At Allenburg
Letter 51. The March Back
Letter 52. At Tilsit
Letter 53.
Letter 54. The Occupation of Königsberg
Letter 55. Our Second March into Prussia
Letter 56. The Halt at Thorn
Letter 57. The March to Königsberg
Letter 58. The Entry into Königsberg
Letter 59. In Königsberg
Letter 60. A Description of Königsberg

THE MARCH TO WEHLAU

Letter 49

My dear friend! Having portrayed to you in my preceding letters the whole first half of our first Prussian campaign, and having told you how we marched against our enemy, how we sought him out, how we fought him and defeated him, I shall now proceed to relate what happened among us after our Apraksin battle, what was afterwards done with that enemy and what he did with us, and how, in the end, the campaign of that year concluded.

The matter of this, I think, will be no less curious to you than the preceding; but whether it will be as pleasant as that, I can by no means vouch in advance, for since the events were not of the same kind but quite different, I too shall be obliged to paint pictures of another sort. Do not hold it against me, therefore, if to the eye they are at times not overly cheerful and pleasant, but rather vexing. It was not I, but the times and circumstances of that day that were the cause of their being so and not otherwise; for I shall be obliged to describe what was. To which I now proceed.

In my last letter I stopped at the point where, having defeated our enemy, we made camp on the very spot where the battle had taken place, and spent several days in celebrating this victory and in sorting out and burying the slain. Though this rest was not disagreeable to us, it cannot be said to have been pleasant either, and we all marvelled more and more that our generals and commanders did not try to strike while the iron was still hot, did not hasten to follow the fleeing enemy, did not try to crush his small remaining army to the end as quickly as possible and to make themselves masters of the whole Kingdom of Prussia. And since not a single man in our entire army doubted that the Prussians would not even think of opposing us any longer, but would flee from us like sheep, we were already delighting ourselves with the anticipation that soon, very soon, we would see their famous capital city of Königsberg and enter places abounding in plenty of everything; and since everyone impatiently wished this to come about as soon as possible, then when the third day after the battle had barely dawned and that morning we again heard reveille beaten and not the general march, everyone began to say, and quite loudly too: "Why are we standing here and dawdling so long?"

At last the 22nd of August arrived, and, to our general satisfaction, we heard that the general march was being beaten, and not reveille.

My God, how glad we all were then! No one, I think, ever set out on a march with such eagerness and zeal as we did that morning; for the whole army had long been grumbling that we were kept so long in one place, giving the enemy time in the meantime to come to his senses and gather his forces; and all had long wished, with the greatest resolve, to go after the enemy, so that not only were we not in the least vexed at being roused so very early and obliged to set out on the march at the very break of dawn, but we would gladly have agreed to set out even at midnight.

Since we set out so early, no one doubted that we would make a great march that day and cover at least some twenty versts. In this opinion, however, we were much deceived. Our army, having made its way through the forest by that narrow passage at Almenhausen which I mentioned before and beyond which the Prussian camp had previously stood, and having passed another village there, Buschdorf, went no more than five versts and made camp again. This surprised us all exceedingly, and many, vexed at it, said even then: "Well! What a stretch we've covered today, brothers! A fine distance, to be sure!" "Yes!" others chimed in, "at this rate we won't reach Königsberg in a whole month!"

While passing through the above-mentioned forest, which extended some two versts in breadth, I looked with particular curiosity at the narrow passage which, some three days before, had halted our commanders and prompted them to change their plan, and I found that this defile was indeed very important and difficult to pass, and that the Prussians, with a few men and guns, could have done us a great deal of harm here and prevented us from passing through it. Even without the enemy we had no small trouble getting through this narrow passage in the forest.

While we were spending the night at the said place, against all hope and expectation an alarm arose throughout our whole army, and, what was most surprising of all, to our utter shame a completely groundless one. This increased our vexation with our commanders still further. "A calamity, not commanders, are you, my lords," we said, looking at them, "being victors, yet you fear every fly, and you alarm and trouble the whole army yourselves without knowing why."

When it grew light, we dragged ourselves off on the march again, little by little. And since we did not expect our march that day to be any more successful, we said to one another, laughing: "Let us see what God will grant us today and how far we shall get." In our opinion we were certainly not mistaken.

For a whole half of the day we dragged ourselves four versts, passing through all the narrow places between woods and thickets. This march, small as it was, wearied us beyond measure. The day happened to be extremely hot, and the closeness such that we did not know where to put ourselves.

What vexed us most of all was that at almost every step we were obliged to stop and wait for several minutes at a time. We would barely have gone ten or twenty sazhens when the cry "Halt!" would ring out, and we would be obliged to stand and bake in the heat of the sun, and then we would move on again some five paces and again "Halt!", and so on. It is impossible to describe how unbearable such a slow march is in hot weather, especially at a time when one cannot leave the ranks for even a single step. It truly feels as though someone were pulling the very soul out of you; and had we not had the relief that each of us carried a bottle of water mixed with vinegar, we would not have known what to do for thirst. At no time during the whole course of the campaign was this water so needful and precious to us as on that day. It seemed to us better and finer than all the champagne and Hungarian wines in the world, and we thanked ourselves a thousand times for having had the sense to lay in a supply of it and to fill the front compartments of our company cartridge boxes with bottles. By particular good fortune, we never lacked vinegar during the whole campaign. We bought it at a rouble a shtof; but it was so necessary to us that we would have agreed to pay two or even three roubles for it, had need required.

Advancing at such a slow pace and tormented every minute by vexation, we could not understand what the reason might be for our dragging along so slowly. But no sooner had we passed the said copses and, emerging into open country, reached the high bank of a certain river, than we learned the reason; for here, to our very great astonishment, we saw far before us across the river the whole enemy camp, laid out on a hill.

This sight struck us all exceedingly; for we had least of all imagined that the enemy was so close to us, but had supposed him to have gone far away. From this it was not hard to conclude that we not only could not hasten our march, but that we would perforce be obliged to halt on the said hill and make camp. For, in the first place, it was impossible to cross the river without bridges, and in the second, seeing that the enemy was not overly afraid of us, we did not doubt that he would not fail to hinder us in crossing it.

What we had foreseen came to pass. We had barely reached the said river when we were ordered to halt and make camp along the very bank and to take every necessary precaution against the enemy; and besides this our commanders took care to secure our camp against enemy attack by placing guns and pickets at the necessary points.

Now, before going further, allow me, my dear friend, to pause for a minute and describe to you in more detail the whole lie of the place where we had halted, for it was rather memorable for us.

So, imagine to yourself a river, not very large, yet not the smallest either, extending some ten or fifteen sazhens in breadth, flowing very low down and, moreover, not very straight, but forming towards us a considerable bend and curve. One bank of this river, which was called the Alle, was very steep and formed an exceedingly high hill, while the other was very low and, extending away from the river, rose little by little, so that it formed the gentlest of slopes, whose top was level with the aforementioned hill, though no nearer than some three versts from it. Our army, on arriving, took up position right by that river, on its steep and elevated bank, that is, on the above-mentioned hill, between the villages of Gross Uhr and Klein Uhr, while on the other bank, below, right by the river, lay a small village, Bergersdorf, beyond which the rise, climbing steadily higher, merged with the horizon some three versts from us, where, that is, on the very crest of it, could be seen the front face of the Prussian camp standing there. A sight which we then had occasion to see for the first time; for until then we had never yet had an enemy camp in view. Downstream, some three or four versts from this place, on the right, lay a Prussian town called Wehlau, which, however, because of a forest on that side of the river, could not be seen from where we were.

Such was the natural lie of the place there, which was all the more memorable to me because it almost entirely resembled the place where my dwelling stands in my homeland.

The army arrived at this place still rather early and made camp as best it could on ground that was uneven and furrowed with gullies and ravines. Our regiment, being still at that time in the vanguard corps, happened to stand in front of all the others and on the very bank of the river Alle, opposite the above-mentioned village of Bergersdorf, and since this place was the highest of all, a considerable part of our artillery was posted right in front of our regiment.

There could be no more convenient place for the artillery than the one on which it then stood. It could sweep the whole wide, open field beyond the river and command it so that not a single man could show himself on it. This we had occasion to see in actual practice; for no sooner had we arrived and taken up position than we already saw on the other side enemy hussar patrols riding out in small groups from behind the camp and approaching the village in order to spy on our army. It is not hard to conclude that, having a battery in so advantageous a position, we could not allow them to ride about the field at will. We at once greeted them with twelve-pounders, and our courtesy was not much to their liking.

Before my very eyes the cannonballs flew right through their groups and forced them to scatter.

In a word, we did not let them get anywhere near the village; which is no wonder at all, for from such a hill as we were then standing on, and firing at leisure, with as much time to take aim as one wished, our artillerymen would have been ashamed not to hit. That day was for them a veritable firing exercise; and we, gathering together, watched their daring and could not take delight enough in their skill.

But since, despite all our efforts and firing, their parties kept riding right up to the village, and, with night approaching, it was feared that they might entrench themselves in it and cause us some hindrance in crossing the river, the order was at last given, to prevent this, to set the village on fire. This gave me occasion to see how artillerymen set buildings alight with incendiary balls, or so-called knippels. In an instant they had it burning, and they had barely thrown a few incendiary shot of a special kind before it was all in flames, and it burned until midnight. The Prussians afterwards accused us of burning this village; but if one judges fairly, they themselves gave cause for it, and its poor inhabitants ought to have complained not of us but of their own hussars, who tried to entrench themselves in it to no further purpose. But be that as it may, this fire prevented the Prussians from entrenching and fortifying themselves in the village, and they contented themselves with placing their pickets in the forest lying by the river between this village and the town of Wehlau, to observe our movements.

All this proved to us that crossing this river would not be as easy for us as we had thought, but that the enemy intended to put obstacles in our way. Yet since it was absolutely necessary to cross, various detachments were sent to build bridges across the river, and they began that very hour to set about it and to prepare all the materials needed for it. And since these bridges could not be built so quickly, this very thing obliged the army to remain at this place the whole of the following day as well, that is, the 24th of August.

During this day's halt nothing important or worthy of note happened among us, except that one could see the enemy, both around his camp and on our side of the river, to the right of our army in front of the little town of Wehlau, building batteries to prevent the continuation of our march and to defend the town, which he thought we would try to attack and take; and to prevent us from crossing the river as well, wherever we began building bridges, he too began building redoubts and batteries.

Such movements of his, proving his intention to oppose us, were unpleasant not only to our chief commanders but to the whole army.

It was not hard to conclude that the blame for all this lay with our chief commanders, who had let the enemy go after the battle without any pursuit and had thereby given him time to come to his senses and gather his forces. We saw this quite clearly at the time, and almost everyone grumbled at them openly for it. They themselves already perceived their mistake; but since it could no longer be changed, they tried at least to take some precautions on their part; and since, reverting to their former timidity, they began to fear that the enemy might come and strangle us like chickens in our very camp, to prevent this they thought fit, in order to cover the army on the side facing the town, to post at some distance from our right wing a strong picket with Shuvalov howitzers and guns.

Since I myself happened to be detailed to this picket, I can tell in more detail all that happened to us on this occasion. We were led out to the very edge of our camp and beyond the village, and posted directly opposite the battery the enemy had built on a mound in front of the town, so that both it and the whole town of Wehlau were visible to us. The day happened to be fine, and we could not gaze enough, watching the Prussians come out of the little town and relieve the guard at their battery. Their bright muskets glittered in the sun, and we admired this spectacle until evening.

At nightfall we were ordered to exercise the utmost caution and to see that the Prussians did not attack us during the night. True, there was no great reason to fear this; yet, since close in front of our picket there was a little wood in a hollow, we feared that the enemy, taking advantage of the darkness of night, might steal into it and make a surprise attack on us, as had already happened once in this camp with our foragers, who had been unexpectedly harassed by the enemy. For this reason the colonel who was in command of us ordered two ranks to stand under arms all night and two to rest. Thus a thousand of our men stood while another thousand slept. The guns were all loaded with ball and case shot, and the gunners stood ready with lighted matches. In this way we were obliged to spend the night with little rest. For all the officers only three soldiers' tents had been pitched, in which we threw ourselves down on the ground just as we were, in our sashes and gorgets. But we did not grieve over that; we would have been glad if only the night had passed peacefully and without alarm, for we hoped that the following morning other troops would relieve us. However, things did not turn out as we thought. For no sooner had night come on, which happened to be very dark, and we fallen asleep in our tents, than suddenly someone came running to tell us that in the little wood some hundred sazhens in front of our line a kind of noise and rustling could be heard, and that it was feared the enemy had stolen into it.

Hearing this, we leapt up from sleep and rushed headlong to our places.

We found the whole line already in readiness, and both sleeping ranks awakened and already standing in formation. The darkness was extreme, and however much we looked towards the wood, nothing could be seen. But since the rustling and quiet noise in the wood continued, this prompted our commander to detach several soldiers and send them to look closer to the wood, with orders to give us a signal at once as soon as they noticed anything. I cannot describe enough with what impatience we awaited the return of these men, or some sign from them, and what emotions we felt, preparing every minute to receive the enemy with a good volley. Our muskets were all ready, and it only remained to cock them and fire, and likewise at the guns all the gunners were ready with their matches. But what followed? Ten minutes had already passed; more than a quarter of an hour had passed; something ought to have happened by now, but from our men there was neither sight nor sound nor word. "What a strange thing!" we said, gathering together, "could it be some empty noise that alarmed us?" But our astonishment grew still greater when, instead of the agreed signal, a whistle, we heard laughter and guffawing in the distance. "Lord! What can that be?" we said. "Surely not the enemy, but something funny! But what could it be?..." Our doubt was soon resolved. We saw the men we had sent coming back and telling us, laughing, that the enemy who had frightened us was far from being as terrible as we had thought, and that all the noise we had heard was made by none other than Madam Cows, who had somehow wandered into this wood and were roaming about it with bells tied round their necks. "Pah, confound it!" we said then, vexed and laughing, "the devil take them; and we thought it was God knows who!.." Having vented our vexation in this way at having let such a phantom alarm and frighten us, we went back to our tents and stretched out on the grass to spend the rest of the night asleep again.

But this night was evidently destined for us to spend in ceaseless disquiet; for no sooner had we settled down and, towards dawn, sunk into the sweetest sleep, than suddenly a piercing shout and wailing struck our ears and woke us all from sweet sleep. "Get up, get up!" we cried, "this is no longer cows, my lords, but something more serious." And no sooner had we uttered these words than musket fire, heard very close to us, alarmed us all still more. Then there was no time to chatter any longer; and we, concluding nothing else but that the enemy had attacked our outlying guards, which we had posted in front for greater safety, leapt up from sleep and, rushing headlong to our places, only shouted:

"To arms! To arms! Fall in quickly, check your locks, flints and muskets, and make ready to fire!"

But this time too, however much we, fully prepared, peered ahead into the darkness, we could notice nothing, and our fear and alarm again ended in nothing; and after a few minutes we learned that this shouting and firing had occurred not on our side and not among our forward posts, but to the left, across the river, and in the morning we found out that the alarm had been caused by our Kalmyks, several of whom, having swum across the river, had attacked an enemy picket stationed beyond it and, having routed it, brought back several prisoners with them.

In the morning, on the 25th of August that followed, having been relieved, we returned to our regiment and could there sleep as much as we liked, because the army stood that day too in the same camp and undertook nothing. Meanwhile the enemy went on fortifying himself more and more with redoubts and batteries, and putting so many difficulties in the way of our bridge-building that our commanders were obliged to abandon their intention of crossing the river at this place and, destroying what had been begun, to think of other means. We did not know what would finally become of us here, or where we would cross this river, and we did not doubt that something would soon have to happen again and that we would not get by without a clash with the enemy. All his movements and undertakings proved to us that he by no means intended to let us cross the river in peace, but was thinking of a good resistance. We expected this especially in case our commanders took it into their heads to go straight through the little town of Wehlau and cross the river beyond it by the bridge already standing there. The batteries we had seen him build before the entrance to this town threatened us with a bloody reception, and, it must be confessed, this was not very pleasant to us; all the more so since we had by no means expected such resistance, and therefore we grumbled more and more at our commanders and reproached them for having let the enemy go without pursuit and for not having been able, taking advantage of his disorder and timidity at the time, to seize this important place back then.

In this uncertainty as to what would happen we spent the whole of that day. But in the evening our doubt was resolved, and an unexpected order, issued throughout the army, threw us into new astonishment, namely: we were all ordered to prepare for the march in the morning, and it was announced that the whole army would set out quietly on the march at first light.

At this point allow me, my dear friend, to break off my letter. I wish to leave you impatient to learn what followed next. This you will hear in my next letter, and meanwhile I remain your faithful and obedient servant.

AT ALLENBURG

Letter 50

My dear friend! I ended my last letter with an order having been issued to the whole army in the evening that the next morning the whole army would set out on the march and would do so quietly and secretly. Since such an order had never before been given us, it surprised us exceedingly. We thought, however, that our commanders surely meant to employ some stratagem or ruse of war, and wished to set out secretly in order either to seize the town of Wehlau by surprise or to cross the river somewhere else, at some place still unknown to us.

In this uncertainty, and burning with impatient desire to know whether we would go to the right or to the left, and whether we would not have an action with the enemy in the morning, we spent the whole night; and on the following day, that is, the 26th of August, as soon as it began to grow light, reveille was beaten instead of the general march, as a sign that the army would supposedly remain that day too, immovably, in the same place. And to conceal the ruse better, our vanguard corps was ordered now to form the rearguard and not to strike its tents until the whole main army, with its baggage trains, had set out on the march and had already moved some distance away, and the hussars and Cossacks were to remain in their places until the army had entered its new camp. But a laughable ruse it was! We hoped to deceive the enemy, not knowing that he had deceived us first, and that his camp, which we saw, had from the very beginning been a sham and empty one, containing only a small number of troops; while of the Prussian army it was said that its main part had long since gone on towards Königsberg, and the other had set off for the place where our army had taken it into its head to build bridges anew, so as to frustrate our intention there too; for all our undertakings and designs were known to our enemies, and he had people in our army who informed him of everything most faithfully. At least, so it was said at the time, and Mr Lieven was suspected of this most of all. But be that as it may, we set out on the march without any noise and went to the left, upstream along the river Alle, towards the little town of Allenburg, and, having gone a few versts with very great difficulty, made camp on the banks of that river.

In the morning (of the 27th) we thought we would be crossing the river, but instead we stood the whole day without doing anything. This slowness astonished us all.

But we were even more astonished when it was announced that on the following day too, that is, the 28th, the army would remain in the same place. "Lord have mercy!" we said among ourselves, "what a strange thing, and how long are we to go without crossing the river?" But our astonishment grew still more when no preparations whatever for a crossing could be seen, although no enemies preparing to hinder us in it were to be noticed either; instead, we observed that our soldiers had been given leave to plunder a beautiful nobleman's castle across the river, and also to drain a very large pond, which happened to lie in the very middle of our camp and was stocked with fish, namely carp. On this occasion I learned for the first time what a fine fish the carp was and what ponds there are with it. There was such a multitude of this fish in it that in the army it was then sold for almost nothing, and one may say outright that not only we but the soldiers too ate their fill of it, so much of it was there! Truly, when the whole pond had been drained, huge carp wallowed like piglets in the little water and mud that remained, and it was amusing to watch how our servants and soldiers, wading through the mud, pulled them out and made merry with such easy fishing.

While the whole army was thus occupied with fishing and cooking its carp, our lords the generals and commanders were thinking of something quite different. Their occupation was an intricate one and one nobody expected. They were thinking how to bring to nothing all the labours our troops had borne up to that time, to lose for nothing all the losses endured and the blood shed by so many sons of the fatherland; to unweave again the wreath of glory and victory that had been won, to cover themselves with shame and dishonour and to bring upon the whole army a stain and a bad name, lasting for ever and galling to all true patriots. In a word, if one is to believe the rumour that spread afterwards, they were weaving what soldiers in their simplicity call treason. But whether that is true or not, I truly do not know; I know only that the 28th day of August {Having won the victory at Gross-Jägersdorf with great difficulty, the army reached Allenburg. On 28 August 1757 a council of war was held at which, in view of the heavy losses among the troops and the difficulties in supplying the army, it was decided to retreat within the borders of Russia. See note 12 after the text.} was the last day of our glory, splendour, manly spirit and flattering hope of soon seeing the walls of the famous city of Königsberg with our banners fluttering on them, and the whole Kingdom of Prussia subdued by our arms and in our power; and the 29th of August was that memorable and exceedingly vexing day on which all our hearts sank, and we, bereft of all courage, were covered with shame and dishonour and obliged to root out of ourselves all our former, so flattering hopes. In short, on that never-to-be-forgotten day we turned our backs to the enemy and trudged back to our fatherland, covered with such shame that we did not dare look at one another, but only asked one another with inexpressible astonishment: "What is this, brothers? What is being done to us, what is happening? A fine lot we are!" And so on.

Even now I cannot recall without vexation what agitation suddenly arose then throughout the army; truly there was hardly a man on whose face vexation mixed with shame and anger was not written.

Everywhere one heard only grumbling and secret abuse of our chief commanders. Many shouted almost openly: "Treason! And plain treason!"

And others, vexed and laughing, said: "What is this, my lords! Did we come to Prussia, take so many pains and shed our blood only to catch some carp here and eat them? What is being done to us? Where have our generals' wits gone?" And so on.

In a word, the grumbling was universal, and however dear our fatherland was to us all, hardly anyone set out on the return journey to it willingly at that time, so keenly did we feel this unexpected turn.

If you wish to know now what exactly compelled our commanders to this loss of all our advantages for nothing and to so shameful a return, I truly cannot tell you anything authentic about it. Being at that time so small a man, I could learn nothing for certain, and at the time everyone blamed only our field marshal, Count Apraksin {Bolotov quite rightly calls S. F. Apraksin a count, since his father, Fyodor Matveyevich, the famous associate of Peter I, was raised to the dignity of count in 1709. In the text of the "Notes" published by "Russkaya Starina" in 1870, a question mark has evidently been placed by mistake next to the word "count" by M. I. Semevsky, who prepared the "Notes" for publication.}, who, as is well known, afterwards died of it, in misfortune and of grief {See note 12 after the text.}. True, some said that he had some secret orders and acted according to them; but no one knew this for certain; suffice it that he went back with the army and let slip from his hands all the advantages and fruits gained by our victory, and did a very "glorious" deed, that is, by his conduct astonished not only our whole army but the enemy himself and even all of Europe. In a word, he brought it about that history has preserved for ever the memory that the return march of our army astonished all Europe at the time, and that no one in the whole world could understand what had induced Count Apraksin to let slip from his hands all the advantages gained and, already holding the greater part of the Kingdom of Prussia and being already so close to the capital city of Königsberg, suddenly to turn back and leave Prussia altogether, which at first no one, not even our enemies themselves, would believe until it was confirmed by the deed itself. Certain foreign writers who have described the life of the King of Prussia mention that it later turned out that the true reason for this return march was that our Empress Elizaveta Petrovna happened to fall very ill in the course of that summer, and that Count Bestuzhev, who was then our chancellor, fearing her death and contemplating in his mind certain important changes at court, especially concerning the succession itself, wrote on his own account and without the Empress's knowledge to Count Apraksin, who was his friend, that he should return with his army to the fatherland {Bolotov repeats here the accusations brought against Apraksin and is indignant with him, as an officer elated by victory.}.

But be that as it may, this much is certain: our field marshal, having resolved to go back, called a council of war for appearance's sake and told all the generals so much about an alleged great shortage of provisions and fodder in the army and about the impossibility of carrying the march further (on the grounds that the Prussian army, which had withdrawn towards Königsberg, had itself laid waste all the places along the road, so that fodder could by no means be obtained anywhere within some twenty versts) that he persuaded almost all of them, against their wishes, to agree to his proposal and sign a resolution to undertake a return march for the time being to the places where magazines were being stocked. Only the previously mentioned General-in-Chief Sibilsky would by no means agree to this proposal and, asserting that there were enough provisions and fodder in the army and that it suffered no shortage of them, would by no means sign the resolution; but he was listened to as little this time as after the battle, when, advising a pursuit, he asked for only three infantry regiments and wished with them to deal the beaten enemy a most telling blow, but was refused.

But since, despite all this, one could easily expect that a great murmur would arise throughout the army, in consequence of all the above it was given out throughout the army that we had been compelled to this return, expected by no one, by sheer necessity: first, because further progress was supposedly barred by an enemy army standing beyond the river, guarding the passage at Wehlau and having fortified it with batteries; and second, and supposedly most important of all, because a great shortage of provisions had appeared in the army and there was supposedly no hope of finding or obtaining any anywhere.

There were many who, believing this announcement, were content with it, but the more sensible were of quite another mind.

They already knew that this was all a mere cover and an empty deceit, and that there was no Prussian army there at all, while there were still enough provisions in the army, and, besides, a great quantity of them in the town of Wehlau, which it would have cost no trouble to take from the enemy, because this little town was not fortified at all and was defended by only a small number of troops. And if only we had taken it, we would have driven the Prussians out of the whole Kingdom of Prussia; and since autumn was then already beginning, we could have obtained everywhere as much provisions and fodder as we wished, especially off to the sides and in those places where there had been neither the army nor foraging yet.

Thus, my dear friend, I have told you the whole course of our march forward; and now it remains for me to tell you of our journey back. Oh, what a march that was! Truly my heart bleeds when I remember it and all its circumstances. In a word, I would gladly pass over it in silence, if the historical order did not require of me the same kind of description of it as of the preceding one.

But I shall put off the account of it until my next letter; and I shall end the present one by telling you that this unhappy and, for us, shameful moment in time was particularly fortunate for the King of Prussia; for almost from that very day all his troubled circumstances began to come to an end and particular good fortune began to attend him everywhere, just as though our field marshal Mr Apraksin had paved the way and the road for it by his misdeed. In proof of this I will say that on the very next day after this event, namely on the 30th of August, another circumstance very advantageous to him took place in Europe, which also arose from an unpardonable error of the commander-in-chief of the French army, namely:

I hope, my dear friend, that you still remember that we left the victorious French army in pursuit of the defeated Hanoverian army, which was allied to the King of Prussia and was under the command of the Duke of Cumberland. The French drove this army right up to the seaside town of Stade and pressed it so hard that the Duke of Cumberland, deprived of all means of further flight and of supplying his army with provisions and fodder, had no choice left but either to venture another battle with the French or to lay down his arms and surrender with his whole force. But since he had once already been beaten by the French at Hastenbeck and had suffered great losses, he had no wish whatever to fight them again, and so only the last course remained. Everyone believed that this would indeed come about, and that on this occasion the French would do with the allied Hanoverian army the same as the King of Prussia had done with the Saxon one, that is, take it all prisoner. But, to the astonishment of the whole world, the same kind of unexpected thing happened here as with our return march, namely: instead of doing this glorious and resounding deed, the new commander of the French army, Marshal Richelieu, who had obtained the supreme command through intrigues and machinations at the French court, saw fit, against all expectation and common sense, to conclude with the Duke of Cumberland, at the monastery of Zeven, an armistice and a treaty on condition that his troops should no longer make war against the French. But, what was most foolish and ridiculous of all, it was also stipulated that all the allied and auxiliary troops in the Hanoverian army, those of Hesse-Kassel, Brunswick, Saxe-Gotha and Lippe, should be dismissed to their homelands with passports from Marshal Richelieu, while the English troops should likewise withdraw beyond the river Elbe, and those remaining at Stade should not cross the limits fixed in the agreement.

The conclusion of such an agreement, expected by no one, astonished the whole world as much as our return did.

The advantage to the King of Prussia that flowed from it was that the said troops, dismissed with passports, at once broke the word and promise they had given not to make war, all went over to the King of Prussia, entered his service and increased his army; and the King did not fail to take advantage of this and, having in this unexpected way rid himself of two such formidable enemies, took heart and resolved to settle accounts with the others one at a time, in which he at last succeeded more than he himself had thought and expected, as will be mentioned in more detail later.

With this I shall end my present letter. In the next one I shall tell you of our journey back, and meanwhile, saying that I am your sincere friend, I remain, et cetera.

THE MARCH BACK

Letter 51

My dear friend! Here is a letter which I leave to your discretion. It contains nothing but a description of such events as brought upon our army and our whole Russian nation, all over the world, a galling but deserved disgrace: for, going back, we left behind us everywhere only traces of shame, cowardice and unpardonable cruelty, all of which could not but be a source of vexation to every true patriot.

Coming now to the matter, I shall tell you first of all that as slowly and sluggishly as we had at first gone forward, so hastily and briskly did we go back, just as though some enormous calamity awaited us and we had been defeated by the enemy and were being chased by his whole army. The first signs of this haste we saw while still at the very place from which we went back. On the eve of the day on which we set out, an order was given that the number of wagons in the army be reduced as much as possible; and that officers should not have two, nor even one each, but that two officers should pack into one wagon and burn or throw away their superfluous things. One can easily conclude that this order was not very pleasant to us, but alarmed us all beyond measure. In great displeasure and grumbling at our commanders we said among ourselves then: "A fine reward for our labours! Instead of returning to the fatherland with spoils taken from the enemy, they order us to burn and throw away even what is our own!" But all such grumbling did not help us. Many were indeed obliged, carrying out this order, to part with almost their last bits of belongings, and afterwards, because of that very thing, to suffer even more need and hardship than they had suffered before. But I managed this time too to escape this evil. Being still a company commander at the time and almost alone in the company, I could, on the pretext that I had no one to join with, keep my wagon to myself and with it everything I had possessed until then.

So, on the said 29th, that is, exactly ten days after our battle, we set out on the march and trudged back in the direction of our fatherland. And since we could not go back by the same places by which we had gone forward, because they had all been laid waste and stripped clean, we bore somewhat to the right and took the direct road to the town of Insterburg, where various detachments of ours had been left. We hurried as much as we could; yet, for all our haste, we could not cover more than seven versts that day, for a crossing of a difficult place that lay in our path held us up so much that we were obliged to spend not only the whole of that day but the following day as well, that is, the 30th of August, floundering at this crossing.

On the 31st we continued our march further, and our vanguard corps, for which there was no longer any need, was broken up among the divisions, and our regiment fell into the third of them. On that last day of August we covered some thirteen versts.

On the day after that, that is, the 1st of September, the army went further, and that day it fell to our regiment to be in the rearguard and to march behind everyone; we were ordered to take the utmost care and to burn everything left behind by the army, including wagons that had unfortunately broken down. What an evil and particular misfortune for those whose things happened to get damaged or broken! Not the slightest pity was shown here and nothing was taken into consideration, even if someone was thereby deprived of his last possessions. However, although of the enemy there was neither sight nor sound nor word, there were several thousand men in the rearguard, and we marched in line in a whole column, just as though the enemy were following on our heels. Such a march caused us indescribable discomfort, such as we had never felt before; for since the weather was then dry and hot, and we marched straight across ploughed fields and grain fields, not distinguishing whether the land was fallow or sown with grain, the army, having passed over in a whole mass with all its artillery and countless wagons, so churned up the whole surface of the ground that it turned into the finest dust. And when our turn came to march behind, and in a whole column at that, such a dust rose that we marched in it just as in the thickest fog, such that one could not see one another a sazhen away. But between fog and dust there was this accursed difference, that in the former one can march without feeling any burden, whereas dust, getting into one's eyes, nostrils and mouth, not only turned us all into scarecrows but caused us extreme discomfort. In a word, that day was very memorable for us, and we could not forget it for a long time.

On the 2nd, which followed, we continued our march further; but having gone only some five versts, we halted and, because of the exhaustion of the horses, rested at this place for a day (the 3rd).

At last, on the 4th, the army came to the town of Insterburg and, without crossing the river Pregel, made camp and spent the night. In this little town were detachments of ours that had been left to guard the reserve provisions and other things. We were now obliged to take all this with us and to leave this town again in the power of the enemy. I cannot describe how great was the joy of the townspeople, watching our departure, and how great, on the other hand, was the shame with which we, being the victors, dragged ourselves back in this way without any need, leaving places that our arms had until then subdued.

In the morning, that is, on the 5th, as it was the name day of our then reigning Empress, our commanders took it into their heads to hold the customary celebration, and for this purpose regimental churches were set up in some regiments for the celebration of divine service, and the whole army was drawn up on parade, and the usual triple salute was fired from the cannon and muskets, and several poods of powder were shot off into the air. But to tell the truth, we had so much of it left that we did not know what to do with it.

We thought we would stay here the whole of that day, but the haste of our commander, or rather, his cowardice and his fear that the enemy might attack us and, God forbid, defeat the whole army, would by no means permit it.

Instead, by his order, we were obliged that same day, in great haste, to cross the river Pregel beyond the little town and make camp on the other side, and the bridges on the Pregel were taken down at that very moment.

We lingered in this camp scarcely an hour, but in the morning of the following day, the 6th, we went further; and so that there should be fewer hold-ups on the march, the army went by two roads towards the town of Tilsit, where our wounded and many other detachments were. The first and second divisions went along the right bank of the river, and the third along the left, and having covered more than fifteen versts that day, made camp. This march was very hard for us, because rainy, foul weather set in and it became very muddy. And since the road was also very uneven and there were crossings over streams and gullies everywhere, the whole second division and many baggage trains could not reach the camp not only that day but until the very night of the 7th, which obliged our field marshal, against his wish, to make a two-day rest here (the 8th).

It fell to our regiment here to be in the rearguard again, and to me with it. I mention this because we, marching in the rearguard, were obliged to spend the night on the road and in such discomfort as we had never yet spent a night in, and therefore that night was very memorable for us. We were obliged to spend the whole of it not only in the rain, standing in one place and under arms, but almost knee-deep in mud. The cause of this was the crossing of a small stream with low, boggy banks, flowing through a wide valley with marshy ground. Since all the baggage trains had to cross this stream by a few wretched little bridges that had been built, they could by no means hurry; and this was the reason why a countless multitude of wagons piled up at this place, which so churned up this whole boggy and soft spot that every wagon stood up to its hubs in mud, while the poor soldiers of our rearguard corps, following directly behind them, were obliged to stand almost knee-deep in mud and wait until all the baggage trains had got across the bridge, and to spend the whole night in that condition. Anyone can easily imagine how hard and uncomfortable this was for them; but not only they, we too, their officers, suffered no less discomfort. Our sole advantage over them was that we sat on our saddle horses and did not have to stand knee-deep in mud. But what was it like to sit the whole night on a horse in the cold and rain, without getting off it for a minute! Anyone can more easily imagine this hardship for himself than I can describe it. To our greater vexation, it was impossible anywhere to make even a little fire to warm our limbs, trembling and numb with cold. Everywhere it was wet, everywhere water, and everywhere mud, and mud deep and boggy.

However many times we tried to do it, all our efforts to light a fire were unsuccessful, and we, against our will, were obliged to shiver all night and curse both the baggage trains and the stream with its bridges, and we did not reach the camp until the next day.

Until this time we had still marched in peace and had not had the slightest news of the enemy; for one can easily conclude that the enemy had by no means expected such conduct from us, and at first would not believe it on hearing of our return march: but as soon as he received reliable news of it, he, exulting, at once sent in pursuit of us two squadrons of the black hussars of Ruesch's regiment, and after them a strong corps of cavalry under the command of the Prince of Holstein-Gottorp, and after him Field Marshal Lehwaldt himself set out in pursuit of us with his whole army. And since his advance parties soon caught up with us, they were sighted on the said 8th of September near our army and had already had a small skirmish with our Cossacks.

I do not know what induced the Prussian field marshal to undertake this business, which was in no way consistent with common sense. It seems the Prussians ought rather to have rejoiced that we, abandoning all the advantages we had gained, were going back, and common sense would have required them to try in every way to help us leave the borders of the Kingdom of Prussia as soon as possible and abandon it to them; consequently, by no means to hinder us in our march, but to let us go as we pleased. But they, on the contrary, took it into their heads to undertake this foolish pursuit, which brought them not the slightest benefit, and thereby almost forced us afterwards to ravage and lay waste their own lands; for since these few light troops of theirs that followed us, attacking either our foragers or our outlying guards, ceaselessly harassed our army, then to drive them off it became necessary at last to lay waste and burn all the settlements left behind the army, so that they could find shelter nowhere; and through this very thing the innocent country folk suffered much, as will be mentioned below.

So, however insignificant this pursuit was, it struck terrible fear into our timid commander. We were obliged to double our precautions, just as though the whole Prussian army were marching in sight on our heels. For this reason, without the least delay, on the 9th we set off on our way again and marched the whole day, as far as Amt Sommerau, at which place we spent the night.

In the whole course of the Prussian campaign the army never happened to be so well encamped as at this place. There was here a level, round and spacious valley containing nothing but meadows and surrounded on all sides by an unbroken chain of fairly high, but not steep, gently sloping hills. On these hills the camp of the whole army was laid out in a complete circle, so that it could all be seen as on the palm of one's hand; while the horses were let out into the valley to graze. One cannot describe enough what a pleasing sight was presented to the eye by these numerous herds of horses of every colour and the countless multitude of tents gleaming white on the hills. But this sight became still more striking when evening came and all the hills resounded, at the beating of the evening tattoo, with the sound of a countless multitude of drums and the playing of music in all the regiments, and when immediately afterwards all these hills were lit up with several thousand fires kindled by the soldiers among the baggage.

Truly, no illumination, however fine, could present a finer sight to the eye, and we could none of us admire it enough.

On the following day the army rested at this place; and since there was little fodder for the horses, it was necessary to send out foraging parties to the Prussian villages lying round about. On this occasion I very nearly lost both my servants, who were with the others on this foraging; for since the Prussian parties did not fail to harass our foragers that day too, and attacked the village where our men were busy loading hay, my men, not having managed to gallop away together with the others, lay hidden under the benches in a cottage until the Prussians had ridden off, and were so lucky that the Prussian hussars who came into that very cottage did not notice them at all. They told me on their return that never in their lives had they been in such fear as at that time; and, to tell the truth, there was something to be afraid of: it would have been not at all pleasant for them, and not good for me either, had they been seen; they would surely have been either taken prisoner or killed, and I would have been left without servants. But, thank God, they escaped this misfortune very luckily, and, what was best of all, they saved both their horses too.

Having rested at this place, on the following day, the 11th, we went further on the march, and at last reached the town of Tilsit itself, and made camp some three versts from it. Our brave commander took up quarters in the suburb and made his entry into the town to a cannon salute from Tilsit castle, which was not at all fitting. However, despite all his pomp, he ordered three whole brigades of infantry regiments to take up position right by the suburb to cover his headquarters.

I believe we would not have stayed here a single day had we not had to cross at Tilsit the large river Memel, which flows right under the town; across it there was indeed a bridge built by Count Fermor, but the whole army could not cross quickly by one bridge, and therefore orders were given to build two more, while the baggage trains crossed by the first in the meantime. At once (the 12th) detachments were sent from all the regiments to build these bridges, and I myself happened to be assigned to build one wooden bridge out of rafts. We were obliged to work at this day and night, and it gave us a great deal of trouble. We had to search all along the river for rafts of floated building timber and, bringing them together, bind and secure them and form the foundation of the bridge; and since the river was no small one, almost the size of our Oka, we did not know where to gather so many rafts and so much timber as was required for it, and were already about to start pulling down the nearby wooden buildings in order to use their timber for building the bridge; but, fortunately, the matter was settled without that, and all our labours went for nothing; for since at noon on the 13th an alarm arose again in the Cossack camps, and enemy parties attacked our foragers, there was no time to wait for all the bridges, but the regiments were ordered to cross with the greatest haste by the old bridge and by the newly built pontoon bridge. However, despite all the haste, the army had to spend more than three days on this crossing (the 13th, 14th and 15th), and in the meantime it drew provisions and baked bread for itself.

During this time we had occasion to visit the town and walk about it for necessary purchases. What we needed most of all was sugar, of which we were already short: but it cost great trouble to obtain it.

However much of it had been stocked in the town in all the shops, or so-called apothecaries', it had all been bought up on the very first day of the army's arrival there, and only those were lucky who had managed to snatch some in good time and to be among the first to visit the town; whoever was even a little late could obtain not only no sugar but nothing to eat or drink at all, for everyone was in need of these things and everyone was greedy to buy. Never, I think, since the very founding of this town, had the inhabitants of Tilsit sold so many of these things and made so much profit on them as at that time. For each and every thing we paid more than three times the price, and paid not with vexation but even with pleasure, counting it a favour that it was sold to us at all.

This very thing happened then to me personally. As I was a little late, it would have been hard for me to obtain anything had not my German helped me in this case too. The apothecary to whom I came to buy sugar refused me at once, saying that he had no more, and assured me moreover that I would find none anywhere. But I, at once starting to speak German with him, told him so much about the need I was suffering and how much I needed it that I moved him to pity. "Very well, very well, Mr Sub-Lieutenant," he said to me most kindly, "although I had resolved not to sell any more to anyone from the small quantity that I had kept for myself; but what is to be done, so be it! I will share with you at least the remainder and sell you one loaf. Only please come with me into the inner rooms." One can easily conclude that I did not walk but flew into them after him, and my apothecary, solely because I could speak German with him, became so well disposed towards me that he not only sold me a whole loaf but also gave me tea to drink, and I counted it a great favour that he took no more than a rouble a pound from me, for others would gladly have paid three roubles if only it could be had. This German's honesty was even so great that he apologised to me for not being able to sell me more, but said that if I wished, he had plenty of muscovado, or granulated sugar, and I could buy as much of it as I liked. And since I had never before had occasion to see this sand, he not only showed it to me but, assuring me that one could drink tea with it if need be, at once poured me a cup with it and let me try it. And since I liked it, I bought more than ten pounds of this sugar from him and went back to camp as though I had made a splendid find. There everyone envied me my luck, and since my muscovado pleased everyone, by that very day not a single grain of it was left at my apothecary's, for all the officers rushed at once into town to buy it, and bought up whatever there was of it.

Another thing that was likewise hard for us to obtain was wheaten bread and rolls.

All the bread-makers and bakers there were in this town grew rich on selling them; in front of each one's house we would find a huge crowd of people waiting for them to be taken out of the oven and snatching up in an instant however many had been baked. Everyone counted it good fortune if only he managed to get some, not saying a word about the price and not grudging that ten kopecks were taken for a kopeck loaf. My German helped me greatly in this case too. It may be said in praise of all Germans that they are exceptionally well disposed to those foreigners who can speak their language. And exactly that happened to me then. My baker had no sooner heard me beseeching him in German to sell me as many as he could than he asked me to throw him my handkerchief through the window over the crowd, and he was so kind as to tie up a whole ten small loaves in it and hand me the whole bundle. "There! Here you are, Mr Sub-Lieutenant," he said, "eat them in good health!" I thanked him beyond words for his kindness and paid him the money for them with very great joy.

In this way I managed to buy everything else for myself with incomparably better success than others who did not understand German. Besides, having time to walk over the whole town, I found that it was a very fine little town, not only larger but also better than all those seen before. The buildings in it were fine, of stone and of wood, and there was a fair number of inhabitants, and among them quite a few well-to-do ones,

While all this was going on and the army was crossing the river little by little, small enemy parties kept appearing nearby, which, though they could do nothing important, harassed us, seeing our timidity. This at last so vexed our commander that he, finding no other means to put an end to this disturbance, resorted out of vexation to a deed fit only for Tatars, and ordered all the places where the enemy appeared and nested to be ravaged with fire and sword, and a fine little town and Amt called Ragnit, lying a few versts from Tilsit, up the river Memel, was obliged to be the first to feel this cruelty.

The regiments crossing the river took up position on the other side in the appointed camp; and since enemy hussars appeared on that side too, three brigades were sent across first to cover that camp. At last, on the 16th of September, our commander too crossed the river with all his escort and the remaining regiments, and on the following day (the 17th), when the last men and troops had been brought across, all three bridges were taken down, and on the bank, directly opposite the town, a picket was posted consisting of a thousand grenadiers and musketeers.

In this way we crossed the river Memel, and on the 18th we stood here on the bank in peace, and the whole army baked bread for the road.

We, thinking ourselves here in complete safety at last, would have stayed here still longer had there not occurred an incident as ridiculous as it was vexing, which served to increase our disgrace and forced us to move on sooner, namely:

Our chief commander, who in all justice ought to have been ashamed before the very walls, took it into his head, on the contrary, to do something strange and astonishing. Since the following day was the 19th of September, and exactly a month had passed since the victory he had won over the enemy, out of vainglory or feeble-mindedness it came into his head to pride himself once more on this victory and to hold on that day a celebration such as had never been held anywhere by anyone before him. His ambition was so great that it did not allow him to perceive all the incongruity, or rather the foolishness, of this undertaking. But be that as it may, on the eve of that day, in the evening, an order was issued throughout the army that on the following day there would be a celebration and a cannon salute. We all roared with laughter on hearing the reason for it, and there was no one who did not condemn this act of our commander. No sooner had this memorable day arrived than the celebration devised by our field marshal did indeed begin, but, to our surprise, very early, for it had barely grown light when we already heard cannon fire. We listened to it coolly and, laughing at the field marshal's ambition, even said to one another: "Evidently the celebration lies very close to our lord commander's heart, since he has begun it so early!" "Yes!" said others, "evidently we have plenty of powder too, since he is pleased to amuse himself so and to waste it all for nothing. Would it not be better to try to forget this victory rather than to pride oneself on it to one's own shame?" But no sooner had we talked and laughed among ourselves in this way than suddenly a quite unexpected occurrence forced us to cut short our chatter and, struck with extreme astonishment, to start thinking something quite different. Out of nowhere an enormous cannonball, flying close by us, struck an officer's tent and in an instant knocked it over and tore it apart so that only shreds flew from it. "Ba! Ba! Ba!" we cried, seeing this, "what is this?" But we had not yet recovered from our astonishment when, with a mighty whistle, another flew past us, struck the baggage train and smashed several wagons, and after it a third and a fourth, and the cannonballs kept flying and tearing down and knocking over tents. "Amen! Amen!" we cried, "what is this? What strange thing is this? Lord have mercy! Where are these cannonballs coming from?

Has our field marshal gone out of his mind, ordering live shot to be fired at his own camp too?" In a word, we did not know what to think, to what to ascribe this and what to do, especially when we saw danger everywhere and did not know where to hide from the cannonballs.

Now, I hope, you, my dear friend, are in the same impatience to learn what this strange thing might be as we were at that time? But since we did not learn of it soon, you too must be a little patient and wait for my next letter, in which I shall tell you what the cause of it was and what cannonballs flew through our tents and baggage, and until then allow me to break off this letter and tell you that I am, et cetera.

AT TILSIT

Letter 52

My dear friend! Having left you at the end of my last letter at a very curious point and impatient to learn why cannonballs suddenly began flying through our camp, I now wish to satisfy your curiosity and solve this riddle for you.

Our lords the chief commanders had not left Tilsit in such great haste without reason, nor feared and dreaded the enemy for nothing; a rumour had reached them that we were being pursued not only by light enemy hussar parties, but that Field Marshal Lehwaldt himself, with almost his whole army, was following on our heels and was already very close. This news threw them into such faint-heartedness and cowardice that they themselves did not know what to do or undertake, and so it is no wonder that, leaving the town in great haste and trying to get across the river as quickly as possible, they committed a multitude of laughable deeds and such errors as can never be forgiven them. For, in the first place, was it not a laughable thing that, on leaving Tilsit altogether, they wished by mere threats to compel the townspeople to an utterly impossible thing, namely, not to let the Prussian troops into their town after us? A demand, in truth, most strange and astonishing! For how could these unarmed inhabitants do this, and could one in common sense demand it of them? And to compel them to it by threats, they had pitch wreaths placed on the houses, so that the town could be set on fire in an instant and turned entirely to ashes; and, what was more ridiculous still, they posted on the very bank of the river opposite the town the above-mentioned picket with guns, in open ground and without the slightest cover, and, having summoned the town's authorities, told them that if, after the Russian troops had left, they let the Prussians into the town, the whole town would be shot to pieces, burned and destroyed. In the second place, their haste and confusion of mind on leaving the town were so great that they completely forgot the Prussian guns that were in Tilsit castle and left them there. Now, could there be a more unpardonable error than this, and was this not an extraordinary blunder?

But as negligent as we were, so quick, on the contrary, were the Prussian gentlemen. They had no sooner found out that our troops had left Tilsit than they occupied it that very moment.

Four battalions of their infantry, with a great many guns, entered the town that same night, and after them followed Field Marshal Lehwaldt himself. These troops that had entered had no sooner seen our whole camp across the river, and on the very bank, on the bare sand, a picket posted without any cover and, as it were, delivered up as a sacrifice, than they at once dragged the large guns down from the castle walls and, making several batteries on the bank out of them and out of those they had brought with them, at daybreak opened such heavy fire on our picket that the old colonel of our regiment who commanded it, Plantdewildenberg, did not know where to hide from the cannonballs. And although he replied to them with his own guns, yet being able to do them no harm, and seeing his whole detachment exposed to vain destruction, and having lost some fifty men, he was obliged to retreat to the camp.

The Prussians, not content with that, turned their guns on our camp itself too, and since, owing to their size, their cannonballs reached it, they began to press it mercilessly, and especially to fire at the field marshal's tent; and since this was not far from our regiment, their cannonballs for that very reason reached our very camp.

Such a game did not please our field marshal at all. He flew into a rage on seeing this and hearing the whistle of the cannonballs. The danger threatening himself forced him to forget his senseless celebration, for which he was punished as he deserved, and to think of his own safety. A very great alarm and confusion arose from this throughout the camp. Everywhere there was galloping about, and everywhere a cry was heard: "Artillery! Artillery! Bring up the guns quickly, howitzers, mortars, bombs, take them to the bank, fire at the town, throw bombs, set it on fire and destroy it to the ground!..." But all our vexation and all our fury at the enemy produced no effect. Although several hundred cannonballs were fired into the town and several dozen bombs thrown, and although the firing on both sides continued from early morning until past noon and for more than four hours, yet with all our firing we did not manage to do any appreciable harm either to the enemy or to the town, except that we broke a few tiled roofs and chimneys on their houses and wounded one gunner. And so, seeing our poor success and not wishing to expose our camp to danger any longer, we were at last obliged to break up our whole camp and move it a few versts further away, and so end this whole comedy, to our shame and disgrace.

Now one can easily conclude that such mockery and humiliation from the enemy were extremely galling to our field marshal.

In his vexation at this, not only did he refuse to honour with an answer the proposal for an exchange of prisoners sent by the enemy field marshal with a trumpeter, but ordered the trumpeter's trumpet alone to be sent back with a peasant, together with a note signed by no one, saying that the Prussians had shot their trumpeter themselves; but besides that, wishing to put an end once and for all to all the disturbances caused by the enemy and to make it impossible for the Prussian army to follow ours any further, he ordered all the settlements left behind us to be ravaged and laid waste with fire and sword, one after another, leaving not a single one intact, so that the enemy could find refuge nowhere. And this very thing, as it later turned out, stopped the Prussian army from further pursuit, and they contented themselves with sending only a very small number of hussars after us.

Having moved away from the bank in the above-mentioned manner and occupied a new camp, we remained in it not only that day but the whole of the following day as well; and although it was no time to think of celebrations, because on that day winter weather had already set in for us, snow had fallen and the foulest autumn weather had begun, yet for the birthday (the 20th) of the Grand Duke there was a celebration at the field marshal's and a cannon salute.

Besides this, this place was memorable to me because during our stay at Tilsit and here we had great abundance of everything. For since the field marshal had allowed the Cossacks and our other light troops to plunder, lay waste and ravage all the places nearby, the Cossacks dragged into our camp such a multitude of cattle, poultry and every other kind of provisions that everything was sold very cheaply and everyone was more than satisfied. But of nothing was there so much as of honey: they no longer knew where to get rid of it, and therefore carried it about everywhere through the regiments and the baggage trains and sold it for a mere trifle. A full mess-tin lid of the very best raw honey sold, for example, for no more than one kopeck. So only he did not eat honey who did not want to. As for me, having been from childhood a great lover of all sweets, and especially of honey, I gorged myself on it on this occasion, and truly it came at last to the point where it seemed bitter to me.

But as pleased as we were on this side, so displeased were we on the other, because the very fine and warm weather that had prevailed until then suddenly changed and became cold and the foulest autumn weather.

This change was all the more painful to us because hardly any of us had fur coats, and everyone, as the proverb says, was caught by winter in summer clothes. Until then we had least of all thought of providing ourselves with winter clothing. But the first snow that fell then, and the slush and foul weather that set in and continued, brought us to our senses about it and compelled us, unwillingly, to think of this matter. But where were fur coats to be had then on the march? And from whom to buy them, when everyone suffered the same want? I counted it great good fortune that I managed to buy from the Cossacks a huge sheepskin coat, which, though sewn from plain sheepskins, was welcome, for it was no time to be choosy, and we were glad to be able to warm our limbs, trembling with cold, with anything at all. As for the cold endured in our tent, my companion found a means of protecting himself and me from that too. Arriving first at the camp that had been taken up, he had my tent pitched first and then, over mine, his own captain's tent, and, filling a brazier full of embers, carried it in under the inner tent and thereby warmed it so well that I, arriving from the march chilled to the bone, entered it as into veritable paradise and could not praise him enough for his invention and for heating the tent in this way; and since at that very time he also had hot tea ready, and afterwards a fine and hearty supper was prepared, I was so content that evening that it remained very memorable to me for the rest of the campaign, all the more so because I never again had another such peaceful and pleasant night's lodging; for, to my very great vexation, the very next morning I was detailed by the regiment as orderly to the field marshal and was obliged, parting with my friend, to attach my wagon to the field marshal's baggage train and to be away from my regiment for several days, having handed over the company to our former lieutenant Korzhavin, who had returned to it.

Moreover, at this very place our army began little by little to disperse, and all the cavalry, except for a few selected squadrons, and half of the Cossacks were sent from here to winter in Poland, where they at once set off, while the main army, with all the infantry regiments, was to go to winter in Samogitia and Courland.

We left this camp no earlier than the 21st of September; and although the march was not very long, it was very hard because of the continuing heavy slush and cold, so that the whole army suffered great discomfort and was obliged to spend the night almost without tents; for the greater part of the baggage trains could not reach the new camp, and that day was very memorable for the army. In the whole course of the campaign it had not endured so much toil and hardship as on that day; not, however, because it had to cover a great distance, for the march was very moderate, but because it had to go through low, flat places with frequent brooks and boggy hollows, cut across by such places as are not very dry even in good times and in dry weather, and which then, being soaked by the incessant rain, slush and snow and churned up by countless wheels and horses, had turned into the most boggy and sticky mud, out of which one could hardly pull one's feet. And so anyone can easily imagine what it was like for the whole infantry to march and for all the baggage trains to drag themselves through such mud, and in slush and great cold, foul weather at that.

Truly, even now I cannot recall with a calm spirit and without inward shuddering all that I saw on that day.

Fate, as though on purpose, gave me the most convenient occasion to see the pitiful state of the army at that time and to be an eyewitness of all the evil it suffered; for, being at that very time an orderly to the field marshal, I could see much more than before, when I was with the regiment, and for that very reason I can tell in more detail of this unhappy day, so ruinous for many.

The lowness of the places there and the extremely foul weather of that time were the reason that the whole road along which the army had to go was so churned up by the advance troops alone, and especially by the cavalry, that even for us, with the field marshal and his baggage, although we set off before everyone, the going was already very bad; and when the artillery with its heavy loads and the heavy baggage trains came rolling along, such a sticky bog and mud opened up everywhere that I cannot describe it at all. Be that as it may, we with the field marshal arrived at the appointed new camp still very early and settled down comfortably: he in his huge tents and warm felt Kalmyk kibitkas, and we likewise in some tents or other in his baggage train. I was so lucky that here too I unexpectedly found an acquaintance. With the field marshal at that time, as if on purpose, the duty major and commander over all of us orderlies happened to be my nearest country neighbour, Prince Ivan Romanovich Gorchakov. This man I had not known at all until then; but, when asking me who I was, he had no sooner heard my surname than he told me himself that our villages bordered on each other, and he was so friendly to me that I was pleased with him beyond words. He at once took me under his special protection, and I had to dine and sup with him the whole time I was serving as orderly.

Soon after dinner, following us, the infantry too dragged itself up somehow. It was laughable and pitiful to look at: there was not a single man who was not almost knee-deep in mud, and many were smeared with mud from head to foot. All the regiments were at once dismissed to the camps assigned to them, but these camps were still empty and without tents: for the baggage trains had all remained far behind and were not even in sight yet. A wretched crossing over a boggy stream, right in the very village where we had stood before and from which we had set out, and the little bridges hastily thrown across it, which kept breaking, held them up so much that they floundered the whole day crossing it. And the poor soldiers were obliged for a long time to be without tents and to endure cold and wet under snow and rain with only their cloaks. To make matters worse, there was not enough firewood to be found in the new camp to make enough fires and warm themselves at them; and some regiments were still more unfortunate: owing to lack of space, they had to camp on ground that could be considered a veritable quagmire and swamp, where one could not stand in one place for even a quarter of an hour unless one wished a puddle to form on that spot and one's feet to end up a quarter of an arshin or more in water from the soft and yielding ground.

At last, when evening had already come and only the first of the baggage trains were beginning to appear, this began to trouble and worry our field marshal.

He kept sending orderlies to urge them to come faster. But all this produced no result. The weather grew worse by the hour and the road fouler; and when night fell such darkness came on that one could not see a thing, and with it such cold that even in a fur coat it could barely be endured. Judge now what it was like for our poor soldiers, who had not waited for their wagons and were spending the night on the wet ground, in rain and snow, under only their cloaks? And what happened to the poor baggage train, I cannot recall without pity; I happened to be an eyewitness of it, and this is how:

At midnight our field marshal woke up and, hearing that not all the baggage trains had yet arrived, wished to send yet another orderly there. Though he had many of these orderlies, for there was one from every regiment, it so happened that at that moment none was present: all had been sent off to various places, and I alone of them all remained. Prince Gorchakov, however much he had tried until then to spare me, purposely sending me nowhere, now had no means of sparing me this errand. With great regret he came to my tent himself and, waking me from sleep, said: "Get up, Andrey Timofeyevich! What is to be done; though I would not wish to disturb you and send you out at this hour, sheer necessity demands it. Do not hold it against me, for God's sake. The Count is now asking for an orderly, and there is no one but you, so let us go to him." This vexed me exceedingly, for I had only just got warm under my sheepskin coat and fallen asleep; but knowing the necessity myself, I did not grumble at the prince in the least, but followed him patiently.

On coming to the field marshal, I could not help laughing inwardly at what I saw there. I found him in a huge kibitka, richly decorated inside and well warmed with braziers and spirit lamps, lying on featherbeds on one bed, and his personal physician, or doctor, on another; but what, would you think, was our commander occupied with, in the sad circumstances of the time? Truly it is shameful to say. He was pleased to be listening to fairy tales from a grenadier sitting at a little table at his head and babbling absurd nonsense at the top of his voice. My God, I thought to myself then, there is an occupation truly befitting the field marshal of so great an army, and at such a time! The prince at once reported to him that he had brought an orderly, and then he began to give me his orders. "Listen, my friend!" he said to me, "ride along the road where the army went, right to the place from which we set out today, and see how many baggage trains are still on the road, and whether they have all crossed the stream? And if not all, then count for me how many wagons have not yet crossed." "Yes, Your Excellency!" I answered, "only I doubt that counting will be possible: the darkness is now so great that one can see almost nothing even a sazhen away." "Well, at least see roughly how many," he said, "only go, and come back quickly."

Having received this order, I put on my sheepskin coat over my uniform and, wrapping myself well in it and in a cloak I put on over it, took two Cossacks as escort and set off on horseback on my way.

I ordered one of the Cossacks to ride in front of me, so that I could tell where there was a rut and where a bog, and so as not to fall off my horse and break my neck by riding into a pit or into the mire; and I ordered the other to ride behind me and not to fall back a single step. The darkness was indeed terrible and the road so churned up and spoiled that I kept expecting to fall off my horse in the same way as had already happened more than once to my leading Cossack. However, we had barely left the camp when we began to meet wagons in such a state and condition as I cannot recall without inward pity. Here a cart was stuck in the mud, and the horses, exhausted, lay stretched out. In another place I came upon horses already quite dead, and the drivers themselves barely alive; the cold and wet had utterly broken them; and riding further, I came upon both horses and drivers dead of cold: the former had dropped and died just as they were going, while the latter, huddled up, sat behind their wagons and had gone stiff like that. Here the horses alone stood up to their bellies in the mire, while the driver lay lifeless half a verst away from them. In a word, the whole road was filled with such sad sights that I could not look at them without inward shuddering. At last we saw a glow in the distance, and then flames lighting up the whole horizon, and could easily conclude that this must be the place where I was to go and where that wretched crossing was which had caused so much delay. I set off with my Cossacks towards this glow and, because of the darkness, very nearly got stuck in the mire and swamp myself, but at last we got there somehow.

But what did I see there? Several hundred wagons had crowded together at the crossing, and one heard only wailing, noise and cracking. Some of them lay overturned off the causeway into the swamp and half sunk in it; others lay on their sides; others had broken axles, and others broken wheels, and all in the greatest disorder and in such a crush that I had no way of getting through, not only to count them but even to take them in at a glance. And so I contented myself with asking how many baggage trains were still there beyond the stream, and heard that there were some six hundred more and upwards behind. Then nothing remained for me but to ride back; but since the Cossacks and I were mercilessly chilled ourselves, we decided first to stop and warm ourselves at a fire nearby.

But what fire, would you think, was this? Ah! I cannot recall even this without pity. It was a fine building standing in flames. Unfortunately, right at the very place where this crossing was, there happened to be a fine Prussian village; and since the peasant farmsteads were huge, thatched with sheaves and standing at a distance from one another, it was in this village that our men who were crossing set fire to them, farmstead after farmstead, so as both to have the light from the flames and to warm themselves. My God! I thought to myself, what woeful consequences war brings with it! How is this poor village to blame for happening to be in this place? However, having grieved, I too kept the others company and, having lain on a hillock and warmed myself before the fire, set off on the way back to report to the field marshal all that I had found and seen. He had no sooner seen me enter his kibitka than he at once asked: "Well, my friend, are there many more?" "Very many, Your Excellency," I answered, and then told him all I had seen: how I had come upon wagons scattered along the road and across the fields, how I had seen many drivers and horses dead, and the rest of what I had seen.

But what would you think he said to this? Nothing; he only ordered me to go to my place, and the grenadier to continue telling the tale interrupted by my arrival.

That is the kind of field marshal we had on our campaign of that time! The people entrusted to his command and care were perishing and suffering in the cruellest way, and he, at that very time, was amusing himself by listening to stupid tales full of nothing but absurdities. Small wonder that the army suffered incomparably greater losses on this return march than on the way into Prussia. But I shall return to my subject and continue my account.

For all the above-mentioned reasons we were obliged to make a halt at this place and wait for the baggage trains, which did not all arrive until towards evening of the next day. This time was used for burning all superfluous things. All the baggage trains were inspected, and everything superfluous burned and thrown away. How many guns, how many cannonballs and bombs, how much powder and other things and munitions of war did we throw into the water here and bury in the ground, because there was nothing to carry them on! But all this helped little. The burden was reduced only a little, and the toil was the same; and I do not know how we would have got through had not nature itself taken pity on us and brought about some change in the weather, so that it became somewhat drier and better.

Moreover, on this second night too I had to suffer some disturbance. Since all the necessary precautions against the enemy were observed at this time too, which, in view of the dark nights of that time, were not superfluous, the general-major on duty each day had the custom, at nightfall, of riding round the whole camp and checking whether everything ordered was being carried out everywhere and whether the necessary pickets had been posted. He usually took several of us orderlies with him, and on this night I too had to be in his suite. The general-major on duty with us at that time was Count Pyotr Aleksandrovich Rumyantsev, who afterwards became so famous, and it was with him that we rode then to inspect all the regiments and posts. Even now I cannot recall without laughing our ride with him then. No rogue, I think, was ever so cursed and abused as we were then with him. But what was most laughable of all was that, although we were abused and cursed most mercilessly and with every kind of foul word, we were obliged to bear it patiently and without the slightest vexation, and, instead of getting angry, only to laugh at it. The cause of this was the extreme darkness of that night and the fact that we, riding through the regiments and past the officers' tents, kept catching the tent ropes with our horses' legs and, thus shaking all the tents, disturbed the officers sleeping in them, who, not knowing at all who was riding so carelessly and daring to disturb their rest, grew angry, shouted and cursed us mercilessly, and sometimes so well that we nearly split our sides laughing and readily forgave them for it.

Having spent two nights at this place in the said manner, on the 23rd we set out on the march again and, making short marches, marched on that day, as on the 24th, 25th, 26th and 27th, without halts, suffering great want and discomfort, especially from the cold and the rains that still continued.

Nothing in particular happened during this time, except that we, like veritable barbarians, burned villages, noblemen's houses and hamlets everywhere, and by day smoke rose everywhere, and by night glows and fires were to be seen on all sides.

What a sight for a compassionate and humane heart! No one was spared here. And however fine a dwelling or building might be, it had to be turned to ashes. But why? Only because two squadrons of enemy cavalry were pursuing us, and the Prussian field marshal had seen fit to send them after us to observe our march and movement; while ours could not understand that they could do us no serious harm, and instead of sending men to drive them off, thought it better to hold them back by laying waste all the places left behind us and putting everything to fire and sword, without thinking in the least that by such cruelty he was bringing upon our whole nation before the whole world a very great disgrace and such a stain as will remain for ever in history and can be washed away by nothing; for imagine to yourself, my dear friend, what our enemies wrote at that time in the gazettes about this devastation and what opinion of us they gave to the whole world:

"The Russians," they said, "on leaving Prussia did not leave a good memory of themselves there, but until they had crossed the border, engaged only in inhumanities and cruelties. The town and Amt of Ragnit, with almost all the villages of its district, have been turned completely to ashes. The villages of sixteen other Amts have suffered the same fate. All the cattle were taken from the inhabitants and partly slaughtered. A great multitude of country people were partly shot, partly burned, partly led away into captivity, especially young people. Many clergymen were flogged, and others tortured with red-hot coals; a multitude of churches were plundered, a fate shared by the tomb of General la Cara at Wiedlacken, etc." They wrote further that Prussian peasants and hussars had in various places done no small harm to us Russians too, and that they had not only taken back from us much that we had plundered, but had killed many and taken many prisoner, and had also captured not a few baggage trains as booty, and that, among other things, they had captured a colonel from General Sibilsky's corps and brought him to the army, from whom up to 3,000 thalers in ready money, two gold watches and a carriage with 6 horses had been taken; and that no quarter whatever was given to the Cossacks and Kalmyks, and therefore on this return march they did not venture far from the army to the sides.

That is what the Prussians wrote about us then! But whether all this was true or not, I cannot say; for all this could have been done by our Kalmyks and Cossacks roaming about to the sides; but it is also true that the Prussians in their reports usually lied a great deal and made an elephant out of a fly. At least, we who were in the army at that time heard nothing of such murders and tortures, nor of the colonel taken prisoner; but that we carried out the devastation and laying waste of places by fire, that cannot be denied. We were not only eyewitnesses of it, but were ourselves sent to burn villages.

I myself was once detailed to destroy a fine village by fire; but I was glad that I persuaded another officer to take this commission upon himself, for which I felt an inward aversion.

Having spent, in the said manner, five whole days on the march without halts, at last, on the 28th, we rested from our hard march, and at this place received a small cause for rejoicing, namely: an order came from the court that the whole army should be paid a third of a year's salary, not to be counted against future pay. Besides this, I remember from this period that in these last days, marching all the while through treeless and mostly sandy places, we suffered a great shortage of firewood and were obliged to use peat, both for warming ourselves and for cooking our food; fortunately, we found great quantities of it laid in in the Prussian villages. At every farmstead huge stacks or piles of this earth fuel, or dried turf, had been built up, and we burned as much of it as we liked, having soon learned to use it as well as firewood.

On the following day we continued our march further, and on the 30th rested again, and at this place the army was divided anew into two divisions.

From this time on we no longer hurried so, partly because we had not much further to go, and partly because the enemy parties had at last fallen behind us, and we now marched without any danger. So on the first of October we marched, and on the second and third rested and sent detachments ahead to Memel to receive provisions and bake bread. Then on the 4th we again covered some six versts and there again stood for two days. During all this time we suffered no great want in anything, and only the cold and the frosts that had set in troubled us. But necessity taught us to find ourselves a fairly comfortable refuge even from them. All of us officers abandoned our large officers' tents and began to live in small soldiers' tents, heating them with braziers and charcoal; and so that the warmth should not escape so quickly, we usually used two tents and put one over the other, in such a way that one had its front facing this way and the other the opposite way. The flaps, let down right to the ground, we pegged tight to the ground; and so that the cold could not get into the tent from below, we heaped earth over the very edges at the bottom; while the outer tent we sprinkled a little with water, so that the warmth could not pass through it so quickly. Through all this, and by heating the tent with braziers of glowing charcoal, we obtained very warm refuges for ourselves. And since each of us had beds and carried them with him, we had no need to sleep on the ground and lay about in them as in bathhouses; only it was a pity that this hired warmth did not last long but soon passed, and that we had to repeat the heating several times a day; and also that the entrance to the tent was not very free and obliged us to stoop and crawl under the wall.

At last, on the 7th of October, on my birthday and the day I entered the twentieth year of my life, we reached our famous Memel and made camp some two versts from this fortress, while the field marshal took up quarters in the town and made a public entry into it, to cannon fire.

Here we stood a whole week and were occupied in receiving provisions and baking bread, and also in supplying ourselves with other necessary things, for in this town we could now obtain and buy all sorts of things.

While all this was going on, the second division of our army, under the command of General-in-Chief Browne, went away from us and turned to the right, into the Polish province adjoining there, Zhmudia, or Samogitia, where winter quarters had been assigned to it. We, however, remained with the field marshal, and all the regiments were divided by brigades, of which three brigades went into cantonment quarters in Courland, while five regiments remained at Memel, for we did not think fit to abandon this fortress.

Our regiment was fortunate enough to be included among those which were assigned to go and winter in Courland. And so, having crossed the river at Memel on the 15th, we set out on the march, and on the 16th spent the night at the Polish border, by the little town of Polangen, and on the 17th at last reached the Courland border and spent the night by the manor of Budendiz, and the next morning rested there.

On the 19th we set out on the march again and, having gone a mile and a half, made camp by the village of Lagnger, and on the following day, having gone two miles, for the first time took up quarters and spent the night in them.

It is impossible to describe how pleasant even the poorest peasant huts were to us then! After enduring so much toil, cold and discomfort, we were glad beyond words to get at last to some warmth, and for us the most wretched Latvian cottages were better than white-stone palaces. But that is no wonder, since it was then already the very depth of autumn and there was cold with daily frosts.

On the 21st we set out on the march again and, having gone some three miles, were obliged, for want of quarters, to spend the night in tents in the cold again, and, what was more vexing still, to rest there for a day as well.

On the 23rd we went further and, having reached the church of Ober-Sartau, all took up quarters.

On the 24th our brigade divided, and the Kiev regiment went to the left, while we, with the Second Moscow, went to the right; and soon afterwards the Second Moscow regiment too went off from us to one side, and we remained alone and spent the night in quarters taken up in the villages.

On the 25th we went further still with our regiment and, having made a short march, spent the night in quarters, and on the following day the companies began to separate from us and disperse to the sides; while we remained with the colours.

One cannot describe enough with what pleasant and special feelings such an approach to winter quarters is accompanied.

Although it was then deep autumn, it was merrier and more pleasant for us to travel than in springtime itself. Every copse and every thicket seemed dear to us, and the thought that we would soon win ourselves rest sweetened everything and lent all visible objects a certain particular charm.

On the 27th of October we went further and at last arrived at our proper cantonment quarters at the manor of Zirau, lying in Courland, and took up quarters in the villages round about it.

Thus ended our first Prussian campaign, undertaken in 1757, of which you may now judge for yourself whether it was glorious or inglorious, and whether it served us to our benefit or to our harm and detriment. As for me, I know only that the whole benefit consisted solely in this: that we had a look at the Prussians, learned to fight them, found out how one marches on campaigns and what the toils of war are, took the city of Memel, struck fear into the Prussians and proved to them that we know how to fight and are not such swine as they took us for. Moreover, it cannot but be said that this campaign of ours cost much toil and many losses, in men as well as in money and in everything else. In a word: it was a preparation and a school for our future military operations.

With this I shall end my present letter, and in the next I shall tell what followed; and meanwhile I remain yours, et cetera.

Letter 53

My dear friend! I ended my last letter with our having returned from our campaign and taken up winter quarters in Courland; and now, continuing my account further, I shall tell you that in these quarters we spent the remaining part of that year in the most peaceful manner. Both remaining months, November and December, passed peacefully for us, and I do not remember any important or particular event that happened about that time. Our field marshal took up his headquarters in the Courland seaside town of Libau, while to our regiment, as already mentioned before, quarters had been assigned in the neighbourhood of the manor of Zirau, where our old colonel also took up quarters. As for me, that winter I was far from being as fortunate as the previous one. Our company had been assigned quarters not far from the above-mentioned manor; but since by that time I was no longer company commander, because the lieutenant himself was with the company, the best quarters, intended for the company commander on a fine small outlying farm, were taken by him; and I was obliged to content myself with the best peasant farmstead that could be found in all the villages assigned to our company. But since all the villages and peasant farmsteads there are little better than the Livonian ones, it cannot be said that my quarters were enviable. They were assigned to me in a village lying some five versts from my lieutenant, and I counted myself fortunate that I managed to find a peasant farmstead in which, beside the cottage, a small chamber had been built on at the side, with three little red windows and a Dutch stove, which, though not very light and rather sooty from peasant neglect, I was at least glad that the stove was a proper one and that I was not troubled by smoke, and, what was best of all, it was as warm as a bathhouse.

That warmth was the dearest thing of all to us; for, having endured so much cold and hardship on the march, we were glad of even the meanest hovel.

And so, although my little lodging was a very middling one, I was quite content with it. I set it in order as best I could. The trampled and filthy floor I had properly washed and scraped; my stove I whitewashed; the walls, too, I had properly swept, cleaned and then washed; and to lend them at least some adornment, I nailed up on them two painted portraits which I had chanced to buy on the march for a trifle from some soldiers who had got hold of them when Allenburg Castle was plundered, and which made up the only booty I ever brought back from Prussia. Further, I set my little bed in one corner, and in the other, beside the stove and under the little window, I set up my camp table and assigned myself a little spot to sit; and since we had paper enough, and ink as well, and a little shelf filled with my books stood beside me, I needed nothing more; and, having unpacked and settled in this way, I began to live in the warmth as in the kingdom of heaven, or, better said, like some hermit, in utter solitude and peace. For it must be said that my lieutenant, though a decent enough man, was not one with whom one could pleasantly share one's time; so I had no wish to ride over to him often, and of the other officers none was quartered close to me. As for the local manor holders, or Courland nobles, those parts were somehow empty, and there were no nobles living nearby, so that all winter I did not (happen) to see a single one of them, nor did I even hear of anyone living anywhere close.

For all these reasons I was obliged to live alone and, as it were, under lock and key; and this solitude would surely soon have wearied me, had I not had a love of learning and long ago formed the habit of occupying myself with reading books and writing; and it was this very habit that helped me a great deal on this occasion; for no sooner had I fully settled in than I at once found myself work. I have mentioned before that during the march, in idle hours, I had been translating the book of Cleveland I had newly bought in Riga; and as I had already translated a good deal of it, I resolved then to make a fair copy of the translation in the best and handsomest hand I could; and so, having made little quires of the best post paper, I began to copy out my translation, always grinding Indian ink for the writing and employing all my skill in the copying to give my little book the finest appearance; and, occupied with this, I never noticed how the deep and most tedious autumn season slipped by.

Besides this, chance provided me with a companion of sorts.

There lived with my host a little old craftsman who made a living sewing peasant clothes for the village folk, and it was for him, in fact, that the very little room in which I was then living had been built. At first I did not know who this person was; for, since he had been turned out of the little room for my sake, he lived in the host's cottage, and I took no notice of him; but as the way out of my room always led through the cottage, I saw him every day, and one day I grew curious about him and, to my very great pleasure, learned that he was a German by birth. I at once began talking with him and found that he was the kindest little old man, had lived for many years in Königsberg itself and had a fair amount of sense, so that I could sometimes converse with him for a whole hour or more without being bored. I asked him about Königsberg, and he told me everything he knew. In short, I soon grew fond of this old man and quite often had him work in my little room so that I could talk with him about this and that. Moreover, he also became my teacher of the Latvian language; for since he understood that language perfectly, I would, out of curiosity, ask him what this or that was called in Latvian and write it down in a notebook.

It was in these innocent and solitary occupations that I passed my time. But since the shortage of the most necessary provisions, or what we call our store, which had all been used up during the march, reminded me that I must think of laying in a new supply; and since, moreover, I had neither a big fur coat nor a decent sheepskin for everyday wear, nor many other things, I decided for all these reasons to send one of my servants to my estate, both to bring me this store and to buy in Moscow all the necessary things I lacked, as well as money, of which I was also in great need — and my Yakov had to set off on this long journey on a little horse.

Soon afterwards a certain change took place in our company. My lieutenant was promoted to captain, and in his place I received another commander, namely Lieutenant Mikhail Yemelyanovich Nepeytsyn. And as this man was more sensible and of incomparably better qualities and character than Mr. Korzhavin had been, an exceptional friendship very soon sprang up between us. He took an extraordinary liking to me, and as he had then come straight from Poland, where he had been procuring provisions and thereby had the chance to line his pockets and bring back with him both money and everything else in plenty, he began urging me to move in with him at the outlying farm, and gave me no peace until I agreed. Having grown used to my hut, I at first did not much want to part with my dear solitude; but his entreaties, and, besides that, the shortage of provisions and the difficulty of obtaining them in the Courland villages, persuaded me at last to leave it and move in with him; and I can say that I had no reason to regret it.

The kindness he showed me, and his friendship, went so far that he would by no means allow me to buy any provisions on my own account, but kept me at his own expense, and we lived together like brothers and, I can say, quite merrily.

Our quarters were rather good; there was enough to eat and drink, and passing the time in conversation with him was never dull; and, besides, I was free to pursue my own occupations as much as I liked. In short, I was entirely content with this companion and, living with him, never noticed how both the remaining months of that year slipped by.

For all that, I was not fated to live long with this amiable man. Before the end of the year yet another change befell me. Our colonel for some reason took it into his head to transfer me from my former company to the grenadier company, and I was obliged, against my wishes, to leave my former companion and move to the new company and to a third lodging. Yet fortune served me in this case too. The captain of this company happened to be a very good and sensible man, educated in the Cadet Corps, knowing French and German, and regarded throughout our regiment as the best and most sensible captain. His name was Ivan Nikitich, and his surname was Gnevushev. This man had served in our regiment as far back as the days of my late father and had been loved by him for his merits. Therefore he had known me since childhood and, I can say, had loved me since that time. Later I learned that it was at his solicitation that I had been transferred to his company; for when a sub-lieutenant's vacancy fell open in his company, he, knowing my abilities, begged the colonel for me. But since this had been done against my will and wish, he would not let me stay in a Latvian cottage and suffer want and discomfort, but in the same way persuaded me to take quarters together with him, to which I readily agreed, and I can say that I was no less pleased with his company and friendship than with Mr. Nepeytsyn's.

Now, pausing at this point for a while, let us turn for an hour to other matters and see what was happening elsewhere at this time.

While we were returning from Prussia in the manner described and then standing quietly in quarters in Samogitia and Courland, in Europe, by contrast, the war continued to blaze in all its fury. For the King of Prussia the rest of that summer, and especially the autumn, turned out exceptionally fortunate. The unpardonable blunder committed by us, and at almost the very same time by the French Marshal Richelieu, served, as it were, as a signal for all his troubled circumstances to change for the very best.

By both these events, so very favourable to him, he was, as it were, heartened and began to think how he might deal with his other enemies, and above all with the so-called Imperial Army, that is, the one gathered from the various small principalities of the Empire.

This army had assembled at Nuremberg at the beginning of spring, up to 20,000 men from various places, until, having joined in August with the French army under the command of the Prince de Soubise, it entered Saxony and marched to attack the King of Prussia. On another side the Austrians pressed him. Their skilful commander, Count Daun, following on the heels of the Prussian troops, put such great obstacles in their way everywhere and caused them so much trouble that they lost a great many troops, baggage trains, pontoons and even magazines, and at last did not know what to do. On a third side the Swedes had already crossed the Prussian borders from the direction of Pomerania, and on a fourth, as has been mentioned, we had entered Prussia. In this extremity, hard-pressed on all sides, the King resolved, almost out of despair, to grapple and fight the Austrians once more, and indeed went to attack them; but finding their field marshal standing with his army in so advantageous and impregnable a position that it could not be done without manifest danger, he spent almost a whole day merely exchanging cannon fire with him and, having vainly tried every means of getting at him, was obliged to withdraw without having achieved anything and fall back towards Saxony.

There, having dispatched a considerable corps to Silesia to cover the borders and the town of Schweidnitz, he himself began to think how he might slip away from the far-sighted Count Daun and go to meet and defeat the Imperial Army. It was this army that caused him more worry and anxiety than any other; for by its mere advance it could take all of Saxony from him and push on as far as Magdeburg, and put that city in the same danger in which Berlin stood from the Swedes. To carry out this undertaking the King had to employ all his cunning and skill, and he succeeded in doing so in the most desirable manner. Having detached a considerable part of his forces from the main army, he went off so secretly that Daun could not find out about it for a long time.

Meanwhile the main army he had left behind under the command of the Prince of Bevern, to whom the famous and skilful General Winterfeld, on whom the King relied most of all, had been attached as an aide, was obliged to suffer much harm and trouble from the Austrians. The said General Winterfeld took up position with a detached force at some distance from the main army. The Austrian field marshal Count Daun, having joined the Prince of Lorraine, came and encamped opposite the Prussians, and the Austrian general Nádasdy attacked General Winterfeld's corps and not only routed it, killing some 1,500 Prussians, but dealt them a most painful blow through the death of General Winterfeld himself, who was mortally wounded in that action. Without him the Prince of Bevern was, as it were, at a loss, and, forgetting about covering the Silesian borders, marched into the interior of Silesia towards Liegnitz; and, worse still, he weakened his army by sending up to 15 thousand men to various fortresses, and thereby rendered himself unable to resist the Austrian army, which, following on his heels and harming him everywhere, drove him all the way to Breslau and forced him to lay bare the whole of Silesia and leave it almost as a prey, at the mercy of the Austrians, of which the Austrians did not fail to take advantage. Their general Nádasdy at once surrounded their famous fortress of Schweidnitz and made every preparation for a siege, while another general, Hadik, with a small corps of light troops, marched straight on Berlin, which lay exposed and without any defence, and forced that capital city to pay him no small contribution, and the Queen, with the whole court, to flee and withdraw to Spandau.

But this possession of the Prussian capital lasted no more than a single day, and that memorable day was the 5th of October.

While all this was going on, and the Austrians were lording it in Silesia and in Brandenburg itself in the manner described, the King of Prussia himself was, as mentioned above, on the march against the Imperial Army joined with the French, which, having entered Saxony, had already spread out around Leipzig and was marching straight on Magdeburg and Berlin; the King managed at once to halt it with his detachments. He marched on Erfurt and, having forced the allies to leave it, took possession of that city. Here he was obliged to stand a long time and send out detached corps in all directions to cover Magdeburg, Leipzig and Berlin, while waging a petty war with the enemy, which went on almost until November. Both armies busied themselves with marches and countermarches, and only their various detached forces fought one another, with varying success.

At last, on the 24th of October, it came to a decisive battle not far from Leipzig, at the village of Rossbach, and the King of Prussia, despite the small numbers of his army and the incomparable superiority of the allied Imperial Army under the command of the generalissimo, the Prince of Hildburghausen, and Soubise, had the good fortune to smash the latter to pieces in a wondrous and almost incredible manner. A ruse of war, skilfully employed, helped him accomplish this great and glorious deed. He pretended to be afraid of the Imperial Army and to be retreating towards Merseburg. The Imperials and the French, ascribing this to his cowardice, considered victory certain and almost half won, and chased after him without much caution — but suddenly they fell, as it were, into an ambush and found the King standing in the best order and ready for battle. A whole half of his army was hidden behind a hillock, and the tents standing on it concealed it from the enemy's eyes. But when the tents were suddenly struck, it came into view, and its appearance threw the enemy into great confusion, which the King at once exploited: boldly attacking their cavalry with his own, he threw it into disorder and put it to flight, and the whole infantry followed it.

This glorious battle did not last long, but it was very bloody. Although the allied army numbered 60 thousand men and the Prussian no more than 30, the former was so beaten and thrown into such disarray and disorder that no more than 2,000 men remained on the battlefield. It lost more than 10,000 men, and the Prussians took up to 7,000 prisoners, among them 11 generals and 250 officers, and moreover captured 63 cannon, 15 standards and 7 colours. In a word, the victory won by the King of Prussia was complete and glorious. Having invited the captured officers to supper, he begged them not to take offence that there were few dishes and that he was entertaining them so poorly, for he had by no means expected to have so many guests that evening.

This victory, moreover, had important consequences. The King of Prussia thereby gained his freedom and could fly to the aid of his hard-pressed Silesia and the Prince of Bevern.

The Hanoverians took courage again and, breaking their convention, began to fight once more. The French were taken aback, and the Austrians themselves fell into confusion and a kind of faint-heartedness.

For all that, however much the King hurried to the aid of the Prince of Bevern, who stood entrenched near Breslau, he did not manage to arrive in time. The Austrians, hearing of his victory at Rossbach and that he was coming, managed before his arrival to attack the Prince of Bevern in his entrenchments, and, despite all the difficulties and a brave defence, on the 13th of November they drove the Prussians out of them, and then took the Prince of Bevern himself prisoner and forced the Prussians to withdraw. This success had the consequence that on the same evening the city of Breslau surrendered on terms, and some time before that the fortress of Schweidnitz had surrendered to General Nádasdy, and the King had not managed to relieve that town either.

But all these successes and advantages gained by the Austrians, though they threw the King of Prussia into great disarray, did not last long. It pleased Providence to ordain that not they but the King of Prussia should reap the fruits of all the bloodshed and labours of that summer. Having been thrown into the greatest disorder by the said successes of the Austrians and having lost almost the whole of Silesia, he resolved to try his luck once more and fight the Austrians, in the hope of changing the whole state of affairs by a victory; and so, despite all the hardships of late autumn and the extreme exhaustion of his army, he went looking for the Austrians to give them battle. The Austrians, knowing how small his army was, were not only not frightened by this but even, in their contempt, laughed at it, calling it not an army but a Berlin changing of the guard. Yet their wise and cautious field marshal Daun thought quite otherwise and, not letting himself be blinded by this, took up a very advantageous position near Schweidnitz and would by no means go out to meet the enemy himself, but waited for the King to come and attack him. But as he was not the sole commander of the Austrian army, sharing command with the Prince of Lorraine, and the latter disagreed with him in his opinion and wished to go out to meet the King himself and give him battle, this disagreement led to a courier being sent to Vienna to ask what to do; and since the order came to go and give the enemy battle, the King of Prussia, who wished for nothing else, met them at Lissa and at the village of Leuthen and on the 24th of November fought them in a battle so bloody and so successful that the Austrians were utterly defeated and lost in this action 301 officers and 21,000 men, 134 cannon and 59 colours. But even this was not enough: the misfortune of the Austrians was destined to grow by the renewed loss of Breslau. The Prince of Lorraine, wishing to save that city, did send a considerable corps with numerous artillery into it, but this served only to increase the loss; for the King of Prussia, losing no time, laid siege to it and, despite all the severity of the weather and the difficulties, took it.

This loss of Breslau cost the Austrians 13 generals, 680 officers and 17,000 rank and file.

Thus that year's campaign ended with great loss and detriment to the Austrians. All their labours, battles, losses and the advantages they had gained brought them not the slightest benefit. They were obliged to withdraw into Bohemia and leave the whole of Silesia once again in the power of the Prussians. Only the town of Schweidnitz remained in their hands; but that was a very small gain. In a word, the Prussians succeeded, against all expectation and to the astonishment of all Europe, in ending this campaign with great advantage to themselves; for their field marshal Lehwaldt, having returned from Prussia and got rid of us, even managed to drive the Swedes out of the Prussian borders with losses.

There you have a brief picture of the events then taking place in Europe with which the year 1757 ended; so allow me, too, to end my present letter at this point and to tell you that I am your faithful friend, and so on.

THE TAKING OF KÖNIGSBERG

Letter 54

Dear friend! While, in the manner described above, in the very depths of the autumn of 1757, the war raged most ferociously in the Prussian, Austrian and Saxon lands, and whole tens of thousands of people lost their lives and still more were taken prisoner, while the fields were drenched in human blood and a countless multitude of poor country folk lost their homes and all their property, and still more suffered under the burden of levies and the seizure of all the provisions and fodder they had laid in for their own sustenance, — we were resting from our labours in Poland and Courland and spent all that autumn and the beginning of winter in peace, quiet and the most delightful repose. Knowing nothing of all these events, we lived there in our comfortable quarters and did nothing but make merry.

But however untroubled we were, our government was all the more troubled by the poor results of our first campaign. The Empress who then ruled over us was extremely displeased with the unexpected and shameful return of our army from Prussia and with all the conduct of our field marshal Apraksin; and although, to cover up the shame, it was proclaimed that this return of our army had taken place by order of the Empress herself, supposedly because, as the Austrians had already entered Silesia themselves, there was no need for us to go further and continue our march as far as Silesia, and that, moreover, the troops were needed in their own fatherland on account of the Empress's illness, — yet everyone knew that this had been announced merely for appearance's sake, and in reality all knew that he had done it of his own accord.

And it was this very thing that brought the Empress's wrath upon him, so that no sooner had he returned to Courland than he was recalled to Petersburg to give an account of his conduct.

This return journey to the capital was most calamitous and unhappy for this commander. Stripped of all his former splendour, he was obliged to travel disgraced in the eyes of all, almost on the quiet, and the rumours of the misfortunes awaiting him in Petersburg so troubled him that he fell ill on the road and was brought to Narva already sick. But even this was not enough. Misfortune met him in that very town, for an order was sent that he was not to be admitted even to Petersburg, but was to be arrested there and investigated by a commission specially set up for the purpose. And this so struck the poor man that within a few days he lost his life, which no one regretted except his relatives and clients alone, for otherwise the whole state was displeased with him.

Thus perished this man, who only a short time before had been so eminent and splendid a grandee, punished by fate itself for his perfidy towards the fatherland and for an act that brought great misfortune upon so many people.

Meanwhile command of the army remaining in Courland and Poland was entrusted to General-in-Chief Count Fermor. And as this general was known to all as a very sensible and zealous man, the whole army was extraordinarily pleased with this change. And he did not fail at once to justify this good opinion of him by his efforts and sensible new arrangements.

This general's first and foremost concern was how to supply the whole army with everything it needed, and then to take possession of the entire Kingdom of Prussia as quickly as possible, and thereby, on the one hand, to correct the blunder committed by Count Apraksin and, on the other, to fulfil the wish of our court and of the Empress. For when, in the meantime, news was received that the King of Prussia had stripped his whole Prussian kingdom of troops, having used them, as mentioned above, to drive the Swedes out of Pomerania, orders were given to make all possible haste so as not to give him time to bring his army back there, and, taking advantage of this opportunity, to occupy and take possession of the entire Kingdom of Prussia without much bloodshed.

Accordingly, no sooner had this general taken command and received the said order than he began making all the necessary preparations for entering Prussia. And since it had been decided to do this without waiting for spring, while it was still winter, he waited with the greatest impatience until the sea, or rather that narrow gulf of the sea known as the Curonian Lagoon {Kurisches Haff.} — which, separated from the sea by a narrow, long strip of land, stretches from Memel all the way to the little town of Labiau — should be covered with ice thick enough for the troops with all the necessary artillery to march across it by the straightest and shortest route to Königsberg.

His impatience was so great that every day ice was brought to him from there so that he could judge from its thickness whether it could bear the weight of the artillery.

But since this did not happen until the very end of 1757, the very beginning of the following year, 1758, became memorable for the return of our troops into the Kingdom of Prussia. As early as the last days of the year just past, Count Fermor had moved from Libau to Memel, and there, having made ready and assembled a small corps and taken the necessary amount of artillery, on the 5th of January he set out across the lagoon straight for Königsberg, ordering another corps, under the command of Major General Count Rumyantsev, to enter Prussia at the same time from the side of Poland and take possession of the town of Tilsit.

The success of this undertaking and march was most gratifying. Count Fermor's troops reached the island of Russ across the ice that same day without much difficulty and took possession of the Amt located there {German for "office", the seat of administration; here in the sense of fortifications.}, while the troops entering from the side of Poland took Tilsit without any resistance, where Count Rumyantsev, hearing that there was still a small Prussian garrison in the town of Gumbinnen, sent troops to capture it, but they no longer found it there, for, hearing of our approach, it had seen fit to withdraw in good time. And so our men entered all the small towns and towns without any resistance and everywhere swore the inhabitants to subjection and allegiance to our Empress.

At last Count Fermor, having united all five columns of troops that had entered Prussia from different directions under the command of Lieutenant Generals Saltykov, Rezanov and Count Rumyantsev and Major Generals Prince Lubomirski and Leontyev, marched straight on, without rest days, to the town of Labiau and, arriving there on the 9th, found that the local authorities had already received an order from the Königsberg government that, should our troops enter, we were to be given everything we might require, without any resistance, and that all of Count Fermor's orders were to be obeyed.

From this place the general sent Colonel Yakovlev with 400 grenadiers and 8 cannon, and 9 squadrons of cavalry under the command of Brigadier Demiku, and 3 hussar regiments and the Chuguyev Cossacks under the command of Brigadier Stoyanov straight to Königsberg. And as in the meantime deputies also arrived, sent by the Königsberg government with a petition from the whole city and kingdom that it be taken under the Empress's protection and left in possession of its privileges, he, having assured them of the monarch's favour, himself set out after the said vanguard for the said capital city.

And so the 11th day of January was the day on which our troops entered Königsberg, and soon after them the commander-in-chief himself arrived there.

His entry into the city was splendid and magnificent. All the streets, windows and roofs of the houses were thronged with countless crowds of people. The concourse was immense, for everyone was greedy {Eagerly striving.} to see our troops and the commander himself; and as this was joined by the ringing of bells throughout the city and the playing of trumpets and kettledrums on all the towers and belfries, which lasted the whole time of the procession, all this lent it still more splendour and magnificence.

The Count took up residence in the royal castle, in the very apartments where Field Marshal Lehwaldt had stayed before {He had been left by Frederick II to defend East Prussia and was the first to attack the Russian army at Gross-Jägersdorf, but was defeated.}, and there he was met by all the members of the Königsberg government, as well as by the nobility, the most eminent clergy, the merchants and the other leading people of the city. All offered him their congratulations and, submitting to the Empress's protection, begged him to maintain good discipline, which he promised them.

On the following day solemn thanksgiving was offered to the Almighty, and the commander-in-chief, having sent Count Bruce to Petersburg with a report on this happy event, regaled the whole generalty and all the leading people at his dinner table {Treated them, entertained them to dinner.}, and the next morning the whole city was sworn in, and the government of the entire Kingdom of Prussia passed into our hands.

No sooner had Count Fermor taken possession of the city of Königsberg in the said manner and got all the authorities into his power than his very first concern was to distribute the troops that had entered Prussia into winter quarters and to have them occupy all the most important places both throughout the Kingdom of Prussia and in Polish Prussia. So he ordered some to take up quarters around Königsberg, others to go and occupy the coastal fortress of Pillau, and others still to advance further and occupy all places as far as the Vistula River, and with them the Polish free cities of Elbing and Marienburg. These latter, though they had no great wish to let our troops in, were obliged to consent, since they were promised every friendliness. In Königsberg the Fourth Grenadier Regiment and also the Troitsky Infantry Regiment were brought in as the garrison, Brigadier Treyden was appointed commandant, and the courts were entrusted to Colonel Yakovlev, for the Count himself intended to move on and set up his headquarters on the Vistula, in the Prussian town of Marienwerder. As for the regiments that had remained in Courland and Samogitia under the command of General Browne and Prince Golitsyn, they too were ordered to enter Prussia and, passing through it, to occupy the upper part of Polish Prussia with the towns of Kulm, Graudenz and Toruń, and thereby to form a cordon along the whole Vistula River.

As our Archangelgorod Regiment happened to be among these regiments remaining in Courland, we had no part in this winter campaign, but stood quietly in our quarters the whole time and learned of all the above only after our troops had entered Königsberg and an order came that we too should proceed there. I cannot describe adequately what joy this news produced in all of us.

We all rejoiced and made merry at it just as if each of us had been given a present and had had a share of our own in this conquest.

Never did we prepare for a march with such eagerness and pleasure as at that time, and never was such zeal and haste shown by everyone in the packing and preparations as on that occasion.

We were ordered to set out on the march without the slightest delay, and our route was laid straight through Poland, or rather a considerable part of the Lithuanian province of Samogitia, and then along the whole length of the Kingdom of Prussia, straight to the Polish free city of Toruń, standing on the banks of the Vistula River at the farthest edge of Polish Prussia. So, although we could not flatter ourselves with the hope of seeing the Prussian capital Königsberg, which remained far off to our right, we were at least content that we would see the whole Kingdom of Prussia.

For all that, however much we rejoiced at this swift and unexpected setting-out and march into Prussia, the circumstance that it was then the very middle of winter and that everyone had to provide himself with sledges gave us much to worry about. But none of all our brother officers was so worried then as I, and there was good reason for it. All the officers had a sufficient number of horses to pull their wagons and on which they themselves could ride in small sledges, for riding on horseback was unsuitable in winter; but I had only two horses, and a third, for a separate small sledge, I did not have. On that third horse, as mentioned above, I had sent my other servant to my estate beyond Moscow, and this man had not yet returned to me. So not only did I lack a third horse and my other servant, but besides that I was in extreme need and want of everything else: I had no small sledge like the others, no big fur coat, no decent sheepskin, nor any other necessary clothing, nor stores and provisions, so necessary for a march, and, worst of all — no money either. For several days already I had been expecting all of this from one day to the next; and when the march was announced to us, my expectation was combined with the greatest impatience, for by my reckoning he ought to have been back long since. Yet however long I waited for my Yakov, however often I looked out of the windows to see whether he was coming, however many times I sent someone out to look whether he could be seen riding in the distance, — all our waiting and watching was in vain: my Yakov was nowhere to be seen, and I did not know what to think of him at last. All the preparations for the march had been made; the day of departure had been fixed; that day had begun to draw near, — but my Yakov did not come, and there was neither sight nor sound of him, nor any word at all. Lord, what grief was upon me then, and with what confusion and anxiety my whole spirit was troubled! All I did was pace back and forth in the room, saying to myself:

"Lord! What a strange thing, that he is so long in coming! He ought to have been here long ago. What has he done to me now, and what am I to do now?.."

What troubled me most of all was that, in the confident hope that he would soon return and bring me everything I needed, I had laid in nothing and bought nothing I needed. To make matters worse, I had no money then either, for, being short of it after returning from the campaign, my pay had already been drawn in advance and spent. But I could still have got money to buy a horse and a sledge, which I needed most of all, had not the aforesaid hope of my servant's speedy return, whom I expected from hour to hour, lured me on.

But at last the day came that I dreaded as if it were some bear, that is, the day of our setting out on the march. And as my Yakov had still not come, I did not know what to do and was almost beside myself with confusion. My wagon with the baggage I had, it is true, put fully in order and it was ready, but how I myself was to manage — that at first I could by no means think up or guess. Having no horse of my own and no sledge, nothing else remained but to go on foot together with the soldiers. But could one even think of that, when I knew that even the very poorest officers had horses of their own and each had his own sledge, and that I would thereby expose myself to shame and ridicule from the whole regiment? In this extremity it already crossed my mind to do what I had never done before, namely to pretend on purpose to be ill, so that, on the pretext of illness, I might ride in a kibitka with the baggage train. But I found this impracticable, because my kibitka was crammed full with all sorts of odds and ends and there was no room for me in it. In short, I was then in such a state as I had never been in my life; and truly I do not know what would have become of me had not my captain at last brought me out of my confusion and calmed me somewhat.

He, seeing my extreme confusion and disordered thoughts, having witnessed all my impatient waiting and knowing the reason why I had not bought a horse and sledge, asked me at last what I intended to do about myself.

— Ah, my dear sir! — I answered this question. — Truly, I don't know myself what to do. I shall almost have to go on foot until I find a horse and sledge to buy.

— Come now! — he answered me. — Why go on foot, brother, what an idea! Better let us ride together in my sledge. Though it's a bit cramped, we'll squeeze in somehow. At least for the time being and until you happen to buy a horse, and meanwhile perhaps your man will turn up too.

I cannot describe how greatly he comforted and gladdened me with this offer. Although, for appearance's sake, I made scruples and said that I would crowd and inconvenience him, in reality I was so glad of this chance that, had it been possible, I would have kissed him for it.

So it was settled between us that we would ride together; but no sooner had we, somehow and with great difficulty, reached headquarters and set out from there on the march with the whole regiment, than I found among my brother officers not only plenty of roomier seats but even several sledges running empty and idle. For as during this march we had not the slightest reason to fear the enemy, we went as though in our own fatherland or in a friendly country, carelessly, so to speak, and enjoying all the comforts one can have in peacetime. The regiment was usually led only by the officers on turn of duty, while all the other officers rode wherever they liked; and this was the reason that they, to shorten the road and pass the time more pleasantly, joined together in various little groups and companies and not only rode in a band on many sledges together, but also sat in one another's sledges for jokes and conversation,, leaving their own to run empty; and as they were all my friends and comrades, I could sit with any of them I liked and ride as long as I pleased.

In this way, hopping from one sledge to another and sitting now with this officer, now with that, I got through my whole first day's march safely, and I managed to contrive all this so skilfully and well that it never even entered the head of any of the officers that I had no sledge of my own and was doing this out of necessity. But despite all this success, I was extremely uneasy in my mind the whole way and kept watching lest anyone discover my secret and lest I be obliged to endure great shame and mockery from everyone.

But be that as it may, we arrived and settled down for the night in a small town lying already on the Lithuanian border, having made a long march that day. Here I got a fine and comfortable lodging, but all its beauty did not charm me, for my mind was on something else. I worried incessantly about my journey and kept saying and repeating to myself in my thoughts:

"Well, all right! Today I managed to scrape through somehow, but what about tomorrow? With whom shall I ride and whom shall I latch on to? What if they guess and find out, what then?"

Such reflections threw my thoughts into such disarray that I was, as it were, in hypochondria {A disposition to brooding and gloomy thoughts; black melancholy.} and so deep in thought that I could not even think of food. But imagine, dear friend, what a change must have come over me when at that very moment my boy ran in to me almost out of his wits and said breathlessly:

— Do you know, master? Our Yakov has come!..

— What are you saying! — I cried, jumping up from the table and forgetting my food. — Is it really true, Abramushka?

— Upon my word, sir, he has only just driven into the yard, and what a fine sledge he has!

In a single moment I was out on the porch and, for joy, did not know what to say, but only crossed myself and kept repeating:

— Well, thank God!

But my joy grew still greater when I heard from my Yakov that he had brought me not only a great quantity of stores of every kind but had also got me everything, absolutely everything, I most needed. He had brought me a splendid sheepskin, a big fox-fur coat, a new saddle and a great many other things; and, most pleasing of all to me, a great many jams and sweetmeats of every kind sent to me by my sister, whom he had visited on the way and who was then living with my brother-in-law on their estate, for he had been released by the colonel at the very beginning of winter and had afterwards found a way to get out of the service altogether into retirement. But what made my joy still more complete was his news that he had brought with him more than a hundred roubles in money besides. My God, how I rejoiced at this last! Truly, I do not remember ever having been so overjoyed as I was then. I was almost beside myself and did not walk but leapt about the room for joy, repeating nothing but:

— Well, thank God, now I have everything, plenty of everything: horses, and stores, and clothes, and money, and everything, absolutely everything! Now I'm ready to go anywhere, and I need be ashamed before no one.

In a word, I then imagined myself unspeakably rich and the happiest man in the world, and a thousand times I thanked first God and then my servant Yakov for the faithful execution of the commission given him. And indeed, that day was memorable in my life in that, as great as the grief I felt at its beginning, so great, on the contrary, was the joy that filled my heart at its end.

With this I shall end my present letter and, saying that I am your sincere friend, I remain, and so on.

OUR SECOND MARCH INTO PRUSSIA

Letter 55

Dear friend! My joy at my servant's arrival and my impatient desire to see what he had brought with him were so great that I scarcely gave him time to unharness the horses properly and put things away, but ordered the load to be untied at once and everything he had brought carried in to me. The pleasure of untying and examining it all was extraordinary; and I can by no means describe what I felt when he handed me the light lambskin coat he had brought, covered with green nankeen. In a single moment I threw off my old, nasty, wretched sheepskin and put on this new one. And what do you think! How delightful it seemed to me then! Soft, and light, and warm, and handsome — it had every quality and merit. To try out the tea and sugar he had brought, my Abram had to run at once and boil water in the new kettle, and that tea seemed to me then tastier than any tea in the world, and I could not praise it enough. And seeing a great quantity of ham, I at once had a whole leg of it boiled; and as I had always been a great lover of it, and had not tasted it for several months, I cannot describe how sweet and delicious that evening's supper seemed to me. When it was over, the jams he had brought had to serve me as dessert. I tasted every one of them, however many there were, and each seemed to me some unspeakably precious confection. In a word, I then had my fill of everything, absolutely everything, and was so pleased with it all that I desired nothing more.

That is what want, endured for some time, leads to, and what great value it lends even to the most trifling things!

And so, the next morning, I already had the pleasure of riding in my own sledge, which, it is true, was not a Finnish one but a simple country sledge, but I no longer cared about that; it was enough that it was a new sledge with curved runners, and that I was dressed warmly and as was proper, and not only had I no cause for shame before anyone, but I even had a great advantage over many. In short, the sudden abundance of everything produced a great change in my whole person. I somehow conceived a loftier opinion of myself and began to treat all those who were above me in rank more familiarly and freely; and they all, having learned that a good deal of everything had been brought to me and that the young fellow had money too, began to treat me somehow more kindly and, as it were, to try to seek my friendship and goodwill. They began to invite me more often into their company, to ask me to spend time with them and take part in their amusements, and so on and so forth, all of which, although it flattered my vanity, later had consequences not at all advantageous to me, as will appear later.

Our march, as mentioned above, led through Poland and straight to the Prussian town of Gumbinnen. And since we went without hurrying and always took a rest day every two days, and moreover always got good and comfortable quarters in the Polish small towns, villages and hamlets, we felt almost no hardship, and our whole progress could be reckoned more an unbroken round of amusement than a march. Every day several of us would gather together and, riding in a string one after another, hardly passed a single tavern standing by the road without stopping in and spending a few minutes in laughter, games and jokes. And as soon as we arrived in some small town and settled into quarters, then, especially on rest days, there would begin among us strolling over to visit one another, and then together, if there was one, to the taverns, and card games would begin, and treating one another to tea, punch, wine and the rest. In a word, throughout this march we passed our time very merrily, and the fine and very mild winter weather then prevailing helped a great deal.

Moreover, during this march I had occasion to see a good deal of the whole way of life of the Poles living in that part of Lithuania, or the Lithuanian province known by the name of Žemaitija or Samogitia, through which we were then passing. It seemed to me fairly good, though not exceedingly so. The villages themselves were not much better than our Russian ones, and the small towns or little towns were not very enviable and far from as good as in other parts of Poland, the reason for which may have been that this corner of the Polish state was much poorer than other places. But be that as it may, there were plenty of objects that at once attracted our curious gaze as soon as we entered the Lithuanian borders.

The little shrines standing not far before the entrance to every village showed us at once that we were already in Catholic lands.

These little shrines are made there almost like those our peasants here and there put up by the roads to hold icons: on a single post and with a little roof; the only difference is that their posts are tall, not low like ours, and under the little roof it is not icons that are placed but always a carved crucifix. Although the Catholics disfigure it in the silliest way by attaching a curtain at the waist, so that every such crucifix looks for all the world as if it were wearing a little skirt, which to anyone unaccustomed to seeing it looks very bad and not at all fitting, yet what is at least good, and what I liked very much, is that no Catholic, and especially no inhabitant of that village or hamlet, ever passes such a post without stopping before the crucifix, kneeling and raising his hands, to say a short prayer.

As for the interiors of the houses, we found in them a great many images of saints, but not painted on boards, as with us, but all printed on paper and coloured with various paints. With these pictures the whole front corner is plastered in every house, and the Catholics pay them all exactly the same veneration as we do our icons.

Besides this, during this journey we more than once had occasion, out of curiosity, to visit Jewish synagogues, or houses where they are instructed in the word of God, read the Holy Scriptures and offer their prayers — in place of a temple, and which in the Holy Scriptures are referred to as assemblies or schools. In these we found no adornments, apart from a few benches for sitting and one raised place in the middle of the building, made in the likeness of an ambo and surrounded by a little railing, for reading the Holy Scriptures from it; and so they bore no resemblance to a church, nor are they regarded as such.

But while these sights, by their novelty, were able to amuse us somewhat, we by contrast did not like certain other objects that began to meet our eyes as soon as we entered Poland. These were gallows standing here and there not far from the road with hanged people hanging on them. Nowhere, I think, are so many people hanged as in Poland. For a small theft or larceny the thief must already go to the gallows, and not only every town authority and government may execute him in this way, but even the nobles themselves. A custom truly very strange and vile, and, most surprising of all, one that falls far short of the purpose for which it came into use; for, despite all the severity of this punishment for theft, thieves never died out in the state, and there were still a great many of them.

But be that as it may, we, being unaccustomed to it, could by no means look without an inward shudder and revulsion at these gallows, especially with people who had been hanged on them long ago and were swaying in the wind.

Further, I well remember the salty Polish fish soups; for when, on the fast days that occurred, we took it into our heads to have the hosts of our quarters cook us fish soup from fresh fish, we soon saw that their fish soups were no good for us at all, for they are in the habit of salting it so heavily and seasoning it with so much onion and pepper that we could not possibly eat it, and more than once we had cause to regret having entrusted them with this task.

That is all I happened to note at that time during our march through Poland; and now I shall tell you, dear friend, of something else that concerns me more closely. I have already mentioned to you that, on this march, we sought out and employed every kind of amusement and entertainment with which to drive away the boredom usually attending such a slow march. Of these amusements the chief one could be reckoned card playing, as the most usual pastime among officers. Although I had never had any inclination or liking for this kind of amusement, yet at that time our gentlemen officers very nearly taught me this fine craft; for as they all knew that the young fellow had money then, a host of hangers-on and friends appeared, trying in every way to lure me into their nets and accustom me to gambling. What tricks did they not employ to that end! Yet with all their tricks and plots they could by no means make me keen on games of chance or accustom me to them, such as quintich and faro, which were then most in fashion. Nevertheless, I did not get away from them entirely; for when they saw that I would by no means be taken in on that side, they took it into their heads to attack me from another, weaker side. They had noticed that I had a certain liking for the game of ombre. This game, which I by no means properly understood, was not disagreeable to me, and I never grew tired of playing it; and that was enough. Certain fine fellows, and among others my captain himself, Mr. Gnevushev, at once took pains to make me passionately fond of it and brought me to the point where I played it with them almost every evening and spent several hours at this game. But I had to pay very dearly for this amusement. For however much they deliberately praised me, saying that I played well, and attentively, and skilfully, and however much, to whet my appetite still more, they deliberately tried to lose to me sometimes, especially at first, I always ended up the loser in the end. These losses, though small at first, gradually began to grow, and at last it came to the point that not an evening passed in which I did not lose two or three roubles; this began at last to make itself felt and prompted me one day to reckon up how much I had already lost playing in this way at various times. I was horrified, and all my hair stood on end when I saw that the sum already exceeded forty roubles. — "Oh! Oh!" — I exclaimed then. — "How much I've already squandered!" — and I scratched behind my ears. — "If it goes on like this, all my money won't last long! A fine thing I've done, really... couldn't be better." — Having said this, I began to pace back and forth in my lodging, vexed with myself and scolding myself for my carelessness.

But as it was already too late, and all such repentance and vexation with myself were of no help, and the money was already lost, and lost irretrievably, then, regretting this self-inflicted loss, I began to curse both the game and all my liking for it.

"Confound it, the cursed thing!" I said to myself. "At this rate it will bring me to the point where I lose everything and am left high and dry again, God be with all the fun and pleasure of it. Isn't it better to do without it and keep my money — I dare say it will be healthier for my belly."

In a word, I grew so sorry for the money I had lost that I resolved from then on never to play again, and began to think how I might more decently get rid of my comrades and excuse myself from continuing to play. But, happily, fate itself helped me in this, for at that very time I was sent ahead of the regiment into Prussia to receive provisions for the regiment in the town of Gumbinnen, and this occasion of itself drew me away from them and from all their gaming. I cannot describe adequately how they regretted my departure and how much they lamented that our ombre would be cut short and that they would have no one to play with; but my mind was on something quite different now. I only laughed inwardly and said to myself: "Yes! It is a pity, to be sure, that you scoundrels did not manage to drag the last of my money out of my pocket."

In this way I left the regiment for a while, and set off on my journey that same day, and the next day I was already crossing the Prussian borders. Now I cannot describe adequately to you, dear friend, what a delightful change I saw in everything on entering the bounds of the Kingdom of Prussia. It so happened that all the places through which I had to travel to Gumbinnen had had the good fortune to escape our devastations of the year before; for as they had lain far off to one side of us, even our Cossacks had never reached them, and so everything was intact and everything in its former state. Besides, it must also be said that these places happened to be the very ones which only some thirty years before had been newly settled by the father of the then king with Bavarian inhabitants, or the so-called Salzburg emigrants, who, through the folly of the Catholics and solely for their Protestant profession of faith, had been driven out of their fatherland and forced to seek refuge in other states, and who had consequently been settled here in good order and with every advantage. What a great multitude of villages suddenly presented itself to my sight! Truly, the fields were, as it were, strewn with them! There was no spot from which one could not see up to ten villages round about. These villages were small, it is true, each having all its land around it, but what houses, what buildings and what order were to be seen everywhere! Truly, we could not admire them enough. Every peasant had a house such as many of our nobles do not have, especially the poor ones. All the other buildings matched their houses: everything was neat, snug, all thatched with sheaves and all in order.

As for the inhabitants themselves, I could not marvel enough at their kindness, obligingness and goodwill.

Everywhere I happened to feed my horses and spend the night, I was received and entertained just as if I were some relative, and I hardly needed to buy anything, for the hosts strove not only to feed and give me drink of the best they could find in the house, but also provided for my servants and horses free of charge. But, to tell the truth, it also helped me a great deal that I could speak German with them and treated them kindly and pleasantly myself. In a word, this short journey was not only not tedious to me but so pleasant that to this day I cannot forget it.

At last I arrived in the town to which I had been sent ahead and where I had never happened to be before. Here my pleasure grew still greater when I found that this little town too was built entirely in good order and to a plan; for as it too had been founded only some thirty years before, then, although there were no very rich and magnificent houses in it, order reigned everywhere and cleanliness and neatness were to be seen on all sides. The streets everywhere were wide and straight; the squares at the crossroads spacious, and the houses, though for the most part not large, were handsome, snug, comfortable and mostly painted in various colours; and on the main square, in the middle of the town, there stood one huge and handsome stone building which housed their town hall and the other government offices, courts and tribunals. For one must know that the whole Kingdom of Prussia, for the more convenient collection of revenues, was divided into two halves, and in each half there was, for the collection and administration of these revenues, a separate Kammer, or, for example, a treasury chamber, one of which was in Königsberg and the other in this very town of Gumbinnen, and it sat in the said building. Moreover, this whole fine little town was full of craftsmen of every kind and trade, and may be reckoned the best of all the small Prussian towns.

I lived in it for more than a week, for, having carried out the commission entrusted to me, I had to wait for the regiment. But I spent this time without boredom. I had a fine lodging; my hosts were kind and strove not only to entertain me, but, noticing my love of books, supplied me with a great many of them.

This was better for me than any confections, and I then had occasion to see, leaf through and partly read and examine many German books, especially anatomical ones full of a great many drawings.

Besides this, during my stay in Gumbinnen at that time, I had occasion for the first time to see how silk stockings are woven; for as this factory was next door to me, I went there several times to watch this work and marvel at the ingenious construction of the loom, or instrument, used for it.

At last our regiment arrived too, and, having stayed two days in this town to receive provisions and bake bread, marched on. Our route led from this place through the Prussian small towns of Darkehmen, Nordenburg, Schippenbeil and Bartenstein, and this march was truly merry and pleasant. These places were good and abounded in everything. We stopped mostly in small towns and towns, which were already incomparably better than the Polish ones, and so we always got good and comfortable quarters; and as we found taverns in every small town, our first refuge was in them. There we usually gathered almost all together and amused ourselves with whatever each liked. But as for me, although my comrades tried to lure me back into their gang and resume our former ombre playing, I, under various pretexts, somehow got out of it and was not taken in, and was glad that I had managed to come to my senses and take care in good time.

Of all the above-mentioned Prussian small towns and towns, none are so memorable to me or so much to my liking as Schippenbeil and Bartenstein. Both lay on that same Alle River from which we had turned back the summer before. Both, though old and not built to a plan, were very decent, with handsome and snug little houses and good town halls, and the latter had an old ruined castle. In a word, all the places where we then stayed were fine and pleasant.

Having passed Bartenstein, we again entered Catholic lands. This was the Bishopric of Ermland, lying in the midst of the Kingdom of Prussia and then under Polish protection, but belonging to the Bishop of Ermland, who lived there and ruled it like a little appanage prince, for he was at the same time president of all Polish Prussia. His residence was in the town of Heilsberg, lying on the same Alle River and having a rather strong castle. And as we happened to pass through that very town and spend a rest day there, the ruler of this little land, the said bishop, did us the honour of inviting our colonel, with all the officers of his regiment, to dine with him and gave a splendid and magnificent feast in his palace, built in the middle of the castle.

Here I had occasion to see the way of life of the small German appanage princes, and at the same time of eminent Catholic clergymen.

It seemed to me rather good. He lived there like a little sovereign: he had a few soldiers who stood guard for him and kept the main guardhouse; he also had cannon and a small court establishment, such as chamberlains and gentlemen of the bedchamber; but all this in sheer miniature compared with great sovereigns. He entertained us rather magnificently, and when the health of our sovereign lady was drunk, cannon were fired. And after dinner he led us through all the apartments of his palace and into his court church, where he showed us his Catholic episcopal vestments and ornaments. Both the church and the vessels and ornaments in it were rather rich and magnificent, and he himself a very kind and affable man. But what seemed curious and in some measure comical to us was his little cap, worn by him as a sign of his spiritual and monastic calling. This little cap was black, it is true, but very small, no more than two vershoks wide and half a vershok high, and fastened, like a little skullcap, on his large powdered wig, at the crown towards the back, so that nothing of it could be seen from the front. His clothes were black, the outer garment long and rather stately.

Having spent almost two days in this rather decent little town, we moved on and marched for several more days through this bishopric, through undistinguished little towns also belonging to it, Guttstadt and Allenstein, and then entered Prussia again and marched through it for several days. During this time I once happened to receive fodder for the regiment in one Prussian little town, Osterode, where we had a rest day. On this occasion I could not marvel enough at the efficiency of the Prussian government, for in all the places where we were scheduled to march we found everything already prepared. Not only were provisions and fodder ready everywhere, but all kinds of necessary victuals had been brought in from round about for sale to the troops. As for the hay that I was to receive, I had no need to weigh it: it was all tied in bundles of ten pounds; so one had only to count them, and I could finish my commission in a short time and with little trouble.

Having spent several days marching through Prussia, we at last left it altogether and entered the bounds of so-called Polish Prussia, and that part of it where the towns of Kulm, Graudenz and Toruń lay. This land we found very different from Prussia: all the inhabitants were again Catholics and incomparably poorer and worse off than the Prussians.

As for the towns and small towns, they were rather decent, but far from as good as the Prussian ones.

We passed through three of them here, namely Neumark, Strasburg and Gollub. In the middle of each of them we found a square and rather spacious marketplace, surrounded by continuous and rather tall houses, partly of stone and partly half-stone, that is, built of wooden posts and beams joined together, with the gaps between them filled in with brick; there were a great many such buildings throughout Prussia as well. They call them Fachwerk, or brick-filled framework houses, and they are a middle kind of building between stone and wooden ones, and quite good and comely. In the very middle of the said squares there always stood the town hall, the finest building in the town. On the ground floor of the houses surrounding the square there were shops with various goods. It is further worth noting that in all these towns, both Prussian and Polish-Prussian, there were apothecaries' shops in which not so much medicines were sold as all sorts of vegetables and eatables.

Moreover, it must be said that the march, from our entry into Polish Prussia, became incomparably harder and worse for us than before, not only because the roads there were incomparably worse than in Prussia, but also because about this time the winter road had begun to break up and the spring floods were setting in, and the roads became so bad that one could travel on them neither by sledge nor by cart. So we had a great deal of trouble and were obliged to abandon our sledges and put our wagons on wheels, and ourselves, instead of sledges, to ride on saddle horses again.

As our march ran along the Drewenz River, and the ice on that river had already gone out, and we came to it every day, we took advantage of this and often amused ourselves with fishing, and we always had plenty of fish, which, it being then the season of Great Lent, came in very handy for us.

Moreover, as Holy Week and Good Friday of the Catholics happened to fall during the march itself, I, riding very early on that very morning past a Catholic church, had occasion to see everything that takes place in their churches on that day. Here I saw for the first time how they scourge themselves, that is, covering their heads so that no one should recognize them and baring their backs, they flog themselves with scourges or a special kind of whip, and perform this supposed service to God with such zeal and fervour, and such mercilessness towards themselves, that with some the blood even flowed from their backs in streams. But however repulsive this sight was to us, another custom prevailing among the Catholics seemed just as strange, namely: instead of the shroud of Christ that is carried out with us, they carry out a large carved crucifix and lay it on the floor of the church, and then all the women, especially the old ones, approach it, kneel down, and wail, weep and beat themselves over it, just as over a dead person, and drench it all with their tears; at all of which we could not gaze enough.

Because of the spring floods hindering our march and the terrible state of the roads, we were delayed so long that we spent our own Holy Week on the road as well.

We celebrated the day of our Easter in their small town of Gollub, and set up the regimental church specially for it. And this Holy Week was very cheerless for us, and we hardly noticed it, especially because, going from the said small town straight to Toruń, we had to march through the very foulest places and have quarters in the poorest of Polish villages, where the inhabitants themselves barely had their daily bread and lived in the most wretched condition.

But to no one was that time so tedious and vexing as to me. The reason for this was the circumstance that, because of the bad roads, the weight of my wagon and the lack of enough fodder for the horses, I had so worn out all my horses that they could barely pull my kibitka and at last came to a halt at almost every verst. But of all the days, none was so vexing to me as the very last of this march of ours, or the last stage to the town of Toruń. Since one of my horses would no longer pull the kibitka at all, I was obliged to give up my saddle horse and take this worn-out one myself. But this cursed beast so tormented me that day that I truly wished myself dead with it: the cursed thing would not go under the saddle either, or at least dragged along so that I could by no means keep up with my comrades. However much I lashed her with the whip, however much I kicked her, she was insensible and would not quicken her slow pace by a hair, but only stopped altogether still more often; and at last, when no more than some three versts were left to go, the wretched thing stopped dead and would not budge from the spot. "What are you up to? Ah, you cursed thing!" I said. "What have you done to me?..." I go "gee up! gee up!", but nothing doing! I am vexed, I am angry, I beat her, I scold, I curse, but she feels nothing and only looks at me. What is one to do? Nothing remained but to dismount, go on foot and lead her by the bridle. Though I had no wish to, I was obliged to do so and was glad at least that this helped somewhat. But this satisfaction did not last long either. Soon, very soon, it came to the point that she, the cursed thing, stopped even without a rider, and there was no shifting her from the spot. I pull her by the bridle, I fume, I rage, I go "gee up, gee up! gee up!", but she paid no heed to any of it and only blinked her eyes.

"Ah, you wretch!" I said. "What a trick you've played on me! What am I to do with you now?"

I was so furious with her that more than once I grabbed my sword, intending to run her through, the cursed beast; but the shortness of the road still remaining, the good nature of the horse herself and the hope that she would recover restrained me and kept me from it. All the same, my distress was then the very greatest, and I did not know what to start with her or what to do, and I was glad at least that no one saw this calamity and misfortune of mine, for, as the whole regiment with all its baggage had already gone far ahead, I was all alone in the open field, already within sight of the town of Toruń. But happily it occurred to me to let her rest. No sooner had I thought of it than, choosing a dry little hillock, I sat down on it and decided that, should anyone ask, I would say I had a bellyache; but happily no one asked me, and I had no need to lie and charge myself with an illness; and better still, a little later another thought came to me, namely, to feed her bread, a nice little crust of which I happened to have with me in my pouch, together with a piece of roast meat, such reserve provisions as we always carried with us. And so off I went feeding her bread and salting it so that she would eat more willingly, and was glad indeed that she ate. This, and the rest of some two hours given her, helped her so much that she was at last able to carry me somehow to the town. And as this town was then the goal of our march, and we, after a day's rest in it, were distributed in cantonment quarters round about it, I shall end this letter at this point, telling you that I am, and so on.

STATIONED AT TORUŃ

Letter 56

Dear friend! As much toil and trouble as we had endured at the end of our last march, so much did we rejoice on receiving, against all expectation and, as it were, as a reward for our labours, very fine quarters. Going through the above-mentioned bad and very poor places, and concluding beforehand that we would have to stay in equally foul and poor dwellings and quarters, we were already unspeakably vexed that we had been so badly deceived in our hope of staying in good Prussian quarters, and that we had not managed even to catch a glimpse of glorious Königsberg, which had for so long been the chief goal of our desires; and from this anyone can easily conclude how great our joy was when, against all our expectation, we found ourselves in the very finest quarters, which surpassed all our hopes and expectations. Yet it must also be said that not our whole regiment got to enjoy this good fortune, but almost only our grenadier companies; for as our headquarters itself was assigned to stay in the town of Toruń itself and its suburbs, the grenadier companies, as the foremost in the regiment, were quartered in the village nearest to the town, and this village happened to be the very best and of a special kind; it was called Gurske, lay no more than some five versts from the town and belonged to the so-called Żuławy; and as it deserves special notice, I shall say something about it in somewhat more detail.

Żuławy is the name given, around Danzig, Elbing and Marienburg as well as here, to all those settlements founded on the low-lying places along the Vistula River itself and its various branches.

It is a well-known fact that past Toruń flows the very great and broad Vistula River, which rises in the very heart of Poland and runs from that town past Kulm and Graudenz, and then, dividing into two branches, falls into the sea at Danzig.

This river had, in places on both sides and in places on one, the usual low-lying flood meadows, stretching from the water to the high and hilly banks beyond them over an uneven distance, here some two versts, there more, and elsewhere less. In ancient times these low-lying places were inundated by the river's usual spring floodwater and, from the silt brought and left upon them, had had time to grow so rich that they became the most fertile of lands; but for a long time they lay idle and produced nothing but grass; until at last, in time, by some chance, certain settlers from the Netherlandish and Dutch lands took it into their heads to settle in these places and to wrest them, so to speak, by force from the violence of the floods and make them yield the finest grain harvests.

This they accomplished by building, right along the riverbank and along its whole length, a continuous, enormous and very thick dyke, planted with willows or osiers, so high that no floodwater, however high it rose in the river, could reach its very top and pour over it; and they made the same dykes on both sides of all the small streams flowing into the Vistula from the side as well. And as all the said flood meadows were thereby made safe from the river's floods, they settled on them in a quite distinctive manner and in villages such as I have never seen anywhere else, namely:

Each village stretched for several versts in length, though it did not contain a considerable number of farmsteads, because each farmstead was some hundred and fifty sazhens or sometimes even more distant from the next. These gaps were taken up by their gardens and fields, for each peasant had all his land around his farmstead and lived, as it were, apart. All his ploughland and gardens were dug about with a multitude of ditches and canals; and as they had them close at hand both to plough and to manure, they produced such harvests as one could only marvel at.

As for the construction of their farmsteads themselves, it too was of a quite distinctive kind. All the peasant buildings are housed there in one long range and under a single roof, and so at first sight in such a village they seem not peasant farmsteads but enormous taverns scattered about here and there, or, for example, like our large drying barns and threshing sheds. At one end of these buildings was the owner's living quarters themselves. They usually consisted of three clean rooms: one of them was a large and neatly kept room, lit by three or four large red-framed windows and properly heated by a tiled or brick stove; the other two rooms were at the side, and smaller, and one of them served either as the owner's bedroom or as a storeroom, while in the other, nearer the stove, lived his farmhands and maids.

In front of these rooms was a spacious entrance hall with a partitioned-off space in the middle for the hearth and kitchen; and from there both stoves in the rooms are also fired.

Moreover, there were three exits from this entrance hall: one onto the front porch, another to the other side, into his gardens and kitchen gardens, and the third straight into his stable, which adjoined his entrance hall closely, and where in the stalls stood not only his horses but also his cows in the best of order. After this stable came other sheds and rooms for sheep and other small livestock, and after these a spacious compartment for keeping his carts and loads and all the harness, and further on the grain barns, and finally the range was closed by a spacious compartment intended for storing unthreshed grain, which at the same time served him as a threshing shed, for here they usually store and thresh the grain. All these various compartments were of the same height and all covered by one proper roof; and as in such a long range, sometimes stretching twenty sazhens or more in length, the local peasant can house himself with all his needs, they mostly have no other buildings under separate roofs apart from this range, and his whole farmstead consists of this single range.

For all that, they live very richly and in such abundance as some poor nobles among us do not. Their living rooms are kept clean, even to the point that many have wall clocks; and chairs, and proper tables and cupboards, were to be found everywhere. They wear peasant clothes, it is true, but clean, properly sewn and good, especially the women. They also always eat well, and, most surprising of all, almost all of them eat bread of finely sifted flour. They have plenty of livestock, and very good too, and their gardens are filled with cherry, apple and other fruit trees in very great numbers. In a word, they live in great abundance, and many of them, especially in the real Żuławy, closer to Danzig, have great fortunes running to several thousand and play important roles there.

Such was the village in which we were to have our spring cantonment quarters. Although it was the poorest of all the Żuławy villages, even here we could not admire enough the way of life of our hosts. But as all the regiments were then quartered along the Vistula River and very closely, we too were sometimes rather cramped, and only my captain received a farmstead to himself; otherwise we officers had to stay two and three together, and the soldiers a whole corporal's squad to one lodging. For this very reason I too then had to stay not alone but with the other sub-lieutenants of our company, namely Mr. Golovachov and Mr. Bachmanov, of whom the former was called Matvey Vasilyevich and was a very steady, kind man, always loved by me and a good friend of mine; and the latter — Makar Ivanovich, and was also a kind and simple-hearted man, but, being a Novgorod landowner, very comical and curious in many things.

So, although quite a little family of us stood in one house together with our servants, we were not at all cramped, given the size of the room and the house; we were content with our quarters, all the more so because our host happened to be a kind man and our hostess kinder still. Both vied with each other to serve us in every way they could, and we hardly needed to buy either provisions for ourselves or fodder for our horses, for our hosts considered it a dishonour and would not hear of our buying what they had and could serve us with. And it helped a great deal in this that I could talk with them, as Germans, and always knew how to be kind to them myself.

In this way we stayed here not only in complete contentment but, one may say, really merrily.

Our captain was quartered only some two hundred sazhens from us, the other officers also not far off, and we could see them very often; and on top of all that, our household company was merry in itself. Mr. Bachmanov amused us every day with his doings and odd expressions, and above all with his incessant quarrels with his orderly, Doronya, and his Novgorod curses. We joked and made fun of him as a fine little jester and sometimes split our sides with laughter, provoking him to anger and then making peace with him again.

Moreover, no sooner had we settled in here and become fully established than I felt like visiting Toruń and seeing that town. I found it very fine and not at all like a Polish town, but entirely German and very like our Riga. The buildings in it were all of stone, continuous and tall; the streets just as narrow and crooked, and the inhabitants were for the most part Germans, many of them very well-to-do and with fine houses.

My first business on arriving in this town was to look for a bookshop such as there is in Riga, and, to my very great pleasure, I found one. It was not as large as the Riga one, but quite decent, and I could spend an hour or more with very great pleasure looking through and leafing through the books. Had it not been for the consideration that I must by no means burden myself with many books, lest I be forced to throw them away again as before, I would have bought a great many of them, having money then. But however much the above-mentioned circumstance hindered me, I could by no means part with a new monthly German journal that then caught my eye, published in Danzig under the title "Historical News" about our war of that time, with all the dispatches, plans and descriptions of battles and everything else. All my blood was stirred on seeing a work so interesting for that time. I at once bought all the parts that had come out by then, and was as glad of it as if I had found some great treasure.

But it was not this alone that gave me pleasure in this town on that trip; there was something else as well. When, after buying all the necessary things, we happened to dine there in a tavern, at that very time, and as if on purpose to satisfy my curiosity, a man came in with a perspective box, in which, through a glass, various perspective views of cities are shown, and which many among us wrongly call a camera obscura. I had never before that time happened not only to see this optical instrument, but even to hear that such a thing existed in the world, and — my God — with what pleasure, joy and curiosity I looked into it and admired the views of the most famous cities in the world and of the finest buildings and streets in them, appearing in it so vividly and, as it were, as in nature.

In a word, I almost jumped for joy at having the chance to see them, even if only on paper, and to gain some notion of them.

I could not tire of looking through all his pictures and examining the very construction of this machine, which seemed to me very simple and made without much ingenuity, and with very great willingness I paid the small sum of money that was due to the man who showed them to us and earned his living by it.

No sooner had I returned to my quarters than I set about the books I had bought, began reading them at once and sat over them day and night. Their matter pleased me so much, and the whole history of our war seemed to me so interesting, that after a few days I resolved to translate it all, so that my comrades and other officers of our regiment could also profit from reading it. A strange and truly most frivolous undertaking! I did not consider at all how great a task, and how utterly disproportionate to my powers, I was undertaking; I did not consider whether I would have enough time and leisure for it, and whether I would have patience enough to translate such big books; and finally it never entered my head to consider whether it was worth undertaking such a great labour for anyone, and whether I would find many readers as curious as I myself was. I cared for none of that; but, following solely my own inclination and the ardour and frivolity natural to my years at that time, I really did set about this labour, and for several days running worked at this translation unremittingly, so that in a short time I wrote several quires, and perhaps would have written still more, had not the following circumstance somewhat diminished my zeal for it, and the subsequent change in our circumstances at last interrupted and brought to nothing this altogether vain and empty labour. Namely: having written several quires in the manner described above, I wished to receive for my labour all the reward I expected and, giving my translation to some of my brethren to read, to share in the pleasure they would have in reading it. In the confident hope that this would follow, I actually did so and let some of the most curious officers make use of it. But imagine how great my vexation and indignation must have been when, instead of the eagerness to read I had expected, I noticed in them hardly the slightest curiosity or desire to read, and when some, before reading even three pages, were already beginning to yawn, while others would not even take it in hand, but hurried more willingly to pursuits more agreeable to them, namely card playing, drinking punch, and chasing after peasant girls and maidservants, in which all our gentlemen officers were then mostly engaged and in which they found the best way to pass their time. This vexed me unspeakably: I scolded them all in my mind, laughed at their ignorance and at their having so little curiosity, and at last said to myself in my thoughts: "You are not worth it, my good sirs, that one should toil and labour so much for you; better stay with your foolish pursuits; and would it not be better for me to stop making a fool of myself for you and sitting up whole days and evenings to satisfy your imaginary curiosity, which you never had at all?" From that time I stopped straining myself over this translation as I had before, and this very thing also somewhat halted my earlier work, namely the fair copying of my Cleveland and the continuation of its translation; for I could expect no better reward for that labour either; and as for its ever being printed — that could not even be thought of at the time.

And so from that time, although I did translate now and then, it was solely for my own amusement and when I had nothing else to do and when I had grown tired of reading.

While we were marching from Courland to Toruń in the manner described and standing here in cantonment quarters, the new commander of our army was thinking how he might set out with his army in good time on a further campaign and manage to make all the necessary preparations for it; for one must know that the war was not drawing to an end, but flaring up more and more from hour to hour. The King of Prussia's successes the previous autumn had produced great upheavals in all affairs at all the European courts, and all circumstances had changed in many respects — at which one cannot even wonder. No one in the world had thought or expected that the war of the previous summer would end as described above, and everyone could only marvel at all the events. And truly, in no campaign, I think, had there been so many swift and sudden reversals from fortune to misfortune and from misfortune to fortune as in the one of the previous summer. Divine Providence, which disposes all military events in its own way, wrought very strange reversals in the destinies of all the warring powers: the Prussians it now raised to a brilliant height of fortune, now cast down into an abyss of misfortunes and woes. We Russians, as can be seen from the foregoing, won a battle over the Prussians, yet left Prussia as though vanquished and beaten. The French imagined that they had completely overthrown and disarmed the Duke of Cumberland; but the rumour of it had not yet spread through all Europe when news was already received that one of their armies had been utterly routed and that the Duke of Cumberland had, as it were, come back to life. The Austrians imagined that they had completely conquered Silesia and were already flattering themselves with the hope of soon seeing an end to the whole war; but suddenly they received blow after blow, and such misfortunes that they were obliged to abandon the whole of Silesia and flee with the remnants of their beaten armies back into Bohemia.

Such a strange reversal of fortune and of all circumstances struck all Europe, as it were, like a thunderbolt. All the courts were astounded and for some time did not know what to begin or do. But soon new schemes and new undertakings began: all the courts making up the so-called Grand Alliance, that is, our Russian, the Austrian, the French and the Swedish, could not calmly bear such a failure. They burned with vexation and wished to avenge all the vexations and insults done to them, and for that very reason took up arms again and resolved to exert still greater effort. On the other side, the King of Prussia, seeing the necessity of continuing the war, and encouraged by his latest successes, and thus flattering himself with the hope of gaining still better ones, began to use all his strength to put himself in a position to resist his enemies.

For all these reasons, no sooner had winter set in than each court began to arm anew, and with still greater zeal than before.

However much the King of Prussia schemed and strove, with the help of his allies the English, to draw our Empress away from the alliance with the Austrians and the French, and however much he relied on his secret obligations and agreements with the then heir to the Russian throne and on his assistance in everything, the ministers of the Austrian and French courts, by their intrigues and efforts, overcame all his stratagems and largely brought his designs to nothing. They managed to win our ministers and the Empress's favourites over to their side and, having found out something about the above-mentioned secret obligations between him and our then Grand Duke, at last brought about the change whereby Chancellor Bestuzhev, who until then had managed all affairs, was overthrown, and thereby all affairs took a better turn, and among other things the Empress firmly resolved to continue the war, together with the others, against the King of Prussia.

About the above-mentioned secret agreement then existing between the King of Prussia and our then Grand Duke only vague rumours circulated at the time, and the real facts were not known until the King of Prussia himself, in later times, revealed it when writing his history of this war. He says that the said Grand Duke, while still a Prince of Holstein, was very angry with the Danes for the wrongs and injustices done to his ancestors by the Danish court, and, burning with the desire to take revenge on them upon his accession to the throne, feared that, in the circumstances of the time, the King of Prussia, who was seeking allies everywhere, might make friends with them, and that this very thing prompted him to ask the King of Prussia by no means to conclude an alliance with them, promising in return, for his part, to help the King with all his strength and means in the war of that time. As for Bestuzhev, as much as he had at first opposed the King of Prussia himself, so much did he begin to take his side when the Empress fell ill and he, fearing her death, attached himself to the Grand Duke as the heir to the throne: and this very thing was the reason why he ordered Count Apraksin to return from Prussia the previous summer. But when Count Bestuzhev was overthrown and sent into exile and other people began to manage affairs, everything went differently. And that is why our troops were ordered to go back at once into the Kingdom of Prussia and, having occupied it, to advance further the following summer and press the King of Prussia even in his innermost Brandenburg provinces; and so that all this could be put into effect with greater success, not only were new recruits gathered to bring the army up to strength, but a new and special corps was also formed, under the name of the Observation Corps, and sent straight through Poland to join our army.

And as it was made up for the most part of the best men, picked from the old Ukrainian regiments, great hopes were placed on it.

On another side, the Empress-Queen too made no lesser preparations for war than we did. She likewise brought her armies up to strength with recruits, and, moreover, was so fortunate that the inhabitants of Hungary, out of their devotion to her, of their own accord promised to give her forty thousand troops and maintain them at their own expense. Supreme command over the armies was again entrusted to the famous General Daun, and another army, against Saxony, was under the command of General Serbelloni, and both were ordered to begin their military operations as early as possible.

On a third side the Imperial Army, assembled from various German peoples, was again preparing for military operations as well, and command over it was given to the Prince of Zweibrücken.

On a fourth, the French did not fail to do the same, and all winter busied themselves with all the necessary preparations for continuing the war both against the Prussians and against the English; and as the French court was extremely displeased with Marshal Richelieu's latest conduct, he was recalled in the spring and command of the army was entrusted to the Count of Clermont.

Finally, on a fifth side, the Swedes too made similar preparations for war. However much the King of Prussia tried to persuade them to withdraw from our alliance, the adroitness of the French ministers, who then had great influence at the Swedish court, overcame all his intrigues and efforts and persuaded the Swedish government to continue the war together with us.

Such were the many and powerful preparations made against the King of Prussia; but he, for his part, was not idle either. His foremost concern was to bring his army up to strength again and make good the losses he had suffered in the seven battles of the previous year, and no less in the hospitals from contagious and almost plague-like diseases, of which a great many of his people had died. But this replenishment was not as easy for him to carry out as for the other allies, who between them all had more than 50 million people, while he had no more than five. But he made up for this shortage with his intelligence, cunning and adroitness. He obtained enough soldiers and money for himself, and not only brought his army up to strength and more, but even increased it. To get men, he first gathered recruits from all the Saxon, Anhalt and Mecklenburg lands; secondly, he brought back all the deserters by a general pardon; and thirdly, he took into his service a great many of the Austrians and French, Swedes and Württembergers who were his prisoners; and by all these means he obtained a great many people.

As for money, which he was also short of, in this England helped him. There, fortunately for him, a change took place in the ministry.

Fox, who until then had managed all affairs, having risen to that rank through the intrigues of the Duke of Cumberland, was obliged voluntarily to lay down that office. In his place came the famous Pitt, father of the present one. By his eloquence he at once persuaded the whole nation to take up the cause of the King of Prussia more warmly and not only to give him four million thalers every year, but, moreover, to reinforce the Hanoverian army with a corps of Englishmen; and to command it he requested from the King of Prussia Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, who later became famous. And no sooner had the King received this money than he recoined it into new and very poor coinage, and out of four million made ten, and thereby obtained enough money for that year to continue the war.

It was in such occupations that the whole winter was spent by all the warring powers, and no sooner had this year 1758 begun than some of them at once began their military operations. These were begun by the French, or rather by the Duc de Richelieu, who still commanded them at the time. Wishing to correct somewhat the blunder he had committed, he sent the Marquis d'Argenson with twelve thousand men to take the town of Halberstadt; and as this town was not very well fortified, the garrison withdrew to Magdeburg within sight of the French, who, having occupied the town, wrought great devastation in it and plundered almost all the inhabitants.

This undertaking of the French prompted the King of Prussia to send a corps from Saxony in that direction under the command of his brother, Prince Henry, who, having driven the French back to the Weser River, returned to his post again; and as at this very time Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick took command of the Hanoverian army, he began to drive the French farther and farther, and did so with such success that by the end of February the whole French army had already crossed back over the Weser River, and in March even crossed back over the Rhine itself, having lost so many men that no more than 30,000 remained in it.

Such was the state of affairs in Europe at the time when we, in the manner described above, were standing by the Vistula River and preparing to march further against the enemy. And as about this time news was received that the King was about to besiege the Silesian fortress of Schweidnitz, which alone remained in the hands of the Austrians, our new commander, in order to create a diversion against him, began to hurry all the remaining preparations for the march; and as spring was then fully opening and grass was beginning to appear, we kept receiving orders to be ready for the march and expected from hour to hour to be ordered to set out. But at that very time, against all hope and expectation, we were overjoyed beyond measure by a piece of news.

What it was, do not ask me now. That you will see in my next letter, and this one, having grown rather long, it is time to end and to tell you that I am, and so on.

THE MARCH TO KÖNIGSBERG

Letter 57

Dear friend! As you, I hope, are very curious to know what that news was which so greatly gladdened us, I shall begin my present letter by satisfying this curiosity of yours and tell you that it was as follows.

While we were preparing for the march in the manner described and expecting every day the order to set out on it and cross the Vistula River, one of our officers and friends, who had gone to Toruń on his own business, called on us on his way back. No sooner had he entered our room than he said to us with a cheerful air:

— Do you know, gentlemen, I have brought you some news, and news very important for us!

— Good, — we answered, — but what sort of news? If it's bad, you needn't have come to us with it.

— No, — he said, — how it will seem to you I don't know, but to me it's not bad. In a word, we are ordered to march, and we are to set out the day after tomorrow.

— Well, what's so remarkable about that! — we said. — We've long been expecting it and are ready to set out even tomorrow.

— What a lot you are, — he broke in, — you'd better ask — where to?

— That's a known thing too: across the river and against the enemy, — we replied coolly.

— Well, that's just what you haven't guessed, — he said.

— What! Surely not back home again? — we asked in surprise.

— No! — he said. — Not home, but not against the enemy either; they'll manage there without us.

These words now aroused great curiosity in us.

— Then where to? — we said. — Tell us, brother, please.

— No! — he said. — Let one of you put his wits to work and guess it himself; I'll only say that you'll be just as glad of it as I am.

Then we had no more patience and pressed him, who was tormenting us and would not tell, with our entreaties until (such time as) he finally said:

“To Königsberg, gentlemen, the very place we have all long been wishing to see.”

“You don’t mean it?” we all cried out with one voice. “But can such a thing be?”

“Of course it can,” he answered, “and it must be ‘lawful,’ {Possible, permitted, not forbidden; in our usage only the negative form survives — нельзя, “not allowed.”} since an order to that effect has already been sent to our colonel.”

“But have mercy! How can that be, and in what way? Königsberg is already far behind us.”

“Of course!” he replied. “But that is just the wonder of it! And for all that we are to march there with the regiment and, what is better still, to live there the whole of this summer and do nothing more than keep the guards.”

You may now easily conclude that this delighted us beyond measure; for although we went willingly on campaign against the enemy, we knew well that the enemy does not jest, that a campaign against him is not always merry and at times is very bad indeed, and that, moreover, no one could know for certain whether he would return from the campaign safe and sound or remain there forever. And so, however much zeal and eagerness we had for military service — to whom is life not dear, and who would not wish to enjoy it for at least one more year? Who, then, would not have rejoiced to hear that for a whole summer he was released not only from all the dangers of war but also from all the toils and troubles bound up with a campaign, and who would not have thanked God and his fate for it?

And indeed we were so glad of it that more than once we said, “Glory, glory be to God!” and thanked fate for showing us so great a kindness and giving us such an advantage over many others. With the greatest goodwill we blessed the road of all the other regiments marching past us and wished them glory and every good fortune on their campaign, while we ourselves never even thought of being vexed that we would not have the happiness of being with them in battle and sharing with them the glory of the victories they won.

But no one in the whole regiment, I think, was so overjoyed by this news as I was. All the others rejoiced chiefly because they would not go on campaign but would remain in one place, at rest, with good quarters, living in a plentiful city of the kind where they would have every opportunity to indulge in all manner of luxury and debauchery; but my joy flowed from quite a different source. Pleasant as it was to me that I would not go on campaign and be exposed to dangers, but would live in one place, I rejoiced as much or incomparably more at the prospect of living a whole summer in a large and famous foreign German city, of which I had heard I know not how much good, and which was full of learned men, libraries and bookshops. Being able to speak German, I flattered myself with the hope that I could make the acquaintance of many of the inhabitants and that I would find it very merry there and never dull; that I could see a great many things I had never seen, and obtain and buy as many books as I pleased. In a word, I was already enraptured in advance by these thoughts and pictured to myself I know not how many pleasures, and no one, I think, prepared for this journey with such eagerness as I did.

The order to set out on this march was indeed received by us the very next day, and on the third day we set off.

On parting with our hosts there, we could not thank them enough for all the kindness and favour they had shown us, and we wished them a happy continuation of their prosperous life; and as they too were pleased with us, they saw us off, wishing us a happy journey.

We marched through the very same places we had passed before, as far as the Bishopric of Ermland and its capital, Heilsberg {In East Prussia, on the river Alle.}, and from there we turned to the left and went by the direct road to Königsberg. And as it was then the finest, earliest springtime and the weather was fair, I can say that of all the marches I ever happened to make in my life this was the merriest and most pleasant. We went along unhurriedly and at our ease, making short stages, always halting in small towns rather than in camps, and enjoying ourselves in everything. Only the officers of the day led the regiment on the march, while all the rest of us officers rode on horseback, not with the infantry but wherever we pleased, usually in little groups and companies of several men together, and we passed our time on the road in nothing but jokes, laughter and friendly conversation. And during our night halts and rest days in the Polish townlets or Prussian small towns we passed it in strolling about them in company, visiting one another in our quarters, dropping into taverns and amusing ourselves there with jokes, games and the like.

For the rest, I do not remember anything special happening to me in the course of this march, any adventure worth recording, except one, of no consequence, concerning a comical prank we played on my comrade mentioned earlier, Sub-lieutenant Bachmanov; and since I was the chief ringleader of all the mischief, I shall tell it to you purely for a laugh.

I have already mentioned to you that this man, though very kind and loved by all of us, had quite a peculiar character of the sort that sometimes made us play pranks on him and laugh at him. Being a Novgorodian, he was wilful and stubborn and did not like jokes and mockery at his expense. No sooner would someone laugh or jest at him in any way, even in fun, than he would lose his temper and raise a tremendous row over it; and this, as is well known, in regiments gives occasion, and as it were the right, for everyone to make fun of a man and jeer at him. To his greater misfortune, being used to the Novgorod dialect, he still could not break himself of it in the service, nor of pronouncing many words with “o,” “po,” “ko” and not at all as others say them; and this often gave occasion for joking at him — and besides, his whole appearance, temper and character had something comical and peculiar about them.

To add further to his misfortune, God had sent him an orderly almost exactly like himself. He was a good lad, but somewhat simple, and had (in) him much that was comical.

With this Doronya of his (for so he called him, as I have already mentioned) he had a quarrel and a making-up {Reconciliation.} almost every day. And all the while we were quartered together not a day passed without our roaring with laughter at him. And since his surname, Bachmanov, sounded very much like “bachan” — the name of that particular kind of heron or stork which builds its nests on houses and often on chimneys and, like storks, feeds on all sorts of vermin and frogs — we usually called him Bachan, which his tall, thin, stooping figure and long legs somewhat resembled; and he grew so used to this name that he scarcely took offence any more when someone called him Bachan. {Other names for the bachan: busel, chernoguz, batyan, stork, heron.}

This very name gave us the idea for the joke on him that I intend to tell. It was while we were still in our quarters, some six days before we set out on the march, that I happened one morning to go walking with him and another comrade of ours through the gardens and the small groves here and there among the farmsteads of our village. Then, as if on purpose, a cuckoo began to call in a little wood not far from us. Mr. Golovachev and I, hearing it, were delighted and said:

“Look, look, the cuckoos have come already!”

But Mr. Bachmanov, instead of doing the same, suddenly flew into a rage and began cursing the cuckoo with all his Novgorod oaths.

“Pah, you accursed thing,” he said, spitting again and again, “may the devil take you, wretch! May the evil one crush you! May it fall on your own head!” — and so on.

Hearing this, we rolled with laughter.

“What is this, brother Makar,” we said, “why are you so angry with the cuckoo? What has she done to you?”

“What, brothers?” he said. “The accursed thing cuckooed at me on an empty stomach, and now I know for certain that I shall not live out this year. Oh, may a foul sickness take her, and may all the devils throttle her, the cursed thing!”

“So, so!” we said, laughing all the harder. “Farewell now, brother Makar! You won’t keep your poor little head on your shoulders! The cuckoo has foretold it, so it must be, and the time has come to part with the world.”

Simple as our Makar was, he noticed that we were jeering at him, and then suddenly all his righteous wrath turned from the cuckoo onto us — and by this he handed us a fresh weapon against himself, to torment and infuriate him with our mockery. And that cuckoo spited him so much the whole of that day that in the end he was weary of his life and cursed us, and himself, and his fancy for walking.

But the matter did not end there. Having noticed that with this cuckoo he could most quickly be provoked {Angered, enraged.} and driven wild, which was always what we were after, we were delighted and went further, and it occurred to me to compose for the occasion a comic song of the kind that could set him off in an instant. I confess it was pure mischief, and what prompted me to it was nothing other than, on the one hand, youth and frivolity, and on the other, the advice of my captain; for he, who joked at him just as we did, had no sooner heard about the cuckoo’s cuckooing mentioned above and all the rest than he said to me at once:

“Ah, my friend! If only someone would make up a song about this — what laughter and fun there would be! And if all of a sudden we all struck it up, since he so hates the cuckoo — just see what would happen then.”

That was enough to rouse in me the wish to try whether I could compose a song to some familiar tune {To a melody.}; and as the tune of the old song known to everyone, “Somewhere in a little wood by the streams of a brook,” was more familiar to me than any other, and the very kind of song seemed most suitable for the purpose, I at once began to invent the words and, for the first time in my life, to put together verses and rhymes.

I spent no more than about two days on this work, in secret from our friend, and succeeded so well that my captain and all the others liked my song extremely, and they all resolved to learn it by heart at once and, when we knew it, to surround him somewhere in a ring so that he could not slip out, and all sing it together with one voice. And so many copies of it were made at once; and as there was no time then to carry the matter further, we decided to do it during our march to Königsberg. And this we put into effect on the march: for as we all rode on horseback in groups, some ten of us, having learned the song and arranged it with several others, once surrounded him on horseback so that he could not ride out of the middle, and all of a sudden we struck up our song, which ran as follows:

On a meadow green and bright
Sat a little froggy,
In an oak tree, high in sight,
Called a cuckoo, mocking:
“There’s Bachan come flying near,
And Doronya running here.
What are you doing here?
Aren’t you afraid of them?

When Bachan comes flying by,
He is sure to spy you,
And Doronya, running nigh,
In a flash will slay you;
He is fond of such as you,
And he scolds us for it too,
That we cuckooed at him
On an empty stomach.”

Meanwhile Bachan, sure enough,
Started to come down;
He had taken it in mind
With his friend to visit.
Down he came and down he sat,
And Doronya sang at that:
“Wouldn’t you, Bachan, like
Something now to eat?”

“If there’s something, bring it here,
Beat the cuckoo to it;
If there’s nothing, run, my dear,
Catch a frog — go do it.
By the marsh it sits, look there,
Looking at you with a stare.
Run as quickly as you can,
Lest it hop away.”

As Doronya ran to catch
Over there the froggy,
Then Bachan cried out in fear,
Catching sight of cuckoo:
“Ah, Doronya, friend of mine,
Grab it quickly, now’s the time,
Lest the cuckoo in the oak
Start her cuckooing!”

On the meadow, all a-fright,
Was the little froggy,
In the oak, with all her might,
Called at once the cuckoo;
And Doronya tumbled down,
And although he rose again,
Long before, the frog had leapt
Off into the water.

Then our Bachan in a rage
At his own Doronya
In a flash set off in chase,
Shouting as he followed:
“Oh, you cursed son, you fool,
Blockhead, beast, you simple tool!
May you sink into the ground,
You and all your quickness!

What am I to do, what now
Shall I do with you, then?
Look what you have done to me,
Fool, just now, again!
You have let the froggy go,
And you’ve left me hungry so,
While the cursed thing up there
Went and cuckooed at me.

Now this year I’m doomed to die,
Doomed this year to perish,
All my kin on earth goodbye,
All the friends I cherish.
And it’s all because of you;
I’ve destroyed myself, it’s true,
Setting such a fool as you
On this kind of business.

But is this the only thing
You have spoiled for me?
Don’t you pile up every day
Woe on woe for me?
Thanks to you, you blockhead, fool,
I’m so ruined, through and through,
That there’s nothing left for me
But to perish with you.

You have squandered all my goods
Nearly to the last thing;
Don’t you recall how you lost
Both my comb and shirt?
When I give you a gomzelya*,
You will see yourself full well
That I truly have no mind
To be joking with you.

Fool, you know that I am not
Any wealthy fellow;
Lice have eaten all I’ve got,
Oh, you cursed dullard!
And you’ve gone and lost the comb,
Without which I’m lost and done.
Ah, you poor Bachan,
Where are you to turn now?”

* Gamza, gamzulya, gomza — a purse, money. Here figuratively: “I’ll give you a slap, a clout on the back of the head.” These words, like the other oaths, sayings, reproaches and speeches, were exactly the ones Mr. Bachmanov used almost daily when quarrelling with his orderly Doronya.

Such was the nonsense this song was filled with.

Now judge for yourself how Mr. Bachmanov felt when, hearing it, he realized that it had been composed on purpose about him and that we were making sport of him. He flew into a rage to the point of losing his senses and at first began to abuse us all without any mercy, and then, like a madman, to hurl himself at us, and especially at me, lashing out with his whip and trying to break out of our ring and ride away. But we all joined hands and made such a firm ring that he could not possibly get away until the very end of the song. My God! How much abuse we endured from him then, how many curses, and how much we laughed and roared! At last he broke away from us and galloped off — but where? Straight to the colonel, to complain and lodge a petition against us. But all that came of it was a new comedy. Foreseeing this, we had taken care in good time to forestall any consequences that might prove vexatious for us. We had drawn into our plot and our band Mr. Zeller himself, the colonel’s darling and favourite, who served him as interpreter. And since he himself was an accomplice in this joke, we hoped he would recount the whole affair to the colonel in a good light, and so it turned out. Mr. Bachmanov, galloping up to the colonel, began in his flurry {In haste.} to pour out a thousand complaints against us. But the colonel, who did not understand a single word of Russian or what he was saying to him, only kept asking:

“Was ist das? {German: what is it?} Was ist das?”

And as no one could explain it to him, Mr. Zeller was sought out, and he recounted the whole affair to him in so funny and jesting a light that the colonel himself split his sides laughing and only said to Bachmanov, laughing:

“Vell, vat of it? Gut... bachan... cuckoo... froggy... sing... song... nossing... laugh...” — and so on.

In a word, our Mr. Bachmanov could get no sense out of him and achieved only this, that the whole regiment heard of it, and everyone who could laugh began to laugh at him and to tease and anger him with the cuckoo. And when at last it came to the point that even the soldiers, having heard something of it, would start either cuckooing or talking among themselves about a frog whenever they caught sight of him, our poor Makar found no peace anywhere, and was at last driven so far that he resolved to ask for a transfer to another regiment and flee from ours, and it cost us no small trouble to talk him round and calm him down again.

But it was not only this prank; we played many others on him during this march, but as they are not worth mentioning, having arisen solely from our frivolity and high spirits, I shall pass over them in silence and say only that this man entertained us all the whole time of our journey, and rarely did a day go by without our undertaking something against him and, having angered him beyond all bounds, once again {Again, anew.} making peace with him.

I also remember that never did I go fishing with a kakulya so much as during this march.

Wherever we came to spend the night, we found either streams or lakes; and as we had a great many kakulyas, we hardly let a single opportunity slip to amuse ourselves with this kind of fishing.

In Heilsberg, the capital of Ermland mentioned earlier, we not only had a day of rest but also stayed a full two days to attend to certain needs. During this time the colonel and I again visited the bishop, and this little sovereign again did his best to entertain us, and we passed our time merrily. On this occasion I happened to be quartered with one of his courtiers, who held the office of gentleman of the bedchamber or chamberlain but who, however, differed little from the other townsfolk, and I was very pleased with the kindness of both my host and hostess.

Some days after that, having met with no particular adventures on the way, we at last reached our glorious Königsberg and thus happily ended this march of ours.

With this I shall end this letter, telling you that I am your friend, etc.

ENTRY INTO KÖNIGSBERG

Letter 58

My dear friend! As our arrival in Königsberg began a new and particularly memorable period of my life, allow me, my dear friend, before I describe my stay in that city, to preface it with a brief reflection about myself.

Every time I reflect on the course of my life and on all that has happened to me, I notice in it many traces of a special divine Providence over me, and I now see very clearly that even the most important events of my life were directed and arranged by none other than the invisible hand of the Lord, so that, if not at the time, then afterwards, they turned to my real benefit. But none of them strikes me so much in such reflections as the aforementioned, entirely unexpected arrival in Königsberg and my stay in that city; for countless advantages and benefits flowed to me from it, and I now see that it was not by blind chance that I came to Königsberg then, but that it pleased the Lord’s Providence, as if on purpose, to bring me to that Prussian city, so that, living there, I might have the opportunity to come to know myself and, in short, everything in the world, and might thereby prepare myself for that peaceful, tranquil and happy life with which Heaven was pleased to bless me in the time that followed — for which I thank, and shall never cease to thank, my great Creator. Having made me not at all for military life, He did not wish me to drag out any longer an idle existence of the kind in which I was not only exposed to dangers every minute, but, living in the company of ignorant, idle people for the most part given to every kind of debauchery, might easily have been infected with that poison myself and thereby harmed myself for life. Instead, tearing me out of their midst, He placed me in a position more in keeping with my natural inclinations, where I had more occasions and opportunities to occupy myself with more useful matters and pursuits than those in which officers in regiments usually pass their time.

But however evident all this became to me afterwards, so little did I know of any of it at the time; and so I regarded my coming to Königsberg then as nothing but the work of blind chance, nor did I think that anything special could come of it for me. As for this very march being the last of my life, and fate having ordained that with my arrival in that city my whole military service should almost come to an end — that could never have entered my mind, or anyone else’s, at the time, for there was not the slightest likelihood of it then.

For all that, feeling extraordinary joy that we were going to Königsberg, I seemed to have a presentiment that something good would happen to me there; for I can say that, however pleased everyone was with this march, my pleasure was beyond comparison with anyone’s, and especially at the moment when, as we approached the city, we saw in the distance the red roofs of its houses and, rising above them, the splendid and majestic towers and tall belfries of its churches. With an insatiable eye and a kind of rapture I gazed on this extensive city, seated on high ground and presenting, from the side by which we approached, an exceptionally splendid and handsome appearance, and I regarded it as a kind of abode of happiness, a place where we would have countless delights and pleasures, and I was already preparing myself for them in advance.

But I shall return to the order of my narrative and now begin telling you, in due order, all that happened to me there.

It was at the very beginning of spring, at the end of the month of April, when we reached this Prussian capital. As we drew near, we were ordered to halt and to smarten ourselves up as well and as cleanly as possible, in order to enter it in ceremony.

And we saw to this with particular zeal; and as everyone wished to show himself to the best advantage, nothing was neglected that might serve for the finest adornment. All our weapons were polished like glass; the cleanest linen and the best uniforms were put on. I cannot recall without laughing how we vied with one another in this, how we swaggered, and with what a proud and pompous step we marched before our platoons, proceeding to the playing of music and the beating of drums through the streets of the city, which were filled with crowds of people; for as the inhabitants were still very curious to see our ceremonies, not only all the windows but many of the roofs too were thick with people, and the sight of so great a multitude spurred us all the more to show off. I was then, as has already been mentioned, in the grenadier company; and as our grenadier caps at that time were of leather, made in the likeness of ancient helmets, with plumes and a gilded brass plate in front, and this headgear was very handsome; and as, moreover, our grenadier shoulder belts were embroidered with gold; and as, above all, I had to march almost first in front of the regiment and lead the very first platoon of our grenadiers — I took I know not what pains to march and cut the finest figure, and had so flattering an opinion of myself that I imagined everyone was looking at me most of all, though no doubt I was greatly mistaken in this.

This entry of ours took place one fine day after dinner, and although by chance we had to enter the city from its worst side and march all the way through plain and inferior streets and back lanes to the quarters of the local Oberkommandant, Mr. Treyden, even these latter streets seemed to us at first exceedingly fine, and we looked at them with a pleased and curious eye.

Since our quarters had already been allotted and occupied by our forerunners sent on ahead, no sooner had we reached the Oberkommandant’s quarters, saluted him and left our colours there, than all the companies were dismissed to their various quarters. I did not walk then so much as fly after the furrier who was leading us, and thought nothing else than that he would bring me to the most splendid of quarters. But how grievously I was mistaken in this opinion, and with what vexation and displeasure my heart was filled when, instead of grand and beautiful quarters, he brought me to a veritable hovel, a shack such as I least of all expected! While still on my way there and passing the finest streets, squares and places in the city, I was vexed that our quartermaster had been so stupid as not to lead us through them but through out-of-the-way streets and lanes; yet this vexation was sweetened by the flattering hope that I would at least get good quarters, and that they would certainly be in one of those beautiful houses we were passing, and I kept expecting the furrier to stop me and say, “Here it is.” But my expectation was in vain: not only did he not stop me, but having led me past the very best streets, he took me into remote, narrow, uninhabited lanes among the so-called Speicher, that is, enormous grain warehouses, for which a special remote corner or quarter, far from the better parts of the city, is set aside, and where several hundred of them had been built together, close side by side. Each such warehouse was a very long, narrow, but at the same time extremely tall building, rising some seven storeys, of the plainest, roughest half-timbered construction; and as they are all divided into several blocks, separated from one another by the narrowest and darkest alleys, made solely for driving in and carting out the grain, these alleys were the most out-of-the-way, utterly empty and even frightening. And it was along these very alleys and back lanes, among the Speicher, that my guide led me. I was astonished, and not knowing what to think, I said to him with vexation:

“Have mercy, my good fellow, where are you taking me?” — “Why, to your quarters, Your Honour; here they are, close by now.” “Close by?” I interrupted him in astonishment. “Am I really to be quartered in such a wilderness, in such a pit? You haven’t assigned me quarters in some Speicher, have you?”

“No, sir,” he answered me, “but right next to them, and I must confess the little lodging is not very cheerful; but no better could be found among all those assigned to the company, except the captain’s.” These words positively stunned me; in a single instant all my grand and flattering hopes and cheerful thoughts vanished, and I was already cursing in advance all those who had allotted us our quarters; and when I arrived and actually saw the house in which my quarters had been assigned, my vexation with them grew still greater.

I gave them a thousand fine blessings and, abusing them without mercy, was forced against my will to climb a winding, dark staircase right up under the roof, to the very third storey; and as the way was so dark that you could not see a thing, climbing in the darkness from one flight to another I very nearly stumbled and broke my neck, and was saved only by catching hold of a rope which they stretch along such stairs and by which one must always hold when going up and coming down — something I did not know at first.

Anyone can now easily conclude how pleasant I found such a gloomy procession, or rather clamber, up the stairs almost to the very roof, for the rooms assigned to me were on the third floor; the lower storeys were occupied by the master of the house himself and certain other overseers and workmen employed at the aforementioned Speicher, against the very edge of which this little house was built. Although the whole third storey of the house fell to my share, it contained no more than two rooms in all: one long and narrow, with two small windows in one wall, for me; and the other, across a narrow, dark little landing up which the aforementioned winding staircase came from below, of the same length and size, for my servants; and both were so low that we all but knocked our heads against the ceiling.

And so, instead of grand and beautiful quarters, I received very, very mediocre ones and, what vexed me most of all, dark and very dreary ones, for the very view from the windows took in almost nothing but the Speicher, and nothing pleasant could be seen from them. As for the hosts, they were the poorest of people, from whom we could obtain not only nothing else but not even the most trifling vessel for fetching water or for other needs. This vexed me exceedingly, and I was so displeased with my quarters that I did not fail that very day to complain of them to my captain and to ask him to try to get me somewhat better quarters. And as my captain was fond of me, he did not fail to do so and, out of friendship, arranged it so that within a few days I received other, incomparably better quarters with which I was perfectly content.

But since, before I received these new quarters and moved into them, something happened to me that it will not be superfluous to mention, I shall tell of it first.

No sooner had we settled into our quarters and somehow made ourselves at home than we were impatient to satisfy our long-standing wish and walk all over and inspect this city, so famous in our eyes. I undertook this journey the very next day after our arrival and ran round all the finest squares, streets and places of the city, and could not admire enough the beauty and splendour of many streets, and especially of the so-called Great Kneiphof Street 29, which our people at once christened in their own way and named Millionnaya, because it was not only perfectly straight but consisted of the finest and richest houses in the city. With no less curiosity I also looked at the old castle 30, or palace of the former rulers of Prussia. This huge quadrangular building, raised on a hill and not entirely finished, gave the whole city an imposing and splendid appearance, especially with its extremely tall square tower built at one corner, without any spire or roof, on top of which flew only one large flag and where people living there to keep watch could always be seen. But I shall leave the description of this city for another occasion, and now I shall tell you, my dear friend, that my excursion that day did not end in mere idle walking, for I returned to my quarters laden with certain trinkets which seemed to me then the most precious things in the world and whose acquisition gave me boundless joy and pleasure. But what might they have been? You will never guess, my dear friend, for it could never enter your head what delighted me so.

You know already that from childhood I was a great lover not only of books and reading but also of drawing, and that my most pleasant occupation had always been to daub and smear something with paints. Now I shall tell you that, walking about the city then, I happened to pass from one street to another through a small hidden lane full of little shops with various wares. It so happened that at that very moment a man was standing in front of one of these shops looking through some printed pictures. Seeing this, and being an extreme lover of them, I at once went up and began to sort through them together with him. The shopkeeper, noticing that I too was looking through them with curiosity, brought out whole stacks more of these sheets and laid them on the counter. “What is all this?” I asked. “Are they all pictures?” “Just so,” he answered, “these are all prints — would you care for any of them?”

I cannot describe how delighted I was to see several hundred of them there, of different kinds, some coloured with paints and others black.

I forgot everything in the world then and, putting off any further walking, sat down on the counter and resolved to look through them all. But no sooner had I begun this most delightful occupation than the shopkeeper, handing me another hefty bundle, said, “Here, would you not like some perspective views?” “What perspective views?” I asked in astonishment. “Why, the kind people look at through a glass in a box.” All my blood was stirred at these words. “What!” I said, overjoyed. “You have those too?” “I have,” he answered, “and whichever you please, illuminated and unilluminated” — and he at once began to untie them and show them. I cannot describe enough with what rapture I examined them; for you must know that the perspective box I had seen in Toruń had pleased me so much that it never left my mind, and I would have given I know not what to have one like it; and when here, against all expectation, I saw fine perspective pictures, and very cheap ones too, I resolved in an instant to buy some and try to make myself such a box. But my pleasure was greater still when, asking the shopkeeper whether he did not also have the kind of round glass that is used with it, I heard that he had one such little glass too. A mirror was found at once as well, and the shopkeeper taught me how one could look at these pictures even without a box. Oh, how grateful I was to him for this demonstration! For it confirmed to me that no great skill was required to build the box either. In a word, I was so pleased with all this that I spent all the money I happened to have on me on buying these pictures. And when, to my greatest delight, I found right there whole little boxes of various paints prepared in shells, and other drawing gear, I decided to buy the best uncoloured pictures and paint them afterwards myself, so that they would not be so badly daubed as the illuminated ones on sale. In a word, I bought myself a great many paints and pictures and returned home as though I had found some immense treasure, and I was extremely pleased with my excursion that day.

As I am by nature very impatient in everything I set my heart on, this impatience caused me to set to work the very next day and begin colouring some of the pictures I had bought. But imagine how vexed I must have been when at that very moment they came to tell me that our regiment had been ordered to relieve another regiment then on guard there, that the detail had already been drawn up, and that I myself was to go on guard.

What was I to do? I was forced to abandon the work I had begun and get ready, against my will, to go on guard — and for a whole week, too.

To my greater vexation, I was posted at one of the city gates and had to spend the whole week there in a dark and most dreary casemate, or chamber, built into the rampart beside the gate. But as this could not be changed, and boredom was getting the better of me, what did I do? Instead of spending my time there in idleness and sleep, as others did, I had my paints and pictures brought to me and, sitting down under the window, began to colour them. This work was not very convenient for me, since I had to do it in uniform and wearing my sash and gorget; but it had this advantage, that it kept me from feeling the boredom which, living in such a hole, must have driven me mad in the end. And as I had complete leisure for it and could work without interruption, in that week I coloured a great many pictures, and meanwhile thought out a way to make the perspective box I had in mind more successfully.

For the rest, I performed this duty — which was the very last in my life — without mishap and with all due diligence; yet it did not pass without a comic adventure. It is well known that standing on such guards is not so tiresome by day as by night; for as at night one had to be even more on one’s guard and ready at any hour to receive the patrols and rounds, necessity obliged one to spend the whole night in uniform, with sash and gorget. I observed this punctiliously; but one day, when my former comrade Mr. Golovachev was appointed to go the rounds at night, he, being fond of me and sorry for my discomfort, sent me a note informing me that he had been appointed to go the rounds of the whole city that night, but that he would not go, and that I might sleep in peace without any fear. This note delighted me greatly, for as I had already slept several nights in uniform and boots, and my feet in particular were giving me considerable trouble, I relied on it and, when night came, lay down to sleep somewhat more at ease, taking off not only my uniform but even my boots. But what followed? Midnight had scarcely come and I had only just fallen sound asleep when suddenly they shouted, “Rounds, rounds, rounds!” and the sergeant, rushing in beside himself, woke me and shouted for me to come out quickly to receive the rounds, which were already very close. Lord! How alarmed I was then! Being woken suddenly and unexpectedly, I jumped up as if out of my wits and dazed, and did not know what to do or where to begin; I only ran round and round the guardroom shouting, “Oh, oh, what a disaster!” Meanwhile my servant hurried to hand me my uniform and put it on me, the orderly was already holding my sash and gorget, and I myself, not knowing what I was doing, hurried to pull on my boots and was so flustered that, in the faint light of the burning candle and in my haste, I could not even get my boots on — and, what was worse still, having begun to put one on the wrong way round, toe to the back, I got my foot so stuck that it was hard even to pull it off.

To make matters worse, at that very moment they shouted that the rounds had arrived.

What was I to do then? I lost my head and was so frightened that I did not know what I was doing, but quickly snatched up my hat and, forgetting that one foot was still quite bare and the other only just thrust into a boot, ran out of the guardroom to meet those accursed rounds; and I do not know what would have become of me had I run out before the front in such a ridiculous get-up. I think the whole front would have rolled with laughter; but fortunately it did not come to that, and I was happily spared this embarrassment and shame. For Mr. Golovachev, knowing that on his own assurance I was at my ease and asleep, had no thought of calling me to account for carelessness, but himself hurried to come into the guardroom to tell me not to be alarmed. But now imagine whether he could help rolling with laughter on seeing me in the state described, half-shod but in uniform and sash, running about the guardroom. “Well, a fine sight, a fine sight!” he cried, roaring with laughter. “A true warrior! Fit only for standing guard!” “Yes!” I answered, coming to my senses then. “And it is all because of you and that cursed note of yours! They have frightened me to death, so that even now I don’t know what I am doing. Why did you say you would not go?” “What could I do, my friend?” he said. “I really did not mean to go, but they packed me off by force; I am not glad of it myself — but at least lie down, lie down and go back to sleep, and it is time for me to go on.”

And indeed he left me in peace and went on, and that was the end of my comic adventure, which I remembered for a very long time. The next day other officers of our regiment relieved us from guard, and I had the pleasure of returning to my company and going to entirely different, incomparably better quarters, which had been allotted to me at my captain’s request while we were on guard and with which I was extremely pleased.

With this I shall end this letter of mine and, leaving the rest for its turn, I shall say that I am your, etc.

IN KÖNIGSBERG

Letter 59

My dear friend! The quarters newly allotted to me, though not far from the former ones, were now in a respectable and cheerful street running along the bank of the river Pregel, not far from the landing where vessels from the sea moored and unloaded; and what was better still, the house stood on a corner, beside a water canal of considerable width, across which there was a bridge in front of my windows. And as I was given for myself the ground-floor corner room, the best in the house and decently furnished, with four large windows, it was very cheerful and bright, which pleased me particularly. The house belonged to an old woman, the widow of a ship’s master, who lived in another room across the hall, while her children lived on the upper floor. A separate back room was assigned to my servants; and as my landlady was a quiet and kind old woman, I could not have asked for better or more peaceful quarters. If anything troubled me at times, it was that in the other room across the hall my landlady kept a kind of tavern, where Dutchmen, skippers and other seafarers gathered every day and passed their time in conversation, smoking tobacco and drinking beer. The noise they sometimes made wearied me, but at least they committed no excesses or disorders, and everything with them was orderly and decent. Moreover, in return for this disturbance I had the pleasure every day of listening to fine and agreeable violin playing by my landlady’s children who lived above me. Finally, it was also pleasant to me that my quarters were directly across the street from the captain’s, and that in the same street, a few houses away, some of my best friends were quartered, especially my former companion Mr. Nepeitsyn, so that I could often see them all.

No sooner had I looked about me in these new quarters and found some free time than I set off again on journeys to inspect those places and streets of the city where I had not yet happened to be.

For several days running I scoured the city, spending them on such journeys, and came home tired half to death, and there I would at once set about my pictures and colouring them; and as the building of the box itself never left my mind, I set about making it. The circumstance that a large box of the kind I had seen in Toruń was inconvenient to carry with me on campaigns, since it alone would take up a great deal of room in a kibitka, was the reason I was obliged, for the first time in my life and willy-nilly, to become an “inventor” {French: a contriver, an inventor.} and devise a special kind of construction for this box — namely, to arrange and make it so that it could be taken apart and folded completely and, when taken apart, would occupy very little room in a trunk. I confess that, as I had never yet engaged in contrivances of this kind, the matter worried me a good deal at first; but what cannot impatient desire and curiosity overcome? Within a few days I succeeded in devising and making one such that even now I marvel how I could have made it then; for on this occasion I had to be joiner, locksmith {Locksmith.}, gluer and lacquerer all at once, since I made all the sides and walls of it from thick glazed paper. And so that they would not warp and yet could fold, I reinforced all the edges with thin wooden laths, and to join all the sides a great many little hooks, loops and staples were made. Finally I painted the whole outside with various colours, pasted it over with little cupids, birds and flowers cut out of pictures, and at last covered it with lacquer. In a word, I made a little box not only perfectly portable and neat but one I need not be ashamed to show anyone. All the officers could not marvel enough at my invention and skill and came to me in crowds to look at the pictures and admire them. And as these were not only fairly fine in themselves, depicting views of all the best places and streets of the city of Venice and of many other of the most famous European cities, but had also been painted by me true to life, they could not look at them enough, nor bestow enough praise on me for my invention and skill.

In a word, this first trial of my talent for contrivances and inventions earned me much honour in the regiment. Everyone began to regard me as a very clever fellow and inventor, and this flattered my vanity I know not how much and, giving me indescribable pleasure, spurred me on hour by hour to occupy myself still more with things of this kind. And as if to occupy me with them still more, fate, as if on purpose, soon afterwards gave me yet another occasion to see and learn many more things I had never seen, which were capable not only of entertaining me extraordinarily but of stirring my curiosity anew and arousing a desire for further inventions and for learning about matters connected with them.

In the very street where I was quartered, and not far from us, there happened to live a learned man who occupied himself with grinding lenses and making all kinds of optical machines and other physical instruments.

One of my acquaintances took me to this man, and I do not know whether I was on earth or somewhere else in those minutes when he showed me his various things and instruments, never yet seen by me. His splendid microscopes of various kinds, of which I had had no idea until then, sent me into raptures. I could not tire of looking through them for a whole hour at all the tiny objects he showed me, and especially at the extremely small animals which I saw there in a single drop of water, running and turning about in countless numbers and chasing one another. And no sooner had I sated my curious eyes with these than crystal prisms and other optical instruments and the experiments made with them threw me into new raptures and amazement; but the delight into which I was thrown by his camera obscura {An optical device for obtaining an image of objects on a flat surface. Known already to Arab scholars at the end of the first millennium AD.} I cannot possibly describe. I was truly beside myself with joy and pleasure when I saw how well and with what inimitable art nature herself can paint the most beautiful pictures on paper — and, what was most astonishing of all to me, in the most vivid colours. For a long time I did not understand where these various colours came from, until the said craftsman explained it to me in part; noticing my particular and very attentive curiosity, he did not fail to show me everything he had and to explain much by examples for my easier understanding. In a word, I shall never forget the pleasant and delightful hours I spent then in his house, and I was greatly indebted to this man, for through this he as it were opened to me the door into the temple of the sciences and gave me the desire to enter it and to find in the sciences a thousand pleasures and delights, which afterwards helped me to have so many blissful moments in the course of my life.

However, while occupied in this viewing, I was as much delighted, on the one hand, by all these sights never seen before as I was vexed, on the other, that I had so little money and was not rich enough to buy all these things for myself. Yet, poor as I was in money then, I could not part with one little box forming a camera obscura, by means of which one could with great ease draw all the natural views of houses, streets, landscapes and all other objects. I bought it from this man, and for the two chervonets I paid for it I was repaid with interest by the indescribable and abundant pleasure this box was able to give me. I could never admire enough how well all the objects on which one trained the sliding tube of this box were depicted and drawn by themselves on the ground glass, and I did not fail at once, using this instrument, to draw the view of the street visible from my windows.

This perspective picture is still intact in my possession, and I keep it as a kind of memento of that time.

But this little box gave me not only this pleasure but another as well: it gave me the idea for a new invention, namely, to make my perspective box itself perform, when desired, the office of a camera obscura; for as soon as I learned why and how a camera obscura is constructed and how all its effects come about, it was not hard for me to work out how my own box could produce the very same thing with only a certain alteration.

While I, in the manner described, was standing guard and afterwards was continually busy with the amusing occupations described above, all the other officers of our regiment, not only the young but the older ones too, were occupied with quite different affairs and concerns. Almost all of them, generally speaking, had an ardent wish to be in Königsberg that flowed from a source quite different from mine. They had heard plenty about Königsberg being a city full of everything that can satisfy and sate the passions of young men who spend their lives in luxury and debauchery: namely, that there were a great many taverns and billiard rooms and other places of amusement in it; that anything one pleased could be had there; and, above all, that the female sex there was much given to amorousness, and that there were a great many young women in it practising a dishonourable trade and selling their honour and chastity for money. This last rumour was particularly enticing to many, and they rejoiced in advance that they would have the most longed-for opportunity to sate their unbridled passions; and many marched to Königsberg intending, immediately on arrival, to find themselves good mistresses or at least to take young girls into keeping. And all this they did not fail actually to carry out. Not even two weeks had passed when, to my great astonishment, I heard that there was not a tavern, not a wine cellar, not a billiard room, not a house of ill repute left in the city that was not already known to our gentlemen officers; that not only did they have them all counted, but very many had already struck up close acquaintance, partly with their landladies and partly with other women of the place; and some had already taken them into keeping, and all of them in general were already drowning in every kind of luxury and debauchery.

My astonishment on hearing this was inexpressible, and all the greater because I heard the same about the most respectable people, whom I had thought quite incapable of such a dissolute life.

And what astonished me still more was that from these very people I no longer heard any decent or sensible conversation; all their talk and words and all their best jokes and conversations were about nothing but gaming, carousing and women. And it went so far that, forgetting all shame, they were no longer in the least ashamed to boast and brag to one another of their excesses and debauchery, and without the slightest twinge of conscience they babbled and prattled such vile nonsense as no sensible man could hear without disgust. But even that was not enough: they did worse still, and, having sunk up to their ears in iniquity themselves, they took the greatest possible pains to drag others too into the nets of the same abominable life, and not only ridiculed all those who did not follow their example but almost abused and despised them.

Forgive me, my dear friend, for telling you such vile nonsense in passing. I have done so in order to show you in what danger I then found myself, living in such a city and among people of that sort. I was at exactly the age at which men are most subject to all the ardour of amorous desires and are still far from able to master their passions and obey the precepts of sound reason; I had occasion every day to hear the most shameless and lascivious talk and to see the most seductive examples, capable of corrupting even the most virtuous of men; and, what is more, I had to endure the very mockery and taunts {Gibes, reproaches, jeers.} of all my friends and comrades because I did not join them in all their debauchery. In such circumstances, I say, might I not easily have strayed from the path of virtue and tumbled into the abyss of vice? Ah! I was indeed so close to it that very little, very little indeed, was lacking for me too to become just such a rake and debauchee, and the invisible hand of the Lord alone saved me and did not let me sink into that same mire of abominations and iniquities into which almost all our officers had plunged themselves. And truly, my dear friend, when I recall those times, even now I cannot wonder enough how I freed myself from that evil then. A whole concurrence of many different particular circumstances was needed to deliver me from the dangers by which I was surrounded, and the hand of the Lord, or rather His Providence watching over me, was obliged to tear me forcibly out of the midst of a society of people so corrupt and dangerous and, doing with me what had never even entered my mind, to give me a position and weave me into circumstances which were bound of themselves to further my salvation.

But as all this is not very clear to you, I shall explain the matter more briefly and tell you in more detail about this very important epoch of my life and about everything that then furthered my salvation.

The very first circumstance that helped me greatly at that time was the shyness and bashfulness I have mentioned before, natural and innate in me, to which I had been subject since childhood and which was still so great then that it was always a great ordeal {Properly, a commission, an assignment; here: a difficulty, embarrassment.} for me when I happened to be in the company of women I did not know and had to make conversation with them. This very thing preserved me from that boldness, brazenness {Impudence, insolence, importunity, shamelessness.} and daring which my other brother officers had and with the help of which they could at once strike up an understanding and acquaintance with women, and which led them into every debauchery. As for me, in such cases I was a veritable blushing maiden, and I felt awkward and ashamed to make even the slightest jokes and banter with them, and still less to begin taking any liberties with them. Much contributed to this, too, the fact that from childhood I had had occasion to read certain poems and love stories in which love was depicted as tender, pure and innocent, not coarse and dissolute; and, imbued with these ideas, I had the most tender, romantic notions of it, so that the way of treating women that I saw in others seemed to me too coarse, vile and base, and I could never accustom myself to the free and so insolent and shameless manner with them that others had. Indeed, it was a great ordeal for me even to begin speaking with them, especially with strangers, and I could never do even that without blushing and doing myself great violence — a trait of character which, though comical in itself, has turned to my great benefit all my life.

Another circumstance that helped me very greatly was the happy chance that in neither of my quarters was there a single young woman or girl capable of attracting the attention of a young man; and if there were women, they were all old and ugly. Through this I was by chance delivered not only from occasions of temptation, which, as is well known, act most powerfully of all and lead a man into every evil, but also from frequent visits by my comrades; for it had become their custom to go to, and to visit all the more often, whichever of their fellows had good-looking daughters of the house in his quarters, and their gatherings were usually held at such men’s lodgings.

And as there was nothing in my quarters attractive to them, they had no wish to visit me often or sit long, and if they did drop in at times, it was mostly to call me to go out carousing with them.

The third circumstance that kept me from a dissolute life was that, no sooner had I been relieved from guard, than on the following day I happened to see the funeral of a young officer of another regiment that had been stationed there before us, who had died in the most pitiful manner of a venereal disease contracted while stationed in that city. This sight, as well as the general talk and the assurances of many that hardly any of the officers who practised the same trade had remained unscathed, but that all had become subject to one or another of these vile diseases, impressed such fear and aversion upon my heart that I resolved there and then to avoid all the women of that place in every way possible and to dread them and guard against them as against some poison and contagion. And this helped me a great deal in that dangerous time and was the reason why I never agreed to keep company with my comrades, who often called me to join them, and to go with them to dubious and suspect houses, but preferred to sit at home and occupy myself with my work.

But all these circumstances, and not even my love of books and of all kinds of curious occupations, would have been able to save me from those people and from all the seductions and temptations to which I was exposed almost daily by these comrades and friends of mine, who resorted even to tricks and deceptions to entangle me in their nets, had not fate itself intervened and with an invisible hand drawn me away from the precipice on the edge of which I stood. It did this by suddenly bringing about an entirely unexpected change in my circumstances, one that separated me from my former comrades, so dangerous to me, and put an obstacle in the way of frequent meetings with them; and it brought this about in the following manner.

As the government of the whole Kingdom of Prussia then depended on us, but no particular person had yet been appointed to administer it, and there was only a rumour that a special governor would be sent, until that time all matters concerning the internal administration of that state, and especially the collection of taxes and revenues, were managed by one of our brigadiers named Numers. This man then had under his authority all the Prussian boards, colleges and chancelleries; but as they were all staffed by local judges and chancery clerks and none of our own people were with them, he had long wanted to have in the local Chamber, which had all the state revenues under its control, one of his own officers who understood German and could record all incoming receipts and expenditures and enter them in special books issued by him. He had long been looking {Properly, to think, suppose, reckon, guess; here: to search for.} for such a man, but as there was no one capable of it in the regiments stationed there before us, after our regiment arrived he began to ask about and inquire whether there was such a man among us.

It so happened that he took it into his head to speak of this with my own captain, Mr. Gnevushev, who was then acting as town major of the city, and it pleased fate that this man should recommend me for it without a second word.

Being fond of me, he told the said brigadier so much about me and my abilities that the very next day he requested me from the regiment and at once entrusted me with the commission mentioned above.

I cannot describe enough how surprised I was when I suddenly, and against all my expectation, received an order from the regiment to report to Brigadier Numers and to be carried on the regiment’s rolls as detached. I did not know then what it meant or why I was being sent to him. But as throughout my service I had made it a rule, not knowing where one may gain and where one may lose, never to push myself into any assignment of my own accord, nor to refuse wherever I was sent, I obeyed this order without demur and the very next day reported to my new commander.

Mr. Numers received me very kindly and, after talking with me a little in German, ordered me to write something; and as I wrote German fairly well, he was, so far as I could tell, very pleased with my hand. That very hour he drove with me to the Chamber and handed me over to an old councillor named Bruno, instructing him to entrust me with the business he had long since discussed with him and to keep an eye on me.

This old man seemed to me a very quiet and kindly little fellow. Having greeted me warmly, he at once took me into a separate side room next to his own and assigned me a place to sit. And as the blank books were already prepared, he showed me how and what I was to write in them and gave me all the necessary instructions, so that I had to begin my work then and there, copying out in German what was prescribed.

Thus from a military man I suddenly became a chancery clerk, or at least had to deal no longer with a musket but with pen and ink. This change was not very pleasant to me at the time. My commission, it is true, was not difficult and consisted only in copying the account sheets given me by the said old man into blank laced ledgers; but the circumstance that I had to go to the Chamber every day and sit there not only the whole morning until dinner but after dinner too, almost until evening, doing nothing but writing and copying things that would not go into my head at all and were incomprehensible to me — and, what was worse, to sit alone, in utter solitude, in a huge, dreary, dark chamber lit only by two sooty windows with iron bars, and moreover not under the windows but at a distance from them, thus sitting like a bird in a cage, and spending the finest springtime of the year not only in unceasing toil and work but in the dreariest solitude, with no one to say a word to — this circumstance, I say, was very, very unpleasant to me, especially at first, when there was a great deal of work, and more than once made me grieve for the lost freedom I had enjoyed until then and could now enjoy only on holidays and Sundays and in a few hours at midday and before evening.

For all that, this change in my circumstances was of real benefit to me, and even now I cannot thank fate enough for doing this with me then, for through it I was delivered from all my former dangers: since I was never at home, all my former friends and comrades little by little gave up coming to me again and again to visit and call me out with them to taverns and other places of amusement for carousing.

And having formed companies and gangs among themselves, they pursued their amusements and pleasures, while me, as one in a manner detached from the regiment and not belonging to their society, they left in peace and did not draw into their gangs, which pleased me greatly.

Another and most important benefit that flowed from this change was that my stay at the Chamber, as it were, paved the way for another, subsequent and far more important change, which turned to my boundless benefit, as I shall mention later in its proper place.

Thus, having become, against all expectation, detached and independent of the regiment, I began to lead an entirely new and, for me, unusual kind of life, which, though at first it seemed very dreary to me, yet, since one can grow used to anything, soon became fairly bearable, and I no longer complained of it in the least; on the contrary, growing used little by little to a quiet and solitary life, I began to find some pleasure in it too. All my time then was spent as follows. Every morning, having got up, drunk my tea and dressed, I set off for my Chamber. The distance from it to my quarters was not small, more than a verst and a half, but I usually went alone and on foot, and as, fortunately, the shortest way there lay along good streets and pavements, these walks never wearied me, and indeed this walking did much for my health. Arriving at the Chamber, I usually sat down at my table and, without leaving my place, worked right up to one o’clock. During this time only my solitude bored me a little, for the main rooms of the Chamber, where there were many clerks, were somewhat removed from where I sat, and here there were only three rooms: in one sat the said old councillor under whose supervision I was, in another myself, and in the third, a small one, the chief receiver, or taker-in, of the collected revenues. But as in German chancelleries the customs are quite different from ours, and none of the chancery staff take any liberties in conversation or pass the time in laughter and banter, but each of them sits rooted to his place and attends to his business most diligently, and with them not only is there never noise or bustle, but propriety, quiet and perfect order are observed in everything — so both my said neighbours were always so diligently occupied with their affairs that sometimes in a whole day I could not exchange a single word with them; and of entering into any conversation there could be no thought. Moreover, not only these gentlemen but all the better inhabitants of the city of Königsberg in general had a certain aversion to all of us Russians, and seemed deliberately to avoid and shun us and any confiding, frank and friendly dealings with us. It is therefore not surprising that, although I spent no little time at this post in the Chamber, and although, showing both my neighbours every possible courtesy, I tried in every way to get to know them somewhat more closely, all my efforts were in vain. They responded with similar courtesies only, but more than that I could get nothing from them; for although I daily expected that one of them would invite me, if not to dinner, then at least to a cup of coffee or tea, I could never wait to see it; and to push myself forward {To behave impudently, to become importunate.} and go to them uninvited seemed to me improper. In a word, they seemed to me veritable bears. But I found the same kind of bears among the officials at the local Rentei {Treasury.} and the salt office, to which after a few days I had to go and sit for several hours at the same sort of work, that is, recording the Rentei and salt revenues there in special books. In both these offices, which were located in the same castle as the Chamber, business was managed by two little old men, but both were even more unsociable and taciturn than my neighbours, so that from them I could expect even less kindness and friendliness than from the former.

All this greatly surprised me at first, and more than once I thought and said to myself with vexation:

“What sort of bears and devils sit here? There’s no approaching any of them, and you can’t get any friendliness or kindness out of anyone!”

But later, when I came to know the whole Prussian people and the inhabitants of Königsberg better, I ceased to wonder at it and attributed it not so much to their unsociability as to their general ill disposition towards all Russians, to whom, though outwardly they showed every respect, inwardly they regarded as their enemies, and therefore avoided friendly and frank dealings with them; and besides, their moderate and abstemious way of life, far removed from all luxury and excess, had a large share in this.

But I have strayed from the order of my narrative, and now, returning to it, I shall say that, having spent the whole morning in the manner described in unceasing and tedious writing, when twelve o’clock struck I would leave the Chamber with the others and return to my quarters. There I always found my soldier’s dinner, prepared by my servants, ready and waiting, which, though not so tasty as the imagined {Illusory, imaginary, supposed.} Prussian one, never let me rise from the table hungry. Then I at once set to drawing and, having spent an hour or more at it and at other curious occupations, when two o’clock struck I set off again for my Chamber and sat there almost until evening. After leaving it and returning home, I used to go for a stroll to the ship landing and other places nearby, especially along the bank of the river Pregel, and would watch the vessels sailing on the river and the multitude of people busy on the banks loading and unloading them. When it was a Sunday or a holiday, on which the Chamber did not sit, I spent the whole day either drawing or strolling about the whole city and all its best parts. Sometimes I went to my old colonel, who would sometimes keep me to dine with him and take me along to walk in the finest and famous Saturgus Garden there, of which I shall speak in more detail in its place. And as besides this there were other gardens in the city in which anyone might walk, I sought them out and sometimes went walking in them too. Taverns I visited very rarely, and then only to drink tea and coffee and read the foreign newspapers; and as the newspapers of that time were very interesting and I learned that they were published there in the city too, I did not fail to take them for myself and satisfy my curiosity with them.

In this way, growing used to this new and solitary kind of life, I spent several weeks in the most tranquil state and lived, one may truly say, in peace and quiet, and was content with my condition. From my former comrades I became so removed that I had no knowledge of what went on among them, and least of all tried to find out.

But now it is time for me to end my letter and tell you that I am, etc.

A DESCRIPTION OF KÖNIGSBERG

Letter 60

My dear friend! As in the course of those weeks which, while attached to the Chamber, I spent in the manner described in peace, quiet and tranquillity, I had ample time and opportunity to view and get to know Königsberg, I shall now try to make good what I omitted in the preceding letters and describe to you this Prussian capital, so that you may gain a somewhat closer idea of it.

This city lies in the middle of the whole Kingdom of Prussia and may be regarded as a seaport; for although it does not stand on the sea itself, and the open Baltic Sea is no nearer to it than seventy versts, yet between that sea lies a narrow and very long gulf called the Frisches Haff {Frisch-Haff.}, and into this gulf flows the river Pregel, on whose banks, not far from its mouth, Königsberg is built; and as this river is fairly deep, the city enjoys the advantage that all seagoing merchant vessels and galiots {A small merchant vessel, a galley.} come by the said Haff and the river right up to it and there carry on their commerce, or trade.

The said river flows right through the city, and as, at the very spot where the city is built, it divides into many branches and forms several extensive and large islands, these serve the city to its particular advantage.

Some of these flat, low-lying islands, cut through by many canals, are covered with the most beautiful hay meadows, producing the thickest, nourishing {Tasty, succulent.} and good grass, which is especially remarkable in that the inhabitants of Königsberg prepare from it a special kind of groats known among them as “Schwadengrütze” {Literally, “Swedish groats.”}. In summer, when ears grow on this grass, resembling those of our brome or our pod-bearing plants {Ear — here: a stalk, a spike; brome — a plant of the grass family with large spikelets, a fodder grass; pod-bearing — leguminous plants; rozhok — a pod.}, they beat them off with sieves and riddles and then, having dried them, hull groats from them which have a most pleasant taste in porridge. In autumn these places are covered with several thousand head of cattle and horses grazing on them. The islands nearest the city are occupied by various urban buildings, and of them especially noteworthy is the extensive round island lying in the very middle of the city, because it is entirely built up with continuous and very tall stone buildings and forms a separate and the finest part of the city.

The city is, moreover, fairly extensive, has a great number of inhabitants and is surrounded by an earthen rampart with bastions, while on the side towards the sea, on the left bank of the river Pregel, there is a small regular quadrangular fortress or citadel called Friedrichsburg, with cannon mounted all around. But all these fortifications are of no great importance; for, given the great extent of the city, keeping all the ramparts in good order would involve great expense {Costs.}, so that even with a large garrison the city could not withstand a proper and lengthy siege, and it may therefore be regarded more as an open mercantile and trading city than as a fortress. For all that, at all the entrances proper city gates had been built, and strict guards were kept at them.

As for the interior of the city, it is divided first into the city proper and several extensive suburbs, which, however, are not separated from the city by any special wall, but are enclosed together with it by the earthen rampart mentioned above, and differ from the city only in that their buildings are not so fine or so tall as in the city and consist mostly of Fachwerk, or half-timbered brick houses, whereas in the city itself there are only continuous stone houses of several storeys, packed together as closely as can be.

This inner and finer city, moreover, has three main divisions or parts, known among them as the “Altstadt,” or Old Town, the “Kneiphof,” the part that lies on the island mentioned above, and the “Löbenicht.” Each of these parts forms in a manner a separate town, for each has its own town hall, its own cathedral church, its own public buildings, its own market square and its own municipal authorities. As for the so-called suburbs, they consist of very long and fairly wide streets extending from the said main parts of the city in various directions. The chief of them are called Rossgarten, Tragheim, Sackheim, Steindamm, Haberberg and a few others.

All these suburbs, apart from a few noblemen’s houses scattered among them, consist of middling houses built only two storeys high.

The most notable of all the buildings in Königsberg may be considered the so-called castle, or palace of the former dukes of Prussia. This huge building, splendid in its antiquity, is raised on the highest mound or hill, which lies in the very middle of the city. It is quadrangular, very tall, encloses a four-sided, fairly spacious courtyard, and adorns the whole city, all the more because it is visible above all the houses from many sides, and especially from across the river. In one of its four sides, or fronts, on the second floor, are the old ducal apartments, consisting of many halls and spacious rooms, which even in our time were hung with the same old woven tapestries that were there when the sovereign Peter I was received in them, when he travelled with Lefort through various lands in the suite of the embassy; and in these apartments the Prussian kings take up residence when, after accession to the throne, they come to Königsberg to receive the oath of allegiance, which splendid ceremony is performed in the said courtyard inside the castle {Königsberg was the place where the Prussian kings were crowned.}. At other times these apartments were occupied by the chief governors and commanders of the troops stationed in the kingdom, as, before our entry, their field marshal Lehwaldt lived in them. For all that, in all these apartments there is not only no great magnificence of furnishing, but they are rather low, dark and extremely cheerless, which perhaps gave the former sovereigns of Prussia the idea of rebuilding one, the best, corner of the castle and adding two more huge storeys on top. But it is not known why both these storeys were left somehow entirely unfinished, only roughly worked; and in the following years we ourselves took pains to finish and furnish one of these storeys in such a way that no one, not even kings themselves, need be ashamed to live in it. On the ground floor of this front were storerooms, kitchens, guardrooms and, finally, at the corner, the very Chamber to which I used to go.

The two other, lateral fronts contained a great many rooms, partly standing empty and partly occupied by various chief civil administrations and government offices, while some rooms served as magazines for storing various goods.

As for the last, fourth front, lying opposite the ducal apartments, its whole interior is occupied by a single enormous Kirche, or court church, in which divine service was held twice every Sunday and a great multitude of people gathered.

Finally, at one corner of this front rises an extremely tall and very massive square tower, without any spire or dome; on its flat top only a large banner or flag was displayed.

There, right under the top, are small rooms, and in them several trumpeters and other musicians live permanently. Their duty consists in keeping a continuous watch at the top of the tower and looking out for any fire breaking out anywhere; and as soon as they spot one, from that moment they begin to play special fire and alarm calls on their trumpets. And so that the people could see and know from afar in which direction the fire was, by day they tilt the said banner towards that side, and at night they thrust out towards that side a pole with a large lantern hanging from it, by which the people learn in which direction they must run to put out the fire. We ourselves had occasion to see this during several fires that broke out while we were there, and it must be admitted that this institution of theirs is praiseworthy and good.

Besides this, it is worthy of note that beneath this tower, in that very corner, they have a public and ancient library, occupying several spacious halls and filled with several thousand books. These books are for the most part old and partly manuscript, and I had occasion to see some very rare ones, written by monks of old in a very clean and neat semi-uncial {See note 14 after the text.} hand, adorned with various figures and ornaments in the most vivid colours. And what was more astonishing, many of them are chained to the shelves by long iron chains, to the end that anyone could take them from the shelf and examine and read them at will, but could not steal them and carry them off. In summer this library was opened on certain days every week, and anyone was free to come in and sit there even the whole day reading any book he liked; they only watched that no one carried any of them off. And so that everyone could make more convenient use of this reading, long tables with benches around them had been set up in the middle of the hall, and many, especially learned men and students, did indeed take advantage of this permission, and I happened to find ten or twenty of them there at a time, engaged in reading.

Besides books, certain other rarities are shown in this library, but very few; and the most noteworthy were the portraits of Martin Luther and his wife Katharina von Bora, which, we were assured, had been painted from life.

Finally, there are only two entrances and gateways into this castle: one from the front side, large, like a city gate, dark, beneath the halls; and the other under the church, small and as it were secret. And besides these there was an outer porch with a portico leading to the Chamber, for more direct access to it.

In front of the castle, moreover, was a small square, from which three large and several small and crooked streets ran in various directions.

One of the large ones ran off to the side, around the castle, towards the Steindamm suburb, and is notable for having the finest and largest stone houses, belonging to the most eminent Prussian grandees and to several princes and counts; the other, leading to the Rossgarten suburb, was called French Street and is memorable partly because all the French lived in it and kept the finest French shops with all kinds of goods on the ground floors of their houses, and partly because it was built on a very wide dam of a very long and very wide pond in the middle of the city, not far from the city, formed by damming a small stream that flows into the Pregel from the side. This street was very handsome and so built that one could never tell it was on a dam, for behind the continuous stone buildings the water could not be seen at all. As for the third large street, it ran downhill into the part of the city called the Altstadt.

As regards these main parts of the city, the first, called the Altstadt, or Old Town, lay below the hill between the castle and the river Pregel and consisted entirely of very tall, narrow stone houses of several storeys, built continuously facing one another, divided into several blocks by narrow, dark and for the most part crooked streets, such as were customary everywhere in old European cities. In the middle of this part was a fairly spacious, oblong quadrangular square, surrounded on all sides by the same continuous tall houses. This square is memorable in that at its end are the finest rows of shops with various goods, while on the square itself every week, on Saturdays, markets were held for meat and other provisions. On these days the square was quite unrecognizable, for within an hour it was entirely built over with a multitude of small wooden but neat collapsible stalls, which towards evening were all taken down again, and by Sunday the square was cleared so that not a single speck of litter remained on it. This custom seemed very strange to us at first, but afterwards we could not admire it enough.

Among the most notable public buildings in this part may be counted, first, their cathedral church, or Kirche, which, though old, built in the Gothic taste with a very tall spire, contained a very rich organ, worth several tens of thousands and well worth seeing; second, the principal town hall {The building of municipal self-government.}, a fairly large and orderly building erected right beside the square. To keep guard by it they had several dozen aged town soldiers, at whose peculiar and comical uniform we could not laugh enough. Third, beside the same square they had the so-called civic town house, containing several rooms and one enormous hall, in which public assemblies and celebrations were held, as well as wedding balls, as will be mentioned later when I come to tell particularly of these weddings.

As for the second part, called the Kneiphof, it is much more notable and finer than the first, mentioned above.

It lies, as has already been mentioned, entirely on an island, surrounded on all sides by water, and is separated from the Altstadt only by a narrow branch of the river Pregel. Its buildings too are continuous and of stone, with narrow streets, but these streets are somewhat straighter; and as all the richest merchants live there, there are a great many fine houses. But no street is so worthy of note as the so-called Long Kneiphof Street, which our people nicknamed Millionnaya. It cuts through the whole of this part lengthwise and connects with both bridges that link the island with the Altstadt and the Haberberg suburb, one of which is fixed and the other a drawbridge for letting ships through. The name of this street is not unfitting, for many of the merchants living on it are millionaires, and the street may be regarded as the finest and richest in the whole city; but here too the houses are all continuous, old-fashioned, very tall — five or six storeys — and extremely narrow, and only its width and straightness lend it its best colour.

The main church of this part stands in the middle of the island and is memorable in that the former dukes of Prussia and the most eminent people were buried in it, and that it is adorned with many beautiful mausoleums and tombs and hung with many trophies and banners. At its front end, behind the altar, there is a latticed iron partition, and behind it, in the middle of a spacious niche, rises a tall and wide quadrangular tomb, on top of which lies one of the old rulers of Prussia, full length, together with his wife. But this mausoleum is far from being as fine as another, located in the church itself, by the wall. Here, behind a gilded grille, lay above his grave one of the most ancient Prussian grandees, who had been chancellor of state, carved with most wonderful art at full length out of the whitest marble. He is depicted lying, as if alive, on his side, in the kind of dress worn in those days, and, propped on one hand, as though deep in thought. All this is depicted so skilfully that one cannot admire it enough; and in the wall opposite this place is set a black marble slab with a Latin epitaph in gold. This Kirche, moreover, though huge, was very old, built in the Gothic taste.

Not far from this church stood the famous University of Königsberg and, near it, the houses of its professors and other learned men.

But this university could arouse no wonder either by its exterior or its interior, for its building was of the plainest and oldest, and even the auditorium was of no consequence. For all that, in substance this university was not among the least, and a great many people of every rank studied in it, among them many of noble birth.

The town hall of this part of the city, and the civic house too, were of no great consequence; more worthy of note was the exchange, built on the bank next to the green drawbridge. It consisted of a very large hall with windows almost all the way round, and in it all the merchants gather to talk with one another about trade.

As regards the third main part of the city, which bears the name of Löbenicht, it lies next to the Altstadt and is the least worthy of note of all. I found nothing special in it except a Catholic monastery and church, fairly large and far more richly adorned than the Lutheran ones.

Having thus told of the main parts of the city, I shall now say something of the suburbs and of what is noteworthy in them. The best and largest of them may be considered the Haberberg, that is, the one beyond the river, because it forms a whole part of the city and has a wide and very long street which around St. Peter’s Day is filled with countless multitudes of people, because at that time the annual fair is held there, of which I shall have occasion to speak elsewhere. Besides, in this suburb there is also the Jewish synagogue, a quite handsome stone building.

The Steindamm suburb has nothing special in it except its Kirche, which is memorable in that it is the most ancient, and was later converted by us into our Russian church.

The Sackheim suburb is not memorable in itself, but between it and the Tragheim suburb there was a parade ground, which deserves some note. It is a fairly spacious, level place overgrown with meadow grass, very suitable for drilling and exercising troops, and so our troops usually drilled there. Besides this, it is memorable in that a fine stone horse mill with many sets of stones {Postav — a pair of millstones.} has been built on it, in which sixteen horses work without cease.

The Tragheim suburb is memorable, first, for containing many gentlemen’s houses, quite handsome and large; second, for its advantageous position beside the large pond mentioned above, which lies between it and the Rossgarten suburb.

The upper part of this beautiful pond, which resembles more a small long lake, is surrounded by continuous gardens lying behind the houses of both these suburbs, and the lower part by continuous stone houses built right down to the water; while in the middle, to connect the two suburbs, there is a very long, narrow bridge for pedestrians only.

As for the said Rossgarten suburb, it is worthy of note both for its size and its gardens, and no less for the many noblemen’s houses in it, of which there are also a great many along the street leading towards Gumbinnen, where, among other things, there is the royal palace too — which, however, was then a very small stone house of the kind of which several hundred could be found in our Moscow, and it stood empty. At the end of this long street is the orphanage, a handsome but not very large stone building.

Besides all these and certain other suburbs, also deserving some note is the one that stretches along the bank of the river Pregel opposite the fortress, which was the very one where I had my quarters, for our regiment was quartered entirely in the suburbs mentioned above. It is memorable both for the ship landing in it and for the shipyard, and no less for the Speicher mentioned before {German: a storehouse, granary.}, or magazines for grain, salt and other bulk goods unloaded from barges. And as this whole suburb lies below the hill on low and level ground, it is cut through by many fairly wide canals, whose water connects with the river Pregel. The blocks between these canals are in some places built up with houses, in others planted with gardens, and in others merely lined with trees and containing the finest meadows; but none of them is so memorable as the one on which lies the garden of a very rich merchant named Saturgus. This garden, though not very extensive, may be regarded as the finest in all Königsberg, for it is not only laid out regularly but adorned with every possible ornament. The owner, being a curious, learned and wealthy man, filled it with many rare things. He has there a rich orangery, packed with various foreign plants; there is a menagerie, or aviary and animal enclosure, in which many rare foreign birds and small animals are kept; there are many pretty little houses and pavilions. In one of them is a small Kunstkammer, or a fairly complete natural history cabinet. And as this was the first time I had occasion to see such a thing, I could not admire enough the sight of the multitude of rare things never before seen by me, and especially the enormous collection of various ores, fossils, stones, various shells, various birds’ eggs, various stuffed birds, and above all the very large collection of little pieces of amber with tiny flies and bugs inside them, with which a whole chest of drawers of his is filled and whose number runs to several thousand. Another little house, in which he usually entertained his guests, is decorated instead of wallpaper with pictures in which real butterflies are mounted under glass, and of these I saw a countless multitude there.

As for the garden itself, it is filled with countless flowers and fine fruit trees, and the walls are covered with very tall peach and apricot espaliers.

There are also many trees clipped into various figures, and all the open spaces are adorned with many handsome fountains. The water for these fountains is drawn by pumps from the canal beside the garden into a large lead basin hidden in a pretty tower built specially for the purpose at the corner of the garden, at the foot of which is a handsome pavilion containing a carillon worked by the same water. All these sights had never been seen by me before, and so every time I happened to be in this garden they gave me much pleasure.

It may be said, moreover, that this city has abundance in everything, and its inhabitants live fairly well, but moderately and almost without any excess. No great extravagance or immoderation is noticeable among them. All the best people lead a sedate life, more secluded than is needful; they have extremely few carriages and rich equipages, and everyone mostly goes on foot. In their houses they keep very few servants. The cooking is usually done by women, who themselves buy all that is needed for the table and at the same time perform the duty of footmen: when their mistresses take it into their heads to go to church, or visiting somewhere, or for a stroll somewhere in summer, they escort them and walk behind them, which at first greatly surprised us. The only thing I did not like was that their houses, especially in the better parts of the city, are very cramped and uncomfortable; rarely does one occupy five sazhens in width, and most are no more than two or three sazhens wide; moreover, all the rooms in them have windows on one side only, and very few are lit by three windows — most have two, for both side walls, because of the continuous building, are usually blind.

This shortcoming they make up for by the height of the building and the number of storeys, each lower than the one beneath. But this brings with it the inconvenience that one must always go up to the upper storeys by a dark and most awkward winding staircase, groping one’s way; for as on each floor they have only two rooms, one with windows onto the street and the other to the back, between them there is a dark little hall where this staircase runs and where, at the same time, there are small hearths on which they cook their food. Very few houses have courtyards, and those very cramped, while others, though they have them, have the most cramped of all, and even these are entered only through the house, with no proper gates; and they serve mostly for storing firewood. The entrances to the houses are everywhere from the street, and the doors into the hall are always split in two, not lengthwise but crosswise, so that the upper half can be open by day to let light into the hall while the lower is closed to keep anyone from coming in.

It is worthy of note, moreover, that in their finest street, Kneiphof or Millionnaya, the porches of the best houses are all made of wood, yet almost never rot, and look like cast iron, so that one cannot possibly tell that they are wooden.

This they achieve by coating them every two or three years with boiled pitch and then sprinkling them with iron scale {Fine fragments that fall off when iron is forged.} from the smithies, which produces on them, as it were, a cast-iron crust that keeps them from rotting from rain and bad weather. The number of all the houses in the city amounts to 3,800, and of inhabitants to 40 thousand {For comparison, the number of inhabitants of Königsberg in 1911 is of interest: 246 thousand.}.

Walking and driving about the city is fairly comfortable, because all the streets are paved with rough stone and this pavement is always kept in good repair; and at night, especially in autumn and winter, all the streets are lit by lanterns. In the narrow city streets, however, there is the vexing inconvenience that at night all kinds of filth and refuse are thrown out of the houses into the streets; although this is cleared away and carted off daily by special people appointed for the purpose, it often causes a bad smell and stuffiness that taints the air, and because of this the ground-floor rooms are usually very dreary and, owing to the narrowness of the streets, dark.

There are 18 churches in all in Königsberg, of which 14 are Lutheran, 3 Calvinist and 1 Roman Catholic. Most of them are built in the Gothic taste, with very long spires on their bell towers; but there are also some without them, erected in the taste of the new architecture, though not many.

This town is fairly well supplied with water, for, besides the river Pregel and the said pond, a great many wells have been made in all the streets, over which little structures like sentry boxes and turrets have been built and pumps installed, and the water is drawn by working a handle at the side.

Besides this, there are several large windmills in this city, fairly well constructed, and in addition a fine water mill with many sets of stones, built on the stream on which the pond lies, below the dam, and so hidden that it cannot be noticed at all.

This will be enough for the present by way of an account of this city, for the rest will be mentioned in more detail later, on other occasions. In my next letter I shall return to the broken thread of my narrative and tell you what further happened to me in this city and what gave rise to the second change in my circumstances, from which flowed consequences that had the very greatest influence on the whole welfare of my life. And as my present letter has already grown too long, allow me to end it here and, assuring you of my unfailing friendship, to tell you that I am ever yours, etc.

END OF PART FIVE.

(To be continued.)

SOURCE:

Болотов А. Т. Жизнь и приключения Андрея Болотова: Описанные самим им для своих потомков: В 3 т. Т. 1: 1738-1759 / Вс. ст. С. Ронского; Примеч. П. Жаткина, И. Кравцова. -- М.: ТЕРРА, 1993.

Some of the omitted chapters were added from:

Edition: А. Т. Болотов в Кёнигсберге (Из записок А. Т. Болотова, написанных самим им для своих потомков). Калининград, Кн. Из-во, 1990.

The remaining chapters were added from the first edition of the “Notes” (Supplement to “Russkaya Starina,” 1870).

Translated from Russian with the help of AI (Claude, Anthropic), October 2026.