BISMARCK TO HIS SISTER.
Petersburg, 19 (31) March, 1859.
Since early the day before yesterday, I have been warmly and dryly lodged here, in the Hotel Demidoff; but I did not get here without great exertion. Scarcely had I left Königsberg, eight days ago, than a lively snow storm began, and since then I have not seen the natural color of the earth’s surface. At Insterburg we began only to make a mile an hour with couriers’ horses. At Wirballen I found a mail-post carriage, the interior of which proved too narrow for my stature; I therefore changed places with Engel, and made the whole journey on the outer seat, open in front: a narrow bench, with an acute-angled back, so that it was impossible to sleep at night, without reckoning the temperature, which reached 1.2°. In this condition I remained from Wednesday morning early until Monday evening, and, except during the first and last nights of railroad, I have only slept once for three hours, and once for two hours on the post-station sofa. The skin of my face peeled off when I arrived. The journey was so long, in consequence of the deep snow, which had newly fallen, and the want of a sledge-road; several times we were obliged to get out and walk, eight horses being unable to drag the carriage forward. The Düna was frozen, but about half a mile farther up there was free water, by which we passed; the Wilna drifted with ice, the Niemen was open. Horses, however, were scarce, as each post required eight and ten instead of the usual three and four. I have never had less than six, although the carriage was not heavy. The guard, postilions, and outriders did their utmost, so that I set my face against horse-slaughtering. The icy hills, were the greatest obstacle; the four hindmost horses, on one occasion, all tumbled over into a tangle—but the outriders on the right of the two foremost never stumbled—and hardly had they arisen than they went forward, in full career, with the fully-laden carriage, down hill and over bridges, at the top of their wind, amidst shouting and whipcord. They fell, only at step; but had they stumbled amidst the verst-long gallops on any declivity, we should have been the real —— of Prince ——! Well! it is over, and I enjoy the fun of having passed through it. The Neva here is like granite; but since yesterday there has been sunshine and thaw. It is well known that the town is handsome; but were I to abandon myself to the sentiment of wonder, it would arise from the extraordinary animation of the streets; despite their width, it requires good drivers to wind their way at a proper pace, carriages are so numerous; the sledges disappeared yesterday. My commissions were completed the day before yesterday; my address for —— was written down the Chancery, as I had arrived unexpectedly.
1st April.—On writing this date, it occurs to me that to-day is my birthday, the first I ever spent amidst a rattling frost—for that has again set in—and, for twelve years, without Johanna. Yesterday I had a long audience of the Empress-Mother, and was delighted with the aristocratic nobility of the venerable lady. To-day I saw the Czar; so that on my birthday I enter upon my new functions. The day before yesterday the Emperor shot two bears. Unfortunately, it is now all over with Petz; he will not allow himself to be attacked, or rarely. The new snow has been, as it were, swept away by three days of thaw; the whole country is said to be free. Business is just beginning. Loving letters to-day from Johanna and the children.
BISMARCK TO HIS WIFE.
Moscow, 6th June, 1859.
I will try to give you a sign of life, at least, hence, while I am awaiting the samovar (tea-urn), and behind me a young Russian, red-shirted, is troubling himself with entirely fruitless attempts to heat the stove; he sneezes and sighs, but it won’t burn. After having recently complained so much of the scorching heat, I woke up this morning, between Twer and here, and thought I was dreaming when I saw the country, with its fresh verdure, covered, far and near, with snow! I never wonder at any thing now; so, when I had satisfied myself that there was no doubt about it, I turned quickly on the other side to sleep and roll on, although the play of colors, green and white, was not without their charm in the redness of the dawn. I do not know whether it has melted away at Twer, but here it is gone, and cold drizzling rain is rattling on the green leads of the roofs. Green, truly, is the body-color of the Russian. I slept some forty miles out of the hundred to this place; but the other sixty miles showed me nothing but every shade of green. I did not notice cities and villages, or even houses, excepting at the stations; thick-set woods and birches cover morass and hill; some fine grass crop between, and long meadows. Thus it is for ten—twenty—forty miles. I do not remember to have noticed the bramble, and no sand; but lonely cows or horses grazing raised an idea that men were not far off. Moscow, from above, looks like a sown field—the soldiers green, the cupolas green, and I do not doubt that the eggs before me were laid by green hens. You probably know why I am here; I have asked myself, and immediately received the reply that change is the soul of life. The truth of this profound remark becomes remarkably intelligible after living ten weeks in a sunny hotel apartment, with the aspect of paving-stones. Besides, the joys of changing apparel, when they repeat themselves frequently, become somewhat deadened; I therefore determined to deny them to myself, gave all the papers to ——, to Engel my keys, declared that I would return in a week to the Stenbock house, and drove to the Moscow terminus. This occurred yesterday at noon, and at eight this morning I descended at the Hotel de France. I will now visit a pleasant friend of earlier days, living some twenty versts off in the country; to-morrow evening I shall be here again; Wednesday and Thursday I shall devote to the Kremlin and such matters; and Friday or Saturday shall sleep in the beds which Engel will purchase in the mean time. To harness slowly, and drive rapidly, lies in the character of this people; I ordered the carriage two hours ago; to every inquiry I have had put at ten minutes’ interval, for the last hour and a half, the reply is, “Directly!” with stolid, friendly quietness; and so it remains. You know my pattern-like patience in waiting, but every thing has its bounds: presently we shall dash along, so that carriage and horses will break down in these bad roads, and we shall end our journey on foot. In the interval I have had three glasses of tea, destroyed several eggs, and the requirements of fuel have been so fully answered that I feel a desire for fresh air. Had I a looking-glass, I should shave from very impatience. This city is very spacious, and very strange, with its churches with green roofs and innumerable cupolas; far different from Amsterdam, although both are the most original cities I have ever seen. The amount of luggage brought here in the coupée no German conductor could divine. No Russian travels without two pillows, children in baskets, and masses of provisions of every kind. From politeness, I was complimented with a sleeping coupée, where I was worse situated than in my arm-chair. I am really astonished at making a journey under such circumstances.