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Lady Craven was the daughter of the fourth Earl of Berkeley; she was born in 1750, and in 1767 she was married to William Craven, afterwards the sixth Earl of Craven.

She and her husband did not agree; in 1780, after she had borne six children, they separated and Lady Craven left England. In the following years she travelled extensively: in a series of letters to her great friend the Margrave of Anspach she described France, Italy, Austria, Poland, Russia, Turkey and Greece, which she visited in turn. She published the letters in London in 1789.

Lord Craven died in 1791, and Lady Craven married the Margrave, whose wife had died shortly before.

From about 1777 until long after her marriage with the Margrave Lady Craven managed to attract a great deal of ill-natured scandal. Her beauty may have had as much to do with this as anything else, although it must be allowed that she was uncommonly indiscreet: she was exceptionally beautiful, as one may see from the portraits by Sir Joshua Reynolds, Romney and Vigée le Brun.

Lady Craven wrote some plays and her memoirs. Walpole, who admired her very much, printed her comedy The Somnambule at Strawberry Hill. Her memoirs appeared in 1826; if you enjoy reading the Lady Craven of the travels it is a mistake to read the Margravine’s memoirs.

Lady Craven died at Naples in 1828.

This extract is taken from A Journey through the Crimea to Constantinople. In a Series of Letters from the Right Honourable Elizabeth Lady Craven, to his Serene Highness the Margrave of Brandebourg, Anspach, and Bareith. Written in the Year MDCCLXXXVI. London: Printed for G. G. J. and J. Robinson, Pater Noster Row. MDCCLXXXIX. In order to get Lady Craven to her journey’s end it was necessary to cut quite a lot out of her account, particularly the extraneous matter, like her copied history of the Crimea. It was a pity, but without it she would have been too long for inclusion. In this case I have not put in the usual dots—the scars of editing—which point the excisions, partly because they spoil the continuity of the text, which I have endeavoured to preserve, and partly because they would conflict very much with Lady Craven’s own system of punctuation.

VIENNA, DECEMBER 14, 1785

I CAME, as I told you I was advised, by a new road; but I should imagine from the difficulties I met with it was the worst,—It is true, some of them were owing to rivers, which, swelled by the late rains, are become torrents which have carried whole villages and many miles of the road before them—

I set out from Venice on the 30th of last month, going by water to Mestre, where my coach and horses met me—

Trevisa, which is the place I next slept at, I arrived at with much difficulty; my coach drawn with ten horses and four oxen—and you can form to yourself no idea of the obstinacy, and provoking phlegm of a German postillion or postmaster—At one place, tired of the snail-like pace I went, I hired a traineau of a peasant, and went on before my carriage—It seems there is an order at every frontier town in Germany, not to suffer strangers who travel without post-horses, to leave the town without staying in it two hours—this the German postmaster did not choose to tell me—nor did he refuse me another traineau and horses, but sat with two other fat Germans playing at cards, without deigning to give me any other answer than Patienza, to any thing I could say to him—when I recollect the scene of these three fat men playing at cards, their figures, and all I said in Italian to persuade the man and his patienza I could die with laughing; however, in about an hour, an officer came in; who looking at me some time, said, Parlez vous Français?—Mon Dieu, oui Monsieur, says I; and I found, the post-master’s deafness proceeded from his not being able to talk Italian very well, French not at all—so he took me for an impatient boy—and sent me to Coventry—When the gentleman called me Miladi, these three fat Germans deigned to look at me, for I must tell you that in this country, the respect paid to our sex is such, that it is enough for a woman to speak, she is obeyed immediately—and I had a traineau—and six horses for my coach ready in an instant. One night I slept at Klagenfurt, a large town, where one of the Emperor’s unmarried sisters lives—I am arrived here at last, through a very beautiful country; but must observe, that whoever wrote L. M.—’s Letters (for she never wrote a line of them) misrepresents things most terribly—I do really believe, in most things they wished to impose upon the credulity of their readers, and laugh at them—The stoves of this country, which she praises so much, are the most horrid invention you can conceive. The country people in Germany seem to fear the cold very much; the casements of their windows are double; and there being no chimney in the rooms, there is no vent for fumes of any sort—so that the breath of the inhabitants of them rests in drops of steam on all the tables, etc. and the stink and suffocating heat that assails the traveller’s senses when he enters any room, particularly where people are, cannot be conceived. I do not believe the German women, of the lower order, are very gentle tempers—for several of them flew into the most violent passions, when I opened a door or window—and shut them again immediately—My only resource upon these occasions was to go out into the yard—

In this town, the German ladies are handsome, accomplished, and civil to a degree you have no idea of; several of them, besides possessing many other languages, read, write, and speak English well; most of the Germans are naturally musicians, and I am sure a young Englishman, with good manners, may every evening here pass his hours in a circle of handsome and accomplished women of the first rank—I have seen no place yet I should so much wish my son to come to as Vienna—Sir Robert Keith assures me he has presented above four hundred noblemen and gentlemen, young countrymen of mine, and has never had reason to complain of them, while we hear and see constantly the follies of the Anglais at Paris, where they go to ruin themselves, equally with the Duchesse or the fille d’opera, and only to be laughed at.

The ladies are tall and fair—more handsome than pretty—There is a great supper at Prince Galitzin’s every Sunday night; and at Prince Par’s every Monday; the first is the Russian minister, who does great honour to his court, by his sense and politeness here—

P.S. I cannot help adding, that the questions asked travellers by the guards at the frontier towns are most ridiculous—are you married or not?—Do you travel for your pleasure or upon business?—Your name and quality?—It put me in mind of a story told me by the Russian Minister at Venice, of a traveller who being asked his name, answered Boo hoo hoo hoo hoo—Pray, Sir, says the guard, how do you write that? That, Sir, replied the traveller, is your business, I have told you my name;—It is impossible, I think, to answer gravely to questions so perfectly absurd.

VIENNA, DECEMBER 15, 1785

I went with Madame Granieri, the Sardinian Minister’s wife, to court. Nothing is more striking, than the variety of the officers’ dresses in the Emperor’s antichamber—The Hungarian and Polish I think beautiful, and I now am strengthened in the opinion I always had, that every nation ought to preserve the fashion of their country—and there is no necessity for mankind to ape one another in dress—

The Emperor gives a private audience for ladies that are presented to him. There was only myself and the lady who accompanied me that went into his room together. The Emperor was close to the door, and after bowing very civilly, he made us sit upon a sofa, and stood the whole time himself; I stayed three quarters of an hour; there is no occasion to fear staying too long; for when he cannot spare any more time for the audience, or for any other reason chooses to end it; he very civilly says, he will detain you no longer; you then get up, and go to the door, which he opens himself—and thus ends the presentation—The Emperor is like the Queen of France, and the only thing that genéd me at all was his not being seated—He converses politely and agreeably—

The first minister here, Prince Kaunitz—is a very extraordinary personage; he is reckoned an able minister and a good patriot; I see in him all that sincerity and frankness which are the constant attendants on a mind truly great—and I believe the welfare of the people at large is his delight; for he asked me what I thought of Vienna; I told him that I had not time to make many observations, but that there was an air of plenty and comfort among the lower sort of people very striking; même les vendeuses de pommes ont l’air aisé mon Prince; on my saying this, there was a smile upon his countenance, which I am sure came from his heart; and he condescendingly told me several particulars relative to the markets and provisions, one of which I cannot help thinking very necessary in all large cities—which is, that there is an inspector of the garden-stuff—another for meat—and so on, for all provisions exposed to sale; and if they are not found perfectly good they are flung away—And now we are upon the subject of provisions, I must say, that I never saw such a profusion of things, and those so excellent in their kind, as are served up at the tables here—Green peas, artichokes, and asparagus, I eat every day—The crawfish are as large as the Chichester lobsters; and the pheasants from Bohemia have a flavour you can form no idea of—Yet I do not think the people are gourmands; but they pique themselves on having the greatest abundance and the best sort of eatables of every kind. The forests and rivers of this country do not in a small degree contribute to the possibility of these things—for with us, our cooks cannot produce wild boar and venison, gelinottes, and coqs de bruyères; or crawfish as big as lobsters—

There is one thing here that shocks me, and that is, that every lower class of women paint white—and that even girls of ten years old going of errands in the street are painted—What their reason for so doing is I cannot guess; for the Germans are generally fair.

There are great assemblies here as in London; and I repeat it, there are women here with whom I could pass my life—They have not the cold silent reserve of English women, nor the impertinent interêt for me, of the French ladies—

The public works (such as sweeping the streets, etc., etc.) are done by malefactors, who, chained two and two, perform their task attended by a guard—

P.S. You cannot buy a drug at the apothecaries here, without an order from a physician—A very prudent caution against the madness of those who choose to finish their existence with a dose of laudanum, or their neighbours with one of arsenic—

WARSAW, JANUARY 7, 1786

I got away as fast as I possibly could from Vienna; for if I had staid a week longer, I am convinced I should have staid the whole winter—

WARSAW, JANUARY, 1786

The entrance into the town of Cracow exhibits a melancholy proof that confusion ever ends in ruin—The system of government in Poland is of all others the surest source of confusion that ever yet was imagined by mankind—an elected King from the noble families, most of which think they have a right to royalty, and several really are entitled to it—

Dirty suburbs filled with Jews—and the Emperor’s eagle, are the only objects that precede the gates of Cracow—these gates are pierced by many a ball …

I had letters for several Polish ladies at Cracow—but I staid only to rest myself, and get a traineau made; for I was told I might go thus—but a couple of miles from the town I was obliged to take my coach off the sledge; and here I must observe, Sir, that the Prince Galitzin at Vienna, was very much mistaken, when he told me, he should advise me to have just such a coach as mine made, if I were not already mistress of such a one—

I hung more than once upon fir-trees; the track of the road being too narrow for my wide carriage—and when travellers come into Germany—I think they ought to part with their French and English carriages—as the carriages of our northern countries are liable to inconveniences and accidents—

I staid two hours one night, so fastened with the hind-wheel upon a fir-tree, that six men could not stir it—and peasants were called to cut down the tree—before I could proceed—

When I arrived at Warsaw, I found my apartments had been warmed and ready two days before my arrival; the Comte de Stackelberg having bespoke them, by the desire of Prince Galitzin—and the Russian Minister C— de S— waited on me—He is sensible, and even witty—he presented me to the King, the day after my arrival, in the evening—The King received us in his study; I was accompanied by the Grand Marechal’s wife, who is one of the King’s nieces—You, Sir, do not speak better French and English than that amiable Sovereign—he told me he had been in England thirty years past, and asked me if Mr. W— [alpole] was still living—not only living I replied, Sir; but in good spirits; for I have a charming letter in my pocket from him—He said, if there was nothing imprudent in his request, he would ask to see it. He imagined Mr. W.’s stile must be uncommon; I gave him the letter—he put it in his pocket after reading it, and told me, as his sister, the Princess of Cracovia did not understand English, he should translate it into French for her; and if I would dine with him two days after, he would read me his translation, which indeed surprized me—He must be a very elegant writer in every language he chooses to profess—I wish I had dared to have asked him for a copy—

I make visits in a new stile here—in the Comte de Stackelberg’s coach and six—and a couple of equerries at the two coach windows on horseback—The Polish ladies seem to have much taste—magnificence—spirit and gaiety—they are polite and lively—excessively accomplished—partial to the English.

I have seen several dwarfs here—who with equerries stand in drawing-rooms of the great houses, and hear all the conversation that passes—an uncomfortable custom I think; and which in any other country would be dangerous; but here servants and dependants are the absolute property of the master—and their fidelity in general is equal to their subjection; to the credit of the Polish nobles, I believe there are few servants that, having proved for eight or ten years their attachment, are not dismissed with a pension for life. I found the French maid, the Princess C—had from me, in this situation; nine years service had obtained a hundred pounds a year, and a farm of sixty acres of land for the rest of her life—she seems the happiest creature in the world—

I am sorry to quit this place so soon; not that there is anything in this flat country that would tempt me to see the beauties of it in the spring—but the King’s acquaintance, with that of some of the ladies—and Monsieur de Stackelberg’s conversation, I am sorry to quit.

PETERSBURGH, FEBRUARY 8, 1786

The road between Warsaw and this place is one insipid flat—except just in and about the town of Nerva, where I took a sledge and flew hither.

I am something like a country Miss, gaping at the window all day here—every creature that goes about the streets, seem as if they were in a violent hurry—they drive full gallop—traineaus with one horse ply at the corners of the streets as do our hackney-coaches and chairs—Mr. S— informed me, it belonged to my dignity to have six horses to my coach, in order to pay my visits; and I beg you will imagine my surprise, when I found I had a coachman on the box, with three postillions, one to each pair of horses—and these sitting on the right-hand, I go thus, full gallop, running races with every other attelage that falls in my way—the streets are luckily wide—and custom makes the danger less than one should imagine.

PETERSBURGH, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1786

I was to have been presented to the Empress next Sunday—but she graciously sent me word to come to the Hermitage on Thursday, where she keeps her court in the evening every week—and has alternately a French play or an Italian opera—I cannot conceive why this building which she has added to the palace is called the Hermitage; it is a long suite of rooms, full of fine pictures. You are not ignorant, dear Sir, of the many collections the Empress has purchased; among the rest Lord Orford’s; Petersburgh is a chearful and fine looking town; the streets are extremely wide and long—the houses stucco’d to imitate white stone; none above three stories high—which certainly adds to the lively and airy appearance of them—I think, Sir, that not only the town, but the manner of living is upon too large a scale; the nobles seem to vie with one another in extravagancies of every sort, particularly in foreign luxuries and fashion—The fashion of the day is most ridiculous and improper for this climate; French gauzes and flowers were not intended for Russian beauties—and they are sold at a price here which must ruin the buyers.

There are buildings erected for the reception of Arts and Sciences of every kind; for artists or amateurs, though but the surplus of Italy, France and England, would find handsome encouragement and house-room from the Empress, whose respect for talents, and generosity to those who possess them, have induced some, and would many more, to fix in the present capital of this vast empire; but alas! Sir, eight months of winter; and the horrid cold I feel, must congeal the warmest imagination.

From Cherson, the new town on the Turkish frontiers, which is one thousand six hundred miles from hence, are brought many provisions; from Archangel likewise this town is provided, and from Astracan on the Caspian Sea, near two thousand miles, all the dainties, such as grapes, pease, beans, artichokes, are brought—It is natural to suppose, that the necessaries of life are dear, from these circumstances; but some of them are extremely cheap—and I believe Russia is one of the cheapest countries in the world to live in; if French wines and fashions, and English comforts can be dispensed with—To these last I never felt so much attachment as at this moment—Dans le Ligne Anglais, a quarter of this town, where the English merchants live, I find English grates, English coal, and English hospitality, to make me welcome, and the fire-side chearful—

We are in the last part of the carnival and balls; those given by the Ambassadors are very superb—Mr. de Segur, and the Duc de Serra Capriola, the Neapolitan Minister, have each given one in a very magnificent style—

I was presented to the Grand Duchess the same night that I waited upon the Empress—She has since been brought to bed—There are some young Russian ladies very pretty and much accomplished—many of them sigh after a different climate from their own—here the houses are decorated with the most sumptuous furniture from every country—but you come into a drawing-room, where the floor is of the finest inlaid woods, through a staircase made of the coarsest wood in the rudest manner, and stinking with dirt—The postillions wear sheep-skins—and at a ball, when a nobleman has proposed his hand to a fair lady—he often kisses her before the whole company—

You may have heard much of Prince Potemkin; I see him everywhere, but he is reserved and converses very little with ladies—I was invited by him to dine in an immense palace he is building in the suburbs; the only room finished is too particular not to be described; it is three hundred feet in length, and on the side opposite the windows there are two rows of stone pillars, whose height and breadth are proportioned to the immense size of the room, which is an oblong square; in the centre of which on the side where the windows are, it is formed into a semi-circle or what we call a bow—which bow forms another large space independent of, though in the room; this space was laid out by his English gardener into a shrubbery with borders of flowers, hyacinths, and narcissuses—myrtles, orange-trees, etc., etc. were in plenty—We were seven or eight ladies, and as many men—immense stoves concealed by the pillars, were heated in order to make such a hall in such a climate supportable—but I came home quite ill with cold—It was there I heard that extraordinary music performed by men and boys, each blowing a straight horn adapted to their size—sixty-five of these musicians produce a very harmonious melody, something like an immense organ. The music, the room, the cold, all was gigantic. I sat by Prince Potemkin at dinner; but except asking me to eat and drink, I cannot say I heard the sound of his voice—

Justice obliges me to say, the Empress does all she can to invite politeness, science and comforts from other countries, to cheer these regions of ice—but, until she can alter the climate, I believe it is a fruitless trial—I am informed the spring, or rather the time of year we call spring, is more melancholy than winter here, so I shall hasten my departure; but a conversation I had with the Swedish Minister, a few days past, will make me give up entirely the thoughts of returning into Germany through Sweden and Denmark—I shall in my next have the honour of repeating it to you.

I promised to give you an account of the conversation with the Minister, here it is—

M. S— I have been told, that Miladi wishes to do me the honour of consulting me upon the journey she is about to take.

M— Yes, Monsieur, people say that it is very risky to traverse these ice fields, and I desire to know how to do so because, whichever way I go, I wish to travel mostly in a traineau, as I detest the jolting of an ordinary carriage, and find a traineau very agreeable—

M. S— Does Miladi know that, to travel from here to Sweden, a third horse is harnessed in front of the two others; at a very considerable distance in the dangerous parts—

M— What do you mean by dangerous parts?—

M. S— Where the ice is liable to break—and the horse is harnessed with very long cords; he is called the enfant perdu—because, if the ice cracks, the cords are quickly cut; the horse disappears for ever, and the travellers retrace their steps—

M— As I have never started on a voyage in order to retrace my steps, and as it seems that I run the risk of becoming an enfant perdu myself, if I undertake this journey—I will put off my visit to your country for another occasion, Monsieur l’Ambassadeur; and so we talked of other things—

I shall now prepare every thing to visit the Crimea or rather the Tauride; I have been told it is a very beautiful country; and I confess I am not sorry this enfant perdu gives me a good excuse for turning my steps towards Constantinople—

I am speaking without any partiality, dear Sir; but I do not see here the prejudices of the English, the conceit of the French, nor the stiff German pride—which national foibles make often good people of each nation extremely disagreeable. I am assured the Russians are deceitful—it may be so; but as I do not desire to have intimacies, I am much better pleased to find new acquaintances pleasant and civil than morose or pert—

P.S. I am not a little surprised to hear people say: I shall inherit so many hundred peasants, or such a one lost a village—it is the number of men, and not of acres, that make a fortune great here; so that a plague or any distemper that would prove mortal to the peasants, would be death to the nobles’ pockets likewise—

The Vicechancellor, Comte d’Osterman, is obliged to have a table for sixty foreigners every Wednesday; and a widow, Princess de Galitzin, a supper once a week—at Mons. d’Osterman’s too, a ball every Sunday night. The Empress is at the expence of these dinners and suppers—and, I confess, I think it an excellent and royal idea, to be certain of having houses open for the entertainment of foreign ministers and strangers of distinction—There is a custom here which I think very abominable; noblemen, who are engaged to marry young ladies, make no ceremony, but embrace them in the midst of a large company at a ball—

I have mentioned to a few people my intention of seeing the Crimea; and I am told that the air is unwholesome, the waters poisonous, and that I shall certainly die if I go there; but as in the great world a new acquired country, like a new beauty, finds detractors, I am not in the least alarmed; for a person, not a Russian, who has been there on speculation, has given me so charming a description of it, that I should not be sorry to purchase a Tartarian estate.

MOSCOW, FEBRUARY 29, 1786

I left my coach at Petersburgh, and hired for myself and my small suite, the carriages of the country, called Kibitkas; they are exactly like cradles, the head having windows to the front which let down; I can sit or lay down, and feel in one like a great child, very comfortably defended from the cold by pillows and blankets—These carriages are upon sledges, and where the road is good, this conveyance is comfortable and not fatiguing; but from the incredible quantity of sledges that go constantly upon the track of snow, it is worn in tracks like a road; and from the shaking and violent thumps the carriage receives, I am convinced the hardest head might be broken. I was overturned twice; the postillions I fancy are used to such accidents; for they get quietly off their horse, set the carriage up again, and never ask if the traveller is hurt—Their method of driving is singular; they sit behind three horses that are harnessed abreast—a shrill whistling noise, or a savage kind of shriek is the signal for the horses to set off, which they do full gallop; and when their pace slackens, the driver waves his right-hand, shrieks or whistles, and the horses obey. I would never advise a traveller to set out from Petersburgh as I have, just at the end of the carnival; he might with some reason suppose it is a religious duty for the Russian peasant to be drunk; in most villages I saw a sledge loaded with young men and women in such a manner, that four horses would have been more proper to draw it than one, which wretched beast was obliged to fly with this noisy company up and down the village, which is generally composed of houses in straight rows on each side of the public road—The girls are dressed in their holiday-clothes, and some are beautiful, and do not look less so from various coloured handkerchiefs tied over their forehead, in a becoming and pittoresque manner. The Russian peasant is a fine, stout, straight, well-looking man; some of the women, as I said before, are uncommonly pretty; but the general whiteness of their teeth is something that cannot be conceived; it frequently happened that all the men of the village were in a circle round my carriages—and rows of the most beautiful oriental pearl cannot be more regular and white than their teeth—It is a matter of great astonishment to me, how the infants outlive the treatment they receive, till they are able to crawl into the air; there is a kind of space or entresol over every stove, in which the husband, wife and children lie the greatest part of the day, and where they sleep at night—the heat appeared to me so great that I have no conception how they bear it; but they were as much surprised at me for seeking a door or window in every house I was obliged to go into, as I could possibly be at their living in a manner without air. The children look all pale and sickly, till they are five or six years old. The houses and dresses of the peasants are by no means uncomfortable; the first is generally composed of wood, the latter of sheep-skins; but trees laid horizontally one upon another makes a very strong wall, and the climate requires a warm skin for clothing—It might appear to English minds, that a people who are in a manner the property of their lord, suffer many of the afflictions that attend slavery; but the very circumstances of their persons being the property insures them the indulgence of their master for the preservation of their lives; and that master stands between them and the power of a despotic government or a brutal soldiery. Beside, my dear Sir, the invaluable advantage which these peasants have, as in paying annually a very small sum each, and cultivating as many acres of land as he thinks fit, his fortune depends entirely upon his own industry; each man only pays about the value of half-a-guinea a year—If his lord would raise this tax too high, or make their vassals suffer—misery and desertion would ruin his fortune, not theirs.

MOSCOW, MARCH 3, 1786

I believe I have not told you, that I am possessed of all the instructions to proceed upon this new journey in a very pleasant manner. The commanders at Krementchouck and at Cherson are informed of my intention to proceed to Perekop, where I shall enter into that peninsula called the Tauride … in which there is at present about thirty thousand of the Empress’s troops, including five thousand Cossacks in her pay; which I am very curious to see. The Khan’s palaces, noble Tartar houses, and others are prepared for her reception, in which I am assured I shall be received and treated perfectly well—

CHERSON, MARCH 9, 1786

I was obliged to put my kibitkas on wheels at a vile little town called Soumi, before I arrived at Pultawa—Notwithstanding there might have been many things worth stopping to look at in the immense town of Moscow, I was so impatient to meet the spring, that I would not send my name to any person whose civilities would have obliged me to stay. I cannot say that Moscow gives me any idea than of a large village, or many villages joined, as the houses stand at such a distance, and it is such a terrible way to go to visit things or people, that I should have made as many long journeys in a week, as there are days in one, had I staid—What is particularly gaudy and ugly at Moscow are the steeples—square lumps of different coloured bricks and gilt spires or ovals; they make a very Gothic appearance, but it is thought a public beauty here; a widow lady was just dead, who having outlived all the people that she loved, she left an immense sum of money to gild with the purest gold, the top of one of the steeples—

At Soumi I conversed with a brother of Prince Kourakin’s and a Mr. Lanskoy, both officers quartered there; and to whom I was indebted for a lodging: they obliged a Jew to give me up a new little house he was upon the point of inhabiting—The thaw had come on so quickly that I was obliged to stay two days while my carriages were taken off the sledges—

There is no gentleman’s house at Pultawa; I slept at my banker’s, and walked all about the skirts of the town—

CHERSON, MARCH 12, 1786

This place is situated upon the Dneiper, which falls into the Black sea; the only inconvenience of the Docks here is that the ships, when built, are obliged to be taken with camels into that part of the channel deep enough to receive them—The town is not at present very large, though there are many new houses and a church built after pretty models; good architecture of white stone—There are no trees near this place; [Colonel] Korsakof is trying to make large plantations; the town is entirely furnished with fuel by reeds, of which there is an inexhaustible forest in the shallows of the Boristhenes, just facing Cherson—Rails, and even temporary houses are made of them—Korsakof, and a Captain Mordwinof, who both have been educated in England, will, I have no doubt, make a distinguished figure in the military annals of Russia; Mordwinof is a sea-officer, and superintends the ship-building here—there are some very pretty frigates on the stocks. Repninskai is the governor’s name, and he has a young wife, who is very civil; my lodging is a large house built for a Greek Archbishop—but, being empty, was appropriated to my use: I have remonstrated here, but in vain, against having centinels, and the guard turning out as I pass through the gates. The Emperor’s Consul has a wife who wears a Greek dress here; I think it by no means becoming—I have nothing but maps and plans of various sorts in my head at present, having looked over all such as my curiosity could induce me to ask for—The fortifications and plantations are executed here by malefactors, whose chains and fierce looks struck horror into my heart, as I walked over them, particularly when I was informed there are between three and four thousand—

Mordwinof informs me, the frigate which is to convey me to Constantinople is prepared, and is to wait my pleasure at one of the seaports in the Crimea, and that the Comte de Wynowitch, who commands at Sevastopole has directions to accommodate me in the best manner—

KARASBAYER, APRIL 3, 1786

I went in a barge for about two hours down the Boristhenes, and landed on the shore opposite to that on which Cherson stands. A carriage and horses belonging to a Major who commands a post about two hours drive from the place where I landed were waiting, and these conveyed me to his house, where I found a great dinner prepared, and he gave me some excellent fresh-butter made of Buffalo’s milk; this poor man has just lost a wife he loved, and who was the only delight he could possess in a most disagreeable spot, marshy, low, and where he can have no other amusement but the troops—From thence I crossed the plains of Perekop, on which nothing but a large coarse grass grows, which is burnt at certain periods of the year—All this country, like that between Cherson and Chrementchruk, is called Steps—I should call it desert; except where the post-horses are found, not a tree not a habitation is to be seen—But one thing which delighted me much, for several miles after I had quitted Cherson, was the immense flocks of birds—bustards, which I took at a certain distance for herds of calves—and millions of a small bird about the size of a pigeon, cinnamon colour and white—droves of a kind of wild small goose, cinnamon colour, brown, and white.

Just without the fortress of Perekop I was obliged to send one of my servants to a Tartar village to get a pass; the servant whom I sent, whose ridiculous fears through the whole journey have not a little amused me, came back pale as death—He told me the chiefs were sitting in a circle smoking, that they were very ill black-looking people—I looked at the pass, it was in Turkish or Tartarian characters. I saw there two camels drawing a cart—This village gave me no great opinion of Tartarian cleanliness, a more dirty miserable looking place I never saw—The land at Perekop is but six miles across from the sea of Asoph, or rather an arm of it called the Suash, to the Black Sea—The Crimea might with great ease be made an island; after leaving Perekop, the country is exactly like what we call downs in England, and the turf is like the finest green velvet—The horses flew along; and though there was not a horse in the stables of the post-houses, I did not wait long to have them harnessed; the Cossacks have the furnishing of the horses—and versts or mile-stones are put up; the horses were all grazing on the plain at some distance, but the instant they see their Cossack come out with a little corn the whole herd surrounds him, and he takes those he pleases—The posts were sometimes in a deserted Tartarian village, and sometimes the only habitation for the stable-keeper was a hut made under ground, a common habitation in this country, where the sun is so extremely hot, and there is no shade of any sort. To the left of Perekop I saw several salt lakes about the third post—it was a most beautiful sight. About sun-set, I arrived at a Tartarian village, of houses or rather huts straggling in a circle without fence of any kind—I stopped there and made tea; that I might go on, as far as I could that night—You must not suppose, my dear Sir, though I have left my coach and harp at Petersburgh, that I have not all my little necessities even in a kibitka—a tin-kettle in a basket holds my tea equipage, and I have my English side-saddle tied behind my carriage—What I have chiefly lived upon is new milk, in which I melt a little chocolate. At every place I have stopped at I asked to taste the water from curiosity, I have always found it perfectly good—

I can easily suppose people jealous of Prince Potemkin’s merit; his having the government of the Tauride, or commanding the troops in it, may have caused the invention of a thousand ill-natured lies about this new country, in order to lessen the share of praise which is his due, in the attainment of preservation of it—but I see nothing at present which can justify the idea of the country’s being unwholesome.

KARASBAYER, APRIL 4, 1786

About half an hour after ten last night I ordered my servants not to have the horses put to, as I intended to sleep; I had not an idea of getting out of it, as our Post was a vile Tartar village; in a few minutes the servants called me, and said, the General’s nephew and son were arrived to meet me, and very sorry to find I had quitted Perekop, as they had orders to escort me from thence. I opened my carriage and saw two very pretty looking young men; I told them I should certainly not think of detaining them; and we set off, nor did I suspect that there were any persons with me but them: at — o’clock I let down the forepart of my carriage to see the sun rise; when, to my great surprise, I saw a guard of between twenty and thirty Cossacks, with an officer, who was close to the fore-wheel of the carriage; upon seeing me he smiled and pulled off his cap—his companions gave a most violent shriek, and horses, carriages, and all increased their pace, so that the horses in the carriage behind mine took fright, ran away, and running against my carriage very nearly overturned it; and when I asked what occasioned this event, I found my Cossack escort, seeing my carriage shut, thought I was dead; as a Cossack has no idea that a person in health can travel in a carriage that is not open, and the shout I had heard, the smile I had seen, was the surprise they had felt, that the young English princess, as they called me, was alive; as they believed it was only my corpse that was conveying to Karasbayar to be buried—They always ride with long pikes, holding the points upwards; the Tartars ride with pikes, but they hold the ends of theirs to the ground—About six I passed the Tartar town of Karasbayar, lying to the left—and arrived at the General’s house, a very good one, newly built for the reception of the Empress; the General Kokotchki, his brother the governor, and almost all the general officers were up and dressed, upon the steps of the house I found myself in my night-cap, a most tired and forlorn figure, in the midst of well-powdered men, and as many stars and ribbons around me as if I had been at a birthday at St. James’s—I retired but rose again at one, dressed and dined, and looked about me; this house is situated near the river Karasou or Black-water, which bathes the lawn before the house, and runs in many windings towards the town; it is narrow, rapid, and very clear; this is a most rural and lovely spot, very well calculated to give the Empress a good opinion of her new kingdom, for so it may be called. I had a Cossack chief presented to me, a soldier-like white-haired figure, he wore a ribband and order the Empress had given him set round with brilliants—The general told me he was sorry he was not thirty years younger, as the Empress had not a braver officer in her service—In the evening, in an amazing large hall, several different bands of music played; and I heard the national songs of the Russian peasants—which are so singular that I cannot forbear endeavouring to give you some idea of them—One man stands in the midst of three or four, who make a circle round him; seven or eight make a second round those; a third is composed of a greater number; the man in the middle of this groupe begins, and when he has sung one verse, the first circle accompany him, and then the second, till they become so animated, and the noise so great, that it was with difficulty the officers could stop them—What is very singular they sing in parts, and though the music is not much varied, nor the tune fine, yet as some take thirds and fifths as their ear direct, in perfect harmony, it is by no means unpleasing—If you ask one of them why he does not sing the same note as the man before him—he does not know what you mean—The subjects of these ballads are, hunting, war, or counterfeiting the graduations between soberness into intoxication—and very diverting. As these singers were only young Russian peasants, they began with great timidity, but by little and little ended in a kind of wild jollity, which made us all laugh very heartily—The Governor’s residence is not here, but at a place called Atchmechet; he is only come here to meet and conduct me through the Crimea; he is a grave sensible mild man. I am told he has conciliated the Tartars to their change of sovereign very much by his gentleness and firmness—To their honour, I find none would stay who could not bear the idea of taking the oaths of allegiance—but are gone towards Mount Caucasus—They have repented since, but it was too late—All the country here is downs except the borders of vallies, where rice is cultivated, and what the Tartars call gardens, which I call orchards—I cannot tell you, Sir, with what respect and attention I am treated here, and how good-naturedly all the questions I ask are answered—

There is an Albanian Chief here, though his post is at Balaklava, a sea-port; he is distinguished by the Empress likewise for his bravery; his dress differs much from the Cossack; it is something like the ancient Romans—he is an elderly man too. In a day or two I shall take my leave of this place for Batcheserai, the principal town and formerly the chief residence of the Khans.

APRIL, 1786

In the evening I went in a carriage with the governor and general to Karasbayar—and on the road saw a mock battle between the Cossacks—As I was not apprised beforehand, I confess the beginning of it astonished me very much—I saw the Cossack guard on each side the carriage spring from their stirrups, with their feet on the saddle and gallop away thus with a loud shriek—The General smiled at my astonished looks—and told me the Cossack Chief had ordered an entertainment for me—and desired me to get out and stand on the rising part of the down, facing that where a troop of Cossacks was posted—which I saw advancing with a slow pace—a detached Cossack of the adverse party approached the troop, and turning round sought his scattered companions, who were in search like him of the little army—they approached, but not in a squadron, some on the left, some on the right, some before, some behind the troop—a shriek—a pistol fired, were the signals of battle—the troop was obliged to divide in order to face an enemy that attacked it on all sides—The greatest scene of hurry and agility ensued; one had seized his enemy, pulled him off his horse, and was upon the point of stripping him^fn1, when one of the prisoner’s party came up, laid him to the ground, remounted his companion, and rode off with the horse of the first victor—Some flung themselves off their horses to tear their foe to the ground—alternately they pursued or were pursuing, their pikes, their pistols, their hangers all were made use of—and when the parties were completely engaged together, it was difficult to see all the adroit manoeuvres that passed—

I arrived at the town, and was led to the Kadi’s house, where his wife received me, and no male creature was suffered to come into the room, except the interpreter and a young Russian nobleman only twelve years of age. This woman had a kind of turban on, with some indifferent diamonds and pearls upon it. Her nails were dyed scarlet, her face painted white and red, the veins blue; she appeared to me to be a little shrivelled woman of near sixty, but I was told she was not above fifty—She had a kind of robe and vest on, and her girdle was a handkerchief embroidered with gold and a variety of colours—She made me a sign to sit down; and my gloves seeming to excite much uneasiness in her I took them off—upon which she drew near, smiled, took one of my hands between her’s, and winked and nodded as a sign of approbation—but she felt my arm up beyond the elbow, half way up my shoulder, winking and nodding—I began to wonder where this extraordinary examination would end—which it did there—Coffee was brought, and after that rose-leaves made into sweetmeats—both of which the interpreter obliged me to taste—the sweetmeats are introduced last, and among the Orientals they are a signal that the visit must end—Our conversation by the interpreter was not very entertaining—A Tartar house is a very slight building of one story only—no chair, table, or piece of furniture in wood to be seen—large cushions are ranged round the room, on which we sat or reclined—As the visit was at an end, I curtsied and she bowed.

BATCHESERAI, APRIL 8, 1786

In my way hither I dined at the Cossack Chief’s post—and my entertainment was truly Cossack—a long table for thirty people—at one end a half-grown pig roasted whole—at the other a half-grown sheep, whole likewise—in the middle of the table an immense tureen of curdled milk—there were several side-dishes made for me and the Russians, as well as the cook could imagine to our taste—The old warrior would fain have made me taste above thirty sorts of wine from his country, the borders of the Don; but I contented myself with three or four, and some were very good. After dinner from the windows, I saw a fine mock battle between the Cossacks; and I saw three Calmoucks, the ugliest fiercest looking men imaginable, with their eyes set in their head, inclining down to their nose, and uncommonly square jaw-bones—These Calmoucks are so dexterous with bows and arrows that one killed a goose at a hundred paces, and the other broke an egg at fifty—The young Cossack officers tried their skill with them, but they were perfectly novices in comparison to them—they sung and danced, but their steps and their tones were equally insipid, void of grace and harmony.

When a Cossack is sick he drinks sour milk for a few days, and that is the only remedy the Cossacks have for fevers—

At night I lodged at a house that had belonged to a noble Tartar, where there is a Russian post, with about twelve hundred of the finest men I ever saw, and uncommonly tall. A Tartarian house has always another building at a little distance from it, for the convenience of travellers or strangers, whom the noble Tartar always treats with the greatest hospitality—Here the General parted from us. I proceeded in the Governor’s carriage with him thus far; the rest of our company went to see Kaffa or Theodosia. I go to meet them tomorrow, at a place called Mangouss—We had only two Cossacks with us, as the General, to please the Tartars, never is escorted by a military party. Batcheserai is situated in so steep a valley, that some of the hanging pieces of rock seem ready to fall and crush the houses—About a mile from the town on the left, I saw a troop of well-dressed Tartars, there were above a hundred on horseback; the Kaima-Kan^fn2 was at the head of this company, who were come out to meet and escort us, but I who did not know this, asked the Governor if there was a Russian post here, which there is above the town, of a thousand men—There are five thousand Tartar inhabitants here; I do not believe there was a man left in his house, the streets being lined with Tartarian men on each side; their countenances were very singular, most of them kept their eyes fixed on the ground, as we passed; but some just looked up, and, as if they were afraid of seeing a woman’s face uncovered, hastily cast their eyes downward again; some diverted at the novelty, looked and laughed very much—There is a great trade here of blades for swords, hangers, and knives—I am assured many made here are not to be distinguished from those of Damascus—

The Khan’s palace is an irregular building, the greatest part of it is one floor raised upon pillars of wood painted and gilt in a fanciful and lively manner—the arch, or last doorway, has fine proportions, a large inscription in gilt letters is the chief ornament—I am told it was perfectly in ruins, but the Governor has had it repaired, new gilt, and painted for the Empress’s reception—Court within court, and garden within garden, make a variety of apartments where the Khan walked from his own residence to the Harem, which is spacious and higher than the other buildings—What I thought pretty enough was that several of the square places under his apartment were paved with marble, and have in the centre fountains which play constantly—My room is a square of more than forty feet, having two rows of windows one above the other on three sides, and it was with difficulty I found a place to have my bed put up in—

I never saw such a variety of colours—different coloured gold and silver mixed together—The Kaima-Kan, and two other principal Tartars, supped with us, and I find nothing can exceed the ignorance and simplicity of these people—The Kaima-Kan is the Khan’s first minister—He is totally ignorant of the geography of his own country; and says that England and Petersburgh are the same thing—I am to dine with his sister tomorrow; she is married to a rich Tartar, who has given a certain yearly sum to possess, solely, the profits of the soap mines—For among the excellent productions of this peninsula, there is a mine of earth exactly like soap, and reckoned very good for the skin—the Turkish women consume a great quantity of it at Constantinople—and I am told this Tartar makes an immense income from it—I saw from the windows a kind of dome which raised my curiosity, and I am told it is a monument built to the memory of a Christian wife, which the Khan loved so tenderly that he was inconsolable for her loss; and that he had placed it there, that he might have the satisfaction of looking at the building which contained her remains. This Tartar Khan must have a soul worthy of being loved by a Christian wife I think—

SEVASTOPOLE, APRIL 12, 1786

I have been at Soudak, where the foundations yet remain of a very large town, which was rebuilt by the Genoese, on the descent of steep rocks—

To the left of the town there is a fine harbour—it is upon this southern part of the peninsula that vines are cultivated, and grow wild in great abundance—at present only a few private people there have vineyards of their own—There is little good wine made, and the Empress has indeed a Frenchman who seems to care only about the strength of the wine being sufficient to make brandy, which he distils in great quantities—He is settled at Soudak at present, and probably will make a great fortune, but not teach the culture of vines to the Russians—From Soudak I went to Atchmetchet, the residence of the Governor—

I find a thirty-six gun frigate, under the disguise of a merchant-ship, had been fitted out for me, and had been ready above a fortnight; I crossed an arm of the sea in the Comte de Wynowitch’s barge to arrive here—

There were several Turkish boats in the harbour, but there was a line on the shore marked with fires which they were not permitted to pass—The Turks came to sell oranges, and every precaution is taken to prevent their communicating the plague; so that although they may come on shore, they are obliged to heap their oranges within the space allotted to them, and bargain at a distance—We were above thirty people at table, and I returned with my company to Sevastopole in carriages—I called just now the Turkish vessels boats—but I am told they are ships—a most dangerous sort of conveyance for men or merchandise in my opinion—long, narrow, and top-heavy—The frigate prepared for me seems a good ship—the three sea-officers who go with me, have never been at Constantinople; we go as merchants, for by a treaty between the Porte and Russia, trading vessels may come from the Black Sea into the Canal of Constantinople, but not men of war. We have a Greek pilot on board, who is to steer us safe, please Heaven. I am told we are not to be much more than two days in our passage.

PALAIS DE FRANCE, PERA, APRIL 20, 1786

I am safely arrived, dear Sir, and hasten to inform you how I made my voyage. I set out the 13th at five in the morning; Mr. de Wynowitch took me out of the harbour in a small frigate, and after seeing me safe in my cabbin took leave. He gave me a royal salute, and as his guns fired, we set sail with a fair wind; we had not been two days at sea before we were becalmed; and we lay three days and three nights, wishing for wind, which came on at last very fresh with rain—On the seventh day, the Greek pilot, the only person on board who had ever been at Constantinople, was dead drunk and incapable of speaking, much less of steering the ship—The officers were greatly alarmed, and there was a long consultation between them and the rest of the company—I luckily had a small map of the Black Sea, and the entrance of the Canal—which alone was our guide—As to me I had dressed myself in a riding habit, and had a small box in one hand, an umbrella in the other, and had told the captain I was determined to get into the boat and land on the Turkish shore, rather than lose sight of the Canal, or sail into it without being quite sure that we were right—There is a large rock on the European shore, which is so far distant from it that, unless a map or pilot directs the mariner, he must infallibly take it for the entrance of the Bosphorus, and several hundreds of Turkish boats are wrecked upon it yearly.

The gentlemen and officers stood all the morning upon deck, watching the shore; we had ran then above ninety leagues to the left, always seeing land, which was owing to the currents which had taken our ship during the three days calm, so much more to the right—As to me I stood between decks till the Captain told me to come and look at a village, church, or something—it was a Turkish Minaret, and a few moments afterward we saw that rock I dreaded so much, upon which there are about a thousand Turkish vessels that perish constantly every year, as the Turks forget as they leave it to the left in coming out, they must leave it to the right in going in—

To return to my voyage, Sir: you may judge how infinitely comfortable I felt, in being at anchor about six in the evening; escaped from all the dangers I had been threatened with upon the Black Sea; and the ugly circumstance that attended us when we were about to take our leave of it. I had so many birds, among which was a most beautiful milk-white small heron, that had taken refuge in the ship, that my cabbin looked like a bird-shop—We supped on board very comfortably, and I took some hours rest; and the next morning we put ourselves in the long-boat, and were rowed to Mr. de Bulkalow’s house at Bouyukdere, but he was at Pera, so we were rowed by a Turkish boat down to Pera—The Bosphorus takes a sudden turn at Bouyukdere—I refer you to Mr. Gibbon, Sir, for his account of the singular situation of Constantinople, my pen will repeat feebly what he has described in language majestic as the subject deserves—But I am certain no landscape can amuse or please in comparison with the varied view, which the borders of this famed Straight compose—Rocks, verdure, ancient castles, built on the summit of the hills by the Genoese—modern Kiosks^fn3, Minarets, and large platane-trees, rising promiscuous in the vallies—large meadows—multitudes of people, and boats swarming on the shore and on the water; and what was particular, nothing to be seen like a formal French garden—The Turks have so great a respect for natural beauties, that if they must build a house where a tree stands, they leave a large hole for the tree to pass through and increase in size, they think the branches of it the prettiest ornament for the top of the house. The coast is so safe that a large fleet of Turkish vessels is to be seen in every creek, masts of which are intermingled with the trees, and a graceful confusion and variety make this living picture the most poignant scene I ever beheld.

Judge of Mr. de Bulakow’s surprise, when he had opened his letters and read my name; he had scarcely time to offer me his services, when Mr. de Choiseul’s people came and claimed me from their master, who had been prepared for three weeks before for my arrival, by Mr. de Segur at Petersburgh; and I confess, from the character I had heard of him, I was not at all sorry that he claimed my society as his droit—And now I have heard him speak, I am extremely glad that I am to profit by his conversation and company, both of which are as much to be desired as talents and politeness can make them. Adieu for today—I am sun-burnt, tired, but likewise pleased beyond measure—yes, Sir, pleased to be here, and to call myself by the honoured name of

Your affectionate sister,

E. C—.