290 A Day at the Head-Quarters of QSept. 



capital early in November, with the intention of reaching Vienna by 

 way of Poland. It was on a bitter cold night that I reached the town 

 of Lomza, at that time the head-quarters of the Russian invading army 

 of Poland. The north wind howled mournfully through the pine-wood 

 which skirted the town ; and as I descended at the Hotel de I'Empereur, 

 I mentally resolved to make that posada my own head-quarters for a day 

 or two, for the double purpose of recruiting from the fatigue of thir- 

 teen days' and nights' incessant travelling — and of renewmg my ac- 

 quaintance with an old travelling companion, the young Count D , 



who I knew was attached to the staff of Field- IMarshal Count Diebitch. 



Early the following morning, I despatched a note to my military 

 friend, announcing my arrival, and had scarcely finished sipping my 

 second cup of coffee, when in stalked to my apartment a tall cossack 

 orderly, whom the count had sent to conduct me to his quarters. It was 

 with some difficulty, under the escort of my cossack guide, that I suc- 

 ceeded in making the place d'arrnes ; for a superb division of Russian 

 light cavalry was at the moment defiling through the town. Traversing 

 the square, we reached a large and ancient edifice, situated at the north- 

 ern extremity, formerly the residence of a Polish starate, but now the 

 quarter-general of Count Diebitch. Ascending a lofty flight of steps, we 

 entered a wide and spacious hall. The scene which suddenly burst on 

 my view was picturesque in the extreme. 



The sides of the hall were decoi-ated with rich and curious specimens 

 of ancient armour, which contrasted singularly with the arms and accou- 

 trements of the modern warriors who were assembled beneath its lofty 

 roof. Standing in groups, or lounging up and down with a listless air, 

 their spurred heels clangoring on the marble pavement, you beheld the 

 steel-clad curassier of the guard, the graceful hulan, and the cossack of 

 the Don, picturesquely grouped with the sable-clad yager, or the moi*e 

 gorgeously attired hussar ; while the stream of mellow light, reflected 

 through the high-painted window, imparted to the whole a character of; , 

 savage grandeur, which I shall not easily forget. 



Passing onwards, we entered a large apartment, filled with general 

 and staff officers. Among the latter I immediately recognized my young 

 friend, who immediately introduced me to the group of officers with 

 whom he had been conversing. One of these — a remarkably tall, hand- 

 some man, with his breast covered with a profusion of decorations — was 

 General Count Giesmar, the quarter-master-general of tlie army. The 

 ceremony of inti'oduction was scarcely finished, when a door opened, 

 and an officer, dressed in a double-breasted green frock-coat, with scar- 

 let cuffs and collar, the shoulders surmounted with rings, similar to those 

 worn by the officers of our own household-troops, entered the apartment. 

 He wore an infantry sword, and a single ribbon decorated his button- 

 hole. This was the celebrated conqueror of Turkey — General Count 

 Diebitch. All present uncovered, and saluted him with profound respect. 

 Advancing to the spot where we stood, he entered into conversation 

 with General Geismar ; and, during a pause, my friend seized the 

 opportunity of introducing me to the marshal. He received me with the 

 most distinguished urbanity of manners — spoke of the fatigue I must 

 have undergone in travelling at that inclement season — and finished by , 

 inviting me, in the most condescending manner, to dine with him that 

 day. As I gazed on the man who had played so distinguished a part 

 on the theatre of events, I was struck with the absence of all those 



