Success was not always with me. I had the misfortune to be overpowered
by numbers, to be made prisoner of war; and, what is worse, but always
usual among the Turks, to be sold for a slave. In that state of
humiliation my daily task was not very hard and laborious, but rather
singular and irksome. It was to drive the Sultan's bees every morning to
their pasture grounds, to attend them all day long, and against night to
drive them back to their hives. One evening I missed a bee, and soon
observed that two bears had fallen upon her to tear her to pieces for
the honey she carried. I had nothing like an offensive weapon in my
hands but the silver hatchet, which is the badge of the Sultan's
gardeners and farmers. I threw it at the robbers, with an intention to
frighten them away, and set the poor bee at liberty; but, by an unlucky
turn of my arm, it flew upwards, and continued rising till it reached
the moon. How should I recover it? how fetch it down again? I
recollected that Turkey-beans grow very quick, and run up to an
astonishing height. I planted one immediately; it grew, and actually
fastened itself to one of the moon's horns. I had no more to do now but
to climb up by it into the moon, where I safely arrived, and had a
troublesome piece of business before I could find my silver hatchet, in
a place where everything has the brightness of silver; at last, however,
I found it in a heap of chaff and chopped straw. I was now for
returning: but, alas! the heat of the sun had dried up my bean; it was
totally useless for my descent; so I fell to work and twisted me a rope
of that chopped straw, as long and as well as I could make it. This I
fastened to one of the moon's horns, and slid down to the end of it.
Here I held myself fast with the left hand, and with the hatchet in my
right, I cut the long, now useless end of the upper part, which, when
tied to the lower end, brought me a good deal lower: this repeated
splicing and tying of the rope did not improve its quality, or bring me
down to the Sultan's farm. I was four or five miles from the earth at
least when it broke; I fell to the ground with such amazing violence
that I found myself stunned, and in a hole nine fathoms deep at least,
made by the weight of my body falling from so great a height: I
recovered, but knew not how to get out again; however, I dug slopes or
steps with my finger-nails, and easily accomplished it.
Peace was soon after concluded with the Turks, and gaining my liberty I
left Saint Petersburg at the time of that singular revolution, when the
emperor in his cradle, his mother, the Duke of Brunswick, her father,
Field-Marshal Munich, and many others were sent to Siberia. The winter
was then so uncommonly severe all over Europe that ever since the sun
seems to be frost-bitten. At my return to this place I felt on the road
greater inconveniences than those I had experienced on my setting out.
I traveled post, and finding myself in a narrow lane, bade the postilion
give a signal with his horn, that other travelers might not meet us in
the narrow passage. He blew with all his might; but his endeavors were
in vain; he could not make the horn sound, which was unaccountable, and
rather unfortunate, for soon after we found ourselves in the presence of
another coach coming the other way: there was no proceeding; however, I
got out of my carriage, and being pretty strong, placed it, wheels and
all, upon my head: I then jumped over a hedge about nine feet high
(which, considering the weight of the coach, was rather difficult) into
a field, and came out again by another jump into the road beyond the
other carriage: I then went back for the horses, and placing one upon my
head, and the other under my left arm, by the same means brought them to
my coach, put to, and proceeded to an inn at the end of our stage. I
should have told you that the horse under my arm was very spirited, and
not above four years old; in making my second spring over the hedge, he
expressed great dislike to that violent kind of motion by kicking and
snorting; however, I confined his hind legs by putting them into my coat
pocket. After we arrived at the inn my postilion and I refreshed
ourselves; he hung his horn on a peg near the kitchen fire; I sat on the
other side.
Suddenly we heard a _tereng! tereng! teng! teng!_ We looked round, and
now found the reason why the postilion had not been able to sound his
horn; his tunes were frozen up in the horn, and came out now by thawing,
plain enough, and much to the credit of the driver; so that the honest
fellow entertained us for some time with a variety of tunes, without
putting his mouth to the horn--The King of Prussia's March--Over the
Hill and over the Dale--with many other favorite tunes; at length the
thawing entertainment concluded, as I shall this short account of my
Russian travels.