It had been known for three months that the Russian winter, and the army of the Emperor Alexander, had destroyed the great army. Already had Gropius, at Christmas, introduced a diorama of the burning of Moscow. For some weeks many of the new books had treated of Russia, giving descriptions of the people; Russian manuals and Russian national music were in vogue. Whatever came from the east was glorified by the excited minds of the people. Nothing more so than the vanguard of the foreign army, the Cossacks. Next the frost and hunger, they were considered the conquerors of the French. Wonderful stories of their deeds preceded them, they were said to be half wild men, of great simplicity of manners, of remarkable heartiness, indescribable dexterity, astuteness, and valour. It was reported how active their horses were, how irresistible their attacks, that they could swim through great rivers, climb the steepest hills, and bear the most horrible cold with good courage. On the 17th February, they appeared in the neighbourhood of Berlin; after that, they were expected daily in the cities which lay further to the west; daily did the boys go out of the gates to spy out whether a troop of them could be descried coming. When, at last, their arrival was announced, young and old streamed through the streets. They were welcomed with joyful acclamations, eagerly did citizens carry to them whatever would rejoice the hearts of the strangers; it was thought that brandy, sauerkraut, and herrings would suit their national taste. Everything about them was admired; their strong, thick beards, long dark hair, thick sheepskins, wide blue trowsers, and their weapons, pikes, long Turkish pistols, often of costly work, which they wore in broad leather girdles round their bodies, and the crooked Turkish sabre. With transport were they watched when they supported themselves on their lances and vaulted nimbly over thick cushion saddles, which served at the same time as sacks for their mantles; or couched their lances, urging on their lean horses with loud hurrahs; and, again, when they fastened their lances by a thong to the arm and trotted along, swinging that foreign instrument, the kantschu, to the astonishment of the youths--everyone stepped aside and looked at them with respect. All were enchanted also with their style of riding. They bent themselves down to the ground at full gallop, and lifted up the smallest objects. At the quickest pace they whirled their pikes round their heads, and hit with certainty any object at which they aimed. Astonishment soon changed to a feeling of intimacy; they quickly won the heart of the people. They were particularly friendly to the young, raised the children on their horses, and rode with them round the market-place; they sang in families in what was supposed to be the Cossack's style. Every boy became either a Cossack, or a Cossack's horse. Some of the customs, indeed, of these heroic friends were rather unpleasant, they