Never have I been so fortunate as to travel with such a pleasant and diverse company as I did on the trip from Berlin to Dresden. My fellow travelers were Prussian government officials, officers, merchants, one apothecary, and so on. They talked about various subjects of daily life and discussed the battles that had taken place at these very sites twenty-five years ago. I, on my part, related several events from our patriotic war that are not known abroad. The Prussians, in general, are notorious in Germany for their boastfulness, but those who were with us in the diligence talked about the heroic deeds and failures of their country humbly, nobly, and cleverly. Generally speaking, it is more pleasant to travel in Germany than elsewhere—of course, if you understand and speak German decently. Among the fellow travelers in any diligence or dining at the same table, there will always be clever, educated conversationalists. At first, the Germans may seem uncouth and apprehensive with foreigners, especially when they see in one's passport “kaiserlich-russischer Staatsrat.” They dread and avoid arrogant foreigners who treat them no better than those same foreigners treat postmasters in their own countries. But as soon as they hear a tender, courteous word, not even pronounced in pure German, yet in a way they understand, they become friendly, trustful, and obliging. The main, or fundamental, virtue of Germans is their rectitude, Rechtlichkeit. One can do anything to a German as long as the action is based on the law: he obeys and endures everything. But the slightest violation of his rights, even one that is not committed to cause deprivation or offense, makes him lose his patience. Napoleon conquered all Germany, brought it to complete ruin by taxes and extortion, killed hundreds of thousands of Germans in wars alien to the interests of Germany. The Germans remained silent. “This is the right of war,” they said. “Napoleon treats us cruelly, severely, mercilessly, but we let him defeat us and must suffer for it.”