Arrival

Travelling up the Velikaya River from Lake Peipus, Samuel Kiechel and his companions, two English merchants, reached the Russian city of Pleskau (Pskov). The boat moored at the quay, and the travellers disembarked. Kiechel and his companions registered their arrival with the Muscovite officials at the harbour. The officials asked for their names, where they had come from, what goods they brought or wanted to buy, and whether they had any other reason to come to Pleskau. They recorded the travellers’ names and the goods the merchants brought. According to Kiechel, they did this for taxation as well as security; the Muscovites were distrustful and wary because their land was wide and open.¹

The questions of the Russian officials could have proved dangerous for our traveller. Kiechel was no merchant. He wrote that if he had said he wanted to see the country, the Muscovites would have suspected him of being a spy. According to our traveller, the Russians are very rough, uneducated people who rarely leave their country. They can’t believe someone would visit their land just to see it and learn about their customs and traditions.²

Fortunately, one of Kiechel’s companions, aware of the potential difficulties, helped him out. When the Muscovite officials asked our traveller why he had come, his companion answered for him. He also registered several pieces of damask from his own cargo in Kiechel’s name.³

The travellers were then allowed to leave the harbour area, but Samuel wrote that he did not enter Pleskau. He noted that no foreigner, not even those who live and trade in the city, could enter without permission. The German merchants who come to Pleskau have their own house (a large trading post) opposite the city on the other side of the river. There, each merchant has his own room and storage area for his goods. A bridge connects the trading post to the city, and foreigners may walk on it but not cross it.⁴

Pleskau lies on the southern shore of Lake Peipus at the confluence of the Velikaya and Pskova. The larger Velikaya flows past the city, while the Pskova flows through it. On the spit where the two rivers meet stands the Krom, the fortress of Pleskau, built in the twelfth century. Samuel Kiechel must have seen it on the eastern bank as he came up the Velikaya.

The German trading post Kiechel mentioned was most likely on the other side of the Pskova River, within the city’s outer walls. The Pskova is narrower than the Velikaya and easier to bridge. It also lay within the city’s perimeter. It is unlikely that German merchants would have chosen to live in a house in the open country outside the walls, especially after the long Livonian War.

At the German trading post, Samuel paid one Guilder per week for food. Drinks had to be paid separately. He considered this a reasonable price and noted that poultry was particularly cheap. He noticed that many merchants from cities of the Hanseatic League, especially from Lübeck, were in Pleskau. Besides the German merchants, only the English were allowed to trade in Russia.⁵

Pleskau

Pleskau (Pskov) in the late seventeenth or early eighteenth century

Samuel Kiechel wrote that Pleskau is the first city beyond the border to Livonia that belongs to the Grand Duke of Muscovy. Apart from Moscow, where the Grand Duke kept court, Pleskau was his most prominent and most fortified city. Kiechel heard that Moscow had no fortifications at all. Even Pskov was only fortified by a wall on one side, and there were no bulwarks or moats. The river protected the other side of the city.⁶

Pleskau expanded gradually, as most cities did. It spread from the fortress south and east between the two rivers, then across the Pskova River. While I could not find any contemporary maps or views, by the time of Kiechel’s visit the city had three rings of walls, each following the city’s expansion. Apart from the fortress walls, a wall south of it was built during the rule of Daumantas, a Lithuanian nobleman who fled to Pleskau in the thirteenth century. Another wall was constructed along the Pskova and Velikaya Rivers at the end of the fourteenth century, when the city was part of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. The outer wall, which also included land on the other side of the Pskova, was built in the late fifteenth century. Contrary to Kiechel, it is also very unlikely that the city was unfortified towards the river.

According to the journal, Kiechel’s freedom to explore Pleskau was severely limited. The traveller was not allowed to cross the river and visit the Old Town around the fortress. He had to remain north of the Pskova River, in the part of the city that was likely just a suburb. This restriction likely limited his knowledge of the city’s fortifications. From the descriptions, it seems that Kiechel either never noticed the outer wall or forgot about it when he wrote his journal. For him, the walls of Pleskau were those on the other side of the Pskova River, visible from the German trading post.

Fortress and Old Town of Pleskau, with the Pskova River separating it from the suburb to the north of the river, where the German trading post presumably stood

Our traveller learnt that King Stephen of Poland had laid siege to Pleskau during the Livonian War. He had come with an army of 80,000 men but could not take the city. According to Kiechel, the Muscovites fought harder to defend their cities and fortresses than in open battle. He added that the Muscovites are hard-working and tough. They withstand hunger and thirst better than others because their food and drink are always meagre.⁷

Stephen Báthory unsuccessfully besieged Pskov in 1581/82. After Sweden and Poland-Lithuania finally decided to act together against Russia in the later stages of the Livonian War, Báthory decided that, instead of fighting the Russian army in Livonia, he would attack Russian territory. He captured Polotsk in 1579 and Velikiye Luki in 1580. Polotsk is today in northern Belarus, and Velikiye Luki is in Russia, close to the border with Belarus. Both cities are about 200-250 km south of Pleskau (Pskov). Taking Pleskau would have cut off Russian access to Livonia and forced Tsar Ivan IV (the Terrible) to back down. The 80,000 men Kiechel mentions were probably too large. Báthory’s army is estimated to have been 50,000 men strong. Pleskau held out, but despite the failure to capture the city, the attack into Russian territory and subsequent successful Swedish attacks in northern Livonia pushed Ivan to seek peace.⁸

The People of Pleskau

Pleskau is large and has a few suburbs outside the wall, Kiechel further wrote. The houses in the city are made of wood and are poorly built. The roofs are covered with wooden planks. Only the churches and the wall are solid stone constructions. Even the Grand Duke’s palace was made of wood, and so were the houses of the city’s noblemen. Apparently, the Russians considered it unhealthy to live in stone houses. Our traveller was told that the wealthy noblemen of Pskov wore expensive clothing but lived in houses costing no more than fifteen to twenty Reichsthaler (large silver coins).¹²

Costume prints of people in Russian clothing, ca. 1580

The people of Pleskau are rough and ill-mannered. They show no respect to anyone and will not take off their hats to high- or low-born people. They wear long coats of good cloth, similar in style to Armenian clothing, and there are few differences in clothing between the genders. Men and women wear high boots with the soles reinforced with iron hobnails. The women go out on the streets fully veiled. Only their eyes are visible. The Russians consider it disgraceful if more than a woman’s eyes are visible, both in the street and at home. In their houses, the women have their own rooms. Their clothes are clean and well kept.

Samuel further wrote: The food the Russians consume is of poor quality. They have no fruit other than apples and pears. Instead, they grow “agurien” and eat large quantities of them. (I could not determine what kind of fruit “agurien” are.) Kiechel noted that he saw Russians eat six, seven or eight of them unpeeled. They drink nothing but water with them. Russian meals consist of half-baked bread that is still very doughy, onions, lots of garlic, lettuce and similar raw items. Such foodstuffs, Kiechel wrote, need “brantwein” (distilled spirits) to be eaten. He heard that some of them drink a fourth of a Maß (ca. 1.1 l) of “brantwein” in one go. Kiechel also learnt that when a Muscovite is invited as a guest, he will consider himself poorly treated if there is no “brantwein” already at the table even before he sits down.¹³

Russian hunters, 1636

Regarding trade, the Muscovites export furs from animals such as marten, sable, lynx, wolf and fox, as well as large quantities of squirrel pelts. They also export wax, flax, hemp and the skins of oxen, moose and other animals. In return, they import cloth, silk clothes and small wares from the German merchants.¹⁴

For the small wares, Kiechel used the term ‘Krämereien’. The word can mean quite a lot of different things, from smaller, high-value luxury articles to household items, or, in later centuries, useless or superfluous stuff.

Samuel continued: When a German merchant agrees to trade with a Muscovite, Russian officials record their agreement. These officials also collect taxes on the goods. They write the contract for tax reasons, but also to ensure the Muscovite merchant sticks to the agreement and does not pull out.¹⁵

Dorpat (Tartu)

The gates of Dorpat were heavily guarded, and during the day only one gate was open to allow people to enter or leave the city. Before Samuel Kiechel was allowed in, the innkeeper had to come to the gate to vouch for him.

Kiechel wrote: Dorpat is a frontier city on the border with the land of Muscovy. It is small and poorly fortified. Before the war, it was home to a wealthy population, with beautiful houses, and was the seat of an archdiocese. The church is still visible but badly damaged. Few people live in the city, and there are few undamaged houses. Within Dorpat is a castle where a Polish nobleman resides. He now rules the city. The guards at the gate are Polish too, and Kiechel described them as bad and devious people.¹

Dorpat, 1636

Dorpat was the third-largest city in Livonia after Riga and Reval (Tallinn). Although it lacked direct access to the sea, the city lay at the crossroads of a trade route from northern Livonia to the south and the Embach River (Emajõgi), which flowed into Lake Peipus and on to Russia. Dorpat was a member of the Hanseatic League, and the lucrative trade with Russia, which the three Livonian cities monopolised, made it a wealthy and attractive place for merchants.

The city was founded in the early thirteenth century by German knights of the Livonian Brothers of the Sword, a military order established in Riga in 1202, who had conquered the region. But the place had long been an Estonian settlement. In the eleventh century, the Grand Duke of Kyiv invaded the area and had a castle built on Toome Hill (Toomemägi, today part of Tartu’s Old Town). The Estonians soon destroyed the castle and reconquered the area. This brief episode of Russian rule would, centuries later, form part of Ivan IV’s historical claim over Livonia, his demand for tribute from Dorpat, and, eventually, be part of the reason for the outbreak of the Livonian War (1558-1583).²

The Livonian War left its mark on the city. Dorpat and Narva were the first cities to fall to the Russian advance, with Dorpat surrendering on 18 July 1558. Early in the war, Ivan IV had not yet succumbed to paranoia, and the quick advance of his troops confirmed his belief that the war was divinely ordained. He therefore attempted to win over the Livonians. The people in places like Narva and Dorpat, who had surrendered to him, retained some of their privileges, and he left part of the local German administration in place.³ But the situation in the city would eventually deteriorate due to the long and exhausting war and Ivan’s mental decline. Kiechel wrote of a depopulated city with many damaged or destroyed houses.

Following the Russian conquest, the Bishopric of Dorpat was disbanded. The Bishops of Dorpat had once ruled one of the large territorial domains in Livonia. Its decline had already begun with the arrival of the Protestant Reformation in the early 1520s. Like the citizens of Riga and Reval, the people of Dorpat converted to Protestantism. Iconoclasts damaged the old cathedral, which then fell into disrepair.⁴ During the Russian occupation of the city, it was finally destroyed. Kiechel mentioned the cathedral’s ruins, and they are still there today.

Plan of Dorpat from 1638. The ruins of the cathedral lie on the right edge (west) of the city.

The Treaty of Yam-Zapolsky (1582) ended the war between Russia and Poland-Lithuania. Ivan IV had to give up all claims to Livonian territory, and Dorpat came under Polish rule. As Kiechel wrote, a Polish nobleman served as the city’s new governor. Kiechel’s judgement that the Poles were bad and devious people is somewhat difficult to explain. He did not make it clear whether he meant only the Polish guards in Dorpat or the Polish people in general. Dorpat had just come under Polish rule and was at the far end of the Commonwealth territory. Soldiers and mercenaries stationed there might have been less disciplined and more arbitrary in their dealings with people at the gate, especially foreign travellers. On the other hand, Kiechel had an unpleasant encounter with a Polish nobleman a few weeks earlier, which might have left a bad impression. While our traveller often seemed quite open to others, he was also swayed by personal experiences and by the opinions of people he trusted and who appeared to have local knowledge.

Lake Peipus

Samuel Kiechel wrote in his journal: Lake Peipus is a large inland lake. Seventy-two rivers and streams flow into it, but it has only one outlet. The lake is forty German miles long (296 km) and twelve miles wide (88 km)⁷, and it borders three domains: the lands of the Muscovite Grand Duke of Russia, the Kingdom of Poland and the Kingdom of Sweden. Goods exported from Pleskau must pay a toll to all three lords. This is most cumbersome for boats travelling to Narva in the north, as they must first sail to Dorpat to pay the toll. They must sail up the river Embach to Dorpat, then back down to the lake. Due to this detour, a journey that would normally take about three days now takes two to three weeks. Kiechel would eventually have to make this detour on his return journey from Pleskau.⁸

Our traveller further noted that Lake Peipus is very shallow, with many sandbanks. The boats on this lake have to be built to cope with it. They are wide, open vessels with a shallow draught. Despite some of the boats carrying 600 hundredweight (ca. 30,000 kg or 30 t), their draught is just slightly more than one ell (between 50 and 60 cm ). The boats are the product of great craftsmanship. Apart from the anchor and some parts where the sails are fastened, no iron or nails are used in the construction. Everything is tied together with plant fibres and other strong materials.⁹

After sleeping on the boat at the mouth of the Embach River, they set out to cross the lake the following day. The wind had picked up, promising a quick crossing. The boatman hoisted a sail, and Kiechel noted that the Muscovites had a strange way of sailing. He wrote that the sail was fastened to long poles at the prow of the vessel.

After sailing about two miles, the wind turned and strengthened. Soon they were forced back to the shore they had left that morning and took refuge from the wind in a fisher’s hut. The inhabitants offered them only some dried fish and beer. Kiechel wrote that he already regretted having eaten most of his provisions on the first night.

While on the shore, waiting for the wind to calm, Samuel saw many herons and ducks and decided to try to hunt them. However, after an unsuccessful hour, he returned to the boat. The boat was a short distance from the shore, and two oars had been placed as a gangplank. When Kiechel stepped on them, one oar gave way, and he fell into the water with his gun and powder flask.

The wind calmed in the afternoon but did not change direction. The boat left the shore, but they had to use the oars to make progress. Another night was spent on board.¹⁰

At sunrise the following day, the boat and passengers continued along the shore of Lake Peipus. The wind had not turned, and they rowed all day. Provisions were running low, and there were no settlements nearby to resupply. Around the lake, Kiechel saw only forest. Because the wind was unsteady, they did not dare attempt to cross the lake. The passengers spent another night on the boat. A piece of bread was all Kiechel and his companions had left to eat. They shared it, each mournfully recalling the provisions they had bought in Dorpat and eaten the first night. Kiechel noted, however, that there were no shortages of fleas on board.

Map of northeastern Livonia with Dorpat (Derpt), Lake Peipus (Beibas Lacus) and Pleskau (Plescovia), 1587

The Embach River enters Lake Peipus near the midpoint of its western shore. Pleskau lies at the southern tip of the lake. Lake Peipus is a continuous body of water that actually consists of two large and one small lake. The northern part is Lake Peipus, while the southern part is Lake Pskov. The Warm Lake connects both. The boat with Samuel Kiechel on board did not have to cross the lake but could sail south along its coast, as they eventually did. However, this assessment is based on modern maps. Kiechel did not know the local geography, and sixteenth-century maps of this remote region are not very accurate. This lack of local knowledge certainly contributed to our traveller’s distress and worry about the provisions.

Without provisions, they could not wait for the wind to turn and continued rowing the following day. Around lunchtime, the boat finally reached the mouth of the Velikaya River, which led from Lake Peipus to Pleskau. Near the mouth stood a tower. It belonged to the Muscovites and was garrisoned. The boat had to stop there, and one of the guards from the tower came and asked the boatman about his passengers. The guard then asked each passenger for some money. They paid and were allowed to continue upstream towards the city.¹¹

In the journal, Samuel Kiechel called this sort of payment a “trinkgeld” (German for a tip/tipping). It was something between a tip and a bribe, depending on who was asking for it or offering it. Throughout the journal, Kiechel mentions that he paid “trinkgeld”. Sometimes it was for services rendered or to thank someone. At other times, it was clearly a bribe to smooth over difficulties, or he was blackmailed into paying.

When the boat entered the river, the wind finally turned, and they could sail to Pleskau. Along the banks of the river, Kiechel saw many villages and a few monasteries. They arrived in the city in the afternoon.

Outside Riga

Map of Livonia from 1587 with Riga and Dorpat (Derpt)

Samuel Kiechel left Riga on 23 July with a carter he had met there. Their destination was Dorpat on the eastern border of Livonia. Kiechel had bought food and drink in preparation for the journey. The road outside Riga was deep and sandy. They stopped in the evening at a hamlet called Subur (?). The following morning, the two men continued and, after an hour’s travel, came to a river. A boat ferried them and other passengers to the other bank. They stopped for lunch at a peasant’s house and then drove on until the evening. Kiechel noted that there were few settlements in this area and that he had heard the peasants were not very trustworthy. They spent the night in a field.

The next day, the travellers drove through a forest. At its edge, Kiechel noticed a peasant with a barrel of beer. The man stood in the nearby field, selling beer from the barrel. Kiechel considered it a strange sight because there were no villages or houses nearby. He guessed the next village was over an hour away. But when he asked his companion about the peasant and the beer barrel, he was told there was a fair in a small town one mile away. When the people at the fair went home, they would stop there for a drink. Kiechel still found this behaviour strange.¹

In the evening, Samuel Kiechel and the carter arrived at a nobleman’s house. Earthworks surrounded the place to fend off attacks, and it had a drawbridge. Before the two men were allowed to enter, the woman of the house asked the carter for the letters he had brought. Afterwards, they were led inside and given a small room for the night. In the room was a bed, but it had neither bedding nor straw. The travellers decided to sleep on the floor, and Kiechel complained that they did not get much food either.

Samuel Kiechel wrote in his journal that the house was called Neuenhof and belonged to Melchior von Höfen, a mercenary in the service of the King of Poland. Our traveller learnt that, despite its simple fortifications, the Muscovites could not capture the place during the war. The inhabitants of several surrounding villages had brought their belongings to the house and sought refuge there. With them, there were enough men, guns and ammunition to defend it. Samuel was somewhat sceptical about this story. He remarked in his journal that, from the state of the fortifications, the Muscovites probably never seriously tried to capture this house.²

The place was most likely not just a house but a small castle. In medieval and early modern German, the term “house” was also used to refer to certain fortifications.

An Outsider’s Observations

Samuel Kiechel visited Livonia only three years after the end of the war. What he witnessed on his journey to Dorpat and later to Reval was a country scarred by the long conflict. Kiechel’s descriptions capture the situation in Livonia well; he saw destroyed or depopulated villages, summer fields with crops in full growth but no one tending them, and experienced the fear and mistrust that pervaded society. Though his observations are typically sparse, they are intriguing because he was an outsider. People who travelled to Livonia in the 1580s did so with a purpose: to seek employment (mercenaries, private teachers, estate managers) and/or profit (merchants). All of those people had personal or business interests in Livonia that shaped their perception of the land. Kiechel had no stake in the place, and it is not even clear whether he had planned to visit the province or if it was just another spur-of-the-moment decision. He had no personal connection to people in Livonia and, most likely, little prior knowledge of the territory. His observations are therefore straightforward and unvarnished.

One example of Kiechel’s observations about the province is the man with the barrel selling beer in the field. Our traveller considered it merely a strange sight compared to what he would have expected — tables, benches, a hut from which the beer is sold — signs that this was a legally sanctioned establishment for selling drinks. He did not question it further.

The man and his barrel were likely a consequence of a lack of administrative oversight and policing, and of the general neglect of the population in the province after the war. The man sold his beer in the field because, in a town or village, the local innkeepers would have objected, and even if he had somehow been allowed to, he would have had to pay a levy. Outside, in the fields, he could sell the beer tax-free, and because it would be cheaper than in the towns, people would buy it. In the field, no one would wonder where he got the barrel of beer from. Did he brew it himself, or had he stolen it? The risk of the authorities interfering was low. In whose jurisdiction did the man sell his beer? After Livonia had been split up between the victors of the war, who was in charge now? The new Polish lords had bigger issues to attend to, and the local Livonian noblemen who had kept their lands no longer had the resources to deal with such minor issues.

About Riga

After crossing Lithuania with Tatar guides, the traveller Samuel Kiechel arrived in Riga. He wrote: Riga is the main city of Livonia. It is not particularly large, but a well-built, beautiful and pleasant place. High, beautiful walls fortify it, and it is under the protection of the King of Poland. The king has a palace in Riga, built partly within the city and partly outside the walls beside the river.¹

Furthermore, Kiechel noted: Riga is located on the Düna River (Daugava). The river is impressive and wider than the Rhine at Cologne. It originates in Russia and flows into the Baltic Sea two miles downstream of Riga. Ships can sail all the way up the river to the city to load and unload their cargo. Many goods arrive on the river from Russia.²

The palace in Riga, 1581

Riga is a bishopric, Kiechel continues, and the current bishop is a nobleman from Lithuania. He is from the Radziwiłł family, and the current pope, Sixtus V, made him a cardinal. This Lithuanian nobleman had then travelled to Rome to receive his hat and other insignia.³

Kiechel’s description of the Bishopric of Riga seems somewhat difficult. Riga had been an Archdiocese until 1563, when the city converted to Protestantism. There had not been another Catholic bishop in this seat. The noble family Kiechel mentioned was the Radziwiłł (Radvila) family, one of the most powerful and influential Lithuanian dynasties. Georg Radziwiłł (Jurgis Radvila) had been a cardinal at the time and had been appointed as governor of Livonia, but not as bishop of Riga.

Riga, 1581;

Riga, 1581

A view of Riga is in volume three of the Civitates Orbis Terrarum. The city is seen from the south-west. The river with some large and small ships is in the foreground. Various buildings are identified by name. The palace is on the left side of the image and, like Kiechel described, at the edge of the city and close to the river. Riga Cathedral is in the centre, and the town hall is to the right of it. Between the palace and the Cathedral is St. James’ Church, the former Catholic Cathedral.

With its location on the large Daugava River, the area around Riga had attracted traders and settlers for centuries. As Kiechel noted, the river has its source in Russia. It connects to the network of Russian rivers and was used by the Vikings as a trade route and to travel to Byzantium. German merchants regularly visited the area in the twelfth century. Riga was founded in 1201 by German merchants and missionaries. The city became the seat of an archdiocese to convert Livonia to Catholicism. Riga became a member of the Hanseatic League and, together with Reval (Tallinn), dominated the lucrative trade with Novgorod in Russia.

Riga and the Daugava River, 1634

Throughout its history, Riga had an uneasy relationship with its archbishops and the Teutonic Order, which had expanded from Prussia to Livonia in 1237. As in the Holy Roman Empire, the inhabitants of Riga sought autonomy from any territorial lords.

In 1522, the city became Protestant, leading to further tensions with the archbishop. By the sixteenth century, Livonia had become a confederation of four bishoprics (Riga, Dorpat, Ösel-Wiek and Courland), the Livonian Branch of the Teutonic Order, and wealthy, powerful cities such as Riga, Reval and Dorpat (Tartu). No part of the confederation was strong enough to dominate the others. This led to decades of economic stability and little conflict, but when the Livonian War (1558-1583) broke out in 1558, the armies of Ivan the Terrible faced little opposition. The war dragged on for more than twenty years, and in 1581, the council of Riga decided to accept the protection of the Polish King Stephan Báthory.

The Calendar Riots

Samuel Kiechel’s report about the events in Riga is somewhat chaotic and impossible to reconstruct in every detail. This is, in part, also the case because I have found little literature on the events of the Calendar Riots.¹¹ Our traveller had presumably heard about it from people in Riga. As is common with word of mouth, everyone told a slightly different story depending on their knowledge and involvement, prejudices and position on the issue. In addition, Kiechel was wholly unfamiliar with the situation in Riga as he tried to make sense of what he had been told. As a Protestant from southern Germany, he certainly had his own point of view regarding the religious tensions of the late sixteenth century.

Kiechel correctly identified the main issue behind the tumult in the city: the Calendar Reform of 1582. Since 1581, Riga had been part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. It had retained many of its privileges and freedoms, but as a subject of the Catholic Polish King, Protestant Riga was obliged to adopt the new calendar in 1584. In addition, the King bought St. James’ Church from the city and gave it to the Jesuits, who now moved into the city.

As in other non-Catholic parts of Europe, the new Gregorian Calendar was seen less as a necessary correction to the now wildly inaccurate Julian Calendar. Because it was announced by papal bull, it was considered a propaganda instrument and a ploy to reinstate papal supremacy. The Protestant Samuel Kiechel continued to use the old Julian Calendar throughout his journal. Likewise, the appearance of Jesuits in Riga was considered a provocation.

Destruction of Catholic church decorations during religious riots in the late sixteenth century

The events also divided Riga’s population. The split fell between the wealthy, established and influential families with positions on the council and the general population, who had no voice in city politics — in short, between the rich and the poor. Many of the city’s patricians, as well as the Protestant clergy, were willing to accept the changes and to keep the peace with the king. But a large part of the city’s population was unhappy about having the Polish King as their sovereign and felt that their religious beliefs were threatened.

Samuel Kiechel mentioned the sale of the Cathedral of Riga. This was not the Cathedral Church of Saint Mary, one of Riga’s best-known sights today. It was the aforementioned sale of St. James’ Church and its handover to the Jesuits. The sale was not a clandestine deal. However, the council members who had approved it were accused of treachery. Following the introduction of the Gregorian Calendar, riots broke out. The rioters broke into St. James’ Church, disrupted the service, attacked churchgoers and damaged its interior.

St. James’ Church, 1581 (in German: St. Jakobs’ Kirche, since 1923 a cathedral)

Contrary to what Kiechel heard, the rector of the Cathedral school was not among those who had agreed to the sale and introduction of the calendar. He protested this and apparently insulted the King in doing so. He was arrested, and this arrest incurred new riots. The riots were accompanied by looting, violence and intimidation. In particular, the council members were the targets of popular anger. As Kiechel wrote, the council was ordered not to make any decisions without the citizens’ consent.

The two executions, Samuel Kiechel mentioned, also took place. But since there was no real conspiracy, the trial by the agitated populace and the cowed council was far from fair. The verdict was therefore a revenge on two members of the city’s elite for their part in agreeing to take the Polish King as sovereign, the introduction of the Gregorian calendar and the loss of St. James’ Church.

I have not found anything about the mayor and his many friends, Kiechel mentioned. But our travellers’ characterisation of the city’s atmosphere as mistrustful and suspicious must have been quite accurate.

In Vilnius

According to the journal, Vilnius is the capital of Lithuania. Lithuania itself is called a Grand Duchy and has its own duke. But the land is under the protection of the King of Poland. Vilnius is very large, wide, but poorly built. The city has no fortifications, and people can enter and leave it during the night. Most houses in Vilnius are built of wood, and the roofs are covered with wooden planks. The exceptions are two streets, the most noble in the city. German merchants and other craftsmen live there. These foreigners have their own churches and priests whom they pay themselves.¹

Samuel Kiechel spent almost two weeks in Vilnius. He visited the ducal palace and wrote that it was large but old. Within the palace grounds, he saw a large, beautiful church and a new building. Kiechel heard that this new part of the palace was beautiful inside, but could not enter to see for himself. The river Vilna (Lithuanian: Neris, Polish: Wilia) flows past the palace, and the city has its name from it.²

Vilnius, 1581

A bird’s-eye view of Vilnius is in the third volume of the Civitates Orbis Terrarum. The city is depicted as a large, sprawling place. For a city on the periphery of Europe, the artist who drew the bird’s-eye view knew it well and had presumably been there. On the left side of the view lies the river. Beside it, on a hill, stands the old castle of Vilnius. Its main tower (Gediminas’ Tower, Gedimino pilis) remains and is today one of the city’s major sights. Below, at the foot of the hill, is the Palace of the Grand Dukes. The palace was built in the fifteenth century and remodelled in the sixteenth century. This is most likely the new building Kiechel described. The palace was demolished in 1800 but was reconstructed between 2002 and 2018.

The view of Vilnius includes a legend in the lower-left corner. It contains twenty-eight numbered entries of notable and important buildings in the city. Number four is the Palace Church Kiechel mentioned (Vilnius Cathedral).

On the right side of the image, a street named German Street (“Die Deutsche goße”) is visible. This is one of the two streets Kiechel mentioned, and its name points to its inhabitants. The buildings on this street indeed look somewhat different from most houses in Vilnius. Our traveller’s observation that much of Vilnius was built of wood seems accurate.

The Palace of Vilnius (2), with the old castle (1) on the hill in the background and the church in the bottom-left corner (4)

The German street (“Die Deutsche goße”)

Samuel Kiechel noted that followers of many different religions and sects live in Vilnius. He mentioned Martinists, Papists, Calvinists, Jesuits, Russians or Muscovites, Anabaptists, Zwinglianists and Jews. They all have their own churches and religious services. In addition, there are the pagan Tatars. In Vilnius, all religions and sects are free.³

The presence of various religions in Vilnius and the freedom they enjoyed might have surprised Samuel Kiechel. While the Reformation had sparked deep conflicts and religious persecution across the rest of Europe, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, and in particular Vilnius, were centres of religious freedom at the time. For Jews especially, Vilnius became a safe haven and cultural centre known as “Jerusalem of the North”.

The journal continues: Leather production is one of the main industries in Vilnius. For this industry, animal skins from Livonia, Muscovy and other places are imported. All leather workers are German master craftsmen. They are mostly from Silesia and are very protective of their privileges. No one is allowed to train a Pole or a Lithuanian for fear that these privileges might be revoked. The masters take only German men as apprentices. Otherwise, not many other trades are practised in Vilnius. Flax is grown in large quantities, made into twine and exported to Nuremberg.

Kiechel’s observation about the German craftsmen only taking Germans as apprentices sounds to modern ears quite discriminatory. But it was not uncommon at the time to restrict access to certain trades. The guilds usually did it to guarantee the quality of their products and keep the prices stable. Too many craftsmen producing the same products were to be avoided.

Leatherworker

In Vilnius, since the late Middle Ages, the Grand Dukes of Lithuania have sought to persuade Western craftsmen to settle in their domain. They were granted tax exemptions and many other privileges. But at the time of Kiechel’s visit, the duchy was no longer a quasi-heathen territory on the periphery of Europe eager to catch up with Western technology, but rather part of a large, confident empire (the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth). As our traveller mentioned, the German master craftsmen feared losing their privileges if they opened up their market.

To Riga

Kiechel spent eleven days in Vilnius and was looking for an opportunity to travel to Livonia. He met a German merchant from Westphalia who had bought leather and intended to travel to Riga. Together, they hired two Tatars to guide them. Kiechel’s new companion spoke the local language (probably Lithuanian) and could therefore communicate with the Tatars. Both men had their own vehicle drawn by a single horse.

The distance from Vilnius to Riga was forty miles, and Kiechel paid his Tatar four Guilders. Our traveller noted that this was not expensive, as he had his own cart and did not need to share it. The Tatar had to provide his own provisions and food for the horse.

Kiechel had travelled with a Tatar from Grodno to Vilnius and, apart from some general observations and cultural stereotypes, had not mentioned any mistrust towards the man. Now, he wrote that he and his new companion did not trust the two Tatars they had hired. Kiechel noted that he had heard rumours that travellers had come to harm from the Tatars. The two Tatars Kiechel and his companion had hired had to promise to ensure their safety, as was customary among them.⁴

Kiechel’s mistrust towards their guides stands in contrast to his previous experiences with the Tatars. It is possible that the Tatars, as an ethnically distinct people, were generally more distrusted. Also, banditry was not uncommon in the region. But it is also possible that our traveller was influenced by his new companion’s opinions. Since Kiechel spoke no Lithuanian or Polish, he had to rely on information from people who spoke German or, in an emergency, Latin. Naturally, such third-hand information was already loaded with individual prejudices.

They left Vilnius on the evening of 13 July. The countryside around the city was flat and sandy. When they came to a hill, the Tatars would help their horses by pushing the cart. Kiechel estimated that on average, such a cart would travel eight to ten miles per day.

On the day of his departure from Vilnius, Samuel Kiechel and his companion travelled three miles and arrived at night in a village called Picquel (?). The two travellers slept on their carts as it was customary when travelling with Tatars. Kiechel noted that provisions had to be bought in the cities and brought along for the journey. On the road and in the villages, there was little food or drink available for sale.

The following morning, the travellers continued on their journey along a sandy track through dense forests. At lunchtime, they stopped on an open meadow where the horses could graze. The group spent the night in the village of Armantsch (?).

On 15 July, Samuel Kiechel and his companion travelled along a good road and stopped at noon in a forest. In the evening, they arrived at a village and spent the night outside it in a meadow. Kiechel wrote that they slept on the grass because it was the height of summer and very warm. The following day, they travelled another nine miles before stopping in a field. Their provisions were running low, but they were close to the next town, where they could replenish them.

The area south of Riga, including Bauska (“Bavtzke”) in the lower-left corner and Riga in the top right, 1634.

The next morning, they travelled three miles and arrived in the small town of Bautschburg (Bauska). The town was in the Duchy of Courland and had a castle. According to Kiechel, the castle was in bad shape. The Duke of Courland had his residence in the town of Mittau (Jelgava) seven miles away, but Kiechel wrote that he did not visit this town because it was not on his route. However, our traveller learnt that the Duke of Courland was a Westphalian nobleman from the Kettler dynasty and not born to the title. He also noted that the people of this land spoke their own language, which was quite different from Lithuanian.⁵

The Duke of Courland was Gotthard Kettler (1517-1587). He had been the last Master of the Livonian branch of the Teutonic Order. During the Livonian War (1558-1582), the Livonian confederation, a mixture of free cities, the Livonian branch of the Teutonic Order, the Archbishopric of Riga and the three Bishoprics of Courland, Dorpat and Ösel-Wiek, could not withstand Russian attacks and fell apart. Gotthard Kettler decided to convert to Protestantism and to make the Order’s remaining territory into a Duchy. He sought the protection of the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. In the Treaty of Vilnius of 1561, Kettler, as Duke of Courland, became a Polish vassal.

The travellers stayed in Bautschburg until lunchtime because it was Sunday. They had some food and beer and bought provisions for the remainder of the journey to Riga. They left in the afternoon and travelled through pleasant and fertile countryside. But the land was not very populated. The group spent the night again in a field, but the weather had changed, and it was raining heavily. The travellers had to spend the night under their carts, where it was somewhat dry.

The following morning, they left early because the rain had woken them up. It continued to rain throughout the day, and Kiechel’s clothes were soaked. In the afternoon, they arrived close to Riga. The last obstacle was a wide river, the Düna (Daugava). The river had to be crossed by ferry, and the travellers got off their carts. The carts and horses had to stay on this side of the river, and all goods that arrived from Vilnius and other places in Lithuania had to be loaded on boats.⁶

Kiechel was astonished by the river’s size. He wrote that it was about a quarter of a mile wide. When they crossed it, the wind picked up, and the water got so rough that Kiechel became afraid. The boat on which they crossed the river was small and shabby. Nevertheless, the travellers arrived in Riga in the evening.

In Grodno

Having crossed the dense forests of the wilderness, Samuel Kiechel arrived in Grodno (Hrodna). He wrote that the city was unfortified, on the banks of the river Memel (Neman, Belarus: Nioman, Poln.: Niemen, Lith.: Nemunas). Our traveller heard that the Memel flows towards Kaunas in Lithuania and that it is possible to continue along the river to Königsberg. The Polish King had a residence in Grodno. His palace had been recently rebuilt, and construction was not yet finished. Kiechel learnt that the King spent much time in Grodno because the surrounding countryside was ideal for hunting. Sometimes he went hunting for eight days without returning to the city.¹

Grodno, 1568

A profile view of Grodno appears in volume two of the Civitates Orbis Terrarum. The image presents the city from the south-west. Grodno is unfortified and looks rather small and spread out. The castle is in the centre of the view, on a low hill behind the bridge across the Neman River. The view also includes three Russian Orthodox churches and one Polish Catholic church. Many figures are seen in the image. A large group of horsemen crosses the bridge, and in the foreground, two groups of riders meet. The clothing of those two groups appears to be in the fashion of Eastern Europe and the Ottoman Empire.

The view in the Civitates is a reworked copy of an engraving by Matthias Zündt of Nuremberg, dating to 1568. Zündt had made this panorama to commemorate the assembly of the representatives of the estates of the realm called by Sigismund II Augustus (1520-1572), King of Poland, in 1567 in Grodno. A small text at the upper right edge of Zündt’s view informs the reader that embassies from Muscovy, the Ottoman Empire, the Tatars (Crimean Tatars) and Wallachia had also arrived.

Grodno Castle

Grodno Castle was originally built as a wooden fort in the eleventh century, rebuilt as a stone structure in the fourteenth century, and again during Stephen Báthory’s rule in the sixteenth century. The royal palace in Grodno is on a hill in the centre of the view. But it is still the old medieval building, as the original view was made before Stephen Báthory ordered its reconstruction in Renaissance style.

Grodno, with its central location within the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, access to river transport and trade along the Neman, and the rich hunting grounds of the former wilderness west of the river, became a popular residence for various monarchs. In this wilderness, large animals such as the aurochs and the European bison could still be found and hunted. As Kiechel noted, the king (Stephen Báthory, 1533-1586) spent much of his time in Grodno, making it the de facto capital of the Commonwealth.

Grodno, 1655

Departure

Samuel Kiechel left Grodno on the evening of 28 June. He had hired a Tatar with a cart and a wretched-looking horse to take him to Vilnius. Many Tatars live in Lithuania, Kiechel wrote. They mostly work as carters, providing transport for people and goods for little money.

Kiechel mentions that he was unable to speak with the Tatar. Another Tatar with his cart travelled with them, and he had a Polish student as a passenger. To talk to the student, Kiechel had to use Latin.

Kiechel described the Tatars’ cart. It was called a “Coless”. These vehicles were small and narrow, and only one horse was used to pull them. Not more than one passenger could ride in it. But the cart was seven feet long, and during the night, a person could lie down on it. The vehicle had four wheels of the same type made from strong willow bent into a circle. Nothing on the “Coless” or the harness of the horse contained iron, rope or leather. The cart was made of wood, and the harness was of braided bast fibres. This was done because there were so many forests in Lithuania that a Lithuanian sitting in a tree would make himself a pair of shoes and all the equipment for his horse from bark and bast fibres, and braid them together.⁷

Travelling to Vilnius

At night, Kiechel and the Tatar arrived in a village called Ostscha (?), two miles from Grodno, where they spent the night.

Kiechel noted that the Tatars don’t stop at lunchtime to feed their horses, and a traveller needs to be prepared and has to take provisions with him. However, when they come to a nice meadow or a bit of woodland, they like to unhitch the horse from the cart and let it graze there. During the summer months, they often spent the nights outside in the fields. In dry weather, they sleep on their cart, and in rainy weather, they sleep under it.⁸

Map segment with Grodno, Merkinė (Merecz) and Vilnius (Vilna)

The travellers arrived in Merkinė in the evening, ten miles from the village where they had set out in the morning. Kiechel could not find accommodation in the town because the inn was full. He had to sleep outside and without dinner.

Early in the morning on 30 June, Samuel Kiechel and his Tatar left Merkinė. When they were a mile from the town, they saw the carriage of the lord of Merkinė, a Polish nobleman, coming from the opposite direction. Six horses pulled his carriage, and another twenty were herded in a field beside the road. The carriage stopped beside the cart, and the nobleman asked Kiechel who he was, where he came from, and where he intended to go. As he spoke Polish, Kiechel did not understand a word and could not answer. The nobleman called for a servant who spoke German, and our traveller answered all the questions. Afterwards, Samuel was allowed to continue.

But this was not the end of the encounter. When Samuel Kiechel and the Tatar had travelled just two or three gunshots (ca. 700 metres), the nobleman’s servant came running after them. He reprimanded Kiechel for having spoken to such an important nobleman without getting off his cart. The nobleman felt insulted and ordered his servant to beat Kiechel off the cart. But by then Samuel had already got out of the cart by himself. He begged the servant to pardon his behaviour and explained that he had not been aware of the custom that people had to get out of their carts when they met someone in a field. Kiechel was so worried about the threat of violence that he continued to walk beside the cart until the nobleman’s carriage and the servant were out of sight.⁹

After reporting on this incident, Kiechel commented that the Poles were very prideful and wanton people, especially in their own land. He also wondered whether the servant had acted on his master’s orders or of his own volition.¹⁰

In the evening, Kiechel, the Polish student and the Tatars made camp beside a brook. They made a large fire and slept beside it. The Tatars let their horses graze all night.

The next day, when the group was only three miles from Vilnius, they came to an unpleasant stretch of forest where the road descended a very steep hill. At the bottom of the hill was a long valley with about thirty villages and smaller hamlets. The villages were mostly populated by Tatars who served the King of Poland. When the king demanded it, they had to go and fight in his wars.¹¹

The long valley was likely the Vokė River valley just south of Vilnius. Along this river, the first Tatars settled in Lithuania in the fourteenth century.

Samuel Kiechel noted: The Tatars are rough, crude, but very tough people. When one of them has a horse that is too old to be used for anything, he will ride it for one or two hours until its muscles are warm and it begins to sweat. Then they cut the horse’s throat, butcher it and eat it. They use horses in the way people at home (Kiechel’s home) use oxen or other animals. The Tatars live a very wretched life.¹²

The travellers continued on their way and, after another two miles, arrived in Vilnius. Kiechel found accommodation in the house of a German man named Anthoni of Leipzig.

From Königsberg to Grodno (Hrodna)

Map of Prussia and Poland with Königsberg (“Regius mons”) and Grodno

Samuel Kiechel left Königsberg (Kaliningrad) on 21 June with a Lithuanian merchant and innkeeper. The man’s name was Hanns Hülcowüz; he lived in Grodno (Hrodna) and was on his way home after visiting the Königsberg fair. He had his own carriage, coachman and horses. The carriage carried various goods he had bought in Königsberg.

In the evening, Kiechel and his new companion arrived in the village of Lamgarben (Garbno). The place was still within the Duchy of Prussia, but Kiechel noticed that its inhabitants already spoke Lithuanian.

Lamgarben was about eighty kilometres south-east of Königsberg and some distance from Lithuanian territory. While Lithuanian migrants may have settled there, it is far more likely that the population spoke Old Prussian, and Samuel Kiechel mistook it for Lithuanian. The Old Prussian language had been in decline since the Teutonic Knights conquered and subdued the Prussian tribes, but it continued to be spoken in eastern Prussia. It would die out in the eighteenth century. Lithuanian and Old Prussian belong to the same family (Baltic languages). Unfamiliar with both languages, Kiechel would not have been able to tell the difference.

The two travellers continued the following day along a good road through flat countryside. The weather was very hot, and Kiechel was surprised by the heat because they travelled through a large forest and the sun rarely managed to break through the foliage. In the evening, they arrived in a village called Schilaschach (?) in Lithuania. Kiechel noted that the area belonged to the Kingdom of Poland.

They left the village very early the next morning and travelled until around 9 o’clock, when the heat of the day became too much. The previous day, the horses had refused to move on more than one occasion because of the heat. The animals were exhausted and harassed by large gadflies. The travellers stopped in a small hamlet and remained there until evening. When the temperature had dropped to a bearable level, they continued, driving through the night and arriving early the next morning in the town of Augustów in Lithuania.

Again, Kiechel and his companion stayed in the town during the day and continued in the evening. They drove throughout the night through a large forest. At around 2 o’clock in the morning, they arrived at a tavern on the other side of the forest, where they took a break. But because they could not find anything to eat and wanted to reach Grodno before the day got too hot again, the two men left shortly after. Kiechel’s companion was worried about the condition of his horses, as the road was deep and sandy, and it took considerable effort to pull the carriage.

After another four miles of travelling, Kiechel and Hanns Hülcowüz finally arrived in Grodno.

To Elbing (Elbląg)

Samuel Kiechel stayed in Danzig (Gdańsk) for about two weeks and left the city on 6 June in a carriage with two Englishmen. They crossed the Vistula three miles outside the city. As they were close to their destination, the city of Elbing (Elbląg), the carriage ran off the road and crashed.

Kiechel wrote that this happened because they were travelling at high speed. He added pointedly that, given the time spent getting the carriage back on the road, a more leisurely pace would have been better from the start.

They arrived in Elbing, Prussia, in the evening. According to our traveller, the city was small, well fortified and close to the sea. Many English merchants lived there and traded in textiles with Danzig, Poland and other places.

Elbing was, beside Danzig, one of Prussia’s main economic centres. Trade had a long history in the area. Just south of the city, on Lake Drużno, the Viking Age trade settlement of Truso had existed since probably the seventh century. The settlement was abandoned when the lake’s connection to the Baltic Sea silted up.

Economically, Danzig became the major port in the area. But in the 1230s, the Teutonic Order, which had just gained a foothold in the region, founded Elbing. Like Danzig, Elbing became a member of the Hanseatic League, joined the Prussian Confederation against the Teutonic Knights in 1440, and, with the Second Peace of Thorn (1460), became a free city subject only to the Polish King.

Before Caspar Henneberger made his map of Prussia, he drew a panoramic view of Elbing:

Elbing, 1554

Elbing, 1554

Königsberg and the Teutonic Order

Königsberg had been founded in the thirteenth century by the Teutonic Knights. Its location on the river Pregel, close to the Vistula Lagoon and the Baltic Sea, had already been the site of a settlement of a Prussian tribe. The city was named in honour of King Ottokar II of Bohemia (1233-1278), who had been on crusade against the Old Prussians with the Order.

Königsberg and its surrounding area, including the Sambia Peninsula and the Curonian Lagoon

The location for Königsberg was well chosen. North of the city lay the Sambia Peninsula, followed by the Curonian Lagoon and the mouth of the Neman River (Memel, Niemen, Nemunas). The Teutonic Knights were engaged in a long-running war with the Prussians and Lithuanians that would last for more than a century, and the large Neman River provided access to the wilderness, a wide stretch of borderland between the territory of the Teutonic Order and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. Along the river, the Knights would construct a string of castles as forward bases and border posts. Königsberg became the seat of the Marshal of the Order, who was tasked with organising the annual military expeditions eastward. Besides Marienburg Castle (Malbork), the seat of the Grand Master of the Order, Königsberg became the second most important centre of power in Prussia.

However, after the union between Poland and Lithuania and the conversion of the Lithuanians to Christianity, the Order came under increasing pressure. It could no longer claim to defend Christianity from the heathens. Long-held grudges and territorial disputes over the wilderness and Samogitia led to war, and in 1410, the Knights were decisively defeated at Grunwald (Tannenberg). The defeat set the Teutonic Order’s decline in motion. After another conflict with Poland-Lithuania, which was supported by the cities of the Prussian Confederation (Thirteen Years’ War, 1454-1466), it lost its western territories, including Marienburg Castle. The eastern part of Prussia became a Polish fiefdom. Königsberg was now the new seat of the Grand Master.

In 1525, Grand Master Albrecht von Brandenburg-Ansbach (1490-1568) introduced the Reformation in Prussia. He secularised the territory, establishing it as a Duchy with himself as the first Duke of Prussia. The territory remained a fief of the Polish crown, a condition for King Sigismund I (1467-1548) to consent to the change. Königsberg became the new capital of the Duchy of Prussia.

Local Stories

Caspar Henneberger, the pastor who had made the first modern map of Prussia, had also published a book explaining his map and providing readers with additional detail about the places marked on it. In addition to the historical background for the cities and castles, he occasionally included timely news and stories he had heard. He wrote that in 1585, the year before Kiechel’s visit, an unusually large number of wild geese had appeared around Königsberg, and the citizens wondered where they had come from. They were not grey, as wild geese in Prussia usually were, but more colourful. The geese descended on the fields and meadows, and many were concerned about the damage they might do there.⁵

Today, this is a bit of a non-story, but Henneberger considered it worth mentioning.

Henneberger also wrote about a custom among the butchers in Königsberg. They make a very long sausage for New Year’s Day, which is carried through all three parts of the city and then presented to the bakers. In 1583, the sausage was made from thirty-six pig legs. It weighed 434 pounds (ca. 200 kg), was 596 cubits long (ca. 357 m), and was carried by 91 people. The master butchers, their journeymen and apprentices, were all dressed in clean, white clothes, and the first man in the line had the sausage slung around his neck a few times. The others followed in line, carrying it on their shoulders. The last in line also had the end of the sausage slung around his neck. However, such a long sausage is not made every year; it is too expensive.⁶

Maps in the Sixteenth Century

As the quote above states, maps are a key element of modern life, whether in traditional paper form or as digitalised versions on electronic devices. Yet using maps doesn’t come naturally to us, even if it may appear to. It requires a level of education, including the ability to read, write and engage in abstract thinking, to translate the physical world around us into the two-dimensional format of a map.

If we look at today’s multitude of purpose-made local and regional maps, such as street maps, weather maps, trail maps, real estate maps, location maps and more, there is nothing comparable from the sixteenth century. Maps played a relatively minor role in everyday practical life. We know of surveys and local maps made to help resolve legal disputes over boundaries. There are also naval charts, such as those made and published by Lucas Jansz. Waghenaer. But that’s about it. Travellers like Samuel Kiechel did not mention using maps at all.

Nevertheless, maps were popular, and cartography made enormous progress at the time. The first modern atlas, Abraham Ortelius’ Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, was published in the 1570s and reprinted in subsequent editions. As good and quite accurate as the maps in this atlas are, their practical use was very limited. Most maps did not even show major roads. Even planning a journey with them was difficult because the maps were not connected. They were drawn by different artists and focused on specific regions or territories. There was no uniform scale across all maps, and information about neighbouring territories was rarely provided. The maps were organised by country, but there was no further apparent order.

Access to the Theatrum and other atlases was limited to the educated, to people who had the time and money to engage in the pastime of learning about the world via maps. Just like Georg Braun and Frans Hogenberg, Abraham Ortelius considered his atlas a substitute for travelling. The idea was to learn about places in the world from the comfort of home, not to inspire a longing to visit them. So, due to the limited means of communication and media and the still fairly low level of education among the people, the sixteenth century was a time of very unevenly spread cartographic literacy.

Samuel Kiechel was not a student or scholar, but he had received an education and, as the journal shows, was curious about the world around him. Maybe he had used maps to choose destinations for his journey before he left. Maybe he read about Stockholm or Danzig and even saw prints of them in the Civitates Orbis Terrarum (he does not mention it), but there is a difference between reading or hearing about a place and finding your way there.

This raises the question of how Kiechel perceived the world around him and how he determined a destination’s location relative to his position. Did he know the direction home in case of an emergency? We have to keep in mind that road signs were rare, and while there were itineraries for planning routes, they had severe limitations.

So, while Samuel Kiechel still enjoys his time in Danzig, I would like to write about an aspect of his journey I have alluded to previously: orientation and the perception of geographic space in the sixteenth century.

Geography and Travel

The experiences of Caspar Henneberger show that in the sixteenth century, geographic knowledge was localised. Space was, in a way, a construct centred on an individual’s daily life and routines. For most people, the surroundings of their hometown marked the limits of their practical knowledge. This knowledge could be detailed and might include nearby towns and cities. But beyond the horizons of their daily experience, knowledge grew fuzzy and distorted. With uneven levels of general literacy and education, information about more distant neighbours was largely passed by word of mouth. The core sources were news and stories brought by travelling merchants, pedlars, carters, messengers and others whose daily life required them to travel longer distances. In addition, wealthier and better-educated people wrote letters or read books, cosmographies or the Civitates Orbis Terrarum. But these people were still a minority, as Caspar Henneberger’s difficulties showed.

How would a traveller like Samuel Kiechel find the way to a far-off destination in this conglomerate of local spaces? Maybe he asked for directions? But there was a difficulty with that. Imagine Samuel Kiechel leaving Rostock and asking for directions to Danzig. Many people might have heard of the city, but that did not mean they knew its direction or distance. So the obvious option would be for the traveller to ask for directions to places along the way, like Stralsund, Greifswald and Stettin. How did Samuel Kiechel know about the towns along the route to Danzig? All three places were larger towns and members of the Hanseatic League, so someone in Rostock could have told him about them. But asking for directions would be more difficult in less developed regions and would only work where our traveller spoke the local language.

A far more reliable method would be to have guides take travellers to their destinations. A fixture of Samuel Kiechel’s journey was his constant search for companions. Sometimes he spent days in a place until he found someone. As I mentioned multiple times before, travelling alone was dangerous, and there was safety in numbers to deter bandits and others who might take advantage of a lone traveller. But wayfinding was another key point, and finding a companion who spoke the local language was a bonus. Companions who knew the route were valuable. In particular, merchants, messengers and carters are repeatedly mentioned in the journal. All three professions required travelling and knowledge of the roads in their areas of activity.

Kiechel was not picky about his companions. He might grumble or complain about them, especially when it turned out that they did not know the way. But he also had little choice if he wanted to reach his destination.

How did Samuel Kiechel experience geographical space and keep track of his location? Most likely, from an egocentric point of view, in the linear fashion of a continuous route from one place to the next (like an itinerary). The distances that mattered to Kiechel were those he had to travel. This suggests that the dimensions of actual geographical space, i.e., the size of Europe and the extent of the lands he crossed, were most likely lost on him, or rather, outside the scope of his perception. For example, soon Kiechel would meet two English merchants, and they would travel together to Pskov in Russia. During his time there, Kiechel would casually mention that he had planned to travel to Moscow. But only when German merchants in Pskov told him how far it was and that there was nothing worthwhile to see along the way did he reconsider and decide against it. For us today, it is obvious that Moscow is quite some distance from the Baltic coast, and a quick look at a map would confirm it. But Samuel Kiechel did not have these options.

With these issues in mind, getting lost on a journey had a very different dimension than it does today. For Samuel Kiechel, it was not just a matter of ‘taking the wrong turn’. Kiechel described getting lost and spending hours trying to find his way. He might have quickly stumbled upon a road or path, but without road signs, how could he be sure it was the right one? And in which direction lay his destination? So, most likely, he would have to find someone who could point him to the next settlement.

In addition, rumours and certain stereotypes had greater influence on a traveller who was utterly dependent on local people to find his way. Kiechel repeatedly mentioned the danger of banditry and ambushes. Sometimes, this danger was real, as when he travelled through the Spanish Netherlands. At other times, it was more likely a common association of the time that dense forests were the home of outlaws.

As a result, Samuel Kiechel’s journey meandered through Europe and the eastern Mediterranean (see map). For a modern traveller, there would be more practical and efficient routes to connect all his major destinations, even if we discount modern means of transport. But the sixteenth century did not offer such tools. And even if a route could be planned, Kiechel’s experience shows it would soon be abandoned. He repeatedly wrote that he could not find companions to reach a specific destination and had to take a different route instead.

Other travellers of the time travelled with permanent companions, a teacher, a family member or a servant, and likely one of them had some experience with travelling and some knowledge about the world. But Kiechel went alone and chose companions along the way. This made his journey a constant stop-and-go whenever a temporary companion left him. It carried the danger of travelling with untrustworthy or even dangerous people, with supposed guides who did not know the way. But it also had benefits. Kiechel could change destinations on a whim when he heard about a worthwhile place, without needing a companion’s approval. He was also forced to step outside his comfort zone, even though this journey was already far beyond it. Needing guides to take him to his destination, Kiechel could not be choosy. Soon, he will travel with a Tatar to Vilnius and onward to Riga. The two men did not speak each other’s language, but Tatars worked as carters and the man knew the road.

But first, Samuel Kiechel would leave Danzig, travel to Königsberg (Kaliningrad), and then onwards through the wilderness of East Prussia to Grodno (Hrodna).

Arrival and Accommodation

Danzig, 1625

Having left Rostock, Samuel Kiechel had travelled along the Baltic coast through Pomerania and arrived in Danzig (Gdańsk¹). Part of the way, he rode in a coach with two Dutchmen, among other passengers. Apparently, he got along well with them, and they decided to help Samuel with accommodation in the city.

Kiechel wrote that he stayed at the house of Johannes de Rad, a Dutchman originally from Deventer who had become a citizen of Danzig. De Rad was a merchant, and his house was not an inn but private accommodation; he opened it only to friends and good acquaintances. Kiechel’s companions knew de Rad and took our traveller along to his house. Samuel appreciated it and noted that his host was a pleasant and accommodating man, that his house was clean, that the food was good, and that the place was well worth the money.²

St. Mary’s Church and the town hall of Danzig, 1615

The journal hints that Johannes de Rad’s house was near St. Mary’s Church. Kiechel mentioned that a new, beautiful organ had just been installed in a church opposite his accommodation and was being played for the first time.³ In 1585, construction of a new organ in St. Mary’s Church had just finished. At the time, it was one of the largest organs in the Baltic Sea area.

Observations

Samuel Kiechel wrote that Danzig is the capital of Prussia, but under the protection of the King of Poland.

The city is actually in the historic province of Pomerania. However, following the Second Peace of Thorn in 1466 (see above), the territories the Teutonic Knights had to surrender to Poland became the new province of Royal Prussia. Danzig was the largest, wealthiest and most powerful city in this new province.

Kiechel further noted: Danzig is heavily fortified. Outside the walls are two high hills, and from their summits, the whole city can be observed. The hills are called Hagelsberg and Bischofsberg. King Stephan of Poland and his troops occupied both hills during their siege of the city. Danzig was bombarded by cannon fire from the hills, but the shots either passed over the city or struck its walls. Kiechel mentioned that he had not seen walls of similar height and thickness anywhere else. The walls were especially sturdy towards the two hills.⁴

Our traveller continued: On the opposite side of Danzig are two rivers. The Motława flows through the city, and the Vistula passes nearby. The Vistula is an impressive river that flows through Poland. The Motława flows into the Vistula just outside Danzig. About an hour downriver, the Vistula in turn flows into the Baltic Sea. At the point where the river meets the sea stands a small, round house. The house is garrisoned by soldiers from Danzig and protects access to the Vistula and the city’s harbour. The King of Poland attempted to take this house during the siege but was unsuccessful; otherwise, the siege would have ended badly for Danzig.⁵

Kiechel further observed that Danzig has three suburbs. One lies close to the city wall, towards Königsberg (east). The other two are a short distance from the walls. One is called Schottland and the other Schidlitz. Both have been rebuilt recently because Polish troops burned them down during the siege. Craftsmen, mostly Dutch shoemakers, inhabit Schottland. A narrow stream runs through this suburb towards the city. Schidlitz is also mostly inhabited by Dutch people. It is surrounded by pleasant gardens and lovely summer houses belonging to the citizens of Danzig.⁶

Danzig and its surrounding area, 1629

This map from 1625 shows Danzig and its surroundings, including all the places Samuel Kiechel mentioned. The map is oriented towards the east. In the upper-right corner is a legend identifying various places around the city. On the left edge of the map is the mouth of the Vistula into the Baltic Sea, with the fortified tower that protects it. In the bottom centre is the suburb of Schottland (Stare Szkoty). The suburb was named after Scottish migrants who settled there. It stretches along a valley between two lines of hills. Among the hills are the Bischofsberg (Biskupia Górka) and the Hagelsberg (Grodzisko), from which Danzig was bombarded during the siege. Schottland is marked with the letter R on the map, the Bischofsberg with an S, and the Hagelsberg with a T. On the right side of the map is the suburb of Schidlitz (Siedlce), marked with a P.

Danzig’s Grain Trade

Regarding Danzig’s economy, Samuel Kiechel wrote: The city’s main commodity is grain arriving along the Vistula River from Poland. No other city trades such large amounts of grain. Sometimes, fifty to sixty ships from Holland arrive in a single day to load grain in Danzig. No foreigners are allowed to buy grain directly from Poles. It must first be sold to a citizen of Danzig, who, in turn, must store it in one of the city’s granaries before exporting it.⁸

Kiechel continued: Many such granaries stand on one side of the Motława River. Some are seven, eight, or even nine storeys high and can hold huge amounts of grain. Ships sail up the river and moor right beside the granaries. However, a few of the very largest ships can only be partially loaded there because of the shallow water. They have to be fully loaded at sea. Such ships sail to Spain and Portugal.⁹

The granaries along the Motława River, 1625

Danzig was the major port of the Kingdom of Poland. As Kiechel noted, grain was grown in Poland and Prussia and transported along the Vistula to Danzig. The city held a privilege called the “Stapelrecht” (staple right). All goods passing through had to be unloaded and offered for sale to citizens. In the case of grain, it had to be transferred into the city’s granaries. Many of Danzig’s impressive granaries along the Motława remain today.