The text describes a journey to Palanga, located in Samogitia's Grobin district. The town itself, as mentioned by the author of the text, has mainly one monument - a larch church founded by Anna Jagiellonka. In addition to this, nearby is the so-called Mount Biruty with a chapel (Source: Tygodnik Illustrowany, Warsaw 1878, Series 3, T:5, pp. 118-119, 131-132, after: Digital Library of the University of Łódź).

A modernised reading of the text

Palanga and Mount Birutė.

Having been advised by doctors to have sea baths, I searched for a place in the country that could provide them at a price affordable to my pocket.

One of the doctors pointed out to me the town of Palanga, but apart from the information that it was situated by the Baltic Sea and in Samogitia, he was unable to explain anything more.

So I went to acquaintances and strangers I thought might know Palanga, but all these attempts taught me little. I still had an encyclopaedia in reserve, which says only this much:
"Palanga, a town in the Grobin district, in the Kurland province by the Baltic sea, 3 versts from the Prussian border, 1,500 inhabitants, 1 Catholic church, a synagogue, sea baths, arranged and visited, amber products and amber trade, reaching 60,000 rs. a year.

About a mile from Palanga there is a mountain Biruta, famous from legends. Palanga, once an ancient port and district town of Samogitia, remembered by the defeat of the Teutonic Knights in 1409, was until the 18th century the only port in Lithuania with significant foreign trade. This port was destroyed by the Swedes Palanga after year 1 Kurlandyi."

Having already informed myself from maps as to which way and how best to get to Palanga, I set off on a journey on the Warsaw-Petersburg railway, and seizing the opportunity, went to Vilnius to get to know the chief town of Lithuania.

It is strange that we have so few picturesque descriptions of Vilnius so far; yet it seems to me that none of the cities of present and former Poland possesses surroundings worthy of dedicating pen and pencil to them.
Anyone can purchase works such as Mr Ordy's "Album of views"; the "Tygodnik Ilustrowany" does well to publish quite often descriptions and drawings of Vilnius and its environs.

However, I will not go into details here; I will only say that Vilnius has so many beauties, set as if in a frame of hills piled one above the other, that one does not know what to admire more: the picture or the frame. For those who find themselves in a similar position to me, that is, having to manage on their own, I will say a few more words to help them orient themselves on their travels.

On the northern side, from the suburb of Snipiška, there is a road leading to the Sheškinė Mountain, from which there is a beautiful view of the town and Calvary. Another road from the same suburb leads to the estate of Prince Wittgenstein, the former zoo of the Radziwill dukes. From another road, next to the Szeskini Mountain, the view of the countryside is extensive and delightful; similar views can be seen from the neighbouring mountains, dotted with woods, a river, houses scattered here and there, and even a dump.

On the south-eastern side, beyond the bridge, there are lofty, wooded mountains on one side, and fields with the meandering Wilejka on the other; further on there are houses and a forest, and behind us there is the town, with such an alluring mosaic of views that it is difficult to part with it all.

And there are so many other sights to see: Verkiai, Belmont, Leoniszki, Puszkarnia, Markucie, and finally the Ponar Mountains, from which the town is wonderfully depicted in the depths of a ravine. On the other side, picturesque Antakalnis, Užupis, and on the way, a high mound called Gediminas' grave, towering over the surroundings, and finally Zakręt.

Vilnius is situated in a ravine, surrounded on three sides by mountains, still mostly covered with forests, and from each of them the view pays off generously. Wanting to see everything in a relatively short period of time, this is how I managed: I hired a cab driver for the whole day for rs. 3 a day for a carriage driver, who took me to the indicated places, usually uphill; there, having left the vehicle, I continued my journey on foot. In this way, I managed to get around the main areas in one day. I devoted the second day to sightseeing the city, using the description of Vilnius by Kirkor, which I had bought from an antique dealer for a fairly reasonable price.

From Vilnius, having returned to Landvarov, I changed to the Kaunas road, and from the station of Koszedary to the Libava road. The road from Landvarov to Koshvedary is in no way inferior, in terms of views, to the one from Landvarov to Vilnius. Wanting to have a closer look at Samogitia, I got off at the station Okmysia and on a cart hired from a peasant, harnessed with a pair of miserable chabets, I drove 6 miles across to the Mitava road, which I had already used to reach Libava.

I encountered the old, cordial hospitality of which Samogitia is so rightly proud in the person of the parish priest in Okmiany, Father Ż., who not only welcomed the stranger, hosted him wholeheartedly, but also did not want to let him go.
The people of Samogitia are quiet, silent, they look at a stranger with distrust and not only do they not come out, but they even answer in monosyllables and it is difficult to get anything out of them.

He also farms in the old fashioned way, and a socha and a wooden harrow are the only farming tools he knows. In general, the people are literate; of the younger generation, almost all of them I saw in church praying on books, I understand Samogitian; however, I did not notice the former piety, nor the crosses that used to be so numerous here. As I had not seen Samogitia for 30 years, I found the changes great, but, unfortunately, negative.

Libava, or rather Lipawa - as people call the town Lipoje and the name comes from the linden trees, of which there are indeed many in the town - is a purely German settlement; other than German, no other speech can be heard anywhere. The town is quite large and has a convenient harbour for smaller ships, equipped with a lighthouse.
A large park between the town and the railway station provides a pleasant stroll.

The town is built at the end of a long cape, flanked on one side by the sea, on the other by a bay, stretching up to 10 versts, and passing gradually into individual lakes and finally marshes. The square, park and linden avenues leading into the town are very carefully kept and tasteful; the order in the streets is exemplary, cleanliness evident in the main town; the suburbs, on the other hand, are not inferior in neglect to our small towns.

To the sea, about two versts from the centre of the town; the road is not very pleasant. At the baths, the order is not very exemplary, although they make you pay well, and you sometimes have to wait a long time for a bathing stall. However, dwellings quite cheap and life is inexpensive.

Having found myself in Lipava, I went by omnibus to Palanga. The very beginning of the journey anticipated me very well. Imagine sitting comfortably in an omnibus; the sea air, with its characteristic smell of iodine, coming from discarded sea moss, and the road first along the seashore, but in such a way that the wheels of the omnibus were literally hit by snowmen from one side.
As the sea was slightly rolling and the day bright, so I strained to see the marvellous play of colours, past the two-mile drive on sand; but it wasn't our sand that the wheels and horses bogged down in.

The sand on the seashore itself, constantly wetted by water, is so cohesive that only a trace of the wheels and horseshoes remains; so the omnibus rolls along as if on a table, without the slightest tremor.I sincerely regretted it when it came time to move away from the sea and onto the road. Driving the omnibus without springs, I had already felt sorry for my old bones; but I had no idea of the roads there, which ours could not match. This is due not only to the abundance of very fine gravel, but also to the care taken by the local municipal authorities for the roads. The fact that this is indeed the case can be proved by the fact that - in one village, where there is no abundance of gravel, I saw more than a mile of road paved with some small roots, which, compacted together, formed a deck, just as if it was asphalted. In a word, several miles of road did not feel like asphalt at all.

Returning to my journey, however, I did not soon regret the sea, as we entered a forest that stretched all the way to Palanga, that is, for eight miles, with very few breaks. A delicious road! The stand of trees was changing one by one: pines, birch, firs, they were alternately carving out their dominion. But what magnificent pines and firs! Here and there, a plain, a village with a church, a little glade with a hut and a river running down to the sea; meadows and fields delight the eye, and the air refreshes the dusty city lungs.

Finally, after 18 hours of travel, including an overnight stay, we reached the end of the journey without incident.
The town of Palanga, apart from the larch church founded by Anna Jagiellonka, has no monuments that would say anything about its antiquity. One long street, or rather the most rural houses, stretches on one side of the road for a mile and a half; this is the so-called Old Palanga, with which the town proper is directly connected, with a road leading eastwards to Kretinga and a few backstreets to the west, leading to the sea. This forms the centre of the town, with a small market square, one side of which is occupied by the post office with the customs house and the magistrate's office, the second by an amber factory, the third by a restaurant and the fourth by a cemetery surrounding the church.

Next to it are the buildings of the priests and the municipal administration, a river, or rather a muddy stream; behind it the street continues, except that it has more decent houses; finally, the manor house of the heir, with a large garden, to which the inhabitants and guests are allowed to enter - that is all. At the entrance, the forest ends, at the exit it begins again and stretches to the Prussian border, which is about a mile and a half from the town. The town itself is in the shape of a cross, as is the church, which has 7 altars with quite tolerable paintings.

The sea is very close, as it is only separated by a sandy coast and a pine forest. In this forest, about half a mile from the town, is Mount Biruty, a conical hill with a truncated top. There is a similar hill at the other end of the town, where they bury drowned people thrown out by the sea. I have not been able to find out what the purpose of this hill was in the past; nor has anyone been able to tell me where and what battles took place here or where the port was.

As for the mountain of Birutė, we were told that there was a temple of the goddess Milda, who looked after the cattle, and a grove dedicated to Perkun, where the eternal candle was lit; that the fairy goddess was the beautiful daughter of Kriwe-Kriivta Birutė, who later became the wife of Kiejstutė. The Zhmudians and Latvians used to gather here once a year, at the beginning of spring, bringing with them their belongings, and having made an offering, they led their horses, cows etc. around the mountain, which was supposed to protect them from falling. This custom still persists on St George's Day, although it has begun to decline in recent years. Crowds of people gather on St. George's Day with their belongings, without distinction of religion, and, after prayers, lead the animals around the mountain. Today, there is a beautiful chapel on the mountain in the shape of a rotunda, with an altar housing a statue of the Virgin Mary.

After the introduction of the Christian faith, Anne Jagiellon demolished the pagan temple on Mount Biruty and erected a chapel in which the image of St George was placed.

Time destroyed the chapel; the image was moved to the church and a cross was erected on the mountain. The predecessor of the present vicar, the late Fr Stefanowicz, from voluntary contributions, and apparently most from his own funds, after removing various obstacles, erected the present chapel; who knows, however, whether the fruit of his labour and efforts would not have been lost if it had not been for the present vicar, Fr. Józef Szurkowski, who took special care of the mountain and the chapel, covered the slopes with sea moss, which made it possible to plant them with grass, replanted the slopes and foothills with trees, tidied up the summit, arranged the barracks and comfortable stairs and benches for resting.

By doing so, he protected the monument from people and winds, which, with human complicity, would destroy the old monument, just as they destroy the hill at the other end of the city. The heir, Count Jozef Tyshkevich, who was most willing to help and provide the necessary material, also made a great contribution to bringing this order. Father Szurkowski's care for this memento is so evident that everyone, having asked to whom the credit was due, considers it their duty to shake the good priest's hand and to contribute by a donation to the maintenance of order, in gratitude for the hours that can be spent with pleasure and comfort on the mountain. The view of the sea from there is magnificent, and the benches are arranged in such a way that both shade and shelter from the wind can be found there. The sunset from this mountain is wonderful.

Fr Szurkowski's zeal extends not only to the chapel and the mountain. The parish church also owes a lot to him. The parishioners love him and willingly support his efforts. Here, too, two landlords have donated 100 roubles for the painting of St Joseph, with which they would like to replace St John of Capistrano. I am even asked to find someone who would like to contribute to the Palanga church with his work and talent; but the sum is so small that I have so far knocked in vain on the artists' door.

Returning to Mount Biruta and the chapel, I must mention two circumstances.

In the chapel, framed, there is an inscription in the Samogitian language that reads literally: "In the year 1869, in October, thanks to the efforts of the parish priest of Palanga, Konstantin Stefanovich, the chapel on Mount Birutė was completed by the architect from Prussia, Karol Majer."

The reason for its re-erection was the devotion of the people to this place, as from the earliest times of Christianity in Samogitia this place was constantly and always respected. It is said that once upon a time there was Znicz on this mountain, and when Christendom was introduced to Žmujdě, a parish church was built at the beginning of the 16th century just outside the town of Palanga in 1506, according to Anna Jagiellonka's charter, on the same spot where it remains today:

"This mountain, where Znicz used to be, and where the chapel is today, is more than a mile away from the church, i.e. about 500 fathoms. The Zhmujdzinians, although already Christian, did not forget their pagan customs and often visited this mountain. The Christian clergy, fearing that they might fall back into the old idolatry, built a church on the mountain under the title of St. George, and after the destruction of this temple, a small wooden chapel was erected on the spot, after which the present one was built from voluntary donations made over many years.".

Every Sunday and feast day, after the service in the church, the village women descend on the mountain and sing devotional songs. The note of these songs is sorrowful, longing and mournful, as if a complaint, as if a regret for the past, which, combined with the accompaniment of the sea, the place, the view and that painful figure in the altar, has such a powerful effect on the spectator and the listener that it is impossible to remain indifferent. As for me, I sometimes listened to these songs for several hours at a time, and it should be added that the people of Samogitia know how to sing. They have an innate disposition for singing and a sense of harmony; I have never heard them sing in unison, whether in a mass in church or even in a few: they immediately break up the melody into voices. Thus such a choir in church makes an unevenly more pleasant impression than it does here.

Back to the city. Today it is difficult to get an idea of what Palanga used to be like. There are no traces of it. Nowadays it is just a town, more like a settlement, with only a church, a manor house and a baths, hardly visited and forgotten, as we will see later. The local population consists of Samogitians and a small number of Latvians. The former are farmers, the latter are labourers or servants.

Their livestock is scarce due to lack of fodder; they use sea moss as fertiliser. This moss is thrown out in masses by the sea after a strong storm and everyone grabs it as and where they can, as it is the basis of fertility. Such moss is spread thinly over the land, meadows and gardens, and yield is certain for several years, even on clean sand. This is the reason why everyone is fighting for it, as not every year the sea provides it in equal abundance. As the sandy soil yields little, every farmer here is a fisherman. Their boldness, contempt for danger and knowledge of the sea is astonishing. They would make brave sailors; therefore, on the initiative of Count J. Tyszkiewicz, a school for mayors is to be established in his estate, at the mouth of the Holy River.

The other part of the population is made up of Jews, who, as everywhere, are engaged in trade and craft. Here their special occupation is the processing of amber. The sea throws out very small pieces and in very small quantities together with the moss. It is supplied only by rivers flowing into the sea, especially those located in Prussia. From this one could conclude that the amber in the sea is inflowing, transferred from the rivers. The local amber factory employs one hundred and several dozen workers and trades its products mainly with the Empire, or through it with Asia. The annual turnover is about 200,000 roubles. There are some artistically made products.

There are very few Germans and Russians in Palanga and they are only clerks. The common language is Samogitian, but many also speak Polish. Count Tyszkiewicz's officials are all native speakers, with the exception of the gardener.

In general, Count Tyszkiewicz must be given credit for defending the country from our Germanic civilisers with all his might. His estate is the only coast of the Baltic Sea in the possession of a native Pole, and although he was offered a very considerable sum for this property, not only did he not sell it, but he even outbid the Germans to buy the great estate of Kretinga, having paid more than its value. He is also busy raising the national wealth, as we found in Palanga Mr. Michal Girdwojn, a well-known naturalist and author, who is negotiating with Count Tyszkiewicz to establish an artificial oyster and fiat farm in Palanga.

The breeding of oysters would indeed be artificial and, as Mr. Girdwojn explained, completely possible. Hr. Tyszkiewicz also tried to transfer to inland waters and propagate seals. The attempt was not very successful, but I saw two huge specimens, at his estate in Landwarow, living freely in the local lake. Mr. Girdwojń also made a deal with Count Plater, temporarily staying in Palanga, to establish an artificial fish farm on his estate.

Whether all these agreements came to fruition, which would be desirable, I do not know, but as far as I have heard, the good intentions of the interested parties were not lacking, and as for Mr Girdwojn, he is devoted to science and has devoted himself completely to his speciality, which he would like to use for the country, despite the more favourable conditions offered to him abroad.

I have also heard that Count Plater, being an expert in antiquities and already having an excellent collection, is to acquire the collection of the late Mr Podczaszyński.

As a bathing place, Palanga is superior to all other places on the Baltic Sea in terms of the shape of its shores and location. In the first place all the places in the country are more northerly, while in Prussia the shores have a different position, so that in Palanga the waves are only western and consequently warmer, while in all the others they are more northerly and therefore colder.

In Palanga the coast is beautiful, the sea is so close that even the weakest one can reach it without any trouble, while in Lipawa for example you need to be very healthy. Besides, Palanga is surrounded by a pine and fir forest, which gives such invigorating air that it is difficult to find anywhere else. It is true that the baths are not warm, but Palanga is not for those suffering from lung diseases, it is a treatment for the nervous, and its effects are excellent, as I have experienced on myself and others, even on children.

Besides, the peace, quiet and unobtrusive walks have a great influence on upset nerves. Naturally, those who look for bathing fun will not find it in Palanga. There is a doctor and a very decent chemist's, and its owner is an excellent bathing practitioner. I owe a lot to his willing and disinterested advice. He himself says that in his pharmacy there are no medicines for bathing guests, because the sea, air and walk are better. The cost of living is as follows: accommodation for a season from one room, with furniture and service, 30 roubles; living about 1 rouble a day; local costs 5 gr.; travel there and back 30, so that a six-week stay can cost per person at most 120 roubles, excluding unforeseen or unnecessary expenses.

It is to be hoped that Palanga will regain its former glory, as its old inhabitants remember and as it most richly deserves. I am sure that its owner would be willing to contribute to some of the improvements and conveniences, as last year he selflessly donated a huge house for a restaurant and a meeting place. There was just no one to either gather or dine. Two came from the Kingdom, a dozen people from Samogitian citizenship, several families of officials from Kaunas and other places, and finally some Jews.

The local doctor, Mr B., should make Palanga known to our public as a healthy place; even, as far as I recall, he willingly promised to do so. However, since I have not yet found anything like that in the papers, I have decided to share with the general public such news as I can afford, and I will be grateful to myself if this weak voice of mine encourages anyone to seek relaxation in Palanga after work and to strengthen their weakened strength.