Kraków: Is there an Ornithologist in the House?
My wife and I have been taking one longer journey away from Warsaw every month. It would have been ideal if Kościuszko could have joined us on these adventures, but to date there was always some consideration that has affected those plans. In the case of Torún, the hotel wouldn’t take him (see the post). When we went to Kazimierz Dolny, the roads were simply not suitable for Kościuszko (see the post). This month our plan was to travel by rail to Kraków. The roads there would allow for a beautiful ride along the Vistula, but the journey by train meant Kościuszko would be hanging upside down from what were essentially meat hooks in another railroad car, defenseless, alone and separated from us. None of us felt comfortable with this option, so once again, Kościuszko stayed at home.
Kraków is a remarkable destination. It was the historic capital of Poland until 1596, and is, perhaps, the most visited city in Poland. Kraków's Old Town and the castle above it were among the first UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Its beauty, history and cultural attractions are stunning. I recommend you visit and spend at least four or five nights and leave it to you to research the many possible tourist options. This short blog cannot do the city justice.
We arrived well after dark on a Friday night. Checking into the hotel and feeling energetic, we ventured out into Old Town to explore and to find a meal. We hit upon Restauracje "The Mexican", one in a small chain of eight restaurants flung across Poland. There we enjoyed sizzling and spicy fajitas, accompanied by live Mexican tunes from a Peruvian duet. Before our food arrived we even managed to dance a rumba, to the delight of the musicians and ourselves. People on the street even stopped to watch. It was a pleasant way to end the day...
...But the day wasn't over. After retiring, sounds from the street continued for many hours, as did something else: the birds. It was already midnight and the sounds of songbirds and ducks (yes, ducks) grew louder and louder as human sounds died down. Perhaps this is normal, but it was a first for me. I have heard the occasional nocturnal bird in my wanderings (nightingales, robins, etc.), but not like this! Finally, around 2 AM it grew quiet enough to forget the birds, only to be awakened around 5 AM by avian morning song! I surmised that there were either great numbers of nocturnal birds with which I am unfamiliar or--more likely--that increases in night sky brightness caused by light pollution was confusing the diurnal and crepuscular species of the area.
After a great night's sleep (despite the birds) and wonderful breakfast, off we went to the heart of Old Town. We walked about there, admiring the buildings, ambling through the large market place, snapping photos as we went. We eventually decided that to get a better perspective on the entire town, we would splurge for a city tour. There are scores of these "golf cart tours" ready to take your money and show you selected sights from the city. We were fortunate enough to find a convivial fellow named Robert, son of Zbigniew, son of Ludwig as our driver. (Yes, there is a story there!) He gave us a tour of both Old Town and Kazimierz, the Old Jewish Quarter of Kraków prior to World War II. This overview of the city lasted just a bit longer than an hour and gave us a good idea of all the things we wouldn't be able to see during our short stay!
At the end of our tool-about-town, rather than returning to Old Town Square, Robert dropped us off at Wawel Castle at our request. When he pulled to the side of the road, he turned around to address us directly (this is unusual), excitedly pointing ahead to a large monument of a man on horseback. "That man is the best known Polish hero--his name is Kościuszko!" We laughed and replied that Kościuszko was the best known Polish-American hero, the name of my bicycle and the inspiration for my blog. I showed him the blog and we all deeply smiled at something that bridged any possible cultural divide. We said our goodbyes. Robert drove off to find other fares and we walked towards Kościuszko and the north gate of Wawel Castle.
Wawel Castle, as you might have guessed, is on a hill and overlooks a river. The hill, appropriately, is called Wawel Hill and the river is--of course--the Vistula. It is a perfect site for a city and the old Stone Age town that began in this place eventually grew and added a gord (fortified wooden enclosure) and then a castle, in the same way as Warsaw, Tórun, Kazimierz Dolny and Czersk, all of which I’ve written about in earlier posts. None of these other cities, however, can compare with the size of the castle and fortifications in Kraków.
The Wawel Castle, the largest (I believe) in Poland, was begun during the reign of King Casimir III the Great (1310-1370), and is composed of a number of structures including a cathedral, museum, residences, armory, and so on. There is also an impressive Italian courtyard. A number of different architectural genres are represented in the construction, including Medieval, Renaissance and Baroque, representing subsequent additions and renovations to the original structure.
Naturally, our first stop was on the causeway up and into the castle for a view of the Kościuszko monument at the Herb Gate (Brama Herbowa na Wawelu). The monument is quite large, but is also placed quite high above the walkway, towering over any who enter, and making a close look impossible. Still, it was wonderful to see yet another reminder of this remarkable man.
We roamed the grounds slowly, soaking up the various views and wondering about bygone days. This was a wonderful experience in itself, but we knew that Kościuszko's crypt was under the cathedral, so we purchased inexpensive entry tickets that would allow us to view the interior of the Wawel Cathedral (Katedra Wawelska), climb the bell tower, and visit the royal crypts. Incidentally, the Wawel Cathedral has an official name, rarely used: The Royal Archcathedral Basilica of Saints Stanislaus and Wenceslaus on Wawel Hill (Królewska bazylika archikatedralna śś. Stanisława i Wacława na Wawelu). Just so you know, Wawel Cathedral works just fine.
We entered the old Gothic cathedral, along with a throng of other guests. Everything therein is designed to take your breath away, with the perhaps obvious intent to bring one in touch with the divine. However, while most people seemed to be looking up at the gilded alter, sacristy, various architectural intricacies and gold adornments, I looked down. The thing that struck me, more than anything else were the floors. The once smooth and flat marble floors had become highly polished and rutted from the feet of thousands of visitors. I very much would have liked to have been in the cathedral, alone and barefoot. That would have been the desired religious experience for me, but was not meant to be.
We shuffled toward the rear of the cathedral and I made a conscious effort to stay in the groove of the floor as a form of awkward self-amusement. We passed a narrow guarded archway and, following a squad (9 men) from some Polish military organization on leave, made our way up the narrow, steep and tortuous wooden steps of the Sigismund Tower, past its first four large bells to the top, grabbing tightly the oaken handrails, equally as polished as the marble floors below from millions of other hands sliding along for security on the climb.
Once at the top we were treated to an up close view of the Royal Sigismund Bell (Królewski Dzwon Zygmunt), a 13-ton bronze instrument requiring a dozen strong people to swing and ring. I had the thought to ask the squad of soldiers if they could do the job three men short, just so we could hear the bell, but also had read that people had been injured and died trying to ring the bell without the requisite strength (pulled right off the ground by a 13 ton force and flung through the air)! You can see how large the rim of the bell and the striker is in the picture to the left. I'm told these bells can be heard 30 miles (48 km) away, a claim I don't doubt!
Turning our backs to the bell, we had a commanding view north into the city. From this point the only way was down, and so down we went by a different, even steeper route, taking extra care on the descent. Reaching the bottom, we were led around the perimeter of the cathedral through at least six separate chapels, the most impressive of which was probably the Renaissance-era Sigismund's Chapel (Kaplica Zygmuntowska). From the outside Sigismund's Chapel is the one with the gold dome (see exterior photo further above). Each of these chapels was a final resting place for a Polish king; and each has an interesting story to tell about the history of Poland.
Eventually we reached the descending stairs to the Royal Crypts (Groby Królewskie). There was more royalty here, of course, each individual (or husband/wife pair) having their own unique crypt. It was really quite impressive to see so much energy devoted to such a thing. In front of us there was a large Polish tour group, the leader devoting extensive time to descriptions of certain of the crypt's occupants and barely mentioning others. This was rather the point: knowing the stories of the occupants was the key to this being an interesting experience... We descended another half flight of stairs and found ourselves in another room (along with the tour group). Lo and Behold! Kościuszko! He had quite an ornate crypt and was one of the few covered with flowers. The crowds were thick, though, and we were eventually pushed along. My advice: do these things on weekdays, whenever possible, to avoid crowds.
I wasn't satisfied and I couldn't let it rest. I had to go back. I needed more time in that room. The flow of people seemed to subside briefly, so I returned to the room with Kościuszko and unbelievably I found myself alone. I heard a group beginning to descend the stairs above and knew the moment would soon be lost. Thirty seconds, it's all I had!
I wasn’t sure if photography was allowed. Photography wasn’t allowed in the cathedral above, but I saw no signs down below prohibiting me. I did it! The photograph to the right was the result. A few deep breaths, a silent pat of the hand on the cold stone, and adieu. What an experience!
In peaceful repose next to Kościuszko's crypt was another Polish hero of mine: Prince Józef Antoni Poniatowski (1763-1813), a name that outside of Poland probably isn’t known unless you happen to be an aficionado of Napoleonic Europe (I would be one of those people). Poniatowski was the nephew of King Stanisław II Augustus and started a career in the military at the age of 17. He served first with the Austrian Empire and then later commanded the southern forces of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth during the Polish-Russian War of 1792. Poniatowski, and Kościuszko who was his subordinate during this time, were both successful during the war, although it ultimately ended in the Polish defeat leading to the Second Partition.
It was only a few years later, in 1794, when Poniatowski joined Kościuszko in the unsuccessful uprising that began in the Kraków's Main Square (see picture below). In spite of a string of victories, Kościuszko's forces were defeated, and Kościuszko himself was severely wounded, captured by the Russians and imprisoned in Peter and Paul fortress in St. Petersburg. The uprising ended shortly thereafter at the Battle of Praga (a neighborhood of Warsaw), in which more than 20,000 Varsovian residents were massacred by Russian troops. Poniatowski was wounded, his estate confiscated and he was banished from Poland. The result for Poland was the third and final partition, in which Poland ceased to exist as a sovereign state.
Fast forward a dozen years and witness the meteoric rise of Napoleon Bonaparte. After Napoleon's stunning victory over the Prussians at Jena-Auerstedt in 1806, leading to the latter's subjugation, Napoleon created the Duchy of Warsaw in 1807. Kościuszko and Poniatowski each responded differently to Napoleon’s political creation. Kościuszko was skeptical, even mistrustful of Napoleon’s sincerity that Napoleon wanted a truly independent, Polish state. Kościuszko saw the move as political scheming to support Napoleon’s plans for domination of Russia. Kościuszko wrote to Napoleon, asking for assurances and demanding guarantees, a letter to which Napoleon never responded. In the end, Kościuszko neither moved back to the Duchy of Warsaw nor did he join Napoleon's army.
Poniatowski was a bit more optimistic about Napoleon, hoping that by working with and fighting for France and succeeding, that the dream of an independent Poland would become a reality. Poniatowski's decision to be loyal to Napoleon allowed him to quickly rise in esteem, becoming the Minister of War and Head of the army of the Duchy.
As Napoleon planned for the invasion of Russia, Poniatowski, joined Napoleon’s Grande Armée, and in 1812 was promoted to command of the V Corps, composed of 36,000 Poles. During the subsequent invasion, Poniatowski and the Poles did sterling duty all along the route de marche to Moscow, distinguishing themselves at every turn. At the Battle of Borodino on 7 September 1812, Poniatowski’s Polish troops attacked on the right flank at Utitsa Mound, eventually breaking through the Russian lines at dusk. Ten days later, it was the Poles of Poniatowski's V Corps who first entered Moscow, ahead of the rest of the Grande Armée.
Of course, we know that these small, victorious highlights did nothing to change the ill-fated invasion. Once the failure of the Russian campaign was evident and Napoleon ordered the retreat from Moscow (in bleak, Russian winter), it was Poniatowski and the Poles that most often formed the rearguard, holding off constant Cossack attacks, nipping at the heels of the survivors. Poniatowski was eventually wounded and was sent back to Warsaw ahead of his remaining soldiers, fewer than 4000 of whom returned from Russia. While recovering from his wounds, Poniatowski tried to rebuild the Polish army, decimated by the Russian Campaign. By the summer of 1813 he was campaigning with Napoleon again, commanding the VIII Corps, comprised of the rebuilt Polish army. On 16 October 1813, on the first day of the Battle of Leipzig, Napoleon promoted Poniatowski to a Marshal of the Empire (Maréchal d'Empire), the most prestigious military title one could hold at the time. The Battle of Leipzig, however, was a disaster for Napoleon and Poniatowski was once again entrusted to protect Napoleon's forces in retreat. After being wounded several times Poniatowski drowned crossing the White Elster river on 19 October 1813.
Kościuszko lived on after Poniatowski's death, ultimately unsuccessful in freeing Poland from foreign domination. He died in Switzerland on 15 October 1817, after complications from falling off his horse. He was 71 years old.
I have noticed that in many cases in Poland (and often elsewhere in Europe) it is the death date of a famous individual that is observed. The rationale is easy to understand. A birthdate is a recognition of when an individual—at that moment of unrealized potential—enters the world. This certainly can be a cause for celebration. A death date, on the other hand, gives us pause to consider what the individual contributed over the course of their lifetime and to consider their importance to us personally and their legacy to the world. In the United States we rarely (if ever) celebrate death dates (possible exceptions include assassinations, which seem to be the unexpected end of possibility, rather than observance of lifetime contributions). No, instead birthdays remain the important celebrations.
My birthday is on October 16th and birthdays are always a time for reflection and contemplation on what has passed before and what the future holds. I ask myself where I've come from and where I'm going. I bear witness to yet another season of change. As part of that process, I recognize that the week is replete with other anniversaries of various sorts. In the case of this blog, if you've read this far, two relevant events cast a long shadow over our trip to Kraków: the deaths of Kościuszko and Poniatowski. Fortunate indeed was I to be at their crypts during this week in October, my birthday and their death days.
We cleared the crypts and found ourselves just outside the castle courtyard. We headed west towards the ramparts overlooking the Vistula and above what is called the Dragon's Den (Smocza Jama), a huge limestone cave in which the legendary Wawel dragon lived. Alas, with the rough-hewn city cobbles and the many flights of stairs my ankles and knees, weak from old injuries, wouldn't allow me to explore this aspect of Kraków history. Reluctantly we were forced to leave, exiting the castle by the Bernadine Gate (Brama Bernardyńska).
As our second day drew to a close we chose Indyjskie Ganesh (an Indian restaurant) as our dinner experience. We spent a long time enjoying conversation, food and the ambience of a gothic-era wine cellar. When we finally got back to the hotel for much-needed rest, the late evening Kraków city life was just ramping up. Through the window we could hear passersby, the sound of happiness and merriment and, of course, the birds. There will always be those birds!
Kraków, unlike many Polish cities, escaped relatively unscathed during the War. In part this is due to the fact that it was the seat of the German Occupation, called the General Government (Generalne Gubernatorstwo). There are two theories about why, when in 1945, as the Red Army approached, the city escaped undamaged. One theory is that a lighting strike by the skilled Soviet commander, Marshal Konev, enabled the Red Army to seize the city before the Nazis could destroy it. This was the prevailing explanation until rather recently, and it seems as though it was a story designed to advance an agenda. A more likely reason is that the German military, having ample time to prepare an organized retreat and wishing to avoid encirclement, did so by blowing key bridges and a dam, to cover their withdrawal. There was, in reality, no practical reason to stay and fight, and certainly no reason to waste resources (or time) to destroy the city, and so they didn’t. Regardless of the “why”, historic Kraków remains the beautiful city that it was in pre-war years. Remember, too, that although the cities' buildings were largely undamaged, the population was nonetheless affected. For example, forget not that approximately 65,000 Jews were forcibly removed from Kazimierz, put into a ghetto on the other side of the Vistula in Podgórze and then, eventually, sent to Auschwitz or other extermination camps.
As dawn came on our third day, we packed and went downstairs for another wonderful breakfast. We left the hotel sometime thereafter, exploring the other side of Old Town that we had neglected the day before including, most of all, the Kraków Barbican (Barbakan Krakowski), a medieval fortified structure that sits in front of the main city gate. All too soon, however, it was time to go to the train station. We had not enough time in Kraków for the many other wonderful things there are to see: Kazimierz, the Schindler factory, the monastery, the salt caves, the science center, and so much more, but unfortunately that is the nature of a weekend trip.
When we got on the train, the pale October sun was already low in the sky, shrouded in clouds and fog. It was cool and damp, a portent of the coming of winter. November was, after all, but a week away. As an aside for the linguistically curious, the Polish word for November is listopad, which means “falling leaves”. How appropriate to have meaningful names for months, rather than relying on silly and archaic Roman derivations with no connection whatsoever to our reality! Consider, for example, our month November, which is little more than for the Latin word novem, meaning nine. November is not, of course, our ninth month, although centuries ago, in one part of the world when calendars were inaccurate and our understanding of cycles less developed, it was. Likewise, our word December is from the Latin word decem, 'ten', you might recognize as related to the words decimal, decade, decimate and other words related to ten, although December is not our tenth month. What confusion we heap on inquiring minds with such words!
As we sped northwards, the Kraków uplands gradually gave way to the Masovian plain and the steely skies of the south gave way to late afternoon sunshine. The large tracts of birch trees were burdened with yellow leaves and the oaks already stood nearly naked, exposing the large clumps of mistletoe usually obscured during the summer months. Another adventure was coming to an end, as was the day, but it would be a long time before I’d ever forget spending part of my birthday week in Kraków with Kościuszko and Poniatowski, reflecting on their deeds, their love of Poland, and their hopes for an always free and independent country.
Kraków is a remarkable destination. It was the historic capital of Poland until 1596, and is, perhaps, the most visited city in Poland. Kraków's Old Town and the castle above it were among the first UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Its beauty, history and cultural attractions are stunning. I recommend you visit and spend at least four or five nights and leave it to you to research the many possible tourist options. This short blog cannot do the city justice.
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| Wawel Castle from St. Mary's Basilica. Source. |
We arrived well after dark on a Friday night. Checking into the hotel and feeling energetic, we ventured out into Old Town to explore and to find a meal. We hit upon Restauracje "The Mexican", one in a small chain of eight restaurants flung across Poland. There we enjoyed sizzling and spicy fajitas, accompanied by live Mexican tunes from a Peruvian duet. Before our food arrived we even managed to dance a rumba, to the delight of the musicians and ourselves. People on the street even stopped to watch. It was a pleasant way to end the day...
...But the day wasn't over. After retiring, sounds from the street continued for many hours, as did something else: the birds. It was already midnight and the sounds of songbirds and ducks (yes, ducks) grew louder and louder as human sounds died down. Perhaps this is normal, but it was a first for me. I have heard the occasional nocturnal bird in my wanderings (nightingales, robins, etc.), but not like this! Finally, around 2 AM it grew quiet enough to forget the birds, only to be awakened around 5 AM by avian morning song! I surmised that there were either great numbers of nocturnal birds with which I am unfamiliar or--more likely--that increases in night sky brightness caused by light pollution was confusing the diurnal and crepuscular species of the area.
After a great night's sleep (despite the birds) and wonderful breakfast, off we went to the heart of Old Town. We walked about there, admiring the buildings, ambling through the large market place, snapping photos as we went. We eventually decided that to get a better perspective on the entire town, we would splurge for a city tour. There are scores of these "golf cart tours" ready to take your money and show you selected sights from the city. We were fortunate enough to find a convivial fellow named Robert, son of Zbigniew, son of Ludwig as our driver. (Yes, there is a story there!) He gave us a tour of both Old Town and Kazimierz, the Old Jewish Quarter of Kraków prior to World War II. This overview of the city lasted just a bit longer than an hour and gave us a good idea of all the things we wouldn't be able to see during our short stay!
Wawel Castle, as you might have guessed, is on a hill and overlooks a river. The hill, appropriately, is called Wawel Hill and the river is--of course--the Vistula. It is a perfect site for a city and the old Stone Age town that began in this place eventually grew and added a gord (fortified wooden enclosure) and then a castle, in the same way as Warsaw, Tórun, Kazimierz Dolny and Czersk, all of which I’ve written about in earlier posts. None of these other cities, however, can compare with the size of the castle and fortifications in Kraków.
The Wawel Castle, the largest (I believe) in Poland, was begun during the reign of King Casimir III the Great (1310-1370), and is composed of a number of structures including a cathedral, museum, residences, armory, and so on. There is also an impressive Italian courtyard. A number of different architectural genres are represented in the construction, including Medieval, Renaissance and Baroque, representing subsequent additions and renovations to the original structure.
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| Chapels (front). Cathedral (behind). |
We entered the old Gothic cathedral, along with a throng of other guests. Everything therein is designed to take your breath away, with the perhaps obvious intent to bring one in touch with the divine. However, while most people seemed to be looking up at the gilded alter, sacristy, various architectural intricacies and gold adornments, I looked down. The thing that struck me, more than anything else were the floors. The once smooth and flat marble floors had become highly polished and rutted from the feet of thousands of visitors. I very much would have liked to have been in the cathedral, alone and barefoot. That would have been the desired religious experience for me, but was not meant to be.
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| Royal Sigismund Bell. |
Once at the top we were treated to an up close view of the Royal Sigismund Bell (Królewski Dzwon Zygmunt), a 13-ton bronze instrument requiring a dozen strong people to swing and ring. I had the thought to ask the squad of soldiers if they could do the job three men short, just so we could hear the bell, but also had read that people had been injured and died trying to ring the bell without the requisite strength (pulled right off the ground by a 13 ton force and flung through the air)! You can see how large the rim of the bell and the striker is in the picture to the left. I'm told these bells can be heard 30 miles (48 km) away, a claim I don't doubt!
Turning our backs to the bell, we had a commanding view north into the city. From this point the only way was down, and so down we went by a different, even steeper route, taking extra care on the descent. Reaching the bottom, we were led around the perimeter of the cathedral through at least six separate chapels, the most impressive of which was probably the Renaissance-era Sigismund's Chapel (Kaplica Zygmuntowska). From the outside Sigismund's Chapel is the one with the gold dome (see exterior photo further above). Each of these chapels was a final resting place for a Polish king; and each has an interesting story to tell about the history of Poland.Eventually we reached the descending stairs to the Royal Crypts (Groby Królewskie). There was more royalty here, of course, each individual (or husband/wife pair) having their own unique crypt. It was really quite impressive to see so much energy devoted to such a thing. In front of us there was a large Polish tour group, the leader devoting extensive time to descriptions of certain of the crypt's occupants and barely mentioning others. This was rather the point: knowing the stories of the occupants was the key to this being an interesting experience... We descended another half flight of stairs and found ourselves in another room (along with the tour group). Lo and Behold! Kościuszko! He had quite an ornate crypt and was one of the few covered with flowers. The crowds were thick, though, and we were eventually pushed along. My advice: do these things on weekdays, whenever possible, to avoid crowds.
I wasn't satisfied and I couldn't let it rest. I had to go back. I needed more time in that room. The flow of people seemed to subside briefly, so I returned to the room with Kościuszko and unbelievably I found myself alone. I heard a group beginning to descend the stairs above and knew the moment would soon be lost. Thirty seconds, it's all I had!
In peaceful repose next to Kościuszko's crypt was another Polish hero of mine: Prince Józef Antoni Poniatowski (1763-1813), a name that outside of Poland probably isn’t known unless you happen to be an aficionado of Napoleonic Europe (I would be one of those people). Poniatowski was the nephew of King Stanisław II Augustus and started a career in the military at the age of 17. He served first with the Austrian Empire and then later commanded the southern forces of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth during the Polish-Russian War of 1792. Poniatowski, and Kościuszko who was his subordinate during this time, were both successful during the war, although it ultimately ended in the Polish defeat leading to the Second Partition.
It was only a few years later, in 1794, when Poniatowski joined Kościuszko in the unsuccessful uprising that began in the Kraków's Main Square (see picture below). In spite of a string of victories, Kościuszko's forces were defeated, and Kościuszko himself was severely wounded, captured by the Russians and imprisoned in Peter and Paul fortress in St. Petersburg. The uprising ended shortly thereafter at the Battle of Praga (a neighborhood of Warsaw), in which more than 20,000 Varsovian residents were massacred by Russian troops. Poniatowski was wounded, his estate confiscated and he was banished from Poland. The result for Poland was the third and final partition, in which Poland ceased to exist as a sovereign state.
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| Kraków Main Square. |
Fast forward a dozen years and witness the meteoric rise of Napoleon Bonaparte. After Napoleon's stunning victory over the Prussians at Jena-Auerstedt in 1806, leading to the latter's subjugation, Napoleon created the Duchy of Warsaw in 1807. Kościuszko and Poniatowski each responded differently to Napoleon’s political creation. Kościuszko was skeptical, even mistrustful of Napoleon’s sincerity that Napoleon wanted a truly independent, Polish state. Kościuszko saw the move as political scheming to support Napoleon’s plans for domination of Russia. Kościuszko wrote to Napoleon, asking for assurances and demanding guarantees, a letter to which Napoleon never responded. In the end, Kościuszko neither moved back to the Duchy of Warsaw nor did he join Napoleon's army.
Poniatowski was a bit more optimistic about Napoleon, hoping that by working with and fighting for France and succeeding, that the dream of an independent Poland would become a reality. Poniatowski's decision to be loyal to Napoleon allowed him to quickly rise in esteem, becoming the Minister of War and Head of the army of the Duchy.
 |
| Józef Poniatowski. |
Of course, we know that these small, victorious highlights did nothing to change the ill-fated invasion. Once the failure of the Russian campaign was evident and Napoleon ordered the retreat from Moscow (in bleak, Russian winter), it was Poniatowski and the Poles that most often formed the rearguard, holding off constant Cossack attacks, nipping at the heels of the survivors. Poniatowski was eventually wounded and was sent back to Warsaw ahead of his remaining soldiers, fewer than 4000 of whom returned from Russia. While recovering from his wounds, Poniatowski tried to rebuild the Polish army, decimated by the Russian Campaign. By the summer of 1813 he was campaigning with Napoleon again, commanding the VIII Corps, comprised of the rebuilt Polish army. On 16 October 1813, on the first day of the Battle of Leipzig, Napoleon promoted Poniatowski to a Marshal of the Empire (Maréchal d'Empire), the most prestigious military title one could hold at the time. The Battle of Leipzig, however, was a disaster for Napoleon and Poniatowski was once again entrusted to protect Napoleon's forces in retreat. After being wounded several times Poniatowski drowned crossing the White Elster river on 19 October 1813.
Kościuszko lived on after Poniatowski's death, ultimately unsuccessful in freeing Poland from foreign domination. He died in Switzerland on 15 October 1817, after complications from falling off his horse. He was 71 years old.
My birthday is on October 16th and birthdays are always a time for reflection and contemplation on what has passed before and what the future holds. I ask myself where I've come from and where I'm going. I bear witness to yet another season of change. As part of that process, I recognize that the week is replete with other anniversaries of various sorts. In the case of this blog, if you've read this far, two relevant events cast a long shadow over our trip to Kraków: the deaths of Kościuszko and Poniatowski. Fortunate indeed was I to be at their crypts during this week in October, my birthday and their death days.
We cleared the crypts and found ourselves just outside the castle courtyard. We headed west towards the ramparts overlooking the Vistula and above what is called the Dragon's Den (Smocza Jama), a huge limestone cave in which the legendary Wawel dragon lived. Alas, with the rough-hewn city cobbles and the many flights of stairs my ankles and knees, weak from old injuries, wouldn't allow me to explore this aspect of Kraków history. Reluctantly we were forced to leave, exiting the castle by the Bernadine Gate (Brama Bernardyńska).
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| At the ramparts. Vistula view. |
Kraków, unlike many Polish cities, escaped relatively unscathed during the War. In part this is due to the fact that it was the seat of the German Occupation, called the General Government (Generalne Gubernatorstwo). There are two theories about why, when in 1945, as the Red Army approached, the city escaped undamaged. One theory is that a lighting strike by the skilled Soviet commander, Marshal Konev, enabled the Red Army to seize the city before the Nazis could destroy it. This was the prevailing explanation until rather recently, and it seems as though it was a story designed to advance an agenda. A more likely reason is that the German military, having ample time to prepare an organized retreat and wishing to avoid encirclement, did so by blowing key bridges and a dam, to cover their withdrawal. There was, in reality, no practical reason to stay and fight, and certainly no reason to waste resources (or time) to destroy the city, and so they didn’t. Regardless of the “why”, historic Kraków remains the beautiful city that it was in pre-war years. Remember, too, that although the cities' buildings were largely undamaged, the population was nonetheless affected. For example, forget not that approximately 65,000 Jews were forcibly removed from Kazimierz, put into a ghetto on the other side of the Vistula in Podgórze and then, eventually, sent to Auschwitz or other extermination camps.
As dawn came on our third day, we packed and went downstairs for another wonderful breakfast. We left the hotel sometime thereafter, exploring the other side of Old Town that we had neglected the day before including, most of all, the Kraków Barbican (Barbakan Krakowski), a medieval fortified structure that sits in front of the main city gate. All too soon, however, it was time to go to the train station. We had not enough time in Kraków for the many other wonderful things there are to see: Kazimierz, the Schindler factory, the monastery, the salt caves, the science center, and so much more, but unfortunately that is the nature of a weekend trip.
When we got on the train, the pale October sun was already low in the sky, shrouded in clouds and fog. It was cool and damp, a portent of the coming of winter. November was, after all, but a week away. As an aside for the linguistically curious, the Polish word for November is listopad, which means “falling leaves”. How appropriate to have meaningful names for months, rather than relying on silly and archaic Roman derivations with no connection whatsoever to our reality! Consider, for example, our month November, which is little more than for the Latin word novem, meaning nine. November is not, of course, our ninth month, although centuries ago, in one part of the world when calendars were inaccurate and our understanding of cycles less developed, it was. Likewise, our word December is from the Latin word decem, 'ten', you might recognize as related to the words decimal, decade, decimate and other words related to ten, although December is not our tenth month. What confusion we heap on inquiring minds with such words!
As we sped northwards, the Kraków uplands gradually gave way to the Masovian plain and the steely skies of the south gave way to late afternoon sunshine. The large tracts of birch trees were burdened with yellow leaves and the oaks already stood nearly naked, exposing the large clumps of mistletoe usually obscured during the summer months. Another adventure was coming to an end, as was the day, but it would be a long time before I’d ever forget spending part of my birthday week in Kraków with Kościuszko and Poniatowski, reflecting on their deeds, their love of Poland, and their hopes for an always free and independent country.
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