The Capital of Poland’s Glory
When you board the train of the Northern Railway in Vienna, you seem to be leaving behind you Europe, at least the Europe that is best known. You begin to…
From: 600 C.E. To: 1913 C.E.
Location: Krakow, Poland
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
From Poland of To-Day and Yesterday by Nevin O. Winter, 1913.
The Capital of Poland’s Glory
When you board the train of the Northern Railway in Vienna, you seem to be leaving behind you Europe, at least the Europe that is best known. You begin to get a taste of the change that is coming before you enter your compartment. There will be Czechs, Germans, Ruthenians, and Poles—and it is to the old home of the latter that we are bound.
It is also the main line of railway leading from Vienna to Odessa, Kiev, Moscow, and at the latter city connection is made with the Trans-Siberian Railway, so that there are likely to be Russians and Western Europeans bound for some point in Russia or the Orient. Altogether the passenger list will show representatives of a great many nationalities.
There is little to see in the six or seven hours' journey to Cracow, except one little mud hut after another, a few unimportant towns, many half-naked children, wandering pigs and geese. The last named fowl will be seen everywhere, and it is a common sight to see women driving their awkward charges to the water. They are herded together like the village cows, and are gathered together in the morning by the herder. In the evening the flock diminishes as the various cottages are passed, for each goose seems to know its own domicile and drops out voluntarily. Some ridges of the Little Carpathians are visible in the distance, on which the snow may be seen long after it has disappeared on the level ground. The poverty and squalor seems to become even more apparent as Poland is approached.
At last Cracow is reached. Porters by the dozen will be awaiting the incoming train ready to take personal charge of both passengers and baggage. They mean well and are reliable, even if they are a little impetuous at times. Cracow is in the northern part of Austria, not far from the Russian border, and was at one time one of the most important towns in Europe. When Poland was at the height of her power, and before the removal of the seat of the government to Warsaw, in 1610, Cracow was the capital of a country which was at that time one of the largest kingdoms of Europe, being half as large again as the France of to-day.
Cracow was also the last capital of Poland as an entity. After the division of most of the country among Russia, Germany and Austria, this city fell to Austria. But Napoleon stepped in and took it; a congress held in Vienna afterwards declared Cracow and a small district surrounding “forever a free, independent and neutral city under the protection of Russia, Austria, and Prussia.” This was in 1815. It was left as a republic until 1846, when Austria assumed the sovereignty after some disturbances had arisen among the peasants of Galicia. Thus it was the last rallying point of Polish national existence, and to-day it is the most characteristically Polish of any city. Warsaw is much larger and more cosmopolitan, and even Posen is of greater commercial importance. But the real heart of the national Polish spirit is in Krakau, as they write it, and the affection of the Poles turns toward this city as a precious memento of their vanished glory.
Cracow is an old city, no one knows just how old, since its origin is lost in tradition. Its foundation is attributed to a mountain chief named Krakus, who built a fortress on the Wawel hill in the sixth century, after killing a dragon that dwelt there. Since that time Cracow has witnessed many stormy scenes, and on at least four different occasions it was in the hands of foreign invaders.
Authentic history carries one back into quite a remote period, for the University of Cracow has already celebrated the five hundredth anniversary of its birth. This institution, which was first established by Casimir the Great in 1364, is a living monument to the statesmanship and liberality of the early Polish kings. Since the year 1400 it has never ceased the work of granting degrees. Many of the foremost men of Poland owe their education to this university.
Having been thrown in touch with many Poles in the United States, and knowing their intense loyalty to everything Polish, it was with great interest that I reached this city in which, for several centuries, had been concentrated all the hopes and aspirations of that race. All patriotic Americans can take a little interest as well, for Kosciuszko now lies at rest in the crypt of the cathedral amidst the sarcophagi of the old Polish kings.
The most striking feature in Cracow is the Wawel, (pronounced Vah-vel), which is really a small fortified city in itself, and is situated on a hill which overlooks the rest of the city. It has a cathedral with its numerous chapels, barracks for its soldiers, dwelling-houses for the retainers, and a palace in which the kings themselves resided.
Situated as it is on an imposing elevation, and overlooking the Vistula River, it has a formidable appearance, as it is entirely surrounded by lofty walls with towers at the corners. Cannon have belched forth their death-dealing messages from this enclosure on several occasions. It has been the scene of many interesting historical events. Memories of Casimir the Great, Sigismund the father and Sigismund the son, the brave Stephen Batory, and other sovereigns, linger around these old walls and turrets. The tragedy of a prelate slain by his sovereign, and the comedy of a king fleeing from his sceptre like a malefactor by nighty mingle in one's retrospections.
For a long time the Wawel was used by the Austrians as a military barracks, but the Poles disliked this use of a place so sacred to them. The Austrian government offered to give it up if the city would provide other barracks. This has been done, and to-day the palace is being restored to its ancient splendour. The work is being thoroughly done, and the palace of the Wawel will be maintained as a national museum and memorial by this patriotic people. The court within has responded many times to the jousts of knights. I had the pleasure of going through the palace with a Polish noble and his family, all of whom spoke English fairly well, and it was interesting to notice the feeling almost of reverence with which they looked upon this antique pile.
"Do you see the many churches?'' said one of the young ladies, as we reached a place where we had a magnificent outlook upon this old city. She pointed out the various church spires and towers, uplifted above the low roofs. “There are almost forty of them,'' she continued. This was said with a feeling of almost reverential pride. To the Poles these churches of Cracow are holy places.
The Cracovians are a very religious people. The city is seen at its best on a religious holiday, when the people all turn out for the processions. The Corpus Christi celebration in Cracow is a very impressive occasion. The many great churches and the numerous street shrines over the city testify to their religious fervour. Their worship is full of ecclesiastical pageantry and devotional symbolisms. The churches are a perfect riot of decorations. Gold, silver, jewels, rare marbles, costly carved woods, sculptures, beaten work in metals,—all of these will be found in great profusion within them.
One of the most splendid of Cracow's religious edifices is St. Mary's, or the Panna Marya, on the market square. It is a Gothic basilica with Byzantine touches, and was founded in 1223, but rebuilt three centuries later. The principal altar is a gorgeous affair, and the church contains many old tombs as well as costly vestments. The walls are painted with several hundred golden angels on a blue background. The entrance to the churches is usually besieged by a multitude of mendicants, who piteously solicit alms of those who enter. Another curious sight is the great number of death notices posted on the fence or wall in front of the churches. Each death is announced in poster form in great black letters, and with a large black cross on it as well.
The cathedral in the Wawel has heretofore been the only spot which has not been robbed of at least a part of its former glory, and it became a place of pilgrimage to every loyal Pole. It is the richest and most magnificent of all in its decorations. The Polish kings were always crowned here after the removal of the capital to this city, the only exception being the last one, the unfortunate Stanislaus. Its splendour dates from Casimir III, who greatly embellished it in the fourteenth century.
It has been called the Westminster Abbey of the Poles, for her greatest dead lie buried here, down underneath the floor of the sanctuary. It contains many chapels, all gaudily ornamented. The Poles have always been lavish in their gifts to religion, hence one will find gold, silver, precious stones, beautifully carved woods and the rarest of marbles in abundance in this cathedral. In the centre is a tabernacle, which covers a silver shrine in which are relics of St. Stanislaus, the patron saint of Poland. It was he whom Boleslaw II, rebuked for his cruelties, beheaded with his own hand at the altar. The great altar is backed by four massive columns, each of which is heavily covered with gold. Through splendid stained glass windows the sunlight filters a perfect kaleidoscope of colour upon the many altars.
The finest chapel is probably that of Sigismund Augustus. It is built of red Italian marble, almost as delicately carved as wood. The tomb itself is gilded with pure gold, and it is said to have been painted black during foreign invasions in order to check the cupidity of irreverent soldiers. Another splendid tomb is that of Casimir the Great, who lies under a canopy. He is represented as a man of sturdy build and with wide forehead. It was he who threw into the Vistula an ecclesiastic sent to notify him of his excommunication for licentiousness. The crowned head here lies upon a cushion, with a lion resting at his feet, and in his hands is held a sceptre. If the effigies on the tombs are true likenesses, as they are claimed to be, the Wawel is a good place to study the characteristics of the various sovereigns. History only deepens the impressions conveyed by these sculptured representations.
For a small fee the sacristan conducts the visitor down through a trap-door to the crypt, where he can wander among the leaden coffins which hold men who have fought in almost every European war, and some who even crossed the seas in their pursuit of the war-dogs. In America, Asia and Africa, these men drenched the soil with their blood. Among them is John Sobieski, to whose genius was due the defeat of the Turks at Vienna, which prevented those Asiatic invaders, and followers of Mohammed, from spreading over the rest of Europe as they at one time threatened to do. His tomb of red marble really occupies the place of honour, and is sculptured with figures of kneeling Turks. With the exception of the early kings buried at Posen, and the last king, Stanislaus Poniatowski, who is buried in St. Petersburg, nearly all the kings are buried here.
The laws of Poland ordained that the body of a deceased king should be carried to Warsaw, where it should remain until the election of a new sovereign. This was done to avoid even the appearance of an interregnum, for as long as the body of the king remained unburied Poland was not without a sovereign. After a new king had been elected, it was then removed in state to Cracow, and the actual burial ceremonies were held just prior to the coronation of the successor.
As a part of the ceremony each king was obliged to denounce the murder of Bishop Stanislaus as “atrocious," state that he “detested” it, and asked pardon for it by imploring the protection of the holy martyr upon himself and his kingdom.
All that there is left of a nation which conquered by the sword, and perished by the sword, are a few battle-flags which have been torn by shot and shell, and such trophies as Turkish swords and German standards which still find a place in this abode of the dead in the Wawel. But no clank of sabres greets one here to-day. One is inclined to become retrospective amid such scenes, and the words of a Polish poet seem so true:
"Oh! ye exiles who so long wander over the earth, Where will you find a resting-place for your weary feet? The wild dove has its nest, and the worm a clod of earth. Each man has a country, The Pole has but a grave."
Winter, Nevin Otto. Poland of To-Day and Yesterday. L. C. Page and Company, 1913.
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