Notes of my Captivity in Russia/Chapter 1
NOTES
ON
MY CAPTIVITY IN RUSSIA,
IN THE YEARS 1794, 1795, AND 1796.
CHAPTER I.
THE BATTLE OF MACIEIOWICE.
The twenty six months of my imprisonment in Russia, and the various evils I suffered, have left a deep impression on my mind. I am here to trace the recollection of them. A history of the Polish revolution of 1794, a revolution as just and sacred in its causes and principles, as it was fatal in its consequences to the country and the individuals who took part in it, would offer interesting narratives and useful lessons; but deprived, as I am, of every kind of necessary materials, I find that task above my power; I cannot, besides, trust to my memory, and still less to my abilities; I will, therefore, confine myself here to the relation of the principal incidents of my imprisonment, from the time which preceded the fatal day of the 10th October, 1794,[1] until the epoch when the death of a dissolute Empress, the usurper of my country, broke my fetters.
The intrepidity with which our troops defended the fortifications of Warsaw, during the two months of the siege, the rainy season, and the insurrection in Great Poland, had compelled the combined armies of the Russians and Prussians to retreat from the walls of the capital. The King of Prussia marched towards the provinces where the insurrection had just broken out, and the Russians went along the bank of the Vistula, thus procuring us a delay not less desirable than necessary, of which we did not fail to take advantage, by detaching, immediately, from five to six thousand men, under General Dombrowski, in order to make a diversion in Royal Prussia, a province wrested from Poland at the time of her first partition.
This little corps, thanks to the valour of its soldiers, and the enthusiasm and abilities of its general, beat the enemy wherever they met, defeated the Prussian troops under the command of Sekuli, and took by assault the town of Bromberg.
Whilst these successes were spreading most enthusiastic joy in the camp and town, General Kosciuszko, during the night of the 4th of October, received an express from General Poninski, bearing the melancholy intelligence that General Fersen, at the head of the Russian troops which retreated from the camp before Warsaw, had crossed the Vistula, near a village called Macieiowice, twenty miles[2] distant from the capital. Poninski, with three thousand men, had been detached to watch his movements, and defend this passage; but he did nothing, and afterwards alleged as an excuse, that the enemy, availing himself of a thick fog, had crossed the river without being perceived by him. The effecting of this passage, either from Poninski's negligence, or our unlucky stars, threatened us with the most fatal consequences. If Fersen should join the large army of Suwarow, they would make a joint attack, and being thrice our numbers, must infallibly crush us. The Lithuanian army, receiving vague and contradictory orders, was more than a hundred miles from Warsaw, and wandering about without any definite purpose. General Sierakowski’s division, after having fought with courage and glory at Krupczyce against all the forces of Suwarow, was, a few days after, surprized in a disadvantageous position, and lost all its artillery. This small corps, weakened and discouraged, was the nearest available force for opposing Fersen. It approached within six miles of Poninski’s detachment, and at the head of those two small corps, Kosciuszko resolved to give battle to Fersen’s army, about twenty thousand strong, with one hundred and fifty field-pieces.
The head-quarters of the army of Warsaw, which, even during the greatest autumnal rains, and after the retreat of the enemy, had been in the camp, were just removed to Mokotow, a beautiful villa belonging to the Princess-Marshaless Lubomirska. On Sunday night, 5th October, General Kosciuszko gave orders that two foot regiments and some field-pieces should cross the Vistula by the bridge of Praga, and march towards General Sierakowski’s division, telling me at the same time, under the seal of secrecy, that at the dawn of the following day, we should go, on horseback, to join these troops. We spent the evening in Warsaw, at President Zakrzewski's house. Marshal Potocki, Mostowski, Kochanowski, and many of my other best friends were there, none of whom knew anything of our plan for the following day, except the Vice-Chancellor Kollontay, who was entrusted with the secret. The party was gay and animated. I was sitting at Marshal Potocki's[3] side. I had, on my finger, a most beautiful Etruscan beetle, revolving in its bezel, upon one of the sides of which was engraved a soldier leaning upon his buckler; Potocki admired it much. “Keep it,” said I, “until we meet again.” He did not understand the true sense of my words; it was my wish that, in case any misfortune might befal me, this esteemed friend should have at least a token of remembrance from me. We parted at one o'clock in the morning; none of us foresaw the long separation, and the misfortunes that awaited us; as for myself, I little thought that this was the last time I should visit the capital of Poland.
The following day, Monday, 6th October, at six o'clock in the morning, General Kosciuszko, after having caused a rumour to be circulated in the camp that he was going to town, entrusted General Zaionczek with the temporary command of the army, and then mounted his horse. We set out by the bridge of Praga; at the distance of three miles from it, we left our horses, and took others from the peasants. As we rode always at a gallop, we were obliged to change them very often; the marches and counter-marches of our army, and still more, the ravages of the Cossacks, had quite desolated our country; the horses were, therefore, the most wretched possible,–the saddles without girths, and often a single cord put into the mouth of the poor animal, served both for bit and bridle. We did not, however, break our necks, Providence having spared us for something better. At four o’clock, P. M., we met General Sierakowski’s first scout, and at five we alighted at his head-quarters.
General Poninski having left his corps at the distance of six miles, arrived also; there was held a kind of little council of war, and I was much surprised that Poninski did not receive orders to join General Sierakowski’s division immediately. I spent the night in Brigadier Kopec’s covered chariot.
The following day, Tuesday, 7th October, the small army started, without waiting, either for reinforcements from Warsaw or Poninski's corps. The weather was beautiful; our soldiers were laughing and singing. We halted near Zelechow, a small town that had been laid waste by the Russians. Towards the evening we arrived at Korytnica, a village still more desolate. The house of the lord of the manor was appointed for our head-quarters. As the Cossacks had been there a few days before, everything was in a state of confusion; chairs hacked with swords, desks, chests of drawers smashed; books and papers, cut in pieces, strewed the floor. On the other side of the village there were two ranges of hills separated from each other by a deep ravine, covered with brushwood. Our little army took up its position on one of these ranges, having the ravine on its front, and its flanks covered by a wood. It rained heavily on the following morning, and towards twelve o'clock one of our patroles brought us ten hussars of Wolkoff's regiment, and a Major of Engineers, who was sent to reconnoitre the country and draw a plan of it. This wretch, more dead than alive, was Podczaski, a Pole from the palatinate of Braclaw. He told us that, having been compelled by misery, he had, long ago, entered the Russian service, and could never obtain his discharge. We would have been justified in ordering him to be hanged, but we satisfied ourselves with requiring from him information regarding the state and situation of the enemy's camp, which he gave with the utmost sincerity and good faith. He drew us the plan of the Russian camp, and specified the number of men and cannon. We saw distinctly that the enemy were four times stronger than we in men and artillery; we saw it, but did not wish to believe it. In the evening, Captain Molski arrived from General Dombrowski's army, with tidings of the defeat of the Prussians at Bromberg. We immediately published this news in our little army, and exhorted them to equal, by their exploits, the glory of their companions in arms. In the evening the rain somewhat subsided, and the soldiers loaded anew their muskets. General Kaminski, my friend and school-fellow, arrived at head quarters; and while we were walking in the court, and speaking of the morrow, blending in our conversation the recollection of the happy days of our youth, we saw a flock of ravens flying on our right. “Do you remember your Livy?” said he to me, “these ravens are on our right, it is a bad omen.”—“It would be so for the Romans,” said I, “but not for us—you will see, that, although it seems impossible, we shall beat the Muscovites.”—“I think so too,” replied he.
The day of the 9th of October was as beautiful, as those which preceded it were rainy. Very early in the morning, Colonel Krzycki brought two regiments detached from the camp of Warsaw. The soldiers, dying from hunger and fatigue, were in low spirits, but the animating language of the officers, and some glasses of brandy, soon restored gaiety among them. We had heard nothing from Poninski, and at about nine o'clock in the morning, the whole of our little army, amounting nearly to five thousand eight hundred men, with twenty-one field-pieces, started. At four o'clock in the afternoon, we left the large wood, and approached the village of Macieiowice,—General Kosciuszko and myself, with some Light-dragoons, proceeded before the advanced-guard, and were not long in seeing the army of the enemy, which lay encamped along the bank of the Vistula, as far as the eye could reach. Although the great distance did not allow us to perceive objects distinctly, the general view was most imposing; the rays of the setting sun reflected from the arms of the dense columns of infantry; the neighing of horses, and the buzz of this armed multitude, filling the air with a dull and confused noise, had in them something really terrible. We threw our skirmishers into the wood, which extended beyond our flanks, and our advanced posts engaged with the Cossacks in the plain which stretches from the dike, before the house of Macieiowice, to the Vistula. After some of the Cossacks had fallen, a large body of them, formed according to custom in semi-circle, attacked us suddenly, and we were obliged to fall back.
I do not know, indeed, how it happened that we were not taken, being twice surrounded along with the General. At last, Kaminski's Light-dragoons drove them back; at about five o'clock, everything was calm, and the whole of our little army arrived on the spot. On coming out of the wood the village of Macieiowice, situated on a piece of level ground, was in view; at a little distance is an elevated table-land partially cultivated, and covered here and there with brambles; a large brick house, before which is a slope leading to the dike, bordered with willows, commands the view of the Vistula; to the right, a river; the remaining part of the table-land is surrounded with marshes. This position appeared to us to be excellent: our whole army was drawn up on the tableland, a battery of artillery under the protection of the regiment of Fusileers and that of Dzialynski, under the command of General Sierakowski, was placed before the house to enfilade the avenue of the dike. The two segments of the circle behind the house were occupied by our foot; the line from the village side under Colonel Krzycki's command, the horse, consisting of Kopec's brigade, Kaminski's Light-dragoons, two squadrons of Crown Horse Guards, and two squadrons of the Militia of the Palatinate of Brzesc, for want of room, were posted along the bank of the small river, and in the centre. General Kosciuszko ordered some epaulements to be thrown up, but night coming on, prevented them from being raised, so that, at the break of day, they were scarcely commenced. All the army bivouacked. The advanced posts were doubled; the soldiers of the light infantry were intermixed with the horsemen; and at last, at night, we returned to our headquarters, established in the above mentioned brick-house.
Let people say what they may about presentiments! On the eve of the most unlucky day in my life, a day in which I lost my liberty, and witnessed with the greatest pain the events which precipitated the total ruin of my native country, I was calm and even merry. The house where we were had been plundered and laid waste, as were all others which the Russians had passed. It belonged formerly to the family of Macieiowski, and afterwards to that of Zamoyski. In the drawing-room, on the first floor, were to be seen, family portraits, Primates, Grand Chancellors, Grand Generals, Bishops, etc. All those gentlemen had their eyes put out, and their faces cut with swords, and mangled by the Cossacks. We found no books, as it was the part of general-officers to carry these along with them wherever they could find them, but a box with pamphlets, and a collection of Polish newspapers from the beginning of the century, was broken, and its contents were strewed on the floor of a chapel not less ruined than the other apartments of the house. I picked up a bundle of these newspapers, which contained an account of the death of Augustus II., and the journal of the diet of convocation; and the bombastic speeches stuffed with bad Latin, amused me excessively. I read a part of them at supper whilst we were talking of the strength of our position, the difficulty and almost impossibility that the enemy would have to attack us in it. At two o'clock in the morning, we received an express from General Poninski. General Kosciuszko had caused an order to be sent to him to hasten his march and to join us as soon as possible; but, alas! it was already too late.
On Friday 10th October, at break of day, we were informed that all the enemy's army was advancing towards us in battle array.
Our little army stood in readiness to receive them. As the enemy had cannon of larger calibre than ours, they opened the fire upon us at a great distance, and their large balls, passing through the brambles, and smashing the boughs of trees with dreadful noise, were falling among us. We had only three or four twelve-pounders, and as soon as the enemy were within the proper distance, we fired upon them, and with such effect, that we could see their columns wavering and panic spreading through their ranks. Our position was on a dry and elevated piece of ground, while the Russians were advancing over marshes, in which cannon and men were sinking at every step. During nearly three hours, we maintained so decided an advantage over them, that General Sierakowski, who was posted with his troops exactly opposite to the enemy, and before the brick-house, came to tell us that the Russians seemed to be on the point of giving up the attack and retreating. But it proved soon to be quite the contrary: the enemy, four times stronger than we, having a large park of artillery, and reckoning, besides, the life of their soldiers as nothing, and not discouraged by the disadvantages of the terrain, continued to advance. Their fire became more and more rapid and terrible; a shower of balls of every size, grape-shot, and grenades, spreading, as they burst, death on all sides, overwhelmed us. One of those grenades burst just between General Kosciuszko, his aide-de-camp Fischer,[4] and myself, and its splinters passing over our heads, struck, at fifty paces, a gunner, who fell dead on the spot. General Kosciuszko apprehending at the beginning of the battle, that the enemy would lodge themselves in the village which covered our left wing, gave orders to set it on fire. As soon as the red balls were thrown, flames and curling clouds of smoke rose to the skies; these, and the poor peasants of the village, with their wives and children in tears, rushing to the wood in the attempt to save themselves, recall to my mind the most cruel scene I have ever witnessed.
About twelve o'clock the fire became still more terrible: death was flying and striking everywhere; nearly all our artillery horses were killed or maimed; not one of us, however, left his place. The enemy were already within musket shot, when the infantry began a terrible fire on both sides; the ground was covered with dead and wounded, and the air resounded with their groanings. The shower of bullets, with their shrill whistling, was so incessant, that I do not know how any of us escaped. In the meantime, the ammunition was exhausted, and our artillery became entirely silent. The soldiers at last lost patience, tired with being exposed to a continued fire during five hours. The line posted from the village to the table-land, under Colonel Krzycki's command, advanced to attack the enemy, but a volley of grape shot compelled them to retreat, and routed also a battalion of peasants armed with scythes. I informed General Kosciuszko of it, and told him, at the same time, that the enemy's horse was advancing at a gallop through the brush-wood, to fall upon our flank. A squadron of the militia of my province (Brzesc) placed on the table-land, began to waver and to show symptoms of wishing to leave the battle-field; I ran to animate them, and having put myself at their head, was going to check the progress of the Russian cavalry, when, being already near them, I was struck by a bullet in the right arm, above the elbow. The blood was streaming; I remember, however, that the pain was not the first sensation I experienced at this moment, on the contrary, it was the pride that I felt of having shed my blood for my fatherland. But this romantic pleasure of patriotism, which flattered my self-love, was soon dissipated by the sight of the general defeat of our army. The horsemen whom I led to the charge were scattered; confusion prevailed everywhere; all the Russian army was advancing and surrounding us. Our infantry, although weakened, and presenting many gaps in their ranks, stood firm, and received the attack of the phalanx of Russian bayonets; the butchery began, and after an obstinate contest, in which the defenders of my country covered themselves with immortal honour, the enemy became masters of the field, marching over the bodies of our soldiers, who covered in death the very ground they had occupied in battle.
While I was looking everywhere for General Kosciuszko, whom I had seen before on the small plain, at the river side, the loss of blood weakened me, and the sword fell from my hand. An officer, seeing me in this condition, undid his neckcloth and tied it around my arm. I found the General at last, engaged in rallying a small detachment of cavalry; his horse was killed by a cannon shot, and he had just mounted another which was immediately brought him, when, suddenly, a new corps of the enemy's horse showed itself on our front; we attacked and repulsed them, but all the Russian Light-dragoons soon rushed upon us, the Cossacks took us on the flanks, our little army gave way, and every one, for safety, betook himself to flight, as well as he could, the wood promising to cover our retreat.
An officer passing at the head of twenty horsemen, said to me: “Join our small detachment, make haste, we shall not fall into the enemy's hands.” “Everything is lost,” replied I, “no matter what becomes of me.” He went away speedily; I had neither strength nor wish to spur forward my horse. I saw myself immediately surrounded by a band of Cossacks. I had no sword, my pistols were discharged, and I could not raise my arm; they seized my horse by the bridle, and thus I was taken prisoner.[5]
After having led me into the wood, they dispersed in search of new prizes, leaving me alone with their officer. This gentleman asked me first what I had about me, and began by taking my watch and my purse, then, perceiving a ring on the finger of the hand which was wounded and much swollen, he tried to take it off, but finding this impossible by gentle means, he put my finger into his mouth, and would have infallibly bit it off, if, seized with indignation, I had not repulsed him, taken off the ring with great difficulty and pain, and thrown it in his face. My officer then from being a thief became my valet, and began to undress me; he took off my cravat, my green coat, my waistcoat, &c., and dressed me in uniform which he stripped from the body of a dead soldier; he then took my horse, and put me on his own. I was dying of pain and fatigue, whilst he was amusing himself in conducting me through the numerous Russian battalions, puffed up with the pride which the victory inspired, and filling the air with their insolent clamours. Several officers called out to my conductor, “Why do you not kill him? kill him! kill him!” and he might, perhaps, have rendered me this service, at which I should not have been sorry at this time, nor afterwards, if Colonel Miller had not arrived. He spoke to me with politeness and humanity, and took upon himself to conduct me to head-quarters.
We passed again through the battle-field; the ground was covered with corpses already stripped, and left naked. There was something great in this melancholy sight, in spite of its horrors. All those soldiers, most of whom were six feet high, stretched upon the ground, their breasts pierced with bayonets, their sinewy limbs covered with blood already coagulated, the look of threatening or despair which was still on their features, livid and frozen by death, and above all, the idea that all those gallant men died for their country, covering it with their bodies, filled my mind with an impression painful and deep, which can never be effaced from my memory.
We found Fersen, the Commander in Chief, walking in the court of the brick-house; instead of uniform, he was attired in a coat of red plush, edged with gold lace; he had no sword, so far as I can remember; in short, he could not, on the day of battle, have been dressed in a more citizen-like manner. I was introduced to him, and then ushered into the same house, which, six hours before, had served for our head-quarters. The room was filled with Russian officers, and several of our generals, Kaminski, Sierakowski, Kniaziewicz, and Brigadier Kopec were also there. We could not restrain our tears when we saw ourselves brought together by this common misfortune. The report of General Kosciuszko's death rendered the grief of all still deeper, especially mine. The Russian generals, Chruszczew, Tormansow, Denisow, Engelhard, who knew all my relations, came to comfort me, making protestations of interest, and offers of their services to me. They vied with one another in repeating, “We are not barbarians.” The eagerness with which they endeavoured to persuade me that they were not barbarians, shewed how much their own consciences reproached them with being so; as far, however, as respects their conduct towards me, they were very courteous. We are not malicious when we are happy, and they were all happy. They left the battle field victorious, after a cruel and obstinate struggle, having conquered an adversary, with whose fall they believed the war was finished for ever; in short, the fatigues of the campaign, the dangers of combats, disappeared before them, and a brilliant future, rewards of all kinds, ribbands, roubles, diamonds, gifts of estates, in fine, everything that can flatter the vanity and cupidity of man, was present in their imagination. How could they hate us who were the instruments of all this happiness? I therefore repeat, that in the first moments of their joy, they were eager to pay us every possible attention. I was covered with blood, and my wound had not been yet dressed; Colonels Moronzow[6] and Chlebow sent for their surgeons, who were then, as one might expect, very busy. They probed my wound, the bullet had passed through, and torn all the nerves near the artery, at the place where blood is usually let, without, however, injuring, or even touching the bone. I suffered little whilst they were probing and dressing it, and did not expect the torments I was soon after destined to endure. In the meantime, the headquarters were becoming more and more crowded. Among the new arrivals was General Chruszczew's wife, with her two daughters and niece. These ladies came from the place where the fight had been the most bloody; and nothing could better prove how much they were accustomed to war, than seeing them jumping lightly over the naked bodies of grenadiers, which obstructed their passage at every step.
Between four and five o'clock in the evening, we saw a detachment of soldiers approaching head-quarters, and carrying upon a hand-barrow, hastily constructed, a man half dead. This was General Kosciuszko. His head and body covered with blood, contrasted in a dreadful manner with the livid paleness of his face. He had on his head a large wound from a sword, and three on his back, above the loins, from the thrusts of a pike. He could scarcely breathe. This was very painful to me; the silence, or rather sullen stupor, was, at last, interrupted by the sobs and cries of a grief as violent as sincere. I embraced the General, who had not yet recovered his senses, and from this moment until we were thrown into solitary prisons, I remained with him. A surgeon dressed his wounds, but did not venture to say anything about his state. The General still shewed no sign of recovery from his swoon. They removed him into a large room on the first floor, where I remained by his bedside weeping, a grenadier being posted at each door within the hall. Towards evening, Fersen wanting this apartment for his dinner and council, the invalid was once more removed into a room above the cellar. The night which succeeded that unfortunate day was the most painful in my life. While I lay on a heap of straw, my mind was suffering a thousand times more than my body. Immediately after the host of officers, who filled all the house, had retired to bed, the confused voices, and immoderate laughter of this multitude, gave place to the groanings and imprecations of the dying and wounded. It must be understood that towards the end of the battle, or rather the slaughter, one hundred soldiers of Dzialynski's regiment, and of the regiment of the Fusileers, had retreated into the house which had been the head-quarters of our army. These gallant men defended themselves to the last; but when their ammunition was spent, the Russians entered the house, and then the slaughter began. They killed each other, and stabbed with bayonets, pêle-mêle, in every room, and especially in the cellar, where our soldiers had taken the last refuge. The carnage continued until there remained only the dead and the dying, who were still there when we were brought into the room, which was situated immediately above the cellar. Some of them dying from the acute pain of their wounds, uttered heart-rending groans and screams; others burning with an excessive thirst, demanded drink; here some begged to be killed, whilst the greatest part exasperated, gave vent to imprecations, for having been, according to their opinion, imprudently sacrificed to an enemy so superior in numbers. It was in the midst of those exclamations of pain, despair and death, having before me an expiring friend, suffering from my own wound, shivering from cold, which began to be very severe, broken-hearted, with the mind overpowered by a thousand reflections on that unfortunate day, and its consequences so fatal to my unhappy country,—it was in the midst of all these torments, I repeat, that I spent the most miserable night that it could fall to the lot of mortal to endure. The dawn dissipated, at last, the horrible darkness. General Kosciuszko awoke like a man who had been in a profound lethargy, and seeing me wounded at his side, asked me what was the matter, and where we were. “Alas!” said I, “We are prisoners of the Russians. I am with you and will never leave you.” “How happy am I to have such a friend in misfortune!” answered he, with tears in his eyes. I soon convinced myself that he was not so dangerously wounded as I had believed. The arrival of Russian officers did not allow us to converse further with each other; and if the joy of victory, the trouble, and the arrangements consequent upon battle, had not permitted our enemies to occupy themselves much with us on the preceding day, they began very early this morning to think seriously of it. They appointed officers and soldiers, who were to guard, to follow, and never to lose sight of us. To General Kosciuszko, was assigned Major Iwan Petrowicz Titow; to me, Captain Zmiewski; to Fischer, the general's aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Karpen; and to these three officers were added Lieutenant Mitrowski, and three old grenadiers. These guardian angels had instructions to watch our words and actions, to prevent us from having any communication with each other, and to make a report every day of what they had seen, heard, or observed during that day. At ten o’clock we had the first visit of General Fersen, who said to Kosciuszko, “I pity you, but such is the lot of our profession of arms.” As he spoke only Russian and German, I acted as interpreter during the conversation, which did not last long. I perceived from Fersen's tone in addressing me, that I was considered by him as a most violent enemy, not only of the Russians, but of the Empress personally, and in this opinion I was afterwards confirmed by information from another quarter. At noon they celebrated the victory of the preceding day by triple discharges of musketry and artillery. It may be easily imagined how these joyful salutes filled my soul with despair.
After all these demonstrations of triumph there was a dinner for at least one hundred persons. This repast, as usual, did not cost the General who gave it one single penny; as provisions, wines, and everything else were plundered from the neighbouring country-houses. Who knows how many insolent toasts were there proposed We were allowed on this day to write to Warsaw for our servants and some garments; I used my left hand to write a few lines to General Zaionczek. The following day was still devoted to rest after the battle, or, perhaps, after the dinner of yesterday. On Monday 13th October, the army started with its prisoners. They placed General Kosciuszko with a surgeon in a small carriage, and we four were put with Major Titow into a larger one, detachments of horse before and behind, escorting us. We saw, with great pain, in the court of the building a great number of our prisoners, and were much grieved to hear their grumblings. “Where are those lands you promised us?” said they, “is it to Siberia that we are going to seek them?”[7] After many delays, we started at last. What a long file of carriages! Nothing could be more like the army of Darius. I may say without exaggeration, that the luggage of the officers of the general-staff, the number of waggons carrying the large booty from the palaces and seats of the nobility, which they plundered from top to bottom, besides the horses taken from the country, occupied nearly as much space as the army. All general-officers, brigadiers, and even colonels, were lolling in beautiful carriages, with their wives or mistresses, followed by chamber-maids, cooks, footmen, &c. General Fersen, an old man of more than sixty, thin, and broken down, travelled in a beautiful lilac and silver berlin, drawn by six dapple grey horses; at his side was sitting a charming girl of sixteen, beautiful as an angel, and mischievous and playful as a fairy. But when we advanced towards the centre of the army, we had quite a different sight: two thousand of our prisoners marched with sorrowful countenances; after them went twenty pieces of cannon, which had been taken from us, and a chariot, upon which they had put some colours, and richly embroidered standards of our national cavalry. At the sight of these trophies of our unfortunate defeat, we could not restrain our tears.
After having marched six miles, we arrived in the evening at Korytnica, where the army stopped during the whole of the following day. At ten o'clock, a servant of the General arrived with his luggage, and Francis, my footman, with a portmanteau. The Supreme National Council had sent with them one of the General's aides-de-camp, with a letter to him, written in terms full of sensibility and nobleness; they offered to the Russian General, commanding in chief, in exchange for General Kosciuszko, all the Russian generals, officers, and soldiers, who were prisoners of the Poles, and whose number exceeded three thousand men. I translated to the Russian generals the proposition of the Polish government, but the offer was not accepted. With the letter to General Kosciuszko were sent four thousand ducats in gold, a box and three watches; he kept the half of the money, and gave the other half to the officers and soldiers, his fellow-prisoners. As soon as our luggage arrived, they appointed a committee of officers to examine it. They opened our trunks and portmanteaus, and emptied their contents on the floor, where every article was unfolded, and turned over and over again, to see if there were not some instruments, poison, or concealed letters. The excessive stupidity of my poor Francis procured them soon an ample provision of what they were looking for. This poor fellow, in packing up my trunk, instead of filling it with linen, clothes, and other necessary articles, had put into it all the pamphlets and works I had lately published. It may well be imagined that these productions spared but little the Empress and the Russians. There were among them an Elegy on the Second Partition of Poland, a Metrical Epistle to the Traitors, another of a supposed Russian officer, a Plan of the Constitution of Targowica, and a Fragment of Szczesny's[8] Bible. These two last productions were full of outrageous irony, and, I may add, they did not want salt. At the sight of such a treasure, the joy of all the officers of this new kind of custom-house was beyond all description. They picked them up to the last leaf, and ran in all haste to show them to their Commander-in-Chief. This stupidity of my servant was, in a great measure, the cause of all the unusual severities which I afterwards endured.
- ↑ The day of the battle of Macieiowice, in which Kosciuszko was defeated by Fersen.
- ↑ The author, giving the distances of the places, uses Polish miles, fifteen of which are reckoned to a geographical degree. A Polish mile, therefore, is equal to four and one-fifth English miles.
- ↑ Ignatius Potocki, Court-Marshal, afterwards Grand-Marshal of Lithuania, was one of the principal authors of the Constitution of the 3d May, 1791, which had for its object the political regeneration of Poland. Ignatius Potocki, a patriot as distinguished by the refinement of his mind as by the integrity of his character, commanded uniformly the respect of every one, even that of his enemies. He died in 1809, when he was on the point of going to plead the cause of his country before Napoleon at Schoenbrunn, at the time when the armies of the Duchy of Warsaw were gaining brilliant victories over the Austrians. His epitaph, written by Mons. Serra, then French ambassador at Warsaw, runs thus:–
“Hic jacet ob patriam ærumnas et vincula passus,
“Eripiturque eodem, quo inchoat illa, die.” - ↑ This officer distinguished himself in the Polish Legions in France, where he afterwards served, became a General of Division, and Chief of the General Staff of the army of the Duchy of Warsaw, and was killed in the campaign of Russia at Tarutino.
- ↑ We think that the following description of the battle of Macieiowice, translated from the work: Histoire de la révolution de Pologne, en 1794, par un témoin oculaire (le Général Zaionczek), will possess some interest for our readers:
“Kosciuszko left Warsaw on the 29th of September, and gave battle to the enemy at Macieiowice, the 10th of October, or rather was forced to give it, for not having found Poninski's corps, joined with that of Sierakowski, and Zielinski having sent him only some squadrons of inferior cavalry, the commander-in-chief would have been willing to avoid the encounter, but Fersen preferred fighting to leaving in his rear an army which would have harassed him on his march to Brzesc. This battle was very sanguinary; the Poles had a momentary success; some Russian battalions, beaten by the insurgents, had given way, and left their cannon; but the Russian division under the command of Denisow, having penetrated to the left flank of the Poles, broke them, and threw disorder into their ranks. The place through which the enemy executed their passage, was to be occupied by Poninski's division, who did not come in time. Kosciuszko did his utmost to re-establish order among his troops, but in vain.—The battle was lost.—Great part of the Polish army was killed, the rest were taken prisoners. Kosciuszko endeavoured to break through the Russian troops, at the head of the horse, but being surrounded, and three times wounded, he fell senseless under the last blow he received. Having been recognized by the enemy, he was brought from the battle-field to the Russian head-quarters. Generals Sierakowski, Kniaziewicz, and Kaminski were also taken prisoners. Niemcewicz, Kosciuszko's friend, received a dangerous wound in this fight. This gallant and clever young man was a poet like Aeschyles, but the Greek had the happiness to sing the victory of his country, to which he contributed at the battle of Marathon, whilst the Pole, taken prisoner at that of Maciejowice, deplores, in prison, the misfortunes of his fatherland. Poninski being informed by the deserters of what had just happened to Kosciuszko, fell back upon Warsaw.” - ↑ The same Moronzow was dangerously wounded and taken prisoner at the battle of Raclawice; he was kept at Cracow, and, when passing through that city, I went to pay him a visit.
- ↑ General Kosciuszko, in his proclamation to the army, had promised to every soldier a house and a certain number of acres of land.—Note of the Author.
- ↑ Szczesny means in Polish Félix. The pamphlet the author speaks of, was written against Felix Potocki, one of the leading characters in the confederation of Targowica, which had paralysed the national defence.