Royal Castle and Russian army tents in the Castle Square, 1861. Photo: Karol Beyer. Source: National Museum in Warsaw.
The former seat of Polish kings, now officially called the 'former Royal Castle'. Nowadays, it is the residence of the Governor-Generals sent from Russia, whose decisions affect the Polish residents of the city. A particularly painful episode in the partition-era history of the Castle took place after the insurrection of 1830, when the remnants of the Castle’s past and its most valuable works of art – sculptures, paintings and antique furniture – were taken away to Moscow and St. Petersburg. Many lavish interiors have been redecorated in the Byzantine style. The front rooms have been turned into barracks to house the guards plus a squad of Kuban Cossacks. In fact, only the walls of the old Castle remain.
Nevertheless, the symbolic significance of the Royal Castle was still tremendous. Throughout the nineteenth century it was one of the most frequently depicted landmarks, appearing on photographs, postcards, signboards, trademarks, etc. For the Poles, the Castle became the unofficial Polish coat of arms, taking the place of the eagle that was banned by the authorities. The Square in front of the Castle was an arena in the struggle for symbolic domination. Here, Tsar Nicholas had himself pompously crowned King of Poland (a special amphitheatre being built for that occasion). Patriotic demonstrations took place here in the early 1860s, which – though peaceful – were violently suppressed. After these events, Russian troops set up tents here (shown in the picture).
Alexander Bridge, seen from the Praga side of the river. Photo: Polona
Both names were in use. The most important bridge over the Vistula River was officially named after Tsar Alexander, but the Poles still called it after its designer, Stanisław Kierbedź. A parade by the Russian Army during the opening of the bridge, with Governor-General Berg in attendance, led the Varsovians to boycott the event. In accordance with this naming tradition, a new bridge over the Vistula, construction of which began in 1900, was officially named by the authorities ‘The Bridge of Our Gracious Sovereign, Tsar Nicholas II’ (nowadays it is known as the Poniatowski Bridge).
Staszic Palace in Krakowskie Przedmieście, postcard, Source: Polona.pl
The Russians not only constructed new buildings in the capital, but also refashioned existing ones in the spirit of Russian architecture – often devastating true gems of local architecture. Such was the fate of the classicistic Staszic Palace, designed by Antonio Corazzi for the Royal Society of Friends of Learning and built in the 1820s. In 1892-1895, the Palace was completely rebuilt in the Byzantine-Russian style. The façade was covered with majolica tiles, which were also used to make a number of carefully carved elements. A gilded dome was placed on top of the building, and four small towers with pointed domes were built on the corners of the roof. In the end, a bell tower with ten bells was added. Inside, in the former hall, where meetings of the Society of Friends of Learning had taken place, an Orthodox church was arranged. The building also housed the 1st Russian Middle School in Warsaw. The Poles did not like the new version of the Palace – it reminded them of a large enamelled Russian pot. They used to call it the ‘Byzantine gingerbread behind Copernicus' back’ – referring to the Copernicus Monument standing nearby.
Copernicus monument, 1903-1906. Source: National Museum in Warsaw
For a long time, the Sigismund Column and the Copernicus Monument were the most 'Polish' locales in the city. The latter was a particularly crucial element in the Polish-Russian battle over monuments. In the absence of other, more contemporary symbols of Polish culture, the Copernicus statue made by Danish sculptor Thorvaldsen reminded Varsovians of the former glory of their country, as the ingenious astronomer’s homeland.
BRANDES:
Thorwaldsen's Copernicus, which is so popular in Warsaw that the common people call any statue ‘a Copernicus’, is covered with dirt, but is never cleaned. The pedestal is crumbling away under it, but no one restores it.
Fyodor Berg Street, 1915 (Now Traugutt Street). Source: Polona.pl
Warsaw street names were also subject to Russification: some came to be named after Russian heroes, often ones who had particularly got under the Poles’ skin. Count Fyodor Berg was the last governor of the puppet Kingdom of Poland. He earned his reputation by, among other things, bloodily suppressing the January Uprising. In turn, the name of nearby Yerevan Street was connected with Ivan Paskevich, the Count of Yerevan, who earned that title after capturing the Armenian city of Yerevan during the Persian wars.
Loyalist Monument in Saxon Square, 1890-1899. Photo by Maurycy Pusch. Source: Polona
The monument – a giant obelisk of cast iron, at the base of which there were eight lions and four two-headed Russian gilded eagles – was unveiled on Saxon Square on 29 November 1841, that is, on the anniversary of the outbreak of the November Uprising. Tsar Nicholas I himself made the initial sketches of the monument, and composed the inscription that was carved on it in Polish.
However, the obelisk was unpopular among the residents of the capital city, who called it a 'monument to disgrace' or 'monument to the traitors'. It commemorated seven Polish generals who had been killed by the insurgents on the night of the uprising's outbreak, for their refusal to take the lead of the insurrection.
In 1899, in connection with the construction of the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, the monument was moved to the quieter Zielony Square, where it was more leisurely vandalized by the Varsovians.
On the sumptuous granite pedestal rest four metal lions. About the base of the obelisk are horrible-looking heraldic eagles with two heads of supernatural size. The inscription in Russian and Polish over the names reads thus: 'The Poles who fell for fidelity to their sovereign'. This obelisk very possibly misses its mark in Warsaw!
Both the Loyalist Monument and the Paskevich Monument were symbols of Russian domination and a reminder of the city's past – as well as manifestations of the Russian version of history.
Mickiewicz Monument in Krakowskie Przedmieście, postcard. Source: Polona
A monument to the Polish national poet from the period of Romanticism was constructed in Warsaw on the hundredth anniversary of his birth (1898). The Poles managed to erect it in the centre of the city thanks to a temporary political thaw that came after Nicholas II's ascendance to the throne. Before and after that period, however, building monuments to commemorate remarkable Poles was strictly forbidden. The situation was quite paradoxical, as at the time the monument was put up most of the poet's works were banned from print. Earlier, even sponsoring a mass on the anniversary of the poet's death had been prohibited. The authorities officially argued that the poet had no family in Warsaw, though the actual reason for this policy was a fear that such an event might trigger a patriotic manifestation.
The construction of the monument was funded with public contributions, and 85,000 donors participated in the ‘crowdfunding’ drive. The police and the army assisted in the unveiling ceremony. It all took place in silence – no speeches were allowed, the authorities only permitted an orchestra to play the 'Polonaise' from Stanisław Moniuszko's opera 'Halka' at the end of the ceremony.
The Russian authorities reportedly agreed to allow Adam Mickiewicz to be commemorated on condition that the bard’s statue would be lower than the nearby Paskevich monument. The statue itself was cast in accordance with the Russian recommendations, but at the same time it was placed on a higher pedestal, so that if the monuments were to be brought side by side, the Polish poet would actually be looking at the tip of the general's head.
Alexander Nevsky Cathedral in Warsaw, ante 1916. Source: Polona
Throughout the Russian-held partition, the authorities converted Catholic churches into Orthodox ones or built new ones. In Warsaw, more than 20 churches and chapels were built to serve an Orthodox population of just ten thousand. These temples had two functions: they were to make the Russian officials 'feel at home', but also to remind the Poles of Russia’s domination. They were erected all around, on representative streets, on the city's peripheries, next to the main train stations – they were intended to tower over the city, so that it would be impossible to overlook them. Here is how Leon Wasilewski, a socialist activist, commented this policy:
These buildings are erected by the Russian government not for religious purposes, as the handful of Orthodox inhabitants are not able to fill them; their only purpose is to decorate the city in Russian style.
The most conspicuous manifestation of this trend was Alexander Nevsky Cathedral on Saxon Square. It was the most monumental and the most expensive temple erected on the western frontiers of the Russian Empire. Its construction took 20 years and was completed on the great jubilee marking the three hundredth anniversary of the Romanov dynasty’s reign. The city’s skyline was dominated by its gilded domes and a 70-meter belfry, which was soon called ‘the water tower of Orthodoxy’ by the Poles. The Governor-General's office issued a document that said:
By its presence, this Russian cathedral announces to the world and to the restless Poles that the powerful Orthodox empire has irrevocably strengthened its position in the western Vistula borderlands.
Paskevich monument in Krakowskie Przedmieście, ca. 1917. Source: Polona
The ceremonial unveiling of the monument took place on 3 July 1870, in the presence of Tsar Alexander II. For many years it was a symbol of ruthless Russian rule in Poland.
It commemorated the governor of the Kingdom of Poland, whose reign (1832-1856) the Poles called the 'Paskevich Night'. The Kingdom of Poland was then reduced to the role of one of the Russian governorates, extensive censorship was introduced, the Citadel was built and many patriots were exiled to Siberia.
The location chosen for the monument to this hated governor and ‘Prince of Warsaw’ – a title the field marshal received for his merits in the war against Poland (1830-1831) and the pacification of Warsaw – was not accidental. The prestigious location – in Krakowskie Przedmieście, in front of the Governor's Palace – was originally the site of a monument to Prince Józef Poniatowski, a hero in the struggle for independence. Paskevich found it such an eyesore that he made sure it was removed and taken far away – to his own private residence in Gomel.
The monument was repeatedly doused with paint by Varsovians and 'decorated' with insulting inscriptions, so that in the end the authorities were forced to post a policeman to watch over Paskevich day and night. Brandes:
Resursa Obywatelska, 1890-1899. Photo by Mayrycy Pusch. Source: Polona
Brandes’ arrival in Warsaw also coincides with carnival season. The city is gloomy, but at the same time full of life. Brandes attends one ball after another, including one at the Resursa Obywatelska Palace. Even this form of entertainment is not free of political tension. Russian officials are boycotted at balls organised by the Poles; inviting them to a reception is considered a faux pas among patriotic circles. Such social events are not subject to Russification, and they give the Polish people a good way to pass the time in a country whose fate they cannot influence. Antoni Zaleski, a writer working in that period, noted:
The inability to participate in the jobs and careers of public administration on higher and lower levels, in associations of more general scope, in academic and university appointments, the oppression and arbitrariness in every domain (...), in a word, all our troubles and everyday worries simply had to have an impact on social life, on the topics of conversations, on the minds and attitudes of young people of both sexes taking part. Carnivals and balls have become a way of killing time, rather than entertainment.
Saint Florian's Church. Source: Polona.pl
The politicisation of the religious sphere and the state-affiliated status of the Orthodox Church resulted in the construction of numerous Catholic churches – in opposition to the 'state-run' Orthodox ones. St. Florian's Church is an example of this Polish-Russian rivalry. It is located on the right bank of the Vistula, near the Russian church of St. Magdalene. It was built in a variant of the Gothic style, characteristic of the Vistula-Baltic area. At that time, the concept of national styles – trends in architecture specific to every country – was being developed throughout Europe. Neo-Gothic architecture, inspired by the Polish Middle Ages, was viewed by the tsarist authorities as only a harmless variation of Western trends, whereas for the Poles it was a political symbol.
Warsaw Citadel, execution spot, ca. 1922. Source: Polona
Dominating over the city was a Citadel, and the soldiers manning it had strict orders to make sure that the Poles would never revolt again. Many generations of Polish insurgents were imprisoned here, and many distinguished independence activists and revolutionaries were hanged on its ramparts. But to leave no room for doubt, in 1879 the entire city itself was declared to be Fortress Warsaw, surrounded by Russian garrisons from all sides. Brandes concluded:
No illusion has been left to the inhabitants of the city.
Brandes cites the words of Tsar Nicholas, who during his first visit to Warsaw told the delegation sent to welcome him that the Citadel was not meant to defend the city, but to oppose it. He openly told the Poles what would happen if they refuse to abandon their 'dreams of own nationality, an independent Poland and similar delusions.' He finished his speech with the following words:
I ordered for this Citadel to be built and I declare that with the slightest attempt to rebel, I will order the city to be bombarded, I will ruin it, and be sure that I will not allow it to rise from the rubble.
Grand Theatre, 1896. Source: Mazovian Digital Library
The first night after his arrival, Brandes goes to the Grand Theatre (formerly called the National Theatre, but today ‘National’ is on the list of banned words). He watches the Shakespearean play 'Twelfth Night, or What You Will', in which Helena Modrzejewska, a famous actress, plays one of the main roles. He notes: 'The only place where it is allowed to speak the Polish language publicly is on the stage'.
This unusual situation led to real 'theatre craze' in nineteenth century Warsaw. The writer Antoni Zaleski, hiding under the pen-name of 'Baroness XYZ', commented:
Anyone who often visits Warsaw must notice, among other things, the disproportionate position of theatre in the life of society. [...] Theatre touches up all our passions which are released elsewhere in public life. [...] Theatre is a subject of general interest and there are times when a supernatural effort is needed to draw the audience's attention away from it and turn it to a different topic. All over the world, the theatre engages people only in the evenings, at the hour of performances, whereas in our city it does so all day, from the very morning. There is also no better city for the theatre than Warsaw, as none is so obsessed with it. The reason for this, however, is very simple. Nowhere else is the theatre as important as it is here. The political situation has generated this significance. Theatre is the only public institution where the Polish language has survived.
The theatre also became an arena for patriotic speeches and gestures. Guest performances by Russian troupes were boycotted – it was namely for economic reasons that the Polish language was allowed to stay on the stage, as without plays in Polish the theatres would go bankrupt. In Brandes' times, the story of Ignacy Neufeld was on everyone's lips. He was a 17-year-old middle school student, who had given Helena Modrzejewska a wreath decorated with white and red sashes (the colours of the Polish flag) after a play. He was expelled from school, then committed suicide. His funeral turned into a national demonstration.
Warsaw Imperial University. Source: public domain
Highly ideological, using Russian as the only language of instruction, the Imperial University replaced what had been the Polish-speaking ‘Warsaw Main School’. As Education Minister Dmitry Tolstoy stated:
The most important goal of the university should be drawing the Polish nationality closer and permanently integrating Vistula Land with the Empire, and not scientific matters, moreover ones pursued in the Polish spirit.
Brandes concluded:
The Polish language is absolutely forbidden in the University. All lectures, no matter whether they are delivered by men of Russian or Polish birth, must be in Russian. Not even the history of Polish literature may be taught in the language of the country. Nay, even in the corridors of the University the students are forbidden to speak Polish with each other.
Nowy Świat Street. Source: Polona
As a rule, the Russian diaspora was a closed community, isolated from Polish society. Tsarist soldiers and officials had their favourite addresses in the city, their own shops and meeting places. Nowy Świat Street was the centre of their cultural and social life. In Russian-language guidebooks it was dubbed 'the local Nevsky Prospect' – likening it to the most representative street of St. Petersburg. Nearby tenements hosted Russian bookshops and even a greengrocer with goods imported from Russia. There were also a chapel and a Russian middle school not far away. However, the most important place was the Russian Club, a favourite place of entertainment for the Russian personnel stationed in Vistula Land. The Club’s facilities included a bowling alley, billiards, and shooting range, and it served as a venue for balls, military orchestra concerts, and performances by Russian theatre troops.
