Cracow, Poland, 1848.
Since I last wrote you at Moscow, I have travelled over one thousand miles in Russia and Poland, by mail coach, private post, and lastly by railroad from Warsaw to this place, having had but one upset, without injury, and the breaking of an axle on another occasion, which obliged me to take the common wagon of the country. These wagons are made almost entirely of wood, with little iron, on low wheels, and very light. There not being any seats, the only resource was to fill the wagon with hay, to avoid the jolting. With a pair of good horses, and sometimes four, on the full jump, and a rough peasant driver, one gets over the road rapidly.
I have passed over large tracts of country entirely level, there being no great elevations in central or western Russia—a vast deal of uncultivated and thin soil—long distances made without signs of habitation or life, and presenting a desert appearance—most parts of the country thinly wooded; and it was gladdening to the eye to strike a town or village, to obtain supplies, but particularly gratifying to arrive in Poland, an old and better cultivated country, with more evidence of civilization, and means to support life. The weather has favored me much, being mild and dry, and the roads in good order.
On my arrival at Warsaw, on the banks of the Vistula, a city with a population of one hundred and fifty thousand, I was struck with its dull and sombre appearance, under the iron hand of despotic rule—liberty of thought and speech being suppressed. Here I found the Russian troops were marching out of the city, to take up winter quarters, after a general review. They were composed of thirty-one battalions of infantry, forty-six squadrons and eight divisions of cavalry, twenty batteries of artillery—in all thirty-four thousand men, ten thousand horses, and twohundred and twelve pieces of cannon. It was a brilliant sight to see them on the move. The Russian government is exceedingly jealous of its rights, and determined to maintain its authority. There are three hundred thousand soldiers ready to march to the frontier at a moment’s warning.
A signal telegraph is established from Warsaw to St. Petersburg, but the people here know nothing of the events in Europe. A Warsaw newspaper is a curiosity; it is about six inches square—a double sheet.
On passing the frontier, and coming to Cracow, I was questioned particularly why I was going out of my route on my way to Berlin, as my courier pass expressed; to which I replied I was ahead of time, and wished to see Cracow in passing. The conversation of the officer was of a nature to draw out my views, but I was on my guard. After which, as I was obliged to pass the night there, he was extremely polite, and told me the difficulty he had to obey orders in the visitation of luggage and examination of papers; he was even obliged to take off newspapers as envelopes from packages, to prevent the introduction of news from the adjacent countries.
Europe is in a dreadful state, and as yet there are little signs of conciliation or harmony. Germany with all its great and small kingdoms, with over thirty princes, with its different races, religions, and languages, is as difficult to amalgamate as vinegar, oil, and water, and no man can predict the result.
The horrible massacre at Vienna, the revolution in Hungary, the hanging of ministers, &c., have reached us, and you will see the accounts in the papers. I have been, since February last, either among revolutions, ahead of them, or after them, and have seen the effects produced, so that I have become accustomed to them; but I hope soon to be out of the way of European commotions, and as I have seen all the sights of the Continent with very few exceptions, I shall take my departure for one of the Ocean Isles where may be found some tranquillity, and a better climate for the ensuing winter.
In approaching Cracow, which was formerly a free state or republic, enjoying commercial trade, with a population of forty thousand, it presents a beautiful view with its churches and spires, but on entering it is found lifeless, with but little trade, and a miserable population. It was usurped by Austria in thespring of 1846, after the horrible massacre of the nobles by their own peasants, in Gallicia, through Austrian intrigue, of which you are undoubtedly familiar. The city is antique, and is remarkable for being the former residence of the Polish kings, whose tombs are found in the old cathedral, which was built in the fifteenth century, and which is adjoining the palace, and situated upon a commanding eminence. The cathedral is perhaps richer in treasures and costly gifts, dedicated by nobles, kings, and other devotees, than any north of Italy. In the crypt under the pave of the cathedral into which one descends by torches, are found the massive copper coffins, gilded with gold, of all the Polish kings. Here is also the sarcophagus of the great general, John Sobiesky, with his crown, sceptre, and sword; the remains of Joseph Poniatowski, who fell at Leipsig, and I well recollect the spot where he was lost, and where a monument is erected; likewise the remains of Kosciusko, who is so well known in our own country. They were brought here in 1817. About three miles from the city I ascended a mound of earth one hundred and fifty feet in height, which was raised to his memory by all classes of Poles, who wrought four years in completing it, and even brought portions of earth from the different battle-fields in which he was engaged.
Here is found an immense number of Jews who fled from Spanish persecution in the middle ages, and were granted an asylum by Casimir the Great. They have a fine opportunity here to traffic in exchanges, as all the coins of Russia, Austria, Prussia, and Poland are known, and here the traveller must make his exchanges. Men and women with bags in their hands present themselves on the arrival of a stranger, and it was my luck to fall into their hands, having Russian funds to exchange, and it required some skill to accomplish it without being fleeced, as I was surrounded by about twenty of them, and they hung together like a chain.
I was interested in passing through a portion of Gallicia to the great Salt mines of Cracow. The country about here is beautiful and picturesque. The town of Wieliczka contains a population of five thousand, and is mostly undermined by the salt works. I met with an exiled Pole in Cracow, who had recently returned from Paris, whom I invited to join me, as he had never seen the mines, and who acted as interpreter in the Polish language.We put on white frocks over our clothes, and hired a number of boys to carry lamps and a supply of torches to illuminate the subterranean vaults. We placed ourselves with the guides in a sort of swing attached by cords to the main rope, and descended to the first stage about two hundred feet. There are four stories to the depth of about thirteen hundred feet. We then by the aid of our lamps walked through the wide and airy galleries into several halls and chambers, then crossed over bridges spanning salt lakes and dived deeper down from one story to another by staircases. It is the most extraordinary work in the world. Here are found one thousand hands constantly employed by the Austrian Government. The mines have been worked since the ninth century; and although one walks for miles through these caverns, which undermine a whole city, passing through galleries one thousand feet in length, and saloons one hundred feet in height, still the supply is inexhaustible. There are immense saloons with candelabra in glittering crystal salt; there is a Gothic church ornamented with the full length figure of Christ upon the cross. Also the statues of saints as large as life; and once a year in the presence of all the miners mass is performed. One of the saloons was in the form of a theatre, and was fitted up for the emperor of Russia when he visited the mines and held a ball there. The illumination of these vast subterraneous caves with torches, throwing the lights upon obelisks and columns, with inscriptions dedicated to distinguished persons, produced an effect indescribable. The rock is hard, and is cut and chiselled, and even powder is employed in blasting it. It comes up in blocks of an oval form, about two and a half feet in length, by immense windlasses, driven by horse power, and is laden on wagons for the different markets to be broken up when received. It is computed that four millions of tons are taken out annually for the supply of the different governments bordering on Austria.