Knights & Noblesse in the 19thC: A Polish Crusade in Art

Introduction

After playing Chopin, I feel as if I have been weeping over sins that I never

committed, and mourning over tragedies that were not my own. Oscar Wilde.

At a time when images of modernity motivated the artists of the Salon des Refuses in Paris of the mid-nineteenth century, Polish art of the same time is infused with countless depictions of the knight on horseback. Although these artworks were often exhibited alongside the historical ‘grand manner’ paintings popular with the Official Salons, the detail in the artwork does not conform with the Art Pompier[1] genre and thus does not yield to a straightforward definition of Polish Art without reference to the unique historical context of nineteenth-century Poland.

Poland’s political, social and cultural circumstances in the nineteenth century is complex, unique and largely incomparable to most other European histories, in that, after more than 800 years of existence, the Polish state completely vanished from the world map, its land divided between its three neighbours, Russia, Prussia and Austria.

As a result of Poland being absent from the European map for the next 123 years, social, economic and historical records are still to this day fragmentary. [2] Esteemed Polish history scholar, Norman Davies attests that the true insight into this tumultuous time can only come from the realm of Polish culture and literature produced during this period, albeit mostly from Patriots living in exile.[3] However, whilst Davies maintains that Polish culture and literature is a surer guide to the essential features of Polish society under the Partitions, research indicates that investigation into the rich Polish Romantic literature of this period is impoverished.[4] This lack of scholarship is directly attributed to the Partitions as well as the consequences of Communist occupation in the aftermath of World War II.[5] Correspondingly, in comparison to discourse centred on Romanticism and nineteenth-century French art, studies of Polish art have been placed on the margins. In a major study of horses in art, reference to the image of the knight on horseback in Polish Art of the nineteenth-century is missing.[6]

Whilst scholarship into Victorian art has revealed that Pre-Raphaelite artists turned nostalgically to the medieval past, Ewa Micke-Broniarek of the National Museum in Warsaw has stated that that the Polish imagery of the knight on horseback was not used for sentimental anecdote but served a fundamental purpose in commenting upon the current political events.[7] The impetus for this dissertation revolves around a National Cultural Program for Polish art and artists, created in the 1850s that was inspired by the writings of Poland’s great Romantic poets, as briefly mentioned by art historian Anna Morawinska in a catalogue on nineteenth-century Polish painting.[8] Therefore, it is the aim of this thesis to investigate the purpose and significance of the enduring image of the knight on horseback in selected nineteenth-century Polish paintings with the intent of uncovering the special role this image of chivalry played during this tumultuous historical period.

To achieve this aim, the chapters of this thesis are presented as compositions from a musical score, for ‘more than the written word, it is Chopin’s music that remains the most universally accessible expression of Polish Romantic feeling.’[9] Accordingly, the musical references serve to heighten the emotional connection to the imagery. Chapter Two, ‘Chopin’s Polonaise: the Problem of Partitioned Poland,’ provides a detailed historical framework of Poland’s social, political and artistic situation in the nineteenth century. The second half of this chapter is sub-headed as: ‘Poetry, Philosophy and Painting: the Artistic Solution’ and explores in particular the influence of the unofficial Polish Government resident in Paris. This section highlights the significance of the so-called National Cultural Program created during the 1850s, which charged Polish artists with a mission that up until then had been carried out by Polish Romantic poets and philosophers. The chapter also makes reference to Polish art in comparison to the broader context of stylistic developments and trends in nineteenth-century European art, particularly the concurrent movements of Romanticism and Realism.

The discussion of the underlying ideology of the National Cultural Program leads to Chapter Three: The Knight’s Nocturne, which further considers the intrinsic link between nineteenth century Polish Romantic literature and Polish Art.[10] It then focuses attention on the known aspects of the important issues of patronage, artistic influences and styles, the role of the ‘artist-knight’ and audience. Biographical details of the artists who answered the call of the National Mission are also provided: Teofil Kwiatkowski (1809-1891), Jan Matejko (1838-1893), Juliusz Kossak (1824-1899), Arthur Grottger (1837-1867), Jozef Brandt (1841-1915), Ryszard Okninski (1848-1925), Maksymilian Gierymski (1846-1874) and Wojchiech Kossak (1856-1942).

Chapter Four, ‘The Chevalier’s Concerto’ includes an examination of the relationship between the underlying ideology of the National Cultural Program as a motivating factor for these artists and the formulation of the codified chivalric symbolism that unites these pictures, which are not only ordered in accordance with the historical content they present but also to the rise and lull of a Romantic symphony. It begins with reference to a golden era of the Polish Medieval Knight who battles the Teutonic Order, and then moves forward in time to focus upon images of Poland’s last great Knight-King, John III Sobieski. The study concludes with an appraisal of the imagery of the Insurgent of 1830 and 1863, the modern day ‘knight’ who continued the honourable crusade.

Having explored the iconography of the knight on horseback in Polish Art of the mid to late nineteenth century, which was created in answer to a National Mission decreed by a governing body living in exile in Paris, my concluding Chapter Five will aim to link the imagery to the wider socio-cultural scene in Paris and indeed Europe as a means of determining its profound significance in nineteenth-century European art history.

[1] Art Pompier – By the mid nineteenth century, the popularity of the history painting genre was on the decline. Art pompier or Ecclecticism (The Second Empire Style), which encouraged historicism, noble subject matter and content based on anecdotal history, served to please the middle classes who had risen to power and was considered ‘insipid’ by the Salon des Refuses artists of the Realist School, Fride-Carrassat, P. & Marcade, I. Movements in Painting, Chambers Harrap Publishers, 2005, p. 53.

[2] The writing of history was naturally prone to justify the Partitions, with the German-Russian version of history being acknowledged in other countries for the most part, Halecki, O. ‘The Problems of Polish Historiography’ in Slavonic and East European Review, American Series, vol. 2, no. 1, p. 225.

[3] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2001, p. 139.

[4] Kolakowski, L. ‘Review of Philosophy and Romantic Nationalism: the case of Poland by Andrzej Walicki’ in The Slavonic and East European Review, vol. 62. No. 1, 1984, p. 129; Schultze, B. ‘Review of Literature and Nationalism in Partitioned Poland 1795-1918 by Stanislaus Eile,’ in The Slavonic and East European Review, vol. 80, no. 3, 2002, p. 505.

[5] Mills, C. (ed), Adam Mickiewicz 1798-1855 Selected Poems, The Noonday Press, New York, 1956, p. 11.

[6] Pickeral, T. The Horse: 30, 000 Years of the Horse in Art, Merrell Publishers, New York, 2006; Pickeral refers only to the Pre-Raphaelites who ‘produced some of the most stunning depictions of horses brimming with noble fortitude’ p. 15.

[7] Micke-Broniarek, E. The National Museum in Warsaw, 2004, URL: http://www.culture.pl/en/culture/artykuly/os_matejko_jan

[8] Morawinska, A. ‘Waiting for the Dawn of Freedom’ in Nineteenth Century Polish Painting, National Museum in Warsaw & National Academy of Design, New York, 1988, p. 15.

[9] Lukowski, J. & Zawadzki, H. A Concise History of Poland, Cambridge University Press, 2001, p. 137.

[10] A Nocturne is a dreamy, romantic piece of music, evocative of the night.

Historical & Socio-Cultural Context: Poland Under the Partitions

In order to appreciate the context of Polish art in the nineteenth century, it is necessary to consider the political conditions in Poland after the Congress of Vienna in 1815 when Polish territory became firmly divided between Prussia, Austria and Russia (Maps 1 & 2). It is against this backdrop of a new European social order that Polish culture, art and society strived to preserve a national identity and regain an independent state.[1] Halecki, refers to this period as one of the saddest in the whole of Poland’s history.[2] He explains that the political solution imposed upon Poland was ‘unrealizable because of irreconcilable differences of mentality and culture.’[3] Tsarist bureaucracy, in particular, was the complete opposite of the constitutional liberties that Poland had been aiming for centuries.[4]

The Polish French Alliance

Davies explains that ‘the partitioning powers were consistently opposed to the new ideas emanating from France, so the Poles and French were natural partners.’[6] Poles rallied to the code of the French tri-coleur in thousands.[7] They had earlier joined Napoleon’s Legions in the hope that freedom would also be gained for their own land. These revolutionary tendencies spread amongst Polish youth, who were inspired by French examples.[8] The Poles marched under the motto ‘For Our Freedom and Yours’ and the inspiring Polish fight for Independence became associated with other causes for freedom around the world.[9] As fighters for liberty for all nations, Poles could be found on every barricade in Europe, ‘from Munich… to the Paris Commune.’[10] Walicki maintains that Polish Romanticism flowered in Poland at the time when European public opinion glorified the Poles as heroes of universal freedom[11] (fig. 1). Indeed, Davies muses that the impression is sometimes given that twenty million Poles spent the entire nineteenth century sitting behind assorted barricades at home and abroad.[12]

The Insurrection of 1830 

In 1830 a wave of growing unrest spread throughout occupied Poland, sparked in protest to the decree that Polish soldiers were expected to march with the Russians to quell the July revolution in France[13] (fig. 2). An Insurrection organized by the School of Cadets broke out on the night of the 12th November 1830 (fig. 3). They were soon joined by the aristocratic classes who were enthused but ‘did not agree with the radical acts of violence that threatened to compromise the ideals of the Uprising.’[14] This last bastion of the ‘Age of Reason’ included arts patron and diplomat Prince Adam Czartoryski who ‘counted on some resolution through the code of military chivalry.’[15] The Polish Army soon became involved and ‘the Age of Reason gave way to Romantic Rebellion.’[16] In spite of this, however, the November Uprising was soon crushed by the Tsarist Army.

The consequences of this Insurrection involved many suppressive measures. Polish soldiers were drafted into the Russian Army; aristocratic estates were seized and the majority of Poland’s elite had to flee Poland and live in exile in Paris, including Prince Adam Czartoryski; universities were closed and many rebels and their families were condemned to penal servitude in Russia (fig. 4). [17] The school system became Russified and speaking in the native tongue was strictly forbidden in school buildings.[18] Additionally, the Prussian states began an active process of Germanisation and further repressions were co-ordinated with the Emperor of Austria.[19] Nonetheless, ‘the November Uprising of 1830 heralded a whole chain of Insurrections and conspiracies which was to persist for over 30 years.’[20] Moreover, this Uprising became the catalyst for the development of a National Cultural Program for Polish Art and Artists during the 1850s.[21] In fact some sources indicate that the artworks created as a result of the National Cultural Program for Polish Art and Artists, inspired by and allied with Polish Romantic Poetry, invariably led to another major Insurrection in 1863.[22] Polish writers maintain that not only did the poetry contribute to the Risings, but it actually precipitated them.[23] Davies also refers to the literature as a prime mover in Poland’s political culture. There is an explicit link between Romantic literature and insurrectionary politics.[24] Halecki adjoins that the true meaning of the Insurrections is only fully revealed when it is considered alongside Polish Romanticism of the same years.[25]

The Uprising of 1863

The 1863 Uprising was an act of true Romanticism or despair.[26] Davies explains that as the Poles had no army, this campaign had less chance of success.[27] Even so, Halecki explains that ‘never had such a large class of the population rallied to a movement which did not possess even the skeleton of a regular army.’[28] This conflict took the form of a guerrilla war fought in the countryside, hills and forests between Europe’s largest professional force and the volunteers of an unseen, underground national army.[29] This conflict lasts for three years and Halecki asserts that ‘it was purely the acts of gallantry’[30] that enabled the resistance to last so long.[31]

Romanticism and Realism – The Changing Ideologies in Art 

After the failure of the January Uprising of 1863 there was a general consensus amongst Warsaw Poles that they should shift their focus towards trade, industry and infrastructure in order to take their place amongst the modern nations of Europe.[32] Known as the era of ‘Organic Work’, Positivist thinkers looked to furthering economic and cultural modernisation.[33] This compromise however, also included an effort to raise the national consciousness of the population through art and literature and retained many of the ideas of the National Cultural Program created in the 1850s. Even though the focus of this era (1863-1905) leant towards Positivism, the theoretical division between Positivism and Romanticism was not always easy to sustain.[34] In this way, even though Nobel Prize winner Henry Sienkiewicz wrote the historical novel The Teutonic Knights using the techniques of literary Realism, his intention was to keep the nation alive in the darkest days of oppression by ‘raising the spirits with stirring tales of Poland’s past.’[35] Similarly, a book by novelist Eliza Orzeszkowa entitled Patriotism and Cosmopolitanism (1880), had much in common with Romantic theories of the nation in spite of her close connection to the Positivist Movement.[36] In it she appeals to the romantic cult of sacrifice as well as the need to embrace both the living generation and the generations of the past.[37] The analysis of artworks depicting the Insurgents in Chapter Four (3rd Movement – Legato) will determine how the embodiment of Romantic revivalism, the image of the knight on horseback, is adapted to this changing ideology.

The leading figures who supported Positivism called for emotional constraint and ‘a more cautious approach as a way of reigning in the endless violence, catastrophes and fantasies of the Romantics.’[38] Positivist poetry (see Appendix C)[39] written in reaction to Romantic verse, clearly illustrates how the chivalric ideal was so ingrained in the minds of the Romantic artists, such as the referral to the charge of the cavalry, the sabre and the whirling sword, that feature so prominently in the artworks. Whilst pragmatic Positivists rejected the belief that history could be used for moral or didactic purposes, Romantics continued to see the injustices of the past as the guiding light of the present and the inspiration of the future.[40] This Romanticism so inherent to the Polish mindset resurfaced in a wave of Neo-Romanticism at the turn of the century. Nonetheless, as reflected through the artworks of the Insurgent to be discussed in Chapter Four, there appears to be an ‘interminable dialogue between the Realists and the Romantics that kept both traditions alive and enabled them to complement each other.’[41] In this way the historic events which inevitably brought up new demands for Polish art and artists led to the development of a landscape and genre-historical painting that is characterized by a combination of Realism with Romantic tradition.[42]

As follows, Asherson explains that The Partitions are the single most important fact of Polish history and played a vital role in forming ‘the attitudes of modern Poles towards the world they live in.’[43] Halecki also asserts that there are three times in the course of Poland’s history when her culture reached a particularly high level, each time participating in the powerful currents of European thought.[44] He identifies the third flowering of Polish culture as the most brilliant and original, as it benefitted from an intellectual movement common to all Europe, that of Romanticism.[45] Indeed, according to Asherson, ‘neither the old Age of Reason nor the optimistic, liberal mood of the contemporary West could answer the question of Poland’s fate during the nineteenth century.’[46]

Culture and Society

In a land where all forms of political activity of a national character were gradually suppressed, poetry and artwork were mobilised as the most convenient vehicles of political expression.[47] Indeed, in the key work of writer Mauracy Mochnacki (1804-1834), written at the height of the November Uprising, he clearly states that the ‘moral force of a nation as expressed in its arts and culture was the nations surest weapon in the struggle for survival.’[48] According to Halecki, Poland was able to survive destruction of her state and refuse to be amalgamated with the ‘victorious’ nations who dominated her politically.[49] The Polish art and literature of the period became a substitute for normal political discussions and activities and thus assumed the role of a political surrogate.[50]

In this way, ‘in a society where political activism was usually judged as an indictable crime, painting and literature developed its own literary code, a corpus group of symbols which assumed a life of their own.’[51] This assertion is also confirmed by the curator of the National Museum in Poznan. She maintains that ‘the paintings that bear witness to the existence of the generation of Insurgents for independence such as the canvases by Josef Chelmonski, codify the image of the Polish landscape for future generations.’[52] One is thus reminded of the artists of the Heidelberg School in late nineteenth-century Australia who also painted recurring motifs, creating a common artistic language that played a direct social role.[53]

The conditions in 19th C Poland brought the art to a high pitch of tuning and taught people to read meaning in the most innocent material. They had to learn to decipher a new mode of veiled expression where hints, oblique historical references, allegories and omissions spoke louder than superficial content.[54] In Chapter Four, the Overture, an analysis of Jan Matejko’s Battle of Grunwald will reveal a unique play of opposites and thus hidden meaning. Accordingly, Polish artists and writers developed a sixth sense for satisfying both the censors and their readers.[55] Adam Zamoyski, affirms that the country underwent a cultural renaissance, celebrating national myths and imagined Samartian virtues.[56] Halecki also confirms that the time of the Insurrections signified a high level of creative activity in the intellectual sphere that was closely linked to the political situation.[57] For that reason, ‘the literature and paintings became a great fortress, impregnable because its invisible walls could not be breached by guns and a search warrant.’[58] Poetry, art and resistance were indeed partners in the common cause for Freedom.[59]

The activities of the Polish centers abroad enabled networks of patriotic organizations to be formed.[60] It was in this world of the ‘Polish spirit’ that men and women could live their lives in their own way often in defiance of the law and in spite of the established order.[61] ‘The particular role of art in the development of Polish spiritual life must be ascribed to the contemporary conditions in Poland.’[62] Additionally, Morawinska affirms that symbolism and poetic metaphor provided a mutual ground for dialogue between Polish art and the rest of the world.[63] In this way, art and literature became the main platform for the battle for independence, national and social.[64]

[1] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 9.

[2] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, third ed., London: J M Dent & Sons, 1961, p.229.

[3] Halecki, O. op. cit. p. 230.

[4] ibid.

[5] Appendix A - an Overview of the History of Poland (Timeline) – up to The Partitions; Appendix B – The Polish Constitution, May 3rd 1791.

[6] Davies, N. Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 139.

[7] ibid, p. 140.

[8] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 231.

[9] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 18.

[10] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 233; Davies, N. Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 146.

[11] Walicki, A. Philosophy and Romantic Nationalism: the Case of Poland, Clarendon Press, New York, 1982, p. 357.

[12] Davies, N. Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 159.

[13] Halecki, The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 231.

[14] ibid, p. 232; Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 145.

[15] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, ibid, p. 237.

[16] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 145.

[17] ibid, p. 146.

[18] Walicki, A. op. cit. p. 337.

[19] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 235.

[20] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 145.

[21] The ‘Great Emigration’ was Poland’s response to the failure of the November Rising. Most of the intellectual and political elite of Poland fled abroad, establishing their exile centre in Paris around Prince Adam Czartoryski at the Hotel Lambert. (Asherson, N. The Struggles for Poland, Michael Joseph, London, 1987, p. 26).

[22] Hotel Lambert also had its secret network in Poland and planned a new Insurrection (Lerski, J. Historical Dictionary of Poland 966-1945, Piotr Wrobel & Richard Kozicki (eds), Greenwood Press, West Westport CT, 1996, p. 202

[23] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 204.

[24] Maurycy Mochnacki (1804-34) cited in Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, ibid, p. 177.

[25] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 241.

[26] ibid, p. 240.

[27] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe : the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 147.

[28] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 240.

[29] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, loc. cit.

[30] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 231.

[31] Chapter Four (3rd Movement – Legato), considers such Romanticism in several artworks which portray this event.

[32] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 148.

[33] Walicki, A. op. cit. p. 340.

[34] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 148.

[35] ibid, p. 180.

[36] Walicki, A. op. cit. p. 342.

[37] ibid, p. 343.

[38] ibid, p. 176.

[39] Appendix C – Forward Through Work by Karol Swidinski (1841-77).

[40] Walicki, A. op. cit. p. 182; p. 183.

[41] ibid, p. 184.

[42] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 104.

[43] Asherson, N. op. cit. p. 5.

[44] The first being the Renaissance, the second was during the reign of Stanislaus Augustus (1764-95) and the third is Poland at the time of the Insurrections.

[45] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 242.

[46] Asherson, N. op. cit. p. 26.

[47] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe : the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 154.

[48] ibid, p. 178.

[49] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 251.

[50] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 154.

[51] ibid.

[52] Golub, M. The National Museum in Poznan, URL: http://www.mnp.art.galerie/malarstwo/index_a.html.

[53] Burn, I. ‘Beating Around the Bush: the landscapes of the Heidelberg School’ in Dialogue: Writings in Art History, Allen & Uniwn, Sydney, 1991, p. 31.

[54] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 186.

[55] ibid, p. 187.

[56] Zamoyski, A. Holy Madness: Romantics, Patriots and Revolutionaries 1776-1871, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London, p. 36.

[57] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 242.

[58] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe : the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 187.

[59] ibid, p. 178.

[60] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 13.

[61] Davies, N. op. cit. p. 139.

[62] Morawski, S. ‘Polish Theories of Art between 1830-1850’ in The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, vol. 16, no. 2, 1957, p. 233.

[63] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 18.

[64] Morawski, S. op. cit. p. 233.

The Elements of the National Cultural Program for Polish Artists of the 19th Century 

Whilst Morawinska does not identify the origins of the National Cultural program which ‘enunciated the direction for Polish art and artists,’ Morawski provides that the fundamental source of Polish theories of art was the émigré circles in Paris.[1] The Parisian home of the exiled Polish aristocratic Czartoryski family, Hotel Lambert (figs. 5 & 6), on St Louis Island in Paris, was, according to Lutowski and Zawadzki one of the most prestigious meeting places of the émigré political groupings.[2] Halecki agrees that a vast network of diplomatic overtures emanated from this essential hub.[3] In the same way, Davies describes the Czartoryski residence as the symbol of Polish operations.[4] A centre of concentrated diplomatic and cultural activity, Hotel Lambert became the colloquial name for the circle of Polish aristocrats; representatives of the nobility; military officers; bourgeois intellectuals; academics and artistic talents who formed the unofficial government of Poland.[5]

This political group was led by Prince Adam Czartoryski (fig. 7), who was looked upon as the future king of Poland or ‘King de facto.’[6] Research indicates that the ideology of Hotel Lambert was based on the 3rd May Constitution 1791 which was co-written by the last king of Poland, Stanislaus Augustus, who abdicated in 1795 when Poland was partitioned.[7] According to Pekacz, Czartoryski believed in the 18th C reforms initiated by King Stanislaus Augustus and his party aimed to uphold the democratic ideology of the Constitution which promoted the notion of liberty for all Polish citizens.[8] Furthermore, Morawinska asserts that King Stanislaus Augustus placed much value on the didactic potential of the arts, creating institutions that educated and promoted artists.[9] In this way, Czartoryski ‘decided to call the Sejm into being in Paris hoping that it would provide leadership for the future.’[10]

In achieving this end the Hotel Lambert focussed its activities on (1) diplomatic operations which kept the question of Polish independence alive in European politics; (2) developing policies to shape the future government system; (3) the development of cultural policies that could be used as political devices to create an independent Poland.[11] Pekacz and Lerski both maintain that in addition to its political and democratic activity, Hotel Lambert sponsored philanthropic and cultural work and patronized cultural, learned and tutelary institutions including the Polish literary Society, the Historical Literary Society, the Polish Library in Paris and Polish language schools in Paris. Davies attests that these institutions were of major importance and that Paris was a more significant centre of Polish culture than Warsaw or Cracow.[12]

The Artistic Circle of Hotel Lambert

The Great Emigration included a large part of the artistic talent of the day including poets, writers, artists and musicians. The literary colleagues of Czartoryski included the most prominent Polish poets, Adam Mickiewicz and Juliusz Slowack who, ‘forged from Romanticism, the single most important school of modern Polish literature.’[13] Pekacz adds that the cultural activities of this intellectual circle included discussions pertaining to the role of the arts and Polish artists in the preservation of values of the Polish national culture under the partitions.[14]

In connecting the role of the poets to the formulation of the National Cultural Program for artists, Lechon maintains that Mickiewicz acted as a spiritual leader of the exiles and consequently, his inspiration found its way into the visual arts.[15] Accordingly, it can be argued strongly that the National Cultural Program for artists was thus formulated. Both Lechon and Helestynski agree that Mickiewicz’s Books of the Polish Nation and Pilgrimage (1825) provided the exiles with ‘a great ideological program,’ not only ‘a source of aesthetic delight but simultaneously a political and moral directive.’[16] An article from ‘The Tribune of People’s & Literary Essays, written in 1849 by Mickiewicz, reflects the democratic and Christian ideals of the Cultural Program for artists. Coincidentally, the title of the article is ‘Our Program.’[17]

Furthermore, Mickiewicz’s Prayer of the Pilgrim is supplied (Appendix D). This poem pleads to the God of the Jagiello’s, Sobieski and Koscuisko, all knights whose memories are revived through the artworks that will be analyzed in Chapter Four. With its underlying theme of religious chivalry, the influence of Mickiewicz writings on the iconography of the National Program for Artists which aimed to lift the spirit of the nation by recalling its brave past is most apparent. Furthermore, in considering Hotel Lambert’s aim of preserving the values of Polish culture through artwork, Lutowski and Zawadzki provide a further vital clue to the ideology of the program - the aristocratic Czartoryski deemed the traditions of the szlachta (the Polish knightly class) as the vital ingredient of Polish national values.[18]

The Elements of the National Cultural Program for Artists

Whilst the writings of Adam Mickiewicz may be viewed as the primary source of inspiration for the National Program’s ideology, this section briefly looks also at the other patrons of Hotel Lambert, such as the philosophers and historians who contributed to the artistic theory or philosophy. A summary of the elements of the National Program is provided (see Appendix E).

I. The Writings of Poet Adam Mickiewicz ~ Heroism and Patriotism

Whilst in exile in Paris, Adam Mickiewicz developed a theory of Polish Messianism[19] writing his books on the Insurrectionary cause in biblical style.[20] The majesty of biblical verse, as was the practice of troubadour knights, ‘became the strongest of Romantic metaphors’ and ‘extolled the great universal mission of Poland.’[21] Mickiewicz believed that culture was in a state of regression and that it could only be saved by a return to Christianity.[22] His prose painted scenes which evoked the Poland of other days, such as the heroic life of the Polish nobility.[23] His patriotism was therefore infused with chivalric ideal whereby his valiant knights ‘suffer for the salvation of the world, to redeem the sins of all nations so that they may become worthy of freedom.’[24] Using subject matter common to the two most revolutionary nations in Europe, Mickiewicz wished to also encapsulate characteristic trends in European thought of the period. The image of the knight became the linking and universal theme of Polish Romanticism and therefore, ‘France, the country of Charlemagne and Napoleon, possessed the greatest amount of ‘holy fire’ and was called by Mickiewicz ‘the arch nation.’[25]

II. The Writings of Poet Juliusz Slowacki ~ Spirituality and Mysticism

Juliusz Slowacki, the greatest rival of Mickiewicz, wrote of supernatural heroes and explored the mystical world. He pursued the ‘life of the spirit’ generally taken to be the hallmark of Romanticism. His philosophical treatise entitled Creation Through Spirit, (1844) explored the development of a system of spiritual evolutionism whereby the higher beings within the universe undertake the quest to transform and advance themselves through persistent struggle, thereby embarking on the road to God.[26] Walicki notes that this progressive development was possible by means of one’s own heroic efforts.[27] Moreover, these kindred spirits had a moral duty to lead others which is ‘typical of the world view of aristocracy and nobility.’[28] According to Walicki, this spiritual hierarchy was an attempt to bring back the warlike spirit of the ancient Polish nobility and the warrior class.[29] Slowacki thus used the symbol of the knight found in every epoch of Poland’s history to transmit his interpretation of Poland’s suffering to his audience.[30] Accordingly it is apparent that the concepts of religious chivalry became an integral theme of the National Program, hence the enduring theme of the knight on horseback in the artworks.

III. The Philosophy of August Cieszkowski ~ Themes from the Old Testament and Christianity

In 1838 August Cieszkowski (1814-94) published several works which helped to reconcile national politics with Catholic belief, thus combating the Romantics reputation for insurgence.[31] Using the ideas integral to chivalry, Romantic Poles could cheerfully accept as true that their nation's death under The Partitions could lead to a better life for themselves and their people.[32] Similarly, in 989AD the Church developed the Peace of God as the answer to the barbaric times.[33] Under The Partitions, Serfdom was still intact in most parts of Poland and it was believed that the independence of the nation could only be won in conjunction with the emancipation of the peasantry.[34] The implications these of these long-standing feudal hierarchical relationships will also be explored when analysing the artworks depicting the Insurgents in Chapter Four. The paintings which illustrate this era are intriguing for their unique combination of the Romantic and Realist genres, with the very essence of Realism being the support of the lower classes through their depiction in artworks. In this way, the National Program aimed to encourage all Poles to serve the cause of international society, of a lasting peace based on justice and charity.

IV. Chivalric Idealism

Poland’s greatest authority on Polish Messianism, Professor Lutoslawski describes Polish Messianism as a knightly call, to awake and assume a national mission, not merely for Poland alone, but also for the universal good of humankind.[35] The ideas of Plato also influenced Lutoslawski’s theory of Polish Messianism.[36] Indeed, Plato’s theory of society revealed in The Republic expounds the idea of an ideal harmonious society divided in three classes – the rulers, the soldiers and the people.[37] The prevailing imagery on the knight on horseback as guardian and protector confirms this reference to feudalism and also substantiates Slowacki’s uplifting philosophy that ‘there is a spiritual hierarchy that struggles against a material hierarchy on earth.’[38] Lutoslawski also talks of the unseen triumph of unseen forces over a world of chaos and death.[39]

V. Historicism

As follows, the theories of these philosophers were united with other expressions of Polish intellectual life such as the domain of the historical sciences.[40] Polish philosophers and historians played a prominent role in the general European inclination for Messianic theories, all of which were adapted in order to explain how the agonies of the present could be resolved into a viable future.[41] Halecki maintains that this time in Polish culture was most original and benefited from the intellectual Movements common to Europe.[42] Polish philosophers, writers and artists challenged the Realist philosophy that ‘the only valid subject for the contemporary artist was the contemporary world.’[43] The Poles turned to the past and saw history as a more accurate means of understanding the present. According to Davies, many of the literary and artistic works produced during this time served to educate and inform the new generations.[44] To this Walicki further submits that a common feature of the national philosophy put forward by Polish philosophers was the belief that the image of the future can be predicted and deduced from knowledge of the past.[45] Indeed, in his article Polish Theories of Art between 1830-1850, Morawski upholds that historicism was characteristic of the intellectual attitude toward life. Questions surrounding Polish national traditions, the characteristics of the Polish nation and what knowledge could be gained from the past for the present were reflected in the theory of art.[46]

The historian Charles Szajnocha[47] reconstructed the Jagiellonian era and revived memories so different from the miseries of the present time. In both the Uprisings of 1831 and 1863, parts of Lithuania rose in solidarity with Poland to combat oppression as they did against the Teutonic Order in the Battle of Grunwald in 1410, showing that the bonds of common loyalty had not been broken.[48] Jan Matejko builds on this idea of the knightly call in his painting of the same name.[49] The union between Poland and Lithuania could thus be treated as ‘a harbinger of the brotherly union of all nations.’[50]

Hence, the use of historic metaphor and chivalric symbolism in poetry and painting provided Poland’s younger generations with ‘models of personal behaviour, with a repertoire of gestures, with a vocabulary for verbalising their mental experiences, with stereotypes both of their own and the occupiers,' and with a vision of the coming struggle and the coming victory.’[51] As follows, the images of chivalry that were created in answer to the directions of the National Cultural Program, provided a world of freedom for Poles, together with a purpose and a method of bearing the terrible burden of reality.[52]

[1] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 15; Morawski, S. op. cit. p. 217.

[2] Lukowski, J. & Zawadzki, H. A Concise History of Poland, Cambridge University Press, 2001, p. 137.

[3] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, J. M. Dent & Sons, London, 1961, p. 229.

[4] Davies, N. Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, Oxford University Press, 2001, p. 173.

[5] Arnold, S. & Zychowski, M. Outline History of Poland: From the Beginning of the State to the Present Time, Polonia Publishing House, Warsaw, 1962, p. 101; Peckaz, J. Hotel Lambert, URL:www.paris-architecture.info/PA061.htm; Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 237; Lerski, J. op. cit. p. 202.

[6] Arnold, S. & Zychowski, M. ibid; Davies, N. God’s Playground: A History of Poland: Vol 2 1795 to the Present, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1981, p. 276; Halecki, O. op. cit. p. 237; Lerski, J. ibid.

[7] Arnold, S. & Zychowski, M. ibid; Lerski, J. ibid; Peckacz, J. ‘Hotel Lambert’ in Encyclopaedia of Revolutions of 1848, James Castain (ed), URL: www.ohio.edu.chastian/index.htm

[8] Pekacz, J. ‘Deconstructing a National Composer: Chopin and the Polish Exiles in Paris 1831-49’ in 19th Century Music, vol. 24, no. 2, 2000, p. 165.

[9] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 10.

[10] Zamoyski, A. op. cit. p. 282.

[11] Berry, R. ‘Review: The Balkan Politics of Hotel Lambert’ in The American Historical Review, vol. 83, no. 4, 1978, p. 1056.

[12] Davies, N. Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 226.

[13] Davies, N. God’s Playground: Vol. 2, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1981, p. 276.

[14] Pecacz, J. ‘Deconstructing a National Composer: Chopin and Polish Exiles in Paris 1831-49,’ op. cit. p. 170.

[15] Lechon, J. ‘Adam Mickiewicz: a critical appreciation’ in Mickiewicz: Selected Poems, Clark Mills (ed), op. cit. p. 38; Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 12.

[16] Lechon, J. loc. cit; Helesztynski, S (ed), Adam Mickiewicz 1798- 1855 : Selected Poetry and Prose, Polonia Publishing House, Warsaw, 1955, p. 7.

[17] ‘Both internally and externally we shall be guided by the principles of Christian policy…we shall also support those…who, faithful to the progressive instinct of the masses, will work to build social order concordant with the new needs of the people’ (Mickiewicz in Helesztynski, S. op. cit. p. 178).

[18] Lukowski, J. & Zawadzki, H. op. cit. p. 138.

[19] Poles fell back upon ancient Jewish concepts of choice, sin, atonement and redemption, or ‘salvation through suffering.’ Thus Polish nationalism took on a religious and spiritual significance (Talmon, J. L. Political Messianism: the Romantic Phase, Secker and Warburg, London, 1960, p. 268).

[20] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 244.

[21] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: The Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 224; Walicki, A. Philosophy and Romantic Nationalism; the case of Poland, Clarendon Press, New York, p. 247.

[22] Mills, C. op. cit. p. 49.

[23] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit.

[24] ibid, p. 243.

[25] Walicki, A. op. cit p. 265.

[26] ibid, p. 192.

[27] ibid, p. 279.

[28] ibid, p. 283.

[29] Ibid.

[30] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 246; Walicki, A. op. cit. p. 283.

[31] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s present, op. cit., p. 178.

[32] Appendix F. The Ten Commandments of the Code of Chivalry.

[33] Gies provides a stirring description of assembled nobility, knights and peasants in the open fields. According to Chronicler Ralph Glaber those present were inflamed with such ardour that … with outspread arms and with one voice they cried to God, “Peace, peace, peace!” that this might be a sign of the perpetual covenant they had promised between themselves and God. (Gies, F. The Knight in History, Harper & Row Publishers, NY, 1984, p. 18).

[34] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe : the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 147.

[35] Mollenhauer, B. ‘Lutoslawski and the Knight Among Nations’ in American Slavic and Eastern Review, vol. 13, no. 2, 1954, p. 245.

[36] ibid, p. 246.

[37] Siwes, D. Art Gallery of South Australia Magazine, June/July 2009.

[38] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe : the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 192.

[39]Mollenhauer, B. op. cit. p. 245; Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, ibid.

[40] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 247.

[41]Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 178.

[42] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 242.

[43] Nochlin, L. Realism, Penguin, Harmondsworth, p. 24.

[44] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe : the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 151.

[45] Walicki, A. op. cit. p. 95.

[46] Morawski, S. op. cit. p. 222.

[47] Poland’s chief historian of the Romantic Era, d. 1864 (Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 248).

[48] Morawski, S. op. cit, p. 147.

[49] An analysis of this artwork in Chapter Four will reveal his didactic aim in addition to references to Mickiewicz’ stirring poem The Ode to Youth within the imagery.

[50] Walicki, A. op. cit. p. 249.

[51] ibid, p. 204.

[52] ibid.

A Masked Ball at Hotel Lambert

A painting by Teofil Kwiatokowski (cat. 1)[1] which depicts a masked ball at the Hotel Lambert in Paris is layered with symbolism concerning Poland’s struggle for freedom, not just on a political level but also on a plane whereby the imagination may also be liberated, as was the aim of the National Cultural Program developed by the ‘unofficial’ Polish government in exile.

Having surveyed the writings of the contributors to the National Program that provided the artists with their mission of spiritual guidance for the Polish nation in Chapter Two, the elements of the program may be thus summarised as chivalric idealism; the mystical aspects of the chivalric quest; the stirring of patriotism and heroism through the revival of national legends; historicism; Christian concepts that reflect upon the nature of suffering, resurrection and salvation and the value of the arts as a whole as an instrument of social change. The iconography of the Masked Ball at Hotel Lambert (cat. 1), also known as Chopin’s Polonaise symbolically allegorises the key elements of the National Cultural Program.[2]

The poet who chiefly inspired the spiritual intention of the National Mission, Adam Mickiewicz, (figs. 8 & 9), appears in the painting next to a piano, in the foreground on the viewer’s right. He appears gestures to the attendees beside him, a woman and child, as they watch the ball’s participants as they move to a music played by Chopin who is seated at the piano (fig. 10).[3] The democratic ideals of the National Cultural program are highlighted by the presence of the younger and future generation at the ball. The vital role of the arts in the national mission of spiritual guidance for Poland’s people is strengthened by the inclusion of Chopin who provides the rhythm to this symbolic dance. Halecki describes Chopin as inseparable from the poets, and who like the artists speaks a language understood by all nations:

The sounds which he set vibrating, the echo of which is prolonged unceasingly, have evoked and still evoke better than the paintings, better than the most eloquent of verses, all the glories and sufferings of Poland.[4]

The dancers are dressed in historical costume and the various guises of the knight figure prominently. Central to the composition is a medieval knight in armour and King Sobieski and his Winged Hussars are all present (fig. 11). The sense of spiritualism and chivalric mysticism is enhanced by the church-like arched pillars and vaulted ceiling, which according to historical record was a temporary decoration. One wonders if the vaulted décor was in fact a deliberate means of evoking the Old Polish Legend of King Boleslaus and his Knights who lay dormant in a dark cavern within the Gevont Mountain in the Tatry region. According to this legend, if Poland needs them, they will awake and ride forth to serve her.[5]Professor Lutkowski confirms the idea of the knightly call by referring to this legend, which speaks of the renewal of chivalric faith in times of chaos and death. Indeed, within the cavernous ballroom the figures dance as if in a dreamlike state. The statue-like figure of Prince Adam Czartoryski can be seen making his way through those dancing.

The artist Kwiatkowski (fig. 12) is also unmistakable in the painting; he stands to the viewer’s left behind the robed figure of Prince Adam Czartoryski. Dressed in armour and in a powerful stance with hand on hip he looks straight at the onlooker. According to Morawinska, other artists such as Jacek Malczewski (fig. 13) often portrayed themselves in armour to underline the nobleness of the calling of the artist-knight, and faithfulness to the patriotic ideals with which they dedicated their life and work. Indeed, the image of the artist-knight further supports the relevance of the national mission bestowed upon Poland’s artists.

[1] Teofil Kwiatowski, Chopin’s Polonaise – a Ball in Hotel Lambert in Paris, 1849-60, watercolour and gouache on paper, National Museum, Poznan.

[2] The Polonaise is a dance traditionally performed by Polish nobility.

[3] An article by Dr Lubov Keefer explores the influence of Mickiewicz on the ballades of Chopin, Keefer, L. ‘The Influences of Adam Mickiewicz on the Ballades of Chopin,’ in American Slavic and Eastern European Review, vol. 5, no. ½, 1946, pp. 38-50.

[4] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 250

[5] Anstryther, F. C. Old Polish Legends, The Polish Library Glascow, 1945, p. 53.

The Artist-Knight

The self-portrait of the artist as a knight in Kwiatkowski’s Masked Ball at Hotel Lambert (cat. 1), further supports the concept of an artistic quest being upheld by Polish artists. Kwiatkowski was Lieutenant Colonel of the Fourth Polish Regiment during the November Uprising of 1830.[1] Just as the soldier poets, common to the Polish Army, saw themselves as the knights of the day, setting off to kill the dragon and save the national maiden, so too did the artists use these Romantic and patriotic themes developed by Romantic poets.[2]

In a similar way, Jan Matejko (fig. 18) acquired a serious attitude to art which he understood as a vocation and national mission. He treated art as a means of national service and supported the goal of national independence.[3] Matejko explains his role as follows: ‘I do not compose or paint according to the ideals of pictorial artistic perfection. I have more important matters in mind.’[4] Matejko was essentially a social historican who chose to express himself in art.[5] The artist wished to portray the former grandeur of the Polish Republic and the former grandeur of the Polish armies, as a means of uplifting the spirit of the nation and resurrecting faith in the restoration of an independent country.[6]

Considered to be Poland’s greatest history painter, Matejko’s unique history paintings fascinated wide social circles and surpassed the domain of art.[7] One French critic saw his art ‘as a museum, not a living painting, a work that demanded eight days study of its every minute element in order to be understood and appreciated.’[8] Morawinska confirms that rather than illustrate an historical event, Matejko crafts a ‘synthetic vision encompassing its reasons, actions and results in one ponderable moment,’[9] thus supporting the underlying ideology of the National Cultural Program, that the past provide reasons for the circumstances of the present.

Halecki identifies Juliusz Kossak (fig. 19) who ‘so perfectly understood the great Poland of the past,’ as the artist who opened the way to Jan Matejko’s historical pictures.[10] Juliusz Kossak is known for his historical battle scenes, chiefly of the Napeoleonic era (fig. 20). Kossak emigrated to Paris in 1855, where his three artist sons were born. Since the activities of Hotel Lambert are stored in archives in the National Museum in Cracow, I have been unable to ascertain as to whether Kossak was involved with Hotel Lambert whilst in Paris. However, it is known that the exiles carried out their activities through secret networks throughout Europe. The secrecy of these ‘underground’ set of connections may also contribute to the lack of conclusive information, nevertheless, a closer examination of the travel movements and connections between the artists, reveals some interesting insights into the cultural networks of Hotel Lambert.[11]

Juliusz Kossak’s son Wojciech (fig. 21) formed a colony of Polish artists in Munich together with Josef Brandt (fig. 22). Brandt was persuaded by Juliusz Kossak to abandon his studies of engineering in Paris to form the Munich school.[12] Okninski and Gierymski were also members of this group. Brandt, whose artworks of Polish cavalrymen battling Kossaks and Turks depicted a Romanticized view of seventeenth-century life on the exotic eastern outskirts of Poland. His use of Orientalism combined with picturesque landscape elements, made him popular amongst young Polish artists. Together with Gierymski (fig. 23),[13] Brandt co-founded the Polish school of landscape and genre-historical painting that combined Realist and Romantic elements.

Gierymski received a medal for his depiction of a group of insurgents on a desolate country road, The Insurrectionary Patrol (cat. 9) at the World Exhibition in Vienna in 1873. This realistic insurrectionary scene was inspired by his own experiences and Gierymski would often speak of the ‘smiling melancholy’ of the Polish countryside.[14] Moreover, in taking into account the Romantic use of the history painting genre as a form of reportage to remark on present-day events, Brandt too was able to set the mode for contemporary comment, which is camouflaged in the exotic settings and subject matter.

In further considering the networking activities of these artists, it is of note that Brandt and Juliusz Kossak returned to Warsaw in 1860 where Kossak began work for a Polish Magazine Tygodnik Illustrowany. Okninski’s works were often published in this magazine as well as in The Warsaw Ear. From 1886, Okninski returned to Warsaw where he became a pioneer of Polish press photography. Gierymski worked as an illustrator for Polish Journals from Munich and Grottger (fig. 24), who also studied under Juliusz Kossak, also worked as an illustrator in Vienna for Musentuden, Illustrierte Zeitung, and Polish Magazine Postep.[15]

In view of the fact that the activities of Hotel Lambert included diplomatic operations as a means of keeping the Polish question alive in European politics, it is interesting that Brandt became ‘a popular and appreciated figure at the Bavarian court’ and Grottger was also supported by a Bavarian count, Alexander Pappenheim.[16] Grottger’s patriotic cartoons which were a ‘protest against nations annihilating one another and a condemnation of war as the greatest misfortune of mankind,’ were exhibited in Vienna and London in 1863 as well as at Hotel Lambert in 1867 (fig. 25).[17]

This thesis demonstrates how these artists were inspired by the patriotic themes of Mickiewicz’s literature; their compositions are filled with literary and historical anecdote.[18] In this way, ‘Mickiewicz’s poetry became a kind of ‘secret code’ which united the homeland and those in exile.’[19] Moreover, ‘Polish politics took refuge in the metaphors of the poets’ and in turn in the allegories of these artists. Through an iconographic study of the image of the knight on horseback, these ‘secret codes’ may finally be revealed.[20]

[1] ibid, p. 70.

[2] Davies, N. The heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 204; Malczewski’s themes derived from the Bible, folk tales and Romantic literature, particularly the poetry of Juliusz Slowacki, Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 148.

[3] Micke-Broniack, E. Jan Matejko, The National Museum in Warsaw, 2004, URL: www.culture.pl/en/culture/artykuly/os_matejko_jan

[4] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 16.

[5] Matejko published an illustrated album of Polish costumes (Costumes in Poland 1860 to 1795), which reflected his interest in history and his desire to stimulate this interest and patriotism in Polish people, Grove Dictionary of Art online, Artist Biographies, Jan Matejko, URL: http://www.artnet.com/

[6] Micke-Broniack, E. loc. cit.

[7]Matejko was a member of the Learned Society in Cracow, Academie des Beaux-Arts in Paris, Institut in France, Berliner Kunstakademie and the Raphael Academy in Urbino. His huge canvases were exhibited in his lifetime and earned him gold medals in Paris Salons. His works were also exhibited in Vienna, Prague, Budapest, Dresden, Berlin, Munich, London, Brussels, Rome, Saint Petersburg and Chicago, Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 84.

[8] Batorska, D. ‘The Political Censorship of Jan Matejko,’ in Art Journal, vol. 51, No. 1, 1992, p. 60.

[9] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 16.

[10] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 250.

[11] Polish artists living in Cracow such as Matejko and Juliusz Kossak (from 1868-1899) were Austrain subjects and were able to travel on Austrian passports without having to obtain visas or travel permits, Facos, M. & Hirsch, S. Art, Culture and National Identity in Fin-de-Siecle Europe, Cambridge University Press, 2003, p. 66.

[12] Brandt went to Paris in 1858 as protégé of Count Adam Zamoyski. The aristocratic Zamoyski and Czartoryski families were known in Poland as The Familia and played a vital role in assuring Stanislaus Augustus Poniatiowski’s ascension to the throne in 1764.

[13] Gierymski was an artist in exile, having taken part in the January Uprising as a Partisan, Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 17.

[14] Morawinska, A. ibid.

[15] ibid, p. 80.

[16] Brandt received many distinctions including a gold medal first class at the Munich International exhibition in 1869; the order of Francis Joseph; Grand Gold medal at the International Art Exhibition in Berlin in 1891 and the Bavarian Order of Maxmillian in 1898; ibid, p. 98; ibid, p. 80.

[17] ibid; Grottger’s patriotic cartoons were eventually published in book form in Vienna by F. Bondy.

[18] Juliusz Kossak, for example, illustrated works by Adam Mickiewicz.

[19] Mills, C. (ed), Adam Mickiewicz 1798-1855 Selected Poems, The Noonday Press, New York, 1956, p. 60.

[20] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 154.

The Battle of Grunwald by Jan Matejko

If Mickiewicz was considered to be Poland’s spiritual leader and his writings ‘provided inspiration to Polish people despite the realities of their age-old struggle,’ it is logical, then, to examine further Mickiewicz’s writings.[1] In general terms, his verse abounds in biblical prose and patriotic sentiment. Of particular note is the poem Konrad Wallenrod which was written in 1825. The key figure in this poem is a Polish Knight who is involved in the Polish/Lithuanian conflict against the Teutonic Order at the turn of the 15th C.

In considering the idea that artists were to take up the artistic mission created by Adam Mickiewicz and the intellectual circle in Paris, then the Battle of Grunwald by Jan Matejko, 1878 (cat. 2)[2], provides reliable evidence of such collaboration. Matekjo vividly illustrates the crusade in which Mickiewicz’s hero took part. In further establishing the link between the Romantic literature and the art, the lines of Mickiewicz’s poem Ode To Youth appear to resonate through this artwork (Appendix G). Fagin describes this poem as ‘a call for courage and sacrifice, for selfless dedication to the common cause, a promise for victory.’[3]

Matejko uses the techniques of the Baroque style to powerfully convey the struggle of the Polish and Lithuanian forces against the Teutonic Order at the Battle of Grunwald in 1410. As the Baroque style is intrinsically linked to the Counter-Reformation movement with its agenda of religious reform, the viewer becomes conscious that this battle is imbued with spiritual significance, as was the struggle of the Insurrectionists in the nineteenth century.

The canvas may be divided vertically into three layers, (fig. 26), each with its own particular connotation. The bottom layer reveals a chaotic disarray of tangled bodies, those who have fallen in battle. Three figures are brought into relief and therefore stand out in the middle layer. Placed centrally is the Polish King Jagiello in a red tunic. In one outstretched arm he raises his sword and in the other, he raises his fist to signal victory. His horse appears to ride straight towards the viewer. To his right, the Grand Master Ulrik von Jungingen in white is being attacked with a spear by a hooded figure that rises from the tangled mass of bodies below. To the left of the Polish King Jagiello, the famous Polish knight and folk hero Zawisza Czarny, the Black Knight, defends the left flank. The positioning of these figures is reminiscent of the description of the Last Judgement.[4] A heavenly light emanates from the top layer of the artwork and a haloed figure can be seen praying upon a cloud. Raised lances pointing up to this holy figure and the Polish flag also fill the upper layer.

If one considers the artwork in three layers, the lines from Mickiewicz’s poem thus offer a possible context for interpretation. The idea of ‘rising above the dead world’ as represented by the bottom layer into the top layer, the ‘Paradise of dreams where ardour (or prayer) creates miracles…and weaves hope into golden images’ appears to be vividly illustrated in the imagery. The last line of the poem, ‘a thunderbolt is thy arm’ may be thus depicted by the steel sword raised to the heavens held by the central figure. Moreover, the line, ‘In common happiness are the aims of all, strong in unity…together we stand,’ could also refer to the central figure of King Jagiello who united the Polish and Lithuanian states. Indeed, the Polish historian Charles Szajnocha reconstructed the Jagiellonian era with the aim to revive memories so different from the present time. Furthermore, there is a historical view that Poland was also at her strongest when united under a central rule. As Mickiewicz’ poetry was censored in occupied Poland, including his tale of Konrad Wallenrod, one can understand that the artwork was thus used in such a way to circulate the messages from the poetry that was often secreted and read covertly under fear of imprisonment.[5]

Davies assertion that Poles had to learn to decipher a new mode of veiled expression where hints, oblique references, allegories and omissions spoke louder than superficial content[6] provides further insight into the imagery and also a possible connection to the meaning of the middle verse of Mickiewicz’ poem, in particular the lines: ‘The one who fell is happy too For, by his sacrifice He helped attain his country’s fame.’ In comparing Matejko’s stylistic techniques to other artworks from the Baroque Era, the ‘terrifying melange of twisted human bodies and horses’ is reminiscent of the fifth painting in the Decius Mus Cycle by Peter Paul Rubens, (fig. 27).[7] The fifth painting in the cycle, entitled The Death of Decius Muse depicts the self-sacrifice of Decius Mus at the Battle of Veseris in 340BC. According to legend, Decius Mus made a pact with the Gods of the Underworld in return for Roman victory. He receives the enemy’s mortal blow and is dragged down into the abyss. In a stunning visual reference to this ancient legend, the image of Grand Master Ulrick in Matejko’s painting appears to be a mirror image of Decius Mus upon his steed. In fact in Matejko’s painting a hooded figure, seen on the viewer’s left (fig. 28, detail) seems to rise from the very underworld referred to in the legend and in Mickiewicz’ poem.

In considering that the climate of political suppression taught the people to read political meaning into the most innocent material, the imagery may be understood in a play on opposites and connotations, (figs. 29 & 30). [8] In light of the fact that a third of Poland belonged to Prussia, this painting very diplomatically presents the Polish defeat over the Teutonic order at Grunwald in which the vanquished leader is linked to an earlier image by the diplomat artist Rubens, which is also connected to notions of self-sacrifice in spite of the fact that a pact was made with the Underworld. In further considering the play on opposites, it should be noted that self-sacrifice was a key component of Polish Messianic philosophy. Interestingly, Matejko painted Grunwald in response to the rising wave of the Germanization of Poles in the territories annexed by Prussia. Morawinska’s assertion that Matejko viewed history as a drama or fight of opposing forces also supports this interpretation that is understood through the play of opposites.[9] In addition, one can understand how historicism was used by Polish philosophers as a means of understanding and commenting upon the present. Apart from reviving memories of the Jagiellonian Era, the visual reference to the ancient Roman legend of Consul Decius Mus also provides insight into the Polish attitude to the cult of antiquity which was strong in German theories of art. According to Morawski, Poles identified Rome with the despotic culture forced upon them in the nineteenth century and therefore the cult of antiquity was very weak in Poland and the return to the Middle Ages much stronger.[10] Hence, the next stage of my analysis focuses on how another element of the National Cultural Program, chivalric idealism is expressed in the artwork.

In considering how the instigators of the National Program valued historicism as a means of raising the awareness of Poles and educating them by linking history to the current political situation, the chivalric connotations of the historical event depicted in the artwork are significant. The painting captures the triumph of the Polish and Lithuanian knights over the Teutonic Order, who were being castigated for their unchivalrous conduct in the pursuit of their conquests. According to the Polish hierarchy the Teutonic Order ‘had taken no account of a just war, established by Christian traditions.’[11] Indeed, Matejko’s visual reference to the Decius Mus cycle by Rubens provides interesting reflection as to what constitutes a just war. Whilst the act of Decius Mus may be regarded by some as self-sacrificing, ultimately it does not override the fact that he made a pact with the Gods of the Underworld and must therefore meet his fate. In the same way the Teutonic Order lost credibility following their defeat at Grunwald, as the Polish nobility set a new standard of chivalric honour.[12] Indeed, in 1525 the Teutonic Order was secularized and disbanded.

Moreover, the visual reference to the pre-Christian myth throws interesting light on certain historical viewpoints on the secular nature of chivalry as explained by Maurice Keen. Keen links chivalry to the practices of a pre-Christian past that was adopted by Teutonic peoples. This concept of chivalry regards fame as the highest award of the Teutonic warrior gained through physical prowess.[13] One can argue that the evolution or opposite view to this concept is one whereby the chivalrous code is inspired by the ‘ideals that men tried to live by such as honour, dedication to justice and the protest against war’s brutalities as embodied in the Peace of God.’[14] In further considering the conceptual parallels to the current political situation in Poland, Matejko clearly places the contemporary struggle in the realm of Christian and therefore Messianic piety. Furthermore, in considering the lessons from history Gies asserts that the mystique of chivalry was rebuffed by Renaissance Humanism[15] and thus the Baroque treatment of the subject matter could further support the Baroque reaction to such secular Humanist ideals.

The weaponry of the chivalrous feature strongly in the artwork and a consideration of the moral-religious significance attached to these weapons also provides insight into the nature of chivalry and perhaps the didactic intent of the artwork. The sword held by King Jagiello, which is in the form of a cross, is to combat the enemies of Christianity and maintain justice, whilst the spears which are visible behind Jagiello’s raised sword represent truth.[16] These spears point to a heavenly figure upon the cloud who presides over the scene of conflict. Moreover, the layering effect of the image also provides associations to the order of words on the Polish standard – God, Country (linked with the flag) and Honour (connected with the truth of the spear). In a similar way, the three distinct levels on the canvas allows the viewer to visualize the mysticism of chivalry as per the writings of the poet Juliusz Slowacki.[17] His concept of spiritual evolutionism and divine beings belonging to a hierarchal class who rise to evoke the spirit of the ancient Polish nobility in times of chaos and unrest is clearly perceptible in the artwork.In this way, in establishing the connection between Romantic poetry and the image of the knight on horseback in Matejko’s artwork, visual analysis has confirmed that Polish culture and the ideals of this time, that were strongly expressed in the nation’s literature, was not only exercised through the written word, ‘it also saw the birth of a style of Polish painting.’[18] Whilst social and civic responsibility fell upon Polish writers were called upon to serve as their nation’s second government, ‘art and philosophy were also drawn into the subject of Polish independence and liberation.'

[1] Fagin, H. ‘Adam Mickiewicz: Poland’s National Romantic Poet’ in South Atlantic Bulletin, vol. 42, no. 4, p. 104.

[2] Jan Matejko, The Battle of Grunwald, 1878, oil on canvas, 426 x 987 cm, National Museum, Warsaw.

[3] Fagin, H. op. cit.

[4] Matthew 25:31-46.

[5] My Great- Great Grandfather spent time in jail for possessing a book of Mickiewicz’ poetry.

[6] Davies, N. Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 186.

[7] Tapestry in the Baroque: Threads of Splendour, The Metropolitan Museum of Art Oct. 2007 – Jan. 2008, online, accessed 26/2/09,file:///E:/www.thecityreview.com

[8] According to Halls, a judgment scene may be reference to good or bad government. Good government may be personified by Jagiello, where the symbol of authority becomes his sword; a background scene of warfare however, indicates bad government.

[9] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 16.

[10] Morawski, S. op. cit. p. 224.

[11] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 70.

[12] ibid, p. 77.

[13] Keen, M. Chivalry, Yale University Press, London, 1984, p.54.

[14] Gies, F. op. cit. p. 204.

[15] ibid, p. 198.

[16] ibid, p. 105

[17] Walicki, A. op. cit. p. 283.

[18] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 249.

The Imagery of King John III Sobieski

The imagery of the Knight-King John Sobieski that was revived by nineteenth-century artists raises some intriguing questions into the very nature of the ideology of Romantic Polish Messianism and its underlying themes of heroism, salvation and freedom. In considering the aims of the National Cultural Programme, most certainly, the folk hero Sobieski would have stirred feelings of patriotism and he was considered a brave knight and man of piety. The national aim of imbuing images of the past with a didactic purpose such as the universal learnings from history is also powerfully realized in these nineteenth-century depictions. Though Sobieski was once hailed as the Saviour of Europe and indeed Austria from Turkish invasion in The Battle of Vienna in 1683, there is some irony to these artworks, as Poland was, at the time of these paintings under Austrian subjugation. Though Sobieski was once honoured for orchestrating the Turkish defeat, the nineteenth-century interpretation may very well reflect a facet of Romantic disillusionment as an allegorical reference to the tragic fall of the hero figure and therefore symbolic of Poland’s plight. Although these paintings utilize the history painting genre in the Romantic sense, whereby history becomes merged with reportage and the ideal and allegorical becomes merged with the contemporary, the irony of the original function of the history painting genre is not misplaced. According to Halecki part of Poland’s subversive tactic was to convey that a nation could still survive the destruction of her state, and therefore to revive the genre whose function it is to glorify those in power and celebrate their rule and the states they led is an adroit ploy. On the one hand, these paintings fulfil an instructive purpose and thus inspire the virtues of heroic sacrifice, national unity and patriotic zeal. On the other hand, in considering art as the political voice of the nation, one needs to delve deeper into the iconography in order to reveal the partisan rebuttal by Polish artists.

In further identifying the elements of the National Program in mid to late nineteenth- century artworks and in thus considering its quintessence, I have initially compared the nineteenth-century depictions of King John III Sobieski’s campaign in Vienna to those created in the late Baroque Era, (figs. 8-11). There are two striking differences apparent when considering the Baroque artworks against those created by the nineteenth-century artists. Baroque depictions of the Battle of Vienna are virtually non-existent by Polish artists. According to Morawinska, there was a lack of paintings dealings with the history of Poland and it wasn’t until the reign of Stanislaus Augustus (1764-1795) that the history painting genre was formally introduced to Polish Art.[1] In my search for artworks depicting the Battle of Vienna, I could only locate those painted by foreign artists, mainly of Dutch or Italian background. In considering that the Baroque Era was coloured by the Counter-Reformation Movement, it is assumed that the European defeat of the Turks would hold some dutiful significance for these countries. Furthermore, in keeping with the Baroque conviction of the collective over the individual the late seventeenth-century battle scene imagery is an ornate and detailed perplexity of horses and soldiers intertwined in combat.

In contrast, the nineteenth-century artworks focus more on the individual figure and in keeping with the emphasis on Messianic philosophy, the image of the knight, who epitomises self-sacrifice and distinctive bravery, which comes to the fore. In an interesting analogy, the Polish Baroque artworks which refer to Sobieski belong to the portraiture genre. One such painting by court painter Jerzy Eleuter Szymonowicz-Siemignowski, (fig. 12), shows King Sobieski, the warrior in full armour seated upon his white steed. This portrait lays testament to the knightly culture inherent in Polish history. In this way the nineteenth-century paintings embody the theories of the contributors to National Cultural Program who used the past, whether it be literature or folklore to prompt action in the present.

Reviving the imagery of the Vienna campaign during the time of the partitions is certainly a controversial act and the three paintings that I have selected to analyse provide a fascinating insight into the political and social role that these artworks played.

[1] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 11

John Sobieski III Departing from Wilanow by Jozef Brandt

Whilst the Grunwald painting is best understood through the play of opposites, the significance of Brandt’s image of John III Sobieski Departing from Wilanow, 1897(cat. 5),[1] is revealed by discerning what is absent. In considering that Poles had to read meaning into the most innocent of material where omissions spoke louder than words, the impact of this ostensible historical image, created at the turn of the century is immense. By engaging with the imagery, this artwork plays extraordinarily upon mind and memory. The painting fulfils the role of using Poland’s history as a means of understanding the present, which was the intent of the Hotel Lambert. The figures from the past look outwards and directly confront the viewer who is compelled to connect with the painting’s interpretation. The vast size of the canvas would also have great bearing on the viewer’s engagement. The immense backdrop to this scene, the Wilanow Palace was built like a miniature Versailles by the Italian architect Agostino Lotti and is regarded as one of the most precious monuments of Polish National culture. In 1799, Wilanow was opened as one of Poland’s earliest museums dedicated to the country’s former glory in the time before the Partitions.[2]

The artwork expresses an international flavour as Brandt uses strong elements of Romantic Exoticism to appeal to the fashionable Orientalism revival of the time. Indeed, whilst Sobieski had many an encounter with the Turks and Tartars on the battlefield, ‘no-one was more experienced or fascinated by the ways of the East than he.’[3] Unlike the current vanquishers of Poland who wished to suppress Polish culture, Sobieski was inspired by many aspects of Eastern culture and its influence was seen in the dress and manners of the day; ‘Tartar haircuts and Persian rugs were part of the equipment of any respecting nobleman.’[4] In this way, contemporary comment could be camouflaged in the exotic settings of the past.

This history painting is an obvious celebration of state and commemorates the sumptuous magnificence of Sobieski’s court. The power of the Polish realm is further emphasised by the visual reference to his armed cavalry whose numbers were enlarged during his reign. However, when this artwork was created the Polish state did not exist, nor did the Polish military forces. Nevertheless, Polish partisanship strongly upheld the view that the nation could survive the destruction of the all powerful oppressive regime. Indeed, Ascherson affirms that Poles to this day make a clear distinction between nation and state.[5] Though Poland in the nineteenth century was indeed ‘nonexistent’ and did not appear on the European map, the intrinsic implication is that the nation of people could still continue to exist. It is interesting to note that the artist often signed his pictures ‘Josef Brandt of Warsaw’ to stress his nationality.

Furthermore, Davies avows that John III Sobieski himself belonged to a class that mistrusted the growth of state power and counted more on the loyalty and generosity of wealthy noblemen to contribute to the national cause. In this way, Sobieski ‘was able to inspire the nation to rise to unparalleled efforts in short bursts.’[6] One can infer that there may indeed be an underlying appeal to Poland’s French ally in Revolution. Certainly, ‘the flame’ features prominently in this artwork. The presence of Sobieski’s French-born wife sitting side by side in the horse-drawn carriage is indeed provocative. Though it is assumed that this painting depicts the departure of Sobieski for a military campaign the fact that his wife rides with him may, on the one hand, be a metaphor for romantic chivalry where the feminine ideal is the source of inspiration and comfort during long absences. On the other hand, the image of Marie-Casimire de la Grange d’Arquien may serve to remind the viewer of Poland’s ties with France – through the intermarriages, the shared ideals from the Enlightenment and Revolutionary eras as well as the French language being the chosen form of polite communication between the great Polish aristocrats. Ever since his marriage, Sobieski was closely associated with the French party at court.[7] John Sobieski’s letters to his wife were widely published by this time and so there may very well be a coded form of communication underlying this painting.

The clue to a feasible interpretation of this artwork’s proposition may lie in the tracks in the snow that are clearly visible in the central foreground of the painting. After the January Uprising of 1863, the Russians built a railway line directly from the palace to Warsaw. There is a strong transport theme in this painting. In what may be construed as a direct rebuke to Poland’s proud aristocratic heritage and indeed King John II Sobieski himself who was ‘only’ an elected king, the railway from the king’s residence served the transportation of agriculture and peasantry. When confronted with Brandt’s sumptuous image of the palace in its heyday, one can only wonder about the destructiveness of industrialisation. Though the markings of the tracks are visible, the discernment of what is absent again comes into play. Whilst Realist paintings in France such as those by Manet and Caillebotte feature the railway as a sign of modernity, the idea that these rail tracks are alluded to in Brandt’s painting raises some questions. Could the artist be indicating that industrial progress in Poland was being hindered by the Partitioning powers? Furthermore, though Wilanow was the king’s summer residence, there is snow on the ground and the only tree, on the viewer’s left, is bare. Bitter frosts and deep snow in winter could often lead to unpredictable harvest, where ‘feasting in abundance one year could be followed by famine in the next.’[8] With this in mind one wonders how much grain was in fact transported along this line.

In actual fact, railways largely contributed to more efficient mobilisation of armed forces and considering that this principally constitutes the theme of Brandt’s historical artwork, this association to the transport of armies provides another interesting facet to my interpretation. There may be reference to the Polish need for international assistance into the country, perhaps made easier had the railway system been put to better use. Furthermore, in taking into account Poland’s military ties to France perhaps this painting is suggesting that had Poland’s army still been intact she would have honoured her alliances and aided the French in her war against her common enemy the Prussians. In considering the aim of the National Programme that wished to impart understanding of the correlation of historical events and their common relationships, one may associate the conditions of the siege of Paris in 1971 with the Siege of Vienna in 1863, where the city was subjected to starvation tactics until Sobieski was able to intercede. In further considering this idea in relation to this image of the past, Davies submits that the Great Hetman Sobieski firmly believed that military action was the chief and proper means was indeed the proper means of asserting the honour and integrity of the ‘state’.[9]

In reality, it is the lack of military intervention that contradicts the imagery in the artwork. Unfortunately, occupied Poland’s plight could have been relieved had there been proper French military intercession. This was the hope of Prince Adam Czartoryski whose family did at one stage own Wilanow Palace. In the first half of the nineteenth-century century France had given much moral support to the Polish cause but by the turn of the century, the ‘trend in Europe seemed to be towards consolidation into a few supranational powers in which the aspirations of small suppressed nationalities would become anachronisms.’[10] Therefore, this artwork created on the cusp of the neo-Romantic revival in Poland may be a comment on the absence of French support and a certain lack of loyalty, especially given that ‘Polish enthusiasm for Napoleon had always been qualified, and his abandonment of the cause of liberation had further diminished it.’[11] In contrast, in considering chivalric ideal, the idea of military allegiance is strongly emphasised in this artwork. In particular, the soldier on the viewer’s right raises his sword in salute to his sovereign. Sobieski ended his days at Wilanow Palace much disillusioned by the attitudes of foreign powers. According to Halecki his ‘victory’ of 1683 in Vienna is viewed by some historians as an act of useless generosity since it served the state which 100 years later shared in the Partitions. However, others see the moral bearing of this act to have lasting value.[12] In a similar way, the Poles truly believed that by serving Napoleon and by taking up the code of honour and sacrifice that the fight for Polish Independence would also be won. It is interesting to note that the inscription on Sobieski’s family vault at Zolkiew, O quam dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, translates as, ‘Oh how sweet and proper to die for the country.’[13]

An analysis of this painting reveals that ‘Sobieski has become a symbolic memory whose value increases with the misfortunes which were again to fall upon Polish soil.’[14] Whilst Morawinska maintains that ‘Brandt’s sense of history was of a different order compared to Matejko’s version of the past so seeped in pathos’[15]in the case of this artwork, I am of a different view. Though the imagery initially encourages the viewer to embark on a journey of Romantic escapism, one cannot elude the underlying sense of tragedy and the reality of the historical circumstances with their connection to the current time. And whilst the love affair between Sobieski and Marie-Casimire, affectionately known as Marysinka was indeed a remarkable partnership, she being the inspiration of his prowess, the infatuation with her native France may have, by the time of this painting, also vanished.

[1] Jozef Brandt, John III Sobieski Departing from Wilanow, 1897, oil on canvas, 186 x 343 cm, Wilanow Palace Museum.

[2] Kaczorowski, B., Opoka, A., Pierscinski, P. & Tarasow, S. (eds). The Monuments of Polish Architecture, WSiP, Warsaw, 1998, p.382.

[3] Davies, N. The Devils’ Playground, Vol. 1. P. 477

[4] ibid

[5] Asherson, N. op. cit. p. 4

[6] Davies, N. Devil’s Playground, vol. I, op. cit. p. 478.

[7] Davies, N. ibid

[8] Asherson, N. The Struggles for Poland, p. 4

[9]

[10] Asherson, N. p. 15

[11] Zamoyski, A. Holy Madness: Romantics, Patriots and Revolutionaries 1776-1871, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London, 1999, p. 199.

[12] Halecki, O. p. 167

[13] Davies, N. Devil’s Playground, Vol. 1, p. 477

[14] Halecki, O., ibid

[15] Morawinska, A. Watching for the Dawn of Freedom, p. 17

John III Entering Vienna by Juliusz Kossak

In further establishing the connection between the Messianic concepts of Mickiewicz’s spiritual prose and the aims of the national programme in the artworks, this painting by Juliusz Kossak, John III Entering Vienna, 1883 (cat. 3)[1], abounds in religious allegory. Kossak takes the historical and political circumstances surrounding King John III Sobieski to illustrate the themes from Christianity and the Old Testament such as suffering, resurrection and salvation that appear in Mickiewicz’s poetry. His promotion of spiritual principles as the answer to Poland’s suffering is personified in the image of Sobieski – the Knight-King who is historically known for his role as 'the defender of Christendom,' the Saviour of Vienna and a man of great moral conviction.[2]

Certainly, the image of Sobieski as a saviour is vividly described in the artwork, with the beholden citizens falling to their knees before his horse. In a letter to his wife, Sobieski describes the scene, ‘I was called their saviour, and common people kissed my hands and feet.’[3] In allegorical terms, the image is evocative of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem as celebrated in the Christian calendar on Palm Sunday.[4] The numerous flags raised into the air are analogous to the palms that were waived in Jesus’ honour. The Turkish flag prominently displayed in the foreground further emphasises the religious associations and also allows for the allegorical intent to be camouflaged in the colourful setting of a distant place and ancient time.

The historical circumstances following Sobieski’s triumphant entry into Vienna as its ‘knight in shining armour’ presents another parallel to the association with Palm Sunday and the events leading up to Jesus’ betrayal and crucifixion. Like the Roman Pharisees, many officers looked on Sobieski’s procession with disapproval.[5] Furthermore, some historians regard Sobieski’s involvement as a foolish act of chivalry which set the course for Poland becoming a pawn in the power play of European politics.[6] Consequently, the message of self-sacrifice resonates very strongly in the Sobieski imagery.

In further comparing the nineteenth-century depictions to those of the Baroque Era, it appears that the artists have chosen scenes or episodes from Poland’s last great military feat before she disappeared and presented its moral lesson in parabolic form. The painting by Kossak does seem to convey a hidden and yet at the same time confronting message of salvation, sacrifice and crucifixion on a political level as well as on a spiritual plane. Yet, the message of redemption is confirmed in the revival of the legend of a king who heroically fought for a unified Christendom. Just as Mickiewicz had reawakened the memory of Sobieski in his poem, The Death of Heroes:

So many recollections meet me here, in your house, in your school
… in the meadows we played at hare and hounds.
I played there often at evening or before the dawn,
To visit Homer and speak with Tasso,
Or admire John Sobieski’s triumph at Vienna.[7]
The artists of the nineteenth-century also paint his image that is laden with powerful moral and political connotation.

  

[1] Juliusz Kossak, John III Entering Vienna, 1883, watercolour on paper, 48 x 70.5cm, National Museum, Warsaw.

[2] Morton, J. B. Sobieski: King of Poland, Eyre & Spottiswood, London, 1932, p. vii.

[3] Davies, N. The Devil’s Playground, vol. 1, op. cit. p. 485.

[4] John 12:12-16.

[5] Davies, N. loc. cit.

[6] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 171.

[7] Mills, C. (ed) op. cit. p. 79.

The Meeting of King John III Sobieski with Emperor Leopold I Near Schwechat by Artur Grottger 

Grottger's Work of Art Explained

This nineteenth century painting by Artur Grottger, The Meeting of King John III Sobieski with Emperor Leopold I near Schwechat, 1859 (cat. 4)[1], illustrates the historical meeting of two rulers from the Baroque era, principally conveyed through the style of dress. In fact it is through a close examination of the details on clothing that the intrinsic meaning and significance of this artwork upon national consciousness is fully realised.

I. Pre-Iconographic Reading

In further reference to Baroque ‘devices’, there is a conspicuous difference between dark and light areas within the image. Mysterious grey clouds encompass the sky on one side of the canvas whilst on the viewer’s right-hand side the clouds are white and the sky is blue. In this way, the image is visually split in half and the division between the two sides is emphasised. The subjects of the painting are on horseback and face each other from each side of the painting in a tableau that suggests confrontation. The horse on the viewer’s left emerges from under the shadow of the dark clouds to become the central focus –its foreleg raised in a proud gesture of defiance. The red pants of its rider also catch the eye. The white horse on the opposite side bows its head in acquiescence.

The two leaders are flanked by their army and envoys. Whilst only seven men on horseback encircle the leader astride the white horse on the viewer’s right, the numbers behind the leader on the left hand side are greater. A legion of men or a line of warriors stretches back into the distance, where the silhouettes of flags or heraldic emblems can be seen held aloft. The fighting men on this side of the composition are further distinguished by their brightly coloured uniforms – the representatives of various ranks such as hetman, chasseur in armour and winged hussar are all denoted. These main characters appear cartoonish and there is almost a superimposition of the figures against each other. In a small central gap between the heads of the rival horses a city surrounded by mountains can be seen in the background.

II. Level of Convention and Precedent

A collection of letters written by Sobieski to his wife which were discovered in 1823 provides insight into this meeting near Schwechat. Historian J. B. Morton also provides detail of this famous meeting.[2]

Following his triumph in Vienna, Sobieski quickly mobilized his army in preparation for his next liberation campaign into Hungary. He wished to take no part in post-battle political manoeuvrers. Sobieski was also sensitive to an increasing ‘coldness’ from various Imperial Officers who were preoccupied with the allocation of the booty and spoils of war. Though Sobieski wished to join his advance guard who were harrying the retreating Turks, he remained on the outskirts of Vienna in view of the fact that Emperor Leopold had requested a meeting. Records indicate that Leopold was at first hesitant to meet with the elected king of Poland who he considered an inferior. Lorraine managed to convince him that keeping on good terms with the ‘Saviour of the Empire’ was perhaps advisable especially if the Turkish threat was to resurface.[3]

In an amusing letter to his Queen, Sobieski describes the actual meeting at Schweschat outside Vienna. An excerpt from this document[4] is thus transcribed:

Having sent a standard of the Vizier via the Vice Chancellor as a token of victory, Sobieski is advised by an envoy that he should request an audience with the Emperor in writing. Having penned such a request, the envoy pays another visit to Sobieski to express the Emperor’s concerns with the ceremonial for the right of hand (as his concern was with his state of claim to the Empire). As a solution, Sobieski proposes that the Emperor and he meet near his camp and salute each other from their horses. Sobieski would be accompanied by his son, generals and senators and Leopold by his Electors.

In actuality, though Leopold had given the impression that he was surrounded by his electors and was therefore the true representative of the Empire, only one Elector, the King of Bavaria accompanied him to the meeting. The rest of his assemblage included nobles and employees of the court. Preceded by trumpeters, Sobieski describes the Emperor sitting astride his Spanish bay horse. Leopold is finely dressed in a richly embroidered coat, a French hat with a plume of red and white, a belt mounted with sapphires and diamonds and a similarly ornamented sword.

The monarchs exchange some words in Latin. Sobieski’s son is presented to Leopold who completely ignores his salute. Sobieski speaks further with the utmost diplomacy and the formalities are concluded. In his letter, King Sobieski describes his disillusionment with those who fawned upon him when help was needed and yet showed such ingratitude and ill treatment. Food supplies to the Polish army were ceased and Polish horses were stolen. Nevertheless, Sobieski writes that his strong sense of duty is what caused him to see the campaign completed.

III. Intrinsic Meaning and Relationship to the Wider Context

In recreating this meeting, Grottger is able to condemn the snobbery, elitism and greed of certain European leaders following the Battle of Vienna and thus also comments on the existing political situation of Partitioned Poland on many levels.

The vibrant clothing of the figures in the painting may be a reference to the flamboyant colours that were associated with folk and popular culture. These gaudy hues were often viewed with distain by the upper classes and yet Sobieski’s description of Emperor Leopold’s attire evokes an ostentatious image. Just as Sobieski was ostracised by the Imperial Officers on the basis of his status as an elected king, the cartoon-like imagery shows a clear siding with ‘the masses’ rather than the ruling classes and establishes Sobieski’s significance as a folk hero. In a similar way the brightly coloured garb of the peasantry in Gustave Courbet’s Funeral at Ornans, 1848, which was deliberately intended to offend the sensibilities of the Official Art Academies, perhaps Grottger intends a veiled associative reference to the rudeness of the greedy European politicians and their treatment of the once powerful Polish state. In this way, Grottger’s painting champions Courbet’s ‘Manifesto of Realism’ (1855) and becomes an engine of the Revolution in its support for democracy and socialist ideals. In fact Grottger created a series of widely distributed cartoons connected to the events of the 1863 January Uprising.[5] An image from the Warsaw I cycle, 1861, (fig. 13) depicts peasant and nobility marching side by side for the common cause. A second image from Warsaw I, (fig. 14), depicts further the ‘underdog’, the Jews of Poland who were persecuted under the Russian dictatorship and whose rights to freedom under the Polish Constitution were abolished.

Though the scene of the meeting between Sobieski and Leopold may reinforce feelings of outrage, Grottger treats the scene with subtle humour. With its sarcastic remark at the prejudice of the class system the imagery would not only have appealed to popular culture but also to the Revolutionary mindset of the French abroad. This was indeed the intent of the Polish intellectual circles in Paris – widespread reception and intellectual recognition for the cause. Furthermore, by painting the scene with all its political ramifications in the guise of a history painting, Grottger is able to powerfully express the plight of modern Poland, despite heavy censorship restrictions.

Messianic elements involve the resurrection of the hero King John III Sobieski and his reputation as a saviour in a holy war. Furthermore, one is forced to reflect upon the true nature of chivalry, for it was through brave acts and deeds that the chivalrous were eventually admired. Indeed, Sobieski, a Great Hetman was elected King on the prowess of his military skill and achievement and this legacy is indeed one of encouragement for all Poles, regardless of class, who were fighting so bravely for the cause. The use of popular imagery also highlights the recognition of the Poles who became the symbols of freedom across Europe.

The long line of warriors behind Sobieski in the artwork may also be reference to the established heritage of chivalrous culture in Poland which once boasted the highest numbers of aristocratic classes than anywhere else in Europe. Once again, the particular attention given to the attire of the Poles in the painting may be in retaliation to the German princes who showed open astonishment at the rich clothing and trappings of the Polish nobility (as was described in Sobieski’s letters). Furthermore, in illustrating an aspect of Messianic philosophy, the past is used as a means of understanding the present. The appearance of warriors emerging from the mist in various fighting guise, adds to the element of myth and legend that the creators of the National Programme drew upon.

[1] Artur Grottger, The Meeting of King John III Sobieski with Emperor Leopold I near Schwechat, 1859, oil on canvas, 101 x 157 cm, Lviv Art Gallery, Ukraine.
[2] Morton, J. B. Sobieski: King of Poland, Eyre and Spottiswood, London, 1932, p. 207
[3] Ibid, p. 208
[4] ibid, pp. 208-210
[5] Artur Grottger, Artist Biographies, The Grove Dictionary of Art, The Artworld Online, New York, 2009, URL:http;//www.artnet.com/library/03/035108.asp

The Layers of Meaning in Polish 19th Century Art

The imagery of the following work of art offers some reflection upon the historical circumstances and ensuing ideologies that indeed ‘conditioned the rhythm and development of Polish art as well as its characteristics and limits.’[1] The first painting by Wojchiech Kossak (cat. 10),[2] recaptures the events of the November Uprising of 1830. The severe penalties imposed upon the Polish nation following this Insurrection resulted in the mass emigration of Poland’s leading intellectuals to Paris where they were better able to address the Polish question and thus create the National Programme for Polish artists who could continue to fight for the Polish cause armed with brush and palette.

Clash with a Russian Patrol on the Lazienki Bridge and November Night, 1898 by Wojchiech Kossak (pictured above).

This battle scene, depicted over two canvases, Clash with a Russian Patrol on the Lazienki Bridge, November Night, 1898 (cat. 10) is set on an arched bridge that spans across a deep waterway. A fiery red sky is reflected in the water and the background forest is encompassed in a mist or smoky haze. A marble monument on the bridge provides the central focal point. A knight on horseback sits astride his horse that is reared up on hind leg. This commanding action stance of horse and rider is vibrantly captured in the marble tribute. The warrior’s sword is drawn and points the way forwards. Advancing in the direction of his sword are a group figures on foot bearing arms. Some wear the uniforms of cadets whilst an older gentleman in a long brown coat raises a fist in the air. An aristocratic figure motioning to others behind him joins a group of uniformed men bringing up the rear. With their bodies propelled in a forward surge, they appear to push back the advance of a force of soldiers on horseback. The second painting shows the progression of this momentum, with the figures on foot reaching the other side of the river bank. Those who are mounted rear backwards. A wounded horse and rider fall to the ground.

Painted at the fin-de-siècle, this painting encapsulates several important chapters in Polish history. Whilst the monument around which the insurrectionary action occurs is that of John III Sobieski, the Lazienki bridge and river location effectively plays upon an historical association and thus brings to mind the legend of another courageous Polish military hero, Prince Jozef Poniatowski, nephew of the last king of Poland and hereditary owner of the Lazienki estate (fig 43).

A General at the head of the Fifth Polish Corps of Napoleon’s Grande Armee, Poniatowski ‘embodied most of the ideals that inspired the Insurrectionists.’[4] At the Battle of the Nations in Leipzig on the 19th October 1813, his company became trapped in a bend of the River Elster, whilst pursued by Prussian and Russian forces, but, ‘there was no question of surrender.’[5] Already wounded during battle, Poniatowski attempted to cross the river on horseback. Whilst mounting the bank on the opposite side, he was shot in the back. Poniatowksi fell into the water and drowned.[6] His death is enveloped in Romantic myth and the image of Poniatowski leaping into the Elster hung in every Patriotic Polish home[7] (fig. 44 & 45).

According to Davies, his legend is often quoted as yet another example of suicidal and pointless Polish courage.[8] With Poniatowksi’s memory being juxtaposed upon Sobieski’s legacy, the artwork becomes a powerful metaphor for bravery and self-sacrifice. In inducing memory of the Napoleonic era, the recollection of a further courageous Polish hero is also recalled, Jan Kozietulski, the champion of Napoleon’s Cheveaux Legers. An additional case in point of individual sacrifice and Polish daring, Kozietulski distinguished himself at the Battle of Somsierra, leading a charge of Polish cavalry in an uphill attack whilst under close fire, as depicted in an artwork by Romantic artist Piotr Michalowski (fig. 46).

The bravery and heroic sacrifice of Kozietulski continued to inspire subsequent generations and he became the symbol of the activist and insurrectionary wing of the Polish Romantic Movement that held sway in Poland from the November Uprising until 1864. Whilst the exponents of Positivism wished to debunk and devalue the valiant act of Kozietulski, his legend was once again seized upon by artists of the neo-Romantic Movement which resurfaced in Polish art at the turn of the century, (fig. 26).[9]

In spite of the Romantic sense of tragedy attached to the legacy of these heroes, the next generation of Poles are depicted fighting for freedom at the foot of the monument during the November Uprising of 1830. As per the historical accounts, visually, this charge against the Russian army is led by the young cadets, who were soon joined by the Moderates (in overcoats) and the members of the aristocracy who in turn called in the support of the Polish army.[10] Though this Uprising was repressed, the legacy of these freedom fighters also resounds across the pages of history. Like Sobieski, Poniatowski and Kozietulski, the devotees of the Insurrection dedicated their lives to fight for liberty at all costs and the nobleness of a higher cause.

In a profound way, this painting conveys a sense of the passing of a legacy from one generation to another. As the waters under the bridge do indeed run deep so too are the layers of meaning in this artwork. Wojchiech Kossak studied drawing with his father Juliusz, whose artwork would habitually depict military figures from Polish history such as 17thC knight Stefan Czarniecki, National Museum, Warsaw (fig. 27). There is no doubt that Juliusz Kossak who ‘so perfectly understood the great Poland of the past’[11] would have laid the foundations for the sense of historicism that prevailed in Polish art theory of the mid- to- late nineteenth century. Indeed, like his father, Wochiech Kossak passes on these lessons from the past in this artwork, informing and educating a new generation of Poles.
The imagery itself also transmits this passing of ideas between generations. The young cadets infused with revolutionary idealism lead an older generation who still held aloft the ethics of the Enlightened Age. In fact this painting seems to capture the moment when the Age of Reason had to give way to the new era of Rebellion. The Classical arches of the bridge seem to be sinking deeper into the river. The symmetrical composition that is associated with Neo-Classicism is upset in the second painting. The forward surge of the revolutionaries upsets the balance of the tableau. Though Sobieski’s statue is of marble, one wonders if this reference to Classicism is bound to be swallowed by the rising tide of revolution as well. Whilst Jan Kozietulski can be regarded as a relic from the Age of Reason with its misguided sense of what constitutes a noble war under Bonaparte the specter of Poniatowski appears to rise from his watery grave to join the unorthodox fight of the revolutionaries.[12]

Nevertheless in considering that this image was created at the end of a tumultuous century there is a sense of reconciling the various ideologies that consumed and influenced Polish culture over the past one hundred years. From the desire for stability and order that the Classical ideal could beget, to Romantic fervor, the imagery unifies both philosophies. As the nineteenth century changes to the twentieth, this artwork conforms to Polish art theory whereby it ‘appreciates the past in a scientific way in order to show progressive and retrogressive traditions’ as well as asking what knowledge can be gained from the past for the present.[13]

This artwork may also signal that just as the Age of Reason had to give way to Romanticism, the main Positivist generation that held the field from the mid 1860s to 1890s was also coming to an end. In a wider sense, the strong reference to Classicism in the imagery may indeed draw attention to the need for a sense of balance when it comes to beliefs and that ongoing dialogue between political movements is fundamental.

[1] Morawinska, A. op. cit. p. 9.

[2] Wojchiech Kossak, Clash With a Russian Patrol on Lazienki Bridge, November Night, 1898, oil on canvas, private collection.

[3] Wojciech Kossak, Wounded Cuirassier Asks Directions, 1908, Museum of Art in Lodz, Poland.

[4] Davies, N. Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 162.

[5] ibid, p. 163.

[6] Zamoyski, A. op. cit. p. 199.

[7] ibid, p. 201.

[8] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 163.

[9] Jerzy Kossak, Battle of Somsierra 30 November 1808, 46 x 54cm, Private Collection.

[10] On the night of November 1830 a military college situated on the Lazienki Estate was the point of departure for a group of conspirators who carried out an assassination attempt on a Russian official, Kaczorowski, B. et al. op. cit. p. 378.

[11] Halecki, O. The History of Poland, op. cit. p. 250.

[12] According to Davies, Poniatowski had no desire to live to serve the Tsar, Davies, N. The Heart of Europe; the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 162.

[13] Morawski, S. op. cit. p. 221.

General Kosciuszko and Ideas of Freedom in Polish Art 

The paintings in this section mark the turning point in Polish ideology. The reprisals following the 1863 Uprising were extremely brutal and harsher than the retributions that were imposed upon the Polish people following the 1830 Insurrection. The partitioning powers began a war against the Polish language itself, forbidding use of it even in private. Systematic executions of those suspected of collusion were also carried out. The severe persecutions had a sobering effect on the Polish nation.

Faced with the impossibility of any sort of resistance… increasing numbers of voices were to be heard recommending a purely realistic policy.

The period following the 1863 Uprising, which lasted for the next 34 years, is one where the Romantic revolutionary spirit seemed truly repressed, the pragmatism of Positivist doctrine appeared to prevail and ‘two generations, the sons and grandsons of the Insurgents, including those who had themselves fought in their first youth, confined themselves to carrying on practical day to day work.’ Whilst on the surface, Poland seemed encased in a shroud of oblivion, disenchantment and ennui; the artworks of this time tell a different story. According to Halecki, during this period of ‘organic work’ – the (Messianic) resurrection of Poland was prepared in the shadows and silence. The selected paintings echo the Realist interest in country life and highlight the reorganisation of Poland’s social structure that occurred during this epoch. Whilst the Insurrections took on a democratic character and aimed to lessen the gaps that existed between the social classes, this programme of social justice could not be realized due to the military defeats. The period of organic work established ‘a closer collaboration between all Poles.’ Many of the aristocracy became impoverished due to the confiscation of their estates and thus formed a new middle class who carried on the democratic ideals of their forbears. Furthermore, with the growing interest in country life the Romantic soul is still very perceptible in these artworks. The Polish countryside, sometimes covered in snow, sometimes in the haze of a warm golden light, becomes the metaphor for life. Indeed, like Wordsworth who had embraced the revolutionary ideal only to see it shattered, the artists discovered in the landscape a mystic spirituality.

To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity.

Morawinska describes the artworks of this time as Realism tinged with romantic tradition and a prevailing mood of sadness. Furthermore, despite the temporary respite from the barricades, it appears that the Polish artists were carrying out their own revolution upon the canvas as ‘their artistic endeavour was to liberate painting from the confines of subject matter and to establish its autonomy, hence the crossover of styles.’ This concept may also be a metaphor for the Polish struggle for independence. Though Realist expediency is expressed in these paintings, the role of the arts in illustrating the Uprisings is not minimised. According to Davies, it was the very aims and ideals of the Insurrectionist that provided the largest single ingredient of modern Polish culture and ‘not even the sober, scientific analysts of the 1860s could diminish this actuality.’ Ultimately, despite the call for common sense, the knight on horseback continues to ride through these landscapes, albeit at a more reflective and introspective pace.

The Insurgents of 1863 by Ryszard Okninski

The interplay of dialogue between Romantic and Positivist ideology is evident in this artwork by Okininski, Insurgents of 1863. Indeed, in the ‘shadow and silence’ of the forest setting one can appreciate that the ‘resurrection of Poland was being planned.’ The painting shows the respite from fighting and emphasizes the bloody consequences of warfare, with a wounded Insurrectionist being guided through the woods by a peasant carrying a scythe. Behind this central tableau one can see two other figures, one possibly being a peasant leading oxen along the trail. The Positivist answer to Poland’s plight is suggested in this artwork with the prominence on the tools and beasts associated with down-to-earth work.

However, the image of the peasant carrying a scythe is laden with historical, political and social connotation. The scythe harks back to an earlier Uprising against the Russians in 1888, depicted in The Battle of Raclawice by Jan Matejko. The national hero Tadeusz Kosciusko led an army of peasants carrying only scythes to victory. The social significance of this battle was to strengthen independence and honour the Third of May Constitution with its manifesto of freedom and equality for all. This battle is a symbol of Poland’s democratic struggle in a bid to abolish serfdom and is regarded as the last great stand of the country before the Final Partitioning. Kosciusko, a hero figure of independence was arrested and later became a part of the secret revolutionary societies in Paris. The association with the scythe therefore, becomes laden with revolutionary meaning. The other powerful message that this painting imparts is though the nation’s soul was wounded, the leaders in exile still had the welfare of the nation in their concern. Thus, the clever interplay of figures in the painting is compelling evidence of the conception of freedom that included the emancipation and empowerment of the peasantry.

Kosciusko’s ideal of democracy is further played out in Okninski’s imagery. The artist challenges the dictates of genres whereby ‘a peasant and a member of the upper class should not be depicted as equals.’ Okninski presents the notion that both the soldier on horseback and the peasant who leads the horse may both uphold a common value of bravery, principles and independence (fig. 40). In fact, a quote by Andrej Frycz Mododrzewski (1530-1584) who was part of a gentry led sixteenth-centruy Intellectual Movement is apt in describing the fascinating interplay of ideology in the artwork: When a man of common birth displays nobility by his deeds, his common origins are no shame to him but on the contrary merit blazons and armorial bearings.

In regard to the chivalric nuances in the painting, knighthood eventually became open to any person who could demonstrate valiant deeds. In this way, the subtle call to Poland’s people to rise to the task of independence supports the idea that the Romantic tradition still prevailed during the period of pragmatic reorganization. Furthermore, the chivalric significance attached to the horse being led by the peasant provides much insight into this painting’s interpretation. According to Gies, the horse symbolizes the people who must support the knight. As the knight looks after the welfare of the people, the people must provide the knight with the necessities of life. Undeniably, the image powerfully plays on the idea of the reversal of roles as to who is being guided and who is being led. Indeed, if it is a peasant who guides the horse who represents the people, the artwork could also be promoting the idea of a peasant-led socialist movement. With many of the Upper Classes losing their estates as a result of the reprisals, this inevitably caused the emergence of such movements.

Evidence of a National Cultural Program in Polish Artwork of the 19th Century

Cavalry During the Uprising of 1863 by Ryszard Okninski

Ryszard Okninski’s Cavalry During the Uprising of 1863[1] is essentially a rural scene incorporating elements of Romanticism and Realism. The canvas is partitioned vertically into three sections. The central section is a curving road which conveys a sense of forward movement. To the left of the road is an oval field and to the right is an elevated, grassed enclosure bordered by a wooden beamed fence. A tree grows on this hill; its branches lean over the sandy thoroughfare. In the middle ground, the thatched roofs of farm buildings are visible and another verdant and emergent tree provides the background to the central focus – the Polish Cavalry on horseback. In the further distance are golden haystacks and the horizon line is defined by a cloudy sky. A small patch of blue is visible through the clouds.

A band of soldiers wearing red caps ride along the road at a steady canter. They hold upraised lances, adorned with small white flags. The Captain in an overcoat draped around his shoulders cuts a distinguished figure, his sabre slung across his chest. A soldier on his right gazes across to the elevated knoll and catches the eye of a blonde woman dressed in white leaning against the fence. Behind her, the beams of the railing form a distinct crucifix shape. Standing along the road is a peasant couple dressed in black and the whole scene is bathed in a warm golden light.

This scene is an allegorical reference to the chivalric code and its complex pattern of social relationships. The soldiers on horseback with raised lances are reminiscent of a medieval pageant event. Moreover, the peaked roofs of the buildings give them a tent like character, thus evoking the pavilions at a tournament which are erected for important spectators such as the lady in white standing behind the wooden barrier. Acknowledged by the gaze of the soldier on horseback, she becomes the idealized feminine figure who inspires the knight to perform deeds of valor. Indeed, the detail of the crucifix behind her may be reference to Mariolatry or the cult of the Virgin Mary. Certainly, her white dress is the colour of virtue. Such devotion was a vital part of the chivalric code and later became incorporated into concepts of Patriotism and love of the Motherland. In fact, in further connecting the artwork to the Romantic literature from which it was born, the image of this female is almost directly described by Maria Ilnicka in 1880, editor of Bluszcz, a women’s magazine. As cited in Fidelis, this figure is like Mary standing under the cross of Christ. She is regarded as an earth mother, a modest, gentle and dignified nurturer of Patriotism in the home. Ilnicka’s ideas often echoed Polish Romantic and Messianic traditions, where women co-suffered with men in the struggle for Freedom.[2]

Having pledged themselves to the lady, one can imagine the knights riding into the field on the left to begin the tournament, which in the Middle Ages was a means of resolving such disputes in a chivalrous and honorable manner. In evoking a scene of medieval pageantry by means of visual metaphor, Okninski is able to place the reality of the current troubles of Poland in a more Romantic past. At the same time he alludes to the bygone glory of knighthood.

The white flags at the end of the lances reference heraldic concepts, a vital part of the visual culture of knighthood. This display of status imposes a sense of social order upon the chaos of the Uprisings in Poland. Heraldry first appeared during the Crusades and the decorated lances bestow the Insurgents with a sense of honour and virtues such as charity and justice. It also signifies a symbol of the state, partitioned but not yet vanquished. In this way the reference to heraldry also symbolizes the pride in heritage.

The presence of the peasant couple adds the element of realism to this idealistic scene and reflects the view that the freedom of Poland also involved the emancipation of the peasant classes. As contributors to Poland’s farming industry this reference to the aims Polish Positivism grounds the metaphors of the painting in reality, but also does not fail to elevate the soul. Indeed, the tournament was an important social event and influenced all levels of life. The tree growing from the knoll hangs protectively over the peasant couple on the road as well as the soldiers, and reassures of guardianship from a higher force. That being said, it is the powerful sense of Romanticism that truly defines this artwork. The resonance of Polish Messianic philosophy with its sense of spirituality and mysticism is strongly heard through the rustle of wind through the leaves, seen through the glow of the light upon the metal of the sabre and smelt through the freshly cut fields of this Patriotic scene.

[1] Ryszard Okninski, Cavalry During the Uprising of 1863, oil on canvas, 28.6 x 41 cm, private collection.

[2] Fidelis, M. ‘Participation in the Creative Work of the Nation: Polish Women Intellectuals in the Cultural Construction of Female Gender Roles, 1864-1890’, Journal of Women’s History, vol. 13, no. 1, 2001, p. 113.

Romanticism & Realism in Polish Art of the 19th C

Polish Patrol in 1830 and Insurrectionary Patrol by Maksymilian Gierymski.

The scene from the 1830 Insurrection, Polish Patrol in 1830, 1869 (cat. 8)[1] is characterized by a combination of Realism and melancholic Romantic undertones. On a muddy crossroad that cuts across the foreground of the canvas are four centrally placed figures on horseback. They wear the uniforms of the Polish cavalry. Whilst the soldier on our far left looks out towards the viewer, his comrades face inwards and look down the road that leads into a remote village, signified by two buildings on the far right, one possibly being a schoolhouse. A bell can be seen on its roof. Standing at the intersection an aged village dweller speaks to the soldiers. His ragged clothing and hunched stance reflects his plight. The cold climate is conveyed through the snow covered fields and the two bare trees in the background. In the distance, on the far left, are four windmills, albeit inactive ones. The ground is frozen and the black crows gathering on the roadside add to the sense of gloom. The only movement in the painting appears to be evoked by the rider on horseback.

A second painting by Gierymski, Insurrectionary Patrol, 1872-73 (cat. 9)[2] looks just over thirty years into the future and depicts a scene from the 1863 Uprising. This landscape could almost be the very same crossroad travelled on by the soldiers over thirty years earlier, only the angle of the viewpoint is slightly changed. Viewed alongside each other, the differences between the two paintings provoke interesting reflection. In the second painting, the soldier on the far left looks backwards, down the road already travelled, rather than directly at the viewer. Instead of cutting vertically across the canvas as in the first painting the road continues from the foreground and recedes into the distance. The central motif of soldier on horseback stopping to talk to the peasant figure on the road is repeated in the second canvas, however the positions are reversed. It is now the peasant figure in long overcoat and hat who looks down the road towards the horizon. As in the first painting a soldier on horseback initiates the movement and leads the way down this road.

Indeed, in comparing the two artworks there appears to be a message about the passing of time and season. The fields in the second painting are now a promising green and the grey clouds slowly give way to a more promising bluer sky. There is a conveyance of a sense of loss however. As a result of the repressive measures following the 1830 Uprising, property was seized, schools were closed and the Polish army was disbanded. Noticeably absent from the second painting is the school building and the uniforms of the figures on horseback. The sabres of the soldiers are replaced by rifles further reflecting the change in warfare tactics and perhaps the passing of a certain chivalric ideal. Indeed, in 1830 the last bastion of the Enlightened Age believed that the question of Polish independence could still be solved through an honourable contest.

The vast, desolate landscapes of both canvases contribute to an overwhelming feeling of isolation, perhaps metaphoric of how Poland felt in her struggle for freedom. Furthermore, the flat open landscape emphasises how vulnerable Poland was to invasion. The broken wooden barrier in the foreground on the viewer’s right may also suggest this. Thirty years on, the soldier in the second painting looks back down the long road of struggle – perhaps futilely in the hope that the grooves made in the road are from much needed foreign aid rather than Russian forces. Nevertheless, though the landscape may express the isolation of the country as a whole – the human activity in the painting is reflective of the Positivist and indeed Romantic aspirations of uniting all classes of Poland and reconciling her proud her past with her present.

The Positivist Movement also aimed to raise Poland’s peasant class to that of the new Proletariat, hence the interweaving of Realist elements into the artwork, much in line with Courbet’s ideology. The second painting suggests this progress, the figure on the road with his backpack and walking stick appears to be a freer figure than the one dressed in rags and living in poverty. He appears to be making that journey down the road and into the distant future. His bare feet may suggest that he is a biblical figure and recalls the resurrected Jesus meeting his disciples on the road after leaving his tomb. Indeed, the broken wood in the foreground on the viewer’s right may be reference to the crucifix from which this figure has descended.

The presence of the soldiers reminds the viewer of the protective role associated with the chivalrous on horseback. Indeed, this motive which celebrates those ancient feudal ties appears in several artworks of this era, (figs. 41 & 42). This recurring theme further supports the historicism element used by the Messianic philosophers, to show the connectivity of events.

Gierymski had taken part in the January Uprising and he paints these scenes from memory. In doing so, he also plays with the history painting genre as a form of reportage, thus contributing an eyewitness view of events. It is of conjecture that the soldier in the second painting looking backwards down the road could almost be the artist himself and typical of the Romantic concern with issues of existence and his own grand place in the scheme of things.

[1] Maksymilian Gierymski, Polish Patrol in 1830, 1869, oil on canvas, 48.5 x 80 cm, private collection.

[2] Maksymilian Gierymski, Insurrectionary Patrol, 1872-3, oil on canvas, 60 x 108 cm, National Museum, Warsaw.

The Significance of the Image of Knight on Horseback in Polish Artwork of the 19thC

This painting also by Kossak, Wounded Curassier on a Horse,[3] is painted ten years shy of Poland finally achieving her independence. In spite of a period where Postivist pragmatism seemed to subdue the revolutionary tendencies of the Polish people, the image reawakens their enduring spirit of Romanticism. The knight on horseback is once again resplendent in full armour, riding into the new dawn of freedom, and continuing the fight for liberty that spanned five generations.

A Wounded Cuirassier Asks Directions by Wojciech Kossak

Central to this image painted in 1808 is an injured knight in heavy amour upon his horse. The soldier’s plumed helmet is tied to his saddle and his metal breastplate is adorned with gold buckling. A blue scarf is wrapped around his head and covers one eye. It is unclear as to which war this knight is returning from as the armour gives this figure a timeless quality. The wounded warrior has stopped by a village roadside to ask a young peasant woman, wearing a headscarf, directions. She gestures to the left. Two thatched buildings enclosed by a wicker enclosure encompass the background of the painting. And indigo sky suggests the onset of evening or perhaps the early dawn. A thick blanket of snow covers the fore and middle ground. The wintry scene is further heightened by the heavy coats worn by the man and woman. The condensation of breath through the horse’s nostrils is also visible in the cold air.

Whilst the previous artwork incorporates the debate between Classical and Romantic ideologies, this final painting expounds the conversation between Poland’s Romantic soul and modern Realist thought. The artwork revisits the recurring motif of a guardian on horseback stopping to talk to a peasant figure along a roadside (figs. 41 & 42). Whilst Positivists believed that the true national culture should be based on the culture of the peasantry, the Romantic legacy of historical classes leading the citizens is still apparent in Polish artwork of the late nineteenth-century. The collaboration between both classes in this painting further reflects the Romantic and democratic ideals that aimed to unite the nation in a common cause.

Whilst the pragmatists believed that a concerted national focus on industrialization was the answer to Poland’s welfare, the knight figure in the image with his associations to enterprises of a spiritual nature, reminds the viewer of a higher aim. For that reason, the personage on horseback is positioned higher than the peasant woman wearing a rather luxurious fur coat which appears out of place. The coat may be a symbol of wealth and misguided value, whilst the breastplate worn by the knight clearly is symbolic of protecting the heart and soul. What’s more, Lull symbolically assigns the resistance to vices and faults to this piece of armour.[1]

Nevertheless, the features of the woman are refined and beautiful and it is possible that she may also be the personification of Romantic chivalric love. Allegorically, the female figure of the land, becomes the idealized love object. In an allusion to the love of country the modern knight seeks in her inspiration and guidance, hence the title of the piece. Indeed, the atmospheric purple hues add a touch of the poetic to the scene.[2] There is a striking contrast between the bleak reality and the resurfacing of a prevailing spiritual force, as depicted by the knight on horseback riding through the wintry but esoteric landscape. In this way, Polish Realism did not fall into the decline of sterile economic materialism.[3] Davies explains that ‘the Positivists could justly claim to be the guardians of Poland’s body,’ as symbolized by the landscape, whilst the Romantics remained as ‘guardians of the soul, cultivating the workings of the imagination.’[4]

A third layer of meaning places this artwork within the wider European context. Through the use of similar scenery and title, Kossak makes reference to an earlier artwork by Caspar David Friedrich entitled The Chassseur in the Forest, 1814 (fig. 28).[5] Kossak’s Cuirassier[6] in his long cape is dressed in the same way as Friedrich’s French Dragoon[7] who wanders lost in a wood of evergreens. Friedrich’s artwork, painted in 1814 commemorates Napoleon’s defeat and the end of French occupation of Germany. This compelling image of a forest encircling a solitary soldier is a moving reflection upon a spiritual quest to comprehend the loss of Romantic idealism as well as the changing nature of warfare and the decline of military chivalry. Friedrich’s Chasseur wears his plumed helmet to protect himself from such shame.[8]

In Kossak’s artwork, it is almost as if this figure has emerged from his contemplation in the snow covered woods, on a road asking directions, but all the same, no longer spiritually lost. The soldier is back on his horse in heavy armour, slightly wounded, his helmet tied to his horse to accommodate a bandage to facilitate healing. His horse which represents the people abounds in vigor and vitality as indicated by its noticeable breath.

The landscape and genre-historical painting that is distinguished by its amalgamation of Realism and Romantic tradition was created by Polish artists who simply could not deny the tragic consequences of the political events and rapid changes that affected nineteenth-century Europe. Even Degas who was noted for his scientific approach to painting, uncharacteristically ‘traverses conventions of style and genre’ to comment upon the wider European plight.[9] His artwork entitled Mlle Fiocre in the Ballet ‘La Source’, 1867-68 (fig. 29),[10] is conceivably influenced by the typically Polish use of historical and allegorical references in mid to late nineteenth century art. Degas takes a scene from a ballet set in distant Georgia. The three female figures are dressed in medieval costume and the sense of Romanticism is enhanced by the wistful and faraway expressions on their faces. In the actual ballet, a real horse is brought on stage and the animal is featured in this landscape drinking from a flowing stream.

Historically, although France was in the process of building political ties with the powerful Russian nation, this artwork makes reference to Georgia, which like Poland, was also fighting for its independence. The horse so often seen with its chivalrous rider in Polish artworks of the same era, is on its own in Degas’ image and thus, it is possibly a very powerful comment upon the loss of chivalry in the late nineteenth century.

Whilst Friedrich’s painting shows the soldier without his horse, Degas shows the horse, symbolic of the people, without its knight. When these paintings are considered alongside Kossak’s, the significance of the knight on horseback in Polish artworks from the mid to late nineteenth century becomes complete.

[1] Gies, F. op. cit. p. 105.

[2] Australian landscape artists, influenced by the sentimentalism Victorian poetry, made use of various purple hues to give the artwork a lyrical effect and thus stimulate poetic reflection.

[3] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 184.

[4] ibid, p. 183.

[5] Caspar David Friedrich, The Chasseur in the Forest, 1814, oil on canvas, 65.7 x 46.7cm, Private Collection.

[6] Armoured Cavalryman.

[7] Armed Cavalryman.

[8] The moral-religious significance of the helmet is to provide protection from the ‘dread of shame’ (According to Lull, cited in Gies, op. cit. p. 105).

[9] Kinsman, J. Degas: the Uncontested Master, NGA Publishing, National Gallery of Australia, Canberra, 2008, p. 116.

[10] Edgar Degas, Mlle Fiorce in the Ballet ‘La Source’, 1867-68, oil on canvas, 130.8 x 145.1cm, The Brooklyn Museum, New York, 21.111.

The poignant and stirring melody evoked by these artworks included in the catalogue is one that accentuates the central social, cultural and political contextual framework of this thesis, namely ‘the great bloody-sorrowful history’ of Poland.[2] In this way, this thesis has argued that the paintings are a powerful testimony to the vibrant voice of a nation asserting its identity in the face of subjugation and oppression. However, it is through the symbolism of the universal figure of chivalry that an even more profound implication is revealed.

The image of the knight on horseback that was represented by Polish artists in accordance with the National Cultural program provided Poland’s younger generations with ‘models of personal behaviour and inspired them to attain spiritual liberation based on decisions made from principle and deep moral conviction.’[3] The image of the knight on horseback was simultaneously positioned as a commemorative, coded symbol of the sacrifice of past generations, an active sign of inspiration for contemporary viewers, as well as an enduring site of aspiration for future generations. These subsequent generations of Poles have, indeed been described as ‘daring and devoted men and women, careless of their own safety, who fought against tyranny wherever it was found.’[4]

In 1944 a further Insurrection was staged by Poles against the German occupiers in Warsaw. Once again, the Poles in a splurge of hopeless Romantic courage rose in arms against the overwhelming forces of the Nazi’s who oppressed them.[5]Whilst the Romantic literature has been identified as not only contributing to the Risings but actually precipitating them further scholarship may also reveal how vital a role the artwork, borne from the literature, also played.[6] The fact that during World War II the paintings of Jan Matejko headed the Gestapo’s blacklist of works to be destroyed may be an indication the art’s intrinsic value. Many people connected to the underground networks placed their lives in danger to protect the artwork.[7] Thus, the impact of chivalric idealism and its imagery of unselfish service, honour, dedication to justice and the protest against war’s brutalities were far reaching. Existing war records reveal incomplete lists of people who were imprisoned, tortured and even killed in the great effort to guard Matejko’s Battle of Grunwald and keep its hiding place a mystery.[8]

This Polish crusade in nineteenth-century art existed alongside and in contrast to the images of Modernity that provided popular subject matter for the Realist artists in France in particular. Having explored the significance of the representation of the knight on horseback, a comment upon the very nature and consequences of industrialisation and progress seems to reverberate across the passages of time. Whilst the Realist artworks of Degas, for example, depict a society increasingly alienated from reality, as in The Absinthe Drinker, 1878 (fig. 51), or a reality that is coloured by the artificial bright lights of the theatre (fig. 52), the Romanticism which underlines Polish Realism grounds the experience in the realm of the soul and emotion and is perhaps a more telling interpretation of the human experience in an increasingly alien world. The Polish description of nineteenth-century life thus differs from French Realism which viewed the world in a scientific and detached manner and hence these Polish artworks, replete with chivalric symbolism may be seen to serve a very real purpose in the lives of the ‘avant-garde’ generation of the time.

As the role of the nineteenth century artist was to impart a truer understanding of past and present, based on what exists, therein lies a thought-provoking experience for the viewer when French Realist paintings are considered alongside the Polish Romantic ones.[9] In reflecting upon Manet’s Olympia 1863, (fig. 53) alongside Gierymski’s 1863 Insurgent, 1869 (fig. 54), for example, profound questions are raised as to what it is to be truly liberated and enlightened. Whilst Polish artists aimed for a sense of historical and spiritual connectivity to time and place, a criticism of nineteenth-century French Realist art, ‘temporal and bound to the immediate experience,’ is that it was emotionally lacking in continuity and coherence.[10] Furthermore, whilst ‘Poland’ did not exist on the nineteenth-century world atlas, the paintings that have been discussed throughout this thesis provide evidence of a nation’s intangible soul that continued to be existent.[11]Consequently the artwork contributes the contemporary metaphysical debate concerning the means of art which ‘asserts and demands absolute independence from the world of reality and, indeed, disputes the existence of any single world of reality at all.’[12]

It was a world of fanaticism and superstition…of courtly love and the
extravagance of knightly enterprises. But nothing could be more
praiseworthy and beautiful than the theory on which it was grounded.[13]

Whilst the Industrial Age in Britain produced a revival of interest in the medieval knight and above all his code of behaviour, Gies maintains that it was the spiritual aspect of chivalry that was neglected. ‘Many modern knights fought for profit and killed without mercy, robbed those who they should have defended and violated those they should have respected.’[14] In this way, Polish artists of the mid to late nineteenth century can be seen as moral crusaders or ‘ambassadors to humanity, whose sufferings can inspire a world seduced by the lure of power and success.’[15]

It is the glory of the Polish people to hold aloft the torch of idealism
in a materialist age. (Louis Van Norman)[16]

[2] Facos, M. & Hirsh, S. Art, Culture and National Identity in Fin-de-Siecle Europe, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2003, p. 81.

[3] Davies, N. Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 204.

[4] ibid.

[5] Of course, it was a heroic failure but then most of Poland’s battles are heroic failures, and the glories of Poland are always tinged with sadness, Jan Morris, Fifty Years of Europe: An Album, Penguin Group England, 1997, p. 176.

[6] Davies, N. Heart of Europe: the Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 204.

[7] Silk, G. ‘Uneasy Pieces: Controversial Works in the History of Art’ in Art Journal, vol. 51. No. 1, 1992, p. 24.

[8] Unknown to the Germans, the painting was hidden in the Lublin Museum’s school library, within a counter built over it. When the Nazi’s occupied this building the painting was buried in Lublin’s Camp City, Bartorska, D. ‘The Political Censorship of Jan Matejko’ in Art Journal, vol. 51, no. 1, 1992, p. 61.

[9] Nochlin, L. op. cit. p. 23.

[10] ibid, p. 31.

[11] Grombich, as cited in Nochlin, ibid. p. 20, states that the history of nineteenth-century art is the story of the struggle against schemata, schemata being the tangible connections that the mind creates in order to understand the world.

[12] ibid, p. 15.

[13] Sir Walter Scott, Encyclopedia Britannia 1818, cited in Gies, op. cit. p. 205.

[14] Gies, F. op. cit. p. 204.

[15] Davies, N. The Heart of Europe: The Past in Poland’s Present, op. cit. p. 192.

[16] Mollenhauer, B. op. cit. p. 245.

Author's Note

The Language and terms used in this dissertation are presented simply as a matter of fact to reflect the political and historical circumstances of the era.