It might have seemed that soon after the end of the Livonian War, the Atlas would forever lose its relevance.1 The truce was signed, and King Báthory had achieved his military and political goals, so PachoÅowieckiâs maps ceased to be valuable as military tools and propaganda messages.
Moreover, the first half of the 17th century saw further wars between the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and Muscovy. In 1611, King Sigismund III Vasaâs army recaptured Smolensk, taken by the Muscovites in 1514. In 1634, the next Vasa ruler, WÅadysÅaw IV, defeated a large Muscovite army near this city. Thus, in the 17th century, it was Smolensk that played the main role in Polish-Lithuanian political propaganda,2 and the victories of Stephen Báthory were overshadowed by those of the Polish Vasas.
For a while, however, the Map of the Principality of Polatsk could be a valuable source of geographical information, especially concerning the river network. As we already know, it was used by Gerardus Mercator, among others. However, by the end of the 17th and in the first half of the 18th centuries, the region was charted anew, and PachoÅowiecki-Cavalieriâs work became merely some out-of-date maps. In other parts of Europe, these maps may perhaps be nothing more than a historical source. However, in eastern and eastern-central Europe, history, even as distant as medieval or early modern history, is an important element of the political discourse, i.e. the politics of history.3 Thus, historical sources can receive a new life and validity. This is also the case of the Atlas of the Principality of Polatsk.
We can trace such a use of PachoÅowieckiâs maps from the very beginning of the 19th century. The maps were described for the first time by Feliks Bentkowski in 1814 in his History of Polish Literature.4 Bentkowskiâs book was not only a research publication but also a monument of the literature of the non-existent country. After the third partition in 1795, Poland and Lithuania did not exist as the states. In these new political circumstances, Polish elites undertook many works, whose purpose was to rescue the national identity. Bentkowskiâs History was one of them. It is not a coincidence, that he described PachoÅowieckiâs maps in such a way: âThis rare collection is a work of a useful and beautiful endeavour of our countryman.â5 For a 19th-century historian the Atlas was a part of a national heritage to be proud of.
The publication of maps by Mikhail Andreevich Korkunov in 1837 also had political implications. He published copies of PachoÅowieckiâs maps six years after Russia suppressed the November Uprising (1830â1831), in which Poles tried to regain their independence. After the failure of the uprising, the Russian government began a campaign of repression against the Poles. A new politics of history was part of this. Korkunovâs works can be regarded as a part of an anti-Polish action. In the title of his work, Korkunov even omitted that the result of the 1579 campaign was unfavourable for the Muscovites: âThe map of the military actions between the Russians and the Poles in 1579â.6 This tendency can also be seen later. When in 1912 Aleksei Parfenovich Sapunov republished Korkunovâs reprints, in the title of his publication, he suggested that the maps described the results of the Muscovite military successes: âDrawings of the fortresses built on the demand of Tsar Ivan the Terrible after conquering Polatsk in 1563.â7
The Polish response to the Russian publications were the reprints, which we recalled in chapter 2. However, the 19th-century use of PachoÅowieckiâs map in the Polish politics of memory was not limited to the historiography. The map of the Principality of Polatsk was depicted in a well-known historical painting Batory pod Pskowem (Báthory at Pskov, 1872), by Jan Matejko (Figs 13.1a, 13.1b).
Batory pod Pskowem (Báthory at Pskov, 1872), by Jan Matejko, The Royal Castle in Warsaw-Museum. A fragment with Prince Konstanty Wasyl Ostrogski reading PachoÅowiecki, Ducatus
Photo J. Niedźwiedź
Batory pod Pskowem (Báthory at Pskov, 1872), by Jan Matejko, a fragment with the map Descriptio Ducatus Polocensis and a fragment of the map of PachoÅowiecki-Cavallieri
Photo J. Niedźwiedź
In the second half of the 19th century, Jan Matejko (1838â 1893) was a leading figure in Polish history painting. His works contributed to establishing the modern national iconography. In his paintings, such as The Battle of Grunwald (1878), The Prussian Homage (1882), or Constitution of 3 May 1791 (1891), Matejko presented moments of the past glory of the Poles, their military and political successes. The Báthory at Pskov also belongs to this group.
As usual, in the case of Matejko, the painting is a symbolic interpretation of the past, not an account of historical facts. The painter represented the last stage of the Livonian War: the fictitious homage paid by the Muscovite boyars to King Báthory in 1582 at the city walls of Pskov (which was not conquered by the king). On the left side of the painting, between the standing chancellor, Jan Zamoyski, and the king sitting on the throne, sits a grey-bearded man with his profile turned towards the viewer. This is Ukrainian prince Konstanty Wasyl Ostrogski (1526â1608), a politician, commander, and patron of arts, the founder of the Orthodox Ostroh Academy, and sponsor of the publication of the Church Slavonic Bible (the Ostroh Bible). The prince is not interested in the event he is participating in and pays no attention to the king or the Muscovite boyars. Nor is he partaking in the disputes between Polish politicians standing nearby. He is absorbed by a map that he is holding in his hands. Closer examination reveals that it is PachoÅowiecki, Ducatus.8 It appears that for Prince Ostrogski the map is more important than the territory. Maybe this is the message that the 19th-century painter wished to convey in this part of his painting. Not only is it the events themselves that are important, but also their later representation: historical narratives, paintings, and maps are of significance.
In the 20th century, PachoÅowieckâs maps were rarely mentioned outside academia. It was probably because eastern Europe was again under Soviet (Russian) control. Censorship prevented any publications that would present Russia as the defeated party. Only after the fall of the Soviet Union, could the Atlas be recalled and become part of the rivalry over the past. The main field of the rivalry is popular historical books, usually related to military history, e.g. publications by Kupisz or Filyushkin, cited many times in our book.9 However, the PachoÅowiecki, Polatsk is also used in visual representations.
Belarusian authorities used PachoÅowieckiâs map for propaganda on commemorative coins. In 1998, the National Bank of Belarus issued a coin featuring a view of 16th-century Polatsk. It is a fragment of PachoÅowiecki-Cavalieriâs view. The coin with a denomination of 1 or 20 roubles (the latter in silver) was produced as part of a series representing Belarusian historical gorods. The purpose of this series was to demonstrate a thousand-year history of Belarusian towns. An almost identical view of Polatsk occurred on a silver Belarusian coin from 2015 with a denomination of 20 roubles. This edition aimed to commemorate the famous Belarussian humanist Francysk Skaryna (Skoryna, before 1490âafter 1540), who came from Polatsk (Fig. 13.2). In 2001 in Belarus, a collection of postcards entitled Polatsk on Early 20th-Century Postcards was issued. Among the hundred-year-old photographs, there is also a large fragment of PachoÅowiecki, Polatsk.10
A Belarusian coin with Francysk Skaryna (before 1490âafter 1540) and the view of Polatsk
Similar publications can be found in contemporary Poland. The supplement to the biggest Polish newspaper Gazeta Wyborcza of August 2016 included âa calendar pageâ commemorating the recovery of Polatsk, again with PachoÅowieckiâs plan.11
The most interesting recent example of the reuse of the map of the siege of Polatsk is a Polish graphic novel from 2015. It was published by the Military Centre for Civil Education (Wojskowe Centrum Edukacji Obywatelskiej) and entitled The 1579 Siege of Polatsk (OblÄżenie PoÅocka 1579).12 The story begins in 1577, when the demonic Ivan the Terrible, resembling the evil sorcerer from Disneyâs cartoons, invades Livonia, then a territory of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, and perpetrates unprecedented atrocities (Fig. 13.3). News of this treacherous attack reaches King Stephen Báthory at rebellious GdaÅsk. Only after suppressing the burghersâ revolt does the ruler convene a sejm in Warsaw to gather funds for the war. Next, the book tells the story of the campaign and the siege. The graphic novel ends with the recovery of Polatsk and Báthoryâs ennoblement of a heroic coppersmith who set the fortress on fire and contributed to its capture.
Ivan IV the Terrible in the cartoon The 1579 Siege of Polatsk (OblÄżenie PoÅocka 1579) (2015)
The scenario of the graphic novel is not sophisticated. Prefaced with a historical introduction for the general public, The 1579 Siege of Polatsk basically focuses on the chronological representation of key events and historical figures, although it is not free from contemporary, purely humorous elements. However, what makes this graphic novel different from boring school textbooks is chiefly its graphic design.
The authors draw not only on historical studies and written resources, but also on visual relics: woodcuts from the 16th-century pamphlets, portraits, city views, and possibly also sculptures and medals. They managed to translate the language of Renaissance iconography into the visual language of the contemporary graphic novel in a very interesting way. A particularly amusing example of such a translation can be found on page 12. It depicts the map of the siege of the city. Its archetype was PachoÅowiecki, Polatsk (Fig. 13.4).
The view of Polatsk in the cartoon The 1579 Siege of Polatsk (OblÄżenie PoÅocka 1579) (2015)
The graphic novel from 2015 is, undoubtedly, an element of the stateâs historical policy developed for several years now. It is part of a cycle of graphic novels depicting important but largely unrecognized battles fought by the Polish military from the 16th to the 21st centuries.13 The book is, therefore, partly educational and partly propagandistic.
As we can judge from these examples, the original map of PachoÅowiecki, printed in Rome in 1580 and used as one means of the royal chancelleryâs propaganda, gained new life in the 19th century. Included in a contemporary Polish graphic novel or featured on Belarusian coins, it again fulfils a similar function for which it was cut four hundred years ago. It reinforces the official, propagandistic narrative about the history of Belarus and Poland (incidentally, omitting Lithuania). We can expect that the maps of the siege of Polatsk will appear both in the textual and iconographic popular presentations of the history of Belarus, Poland, Russia, or the Grand Duchy of Lithuania.
There are two reasons why this map is still valid. The first is the symbolic meaning of Polatsk for the national historiographies of Poland, Russia, and especially Belarus. For the Belarusians, the Principality of Polatsk is the cradle of their nationhood.14 This is why the town is so often presented on Belarusian coins and medals. Since PachoÅowieckiâs view of the town is the oldest existing one, it is not surprising that it is this source on which authors have relied so often.
The other reason why the view of the siege of Polatsk is so attractive is its cartographical nature. A map is one of the most efficient carriers of propagandistic and informative content, and its persuasive qualities are exceptionally powerful and long-lasting. The message inscribed in a map may be attractive and valuable for a user even a long time after its authorsâ intentions become lost in time, and the map becomes outdated. The example of PachoÅowieckiâs map, like other maps from the 16th century, proves that they retain their rhetorical potential. It can be activated and used quickly if needs be. This is possible not only because a map itself has such wonderful qualities, but the activation of its message is feasible mostly because contemporary users read a map in a similar (although not identical) way to its original users. Cartographic language evolves, but it is still based on rules drawn from Ptolemy. These rules may be referred to as cartographic topoi. They cover scaling, zooming, placing important elements in the centre and the less important ones on the peripheries, the use of colour and shape, prioritizing elements with different sizes of symbols and lettering, and lastly the view from Godâs perspective, so characteristic of Renaissance humanism (âpoetaâquasi alter Deusâ, as put by J.C. Scaliger). The rhetoric of a map15 established in the 16th century is, therefore, still comprehensible for us. Just like the Atlas of the Principality of Polatsk published in Rome in 1580.
Originally published as part of a paper: J. Niedźwiedź, âThe Atlas of the Principality of Polotskâan Introductionâ, Terminus 19 (2017), 1(42), pp. 19â36; DOI 10.4467/20843844TE.17.008.8266.
The battles of Smolensk in 1610â1611, 1616â1617, and 1632â1634 were depicted in numerous accounts, poems, medals, and maps. See: J. Nowak-DÅużewski, OkolicznoÅciowa poezja polityczna w Polsce: Zygmunt III Waza, Warsaw 1971, pp. 212â220; idem, OkolicznoÅciowa poezja polityczna w Polsce: Dwaj mÅodsi Wazowie, Warsaw 1972, pp. 16â38; M. Nawrocki, âMit SmoleÅska w piÅmiennictwie polskim XVII wiekuâprzypadek Jana Kunowskiegoâ, Terminus 18 (2016), 4(41), pp. 401â420; K. Åopatecki, âPierwszy poetycki traktat wojskowy z mapÄ âJana Kunowskiego Odsiecz smoleÅska. Wykorzystanie kartografii w dziaÅaniach operacyjnych (1616â1617)â, Rocznik Lituanistyczny 4 (2018), pp. 41â75. The most impressive is a large wall map of Willem Hondius showing the relief of Smolensk in 1634, composed of sixteen copperplates. Martin Opitz (1597â1639), a famous German poet and the official royal historian of King WÅadysÅaw IV Vasa, wrote a Latin description of the battle expressed on the map. See W. Hondius, Smolenscium urbs ope divina Vladislai IV Poloniae Sveciaeque regis, invictissimi principis, virtute liberatum, obsessi obsessores Moscovitae et auxiliarii, victi armis hostes fortitudine, vita donati clementia inusitata Anno 1634, GdaÅsk 1636. The scans of the map are available in the repository of the National Museum in Cracow (Poland): https://zbiory.mnk.pl/pl/wyniki-wyszukiwania/katalog/102928 (accessed 30.08.2023).
This term is derived from German Geschichtspolitik, see: Geschichtspolitik und demokratische Kultur: Bilanz und Perspektiven, ed. B. Bouvier, M. Schneider, Bonn 2008; M. Saryusz-Wolska, PamiÄÄ zbiorowa i kulturowa: WspóÅczesna perspektywa niemiecka (Cracow 2009). In English, there is also the term politics of memory, which has a similar meaning.
See chapter 2.
F. Bentkowski, Historia literatury polskiej, vol. 2, p. 626.
Supposedly, Matejko was not familiar with manuscript maps from the time of the Livonian War. Historians in the 19th century did not write about them, while PachoÅowieckiâs atlas was reissued some thirty years before the painting, which is discussed below.
D. Kupisz, PoÅock 1579;
See
â29.08.1579. Odbicie PoÅockaâ, Ale Historia, a supplement to Gazeta Wyborcza, issue 35(241), 29 August 2016, p. 2. The author of the note gave the wrong date of the capture of the city, which surrendered on 30 August 1579. He was probably inspired by the wrong date stated in PachoÅowiecki, Polatsk. See chapter 4.
OblÄżenie PoÅocka 1579, content editing and intr. P. Przeździecki, pictures R. Gajewski, Warsaw 2015.
The last part of the cycle Real Warrior depicts struggles of Polish soldiers in Afghanistan in 2011.
This is recalled in many popular historical narrations, including the History of Belarus in Wikipedia: âBetween the 9th and 12th centuries, the Principality of Polotsk (now in northern Belarus) emerged as the dominant center of power in the Belarusian territories, while the Principality of Turov south of it was a lesser power.â https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Belarus (accessed 30.08.2023). See also chapter 11.
J.B. Harley, âSilences and Secrecy. The Hidden Agenda of Cartography in Early Modern Europeâ, in: idem, The New Nature of Maps â¦, p. 107.