Among Polish authors writing on the Caucasus, there exists a conviction that Poles did not identify with the Russian conquests, that their participation in the endeavour was only out of compulsion and that, although participating in it, they fundamentally sympathised with the independent peoples and remained Polish patriots, cultivating Polish culture and striving for an independent Poland. In such an understanding of the matter, I identify a manifestation of the Polish ethnopolitical myth’s influence, which determines the notion that Poles could not cooperate with the “historical enemy” in the conquest of other peoples, as they had “always” been champions of liberty and fought against its adversary – Russia.
In the above outline concerning the issue of Poles’ service in the tsarist army in the Caucasus, several procedures used by contemporary Polish historians are distinctive. The first is a strong emphasis on the fact that Poles took part against their will in the conquest of the region and had moral dilemmas because of it. This is supposed to stem from them not wanting to come to terms with the fact that they had to fight against people defending their own independence. The explanation goes that Poles pitied and sympathised with the people of the Caucasus, perceiving them through the prism of their own fate and historical experience, which made them view their struggle against Russia as just. Consequently, they themselves did not identify with Russian conquests (Chodubski 1988: 36; idem 1994: 61; idem 2003d: 91; idem 2012a: 176; Filina/Osowska 2007: 36; Koseski 2002: 25; Later-Chodyłowa 2002: 48; Lijewska 1998: Piwnicki 2001: 48; idem 2011: 260; idem 2013: 8). Similar representations can also be found in journalistic writing (see Geremek 2008: 80; Jastrzębski 2014: 206).
The second procedure amounts to generating an image of the patriot-Pole who, even in the distant Caucasus, remained devoted to his homeland. Such a procedure was employed as early as the end of the 19th century. It is visible, for example, in works by historian and sociologist Bolesław Limanowski, who wrote: “and we saw more than once that Poles returned from the Caucasus more patriotic than they had been before” (Limanowski 1894: 233). Nevertheless, it wasn’t till the beginning of the 21st century that this way of presenting Poles serving in the tsarist army became popular. The most influential scholar propagating such an image was Chodubski. He mainly dealt with Poles in Azerbaijan but extended many of his theses to all Poles who had found themselves in the Caucasus in the 19th and early 20th centuries. The academic’s most important premise, characteristic of his work and recurring in many of his publications, was the claim that Poles were patriots (regarding Poland) preserving their religion (i.e. Catholicism) and culture, acclimated easily in any new place without succumbing to Russification, and at the same time set an example for other nationalities living in the Caucasus through their demeanour, winning universal respect (Chodubski 1986: 93; idem 2000b: 236–239; idem 2001: 158; idem 2003d: 10; idem 2006a: 107–108; idem 2012a: 183).
In Chodubski’s opinion, an important role in the preservation of Poles’ national and religious identity was played by the cultural and educational organisations in which they were actively involved, and this applied not only to the intelligentsia but to their entire community (Chodubski 2000b: 236–237; idem 2005: 111; idem 2006: 13). This, in turn, meant that Poles set an example in the organisation of cultural life and consolidation of one’s own culture for other nationalities living in the Caucasus (Chodubski 2005b: 194; idem 2005c: 74). In the context of strengthening Polishness, the Polish House is pointed to as an institution that aided Poles in safeguarding against assimilation (Chodubski 2005a: 38; Olszewski 2012: 139; Piwnicki 2001: 234).
When discussing the situation of Polish exiles to the tsarist army stationed in the Caucasus, it should be noted that, per historians dealing with the Russian army, Polish “political criminals” were not discriminated against for their previous conduct concerning conscripted soldiers, nor were they persecuted for their views. This was in connection with the view adopted in tsarist Russia that army service “smooths over” past transgressions (Matveev 2008: 103). These did not thus affect the possibility of advancement. It was relatively easy for exiles to obtain non-commissioned officer ranks and, with the right education, be promoted even to officer. Here, the clearest example is that of Wincenty Gedeon Giedroyć, who, although convicted of attempting to assassinate Tsar Nicholas I, was promoted to officer after several years of service in the Caucasus (Baranowski 1982: 287).
Wiesław Caban noted that a substantial portion of the conspirator youth was made up of senior secondary school pupils, students, and civil servants, as such individuals excluded from compulsory military service under conscription regulations. They also usually hailed from the noble estate, which commanded a certain respect from their superiors in the army, and resulted in more lenient treatment compared to conscripts. A second reason was their cultural and educational activity. A portion of Russian officers wanted Poles to teach their children foreign languages, music, introduce them to Western literature, etc. (Caban 2001: 138–139). This was a consequence of the fact that there was a disproportionate number of intellectuals among Polish exiles (concerning the total number of soldiers serving in the tsarist army). For this reason, they occupied positions requiring adequate mental grooming. The example of exiled Vilnian academics, who wrote down regimental histories or worked in regiments’ orderly rooms, may serve here (Widerszal 2011:33). Due to their education, they were able to occupy executive positions even lacking officer status, like Kazimierz Łapczyński, who, with his technical education, was in charge of engineering work even though he was not a non-commissioned officer (Baranowski/Baranowski 1985: 51).
Confirmation of this can be found in Polish exiles’ memoirs, in the work of Zygmunt Rewkowski for example. It contains many anti-Russian accents, but also plenty of evidence that a Pole was treated better than other soldiers on account of noble origin. He experienced this already on his way to the Caucasus, about which he wrote:
To a senior non-commissioned officer at headquarters, the auditor Kalashnikov recommended in front of my eyes that they should have consideration for us, as befitting dvoriane [i.e. noblemen – P.A.]; it also happened that they themselves were well-mannered and very honest people; so they served and nearly fawned all over us the whole way, such that we never experienced the slightest botheration from any of them. (Rewkowski 2011a: 12)
In another instance, while making his way to his unit through Dagestan, one Pole alongside several recruits committed insubordination (significantly overtaking the convoy commander during a march). Rewkowski wrote of this incident:
Finally, it came to pass that a non-commissioned officer on a wagon was left far behind, he rushed out and called after us, and having caught up, proceeded to cudgel each of us in turn – I was standing to the side at the time, waiting to get my comeuppance – but it ended with a rather polite remark that the country here is dangerous, that he is responsible for the entirety, and that we cannot straggle – the good fellow must have known that I am a dvorianin [i.e. a nobleman – P.A.], and must not be beaten. (Rewkowski 2011a: 27)
After arriving at his regiment, Rewkowski recalled that he and others “from among the Polish nobility exiled for 1831 and various political transgressions”, as well as exiled demoted officers, had no responsibilities: “all these men were assigned no duty – they were not called for drill – each lived as he wanted and was able. Almost all wore civilian attire – in a word, they were given complete leeway, and no one considered oppressing, tormenting, or persecuting them”. Rewkowski, remaining on good terms with command, never performed ordinary soldier duties. When, thanks to his connections, he was promoted to officer, he wrote: “Having arranged my quarters, the time came to think on my duties. As a soldier, I had never been on duty. I absolutely did not know how to be a front-line officer either” (Rewkowski 2011: 31–32, 196).
Zygmunt Rewkowski had strings pulled mainly through the regimental commander, General Franz von Klugenau. The Polish exile became his son’s tutor and lived in his superior’s house until he himself was promoted to officer. According to the exile’s writings, von Klugenau liked Poles and favoured them. The author noted that on expeditions he surrounded himself with a bodyguard made up of junkers and demotees, mostly Poles, whose valour he valued. Another tsarist commander favourably disposed towards Poles was said to have been General Pyotr Nesterov,1 who, as Rewkowski wrote, “greatly patronized demoted Poles”. Another sympathetic figure towards Polish nobles was said to be Nikolai Yevdokimov.2 Describing social relations in his unit, the Polish exile stressed that “almost all the unfortunate soldier Poles [the author meant here those sent to military service as punishment – P.A.] from the nobility […] constantly frequented Yevdokimov’s men”. We can assume that General Konstantin Ivelich too was not indifferent to their fate. When he learned from Rewkowski that one of the exiled Polish noblemen was tasked with carrying water, he gave him an extra ration of meat, made sure that he was no longer sent to do manual labour, and then placed him in the regimental orchestra. In Zygmunt Rewkowski’s memoirs, we find passages testifying to the promotions of Polish noblemen to officers as well. He mentions, for example, 10 exiles from the Konarski case who went on to make careers in the tsarist army. Rewkowski himself, thanks to von Klugenau’s manipulations (on this in a further passage of this work), was promoted to officer in 1841 and became regimental adjutant (Rewkowski 2011a: 31–36, 63, 76, 91, 139).
Many other examples of Polish political exiles’ advancement can be found in the subject literature. Of these, probably the greatest career in the Russian army in the Caucasus was that of Franciszek Wojakowski, a student at the Vilnius Medicine and Surgery Academy, who was exiled to the Caucasus in 1839 for his participation in an outlawed association. There, thanks to his combat merits against the mountaineers, he was promoted to the rank of major general, holding, among other positions, the respective posts of chief of the Kumyk and Kabardian districts (Savelʾev 2013). Promotions to general ranks in the tsarist army in the Caucasus did not bypass November insurrectionists either. One example is Apolinary Rukiewicz, who left behind memoirs entitled Iz vospominanij starogo érivanca, published in 1914 in volumes 137 and 138 of the journal Istoričeskij Vʾstnikʾ. He came from a Polish noble family settled in Lithuania (Grodno Governorate). Rukiewicz’s father was a major in the Polish army who had settled in Volhynia during the Napoleonic wars. As the outbreak of the November Uprising approached, he sent his son to university in Kraków to take him out of danger. However, in the summer of 1831, Apolinary came home for holiday and joined a partisan unit. When he fell into the hands of the Cossacks he was sentenced to be shot, which was later commuted to exile as a private to the tsarist army stationed in the Caucasus (Rukevič 1914: 512–526). He served there for 52 years. In 1839 Rukiewicz was promoted to the first rank of officer for his combat merits in operations against the free mountaineers. His career progressed and in 1863, as a colonel, he took command of the 151st Pyatigorsk Infantry Regiment. He ended his military career in 1875 with the rank of major general, having been war chief of the Kuban region since 1871 (Komisarčuk 2015). Later January Uprising commanders, such as Ludwik Narbutt, were also promoted to officers during punitive service in the Caucasus. According to his sister’s memoirs, Narbutt took part in dozens of skirmishes against free mountaineers, being wounded four times. He distinguished himself in these battles by his extraordinary bravery, personal courage, and acumen, thus commanding the highest respect from the Russians. As a result, he was promoted to officer (Sołtysowa 1903: 434).
According to Caban’s calculations, made concerning Russia as a whole, 62% of Polish exiles were promoted to the rank of non-commissioned officer or officer (Caban 2001: 158). It should be assumed that in the Caucasus this ratio may have been somewhat higher due to combat against mountaineers, in which one could prove oneself to superiors. For this reason, exiles considered this region more attractive than other parts of Russia. A model example is the fate of Roman Sanguszko, who came from a well-known magnate family. He was exiled to the Orenburg Line for his participation in the November Uprising, but thanks to family connections and acquaintances managed to transfer to the Caucasus, which was considered a better place for army service (Sanguszkowa 1927: 63).
The matter of the promotions of Polish exiles did not escape the attention of the foreign press. Traces of this can be found in the pages of Dziennik Narodowy. Referencing information taken from the “Augsburg Gazette”, it included a note about November Uprising participants, stating that “having been taken prisoner, they were sent to the Caucasus as simple soldiers, but as a result of their great bravery they mostly regained their officerial ranks” (Wiadomości 1846: 1076). In this context, one document, written in 1836 in Paris within the circle of people closely connected to Adam Czartoryski, proved interesting. It noted: “We heard here that Poles in the Caucasus distinguish themselves by their courage in battles against the Cherkess. That this was even reported to Nicholas [referring to Russia’s tsar – P.A.]” (Czartoryski 1835).
Regarding the involvement of Poles in the struggle against the mountaineers, an 1834 letter sent by Grigory Rozen, commander of the Caucasus Independent Corps, to Minister of War Alexander Chernyshyov is interesting. Describing an expedition in Dagestan commanded by Franz von Klugenau, he noted that Poles performed special dangerous tasks with exemplary zeal and made up the majority of volunteers in the units assigned to these (Cifanova 2005: 87).
General Grigory Filipson, in turn, wrote in his memoirs about Poles’ initiative:
[…] these were Trzaskowski and Lisowski, both students at Kiev University, exiled to serve in Abkhazia for their participation in one of the conspiracies that were so often concocted in that country … They ended up in Abkhazia in 1828 […] When Abkhazia became part of the Black Sea Shore Line, I took Trzaskowski into my staff as senior adjutant. In this position, he worked very reliably and sensibly. Before starting any expedition, I would send him on a ship to all the fortifications to collect all demotees who wanted to take part in combat operations. Up to 200 people were usually gathered, whom we jokingly called the “foreign legion” [it consisted mostly of Poles – P.A.]. Trzaskowski was often their commander. It does not even need to be said that this legion frantically charged into fire, to stand out and change their predicament. It is pleasant to recall that a great many of these unfortunates achieved this goal. In general, there were quite a few excellent officers and soldiers among the Poles, just as there were among other nationalities, albeit they were more conspicuous as their situation afforded them a particular originality. (Filipson 2000: 161)
One may judge that promotions were not always ethical and were a taboo subject. Such a conclusion can be drawn from the diary of Gralewski, who, not wishing to elaborate on the subject, cut the discussion with the statement that “it is a divine mystery by what means Poles had obtained ranks and titles” (Gralewski 2015: 94). In the absence of research material, it is currently difficult to analyse this phenomenon. One of the few examples in this regard is provided by the memoirs of Zygmunt Rewkowski, tutor to the son of General Franz von Klugenau. They show that the Pole and his protégé were sent in the spring of 1840 to the mineral waters in Pyatigorsk (the general wanted to treat his son). In the meantime, von Klugenau went on an expedition against the mountaineers. In his expedition report, he noted that Rewkowski, who was said to have distinguished himself in the battle against Shamil’s forces at Ishkarty, also took part, even though the Pole was actually in a completely different place at the time (Rewkowski 2011a: 76).
In the annexation of the Caucasus to Russia, also of merit were Poles who voluntarily enlisted in the tsarist army. Several of them made careers as generals. Of these, the best known were: Feliks Krukowski, from 1848 major general and ataman of the Caucasus Line Army, who took part in many expeditions against the Chechens and Dagestani peoples; Józef Reutt (Reut), lieutenant general, head of the civilian Transcaucasus Region Administration, who served in the Caucasus for several decades, for which he was decorated with, among other things, numerous orders; Sylwester Malinowski, lieutenant general, who from 1832 commanded the Black Sea Cordon Line and led operations against the Adyghe beyond the Kuban; Marcelin Olszewski, lieutenant general, who took part in operations against the Adyghe and was, among other things, commander of troops of the Kuban region; Andrzej Pacowski, major general, in the 1830s commander of Russian troops in the Transcaucasus. In the 1830s, he was commander of Russian troops in Abkhazia, as well as commander-in-chief of the Akhaltsikhe province; Justyn Czaplic, lieutenant general, who in the 1840s and 1850s took part in the conquest of the Caucasus, including operations against Imam Shamil, commanding, among others, the 1st and 2nd brigades of the 21st Infantry Division; Mikołaj Zawadowski, cavalry general, from 1848 commander of troops on the Caucasus Line and Black Sea, ataman of the Black Sea Cossack Army, who played a significant role in expeditions against the Shapsugs and naib Muhammad-Amin; Benedykt Kozłowski, infantry general, from 1841 commander of a Kabardian regiment, which took part in operations against Shamil, and from 1853 was commander of troops on the Caucasus Line and Black Sea (Cifanova 2005: 101).
Even after the end of hostilities, commanders of Polish origin continued making military careers, consolidating tsarist rule in the region. In this case, one of the most famous is Zygmunt Wolski. Having spent time in the Caucasus since the 1870s, he rose to the rank of lieutenant general in the tsarist army. The crowning achievement of his career was his appointment to wartime governor of Dagestan from 1908 to 1915 and his command of the Caucasian War District from 1915 to 1917 (Volʾskij 2012).
The fact that Poles adapted well to the existing conditions under tsarist administration in the Caucasus after the Russian conquest is evidenced, among other things, by the memoirs of Russian general and diplomat Konstantin von Benckendorff:3
The Poles acclimated exceptionally well in the Caucasus and put down deep roots here in all offices and chancelleries. They have covered the entire war administration with an invisible net and ensnared all its sections and departments, starting with the shift-plan writers and ending with the heads of administration of our generals-administrators. (Benkendorf 2000: 347–348)
Benckendorff also noted: “Of course, this cobweb had no political significance, and no mention of this in the Caucasus could be made […]”. This passage concerning Poles in the Caucasus concluded: “The Poles confer […] excellent officers and soldiers, worthy companions to the Russians” (Benkendorf 2000: 348). In turn, the aforementioned Grotkowski reported in Istanbul to representatives of the Hôtel Lambert that Mikhail Vorontsov’s administration is very temperate, and the governor and his wife do a lot of good for the Poles, so much so that the Tsar himself was said to be angered” (Grotkowski 1846) (the author did not specify what this good was supposed to entail, but likely it concerned promotions).
There is of course the additional problem of their feeling of “being Polish” due to origin and the issue of Russification, which today is no longer clearly definable. These difficulties are well illustrated by the information concerning General Benedykt Kozłowski quoted in Grigory Filipson’s memoirs:
He was a Pole (from Mogilev Governorate) and a Catholic, but he tried concealing this. Being a regimental commander, he would tell me that on holidays he always went to the Orthodox church and crossed himself in our manner, i.e. from his right shoulder to his left, yet would then make the Catholic cross under his greatcoat, i.e. from left to right. (Filipson 2000: 169)
Among the best-known Poles who chose a career in the tsarist army and served in the Caucasus was Józef Hauke-Bosak. In January 1861, he signed up to serve in a unit stationed at the Ust-Laba war encampment as a volunteer. There he commanded a rifle battalion of the Stavropol Infantry Regiment, in which he was deputy commander. He was rewarded with a promotion and the tsar’s decoration for his merits in expeditions against the mountaineers (Bulava 2013: 149). When the January Uprising broke out in January 1863, Hauke-Bosak resigned and became a close associate of Romuald Traugutt, the uprising’s dictator. Another famous Pole who enlisted in the Russian army and served in the Caucasus was Jarosław Dąbrowski. He stayed in the region from 1855 to 1859 and fought against the Circassians as an artilleryman in the 19th Field Artillery Brigade, which had its headquarters at the Urupskaya stanitsa. He was sent to the Caucasus with the rank of ensign after graduating from the Cadet Corps in Saint Petersburg. Dąbrowski’s Russian biographer, Vladimir Dyakov, cited documents in his work demonstrating that the Pole actively participated in operations against the free mountaineers. In 1857, he received a reward of 122 silver roubles for distinguishing himself during a summer expedition and was promoted to second lieutenant the following year (Dʾyakov 1969: 36–40). Historian Adam Buława also mentioned Edmund Różycki among the well-known commanders of the January Uprising who had previously voluntarily joined tsarist forces and served in the Caucasus. He stayed in the region three times throughout the 1840s and 1850s, took part in operations against the inhabitants of Dagestan and joined the staff of the Caucasus Corps with the rank of captain (Bulava 2013: 148–149). After his return to the country and the outbreak of the January Uprising, Różycki became one of the main leaders of the independence movement in Ukraine.
In the context of the patriotism and attachment to the idea of Polish independence of former soldiers of Polish origin serving in the tsarist army in the mid-19th century, to date no broader study has been conducted. However, Caban has cited data that contradicts the thesis of the widespread involvement of this group in the idea of building an independent Poland. According to his calculations, out of 6,000 Poles serving in the officer corps about 300 went over to the insurrectionists during the January Uprising (Caban 2014: 205). The historian also analysed data on the involvement of former soldiers in the January Uprising. While political exiles did actively support it, the complete opposite was true for recruits and volunteers. Studying documents relating to the inhabitants of Radom Governorate, Caban calculated that out of the 9.7 thousand arrested for participation in the uprising, former servicemen accounted for 0.9%, i.e. there were fewer of them among the insurrectionists than Jews, who were calculated at 2%, or foreigners – 2.8%. The historian cited one interesting case concerning Radom Governorate, where intensive military operations were carried out from January 1863 to November 1864. About 4,200 former soldiers were serving in the tsarist army in this area. Caban managed to identify 223 people among them who reacted in some way politically to the fighting. Of these, 127, i.e. 63.2%, voluntarily reported to the nearest Russian troops and declared their willingness to take part in the suppression of the uprising (Caban 2001: 198, 202, 210).
When researching the question of Polish soldiers’ returning (dismissed and on leave) from the tsarist army, the historian claimed that when analysing police reports from Lublin, Kielce or Radom, thus fairly significant cities in the Kingdom of Poland, he did not come across information indicating that such individuals got involved in patriotic activity. The researcher explained this by the fact that conscripts taken into the army, after 15–20 years of service, were largely russified and upon their return became “foreign” in their environment (Caban 2001: 194–195).
Caban’s thesis that the emergence of the image of Polish soldiers serving in the tsarist army and supposedly being patriots – in the sense that they strived for the establishment of an independent Poland – seems to be justifiably connected with the myth of Wallenrodism4 disseminated by those who successfully passed verification in the Second Rzeczpospolita. In their view, Poles joined the Russian army to use at an opportune moment the experience they gained for the good of their homeland. According to Caban, however, they enlisted mainly out of material motives. Based on archival queries, he concluded that, in general, entering military schools from the Kingdom of Poland and partitioned territories were young individuals whose families found themselves in financial straits (Caban 2014: 205).
According to Oleg Matveyev, the phenomenon of the involvement of Poles serving in the Caucasus (the historian made his remarks concerning Poles in Black Sea Shore Line units, but it seems to me that nothing stands in the way of extending his observations to the entire Caucasus) in the fight against the mountaineers can be explained by cultural bilingualism. Through service in the armed forces of a multinational empire, they came to be a link between Russia and their homeland, Poland. For this reason, Polish soldiers in the Caucasus became the bearers, defenders, and builders of Russian statehood (
The presence of employees of Polish origin was evident in the tsarist administration, especially in Tiflis, where the administrative centre was located. Antoni Rehman, who resided in the Caucasus in the 1870s, wrote that the city was divided into three parts: European, Asian – inhabited mainly by Persians and Tartars5 – and German. The European part, then, was half inhabited by Russians, Poles, Germans, and French, and half by local Armenians and Georgians. The traveller noted: “Russians and Poles represent the local intelligentsia, remain almost without exception in government service and occupy high ranks as military and civil servants” (Rehman 1879: 7–8). In the eastern part of the Caucasus too however Poles made careers in administration, as can be seen in the case of Stanisław Despot-Zenowicz, who held the post of mayor of Baku for several years at the end of the 19th century (Chodubski 2005c: 73).
In addition to administrative and military personnel, geologists, engineers constructing roads, railways, and involved in the mining industry, architects, doctors, and teachers, among others, played a visible role in the Caucasus. However, they constituted a tool for the Russification of the region. The tsardom’s colonisation plans called for the settlement of as many Christians as possible to provide a “counterbalance” to Muslims, who – in the opinion of Russian officials – posed a threat due to their proximity to Muslim Persia and Ottoman Empire. It was for this reason that Poles, Czechs, Germans and, of course, Russians, representing intellectual professions, appeared in the Caucasus (Grigorašvili-Burakovskaya 2007: 196). They consolidated Russian power over the region.
I share Oleg Matveyev’s view that Poles usually adapted well within the Slavic environment of civil servants and military officers in the Caucasus, and built their identity not in opposition to the tsar and Russia, but through attachment to the Catholic religion and preservation of traditional values. Caban was of a similar mind to the Russian historian. This researcher believed that the sense of Polish identity should be looked at differently regarding recruits, the vast majority of whom were peasants, than regarding the educated exiled for political reasons. Fulfilling religious practice was important for both groups however (Caban 2001a: 737). Confirmation of such a state of affairs can be found in archival material. For example, concerning Polish soldiers in the Caucasus, Grotkowski stated that “religion speaks over nationality among them”, while about priests residing in the region that “[they] are bad Poles, completely sold out to Moscow” (Grotkowski 1846).
Because Poles built their identity around religion, the tsardom did not interfere (at least overtly) with the maintenance of Catholic practice by soldiers serving in the Caucasus. Occasionally, but not too often, symbolic support from state authorities for the construction of Catholic churches also occurred. For example, in the 1840s, Nicholas I added 40 roubles in gold to the 180 roubles already collected by Poles for the construction of a church in Pyatigorsk. At that time, this parish had about 130 parishioners, 90 of whom were Poles (Komaiszko 2015: 6). Catholicism was not openly combated in the eastern part of the Caucasus either. For example, it is known that Julian Surzycki, serving in the Absheron Regiment stationed in Deshlagar6 in which 300 to 500 Polish Catholics served, initiated the construction of a church. The tsarist authorities agreed to the idea and allocated the site, but did not support the project materially. Those involved had to cover the entire cost out of pocket, and the building was erected by their own hands, being completed in 1856 (W.D. 1882: 290).
In his memoirs, Gralewski wrote on the topic of Catholics, that in the Caucasus they consisted of Armenians and Poles, as well as a small number of Chaldeans. They possessed forty-seven houses of prayer, some of which were staffed by Polish and Armenian clergy alongside one another. Polish priests were sent to the Caucasus from Lithuanian and Ruthenian monasteries as military brigade chaplains. They performed the duties of parish priests at churches and received salaries equivalent to a captain’s pay. Gralewski also mentioned that occasionally Catholic priests took part in marches against the mountaineers alongside Orthodox ones (Gralewski 2015: 227).
Based on analyses of normative acts and correspondence, Caban made the observation that possibly all applications from commanders for the assignment of a chaplain were granted, albeit this constituted a lengthy bureaucratic process. The Ministry of War had to obtain the tsar’s approval on the matter in each instance. In October 1835, the tsar agreed with the position of the commander of the Separate Caucasian Corps that one Catholic priest be appointed for every five infantry brigades (Caban 2001a: 737–738).
Poles’ attachment to Catholicism in the Caucasus is, nonetheless, a very complicated subject. One may reference the aforementioned example of General Benedykt Kozłowski, who attended an Orthodox church and concealed his Catholic faith. This did not apply only to individuals who hoped for a military career and volunteered to serve. Abandoning Catholicism was also noticeable among political exiles. Here, Tadeusz Łada-Zabłocki, the best-known Polish-language poet residing in the Caucasus, can be mentioned first and foremost. At his trial, during which he was accused of participating in underground student associations, he expressed remorse, declared his attachment to Russia, and that he intended to convert to Orthodoxy (Filina/Ossowska 2007: 29). The religious affiliation of another well-known exile, Apolinary Rukiewicz, who chose a military career in the tsarist army, where he rose to the rank of major general, is also not entirely clear. Although he came from a Catholic family, he was buried in the Orthodox cemetery in Krasnodar per his own wishes (Rukevič 1914: 791).
Aleksander Sielicki, who studied the history of Poles in the Kuban, provided interesting information in his work. The historian found that they lived almost exclusively in towns. According to him, only two cases of Polish villages being founded in the region are known. One of these is Razdolnoye (located near Sochi), while the other is Temnolesskaya (now located in Apsheronsky District of Krasnodar Krai). Razdolnoye was founded by Polish relocatees from the partitioned territories. They arrived around 1870 mainly from the Kiev, Kharkov, and Podolia governorates, and by the 1870s and 1880s a portion of them had already converted to Orthodoxy. The second village, in turn, was founded in the 1860s, after the end of the Caucasian War. It was founded by Poles from Podolia Governorate at the invitation of the region’s authorities as part of a colonisation campaign to settle Christians in the Caucasus. In the case of the Temnolesskaya stanitsa, already the first generation would convert entirely to Orthodoxy (Selickij 2008: 6).
Sometimes attachment to national-religious values was manifested in the issue of choosing a spouse. It is noticeable that marriages between Polish men and Caucasian women were very rare. If they did occur, they were most often to Georgian women (Baranowski 1982: 288). A feature of the Polish element in the Caucasus was the preponderance of young men over women. Although the number of women increased over the years, finding a Polish wife was extremely difficult (according to official statistics, at the end of the 19th century in the Caucasus lived 68% Polish men and 32% Polish women, while 50 years earlier the percentage of men was even higher, with Gralewski mentioning that in 1848 there were 28,000 Poles in the Caucasus, of whom men accounted for 93% (Gralewski 2015: 562)). Candidates for spouses were therefore sought among women of foreign origin, with consequences for family life (Furier 2009: 214). Poles mostly married representatives of other Slavic groups (mainly Eastern Slavs), so children born in such unions (i.e. Catholic-Orthodox) had to be, according to the laws in force, Orthodox. This was a purely civil requirement, as this rule is not strictly applicable within the Orthodox Church. Irina Tsifanova, who analysed 19th-century marriages of Poles in the Caucasus, found that this was the reason behind Poles’ trying to nonetheless marry Catholic women. These, in turn, were not numerous enough in the region, hence the popularity of marrying Orthodox women. The most common model for such a family was Catholic husband and Orthodox wife and children. This quickly led to Russification, as the language spoken at home was Russian. Occasionally, the man would convert to Orthodoxy before marriage, which may have been related to a desire to facilitate a career in the army or administration. Much less often it was the Orthodox woman who converted to Catholicism before marriage (Cifanova 2007: 176–177). It is difficult to operate on any statistical data in this matter, and one can only rely on the individual cases documented by Tsifanova. Of course, it would be false to claim that Catholicism prevented a career in the tsarist army. The best example of this would be Lieutenant General Józef Reutt (Reut), one of those Poles who made their greatest career in the tsarist army while serving in the Caucasus. The exile Zygmunt Rewkowski characterised him as a Pole from Lithuania, distinguished in constant battles against the mountaineers, and at the same time a very devout Catholic (Rewkowski 2011a: 87).
It is extremely challenging methodologically to investigate the attachment of Poles residing in the region to Polishness. Given the paucity of research material, it is doubtful that it will ever be possible to analyse this issue holistically. An important source, but also one that is not representative of the entire community at the disposal of a contemporary researcher, is memoirs and epistolographic material (after all, the vast majority of Poles in the Caucasus were illiterate peasants). It should be stressed, however, that even in these materials the threads illuminating the attitudes to Polish culture and the “patriotism” of Poles residing in the Caucasus are not very numerous. One work that devotes space to them is Gralewski’s memoirs.7 He wrote on, among other things, the functioning of various circles intended to sustain Polish culture among soldiers. However, due to the lack of material, it is impossible to determine to what extent such phenomena were typical of the Polish community and contributed to containing Russification.
The contemporary researcher also has at his disposal materials suggesting that Poles were not unique in this respect and, similarly to other groups, were subject to denationalisation. This may be evidenced, for example, by letters from Poles residing in Georgia in the second half of the 19th century sent to periodicals published in Poland. In one such letter, the author stressed that Poles were ceasing to use their mother tongue and that even the Polish intelligentsia in Tiflis spoke very little Polish. Another, in turn, lamented to the editor: “Well, here in Tiflis we have only countrymen – and nothing else: no connectedness, no node, no institution, each person lives closed in on themselves”. In turn, a Polish newspaper correspondent lamented that the children of local middle-class Poles often do not know their mother tongue at all, and yet Polish teachers cannot find work. The Polish press also reported on the difficulties of organising a national life that could be a mainstay of Polishness, such as libraries. At the beginning of the 20th century, still, the author of one letter wrote: “We live here [i.e. in Tiflis – P.A.] very isolated, connecting little with one another, as we lack a focal point around which to gather”. This may indicate that the Polish intelligentsia in Tiflis was largely Russified, while for many it was only with the great wave of Polish affairs that arrived in the Caucasus during World War I that a return to Polishness and a discovery of national identity began (Woźniak 1991: 155–160). Before 1914–1918, it is difficult to find evidence that Poles living in the region were somehow exceptionally attached to their own culture or patriotism when compared to other groups. Tadeusz Wyganowski, who was constructing an oil pipeline in Transcaucasia from Baku to Batumi, had impressions similar to those of the authors of the letters cited above. In his memoirs, he wrote that Poles are very easily denationalised and that already the second generation loses its Polish character (Wyganowski 1907: 7, 20).
Some statistical data can also attest to the denationalisation of Poles in the Caucasus. For example, at the end of the 19th century, there were just over 3,000 Poles living in Tiflis, of whom 277 could read and write in Polish, while 1,884 could read and write in Russian. It is also difficult to find evidence of Poles’ active involvement in initiatives to preserve Polish culture and protect it against Russification. When a Polish school was established at St. Peter and St. Paul’s Church in Tiflis in 1901, it was attended by 80 pupils. The following year saw an increase to 105 pupils, but then a steady decline was observed, down to 61 pupils by 1906 (Mądzik 1987: 36, 69–70). In the following years, other such undertakings received even less attention. At the end of 1907 Poles succeeded in forming the association Polish House (Polski Dom), its main task being to promote the cultural development of all strata of Tiflis’ Polish population. The plan was to establish a library, a reading room, a bookshop, and a Polish school, and start publishing books. In 1909, the association had 84 members, but by 1910 there were only 11 left and only the library remained functioning (Woźniak 1991: 157–158).
Legitimising the lack of organisation of Polish life in the Caucasus, Andrzej Furier stated that Poles’ activity faced obstacles from the authorities (Furier 2009: 328). It is possible to partially agree with this assumption, particularly concerning the mid-19th century. However, when tsarist policy evolved at the end of the 19th century and ceased to be as restrictive as it had been in earlier decades, no sudden development of Polish organisations occurred in this period either. I explain this by the fact that Poles in the Caucasus felt comfortable in a Russian-speaking environment and did not feel the need to concern themselves with fostering Polish culture.
Pyotr Nesterov (1802–1854) suppressed the November Uprising in the Kingdom of Poland in 1831 and then served in the Caucasus. In 1842 he became commander of Vladikavkaz and in 1846 chief of the Vladikavkaz district. He reached the rank of lieutenant general.
Nikolai Yevdokimov (1804–1873) was the son of a serf, so his career in the tsarist army in the Caucasus exemplifies one of the most spectacular. He joined the military as a volunteer at the age of 16. He spent his entire service in the Caucasus, where he reached the rank of general and was awarded the title of graf for his combat merits.
Konstantin von Benckendorff (1817–1858) was a Russian major general who served in the Caucasus in the late 1830s and early 1840s. From 1847 to 1849 he held the position of military attaché in Berlin.
Wallenrodism – a term associated with the novel Konrad Wallenrod by Adam Mickiewicz. It denotes a man who pursues a lofty and noble goal by deception.
The Tatars were referred to as the Turkic people and the term should not be equated with ethnic Tatars.
Current Sergokala in Dagestan.
Gralewski devoted one of the chapters entirely to Poles living in the Caucasus (see Gralewski 2015: 534–587).