Posted: Wed Feb 01, 2012 3:31 pm
Post subject: Kwiatkowski Family:Adventures of a Soldier in His Early Life
Greetings!
I have recently discovered a short memoir written in 1870 by my GGGG Grandfather John Kwiatkowski. In it he describes some of his life leading up to his participation in the November Uprising of 1830-31. Here is what I know about him:
-According to U.S. Census Records he is born about 1810 in Poland
-Attends Kalisz military academy starting in 1826/27
-Takes part in November uprising as a member of the 4th Lancers. Captured at Boremel but escapes.
-After failure of the uprising he crosses into Austria where the authorities jail him.
-Sent to U.S. in 1833, immigration records show him landing in New York City.
-Ship records show him landing in Wilmington, North Carolina in 1835 where he gets a job as a newspaper printer. Sometime after this he moves to Raleigh, North Carolina and marries a local girl. Keeps his profession as a printer.
-Prints his memoir in 1870
-Died in 1906 in Hillsborough NC.
However, I don't know anything about his family, what his parents names were, where they lived, nothing. The memoir does have a few clues:
-Johns father was a officer during the Napoleonic wars and was wounded in 1813 and was discharged after that.
-John's mother died in 1831 after hearing (falsely) that her son had been killed in battle.
-Family may have been in the northern part of Poland as John and his father passed by the battlefield of Pultusk on their way to Warsaw.
So I'm really looking for any clues as the where the family was from and what John's parents names were. I've been looking for records for the military academy John went to, but I haven't had any luck. Anyone have any suggestions?
Will MacDonald
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Posted: Wed Feb 01, 2012 3:33 pm
Post subject: Here is the first part...
...of his memoir. Written in 1870 and published in North Carolina.
Adventures of a Soldier in His Early Life
A sketch of the Early Life and Adventures of John Kwiatkowski or Rosemond
Particularly in Poland, his Native country
Part First
In the month of December, 1813, while I was amusing myself with the falling of the snow, my mother entered the room. She came near where I was sitting and took me to a front room where I was received by the peasants of the village. Among them, I observed a very aged man with a prayer book in his hand. We all stood in silence until a sign was given by the aged man to kneel. I remember the end of the prayer. The aged man raised his arms and said: “O god, return our friend and master once more to his home!”
The prayer was ended and we were all seated at the table when my mother took from her bosom a letter which she had received that morning from my father. She read until she came to the word, “wounded.” She then folded the letter, and said: “My dear friends, I have invited you here this day to inform you of this letter I received this morning. He is wounded, and now he is lying in the hospital, in the city of Warsaw. He wrote this letter three months ago, but owning to so much disturbance and trouble in our country and the marches of the army, the mail has been stopped so I did not get it until today. As soon as he gains his strength, he will return home. And on the anniversary of his birthday and my son’s birthday and the day of his departure, which is three years ago, I thought to invite you with your wives and children to join with me in a humble petition to our Heavenly Father for the preservation of my husband’s life in battle.”
“I remember the very day,” said the old man, rising from his seat. “The very day my two sons went with him, in the same yard I parted with them. In the time of our Kosciuszko, when the old and young, armed with scythe-blades and spears compelled to leave home and hurry to defend the country. I was then the father of three children. I was then the father of three children. While parting, my two sons took me by the hand, and said: “Oh my father, who will give us bread when you get killed?” And my wife, while I was pressing my infant to my breast, asking: When will you return?” At last, I tore myself away from my family, and left them in the hands of God. After an absence of thirteen months, I returned once more to my family.”
“But, my two sons—they fell in the hands of their enemies. The tyrant washed his hands in their blood. Since my remembrance, we have never been at peace- Russia, Prussia, and Austria swore against our country. Our cities, towns, and villages are in flames, and who shall defend our motherland? Her children grow less and less, and our hills stream down with their blood. Mothers crying over the graves of their sons, and thousands of wives with infants at the breast, looking among the dead and wounded, ask where, oh where, is my husband and the father? Yet the blood-thirsty tyrant is not satisfied. He butchered all the peaceful inhabitants of the Pragua. He spared neither sex, age, nor condition. He took infants from their cradle on their spears, and dashed their brains out against the wall. But, my two boys!...” The old man began again about his sons, but this tears prevented him from speaking any more, and then he resumed his seat.
Gentle reader, it would be difficult to remember all the old man said, for I was that day only four years old, but in after years my mother related to my mother related to my father all that passed, and the speech the old man made.
After the old man’s speech, the villagers returned to their homes, and I went to my daily amusements, marching and mustering with my tin gun and sword about the house. While thus engaged, a servant entered and informed me of the arrival of my grandmother. I was very glad, as I very seldom had a chance of seeing her. I met her, kissed her hand and inquired about her health. Then my mother took her by the hand and led her to a chair. After a short conversation, she said to my mother, “ received your invitation, but on account of the deep snow I could not get here yesterday. You said you had received a letter from my son. Please, show it to me.” The letter was handed to her, and after reading it, she burst into tears; and exclaimed, “My son is wounded! Oh! How many children must I sacrifice to the tyrant? They have sucked the blood of one son, and now the other is wounded, and he may die, and the hour of his death be unknown to me.”
The conversation was carried on between my mother and grandmother til late in the night. The night was dreary, the whistling wind shaking the windows and breaking the silence of the night, only the lamp, now and then, showing its pale light over the room.
“I thought I heard the trumpet of the postilion,” said one of the servants, standing near the window. “I thought so,” said my mother, “but what do you think the diligence (meaning the traveling conveyance in that country, and the postilion, meaning the driver) would be on this road for?”
“Well if it is the diligence,” said my grandmother, “it must be on this road, for the trumpet could not be heard from the public road.”
The Trumpet hushed, and we all concluded that the diligence had taken the public road which was only two miles off, or that the wind had deceived our ears. Alll resumed their seats, and I requested to put myself to bed. Then the trumpet souned again, but sounded in front of our house, and the voice: “Hello!”
“What does that mean?” said my mother, trembling and holding my hand. “Wait my child,” said she. “You may go to bed directly.” My mother immediately ordered a servant with the lantern to go to the door to inquire what thaws the meaning of all this. He was met at the front door by the postilion. “Where is the lady of the house? I wish to see her.” The door was opened, and a postilion entered the room dressed in his uniform, a brass trumpet handing over his left shoulder. “Madame, an officer from the army wishes to stop here.” “An officer from the army? O, tell me whether he is my husband.”
“All I know Madame is one officer from the army wishes to stop here, and I wish his baggage removed as quickly as possible. My time is limited, and I must be at my station at my appointed hour.” A small trunk was brought into the room. “Heavens!” exclaimed my mother. “It is my husband’s name.”
I was led by my mother and grandmother to the parlor. We formed a line at the door. An officer entered on crutches. He stopped and bowed to those waiting to receive him, and said, “Thanks be to God. I am at home once more.”
“Oh! This is my son whom I have shed so many tears for,” said my grandmother.
“My husband? Oh , come my child, this is your father.” She took me in her arms, and I was clasped between two lover hearts.
“How happy is the soldier when he returns to his peaceful and happy home, to the wife of his bosom, and the children of his love,” said the postilion.
My mother ordered some refreshments for the postilion , which he partook of, and left the house. I , playing with my father’s mustaches, fell to sleep on my father’s bosom.
In the morning, I was awakened by the villagers who came wishing my father joy on his return home, inquiring about his health and the gangers he had passed through in his absence. The whole day was spent in festivity and amusements, which was given to the villagers in honor of my father’s return home.
Soon after, my father asked and obtained a dismissal from the army, on account of his wound. An then, surrounded by his family and friends, in after years, he would tell us about the wars and misfortunes of his country.
Part Second
While I was advancing towards my thirteenth year, my father wished to put me to the military school, and train me up for the army, but my mother wished to see me brought up to the Church, to preach the gospel. A dispute arose between my parents, which was given up by them to me to decide. The question was put to me-soldier or minister of God? They would both submit to my decision, and the day was appointed for my answer.
The day came, and my grandparents arrived to hear my decision. I was called to a separate apartment, where I found them all awaiting my appearance. After a few remarks from my father, he wished to hear my answer in the presence of my grandparents.
“My dear father: I have never disobeyed you in my life. I have been a dutiful son. I love and respect your commands. My mother often told me. ‘God loved little children,’ and I wish to be his child and obey his commands. You told me: ‘God preserved you in all your battles, and I wish to be thankful, and pray always for his protection and guidance through life.’ I remember and never shall I forget the day of prayer, by the peasants, at his house for your safe return. I was kneeling with my face towards the crucifix, beside my mother. I felt in my little heart that you would return, and you did return. My dear father, I am willing to renounce the pleasures of this world, to spend my life in the service of God, but I cheerfully submit to your will.”
“I am pleased with you answer, my son,” said my father. And then turning to my grandparents: “My desire was to send him to the military school. As our country affairs are not settled yet, our people are trampled underfoot by our enemies and oh, that I may live to see our sons take revenge for their fathers; but as it is his desire to follow the church, and become a minister of the Gospel, I will employ a teacher to instruct him in the Latin language. But remember, my son, you can love and serve God in fighting the battles of your country or in any other situation in life.”
My mother stepped towards me and took me by the hand, and kissed my forehead, and said, “I am happy my son, to hear from your own lips that you are wishing to serve your God all your life, and may God bless and protect you through life!”
Soon after, the necessary books were procured, a teacher was employed, and by the encouragement of my mother, I advanced pretty well in my studies.
My father knew the people would rise to arms again. He knew they were too much oppressed by the invaders and the new laws, and the hated the Russian in his heart. Whenever he spoke, it was of revenge, and many times in the absence of my mother, he told me I would be shut up in some monastery or some other place.
In the spring of 1824, my father received a letter from my uncle, then I the city of Warsaw, requesting him to send me to the city to continue my studies in some of the schools or colleges, in that I could improve better than at home; that he had no children, and that my school should be of no expense to my father. He had a large fortune and was willing to pay all expenses. My father was willing to grant his request, but my mother was against it on account of the distance, but after a great deal of persuasion from my father and myself, she consented to the journey. In twelve months, I was to be sure to return to my home. I promised.
The day was set to commence my journey. My grandparents and many of my friends came to bid me adieu. I was lead by my mother to the vehicle that was to convey me to the city, followed by my friends and even my little dog, catching me now and then by the feet as if to prevent my going, and when I was seated, I looked towards the ground and saw my little puppy looking at me as pitifully as if he knew I was going to leave them. “My dear mother, remember my little Komor while I am gone.” The words were given to start he journey, and I heard only cries in the yard.
On our way, my father showed me the town of Pultusk, where the French slew the Russians. He stopped and glanced over the field, and said, “The regiment where I was, was on the same road where we are now. We entered the town driving the Russians from all quarters.” As we advanced slowly, my father stopped at another place to show me where the French Army divided the Russians, where they were in masses, and entered with their bayonets into the hear t of the Russians’ squares. And soon I discovered that the pat time had made a great impression on the hold soldier’s feelings.
The next day, we entered the city of Warsaw. I was charmed with the magnificent palaces and churches, the large and splendid gardens with their beautiful walks and fountain, their handsome fences and gilded roads about ten feet in diameter, with the large numbers of persons passing each and every way. Everything was novel and pleasant to me. I told my father that the people of the city must be very happy. They dress handsomely and do nothing but walk about. My father smiled at my ignorance, and answered, “They have different occupations to make their living without sowing or plowing.”
After a short time, we stopped in front of a large house. “This is the residence of your uncle.” We entered and were met by my good uncle and aunt. They soon knew us and made us welcome. They invited us into the parlor, where my aunt expressed in the presence of my father her promises of kindness, and told my father she would take great care of me, and be a mother to me. In about a week, my father left for home, and left me in the care of my uncle and aunt.
But I soon grew tired of my new home, the splendid buildings and all other objects that delighted me so much at first. “Oh!” thought I. “There is no place like home. I would not give my father’s peaceful little village in exchanged for the remainder of this noisy world.”
The thought of home filled my mind with sorrows. Because I could not see my mother, tears would fill my eyes whenever I turned towards my home, and my only consolation was that I should soon return home, but such a distance was no so easily gone over. In about twelve months, my father paid me a visit with the expectation of carrying me home with him to see my mother. He found me very sick, and by the advice of my physician, he was compelled to leave me for another twelve months.
Shortly after my father departed, I recovered my health perfectly, but began to decline in my studies of Latin and Greek. My whole thought was turned from study to the military school, and many times I wished I had chosen the military service instead of the ministry for my future occupation. I visited the military square. There I saw the soldiers dressed in their handsome uniforms and how they moved as machinery. As the Russian prince, Constantine, was the chief of the Polish army, I thought it was a shame that he should have the command over our soldiers and the authority over the civil people. He brought over with him 12,000 Russian troops for his own safeguard, and lodged them in our city, and his tyrannical cruelties over our citizens were without parallel. My feelings were wounded, and my blood boiled in my veins to see our citizens dragged through the streets chained to wheelbarrows, as a disgrace. Oh! Many times my father’s voice sounded in my ear: “Vengeance, vengeance for my country!”
One evening I was sitting with my uncle in the piazza, when the Russian prince came thundering along the street, his chariot drawn by four horses. He looked like the God of War. We arose from our seats and took off our hats. All persons passing at the time were compelled to do the same or be punished. We resumed our seats. I turned to my uncle: “How long must we pay honor to that tyrant?”
“My dear nephew, you must be very cautious how you speak. You must know that we are surrounded by spies, and it seems to me that they know even our thoughts, and be particular in our speeches, as there are numbers groaning in dungeons, for political offences.”
I thought now it was my time to unfold my secret to my uncle, and tell him my desire, that is to change my college for the military school.
My uncle told me that the school for cadets was situated nearly two hundred miles from Warsaw, but he would inform my father of my wish, and if he were willing, it would be easy to arrange the other part. In about three weeks my uncle received a letter from my father expressing himself perfectly satisfied with the alteration of my mind, and was very much pleased.
In the month of January 1826, I left the city of Warsaw for Kalisz where I was received by the military authority as a cadet. I was very much pleased, but found my task rather severe, on account of the military discipline. I found it was not all pleasure without being attended with some pain.
Two years elapsed. I sent a petition to the authorities to get permission to visit my parents. It was granted. But to my misfortune, before I was ready to start, about forty of us playing on the yard came near to large piles of logs which had been held for the use of our school. We divided our number in two halves, half enemies and half friends, or defenders of the battery. (That kind of amusement we followed very often, and then we used to draw the tickets who will be captain.) I drew mine with the name “captain” and then I was appointed of the defenders. We entered our battery with our sticks and long rods. Our enemies commenced their march by forming platoons. I observed that our opponents’ motive was to surround first and attack us from both sides. I ordered eight of my colleagues to strengthen the left side of the battery and to keep the enemy from getting around, but hey soon came off disarmed, and the enemy attacked us both in front and side, and with hurrah and shouting, became the masters of our battery. We retired to another, and I told the captain he should not take that one from us as easily as he did the other. He said he could take it from me by himself, from such a captain as I was. I dared him and told him I was ready to defend this battery alone. He left his battery and succeeded in getting about half way on mine. I pushed him down with my stick. He declared that he would whip me and it would be understood that another battery was taken, and he intended to do it. He advance, and as he came near to me so I could reach him with my stick, I unfortunately struck him in the eye and put it out, and then he battle was ended.
According to military discipline, I was put in prison, and on the next day I was tried before a court martial, which fined me six weeks imprisonment on bread and water. My visit home was postponed.
Near the end of the year 1830, I was awaiting patiently for my permission, and during my leisure hours fixing in my mind how I should beg my mother’s pardon. I knew I had disobeyed her. I had broken my promise to her. I had grieved her, but I knew she was my mother, and she wished to see me, that she would forget and forgive all, for she was a loving and tender parent.
One day, while sitting with my young companions and speaking about my home, a courier arrived, and a postilion with the white and red cockade attached to his hat announced that a revolution had taken place in the city of Warsaw, and Prince Constantine had been driven from the city of Warsaw along with his troops. His cockade convinced us that it was truth. We left our seats shouting Liberty! Liberty! Running out in the street, but near the guardhouse, we were seized and put in prison, but did not remain there long when we heard the sound of cannon proclaim the good news, and thousands of voices: “Hurrah for Liberty!” Our prison door flew open, and an officer of the guard standing at the door informed us of the fact, and then told us to come out from prison, and that the tyrant had no longer power to imprison Polish children.
In a short time a courier brought a dispatch from the provisional government that the old soldiers which had served their time were compelled to return back to the regiments, and the cadets such as were able to bear arms, distribute them among the different regiments, or send them as instructors to new regiments. I , with the wish to see my parents before I went into service, requested to be sent to the city of Warsaw, and then take the service in my regular regiment.
In the month of January, 1831 I arrived at the city of Warsaw, I inquired of my uncle if there would be any chance to visit my parents. He asked for permission, but it was too late, as there were 200,000 Russians marching towards Poland, under the command of General Paskiewicz, Prince Constantine and his brother Prince Michael, and part of it had already crossed the frontier. According to my wish, I was appointed to the 4th Regiment of Lancers and under the command of General Dwernicki, we received orders to march to the field of battle, leaving our beautiful city, amid the farewells, cries and good wishes from the ladies who stood at their windows to witness our departure.
We first met our enemies at the place called Stoczek. We gave them battle, taking eleven cannon, and drove them back. In the second battle, we took four more cannons, and beat them back again. In the third battle, I was more encouraged, and as soon as the command given by the Adjutant for squadrons to advance near the town, we left our place with the noise, “We want more cannons.” I was only about 30 steps from the mouths of the two cannons when they were discharged with the grape shot. They took aim too high, and balls flew like hailstones over our heads without touching our men. We took the town of Kurow, and the citizens rejoiced in seeing their own soldiers in the heart of their town. “Our boys! Our Soldiers! They have just left this place. They run like sheep. Go, Go! You will overtake them.”
And about two hundred of us, encouraged especially by the voices of the ladies, started in pursuit. We soon overtook them. They led us out of town, and then the enemy let loose at us upon every side. My horse got killed, but fortunately fell near a ditch. I rolled into the ditch, and there remained waiting for better times. At the approach our infantry they soon fled, leaving two more cannons in our possession.
One day, while resting from long marches, we received glorious news from our main army about the great battle at Grohow, the great triumph of the Polish over the Russian army, the Russians’ retreat-leaving 30,000 killed and 35,000 prisoners, 60 cannons, and a large quantity of ammunition. It was rejoicing news to every true Pole and to every true son of his country. Shouting and throwing our caps in the air, with martial music and a national song, Poland Yet Not Lost, we left the place for the fort called Zamosc.
There we suffered a great deal on account of a wet and cold spring. We were without shelters, and deep in the mud. Many times when the soldier awakened from his slumber, he found himself covered in snow. Ravages of cholera swept through our men daily. After four weeks encampment, we left our dreadful place on Easter Sunday towards Wolhinia.
We had been successful in pursuing our enemy and taking from them their cannons. The corps we had to combat with was commanded by Prince Virtemberg. We beat him in every point, and drove him to the frontiers of Wolhinia.
In the spring of the same year, our army consisting only of six thousand strong and six pieces of artillery, crossed early in the morning the river Bug to the Russian dominions of ancient Poland. The inhabitants of Wolhinia received us very kindly and offered their assistance, expressing to our general that they had been long in bondage, and should be thankful to God to be delivered. Our march lasted nearly one week, and then we encamped near the town of Boremel and there awaited the approach of the enemy as they were on their march to the frontier of Poland, on their return from a campaign against the Turks, and were commanded by General Rytygier, 30,000 strong.
On a Monday morning our infantry crossed a small stream, and there they were met by the Russians. They opened a heavy fire upon our infantry which lasted nearly one hour. The Poles being less I number retreated slowly to the bridge, and they stopped the Russian’s advancing columns by a discharge of our artillery. There was but little harm done on either side. The next day, the enemy succeeded in crossing the stream and planted their cannons according to their wish, and about twelve o’clock the command was given. And the command was given with the expectation that we would take to flight, pouring their fire from cannon all at once. The air was thick with ball, but that did not frighten us; it made us mad. We stood like a wall unbroken. The handful of Poles opened the fire by companies, the smoke arose on the left wing with the dust, and there could be heard a thousand noises. “Hurrah, Hurrah! Charge! Charge!” and our cavalry struck against the Russian Hussars, like cloud against cloud, the swords of the Hussars flashed against our lances. The Russians commenced falling back. They again tried with their infantry, cavalry and artillery, when every one of our soldiers, covered with their sweat, defending his position made read to fall back before the overwhelming enemies. But yet kind Providence was not willing for us to be slain. A heavy cloud arose on the opposite side where ht Russian columns advanced, and the rain which poured upon them prevented then enemy’s infantry from acting nearly half an hour, while our infantry was engaged all that time, and the Russian masses commended falling back.
Our general stood in front of his army with his cap in his hand. “Soldiers!” said he, addressing the army. “I am happy this day that I have the honor of commanding you. Look before you. They fly before your bayonets!” As he spoke a cannonball fell under his horse, the horse jumped back, and threw his rider. Then the cry: “Our general is killed! Our father is dead!”
But he was not dead. He lifted up his head from the ground and cried: “Fight my children! Fight my Soldiers! I am alive yet!” The Russian red Hussars being near and seeing he was not dead and that his horse had left him, cried out, “Lovj, Lovj,” or “Catch him, Catch him.” They got near to him, when the squadron I belonged to shouted “Charge!” Then hundreds of Russians received our lances in their breasts. They commenced their retreat and fell in with their infantry, while we were in pursuit and piercing them with our lances. Soon their infantry recovered and poured balls upon us. They repeated it again. My horse began quivering and fell on his foreknees. I watch my falling horse, and was soon surrounded by the Russian grenadiers. The lance was knocked from my hand, and the grenadier leveled his bayonet at my breast, when I heard the word “plzaluy,” or “spare him.”…..
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 9:50 am
Post subject:
A sketch of the Early Life and Adventures of John Kwiatkowski or Rosemond ? Can you tell me what you meant here? Where did the Rosemond come from?
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 10:15 am
Post subject:
Jan Kwiatkowski, 1829 porucznik w korpusie kadetów w Kaliszu [Bon]
I found this on the following link and i have other links in Polish about the Korpus Kadetów w Kaliszu, however if you dont speak Polish you will find it extremely hard to read it without learning or help from someone else.
It may not be him as Jan is a popular first name and Kwiatkowski and common surname, there is many on the link, about 123 came up on the search there.
http://www.genealogia.okiem.pl/kwiatkowski.htm
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 10:25 am
Post subject:
That's the title of the memoir as he wrote it. He changed his name from Kwiatkowski to Rosemond when he moved to the United States. He also left the Catholic Church to become an Episcopalian (aka the Anglican Church) He did these things to better blend in with the mostly English, Scots-Irish, and German population of the U.S at the time. This allowed him to prosper in the U.S. when there was a very anti-immigrant attitude in the country.
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 10:50 am
Post subject:
Strange thing for someone supposedly so Patriotic with such a history to do..... Do you have anything the records about his Rank in 1830? And also do you know if his Father took part in 1830 again? It did say that veterans were also called to fight.....
Another Porucznik(Liutenant) Jan Kwiatkowski here of the cadets in Kalisz:
Kwiatkowski Dominik , major p. 1 strz. p. L. H. 1819-1820.
Kwiatkowski Jan , por. korp. kadet. w Kaliszu. 1815-1830.
Kwiatkowski Piotr , podpor. weter. czyn. 1826-1830.
Kwiatkowski Tomasz , por. p. 4 strz. k. VM zł. L. H. 1815-1821.
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 11:15 am
Post subject:
It's very common for immigrants to the U.S. (from any country) to "Anglicize" their names, particularity before 1900. If I remember correctly, Kwiat means "Flower" in Polish, so "Rose" would be natural way for someone to make their name better understood in English....
I don't know his rank, only his unit: Captain Wydzga's company of the 4th Lancers Regiment
BTW, here is the church where he is buried: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GSln=Rosemond&GSbyrel=all&GSdy=1906&GSdyrel=in&GSob=n&GRid=44541795&df=all&
From what I can tell, John's father didn't fight in the uprising, he had been wounded badly in 1813 so he may have been unable to fight because of his old wounds.
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Posted: Tue Sep 18, 2012 2:51 pm
Post subject: Military Rosters for the Duchy of Warsaw
Greetings!
I am looking for a roster of officers from the Army of the Duchy of Warsaw. My GGGGG Grandfather Kwiatkowski was an officer (not an enlisted man) in the army and was wounded in the fall of 1813. His wounds forced him out of the army in early 1814. I know very little about him except what was passed on in a memoir published by his son, who had been exiled to the United States after the November Uprising.
Will MacDonald
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Posted: Wed Sep 19, 2012 6:54 am
Post subject: Re: Kwiatkowski on rosters
Andre,
The Jan Kwiatkowski at the Military School is my GGGG Grandfather, the son of the man who I am looking for. Jan is the one who wrote the memoir[/img]
This is the first part of the memoir:
Adventures of a Soldier in His Early Life
A sketch of the Early Life and Adventures of John Kwiatkowski or Rosemond
Particularly in Poland, his Native country
Part First
In the month of December, 1813, while I was amusing myself with the falling of the snow, my mother entered the room. She came near where I was sitting and took me to a front room where I was received by the peasants of the village. Among them, I observed a very aged man with a prayer book in his hand. We all stood in silence until a sign was given by the aged man to kneel. I remember the end of the prayer. The aged man raised his arms and said: “O god, return our friend and master once more to his home!”
The prayer was ended and we were all seated at the table when my mother took from her bosom a letter which she had received that morning from my father. She read until she came to the word, “wounded.” She then folded the letter, and said: “My dear friends, I have invited you here this day to inform you of this letter I received this morning. He is wounded, and now he is lying in the hospital, in the city of Warsaw. He wrote this letter three months ago, but owning to so much disturbance and trouble in our country and the marches of the army, the mail has been stopped so I did not get it until today. As soon as he gains his strength, he will return home. And on the anniversary of his birthday and my son’s birthday and the day of his departure, which is three years ago, I thought to invite you with your wives and children to join with me in a humble petition to our Heavenly Father for the preservation of my husband’s life in battle.”
“I remember the very day,” said the old man, rising from his seat. “The very day my two sons went with him, in the same yard I parted with them. In the time of our Kosciuszko, when the old and young, armed with scythe-blades and spears compelled to leave home and hurry to defend the country. I was then the father of three children. I was then the father of three children. While parting, my two sons took me by the hand, and said: “Oh my father, who will give us bread when you get killed?” And my wife, while I was pressing my infant to my breast, asking: When will you return?” At last, I tore myself away from my family, and left them in the hands of God. After an absence of thirteen months, I returned once more to my family.”
“But, my two sons—they fell in the hands of their enemies. The tyrant washed his hands in their blood. Since my remembrance, we have never been at peace- Russia, Prussia, and Austria swore against our country. Our cities, towns, and villages are in flames, and who shall defend our motherland? Her children grow less and less, and our hills stream down with their blood. Mothers crying over the graves of their sons, and thousands of wives with infants at the breast, looking among the dead and wounded, ask where, oh where, is my husband and the father? Yet the blood-thirsty tyrant is not satisfied. He butchered all the peaceful inhabitants of the Pragua. He spared neither sex, age, nor condition. He took infants from their cradle on their spears, and dashed their brains out against the wall. But, my two boys!...” The old man began again about his sons, but this tears prevented him from speaking any more, and then he resumed his seat.
Gentle reader, it would be difficult to remember all the old man said, for I was that day only four years old, but in after years my mother related to my mother related to my father all that passed, and the speech the old man made.
After the old man’s speech, the villagers returned to their homes, and I went to my daily amusements, marching and mustering with my tin gun and sword about the house. While thus engaged, a servant entered and informed me of the arrival of my grandmother. I was very glad, as I very seldom had a chance of seeing her. I met her, kissed her hand and inquired about her health. Then my mother took her by the hand and led her to a chair. After a short conversation, she said to my mother, “ received your invitation, but on account of the deep snow I could not get here yesterday. You said you had received a letter from my son. Please, show it to me.” The letter was handed to her, and after reading it, she burst into tears; and exclaimed, “My son is wounded! Oh! How many children must I sacrifice to the tyrant? They have sucked the blood of one son, and now the other is wounded, and he may die, and the hour of his death be unknown to me.”
The conversation was carried on between my mother and grandmother til late in the night. The night was dreary, the whistling wind shaking the windows and breaking the silence of the night, only the lamp, now and then, showing its pale light over the room.
“I thought I heard the trumpet of the postilion,” said one of the servants, standing near the window. “I thought so,” said my mother, “but what do you think the diligence (meaning the traveling conveyance in that country, and the postilion, meaning the driver) would be on this road for?”
“Well if it is the diligence,” said my grandmother, “it must be on this road, for the trumpet could not be heard from the public road.”
The Trumpet hushed, and we all concluded that the diligence had taken the public road which was only two miles off, or that the wind had deceived our ears. Alll resumed their seats, and I requested to put myself to bed. Then the trumpet souned again, but sounded in front of our house, and the voice: “Hello!”
“What does that mean?” said my mother, trembling and holding my hand. “Wait my child,” said she. “You may go to bed directly.” My mother immediately ordered a servant with the lantern to go to the door to inquire what thaws the meaning of all this. He was met at the front door by the postilion. “Where is the lady of the house? I wish to see her.” The door was opened, and a postilion entered the room dressed in his uniform, a brass trumpet handing over his left shoulder. “Madame, an officer from the army wishes to stop here.” “An officer from the army? O, tell me whether he is my husband.”
“All I know Madame is one officer from the army wishes to stop here, and I wish his baggage removed as quickly as possible. My time is limited, and I must be at my station at my appointed hour.” A small trunk was brought into the room. “Heavens!” exclaimed my mother. “It is my husband’s name.”
I was led by my mother and grandmother to the parlor. We formed a line at the door. An officer entered on crutches. He stopped and bowed to those waiting to receive him, and said, “Thanks be to God. I am at home once more.”
“Oh! This is my son whom I have shed so many tears for,” said my grandmother.
“My husband? Oh , come my child, this is your father.” She took me in her arms, and I was clasped between two lover hearts.
“How happy is the soldier when he returns to his peaceful and happy home, to the wife of his bosom, and the children of his love,” said the postilion.
My mother ordered some refreshments for the postilion , which he partook of, and left the house. I , playing with my father’s mustaches, fell to sleep on my father’s bosom.
In the morning, I was awakened by the villagers who came wishing my father joy on his return home, inquiring about his health and the gangers he had passed through in his absence. The whole day was spent in festivity and amusements, which was given to the villagers in honor of my father’s return home.
Soon after, my father asked and obtained a dismissal from the army, on account of his wound. An then, surrounded by his family and friends, in after years, he would tell us about the wars and misfortunes of his country.
Part Second
While I was advancing towards my thirteenth year, my father wished to put me to the military school, and train me up for the army, but my mother wished to see me brought up to the Church, to preach the gospel. A dispute arose between my parents, which was given up by them to me to decide. The question was put to me-soldier or minister of God? They would both submit to my decision, and the day was appointed for my answer.
The day came, and my grandparents arrived to hear my decision. I was called to a separate apartment, where I found them all awaiting my appearance. After a few remarks from my father, he wished to hear my answer in the presence of my grandparents.
“My dear father: I have never disobeyed you in my life. I have been a dutiful son. I love and respect your commands. My mother often told me. ‘God loved little children,’ and I wish to be his child and obey his commands. You told me: ‘God preserved you in all your battles, and I wish to be thankful, and pray always for his protection and guidance through life.’ I remember and never shall I forget the day of prayer, by the peasants, at his house for your safe return. I was kneeling with my face towards the crucifix, beside my mother. I felt in my little heart that you would return, and you did return. My dear father, I am willing to renounce the pleasures of this world, to spend my life in the service of God, but I cheerfully submit to your will.”
“I am pleased with you answer, my son,” said my father. And then turning to my grandparents: “My desire was to send him to the military school. As our country affairs are not settled yet, our people are trampled underfoot by our enemies and oh, that I may live to see our sons take revenge for their fathers; but as it is his desire to follow the church, and become a minister of the Gospel, I will employ a teacher to instruct him in the Latin language. But remember, my son, you can love and serve God in fighting the battles of your country or in any other situation in life.”
My mother stepped towards me and took me by the hand, and kissed my forehead, and said, “I am happy my son, to hear from your own lips that you are wishing to serve your God all your life, and may God bless and protect you through life!”
Soon after, the necessary books were procured, a teacher was employed, and by the encouragement of my mother, I advanced pretty well in my studies.
My father knew the people would rise to arms again. He knew they were too much oppressed by the invaders and the new laws, and the hated the Russian in his heart. Whenever he spoke, it was of revenge, and many times in the absence of my mother, he told me I would be shut up in some monastery or some other place.
In the spring of 1824, my father received a letter from my uncle, then I the city of Warsaw, requesting him to send me to the city to continue my studies in some of the schools or colleges, in that I could improve better than at home; that he had no children, and that my school should be of no expense to my father. He had a large fortune and was willing to pay all expenses. My father was willing to grant his request, but my mother was against it on account of the distance, but after a great deal of persuasion from my father and myself, she consented to the journey. In twelve months, I was to be sure to return to my home. I promised.
The day was set to commence my journey. My grandparents and many of my friends came to bid me adieu. I was lead by my mother to the vehicle that was to convey me to the city, followed by my friends and even my little dog, catching me now and then by the feet as if to prevent my going, and when I was seated, I looked towards the ground and saw my little puppy looking at me as pitifully as if he knew I was going to leave them. “My dear mother, remember my little Komor while I am gone.” The words were given to start he journey, and I heard only cries in the yard.
On our way, my father showed me the town of Pultusk, where the French slew the Russians. He stopped and glanced over the field, and said, “The regiment where I was, was on the same road where we are now. We entered the town driving the Russians from all quarters.” As we advanced slowly, my father stopped at another place to show me where the French Army divided the Russians, where they were in masses, and entered with their bayonets into the hear t of the Russians’ squares. And soon I discovered that the pat time had made a great impression on the hold soldier’s feelings.
The next day, we entered the city of Warsaw. I was charmed with the magnificent palaces and churches, the large and splendid gardens with their beautiful walks and fountain, their handsome fences and gilded roads about ten feet in diameter, with the large numbers of persons passing each and every way. Everything was novel and pleasant to me. I told my father that the people of the city must be very happy. They dress handsomely and do nothing but walk about. My father smiled at my ignorance, and answered, “They have different occupations to make their living without sowing or plowing.”
After a short time, we stopped in front of a large house. “This is the residence of your uncle.” We entered and were met by my good uncle and aunt. They soon knew us and made us welcome. They invited us into the parlor, where my aunt expressed in the presence of my father her promises of kindness, and told my father she would take great care of me, and be a mother to me. In about a week, my father left for home, and left me in the care of my uncle and aunt.
But I soon grew tired of my new home, the splendid buildings and all other objects that delighted me so much at first. “Oh!” thought I. “There is no place like home. I would not give my father’s peaceful little village in exchanged for the remainder of this noisy world.”
The thought of home filled my mind with sorrows. Because I could not see my mother, tears would fill my eyes whenever I turned towards my home, and my only consolation was that I should soon return home, but such a distance was no so easily gone over. In about twelve months, my father paid me a visit with the expectation of carrying me home with him to see my mother. He found me very sick, and by the advice of my physician, he was compelled to leave me for another twelve months.
Shortly after my father departed, I recovered my health perfectly, but began to decline in my studies of Latin and Greek. My whole thought was turned from study to the military school, and many times I wished I had chosen the military service instead of the ministry for my future occupation. I visited the military square. There I saw the soldiers dressed in their handsome uniforms and how they moved as machinery. As the Russian prince, Constantine, was the chief of the Polish army, I thought it was a shame that he should have the command over our soldiers and the authority over the civil people. He brought over with him 12,000 Russian troops for his own safeguard, and lodged them in our city, and his tyrannical cruelties over our citizens were without parallel. My feelings were wounded, and my blood boiled in my veins to see our citizens dragged through the streets chained to wheelbarrows, as a disgrace. Oh! Many times my father’s voice sounded in my ear: “Vengeance, vengeance for my country!”
One evening I was sitting with my uncle in the piazza, when the Russian prince came thundering along the street, his chariot drawn by four horses. He looked like the God of War. We arose from our seats and took off our hats. All persons passing at the time were compelled to do the same or be punished. We resumed our seats. I turned to my uncle: “How long must we pay honor to that tyrant?”
“My dear nephew, you must be very cautious how you speak. You must know that we are surrounded by spies, and it seems to me that they know even our thoughts, and be particular in our speeches, as there are numbers groaning in dungeons, for political offences.”
I thought now it was my time to unfold my secret to my uncle, and tell him my desire, that is to change my college for the military school.
My uncle told me that the school for cadets was situated nearly two hundred miles from Warsaw, but he would inform my father of my wish, and if he were willing, it would be easy to arrange the other part. In about three weeks my uncle received a letter from my father expressing himself perfectly satisfied with the alteration of my mind, and was very much pleased.
In the month of January 1826, I left the city of Warsaw for Kalisz where I was received by the military authority as a cadet. I was very much pleased, but found my task rather severe, on account of the military discipline. I found it was not all pleasure without being attended with some pain.
Two years elapsed. I sent a petition to the authorities to get permission to visit my parents. It was granted. But to my misfortune, before I was ready to start, about forty of us playing on the yard came near to large piles of logs which had been held for the use of our school. We divided our number in two halves, half enemies and half friends, or defenders of the battery. (That kind of amusement we followed very often, and then we used to draw the tickets who will be captain.) I drew mine with the name “captain” and then I was appointed of the defenders. We entered our battery with our sticks and long rods. Our enemies commenced their march by forming platoons. I observed that our opponents’ motive was to surround first and attack us from both sides. I ordered eight of my colleagues to strengthen the left side of the battery and to keep the enemy from getting around, but hey soon came off disarmed, and the enemy attacked us both in front and side, and with hurrah and shouting, became the masters of our battery. We retired to another, and I told the captain he should not take that one from us as easily as he did the other. He said he could take it from me by himself, from such a captain as I was. I dared him and told him I was ready to defend this battery alone. He left his battery and succeeded in getting about half way on mine. I pushed him down with my stick. He declared that he would whip me and it would be understood that another battery was taken, and he intended to do it. He advance, and as he came near to me so I could reach him with my stick, I unfortunately struck him in the eye and put it out, and then he battle was ended.
According to military discipline, I was put in prison, and on the next day I was tried before a court martial, which fined me six weeks imprisonment on bread and water. My visit home was postponed.
Near the end of the year 1830, I was awaiting patiently for my permission, and during my leisure hours fixing in my mind how I should beg my mother’s pardon. I knew I had disobeyed her. I had broken my promise to her. I had grieved her, but I knew she was my mother, and she wished to see me, that she would forget and forgive all, for she was a loving and tender parent.
One day, while sitting with my young companions and speaking about my home, a courier arrived, and a postilion with the white and red cockade attached to his hat announced that a revolution had taken place in the city of Warsaw, and Prince Constantine had been driven from the city of Warsaw along with his troops. His cockade convinced us that it was truth. We left our seats shouting Liberty! Liberty! Running out in the street, but near the guardhouse, we were seized and put in prison, but did not remain there long when we heard the sound of cannon proclaim the good news, and thousands of voices: “Hurrah for Liberty!” Our prison door flew open, and an officer of the guard standing at the door informed us of the fact, and then told us to come out from prison, and that the tyrant had no longer power to imprison Polish children.
In a short time a courier brought a dispatch from the provisional government that the old soldiers which had served their time were compelled to return back to the regiments, and the cadets such as were able to bear arms, distribute them among the different regiments, or send them as instructors to new regiments. I , with the wish to see my parents before I went into service, requested to be sent to the city of Warsaw, and then take the service in my regular regiment.
In the month of January, 1831 I arrived at the city of Warsaw, I inquired of my uncle if there would be any chance to visit my parents. He asked for permission, but it was too late, as there were 200,000 Russians marching towards Poland, under the command of General Paskiewicz, Prince Constantine and his brother Prince Michael, and part of it had already crossed the frontier. According to my wish, I was appointed to the 4th Regiment of Lancers and under the command of General Dwernicki, we received orders to march to the field of battle, leaving our beautiful city, amid the farewells, cries and good wishes from the ladies who stood at their windows to witness our departure.
We first met our enemies at the place called Stoczek. We gave them battle, taking eleven cannon, and drove them back. In the second battle, we took four more cannons, and beat them back again. In the third battle, I was more encouraged, and as soon as the command given by the Adjutant for squadrons to advance near the town, we left our place with the noise, “We want more cannons.” I was only about 30 steps from the mouths of the two cannons when they were discharged with the grape shot. They took aim too high, and balls flew like hailstones over our heads without touching our men. We took the town of Kurow, and the citizens rejoiced in seeing their own soldiers in the heart of their town. “Our boys! Our Soldiers! They have just left this place. They run like sheep. Go, Go! You will overtake them.”
And about two hundred of us, encouraged especially by the voices of the ladies, started in pursuit. We soon overtook them. They led us out of town, and then the enemy let loose at us upon every side. My horse got killed, but fortunately fell near a ditch. I rolled into the ditch, and there remained waiting for better times. At the approach our infantry they soon fled, leaving two more cannons in our possession.
One day, while resting from long marches, we received glorious news from our main army about the great battle at Grohow, the great triumph of the Polish over the Russian army, the Russians’ retreat-leaving 30,000 killed and 35,000 prisoners, 60 cannons, and a large quantity of ammunition. It was rejoicing news to every true Pole and to every true son of his country. Shouting and throwing our caps in the air, with martial music and a national song, Poland Yet Not Lost, we left the place for the fort called Zamosc.
There we suffered a great deal on account of a wet and cold spring. We were without shelters, and deep in the mud. Many times when the soldier awakened from his slumber, he found himself covered in snow. Ravages of cholera swept through our men daily. After four weeks encampment, we left our dreadful place on Easter Sunday towards Wolhinia.
We had been successful in pursuing our enemy and taking from them their cannons. The corps we had to combat with was commanded by Prince Virtemberg. We beat him in every point, and drove him to the frontiers of Wolhinia.
In the spring of the same year, our army consisting only of six thousand strong and six pieces of artillery, crossed early in the morning the river Bug to the Russian dominions of ancient Poland. The inhabitants of Wolhinia received us very kindly and offered their assistance, expressing to our general that they had been long in bondage, and should be thankful to God to be delivered. Our march lasted nearly one week, and then we encamped near the town of Boremel and there awaited the approach of the enemy as they were on their march to the frontier of Poland, on their return from a campaign against the Turks, and were commanded by General Rytygier, 30,000 strong.
On a Monday morning our infantry crossed a small stream, and there they were met by the Russians. They opened a heavy fire upon our infantry which lasted nearly one hour. The Poles being less I number retreated slowly to the bridge, and they stopped the Russian’s advancing columns by a discharge of our artillery. There was but little harm done on either side. The next day, the enemy succeeded in crossing the stream and planted their cannons according to their wish, and about twelve o’clock the command was given. And the command was given with the expectation that we would take to flight, pouring their fire from cannon all at once. The air was thick with ball, but that did not frighten us; it made us mad. We stood like a wall unbroken. The handful of Poles opened the fire by companies, the smoke arose on the left wing with the dust, and there could be heard a thousand noises. “Hurrah, Hurrah! Charge! Charge!” and our cavalry struck against the Russian Hussars, like cloud against cloud, the swords of the Hussars flashed against our lances. The Russians commenced falling back. They again tried with their infantry, cavalry and artillery, when every one of our soldiers, covered with their sweat, defending his position made read to fall back before the overwhelming enemies. But yet kind Providence was not willing for us to be slain. A heavy cloud arose on the opposite side where ht Russian columns advanced, and the rain which poured upon them prevented then enemy’s infantry from acting nearly half an hour, while our infantry was engaged all that time, and the Russian masses commended falling back.
Our general stood in front of his army with his cap in his hand. “Soldiers!” said he, addressing the army. “I am happy this day that I have the honor of commanding you. Look before you. They fly before your bayonets!” As he spoke a cannonball fell under his horse, the horse jumped back, and threw his rider. Then the cry: “Our general is killed! Our father is dead!”
But he was not dead. He lifted up his head from the ground and cried: “Fight my children! Fight my Soldiers! I am alive yet!” The Russian red Hussars being near and seeing he was not dead and that his horse had left him, cried out, “Lovj, Lovj,” or “Catch him, Catch him.” They got near to him, when the squadron I belonged to shouted “Charge!” Then hundreds of Russians received our lances in their breasts. They commenced their retreat and fell in with their infantry, while we were in pursuit and piercing them with our lances. Soon their infantry recovered and poured balls upon us. They repeated it again. My horse began quivering and fell on his foreknees. I watch my falling horse, and was soon surrounded by the Russian grenadiers. The lance was knocked from my hand, and the grenadier leveled his bayonet at my breast, when I heard the word “plzaluy,” or “spare him.”…..
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Posted: Sat Sep 22, 2012 11:16 am
Post subject: Warsaw Duchy officers 1807-1814
Hi,
In the Gembarzewski book "Warsaw Duchy 1807-1814" online on this link
http://www.dbc.wroc.pl/dlibra/publication?id=10483&tab=3
All the Kwiatkowski are listed
Kwiatkowski Dominik Second Lieutnant of the 1st Infantry Regiment promoted 5 July 1809
Kwiatkowski Jan (John) Second Lieutnant of the 2d Infantry Regiment
Kwiatkowski Maciej Second Lieutnant 5th Inf Reg, promoted Lieutnant on 26 July 1809, discharged 9 January 1810
Kwiatkowski Walenty (Valentine) Lieutnant 17th Inf Regiment, promoted Captain 26 June 1812
Kwiatkowski Wicenty (Vincent) Second Lieutnant 1st Hussars Regiment, promoted Lieutnant 18 october 1811, discharged with the rank of Captain on 14 April 1813 (==> your ancestor ?)
Kwiatkowski Wojciech (Adalbert, Albert) Lieutnant 7th Infantry Regiment, transfered to 5Th Inf Regiment on 9 August 1808, discharged on 9 January 1810
Kwiatkowski Francis, surgeon in the 17th Lituanian Cavalry Regiment, 26 october 1812
If your ancestor was officer in the Duchy of Warsaw, his name is on that list
Regards
Andre
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Posted: Sat Sep 22, 2012 1:40 pm
Post subject:
Andre,
Thank you for the information! I will try to follow up on it. Looking online, it seems that the "1st Hussars" were known as the "1st French-Galician Hussar Regiment" and later as the 13th Hussars in the Duchy of Warsaw's order of battle.
Let me continue the story with GGGG Rosemond:
"I was taken prisoner with several of my comrades and put under guard, when an officer with a noble countenance approached and took me by the hand smiling on me as he spoke to a sergeant: “I have spared this young soldier’s life in the hardest of the battle. I saw him on the left wing, when the lance men fell on our infantry, and our infantry pushed off the lance men with their bayonets. I was near to him when his horse fell, but soon Lahi renewed the attack to the right on our artillery. That drew my attention towards the right wing. He was surrounded, his lance knocked from his hand, and I just had time to say spare him, and stop the arm of the grenadier.”
I thanked him for his noble conduct, and then with my wounded companions started to the camp.
The night was dark. One could sometimes hear the groans of the dying soldiers, and at the camp where the soldiers were resting around the fire, sometimes talking of the events of the day, and speaking of the battle, often calling the Poles mad dogs, adding that they are not like the Turks to fight with.
According to their own account, they lost eight cannons, several officers with 500 privates. The took about sixteen Poles, the most of them wounded, as they went so far among the Russians and their horses got killed, or they would have had none.
On the next day we were commanded to be transported to a small village to remain until the wounded were perfectly well of their wounds, and to await for further orders. While we stood in the line giving our names, the Russian general was present. It must have been Rytygier who was reviewing the prisoners. The offers called him “korpsuny” or “commanding general of the corps”. At last he came to me, measuring me from head to foot with his eye, and, smiling, asked, “How many such little fellows in your army!”
“A great many,” said I, “and some a great deal less.”
“You are a brave looking fellow. I will give you service in my army, if you accept it.”
“To fight Poles?”
“Of course the command must be obeyed.”
“No, no Sir! I would cut off my arm sooner than raise it against a Pole.”
He turned from , and took a purse from his pocket, and handed me a ruble, and then mounted his horse, surrounded by his staff, and disappeared.
We were escorted to the village appointed for our station. Soon after more Polish prisoners were brought in, and in about two weeks we were all transported to the line of the Caucasus.
During our journey my comrades were badly treated by the Russian solders. I met with better treatment on account of my age. The commander had taken great liking to me. I was treated very respectfully by them, and sometimes riding with the commandant, I would praise the emperor and wish him long life, and say that I was sorry I did not accept of service in their army. So they were not so strict with me.
I succeeded in making up a plan with my comrades to escape, but being strongly guarded, our plans failed. Our journey lasted nearly five weeks. We arrived late in the evening at the River Dnieper. Before we embarked on the flat boat, I turned my face towards my country, thinking of my parents and home, of my relations and friends. Thinking I never should see them again, I could not restrain my tears. We embarked, and soon landed on the opposite shore. We lodged in some of the Cossack stables for the night. Our guard was much lighter, and the commandant took his lodging in town. He thought as we had crossed the river there would be no danger of our escape. I, as usual, commenced praising the Emperor Nicholas, and offering my service to the Russians, treated the solders with liquor, and promised soon to become their comrade.
I lay down on the straw near to those other Polish prisoners who promised to join with me, and I unfolded to them my plan. If they would join me that night, I would try to escape. They all promised except four, who were afraid of the difficulties in getting to the frontier of Poland. The night was dark and rainy. Everyone was still except a single guard at the door, walking back and forth on his watch. I raised up about midnight and touched each of my confederates, giving them the sign that I was ready. They promised if I succeeded in getting out, they would follow. I climbed to the roof at the back part of the stable. There I succeeded in pulling out some straw which the stable was thatched with. I succeeded in getting outside on the ground, and about a quarter of a mile reached the suburbs of the place. Soon I heard my comrades following, and by light whistling we kept near each other. “Time must not be lost,” said, as we have freed ourselves form the cruel hands of our enemies, now let us go to our beloved Poland.”
“Let us go then,” said my comrades, “and God will guide our steps, and we all choose you for our leader.”"
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Felicia
Joined: 03 Jan 2011
Replies: 43
Location: Chicago, IllinoisBack to top |
Posted: Sat Sep 22, 2012 5:06 pm
Post subject:
Mississippian, you are so fortunate to have this memoir!
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 3:00 am
Post subject: Kwiatkowski in ranks of Kosciuszko insurgents
Hi Will,
Here is a quote of your ancestor's memoire :
"In the time of our Kosciuszko, when the old and young, armed with scythe-blades and spears compelled to leave home and hurry to defend the country. I was then the father of three children. I was then the father of three children. While parting, my two sons took me by the hand, and said: “Oh my father, who will give us bread when you get killed?” And my wife, while I was pressing my infant to my breast, asking: When will you return?” At last, I tore myself away from my family, and left them in the hands of God. After an absence of thirteen months, I returned once more to my family.”
I tryed to find out the Kwiatkowski who did fight in 1794 ( http://www.sbc.org.pl/dlibra/doccontent?id=10208&from=FBC )
-Kwiatkowski Kaj. (Kajetan = Gaetan) member of internal security commission for the Duke of Mazovia
- Kwiatkowski ? (unfortunately no first name) , sergeant, fought against Russian army in Demblin 27 August 1794.
In p171 : Kwiatkowski offered 6 gold coins to insurrection.
regards
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 11:12 am
Post subject:
Andre,
Thanks for the information. That part of the memoir always confuses me a bit. I've come to think that the person who served in 1794 uprising wasn't a member of the Kwiatkowski family, but rather the unidentified "old man from the village". And then the "old mans" two sons went off with John's father to fight in the Napoleonic wars and were killed, along with one of John's uncles.
Did Congress Poland or the Duchy of Warsaw ever conduct any censuses?
Will MacDonald
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