My grandfather, Jan Zajączkowski coat of arms Prawdzic (1875-1932), by education a mechanical engineer (studies in Dorpat), was a professional officer of the Tsarist army in the rank of naval captain. In 1905, he participated in the Russo-Japanese War. After the famous naval battle at Tsushima, in which the Russian fleet suffered a crushing defeat, he found himself in Japanese captivity. He recounted that the prisoners were treated very well by the Japanese and that they had complete freedom of movement, they only had to give their word of honor not to escape. In those days, it never even occurred to anyone that an officer might not keep his word of honor! After regaining freedom and returning to Europe, my grandfather soon set off again, this time with his wife and children, to the Far East, to Blagoveshchensk on the Amur. There, a few more years of their lives passed, probably happily.
From those years, my mother, who was still a child at the time, remembered, among other things, the Chinese with traditional pigtails who crossed the river to the Russian side offering their strange goods, sometimes sticky with dirt, and also dramatic moments when one time the house was surrounded by Hunhuz bandits, and grandfather, his orderly, cook, and coachman, each in a different window, repelled the attack by shooting revolvers. Hunhuz were semi-wild robber bands of the region.
There were always some animals in my grandparents’ house – a huge St. Bernard named Ralf supposedly saved my grandmother’s life by bringing help when she got stuck in a snowdrift during a snowstorm and almost froze to death – the frosts there reached 40 degrees! There were also two donkeys with original names: Safanduła and Fajtłapa!
In Blagoveshchensk, the family grew with the fifth and sixth child – Jan, born in 1910, and Henryk, born in 1912. Grandfather, who was naturally cheerful and merry, used to entertain the older children, that is, Tadzio, Jurek, and Wandzia (my mother), with endless stories of his various adventures, for example, how after the ship sank, he lived on a deserted island, feeding on roots. If I remember correctly, there were even some cannibalistic practices there! Interestingly, these colorful and imagination-stimulating stories usually contained a grain of truth! However, the fairy tales were entirely fictional – one must admit, they were unusual. One of them began like this: “There were two little boys – Kwek and Mek. Their father was chopping wood, and their mother – ripping out marks from other people’s handkerchiefs…”!
My mother, who probably did not attend any school at the time because there simply wasn’t one, nevertheless quickly mastered the art of reading. Her reading circle soon included primarily Russian classics: Gogol, Turgenev, and especially – Lermontov, who remained her greatest literary love forever – at a little over ten years old, she already knew his entire work, mostly by heart! In the age of television and computer games, such fascination with romantic poetry is hard to imagine! Moreover, even then, my mother was probably an exception. It is a great pity that in later years she could not fully develop her literary abilities. Unable to rely on her parents’ help, completely on her own in the struggles of life, at the age of seventeen, she was forced to take up a rather uninteresting office job. Only in her free time could she indulge in her literary passions, translating – for her own pleasure – favorite works of both beloved Lermontov and other Russian poets. I remember a poignant poem by Yesenin about a despairing dog whose puppies were taken away, translated by my mother! In the 1930s, attending French courses, she practiced translating fragments of Polish literature into this language. Her translation of Reymont’s “Pilgrimage to Jasna Góra,” written in an exuberant, flowery Young Poland style, supposedly gained great recognition in the eyes of her French teacher! But I return to the interrupted thread – my mother is still a child and stays with her parents in the Far East, and the difficult interwar period for the family – that’s still a distant future!
In Blagoveshchensk, there were probably two maids brought from Poland: Bronka, whom I will write about later, and another whose name I don’t remember, who got married there and never returned to Europe. The gift she received from her fiancé was original: a set of tortoiseshell combs, probably numbering several dozen pieces, of various shapes and sizes! Of course, the fiancé, a simple soldier, probably Polish or Russian, obtained the employers’ consent beforehand, proposing to the chosen one.
After returning from Siberia, the family stayed – probably not long – in Petersburg. They lived on Nevsky Prospect, and my mother had the opportunity to see Nicholas II passing by in a carriage! Their next place of residence was Finland, the cities of Helsingfors and Abo (the youngest, seventh child – Irena – was born here), then they stayed – for a longer time – on the island of Oland, where grandfather was the deputy commander of the garrison. My mother spoke fluent Swedish at that time and was friends with the daughters of the local pastor, with typically Scandinavian names: Greta and Svea.
An event that particularly stuck in her memory was the premature, heart disease-caused death of the maid Bronka, very close to the family, especially the children, since their stay in Siberia. Apparently, the horses harnessed to the carriage, as if sensing that there was a deceased person in the house, stood on end and refused to pass by the porch.
My mother also recalled visits from officers who were friends with my grandfather, who came on horseback – elegant, with impeccable manners, in white gloves! The place was probably called Mariehamn. When in 1918, the destructive wave of the Bolshevik revolution reached there, grandfather, who was always very good to his subordinates, fortunately avoided the fate of many other officers who were murdered at that time and returned, along with his wife and younger children, to Poland. Thus ended – not only in their lives – la belle epoque!
My mother’s two older brothers, Tadeusz and Jerzy, who were at that time in the Petersburg cadet corps, found themselves, one might say, in the eye of the cyclone. They managed to escape from the burning Russia after many sometimes amusing adventures. For example, Tadeusz, without the slightest preparation for it, supposedly gave – and with success – a recital of opera arias for a proletarian audience, gathered, or rather driven to the “concert” by Bolshevik commissars. They reached Poland only in 1921 via Constantinople. I will add that my mother was to be educated in an institute for noble-born maidens (Institute of Noble Maidens) and if not for the outbreak of the revolution, she would probably have become a graduate of this venerable educational institution.
After returning to Poland, the family lived for some time in Warsaw, on Belwederska Street. Uncle Jan Zajączkowski remembered that their neighbor at that time was the future minister Walerian Sławoj Składkowski, who had a son the same age as the uncle. The financial situation was very difficult at that time, and to survive, they sometimes had to part with more valuable items. This was also happening in many other families who, returning from Russia, often penniless, had to build their existence in independent Poland from scratch. Even years later, they recalled with a smile how “Henryś was selling the Virgin Mary” – Henryś was one of Eugeniusz Eysymont’s sons, and that holy image was probably one of the last things they managed to sell!
All these everyday living difficulties only slightly disturbed the joyful and hopeful atmosphere for the future that prevailed in society after regaining independence in 1918. I will only mention that my mother, who generally never liked so-called women’s handiwork, on the way back to Poland, embroidered with her own hands – on the wave of those patriotic emotions – the White Eagle on canvas!
In 1920, my grandfather participated as a volunteer in the Polish-Bolshevik war. He spent the last few years of his life in Ostrołęka, where he worked as a teacher at the School of Crafts.
Ostrołęka, with all its charms of a pre-war Polish town, was at that time, to put it bluntly, a provincial hole, and a person like my grandfather, coming from the “big world,” could not go unnoticed. His social talents made him very popular there, and even respected. When he died in 1932, his funeral was very ceremonial.
The twenties, however, were unfortunately not a happy period in the life of the family, which – before settling at the end of the decade in the mentioned Ostrołęka, where their existence improved somewhat – had to constantly struggle with financial difficulties, and often even poverty, because repatriating to Poland in 1918, they lost the basis of existence, which had previously been quite decent officer’s emoluments of my grandfather. Whether because of his age (he was almost fifty), or for some other reasons, my grandfather did not find a place for himself in the army in free Poland and had to look for another source of income for himself and his family. I believe that someone thinking pragmatically, being in my grandfather’s position at that time, would not have had much trouble finding a well-paid job and achieving life stability. Unfortunately – my grandfather, instead of using all his assets, and there were many: higher education, knowledge of languages, high social status, and extensive contacts, engaged in increasingly fantastic and completely unrealistic plans and ventures! These undoubtedly included the creation, with my grandfather’s participation, of the “Maritime and Colonial League,” which was supposed to conduct trade with Africa and eventually bring some completely colossal profits! I won’t mention casinos and “infallible” systems guaranteeing high winnings. The effects of such a life attitude of my grandfather were simply pathetic for his wife and children!
There were also greater worries: a heavy shadow was cast on the life of the entire family by the severe illness and death in 1926 of grandmother’s beloved son, Jurek, who died of tuberculosis at the age of 23. This tragic event took place in Poznań, which was another stage in the family’s peregrinations after Warsaw and before Ostrołęka. For my mother, it remained a painful memory forever. Jurek was a very successful child – he was probably the most handsome of the brothers, and more importantly, he demonstrated a great deal of maturity for his young age. He was supposedly characterized by innate aristocracy, perhaps inherited in genes, along with beauty, from French ancestors. My grandmother wore a cameo with the likeness of her deceased son until the end of her life, even in a German labor camp.
In the 1930s, my grandmother, already a widow, still lived (until 1938) in Ostrołęka, having with her two youngest children, Henryk and Irena. The older ones had managed to become independent and even start their own families (Tadeusz and Gustaw). Although the small pension received after her husband was barely enough, and not always, for the most modest maintenance, the respected “professor’s wife” still held a high position in the local community and not only in her own opinion but also in the eyes of the environment was considered almost a “heiress,” exercising a kind of patronage over the women who gathered in her kitchen, mostly simple, and so naive that when the radio broadcast the ringing of church bells from Częstochowa, they knelt on the kitchen floor, overwhelmed with devout reverence!
I will now go back in time to the 1880s. The teenage Jan Zajączkowski used to come for holidays to Miniewicze in the Grodno region. This estate belonged to the Kamieński family – Jan and Leonia from the Suzin family. As is known, it was in the manor house in Miniewicze, picturesquely situated on the bank of the Niemen River, that Orzeszkowa spent the summer months and wrote her epic about the Niemen. My grandfather’s sister, Katarzyna Rogowska, told me, among other things, how once her mischievous brother Janek appeared before Orzeszkowa disguised as an old Jew (inspiration – “Meir Ezofowicz”!), and she – to the delight of those present – did not recognize the masquerade, engaging in a serious conversation with the supposed Jew. Apparently, the author of “On the Niemen,” who had no children of her own, was so charmed by the boy’s lively intelligence that she even wanted to adopt him!
Here is how Janina from the Rafalski family Warnecka remembered her uncle Jan Zajączkowski – I will quote a fragment of her memories: “The year 1914 was approaching. In the summer, my brother Bronek had already been sent to the uncle’s in Łomża, my father went on a business trip to London regarding quick filters, the rest of us spent the holidays by the Baltic Sea in the renowned resort of Połąga. Very close in the port of Aleksandra III lived with his family my beloved uncle Jan Zajączkowski, the quintessence of charm and talents, a marine engineer, once a Japanese prisoner after Port Arthur. One day we were playing some old albums of salon pieces four hands. At some point, the uncle stopped liking the sound of the “C sharp” key. Without thinking long, he dismantled the piano’s innards, but lacked the energy to put it back together, preferring to swim with me. We bathed in our funny costumes, and it was divine. – Suddenly, a piece of bad news hit – w a r!”
Jan Zajączkowski was married (wedding in Lviv 1899) to Maria Eysymont (1874-1945), daughter of judge Józef Eysymont coat of arms Korab (1817-1899) and Juliette de Guillou (died 1903 in Yenakiieve at the age of about 63). Józef Eysymont met his future wife, the beautiful Juliette, at a court ball in Petersburg. He was then 38 years old, she – 16!
The father of Julia (a portrait of her from around 1855 has survived) was the Frenchman Joseph de Guillou (born 1787 in Paris, died 1853 in Petersburg), a flutist musician, professor at the Paris Conservatory, etc. – his likeness is in the collections of the Bibliotheque Nationale de France. I only know about Julia’s mother that she was born Duverdier and came from southern France (the records written on parchment burned in 1944, as did all other family mementos).
An interesting fact – the same Joseph de Guillou, my great-great-grandfather, who stayed in Russia from 1830, was not only a virtuoso flute player, composer, critic, and animator of musical life (among others, he founded the magazine “L’artist Russe”), but also – as family tradition has it – composed the anthem “God Save the Tsar,” whose author is officially Prince Alexei Fyodorovich Lvov – it was not appropriate for the national anthem to be composed by a foreigner! Information I found on the Internet seems to authenticate this family transmission: Guillou was namely the author of the libretto of the opera “Bianca und Gualtiero,” composed by Prince Lvov, 1844 Dresden, 1845 Petersburg.
I know that my Grandparents, i.e., Jan Zajączkowski and Maria from the Eysymont family, were quite closely related, as Józef Eysymont was probably a cousin of Augustyn Suzin.
Maria from the Eysymont family Zajączkowska, my grandmother, a naturally delicate, gentle, and not very resourceful person, did not have an easy life. Grandfather, being a highly intelligent and educated person (he knew five languages), also extremely socially attractive and widely liked, was at the same time, as I have already written, completely devoid of practical sense, and often even the simplest sense of responsibility for the family’s fate. The entire burden of raising seven children, and that in conditions of constant change of residence, rested on my grandmother’s frail shoulders. If it weren’t for the fact that in Tsarist Russia origin still counted a lot – my grandparents belonged to the higher category of nobility, called “stołbowyje dworianie” – I don’t know how their fate would have turned out!
It’s hardly surprising that after returning to Poland in 1918, my grandfather simply couldn’t, given his character, adapt to a completely new reality – after all, the poor Poland of the 1920s and pre-revolutionary Russia were two entirely different worlds! I see a certain analogy here to the fate of Russian emigrants, who, torn from their environment and thrown to the West, often succumbed to declassification – not at all due to a lack of education or unfamiliarity with the language.
Returning to my grandparents’ seven children, I will list them all by name for accuracy. So: Tadeusz born 1900 Lviv; Jerzy born 1903 Yenakiieve; Wanda born 1905 Poltava; Gustaw born 1907 Mińsk Mazowiecki; Jan born 1910 Blagoveshchensk; Henryk born 1912 Blagoveshchensk; Irena born 1917 Abo.
Additionally, I will add that little Gustaw, who was born shortly before the family’s departure to the Far East, was left for several years under the care of his grandmother in Mińsk Mazowiecki, not wanting to expose him to the hardships of such a long journey. Perhaps this decision was also influenced by the position of the grandmother, Maria Gustawa from the Suzin family Zajączkowska, who seemed to have a rather domineering character. However, it was probably not a wise decision because when they returned from Siberia years later, and Gustaw saw his mother for the first time, completely unknown to him, he addressed her as “please ma’am” and retained resentment for being left behind until the end of his life.
And an anecdotal episode from my grandmother’s life: as a young lady, she spent some time – in the company of other young ladies – at Countess Ledóchowska’s. She, directing their upbringing, cared for the comprehensive development of both soul and body. In practice, this was quite amusing and consisted of those young ladies performing gymnastic evolutions, which were supposed to develop their grace of movement, while simultaneously, so as not to waste time, reciting prayer texts: “Hail Mary” – jump – “full of grace” – bow to the left, etc.!
My grandmother had numerous siblings:
Władysław Eysymont (1857-1917), murdered by defenestration by the Bolsheviks in Odessa, wife – Jadwiga Zawiszanka, daughter – Maria (1882-1961) Iv. Antoniowa Zajączkowska, IIv. Młynarska. The late Dr. Antoni Zajączkowski in New York was my grandfather’s half-brother, while Feliks Młynarski was a co-creator of the pre-war monetary reform, vice-president of the National Bank, Polish delegate to the League of Nations, during the occupation – with authorization from the London government – president of the Emission Bank (the famous “młynarki” – occupation banknotes!) I believe his fairly extensive memoirs were published in the 1960s. I don’t want to boast about family connections, but I will add that Prince Metropolitan Adam Stefan Sapieha himself was a guest at the Młynarski home, and in the marriage certificate (1902) of Maria Eysymontówna with Antoni Zajączkowski, the following names of witnesses appear: “Józef Ginet Piłsudski – liberal, Ignacy Daszyński – member of parliament”! I cannot fail to mention here that for us, i.e., for my mother, grandmother, aunt Irena Zaruska, and myself, Feliks Młynarski proved to be a truly providential man – using the possibilities offered by his presidency of the occupation Emission Bank, he got us (it was said “reclaimed”) out of the labor camp in Braunschweig, where we were deported from Warsaw in the first days of the Uprising. Directly from Germany, we ended up – in a deplorable state – in Krakow, where the Młynarskis took us under their roof. Krakow was still under German occupation at that time, Soviet troops entered a little later. Life was relatively normal (piano lessons, etc.) – we were jokingly referred to as “poverty in the salon”! Speaking of music: Maria (Marylka) from the Eysymont family Zajączkowska, blessed with a beautiful soprano, was already on the threshold of a great opera career in America, as predicted by Marcelina Sembrich-Kochańska herself! She was even supposed to perform at the Metropolitan Opera in New York. Unfortunately, the death of her first husband in 1915 thwarted these beautiful artistic plans.
Returning to Władysław Eysymont – after divorcing Jadwiga Zawiszanka (her second husband was Jan Miłobędzki), he remarried, this time to a Russian woman, and had three daughters with her, who, after his tragic death, were driven by the winds of revolution as far as Japan. One of them was named Halina. As far as I know, they even maintained contact with their father’s family in Poland for a short time. Their further fate is unknown.
Stanisław Eysymont, wife – Olesia (Aleksandra?) Jelinek died 1939, sons: Stanisław, Józef, Bolesław, daughter Julia. During the occupation, contact was lost, and I know nothing more about them!
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Eugeniusz Eysymont (1858-1925), wife Maria Sroka (1876-1938). Their children are: Bolesław, Zofia, Mieczysław, and Henryk. Eugeniusz Eysymont, known as “uncle Żeniek,” lived with his family in Borysław at the beginning of the 20th century, and then probably in Lviv, since it was there in 1930 that his grandson Janusz Eysymont, son of Bolesław, a well-known Warsaw painter, unfortunately now deceased, was born, whom I once infected with the passion of researching family connections. The Lviv Eysymonts maintained close relations with the Pierściński family, related by marriage, before the war and were frequent guests in Pustomyty near Lviv. Aunt Zofia Głębowiczowa even lived there for some time. Her brother Mieczysław was a professional officer of the Polish Army. When Lviv came under Soviet occupation in 1939, he, like other officers, received an official summons to report to the authorities. Perhaps wanting to present himself with dignity and make the right impression, he went to the designated place in full dress uniform, with a saber at his side. He certainly made an impression, but he never returned home – like Feliks Misiewicz, known to him from Pustomyty, son-in-law of Wanda Pierścińska, he was murdered in Katyń. His wife, deported with their child to the east, probably to Kazakhstan, returned to the country after a long wander, but little Jędruś Eysymont did not survive. He was buried in the Polish children’s cemetery in Tehran.
Helena from the Eysymont family Zawiszyna (1865-1935), husband Jan Zawisza, (brother of Jadwiga Zawiszanka), childless. Uncle Zawisza was supposedly a classic type of old Polish nobleman – a bit of a spendthrift and a bit of a domestic despot: sitting at the table, he usually expressed his dissatisfaction by grabbing the corner of the tablecloth and pulling everything to the floor! He also used to, as a true bon viveur, spend money on boxes of chocolates or other gifts for the operetta artists he admired!
The sisters of uncle Zawisza – Weychertowa, Jeskowa, and Czaplicka – dignified matrons in purples, sitting on the couch in the Młynarski salon, caused a certain intimidation not only to my mother but even to the lady of the house, Marylka Młynarska! Aunt Zofia from the Zajączkowski family Jabłońska remembered that in the 1930s, when the financial situation of the Zawisza family was probably more than modest, they participated in family gatherings at the Młynarski’s, but almost did not take part in the conversation and after consuming coffee with a cake, they silently disappeared.
My mother remembered her aunt Helena Zawiszyna very warmly. She also recounted that when she found herself in Warsaw for the first time in her life in 1918, and aunt Zawiszyna took her for a walk to Łazienki, she naively thought they were going to some bathhouse to take a bath!
Julia from the Eysymont family Rafalska (1871-1940), husband Bronisław, children: Bronisław, Kazimierz (shot by the Germans in Warsaw on August 2, 1944), and Janina. Bronisław Rafalski junior was a professional officer of the Polish Army, during the war he went through the entire combat trail with Anders’ army and remained until his death in exile in London. The son of Kazimierz is Janusz Rafalski (born 1936), a jazz musician, while Janina (1901-1988) is the wife of the outstanding actor and director Janusz Warnecki (1895-1970), before the war director of Warsaw theaters, after the war professor at the PWST and director of the Polish Radio Theater. One of his last acting creations was the title role in the television spectacle “Mistrz,” with, among others, Śmiałowski, Hanin, Borowski, and the then young Gogolewski. This spectacle was showered with many awards at the time, including international ones, and was broadcast by television several times afterward. Janusz Warnecki’s memoirs were published in the 1960s, while his wife’s, my aunt Janina’s, memoirs, providing some contribution to the history of Polish intelligentsia at the beginning of the 20th century in Russia, as well as Polish theater in the interwar period, I have in manuscript.
An interesting fact: Julia Rafalska was friends in her youth with Maria Curie-Skłodowska, who was her schoolmate. Due to differing interests – I suppose that Julia was more interested in new hats than new chemical elements – this friendship probably didn’t have much chance of survival!
Jan Eysymont, born after 1874, worked on the railway, died young of heart disease, and did not start a family.
Anna Eysymontówna, died at the age of 18.
Henryk Eysymont, died young of bone decay.
Maria Eysymontówna, namesake of my grandmother, probably died in childhood.
Józefa from the Eysymont family Jabłkowska (1876-1952), wife of Bronisław Jabłkowski coat of arms Wczele. Bronisław Jabłkowski was the uncle of Feliks Jabłkowski, the chief director of the well-known pre-war department store Bracia Jabłkowscy in Warsaw. After the war, the company resumed operations, but in 1950 it was taken from its rightful owners and nationalized. I remember that as a five- or six-year-old child, I was several times with my mother (who was very friendly with the Jabłkowski family) in the large building of the company on Bracka Street. Later, when worse times came – both for the Jabłkowskis and for the entire society – family contacts completely ceased. However, quite recently I came across a mention in the newspaper that the Jabłkowski brothers (Jan and Tomasz, sons of Feliks) have taken steps to recover family property and are a step away from full success (they have already managed to recover the tenement house at Chmielna 21). Sentimental reasons prompted me and my Aunt Irena Zaruska – the last surviving member of my parents’ generation and still remembering pre-war times (born 1917) – to write a letter to the Jabłkowski brothers. The letter was met with a sympathetic response from Mr. Tomasz Jabłkowski, who turned out to be a very nice man, accepted Aunt Irena (whom he had not heard of before!) as his relative, and even wishes to maintain these newly established family ties after so many years.
My personal memory associated with Aunt Józefa Jabłkowska is a visit that my mother and I paid her in the late 1940s in Krakow. She was then living in something like a care home. I vaguely remember her silhouette and that I received a gift – an empty perfume bottle!
In the recently republished book “Dom Towarowy Braci Jabłkowskich – an economic romance” by its author, Feliks Jabłkowski, writing about his family, he points out a certain paradox: Uncle Bronisław, who was active in the socialist movement (he was a member of SDKPiL, a prisoner of the X Pavilion, and finally – a long-term exile), simultaneously took an active part in family gatherings and was even the main speaker at them. Although most participants in these gatherings certainly had fundamentally different views than he did, it didn’t bother anyone. The family bond mattered! Uncle Bronisław, whom my mother knew, of course, from much later times, was supposedly a man with a heart of gold, though somewhat rough in manner. He was called “Uncle Crocodile.”
Unfortunately, I know nothing about the family environment of my great-grandfather, Judge Józef Eysymont, but I suspect that his relative must have been the famous “cousin January” – a very characteristic figure. Family tradition has passed down several of his bon mots. For example, when he visited one of his aristocratic aunts, and she, not too pleased with the visit, greeted him with the words: “Oh, January – I thought someone better…”, he quickly retorted: “better ones – to better ones, and I – to dear auntie!” This same January was supposedly to become a priest but gave up the clerical career, leaving his cassock in the church with a letter to God: “Take this cassock, oh God, January cannot wear it!”
I will now move on to my grandfather’s family, Jan Zajączkowski. His father was Gustaw Zajączkowski, a military surgeon in the rank of colonel, and his grandfather – Antoni Zajączkowski, a teacher in Słonim. Gustaw Zajączkowski, who had a sister Aniela who died young, was married twice. With Kożuchowska (apparently some estate in Ukraine), he had a son Antoni (1866-1915), also a doctor, who – repressed for socialist activities – had to flee to America and died there, and his wife Maria from the Eysymont family, daughter of Władysław, returned to Poland with two daughters. Gustaw Zajączkowski’s second wife was Maria Gustawa Suzin, daughter of Augustyn Suzin (1812-1896) and Andrzeina Mrozowska. I know nothing about the latter, but I have a genealogical tree of the Suzin family, which was given to me years ago by the late Adam Suzin, a musician, composer, author of many school songbooks. The Suzin family, supposedly descending from Russian princes, obtained indigenate (coat of arms Roch III) at the beginning of the 17th century and probably left a good mark in our history, as it produced two outstanding and significant figures in Polish history: Adam Suzin (1800-1879), a Philaret, Siberian exile, friend of Mickiewicz (see part III of “Dziady”) and Paweł Suzin (1839-1863), one of the leaders and heroes of the 1863 uprising (see Konopnicka “How Suzin Died”). I will add that even the Radziwiłłs visited the Suzin house (mentioned Adam) on social terms (I have photographic documentation of such a meeting in the 1950s, with the participation of Krzysztof Radziwiłł).
As for my great-grandmother Maria Gustawa from the Suzin family Zajączkowska, the so-called “aunt Gucia,” who, although she was the wife of a Tsarist colonel, conducted illegal socialist activities, there is an anecdote that when she was transporting “bibuła” and faced a personal search, without losing her confidence, she addressed the Okhrana officers: “This is insolence! To search me, a colonel’s wife!! Paszli won!” She died on a ship returning from America after the death of her stepson Antoni Zajączkowski.
Children of Gustaw Zajączkowski and Maria Gustawa Suzin:
Jan Zajączkowski, my Grandfather.
Katarzyna Helena from the Zajączkowski family Rogowska (1875-1967), wife of Bronisław. At the turn of the century, very active in the socialist movement – from 1892 (the year of its founding!) belonged to the PPS. She withdrew from this activity probably when attempts were made to involve her in terrorist-like activities, such as throwing a bomb into a passing carriage. In the interwar period, she devoted herself to social work, especially in the field of child care. She was, among others, the initiator of the “A Drop of Milk for a Child” campaign. Decorated before the war with the Order of Polonia Restituta and the Cross of Independence Fighters. Her memoirs, which I have not yet accessed, are in the archive of one of the scientific institutions. As the only representative of my grandparents’ generation known to me personally, “grandma Rogowska” was for me a true “ark of the covenant between the old and new times.” Two other aunts of my mother, Józefa Jabłkowska and Wanda Pierścińska, I only met briefly as they did not live in Warsaw. Children of Katarzyna Rogowska are:
– Mieczysław Rogowski (died severely wounded in the Uprising), supposedly nominated for the Minister of Internal Affairs in the future Polish government (of course not communist!),
– Lech Rogowski, murdered by the Germans in Vilnius,
– Janina from the Rogowski family Doroszewska, author of many highly regarded scientific works on special pedagogy, with Maria Grzegorzewska co-founder of PIPS (State Institute of Special Pedagogy), wife of Witold Doroszewski, author of the monumental Dictionary of the Polish Language. The person of Professor Doroszewski and his scientific achievements are too well-known to be discussed here. Not everyone, however, knows that in the years preceding World War II, what caused almost a sensation in the broad circle of family and acquaintances was not Professor Doroszewski’s scientific achievements, which he already had to his credit, but – the motorcycle he purchased while at some scientific symposium in Detroit! Moreover, the trip to the United States itself was, in those now distant times, a significant event!
Wanda from the Zajączkowski family Pierścińska, whose estate Pustomyty (a dozen kilometers south of Lviv) was often mentioned by my mother. Currently, it is a town of 20,000, but before the war, Pustomyty probably had a rural character, as on the name day, a delegation of the population came to the manor to offer wishes to the “lady of the estate.” The husband of one of Wanda Pierścińska’s daughters, Feliks Misiewicz, was a pilot, and supposedly (although personally, I would rather put this among fairy tales) expressed his gallantry for ladies by dropping boxes of chocolates while flying over the manor park! Those were beautiful times, it’s just a pity that not everyone in Poland enjoyed such wealth back then. My father’s mother, Paulina from the Xiężopolski family Wąsowska, wanting to treat him, as the youngest, to an egg (it’s unclear: hard-boiled or soft-boiled?), did it secretly so that the other children wouldn’t feel bad about not getting anything!
I return to the family of my mother – perhaps from the times of “aunt Gucia’s” socialist activities, and then her daughter Katarzyna Helena Rogowska, dates the acquaintance of our family with Józef Piłsudski. As I was told, being at my grandparents’ one time, he asked the then-little Tadeusz, my mother’s older brother, the sacramental question: “what would you like to be when you grow up?”, and he replied: “King of Poland.” Piłsudski smiled and commented: “oh, you’re making competition for me!” And it was only maybe 1903-4! Thirty years later, that same Piłsudski (a man, as is known, of great modesty) took the little daughters of that Tadeusz Zajączkowski for a walk in Sulejówek (in Sulejówek, uncle Bronisław and Józefa Jabłkowscy had a villa).
The history of the Kamieński family coat of arms Ślepowron, owners of the Miniewicze estate near Grodno, described, among others, by Barbara Wachowicz in a chapter devoted to Orzeszkowa (I don’t remember the title of the whole – the book is probably in the countryside), is certainly interesting, and not only for me. Well, Jan Kamieński (1827-1896), married to Leonia Suzin, the sister of “aunt Gucia,” was sentenced to Siberia for participating in the uprising. He returned from exile only after more than twenty years. (a photograph of Jan Kamieński in exile attire is sometimes reproduced in textbooks). During this time, the Tsarist authorities took over the estate, agreeing that Orzeszkowa, not only a friend but even related by her mother to the Kamieński family, could come to Miniewicze and in the rural quiet devote herself to literary creativity. It was in Miniewicze in the 1880s that “On the Niemen” was created (not very liked by students, and it’s a pity!). The prototype of the character of Andrzej, and partly of Benedykt Korczyński, was none other than Jan Kamieński, well known to the author, and the idea of social solidarity contained in the novel was realized in the life of the Kamieński’s daughter by marrying a minor nobleman Klemens Strzałkowski. The fact that this idea was still very much alive for the generation of my great-aunt, Katarzyna Helena Rogowska (“aunt Kicia”), is evidenced, for example, by how years later she commented in some conversation on my mother’s marriage (1940) to a man from a completely different environment: “What nobility! She married a man straight from the countryside! Without any education!” And really, there was not a hint of irony in these somewhat exalted words, only sincere admiration and recognition. Incidentally, my father, standing on the wedding carpet, had already graduated and had long been moving in an intellectual environment!
The further fate of the owners of Miniewicze was tragic: after the Bolsheviks entered, the already elderly Klemens Strzałkowski and his son Kazimierz (born 1905, the same age as my mother) were brutally murdered by the residents of the neighboring Belarusian village, intoxicated by Soviet propaganda (1940). When, in turn, after the Bolsheviks were driven out, Grodno region was occupied by the Germans and an investigation was launched to establish those responsible for the crime, Kazimierz’s wife, Hanna from the Bukowiecki family coat of arms Drogosław (her mother was Leonia Suzin, daughter of Cyriak and Roksolana Rodziewicz-Billewicz), refused to point out the people responsible for her husband’s death. Having survived several years of hell under another Soviet occupation, she returned to Poland with her children only in 1953, and what is almost amusing, she received money for the journey from her neighbors, Belarusian peasants, who, motivated by compassion for the widow, and perhaps by guilt, organized a collection for this purpose!
Finally, I will go back in my stories over a hundred years: the mentioned Cyriak Suzin, brother of my great-great-grandfather Augustyn, probably the youngest of the siblings, while still a teenager prone to foolish pranks, committed an unheard-of prank for those times – he pinched his own grandmother, when she bent down to adjust the fire in the fireplace, unexpectedly in the part of the body that was most exposed at that moment. The father imposed a punishment appropriate to the offense: he expelled him from home – once and for all, without the right to return. He was taken in and raised by his older brother, who was already “on his own”!