Eagles in the Caucasus: Polish-Circassian cooperation against Russia in the 19th century

Although Poles and members of the Circassian diaspora may seem as though they have little in common today, it was not always so. Perhaps one of the most unusual partnerships of the 19^th century was born of the intense collaborative efforts of Poles and Circassians to free themselves from Russian domination. By this time Russian expansion had swallowed up most of the former Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and threatened to engulf the homeland of the Circassian people in the northwest Caucasus. The machinations of stateless Poles in France, England, and the Ottoman Empire became a main source of support for the beleaguered Circassians during their protracted struggle against the Romanov state.

A Polish insurrectionist returns home
after the November Uprising of 1830-31

In their continued fight for national independence following the partition and dissolution of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth at the end of the 18^th century by Russia, Prussia, and Austria, Polish nationalists perceived that they were quite alone amongst the various minority populations of the Romanov Empire in their efforts to stage large-scale uprisings against Russian rule. In the early 1830s, however, Polish insurrectionists recognized that they shared common goals with the Circassian population of the Caucasus, which was in the throes of a prolonged armed resistance against Romanov expansion.

Historically, Circassian tribes were sometimes-clients of the Crimean Khanate, which was itself a part of the Ottoman Empire. Romanov expansion into the Caucasus beginning in the early 18^th century onwards pushed the Circassian tribes to cooperate more closely with the Ottoman state. The defeat of Ottoman forces by Imperial Russia during the “Leh Seferi” (1768-1774 Russo-Turkish War) and the subsequent treaty of Küçük Kaynarca in 1774 awarded independence to the Crimean Khanate and the Northern Caucasus, which where annexed by the Romanovs in 1787. As a result, Circassia became a sort of front line for the Ottoman Empire in the north Caucasus around the same time that Poland-Lithuania began to be partitioned by its neighbors.

In the end, the Ottoman Empire was unable to keep pace with Imperial Russia, which built lines of fortifications along their Caucasian borders, settled large numbers of Cossacks in the region, and pushed into the southern Caucasus, annexing Georgia in 1801. Concurrent wars between Russia and Persia led to the extension of Romanov power into the Armenian plateau. Russia further consolidated its eastern Caucasian holdings with the treaty of Türkmençay in 1828 after taking Tabriz from ‘Abbas Mirza. The final blow came with the Treaty of Adrianople in 1829, which forced the Ottomans to abandon their official claims to Circassia. Despite this, the Circassians managed to hold their ground against the Romanov army until 1864, at which point the bulk of the Circassian population was displaced or killed. It was during this prolonged period of resistance that Polish nationalists lent their support.

Prince Adam Czartoryski

In the early 1830s Prince Adam Czartoryski, a key patron of the Wielka Emigracja (Great Emigration) of polish intelligentsia and nationalists from the defunct Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth to the cultural and political centers of Paris, London, and Istanbul, sent the first Polish agents to meet with Circassian leaders in their alpine redoubts in the north Caucasus. Elements within the Polish expatriate leadership felt that a free Poland could rise from the smoking battlefields of a great war fought between the Western Powers and the Ottoman Empire against Russia, which controlled most of the former Commonwealth’s territories. The émigrés, therefore, were forced to walk a fine line between the pursuit of their own nationalist aspirations and keeping their French, English, and Ottoman protectors and sometimes-benefactors complacent.

 For thirty-odd years, numerous members of the Polish émigré community in Istanbul became involved in the Circassian cause by volunteering to fight directly alongside the Circassians, or by working to support their cause through diplomacy. The émigrés’ awareness of this issue was strengthened by the experiences of the many Poles who had been forced to serve in the Russian army in the Caucasus. Contemporary accounts of the treatment of Polish deserters and prisoners of war by the Circassian irregular military units are contradictory. It appears, however, that some Polish prisoners were incorporated directly into local guerilla units, and it was claimed that the Circassian Chief Şamil “always, want(ed) to have a host of Polish Ulans before him” (Lewak, 49). An important factor that led to the unlikely involvement of exiled Poles in the affairs of Circassian highlanders was the well-established tradition of the service of Polish Legions in extra-national conflicts. Over the years following the partitioning of Poland-Lithuania, Poles formed their own units and fought in the Napoleonic wars, Haitian Revolution, the 1848 revolutions that took place in Hungary and Italy, the Crimean War, and the American Civil War in conflicts that were politically or philosophically tied to the Polish cause.

In 1836, during the early phases of Polish-Circassian cooperation, the renegade secretary of the British Embassy in Istanbul, a man named David Urquhart, dispatched a British schooner that was filled with arms illegally bound for Circassian resistance forces.  Russian forces seized the “Vixen” after it attempted to run a naval blockade and land its cargo on the Circassian coastline.  The “Vixen Incident”, the result of a lone diplomat’s unsupported desire to help the Circassians, nearly caused a war between Britain and Russia.  This would have served Polish purposes well and, in order to spread awareness of the event, Prince Czartoryski and his agent Władysław Zamojski attempted to bring the issue to the attention Western populaces by casting it in a favorable light in numerous publications disseminated to the British and French publics.

In addition to this, Prince Adam Czartoryski’s Hôtel Lambert and its Eastern Agency were involved in various attempts to create unity among the four main Circassian tribes, who they continued to fund and arm.  Between 1841-1852 the Polish émigrés were the only significant source of foreign support for the Circassian rebels (Lewak, 52). This came to an end during the Crimean War when the Allied Powers of Britain and France began to view the Circassians as potential partners in their fight with Russia and briefly funded their resistance during the conflict. After the war, in 1857, an armed expedition led by Colonel Teofil Lapiński, which was manned almost exclusively by Polish émigrés, reached the beleaguered Circassians and fought a guerilla war at their side until 1860.

In 1858 Colonel Władysław Jordan was appointed by Prince Adam Czartoryski to be his new chief agent of the Eastern Agency.  Through him, and his connections with the powerful Hôtel Lambert, Circassian leaders were able to petitioned for the aid of Queen Victoria and Napoleon III.  When aid was refused, Czartoryski personally sponsored Circassian leaders in a trip to Paris and London in hopes that their physical presence would add weight to their pleas. Ultimately, it did not.

Armoured Circassians, 19th c.

By the 1860s it began to look as though the remaining Circassian forces would succumb to Russian military superiority.  The Hôtel Lambert rallied together the Polish émigré community of Istanbul and attempted to forestall this by petitioning France and England for their support of a joint Polish-Circassian “crusade” (Brock, 407). This call for action occurred just as the 1863 January uprising in the Congress Kingdom of Russian-controlled Poland was coming to a head. Lambert’s main source of support for the Polish/Circassian cause in England was the organizer of the disastrous “Vixen Incident”, David Urquhart, whose enthusiasm for the Circassian cause had not been dampened by a failed diplomatic career. Over the years he had continued to work closely with the Polish émigré community of Britain, making use of their direct contact with the Circassian forces. In their meetings with British officials, Hôtel Lambert agents attempted to cast Circassia as the breakwater upon which the wave of Russian expansion would smash itself to pieces before it could make its way into Persia and India.  Although greater public awareness of the subject was achieved due to the work of the Urquhart and the Polish émigrés, the French and British governments refused to back either the Polish or Circassian causes.

In 1863 David Urquhart was involved in another risky scheme to send a boatload of goods to the Circassian coast in order to force Russia to recognize a pre-existent free trade agreement that was supposed to be in effect in that region.  Instead of harmless trade goods, however, the “Chesapeake” would be full of illegal arms destined for Circassian forces. Władysław Zamoyski and Prince Adam Czartoryski’s son Władysław were amongst the primary benefactors of this ill-fated project. After a lifetime of espionage and secret dealings, Urquhart’s extreme paranoia caused him to accuse his fellow-conspirators of being “Russian spies”, which led to the breakdown of his relationship with Polish and Circassian leaders.  As a result, he soon lost his place as a leading organizer in the scheme. The “Chesapeake Plan” was taken over by the Poles of the Hôtel Lambert. 

 When the ship arrived in Istanbul, it was loaded with a contingent of Polish soldiers who were meant to form the core of a new Polish Legion in Circassia.  Similar to the Polish Legions in the Ottoman army during the Crimean War, their numbers were once again hoped to swell with Polish deserters from the Russian army.  Klemens Przewłocki, who was a main organizer of Michał Czajkowski/Sadık Paşa’s Polish Cossack Legion in the Crimean War (“The Sultan’s Cossacks”), was given control of the unit. Przewłocki’s expedition to Circassia lasted only a few months after which famine and a lack of material support forced the Poles to retreat. The Hôtel Lambert had once again relied too heavily on Polish deserters from the Russian army to fill out the ranks of their Legions. Although they defeated Russian forces in various engagements, in the end their efforts were further hindered because the Ottoman government refused to reinforce the Circassian rebels. The capture of the key fort at Kbaada on 21 May, 1864 ended the Caucasian Wars.  This, in turn, sparked the emigration of some 400,000 Circassians to the Ottoman Empire in the late 1860s and 1870s.

The Ottoman government turned a blind eye towards the involvement of its Polish émigré community in the external affairs of the Circassian insurrectionists.  This attitude proved advantageous for the conspirators; it allowed the Poles to develop and execute numerous plans that were detrimental to Imperial Russia. Ultimately, the unwillingness of the Ottoman government to involve itself openly in the Caucasian Wars stemmed from a desire to avoid another conflict with Russia. By 1864 the influence of the Hôtel Lambert in European politics began to decline as the insurrectionary government responded to shifting political tides by abandoning their policy of seeking help from the English and French and realigned themselves with Hungarian and Italian revolutionary factions. As such, plans to regain Polish independence through direct intervention in the Caucasus were abandoned.

The overall effect that the Polish émigré community had on the Circassians’ struggle for survival may not have been monumental in scope, but the personal sacrifice of combatants and the political influence wielded by their Polish patrons abroad provided new lines of communication through which Circassians could forge relationships with the governments of the Western Powers. The result of these efforts was to keep the “Polish Question” alive amongst the Great Powers of Europe; the Circassians were not as fortunate.

Select Bibliography: 

1. Brock, Peter. 1956. “The fall of Circassia: A study in private diplomacy.” The English Historical Review 71, (280) (Jul.): 401-27.
2. Dziewanowski, M. H. 1948. “1848 and the Hotel Lambert.” The Slavonic and East European Review 26, (67) (Apr.): 361-73.
3. Lewak, Adam. 1935. Dzieje Emigracji Polskiej w Turcji, 1831-1878. Warszawa: Nak. Instytutu Wschodniego.
4. Łątka, Jerzy S. 2005. Słownik Polaków w Imperium Osmańskim i Republice Turcji. Kraków: Księg. Akademicka.
5. Kisluk, Eugene J. 2005. Brothers From the North: The Polish democratic society and the European revolutions of 1848-1849. New York: Columbia University Press.

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Michael Połczyński is a Doctoral Candidate at Georgetown University. For more on the author see: https://georgetown.academia.edu/MichaelPołczyński

Postcard, early 20th century

Where is the Deputy of Lehistan?

The story of the last delegate of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth 

to the Sublime Porte

Listen to the Podcast at The Wild Field:

In the Polish collective memory Ottoman Turkey is remembered as the only state that did not recognize the final partition of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in 1795 by Russia, Prussia and Austria. There even exists an anecdote recounting the exchange between the chef de protocol and his aide, which is still often repeated in Poland. According to the tale, whenever the diplomatic corps was received by the Ottoman sultan, on the sight of the empty chair of the Polish deputy, the Ottoman chef de protocol would ostentatiously ask: “Where is the deputy from Lehistan?”. At each occasion he would receive the same reply from his aide: ‘Your Excellency, the deputy of Lehistan could not make it because of vital impediments’ to the annoyance of the diplomats from the partitioning states. The first written record of this story comes from the Polish ambassador to Turkey in the years 1936 – 45, Michał Sokolnicki (1880 – 1967). He heard it from a Turkish officer and statesman, Ali Fuat Cebesoy (1880 – 1968), who was acquainted with the Istanbul Polish community. Cebesoy claimed that this symbolic exchange continued until the end of sultanate and he witnessed it in person as a young officer during the reign of Sultan Abdülhamid II (r. 1876 – 1909) (Sokolnicki, 1958). The accuracy of this account is widely questioned by the historians of the subject as no record of such a habit from the early nineteenth century has been found. Regardless, it has played, and continues to play a significant role in the Polish collective memory and as a tool of statecraft. Tadeusz Mazowiecki (1927 – 2013) attended the session of the Council of Europe in 1990 as the first non-Communist Prime Minister of Poland since 1945, he began his speech with the story and concluded it saying that the long-awaited deputy from Lehistan had finally arrived, highlighting that Poland was at last a free country (Kołodziejczyk, 2000).

In a similar vein, it can be discussed whether the Ottoman Empire did or did not recognize the partitions of Poland-Lithuania. Or more precisely whether the Ottomans were at all asked for any kind of approval of the status quo.  One of the main resolutions of the Congress of Vienna (1814 – 1815) was a final partition of the Duchy of Warsaw (Księstwo Warszawskie) between Russia and Prussia. The Duchy of Warsaw was an independent Polish state established by Napoleon I in 1807 from the Polish lands ceded by Prussia and was allied to France. Although it was created as a satellite state, it was commonly hoped and believed that through it Poles would be able to regain their former status as a fully sovereign state. These hopes were shattered due to Napoleon’s failure in the campaign against Russia (1812) and the decisions of the Congress of Vienna, which redrew the map of Europe after Napoleon’s defeat. However, the Ottoman Empire was not invited to the Congress. Consequently, it is debatable to what extent the Ottoman state was active in their supposed protest against the partitioning of Poland-Lithuania.

The disappearance of Poland from the map in 1795 did not go unnoticed in the Ottoman Empire. The prominent nineteenth-century Ottoman historian and statesman, Ahmed Cevdet Pasha (1822-1895), remarked in his history of the Ottoman Empire (Tarih-i Cevdet): “When this unfortunate news [the partitioning of Poland-Lithuania] reached the Sublime Porte, it was a warning to us. For this reason the Ottomans chose to complete the essential military and financial reform as soon as possible” (Ahmed Cevdet Pasha, 1270-1301 [1853-1883]). Moreover, some Ottoman statesmen did indeed condemn the partitions. Karolina Suchodolska (ca.1835 – ca.1900), daughter of the chief organizer of the Polish political activities on the Bosphorus, Michał Czaykowski (Mehmed Sadık Pasha, 1804 – 1886), told the Polish traveller Antoni Zaleski (1858 - 1895) that her father’s friend, former commander of the janissary troops and serasker of Sultan Mahmud II, Benderli Hüseyin Pasha, recognized only seven European monarchs: kings of Poland-Lithuania, Bohemia, England, France, Spain, Hungary and the Pope. He regarded the King of Prussia as Poland-Lithuania’s vassal. According to Suchodolska’s account, Czaykowski visited Benderli Hüseyin Pasha in the company of the ambassador of Prussia. The Pasha, persistent in his convictions, did not want to allow at any cost the representative of Prussia to sit next to Czaykowski. Czaykowski did his utmost to ease the situation. As a response to his pleas the Pasha is recorded as having said: “If you are insisting, he can sit down but only on the chair. You, in turn, take a place next to me on the divan. In my household I cannot bear the sight of a vassal sitting next to his lord. No matter what has happened, in my books they are merely your vassals” (Zaleski, 1887). Clearly, the Ottoman dignitary did not only disapprove of the disappearance of Poland-Lithuania but also was aware of the important role that the Ottoman Empire’s northern neighbour once played on the map of Europe.

Moreover, when Witold Jodko-Narkiewicz (1864 – 1924) was appointed in 1919 as the first delegate of the independent Poland to the Ottoman Empire, he remembered that the Grand Vizier of Sultan Selim III, Izzet Mehmed Pasha (1743 – 1812), promised to take care of the keys to the building of the Polish ambassador in Istanbul until Poland-Lithuania regained its independence. (Chmielowska, 2006). The building was located on a side street running from the main avenue Grande Rue de Pera (today’s Istiklâl Caddesi) to the pier in Tophane. In order to commemorate the location of the last Polish legacy to the Sublime Porte, this street, which today bears the name Nur-i Ziya Sokağı, was called Leh Sokağı (Rue de Pologne, Polish Street) throughout the nineteenth century until the 1950s.

Leh Sokağı

In this context, the story of Kajetan Aksak (d. 1824), the last Polish deputy to the Sublime Porte before the partitions, certainly deserves a closer look. Aksak never came to terms with the partitions of Poland-Lithuania. According to a Polish nineteenth century Orientalist, Ignacy Pietraszewski (1796 – 1869), not only did the last deputy never leave the Ottoman Empire but also did his best for years to make the Ottoman statesmen aware of the great injustice that had been done to Poland-Lithuania by its neighbours (Pietraszewski, 1989). Since Aksak was convinced that only the monarch who had appointed him to his function could call him back, he continued his service as an envoy of Poland-Lithuania until the last days of his life in 1824. What is more, he observed the routine of Polish deputies from earlier times. Like his predecessors he spent half of the year in the small flat at Leh Sokağı, which he rented and which was located next to the former embassy. Aksak collected all the documents pertaining to Poland-Lithuania and organized a small archive in that flat. He spent the other half of the year in a house in Ortaköy. Aksak would regularly attend the daily meetings of the Ottoman Divan and like in the pre-partition period he would take a seat in a room for the dragomans (translators). Ottoman dignitaries, who felt sorry for him, continued to pay him the same honours they paid to the dragomans of other states. In the same way Aksak’s kavas (guard) unchangeably served him until his last days. Zaleski recounts in his travelogue that whenever Ottomans saw Aksak’s guard, they would say with pity: “Here is the shadow of a kavas, of a dragoman, of a state that was wiped away from the world map!” (Zaleski, 1887).      

Although the embassy building went up in flames in 1822, Polish travellers recall that in the late 19th century a small chapel commemorating the former embassy could be found next to the building no 8 at Leh Sokağı (Łątka, 2001). It is noteworthy that the street experienced a short renaissance during the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-78. Polish émigrés set up a recruitment bureau there for soldiers who volunteered to join a Polish legion that was going to fight in the war on the Ottoman side. For decades the Polish Street was a place of pilgrimage for Polish travellers to Istanbul. Today, however, there are no traces left of the above-mentioned chapel and no commemorative board reminds passersby of the historical importance of that place. Hardly anyone remembers that the street was once called the “Polish Street” and the neighbourhood around it was commonly known as the Polish neighbourhood (leh mahallesi).     

Select Bibliography:

1. Ahmed Cevdet Pasha, Tarih-i Cevdet, v.5 (Istanbul: Matbaa-yi Ümeyre, 1270-1301 [1853-1883])
2. Chmielowska, Danuta, Polsko-tureckie stosunki dyplomatyczne w okresie międzywojennym (Warszawa: Dialog, 2006)
3. Kołodziejczyk, Dariusz, Turcja (Warsaw: Trio, 2000)
4. Łątka, Jerzy S., Odaliski, poturczeńcy i uchodźcy. Z dziejów Polaków w Turcji (Cracow, Universitas, 2001)Pietraszewski, Ignacy, Uroki Orientu (Olsztyn: 1989)
5. Sokolnicki, Michał, “Polityka Piłsudskiego a Turcja”, Niepodległość, v.6 (London: Wydawn. Instytutu Józefa Piłsudskiego Poświęconego Badaniu Najnowszej Historii Polski, 1958.
6. Zaleski, Antoni, Z wycieczki na Wschód (Warsaw: Nakład Gebenthnera i Wolffa, 1887)


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Paulina Dominik obtained her Master degree in Oriental Studies at the University of Oxford. For more on the author see: https://oxford.academia.edu/PaulinaDominik