The text describes the "graves of our countrymen in Italy", including those in the Padua region and Bologna, such as the grave monument to Senator Matuszewicz and General Grabiński. Further Italian regions with various Polish sepulchral monuments are listed, from St Mark's Church in Florence and a monument to Duke Stanisław Poniatowski to a monument to Duke Michał Oginski in the church of Santa Croce in Florence (Source: "Tygodnik Illustrowany", Warsaw 1871, Series 2, T:8, pp. 265-266, after: Digital Library of the University of Łódź).

A modernised reading of the text.

Graves of our countrymen in Italy

When wandering abroad, especially in distant countries, a strange feeling is usually aroused by the grave of a countryman we meet. We stop and stare at a humble stone slab with an unfamiliar, often completely alien name, more interested than many a rich foreign sarcophagus, and we would like to learn more about the life of the one who has laid his bones under a foreign sky. In Italy such impressions are not difficult to come by, as a large number of our people have rested there, either artists seeking inspiration, learning and models in this classical land, or people afflicted in our country with a widespread chest illness, usually striving there for their last breath, amidst the scent of lemons and oranges, for a final, pre-grave illusion.

In Venice, perhaps, one encounters the fewest such tombstones; we have perhaps become accustomed to hard land and find it distasteful to lay our bones in the mud and lagoons. In the Bay of Padua, at that favourite university of our fame, we find quite a few of them. In his "Notes from a Journey", Kraszewski meticulously listed all the Polish tombstones in the local St Anthony's church, even those that are no longer to be found, and were only recorded in Starowolski.

In Bologna, in the lovely Camposanto, one of the most beautiful cemeteries in Italy after the Carthusian of Pisa, there are two splendid white marble tombstones, one to the memory of Senator Matuszewicz, the other to that of General Grabiński, both deceased in that city. Rome has up to two hundred of our sepulchral monuments scattered in various churches, from various eras and of various importance; of these, some belong to historical monuments.

In the churches of St Claudius and St Stanislaus, one can find almost only Polish tombstones. Few Poles have reached Naples, and their graves are lost in the three hundred churches there and in the splendid cemetery, which looks like a great city of the dead.

In Florence, the former capital of Tuscany, we have managed to collect a few of the more significant Polish monuments, and apparently the city has no more. We enclose their description and images for the readers of the Weekly.

In St Mark's Church in Florence, whose cloister has been turned into a museum for several years now, where a multitude of ancient frescoes lure a large public through the cells and corridors, there is a splendid, heavy-set and rather unpalatable gothic architecture monument to the son-in-law of the last Polish king, Prince Stanisław Poniatowski, treasurer of Lithuania, in the side chapel to the left of the great altar. This prince was the son of Kazimierz, chamberlain of the Crown, and Apolonia, née Ustrzycka, castellan of Przemyśl; he was born d. 23 November 1754, and died in Florence on 13 February 1833. He owed his entailership not so much to merit or intellectual capacity as to his family position; nevertheless, he was a noble man of lofty and progressive ideas above the epoch in which he lived. He was the first, in his extensive Corson estate, to legalize the peasants, granting them personal freedom.

Prince Stanislaus spent much of his life travelling in foreign countries, where he was known everywhere as a patron and protector of the arts. From his Italian wife, who died at an extremely advanced age in the past year only, he left a daughter buried beside him, and two sons still living, princes Charles and Joseph. Both were unmarried and, apart from their surname, had no connection with the country. Prince Charles, heir to the still considerable, though heavily indebted estates in Tuscany, inherited a love of music from his father. He writes and arranges operas and presides over all the concerts and musical associations in Florence. His palazzo in this city, on the frontage of which the Ciolo remains engraved, is still the focus of artists and actors from all over the world.

The young dukes made no effort to create a monument for their father, entrusting the work to one of the most prominent Florentine sculptors, Mr Villa, who wanted to create something related to the life of the deceased, but had no idea of the country or even of his types and costumes. What came out of it, therefore, was a clumsy box, in broken Gothic taste. In the centre, the deceased prince, raised from the grave by an angel with a perpetual trumpet, looks a little caricatured; on the sides some allegorical, incomprehensible figures, and underneath in bas-relief a group of seemingly Corsican peasants crowning their benefactor. One has to guess, however. At the foot of this tombstone, a plaque indicates the resting place of the duke's daughter.

In the splendid church of S. Maria di Novella in Florence, in the monastery courtyard, encircled by a marble wall of marvellous beauty, among the numerous monuments in the frames of this wall, there is still a fresh slab of white marble, and on it the coats of arms of the Czetwertyński and Plater families combined. This is the tombstone of Mary of the Plater family, Duchess Czetwertyńska, who died here in 1825.

The Church of Santa Croce in Florence, that magnificent basilica with a marble façade costing millions but not commensurate with the vast size and solemnity of the interior, is the Italian Pantheon. In it are monuments to all the greats of the nation, alongside Macchiavelli - Dante, Galileo, many men of science, painters and artists. One feels small in the face of so much greatness gathered together. As many as four Polish monuments have squeezed into this magnificent temple.

The most magnificent of these, in one of the side chapels, is the tomb of Countess Zofia Zamojska, wife of Stanisław Ordynat, sister of Adam and Konstanty, the Dukes Czartoryski, and the first founder of the Charitable Society in Warsaw. This foundation alone is a magnificent work and could have provided many details of her life. But, alas! we are unaware of them, so let us only mention the monument. It is magnificent, perhaps the most magnificent of all the Polish tombs in Italy, a masterpiece by the excellent Florentine sculptor Bartolini, who died a few years ago.

The idea of the monument is not new, yes, it is reproduced from the sarcophagi of the 17th century, of which so many can still be seen in every Venetian church, but it is serious, solemn and striking. The figure of the deceased rests on a stone sarcophagus, as if on a bed of sorrows, in an outstretched posture, with her arms folded over her chest and a cross pressed against them. Her features are probably faithfully preserved, either from nature or from an image, the serenity of her face is like the reflection of a serene life, her eyes seemingly only slightly closed, her mouth as if to whisper a last prayer. Something solemn, seriously painting the last act of life, sad and poignant at the same time, shines through in the whole arrangement of this tomb. Such, it seems, and not any other, should be the monument of the virtuous, such a tribute and honour for the merits of this life.

We have no need even to speak of the artistic merits of this beautiful monument; the name of Bartolini, the most famous of contemporary Italian sculptors, is already the best vouch for them. It is also in everything: in the figure, in the arrangement and in the accessories that the hand of the master is known here. Let us just notice the folds of the shirt in which the deceased is dressed, as they, especially on the sleeves, give such an illusion that, when touched, one can only feel the marble in them. On the marble wall above the sarcophagus, carved in the shape of a medallion, is the image of the Virgin Mary with the Infant Jesus in her arms; above her is the Latin inscription.

The front wall of the sarcophagus is decorated with the coats of arms of the houses related to the Czartoryski and Zamojski families, and on one of the sides the following inscription:

"Her beautiful qualities, rare virtues, indefatigable charity, great piety - were for the family and for many a model and a lesson and will leave a long memory."

In the same chapel rests the corpse of Julia Cieszkowska, mother of Count August, our learned philosopher. The place has so far been marked only by the name of the deceased; however, a beautiful tombstone in the shape of a sepulchral door, the work of Teofil Lenartowicz, is currently being cast from bronze.

Both the design and execution of this door are exquisite, and truly worthy of standing next to Bartolini's beautiful work.

In another chapel, in the same church of S. Croce, there is a beautiful white marble monument, erected over the corpse of Duke Michał Ogiński. On a high granite base, the figure of a woman rests on a column that holds the bust of the deceased. At the foot of the column a burning lamp, below it the Oginskis' coats of arms. The idea is somewhat worn, but the execution of the monument is exquisite. In our country it would be considered a masterpiece, in Italy it disappears unnoticed among the others.

In a row with the previous one, on the same wall, is another, the last tombstone of the artist-painter Michał Bogory Skotnicki, who died in Florence in 1808. He died in Florence in 1808 and his works have been forgotten; the marble only reminds Florentines and travellers of them. We saw a duplicate of this tombstone in the Church of the Virgin Mary in Kraków. Doubtless the deceased was descended from there, and his affectionate wife wanted to have him there as well. Both these tombstones were carved by an Italian; you can tell by the finish and delicacy of the engraving.

Above the broken column sits a reclining woman with her face half-covered, a figure of grief and sorrow well expressed. At the foot of the column, emblems of the deceased's occupations: scattered paintbrushes, a palette and a lyre.

So much for the tombs in Florence. More of them are unknown, unless what insignificant plaque escaped our attention.