The travel text describes the town of Freiwaldau, where there is a ruin of a Piast castle that supposedly belonged to the Bishopric of Wrocław. Mention is made of the numerous fires that consumed the castle, including when Duke Charles Ferdinand was Bishop of Wrocław. The note goes on to mention the Polish memorial plaque placed on the left front wing of the castle (Source: Tygodnik Illustrowany, Warsaw 1880, Series 3, T:9, p. 413, after: University of Lodz Digital Library).

A modernised reading of the text

Polish souvenir in Freiwaldau.

On the road from Ziegenhals to Grlifenberg, in a charming valley punctuated by a ribbon of the swift Biela River, surrounded by mountains thickly covered with fir and spruce forests, lies the town of Freiwaldau.

Anyone undergoing treatment in the Grifenberg water cure must be thoroughly acquainted with the town, as it is the granary of Grlifenberg; therefore at least a couple of times a week almost all local patients make the trek to Freiwaldau to stock up on everything that can make their stay in the water cure centre more pleasant.

In 1879, I spent two months in Griifenberg. Notwithstanding my need to search for impressions, especially as it was impossible to find them locally, even with the most vivid imagination, I visited Freiwaldau as often as my unpleasant treatment would allow me. So I got to know the town well, and it pains me to have to point out here that although it is Silesian, it has retained no traces of even its Slavic origin.

You can hear German everywhere in the streets, they praise God in German in the church, and I don't know if you could find a few people in the whole town with whom you could communicate in Czech or Polish. The Germans reign supreme and unchallenged here, and perhaps only Biela whispers something about centuries gone by and the dead Slavic nationality, sprinkling the thresholds of houses already occupied by a world that is foreign to us.

Freiwaldau is not a remarkable town and will certainly not attract tourists, but it is characterised by a truly German order and a certain wealth and comfort which is very much to its liking.

Staying in Griifenberg, I almost always visited Freiwaldau, in the company of the late Maksymilian Zawistowski, whose bathing friendship brought me close to him, and whose life was cut short violently.

An ardent admirer of his homeland's relics, with a sincere love for everything on which the national past rested, Zawistowski was characterised by a strange instinct for finding monuments connected with the past, even if only in the loosest connection. It was also to this instinct that I owe the discovery of our relics in this western end of the now completely Germanised Silesia.

Near the market square, near a rather modest church, in a somewhat secluded and hidden place, shaded by lush green trees, rises an old castle. It used to be fortified when it was young; its thick walls guarded its safety, and the deep, water-filled ditch seemed to be an affront to the enemy's power. Today... what has not changed? - Today the walls are crumbling, the fortified castle, instead of the clanking of armour, hears the rustle of chancellor's pens on paper, and in the deep gully, although the water is still flowing as before, but feeling its powerlessness, it has allowed itself to be wrapped in a green shell of mould, which seems to be turning it into one motionless, dead mass.

The Freiwaldauski castle is sadder than the others, because it has been abandoned and even converted in parts - so one also walks through it with a feeling of some strange regret, maybe for what used to be, maybe for what is now...

When the Freiwaldauski castle was built I cannot explain. The only thing I learned on the spot was that it had belonged to the Vratislavsky bishopric for a long time and that it had been badly burned several times, which completely changed its appearance. One of these fires took place at a time when the Polish Duke Charles Ferdinand was Bishop of Wrocław; it is to him that the castle owes its restoration, and to him that I owe the pleasure of finding in the germanised Freiwaldau a Polish souvenir, which has been reproduced here in a woodcut print.

As is well known, the Bishopric of Wrocław, subordinate since ancient times to the Bishopric of Gniezno, considered itself a purely Polish bishopric until the 14th century. From Cracow to Wrocław and from Wrocław to Cracow went these dignitaries of the church incessantly, and yet Władysław Łokietek transferred Nankier of the Oksza coat of arms from the Bishopric of Cracow to that of Wrocław.

The year 1326 is considered by our historians to be the last year of Polish influence in Wrocław; the bishops, though of Polish origin, were now increasingly inclined towards foreigners, and under the Jagiełło family, Przecław of Pogorzelec even wanted to free himself from the influence of the Bishop of Gniezno. Přeclav's successors, Piast Duke Wladyslaw of Legnica and Duke Friedrich of Legnica, were already Germans by their feelings, from where they were carried away by the Czechs, Germans and Italians themselves.

It was not until the reign of Sigismund III Vasa that a Pole was again appointed to the episcopal throne. This was the third son of this king and Catherine of Raccoa, Karol Ferdinand, born d. 7 October 1613. In 1640, after Stanisław Łubieński, he was elected Bishop of Płock, and died at Wyszków on 9 May 1655.

When the Freiwaldauski castle was badly damaged during the reign of Charles Ferdinand as bishop, he had it restored, and to commemorate this restoration he placed a plaque on the left front wing, which is perhaps the only Polish memorial on this western piece of land, now completely German.