The text gives a literary description of the Galician castle of Zborov and its surroundings. Information is also given from Dr Janota's book 'O wodach lekarskiach bardyowskich', Benedykt Zudar from Olnoek is mentioned, as well as the Rakoczy family, who owned the estate after the 16th century. The appearance of the castle ruins is also described (Source: Tygodnik Illustrowany, Warsaw 1866, T:14, pp. 25-26, after: Digital Library of the University of Łódź).

A modernised reading of the text

Zborow Castle.

The round, rocky peaks of the Beskids, one behind the other, have already covered the Biecz towers behind us, the beautiful banks of the Ropa and the lively Gorlice road, - and a wild, forestless landscape has opened up before us. The big trees have almost disappeared, and dark green juniper covers everything in sight. Above the boulders of the streams, like cranes above the water, sat the cottages of the Rusyns, and the numerous Orthodox churches each shine with three silvery domes.

If it were not for the crosses by the roads leading through the empty country, you would say that it is not people who have sown a handful of grain in the crevices of the rocks somewhere on the mountains, but birds that farm here. Apart from oats, a little flax, potatoes and hay, which the diligent mountaineer picks up from the meadows, nothing else grows here. So everything tells you about the poverty, from the horse that feeds on thistle like a donkey, to the Russian whose song I heard when entering the village of Zhtlanov:

"Wyjdu za worota, luj se zadumaja,
Lude ora!, sijutja niezło nemaju.
Ul rai it ja lila marne w żurbi a Ir topoli,
Nichtoż my ni ne porady i bidnoma syroli.".

Following the dragging note of this sorrowful song, I walked into the hut where the highlander was singing it, working with his underage son on planing shingles. The cottage stood in the middle of a treeless emptiness, surrounded by meadows that were not chopped, but almost shaved, and which were divided into various pieces by a multitude of shingles. And indeed, the Russian hummed the truth, that he should be proud in the field, and with the cuckoo's voice lament his orphanhood; for this land only gives rise to sadness, when you look at its barrenness. What, then, is the poor highlander to do in such a field? - behold, the cattle will go to forage with the lazy boy, and the old man sits in the hut, ploughing, chopping, thinking how to gather supplies with the frypan.

The whole life of the villages is not, as in our case, working on the fertile land, but is concentrated in the homesteads, in the meticulous household. These are large, long huts, with a granary, barn, stable and a multitude of annexes and cells under one roof; here for cabbage, there for shingles, there for crockery, utensils and winter supplies. From here the house is full of life, and all the staff are working with wood. Hence the large inns with attics, so that a market could be held and poverty could be relieved with a fair.

Recently people have also settled in these wildernesses. It was only in the 18th century that the Wielkopolscy settled the village and church in Zduny, and hardly any of these mountain colonies date back to earlier times. Necessarily, that is the end, the last extremity: behind those mountains is already the Hungarian land. The day was beautiful. Blue and brilliantly painted mountains. As if to complete the picture, a poor man descended from the mountain, seeing those who had come to the inn for a rest, and gypsies surrounded us, wanting to take advantage of the travellers who would not soon appear again in these parts.

The dress of the villagers, with its dark colours, matched the tone of the whole area. The girls in navy blue corsets and skirts, the peasant in a grey short tunic or in a long cape with a fringed hood, long hair, a huge hat with a curved brim or a cap with a mullet, like the Cherokees wear. They speak both Russian and Polish; a Jew and a Gypsy, in addition to these two languages, can usually speak German and Hungarian. From Konieczna the country begins to fall slightly as it rises. Having passed the ruins of the old chamber, you're in Hungarian territory, in the Šariš county, in the midst of Slovaks, who are almost no different in language from our Tatra mountaineers and Beskydy Ruthenians.

These tribes are without nobility and literature, and therefore had no one to develop their language, which became as Lech, Czech and Rus spoke it. At this introduction to the neighbouring land, everything immediately changed: the countryside almost suddenly became lush and cheerfully green. At first, only the bells of cattle scattered across the alder meadows and small shepherdesses running out onto the road to watch the traveller told us that there were villages somewhere in these still empty, treeless mountain slopes.

And you would be glad, as if entering the halls and hallways of an empty palace, to ask: are you at home? But soon the carriage ran up the mountain and a majestic view of the great ruins of Zborov Castle opened up. This is the first fallen watchtower, she said sadly: a neighbour at home, but sad, in the deepest chamber. These ruins surrounded the backwoods of the mountains, and further on a lone Orthodox church appeared in an open field; and again it was empty, because the village, like all Slovak villages, modest and shy, hid somewhere in a ravine.

Further on, the town of Zborów, with two quasi-castles of two heir counts: Erdódy and Sirmay. Having given this picture of the surroundings, according to the travel notes of Mr J. Lepkowski, we will supplement it with information on the castle, taking it from Dr Janota's book "O wodach lekarskich bardyowskich" (Krakow 1858), where this diligent researcher traces the references to the town of Zborov as early as 1378, concluding with the mention that a Greek-Catholic synod was held there in 1690. Why don't any of them think of making a decent and cheap map of central Europe, where such important events are now taking place?

It is true that such things need to be devised quickly and executed quickly. In this respect, we will never be able to cope with the Germans or the French, because in our country, not days, not weeks, not months, but years are used for almost every undertaking. There are also maps, but what kind? Here and there in bookshops and warehouses you can find a map of Germany, which does not contain exactly what you are looking for. All the towns and important points mentioned in the newspapers are conspicuously absent from this map, its colouring is blurred, it is difficult to distinguish one country from another, and all the more so to find railways, transport routes and so on.

At the same time, German maps, which with transport, loss of money, bookseller's profit, etc. cost three or five zlotys, or at most a rouble, apart from the accuracy of production, goodness of paper and exemplary marking of towns, are also assembled in a very practical way and have cardboard or linen covers, protecting them from fast deterioration. In our country this is unthinkable, as the bookbinder himself would charge as much for a cardboard or linen cover as a German map costs here.

So they say: let someone provide us with such a large purchase as the German or French publishers can count on, and we will give our editions back to them at the same price. But what is the basis for such a buy-back? By hitting the needs of the general public. The war broke out... already in Germany in a few days a lot of maps are ready. It's a good speculation, so they take advantage of it. And not only the bigger cities, but every town is rushing to seize the opportunity.

For example, we have a mapping of Germany published in Glogau, on a large format sheet folded into sixty-four parts, with decent covers, and it costs five Polish zlotys in one of the local bookshops. What can Głogów afford, can Warsaw not afford it? After all, it's a small town, with only a dozen or so thousand inhabitants, like Radom or Siedlce, and I doubt that there could be first-class establishments there. But it is certain that there are people there who understand their business and do not fall asleep when they can make a profit.

Mr. Dzwonkowski, I do not know when, but a very long time ago, announced a subscription for a mappa of Europe in four sections, and comparatively speaking, even allowing for various publishing difficulties, the price of this mappa was not at all exaggerated. A year after the issue of the prospectus, the first section appeared; again, a year later, the second. There was then a long break and we do not know whether the third section saw the light of day, but it is certain that subscribers are still waiting for the whole thing.

So how can we expect the public to trust our prospectus and our publishing house? Such a mappa of Europe, published without long delays, would have been a good deal, and now in particular the entire remaining edition could easily be sold out, as recently there was a shortage of foreign mappas in almost all bookshops for some ten days, the stock of which was sold out in a very short time, and there were many demands. It's no secret that we can't get rid of advertisements here. We recently received a visit from an acquaintance who arrived in Warsaw a few days ago.

After the usual greetings and enquiries about health, good luck and so on, a conversation ensued between us about the current state of urban relations. - There's one thing I must complain about, said the guest, as it's very important to me. I told you that I had come to Warsaw with the intention of beginning a cure, as my health has been in a deplorable state for several years. So my first visit was to the doctor, who even gave me good hope, although the treatment would be long and unpleasant.

But guess where I gave my second visit. - How can I guess. - So see, here are the notes in which I write down. Just above the town, on a fairly high, and on the north and west sides of a steep hill, overgrown to the very top with dense trees, stand the ruins of a once mighty Rakoczy stronghold, with a magnificent view over the surrounding villages. One of the earliest owners of this castle, and perhaps its founder, was a certain Benedict Zudar of Olnoek, also called Benedict of Makovica, who was unfriendly to neighbouring Bardyov. In the 16th century, the estate of Makovica, including the castle and Zborov, was in the possession of the Scred family, followed by the Rakocy family.

Looking around these picturesque ruins, it is easy to see that the castle was not originally as extensive as it was in the later 17th and early 18th centuries. The earliest part of it was a small three-storey edifice rising on a sheer rocky peak, built in the shape of a horseshoe, without a courtyard inside, with a large and high quadrangular corner watchtower standing out from the south-east. The castle rooms, as you can still easily recognise, were slim, the walls thick, all built of sandstone.

Later, on the south side, from where access to the castle was easiest, it was strengthened with an annex stretching in an arc, clinging with its arms to the main part of the castle situated a little higher, and probably at the same time extended to the west with a three-storey edifice. This extension was provided with semicircular towers. Finally, the whole building was encircled by a massive perimeter wall, in some places bent or sharply angled, and fortified with towers.

Inside, stables, living quarters for the castle servants and storerooms were added to it. Underneath were cellars; between the wall and the buildings adjoining it and the upper part of the castle was a courtyard. The Rakoší chateau looks most beautiful from a large clearing south of it, or from Ostra-Horka, above the Bardovské spas, from where there is a wonderful view of the surrounding mountain ranges. The local people do not call the castle or the mountain on whose lower level it rises Makovica, as it can be seen on maps, but they call it Rakočí Castle.

Makovitsa is a mountain about two hours from Zborov, located among Russian villages, quite considerable, from which the owners of adjacent estates took the title. This is how the aforementioned Zudar wrote himself Benedict of Makovitsa; some of the earlier bishops of the Rus' Munkács also wrote themselves princes of Makovitsa; the same title was also used by František Rakoczy, the famous leader of the Hungarian uprising at the beginning of the last century, who died at Rodosto in Asia on 9 April 1736.