II
Warsaw (Warszawa) is a city of more than 400,000 inhabitants. As is well known, it is situated on the river Vistula (Wisla), a broad river, over which of late years a great iron bridge has been built from the square where the castle is situated to the suburb Praga, so tragically celebrated in the history of Poland. I don't know if it was in consequence of Hauch's beautiful song that the stream in its winter dress, full of grey floating ice, appeared so melancholy.
The city is of great extent, but with its decayed grandeur and the horrible memories it calls up at every turn, it makes a mournful impression. In the last century, next to Paris, it was the most brilliant city in Europe; now it is a Russian provincial town. It then had the character of prodigal splendour; now it is a forlorn, neglected place, which declines more and more every day, not the least thing being done by the authorities for its appearance and improvement. It cuts one to the heart to see the wretchedly paved streets, or the terrible old sandstone figures in the Saxon garden, on coming from a luxurious city like Vienna, or one which has blossomed out with such rapidity as Berlin.
For whereas the capitals of countries elsewhere are generally the object of the rulers' care, almost of their tenderness, and cities elsewhere from mere self-love take heed of beauty and convenience, and strive to provide as great attractions for country folks and for foreigners as possible, Warsaw is the capital of a country whose existence the government does not recognise, and is a city whose pride
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