No More Learning

He hides his burning anger under the mask of appro-
bation, and invites Marya to his castle. His son is
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? MALCZEWSKI. 365
then, in company with Marya's father, sent to repel the
invasion of the Pagan Tartars at some distance from
the castle. On his return, after having conquered the
enemy, he finds that his wife is murdered. He deserts
his home, and is never heard of more.
This remarkable poem created but a feeble impres-
sion at first. The critics of the day alleged against the
poet that his taste was unrefined, and that the way he
chose was a way leading only to error, but it was not
long before these impressions were dispelled and utterly
annihilated.
This poem, woven on the circulating local tradition,
was written in a bold and artistic style; the scenes and
incidents painted as with the brush of a great master.
Here we see, for the first time, on the Russian back-
ground, led out into sight two figures, after the ancient
Polish fashion -- the ideals of Polish feelings, truly na-
tional, presented as if taken living from the history,
sinking rapidly into the past, -- an apparition, as it were,
of a Polish Palatine, -- the ideal of a Polish aristocrat --
and a sword-bearer, the father of Mary, also an ideal of
a Polish nobleman. Mary, again, is the ideal of a
Polish young woman who, with a pure and lofty feel-
ing, unites resolution and extraordinary courage, then
adding to it the thought of the invasion of the Tar-
tars, taken from the very heart of the annals of Polish
history -- magnificent picture of Ukraine and its de-
lightful scenery, all brought out in almost tangible
shapes and embellished by the deepest feelings and
loftiest thoughts and nicest shadings, makes one think
that Lord Byron, whom Malczewski knew personally,
had exerted powerful influence over the Polish poet.
In "Marya" there is a tearing of the spirit to pieces
by strokes of adversity and grief that characterize some
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? 366 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
of Lord Byron's poems; but still it is not the grief of an
English lord, but of a deep and earnest thought over the
misfortunes of native land, and a reecho of the intense
feeling and the sorrows of Ukraine's vast steppes,*
all this being brought out in the beautiful Ukraine.
With poetical feeling and native qualifications he was,
as it were, permeated by surrounding nature; he
dreamed himself into the local traditions and souvenirs,
and turned their native hues into poetry -- and there
we see the first strong impressions of romanticism.
This great poem breathes with pure feelings of religion
and morality, overspread with the expression of plaint-
ive and painful sadness which the readers see through
their tears. Mishaps and disappointments of life are
the intrinsic strength and charm of the poem. Fresh-
ness, coloring, and almost tangible plasticity are the ex-
ternal qualities. A strange historical reverie, introduced
for the first time into Polish poetry by Malczewski,
became the characteristic of other poets; not only the
mystery of the scene which, besides the hidden objects
and gradual unfolding adds to it a great power, but
also the avoiding of the elucidation, as if on purpose,
by scattering the particulars, and fantastic visions
are interspersed throughout this renowned produc-
tion. When this poem was once understood it spread
throughout the nation by several successive editions,
and finally became so popular it mattered not where a
Pole's foot trod he could not do without it. " Marya "
is written after the manner of an epopee. Malczewski
wrote also other compositions in verse: "A Journey
to Mont Blanc;" "The Carnival of Warsaw;" "To
Julia; " "To Peter and Paul. " Besides, he wrote the
tales of "Iphigenia," "Atenais," and "The Journey. "
* Prairies.
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? MALCZEWSKI. 367
Malczewski was born in 1792, in the province of
Volhynia, and came from a distinguished family. His
father was a general in the Polish army. He received
his initiatory education at Dubno, and then went to
college at Krzemieniec, where he attended lectures on
mathematics by Joseph Czech. In 1811 he entered
the army, and in a few years became quite distinguished
as engineer under Col. Malet; but breaking one of his
legs, he in 1816 left the ranks. During the following
five years he gave himself up to literary pursuits, and
traveled in France, Switzerland, Italy and Germany.
In 1824 he returned to Warsaw, but the experience of
living in a large city taught him to appreciate the mode
of life that was not degenerate ; hence he quitted Warsaw
and rented an estate, the village of Hryno? w, in the county
of W? odzimierz, and thus avoiding noisy amusements
and social gatherings, he gave up his time to literature.
An interesting love affair between himself and a
Polish lady by the name of Kuczyn? ska forms quite an
episode in the distinguished poet's life. Having for a
long time lived in a state of magnificence he finally, by
being very generous to those who needed his assistance,
became reduced in circumstances. He died in 1826.
His "Marya" went through thirty different edi-
tions; the last was published (illustrated) by Z? upan? ski in
1865. The poem was translated into several languages.
EXTRACTS FROM " MARYA. "
The Kozak* passing through the ravine wide,
Where only howling wolves and Tartars hide,
* Here "Kozak does not mean Cossack, a Russian soldier, but a
sort of an attache of noblemen in Ukraine, and we may add in the
provinces of Podolia and Volhynia. These Kozaks were generally
selected from the comeliest and best developed young peasants, and
being traioed as messengers to duty, were, as occasions required, sent
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? 368 POETS AND POETKY OF POLAND.
. Approached the statue where dark shadows throw
Likeness of specters buried long ago;
Took off his cap, and thrice the cross he signed,
Then with his message hastening like the wind
Upon his snorting horse away he flew
Where Buh glides on, a streak of silvery blue.
As the bold Kozak fleetly rides along
He hears the hidden foes that round him throng;
But his good horse, as though he understands,
Bears him through blooming fields and thistly lands.
Naught speeds more swiftly underneath the sun;
Like to an arrow from the bow he wings,
His head bent low his horse's neck upon.
And through wild causeways rush these desert kings,
Rider and steed -- two forces blent in one.
Thus loses Wac? aw* all -- no more to find
His happiness and faith in human kind.
He cannot wake his loved one from her rest --
She who was all to him of dear and best;
Whose noble spirit and angelic grace
Could shed illusion over falsehood's face.
How dark her death makes all the world appear!
Alone he strays, as in a desert drear,
Or by the statue on his loved one's tomb
He mourns the malice that has wrought her doom
And chased all tenderness from out his soul.
One bitter thought therein holds dark control --
even to distant places with important dispatches and messages of all
sorts, also carrying letters to and from postoffices. They had a pecu-
liarly picturesque dress, and were the heroes of many interesting
love affairs among the pretty girls of those beautiful provinces.
Each Kozak had a fine horse and a splendid equipment, including
a "nalmyka," a sort of a short whip made of several strands of
leather woven together, and a fancy handle. These Kozaks were
also the heroes of many love songs and Durrikas, and form an inter-
esting chapter, especially in the history of the Ukraine.
* Wac? aw, the betrothed of Mary ; pronounce Vatz-? av.
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? MALCZEWSKI. 3()9
" Why did I leave her to another's care? "
When in the pallid face that greets him there
He reads of all the struggles she has known.
Then deep reproaches make his heart their own.
Of her destruction and his own, the cause,
Before this thought his life's pulsations pause --
Then in his hands he hides his face to weep.
This mood is over soon, but all too deep
The wound within him festers, poison-frought;
Leaves in his once exalted soul a thought --
Shared by the exiles -- that will never sleep.
This noble youth, is he the earth's disgrace?
Ah! rather ask wherefore hath goodness place
Here, where all good with evil is denied,
Where death of parents profits to the child,
Where love of fellow beings is assumed
By those with envy of their joy consumed.
Where lofty roles and aspirations fail,
Revealing hypocrisies 'neath the veil,
And where but few the faithful hearts that blend
In love's divine ecstasy to end.
In describing "Marya" the poet says:
Though young, the winds of earthly pain
Have cast their breath upon her soul,
And, like the weary autumn blasts
That o'er the earth in anger roll
And wither flowers within the grove,
Have robbed her early hopes of love !
Within her beaming eye no more
Conflicting war of thought we see;
The flame that burned from lamp of love
And shone so happily on me
Now beams not, shows not e'en one spark,
Though with its smoke her brow is dark.
24
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? GOSZCZYN? SKI.
370
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? GOSZCZYN? SKI. 371
GOSZCZYN? SKI.
Seyerin Goszczyn? ski is different in qualifications
as a poet from other bards of the Ukraine. The choice
of his genius was the more gloomy side of her history
and the inherent qualities of her nature. It is the
creative spirit leading vice to a feast of revenge. Dark
clouds of fantasy ever avoiding the serene sky and
searching everywhere charms overcast with dismal-
ness, are his characteristics. Wild transports of pas-
sion, battles, treason and murders are the usual themes
of his poesy. His pictures and figures are not put
forth as the ideals of a mere illusion, as Zaleski's; not
in any melancholy, dissolving itself over a landscape,
as in Malczewski, but they are thrown on the back-
ground of wild nature with a complete truthfulness
and reality. Such elements he has introduced in his
poetry with impassioned delight, and yet he does not
offend aesthetic feeling nor morality. We have no
poet who could excel him in painting so truthfully the
scenery of nature -- nor one who could more admire
and appreciate its beauties. His genius is still more
to be appreciated when we lean; the fact that it is not
given to one and the same individual to excel in two
different things. -- to fathom the depths of passion and
to comprehend the grand and sublime respiration of
nature. "The Castle of Kanio? w " represents scenes
of bloody adventures which filled the whole of Ukraine
with horror and pain. Here the poet brought together
all the horrible events of that painfully memorable
epoch. He dramatized this tale, interweaving into it
incidents at which the soul is horrified, not at all re-
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? 372 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
lieved by introduction of any of the softening influ-
ences of heroic love at least burning faintly in the
depth of grief and revenge. He delineated, however,
the appalling reality, and placed its pictures in the
sight of his own poetical fastasy, illumed only by a
flame of a night's conflagration. Yet these wild and
terrible beauties are in fact the true beauties of a crea-
tive artist, -- the conception of the poem and its finish
of genius -- but perhaps its most striking features con-
sist in the prominence of figures and characters, --
uncommon individuality. Only great mental powers
could produce a poem like it.
Goszczynski's poetic spirit is strong, inflexible, deep
and fiery; wide as the river Dnieper, and boundless as
the limitless steppes: hence his poetic creations are
likenesses unto himself. Occasional incorrectness of
expression and the lack of clearness in the elucidation
of subjects is alleged against him, as also great haste
and precipitancy, but his buoyant spirit would not at
all times submit to certain precisions in composition.
While soaring through his beloved Ukraine, with its
beautiful scenes engraved upon his heart, he breathed
forth his inspirations untrammeled by any small obsta-
cles that lay in his way. Ukraine was his mother,
who nursed and fostered his poetic spirit; and it was
there where he spent his youth.
When Goszczyn? ski came into the Carpathian Moun-
tains, and having surveyed their gigantic proportions,
their scenery and their beauty, -- a lone wanderer
amidst this grandeur, -- he wrote a poem, " St John's
Eve," and proved himself, as in "The Castle of
Kanio? w," to be a master artist in the delineation of
nature's grandeur.
Severin had a different task from almost any other
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? GOSZCZYN? SKI. 373
poet before him. He cut loose from despondency and
ideals, and was the first to approach reality in the
spiritual world. He w T as the forerunner of bloody
and violent commotions; and Mickiewicz's "Ode to
Youth" was a sort of a political manifesto; so was
Goszczyn? ski^ ;% Feast of Revenge," -- a watchword
calling to action. His ''Three Strings" is also a
poem of great inspiration, of loftiness and harmony.
His latest poem, "The Mother of God, 1 ' turns the
heart and mind to those blessed sources whence flow
faith and life.
Besides these he wrote "The King of the Castle,"
in which he has shown that even in our prosaic age
and in every-day spheres of our lives there is poetry;
but the genius of the poet is here intensified to bring
into plain sight poetry where a common eye cannot
see it, by representing objects in charming and en-
chanting colors.
Goszczyn? ski belongs to that class of bards who,
whenever they strike with their rods there immediately
appear rich treasures of poesy. If he had not written
anything else beside "The King of the Castle," it
would be enough testimony that the soul of the author
possessed the power of the enchanter's wand, who has
awakened poesy in stones, and, like the second Moses,
can draw a spring of pure water to refresh and strength-
en the enfeebled and waning vital powers of the dying
Israelites.
His talent of presenting his characters in bold re-
lief is worthy of great admiration. With the artistic
brush of a Shakspeare he takes objects of ordinary
kind and lifts them up to higher ideal powers. In
some of his poems we can see a certain degree of ex-
aggeration, but he is never deficient in presenting facts
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? 374 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
on the foundation of historical truths.
His style, with
its customary freshness and beautiful coloring, is occa-
sionally unpolished and sometimes rough, but it is
always in harmony with the spirit and substance of
the subject. Goszczyn? ski comes out in his poems not
only as an artist, but he also represents himself as a
political individuality. In all his compositions he paints
prominently his youth, his dreamings, his tendencies
and action. From these we can discern his physiognomy.
Goszczyn? ski was born in the city of Lince, in Uk-
raine, in the year 1803. From 1811 to 1814 he at-
tended school at fathers Piiars; later he attended the
school at Winnica, and in 1816 at Human? ; but his
education was completed at Warsaw, where he formed
ties of mutual friendship with such distinguished men
as Bohdan Zaleski, Louis Zio? ? kowski, Maurice Moch-
nacki and Michael Grabowski. With the latter he
went to Vienna in 1818. Returning to Warsaw, he
was active in the general national agitation. After
the downfall of the revolution of 1831, toward the end
of the year he went to France, and immediately joined
the so-called sect of Towian? ski and became one of
the most ardent of his adherents. He was heard of from
France by publishing in Posen, in 1842, a tale, "The
King of the Castle. " In 1864 he wrote a beautiful
but somewhat mystic poem, "The Mother of God. "
In 1867, on the 4th of May, he sent his oration to the
cemetery of Montmorenci, at Paris, on the occasion
of unveiling the monument erected to the memory of
Adam Mickiewicz. He died in 1879.
His works were published: "The Castle of Ka-
nio? w," Warsaw, 1828; "Writings," in three volumes,
Breslau, 1852; "The King of the Castle," Posen,
1842; "The Mother of God," 1864.
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? GOSZCZYN? SKI.
CONSCIENCE.
In living body drest,
And yet a corpse, I keenly feel that I
Have long outliv'd myself, and vainly try
To find a place of rest.
Adverse my fate, most sad my doom;
I fear all things, -- all things fear me.
This radiant world to me is as a tomb; --
A specter cloth'd in mourning must I be.
Suffering as a penitent,
I roam the world with weary feet,
Where'er I turn some grief I meet.
Shunned by all things innocent,
While all most bitter 1 neath the sun
Forever to me closely clings;
But more than all my sufferings,
The phantom-like, nude skeleton
Of conscience comes a specter dire.
'Tis in the way before my eyes;
It ever eats my heart as fire,
And " suffer, son of baseness ! " cries.
Endure life that's a living death;
One time you courage lack'd to yield your breath
For your own glory and for others' good.
Fate brought you to a tyrant's presence then.
The impulse Heaven gave you you withstood,
Though with oppression moan'd your fellow men.
Eyes that the people's chains beheld
Overflowed with pity mild,
But the brave heart, with throbbing wild,
Almost tore the breast wherein it swelled.
Of action then had fully come the time;
Before you lay a new and noble life, --
Perhaps a tomb, -- but freedoms tomb sublime, --
The famous bed of glory after strife;
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? 376 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
Triumph's bright wreaths had budded for you sweet,
Hymns prepared your ears to greet
From grateful people you had sav'd. But, no!
You would not let your poor life go.
A cold ordeal yours has been,
Yet dark and dreadful was your sin.
Your duty you neglected. When I cried,
My voice to stifle long you tried.
Suffer yourself, -- struggle with dread, --
Torment yourself, -- let your heart bleed.
Since you'd not die when there was need,
Die while you are dead!
NEW YEAR'S PRAYER.
God! who art above the skies,
Wanderers we come. Most wise,
To Thee to bring
Our prayers, and sing
For our dear country's sake.
O God! our dear people bless, --
Poland's sons save from distress.
Break thralldom's chain!
And slavery's bane
From our dear people take!
O God! Wilt Thou bless our land-
Bless Poland's wandering band!
In freedom yet
May she forget
Grief ere her sun goes down!
Bless, O Lord, every one
Whom Poland claims her son, --
Who strives with zeal
That greater weal
May his loved country crown!
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? GOSZCZYN? SKI. 377
Oh, then, God of mercy! bless
Our sad watches with success.
May they be brief,
Our days of grief,
Leave to return -- never !
Look upon our sore distress.
Grand in Thy forgiveness,
May rays divine
Of Thy grace shine
Round our land forever!
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? POL.
378
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? pol. 379
POL.
Vincent Pol occupied the first place among the
true national poets. From the beginning of his poetic
career he was a faithful exponent of experienced im-
pressions. Pol is an inspired traditional bard, and ex-
quisite delineator of quiet scenes, of the home-hearth,
of patriarchal life, and always a lover of simplicity.
His poetical character is apparent in his "Songs of
Ianusz," "Pictures of the Mountaineers," in his
"Fugitive Pieces," and "Songs of Our Home. " His
" Songs of Ianusz " are not only nicely adapted to the
present generation, but they are that class of composi-
tions which future ages are waiting for -- because one
can see in them a whole living nation in its past, the
present, and the unfolding of the future. It has been
said of him that, if in the memory of men all traces of
national life were obliterated, and the little golden
book containing the "Songs of Ianusz" were pre-
served from destruction, the inspired historian could
guess correctly the character of Polish history that
was, and a new bard could equally draw his materials
from the same source, and could reveal its future.
"The Pictures from Life and Travels," in which
the poet presents his songs to the people through a
smiling tear, does not fall behind the "Songs of
Ianusz," for, even if their limits are somewhat nar-
rower, they have enriched the people with treasures
hitherto unknown, for they have struck deeper into the
heart than anything of the kind before. Nothing is
more beautiful than these pictures. With a heart full
of love Pol went into the mountains, looked over and
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? 380 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
around, guessed all and comprehended everything. He
makes the language of gigantic nature his own. " The
Songs about Our Land " are so many diamonds, which,
although glistening with various colors of different
Polish dialects, constitute nevertheless one bright and
luminous light for every part of the Fatherland.
In writing these songs it was the aim of the poet to
demolish the walls that separated different parts of
Poland by dialects and customs distinguishing them
from one another; to get them acquainted with each
other; lift their spirits above the common level sur-
rounding them; to place them together on high, and
to show them the beautiful land flowing with milk and
honey, and to say to them: " See, here! here is your
Canaan! "
It can be asserted with truth that stillness is the
most charming Muse of Pol. She always delights in
calm tranquillity. She leads him into the shades of
eternal woods, so that they might tell him of their im-
memorial history. She takes him to the ancient clois-
ters, where their somber appearance tells him of events
of long ago. Wrapped up in reveries of charming
tranquillity he sings in elegiac tones of fertile fields, of
meadows, mountains, and the magnificence of Polish
rivers. These songs are not vain Jeremiads, but the
expressions of grand reality, and as they are founded
on truth they only charm the more. Pol can, in a
thousand ways, present his native land in the most
interesting and beautiful colors.
With ever-present freshness Po? charms his readers
and insures his compositions a deserved reputation;
he knows how to knock at the heart, and the feeling of
his readers always approvingly responds. His diction
is stamped with manly age, comporting with the epoch
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? pol. 381
of which he is a distinguished representative. In him
one finds a certain fullness of form and vitality of in-
ternal powers, ever accompanied by a peculiar peace
of mind and an equilibrium between ardor and reflec-
tion leading the spirit into a world of calm resignation.
His family attachments are very strong, as is his at-
tachment to his fatherland and his native heath. In
his retrospection of the Past one can see the sorrows
and mourning of an orphan, but without any bitter-
ness, or any apparent feelings of deep affliction.
Thus far Pol has passed his life in literary pursuits,
not only with the greatest credit to himself, but also to
the pleasure and satisfaction of his countrymen. Some
of his poems are wrought with the skill of a great
artist, for, frequently while reading them, it seems as
if he sung them himself with a harmonious and charm-
ing melody.
Pol was born in 1807 in Galicia, where his father
occupied a place in the judicial department. He
was educated at Lublin, and after finishing the course
he traveled in Rhenish provinces. After the events of
1831, in which he took an active part, he returned to
his native surroundings, and then traveled over the
Carpathian Mountains, and resided for some time
among the mountaineers. In 1846 he experienced
fearful strokes of misfortune. In 1847 he organized
the chronological publication of the library of Ossolin? -
skis. In 1848 he obtained a diploma of "Doctor,"
and became a professor of geography in the University
of Cracow. He afterward retired to Lemberg, where,
we suppose, he still resides, full of years and honors.
His works were published in Posen, Cracow, Leip-
sic, Warsaw, and Lemberg. Among these we can
mention "Poetry of Vincent Pol," "Mohort," an he-
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? 382 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
roic rhapsody, " Getting Home after a Storm," " Pic-
tures of the Mountaineers," "Song of a Prisoner,"
"Memoirs of Winnicki," "My Aunt," "The Word
and the Fame," "The Street Organ," "Songs of Our
Home," "A Tale without an End. " Besides these
we can mention his "Dissertations on Natural Sci-
ence" and "Geographical Lexicon. " "The Songs of
Ianusz " (Pies? nie Ianusza) were all written by Yincent
Pol.
SONG OF THE MOUND.
" Leci lis? cie z drzewa,
Co wyros? o wolne. "
tree nursed by freedom!
Thy leaves are fast falling;
Over the mound yonder
A lone bird is calling:
There never was -- never --
One hope for thee, Poland;
The dream is departed,
Thy children have no land!
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? pol. 383
Flame wraps ev'ry village,
Destroyed is each city,
And voices of women
Rise calling for pity.
From home and from hearthstone,
In swarms all are hasting,
In fields of their labor
The ripe grain is wasting.
When children of Warsaw
Repeated her storj^,
It seemed as if Poland
Would conquer with glory.
They fought through the winter
To summer's sad waning;
To welcome the autumn
None -- none were remaining.
The struggle was ended
For hearts vainly burning --
To hearths of the native
No feet are returning.
Some earth cover'd over,
In dungeons some languish,
Some scattered in exile
Of home dream in anguish.
No help comes from Heaven,
No aid from hands human,
We weep o'er the waste lands
That flowers vainly bloom in.
O dear country Poland!
If 'mid thy despoiling
The children who loved thee
Had taken while toiling
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-06-10 17:14 GMT / http://hdl. handle.