MrSTIC
PILGRIMAGE
IN SIBERIA 179
from the north.
from the north.
Poland - 1915 - Poland, a Study in National Idealism - Monica Gardner
He sees
her, not with the rapture of his earlier vision in
Dawn, leading in triumph a host of warriors, but
as a suppliant, kneeling at the throne of her Son,
pleading for a suffering nation. He sees her above
the stars that turn to her in prayer, above suns
and the Milky Way, and behind her, weeping, are
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? ZTGMUNT KRASINSKI 'rj\
the souls of the Polish dead. Below is the pit,
echoing with the mocking laughter of hell. Its
winds roar in our ears, the foam of its waves
blinds our eyes by which it would drag us down to s,
death. "Oh, vain one, it seeth not what /is being
wrought on high. Oh, vain one, it seeth not that
its rage is nought when such a heart for us is
wrung. " And the poet then pours out his last
prayer for his people:
"Oh, Lord, Lord, then not for hope--as a
flower is it strewn : then not for the destruction of
our foes--their destruction dawns on to-morrow's
clouds: not for the weapons of rule--from the
tempests they will fall to us: not for any help--
Thou hast opened already the field of events
before us: but amidst the terrible convulsion of
these events, we beseech Thee only for a pure will
within ourselves, oh, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
"Oh, Thou most dear, hidden but visible
beyond the veils of the transparent worlds, Thou
present everywhere, immortal, holy! Thou Who
commandedst the being of man that, poor in
strength, and little in his birth, he should to an
angel grow by might of sacrifice; and to our
Polish nation didst ordain that she should lead
the nations into love and peace ! We beseech Thee,
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, we, suspended
between Thy kingdom and the pit, we beseech
Thee with our foreheads sunk to earth, our temples
bathed in the breathing of Thy spring, surrounded
with the wheels of shattered times and perishing
governments, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! we
beseech Thee create in us a pure heart, make
new our thoughts within us, root out from our
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souls tie tares of sacrilegious falsehood, and give
us the gift, ^eternal among Thy gifts--give us
good will! " v
One . only word more remained to Krasinski to
speak to his people, and then his work was done.
In the thick of the terrible events of 1846, when,
weighed down by physical weakness and mental
agony, he could scarcely set pen to paper, he had
struggled fcV&end his nation the message she
needed. '
'. ' ? )h, pray for me to God," he wrote to Delfina
Potocka, as his spirit wrestled against a mind and
body too wearied to obey its bidding. "I feel
nothing egotistic in that desire. For Poland"--
whom even in a private letter he, calls by a feigned
name--" is/ bent beneath all the winds. She
implores, she implores for counsel. "* Dis'satisfiedr*'
with what he wrote; JCrasifiski did- taot publish
the poem in question till 1851, when it came out
und,er the. title ^Resurx^ctup^l It stands forth as his'
supreme ^ctory ov. er^' pessimism <<id d<<apair.
WhaxA he. asks; is this world but"a "cemetery of
ft^s, of blood and mire? This world is eternal
Golgotha to each. The spirit writhes in vain
against its pain. There is no halting place in the--
tempest of this life. Fate mocks us every moment.
Death is close ; and only far away, somewhere on 1
a later wave of ages, resurrection.
"Then must we grow numb, be petrified, be
without heart, become as murderers among the
murderers, among the criminals be criminal our-
selves? Lie, hate, and slay, and mock. We will
* Works ofZysrmunt Krasinski. Jubilee Edition, Cracow, 1912.
Vol. VI. p. 369.
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? ZTGMUNT KRASINSKI 173
give back to the world what it gives us. Let/us
eat and drink, caress the body and abase the mind.
So shall we be counted among the stupid and the /
happy.
"Oh, let it not be so ! My soul, draw back, oh,
stay! Not such a weapon for those who would
shorten evil. . Only one power in the world, the
quiet strength of sacrifice, conquers an oppressive
fate.
"Oh, know thyself for what thou art. Crave
not for the mastery which is His in heaven, nor
choose to be as the brute beast fattening on the
fields of. pasture. On this side the grave, before
. the resurrection dawns, be thou an. unbroken
masterpiece of will, be patience, mistress of mis-
fortune, that slowly buildeth up an edifice from
nought. Be that defeat, of distant aim, but which
at shall conquer for all ages. Be peace amidst
the riving of the storm, and harmony in discord.
Be thou eternal beauty in the eternal war of life.
Be as a sister's tears to those who s6\row, the
veice of manhood to . those whose courage faints,
a home to the exile, hope to those who have losj
their hope. In the struggle with this hell of earth,
be ever, everywhere, the strength that against
death prevails with the stronger strength of love;
be thou the hell of love. *
"In word and in example give thyself freely
to thy brothers. Multiply thy one self by living
"deeds, and from thy one self a thousand shall
come forth. Be thou even in chains by toil
* The critics took exception to the expression "hell of love. "
Krasinski defended it, saying- he had taken it from the writings of
St. Teresa. Letters of Z- Krushiski to Stanislas Kozmian. Lw6w,
1912 (Polish).
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unwearied. Let every pain, though it shall pain,
not pain thee. Be sanctity in bondage.
"What the world called dream and mirage,
y make living, make of them a faith, a law, a cer-
tainty, a truth, till the world, thy murderer,
shall kneel and own that God and country are as
the conscience of the nations. Thy thought shall
be the stream of light, God's judgment flashing
on the heights, above the throng of godless here
below. Nor men nor cannon shall keep it back,
nor falsehoodgsjfor deception, genius, praise, nor
kings, nor paHples. "
Thus tl di^ Anonymous Poet, who began his
career witb/an Undivine Comedy, ended it with
a Resurrecturis. r. He was surrounded all his days
by the tragedy of his nation, tormented within
and without by the intolerable bitterness of a life,
which to him, and to every Pole of his generation,
brought nothing but the spectacle of all that was
sacred and beloved trampled underfoot and
unavenged. Every incitement to despair, revenge,
negation of God and hatred of man, might well
have been his. Yet he pointed without faltering
to one great moral: to the triumph of hope, love,
arid pain over evilj. to salvation through purity
of aims and means. " In spite of all visible events,"
he wrote to his friend Gaszynski at a time when no
ray of light pierced the cloud of tribulation that
hung over Poland, and over his own life, " believe
? In a short (ketch of this nature, I have been obliged to
confine myself entirely to Krasinski's masterpieces, which are at
the same time those that chiefly show the development of his idea.
It is enough to say here' that those writings of his that I have had
to pass over carry out the same thoughts, an<j breathe th^ ? ame
devoted patriotism.
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? ZTGMUNT KRASINSKI 175
me a better dawn is near, a second spring in
our lives, another youth. Poland will give us back,
will give us back what we have lost for her, joy,
enthusiasm, the heart's health. "* In each defeat
he bade his nation see but the promise of her
future victory. He believed against the cruellest
evidence of circumstance. Sferavit contra spent.
* Letters of Zygmunt KrusmsH, Vpl, I, To Constantine
Gaszynski, June I, 1843,
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? CHAPTER V
THE MYSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA
AMONG the greatest of Poland's poets
stands Julius Slowacki. Inferior to his
contemporaries, Mickiewicz and Krasinski,
in depth of thought or moral beauty, he is a
master of style and language. He began his poetical
life as a follower and warm admirer-oi,JB^ron. He
ended it--death took the brilliant, egotistic poet
in the flower of his years--as a? mystic.
"Place on his grave for all inscription: To the
author of Anhelli; and that will be enough to
secure his fame in future generations. " So wrote
Krasinski after Slowacki's death. * And Anhelli,
that strange mystical and poetic journey through
Siberia, stamped with the eternal despair of the
prison-house of the Pole, ranks with the most
striking and most tragic productions of the great
prophetic-national Polish literature.
"When I read it," said Krasinski--and it
should be remembered that one of Krasinski's
lifelong tortures was his terror of Siberia addedjp
his conviction that he would be banished there--
"I yearned, God help me! for Siberia. For many
nights, Siberia appeared to me in my dreams as
a melancholy Eden. "t "The stamp of his
* A. Malecki' Julius Slowacki. Lw6w, 1901 (Polish),
t Letters of Zygmunt Krasinski. Vol. III. J,wsSw, 1887, To
Roman Zaluski, May 13th, 1840 (Polish),
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? MTSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 177
[Slowacki's] poetry," he goes on to say, "is
that marvellous mingling of horror and of
charm. "
The impression made by Anhelli on the reader's
mind is that of a desolation as unending as those
dreary snow-bound wastes that Slowacki unrolls
to our gaze; a despair which the pale light of the
vague mysticism that gleams through the work
seems but to enhance. The white deserts, their
sameness only broken by the figures of the doomed
Polish exiles; the fires of the Northern lights;
the strange brilliance of the Siberian winter stars,
are a fit setting for Anhelli, the youth who passes
through the prisons and the mines, as the type of
his people's sufferings, till his heart breaks with his
anguish.
It is not our intention to describe Slowacki's
Anhelli, but to let this exquisite prose-poem speak
for itself in extracts which can, unfortunately,
convey but a meagre impression of the beauty of
the Polish original. But we would first note one
or two of its characteristics. Inspired in part by
Slowacki's wanderings in the Holy Land, it is
written in a species of Biblical prose. It is in no
wise intended as STclosely "exact presentment of
Siberia. More than one of the episodes introduced
into it belong, not to Siberia, but to Poland.
Various of the Poles whom Anhelli meets in
Siberia never in reality went there. But Slowacki
chose to place the poem consecrated to the sorrows
of his nation, and into which he poured his own
sadness and weariness of life, in Siberia, that land
watered by the tears of thousands of Poles, which,
at the time that the poet was writing, stood before
N
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Polish minds as the large factor with which they
were compelled to reckon. *
Although, from time to time, Anhelli touches
. upon the Messianistic theory of Poland's salvation
and exaltation, yet its general tone is that of a
I profound melancholy that borders on despair, of
'something, indeed, not far removed from pessi-
mism that, as we have seen, is unusual in ti^e Polish -
poetry of Slowacki's generation. We have called
Anhelli a mystical poem; but its mysticism is- of j
a peculiarly indeterminate and unsatisfying--de- .
scription. In fact, with a few exceptions here and
there, "the supernatural element in Anhelli strikes
the reader as being more of a fairy-like than,
strictly speaking, a spiritual nature. This feature
weakens the work as a great national expression;
but from the artistic standpoint it creates that
weird and unearthly atmosphere that for long''
haunts our vision, as though we had wandered
to some far distant and unutterably mournful
dream-land.
"The exiles came into the land of Siberia," (so
Anhelli begins). "And, clearing a wide place, they
built them a wooden house, that they might dwell
together in harmony and brotherly love. For
some time there was great order among them and
great sadness, because they could not forget that
they were exiles, and would see their country no
more, unless it pleased God. "
Here Slowacki has the Polish Emigration in
mind. f He describes how dissensions break out ,
in their midst. Then:
"They saw a great flock of blacky birds flying
* A. Malecki, op. cit. t A. Malecki, op cit.
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MrSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 179
from the north. And beyond the birds there
appeared, as it were, a caravan, and a tribe of
people, and sledges drawn by dogs, and a herd of
reindeer with branching horns, and men on skates
carrying spears. And at their head went the king
of the tribe, who was also their priest, clad in
furs and in corals.
"Then that king, as he drew nigh to the crowd
of eMles, said to them in the language of their
own country: 'Welcome! Lo, I knew your
fathers, unhappy like you; and I beheld how
they lived in the fear of God and died, saying,
Oh, my country! my country ! '"
This king, the Shaman, the Siberian wizard-
priest, stays with the exiles to comfort them. He
is the Virgil of the poem, who leads Anhelli through
the journey where he is confronted, not so much
with individuals, as in the Divina Commedia, but
with the symbolizations of the national suffer-
ings. *
"Then the Shaman, gazing into the hearts of
that band of exiles, said within himself: 'Verily,
I have not found here what I sought. Their hearts
are weak, and they will be vanquished by sadness.
They would have been worthy men in the midst of
happiness, but misery will change them into evil
and dangerous men. Oh, God, what hast Thou
done? Dost Thou not grant to every flower to
bloom where it finds its own life and its own soil?
Why, then, must these men perish? I will, there-
fore, take one from among them, and I will love
him as a son, and when I die I will lay upon him
my burden, and a greater burden than others can
* A. Malecki, op. cit.
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bear, that in him there shall be redemption. And
I will show him all the sorrows of this earth, and
then I will leave him alone in a great darkness,
with the load of thought and of yearning in
his heart. '
"When he had said this, he called to him a
youth of the name of Anhelli and, laying his
hands upon him, he poured into him heartfelt
love and pity for men. And, turning to the crowd
of exiles, he said: 'I will depart with this youth
to show him many sorrowful things, and you shall
remain alone to learn how to bear hunger, misery
and sadness. But keep hope. For hope shall go
forth from you to the future generations and will
give them life: but, if it dieth within you, then
the future generations will be as dead men. Keep
watch upon yourselves, for you are as men stand-
ing upon a height, and they who are to come will
behold you. But I say unto you, be at rest, not
about the morrow, but about the day which will
be the morrow of your death. For the morrow of
life is more bitter than the morrow of death. '"
"You are as men standing on the height," said
Slowacki. Here we have the Messianistic theory
of the Pole's vocation. The poet's insistence on
hope is also characteristic of the mystic national
literature and of the whole temper of his nation.
Hope preserved the life of Poland.
The hour has struck for Anhelli to set forth on
his pilgrimage through the house of bondage of
his people. The Shaman summons him from
slumber, bidding him " ' Sleep not, but come with
me, for there are things of import in the desert. '
"Then Anhelli, clothing himself with a white
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? MTSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 181
robe, followed the old man, and they walked in
the light of the stars. . . .
"And the Shaman passed with Anhelli through
the desert ways of Siberia where were the prisons.
And they saw faces of prisoners, pallid and sorrow-
ful, looking through the gratings to the sky. And
near one of the prisons they met men carrying
biers, and the Shaman stayed them, bidding
them open the coffins. When, then, they had
taken the lids off the coffins, Anhelli shuddered,
beholding that the dead were still in their fetters,
and he said: 'Shaman, I fear lest these mar-
tyred men shall not rise from the dead. Awaken
one of them, for thou hast the power of working
miracles. Wake that old man with the hoary beard
and white hair, for it seems to me that I knew
him when he was alive. ' And the Shaman, with a
stern look, said: 'Wherefore? I will raise him
from the dead, and thou wilt slay him again.
Verily, twice will I raise him up, and twice he
will die at thy hands. But let it be as thou wilt,
that thou mayest know that death shelters us
from sorrows which were waiting for us on the
road, but which found us dead. '
"Speaking thus, the Shaman looked upon the
old man in his coffin, and said: 'Arise ! ' And the
body in chains rose and sat up, gazing at the
people like a man that sleeps. "
But as Anhelli repeats to this man--Niemojow-
ski, a well-known figure in the Polish history of
Slowacki's time, and one whom the poet knew
personally--some of the tales that were told
against him, "he who had risen from the dead
died again, wailing. "
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"Then the Shaman said: 'Anhelli, thou hast
slain him by repeating men's slanders and calum-
nies, of which he knew not before his death. But
I will raise him up a second time, and do thou
beware lest thou bring him a second time to his
death. '
"He awoke the dead man, and he rose in his
coffin, with tears streaming from his open eyelids. "
Mindful of the wizard's warning, Anhelli begs
the dead man's forgiveness, and speaks words of
raise both of him and of his equally famous
rother. " 1 Oh, unhappy ye,'" he ends. "' Lo, one
seeketh rest in a Siberian graveyard, and the other
lies under the roses and cypresses on the Seine--
separated and dead. '
"When he had heard these words, the man who
had risen from the dead cried out: 'Oh, my
brother ! ' and he fell back in the coffin, and died.
And the Shaman said to Anhelli: 'Why didst
thou tell him of his brother's death? One
moment, and he would have known it from God,
and he would have met his beloved brother in the
heavenly land. Let them close the coffins and
carry them to the cemetery. And ask me no more
to raise from the dead those who are asleep and
at rest. '
"And so the Shaman with Anhelli made their
journey through the sorrowful land, and through
the desert ways and beneath the murmuring
forests of Siberia, meeting the suffering people
and comforting them.
"And one evening they passed near still-stand-
ing water, where grew many weeping willows and
a few pines. "
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? Mr STIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 183
And as the Shaman watched the little fish
"leaping to the afterglow," he conjures Anhelli
to bear in mind that melancholy "' is a mortal
disease. '
"' For there are two melancholies. One is
from strength, the other from weakness. The first
is as wings to men of high mind, the second a
stone to drowning men. I tell thee this because
thou art yielding to sadness, and thou wilt lose
hope. '
"While he still spoke, they came upon a throng
of Siberians who were catching fish in the lake.
And when the fishers had seen the Shaman, they
ran to him, saying: 'Oh, our king! Thou hast
forsaken us for strangers, and we are sad because
we see thee among us no more. Stay with us this
night, and we will make thee a banquet. '
"But after the supper, when the moon rose
and threw her light over the smooth water,"
the Shaman, to revive the faith of these children
of the desert, works a miracle for them. He casts
Anhelli into a trance:
"Calling a little child from the crowd, he placed
him on the breast of Anhelli, who had laid him
down as though to sleep, and he said to the child:
'Lay thy hands on the forehead of this youth,
and call him three times by the name of Anhelli. '
And it befell that at the call of the child the soul
went forth from Anhelli, and it was of a fair form
and many hued colours, and had white wings on
its shoulders. And beholding itself freed the
spirit went on the water, and it fled across the
column of the moon's light towards the south.
"But when it was afar off and in the middle
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of the lake, the Shaman bade the child call upon
the soul to return. And the bright spirit looked
back at the cry of the child, and it returned slowly
over the golden wave, dragging after it the ends
of its wings which were drooping for sorrow. And
when the Shaman bade it descend into the body
of the man, it wailed like a shattered harp and
trembled, but it obeyed. And Anhelli, awaking,
sat up and asked what had been wrought with
him. The fishermen answered: 'Lord, we have
seen thy soul. The Chinese kings are not clothed
in such splendour as the soul that belongs to thy
body. And we have seen nothing brighter on the
earth save the sun, and nought glittering more
brightly save the stars. The swans flying over
our land in May have not such wings. Yea, and
we even smelt scent like the scent of a thousand
flowers. '
"'What, then,' (asks Anhelli of the Shaman),
'did my soul when she was free ? ' The Shaman
answered him: 'She went over that golden road
that is cast on the water from the moon, and she
fled to yonder side like one that is in haste. ' And
at these words Anhelli drooped his head, and,
musing, he began to weep, and he said: 'She was
fain to return to my country. '"
Having comforted Anhelli, the Shaman leads
him on, he himself working fresh miracles, till,
says he:
"' Lo, we will show miracles no more nor the
power of God that is in us: but we will weep, for
we have come to the people who do not see the
sun. We may not teach them wisdom, for sorrow
has taught them more. Nor will we give them
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? MYSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 185
hope, for they will not believe us. In the decree
that condemned them was inscribed: For ever!
Here are the mines of Siberia. '
"' Step carefully here, for the earth is paved
with sleeping men. Dost thou hear? They
breathe heavily, and many moan and talk in their
sleep. One speaks of his mother, another of his
sisters and brothers, and a third of his home and
of her whom he loved in his heart, and of the
meadows where the corn bowed to him as to its
lord. And they are happy now in their sleep--but
they will wake. In other mines criminals wail;
but this is only the grave of the sons of the nation,
and is filled with silence. The chain that rattles
here has a sorrowful sound, and in the vault there
are many echoes, and one echo which says: I
mourn for you. '
"While the Shaman was speaking thus piti-
fully, there came wardens and soldiers with lanterns
to awaken the sleepers to labour. Then all rose
up from the ground, and woke, and they went like
sheep with bent heads, except one who rose not,
for he had died in his sleep "--
having swallowed poisonous lead that he had
picked up from the floor of the mine in the hope
of ending his misery.
I The pilgrims wend their way through the depths
of the mines:
\ " Till they saw many men, pallid and tortured,
'whose names are known in our country. And they
came to a subterranean lake, and trod the banks
I of its dark water which stirred not, and here
and there was yellow from the light of
the lanterns. And the Shaman said: 'Is this the
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? POLAND
Sea of Galilee ? * And are these the fishers of
woe? '
"Then, one of those who sat sadly by the banks
of the black water said: 'To-day they allow us
to rest, because it is the Tsar's name-day. So we
sit here over the dark water to dream and think
and rest; for our hearts are more weary than our
bodies. And, not long since, we lost our prophet,t
whose favourite place was this rock, and to whom
these waters were dear. And seven years ago on
a certain night the spirit of prophecy took posses-
sion of him, and he felt the great convulsion that
there was in our country,! and he told us the
whole night what he saw, laughing and weeping.
And only at dawn did he wax sad, and he cried: f
Lo, they have risen from the dead, but they
cannot roll away the stone from the sepulchre:
and having said this, he fell dead. '
"And the Shaman, turning him to Anhelli,
said: 'Why art thou thus lost in thought above
this black water, which is of human tears? '
"When he had spoken, there resounded a
great echo from an explosion in the mine, and it
was prolonged above their heads, beating like a
subterranean bell. And the Shaman said: 'Be-
hold the angel of the Lord for those who see the
* Slowacki wrote Anhelli under the influence of his journey in
Palestine, dedicating the poem to the Pole who had been his
fellow-traveller there. The Sea of Galilee was one of the spots that
he had visited, and certain of his descriptive passages, such as the
lake where Anhelli's soul is shown to the fishermen, are said to be
the poet's impressions of the scenery of the Holy Land.
f Slowacki said that this prophet was an imaginary figure, but
that at the same time he had Thomas Zan in his mind. When the
poet wrote Anhelli, Zan was still in exile, but he returned in later
years to end his days in his own country.
X Tl:e Rising of 1830, which took place eight years before
Anhelli was published.
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? MTSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 187
sun no more. Oh, God, oh, God, we pray Thee
that our sufferings may be our redemption. And
we will not entreat Thee to restore the sun to
our eyes and the air to our lungs, for we know
that Thy judgment has fallen upon us--but the
newborn generation is guiltless. Have mercy, oh,
God! And forgive us that we carry our cross
with sadness and that we rejoice not as martyrs;
because Thou hast not said if our suffering will
be reckoned to us as our expiation. But speak the
word, and we shall rejoice. For what is life that
we should mourn for it? Is it the good angel that
leaves us in the hour of death? Happy are they
who may sacrifice themselves for the nation ! '"
The Shaman and Anhelli pass on where all is
sorrow. Here, they see an old man knouted to
death, there, a Russian prince toiling as a felon,
with his devoted wife ministering to him. At
last, like a second Virgil with his Dante, the guide
carries Anhelli up from the pit; and Anhelli
opens his eyes once more on the Siberian stars
and snow, asking himself if what he had beheld
was but a dreadful dream.
The scope of the poem now somewhat changes.
The national sufferings recede further into the
background, and the grief of Anhelli himself fills
the poem; a grief which, however, never ceases
to be that of the Pole, eternally mourning for his
nation. It is curious to notice that, as the poet
departs from those great tragedies with which
the heart of the Pole was filled when Slowacki
wrote, and lingers instead on a more individual
and restricted note, the artistic beauty of the
work seems to increase rather than to be impaired.
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her, not with the rapture of his earlier vision in
Dawn, leading in triumph a host of warriors, but
as a suppliant, kneeling at the throne of her Son,
pleading for a suffering nation. He sees her above
the stars that turn to her in prayer, above suns
and the Milky Way, and behind her, weeping, are
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? ZTGMUNT KRASINSKI 'rj\
the souls of the Polish dead. Below is the pit,
echoing with the mocking laughter of hell. Its
winds roar in our ears, the foam of its waves
blinds our eyes by which it would drag us down to s,
death. "Oh, vain one, it seeth not what /is being
wrought on high. Oh, vain one, it seeth not that
its rage is nought when such a heart for us is
wrung. " And the poet then pours out his last
prayer for his people:
"Oh, Lord, Lord, then not for hope--as a
flower is it strewn : then not for the destruction of
our foes--their destruction dawns on to-morrow's
clouds: not for the weapons of rule--from the
tempests they will fall to us: not for any help--
Thou hast opened already the field of events
before us: but amidst the terrible convulsion of
these events, we beseech Thee only for a pure will
within ourselves, oh, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
"Oh, Thou most dear, hidden but visible
beyond the veils of the transparent worlds, Thou
present everywhere, immortal, holy! Thou Who
commandedst the being of man that, poor in
strength, and little in his birth, he should to an
angel grow by might of sacrifice; and to our
Polish nation didst ordain that she should lead
the nations into love and peace ! We beseech Thee,
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, we, suspended
between Thy kingdom and the pit, we beseech
Thee with our foreheads sunk to earth, our temples
bathed in the breathing of Thy spring, surrounded
with the wheels of shattered times and perishing
governments, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! we
beseech Thee create in us a pure heart, make
new our thoughts within us, root out from our
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? 172
POLAND
souls tie tares of sacrilegious falsehood, and give
us the gift, ^eternal among Thy gifts--give us
good will! " v
One . only word more remained to Krasinski to
speak to his people, and then his work was done.
In the thick of the terrible events of 1846, when,
weighed down by physical weakness and mental
agony, he could scarcely set pen to paper, he had
struggled fcV&end his nation the message she
needed. '
'. ' ? )h, pray for me to God," he wrote to Delfina
Potocka, as his spirit wrestled against a mind and
body too wearied to obey its bidding. "I feel
nothing egotistic in that desire. For Poland"--
whom even in a private letter he, calls by a feigned
name--" is/ bent beneath all the winds. She
implores, she implores for counsel. "* Dis'satisfiedr*'
with what he wrote; JCrasifiski did- taot publish
the poem in question till 1851, when it came out
und,er the. title ^Resurx^ctup^l It stands forth as his'
supreme ^ctory ov. er^' pessimism <<id d<<apair.
WhaxA he. asks; is this world but"a "cemetery of
ft^s, of blood and mire? This world is eternal
Golgotha to each. The spirit writhes in vain
against its pain. There is no halting place in the--
tempest of this life. Fate mocks us every moment.
Death is close ; and only far away, somewhere on 1
a later wave of ages, resurrection.
"Then must we grow numb, be petrified, be
without heart, become as murderers among the
murderers, among the criminals be criminal our-
selves? Lie, hate, and slay, and mock. We will
* Works ofZysrmunt Krasinski. Jubilee Edition, Cracow, 1912.
Vol. VI. p. 369.
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? ZTGMUNT KRASINSKI 173
give back to the world what it gives us. Let/us
eat and drink, caress the body and abase the mind.
So shall we be counted among the stupid and the /
happy.
"Oh, let it not be so ! My soul, draw back, oh,
stay! Not such a weapon for those who would
shorten evil. . Only one power in the world, the
quiet strength of sacrifice, conquers an oppressive
fate.
"Oh, know thyself for what thou art. Crave
not for the mastery which is His in heaven, nor
choose to be as the brute beast fattening on the
fields of. pasture. On this side the grave, before
. the resurrection dawns, be thou an. unbroken
masterpiece of will, be patience, mistress of mis-
fortune, that slowly buildeth up an edifice from
nought. Be that defeat, of distant aim, but which
at shall conquer for all ages. Be peace amidst
the riving of the storm, and harmony in discord.
Be thou eternal beauty in the eternal war of life.
Be as a sister's tears to those who s6\row, the
veice of manhood to . those whose courage faints,
a home to the exile, hope to those who have losj
their hope. In the struggle with this hell of earth,
be ever, everywhere, the strength that against
death prevails with the stronger strength of love;
be thou the hell of love. *
"In word and in example give thyself freely
to thy brothers. Multiply thy one self by living
"deeds, and from thy one self a thousand shall
come forth. Be thou even in chains by toil
* The critics took exception to the expression "hell of love. "
Krasinski defended it, saying- he had taken it from the writings of
St. Teresa. Letters of Z- Krushiski to Stanislas Kozmian. Lw6w,
1912 (Polish).
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unwearied. Let every pain, though it shall pain,
not pain thee. Be sanctity in bondage.
"What the world called dream and mirage,
y make living, make of them a faith, a law, a cer-
tainty, a truth, till the world, thy murderer,
shall kneel and own that God and country are as
the conscience of the nations. Thy thought shall
be the stream of light, God's judgment flashing
on the heights, above the throng of godless here
below. Nor men nor cannon shall keep it back,
nor falsehoodgsjfor deception, genius, praise, nor
kings, nor paHples. "
Thus tl di^ Anonymous Poet, who began his
career witb/an Undivine Comedy, ended it with
a Resurrecturis. r. He was surrounded all his days
by the tragedy of his nation, tormented within
and without by the intolerable bitterness of a life,
which to him, and to every Pole of his generation,
brought nothing but the spectacle of all that was
sacred and beloved trampled underfoot and
unavenged. Every incitement to despair, revenge,
negation of God and hatred of man, might well
have been his. Yet he pointed without faltering
to one great moral: to the triumph of hope, love,
arid pain over evilj. to salvation through purity
of aims and means. " In spite of all visible events,"
he wrote to his friend Gaszynski at a time when no
ray of light pierced the cloud of tribulation that
hung over Poland, and over his own life, " believe
? In a short (ketch of this nature, I have been obliged to
confine myself entirely to Krasinski's masterpieces, which are at
the same time those that chiefly show the development of his idea.
It is enough to say here' that those writings of his that I have had
to pass over carry out the same thoughts, an<j breathe th^ ? ame
devoted patriotism.
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? ZTGMUNT KRASINSKI 175
me a better dawn is near, a second spring in
our lives, another youth. Poland will give us back,
will give us back what we have lost for her, joy,
enthusiasm, the heart's health. "* In each defeat
he bade his nation see but the promise of her
future victory. He believed against the cruellest
evidence of circumstance. Sferavit contra spent.
* Letters of Zygmunt KrusmsH, Vpl, I, To Constantine
Gaszynski, June I, 1843,
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? CHAPTER V
THE MYSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA
AMONG the greatest of Poland's poets
stands Julius Slowacki. Inferior to his
contemporaries, Mickiewicz and Krasinski,
in depth of thought or moral beauty, he is a
master of style and language. He began his poetical
life as a follower and warm admirer-oi,JB^ron. He
ended it--death took the brilliant, egotistic poet
in the flower of his years--as a? mystic.
"Place on his grave for all inscription: To the
author of Anhelli; and that will be enough to
secure his fame in future generations. " So wrote
Krasinski after Slowacki's death. * And Anhelli,
that strange mystical and poetic journey through
Siberia, stamped with the eternal despair of the
prison-house of the Pole, ranks with the most
striking and most tragic productions of the great
prophetic-national Polish literature.
"When I read it," said Krasinski--and it
should be remembered that one of Krasinski's
lifelong tortures was his terror of Siberia addedjp
his conviction that he would be banished there--
"I yearned, God help me! for Siberia. For many
nights, Siberia appeared to me in my dreams as
a melancholy Eden. "t "The stamp of his
* A. Malecki' Julius Slowacki. Lw6w, 1901 (Polish),
t Letters of Zygmunt Krasinski. Vol. III. J,wsSw, 1887, To
Roman Zaluski, May 13th, 1840 (Polish),
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? MTSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 177
[Slowacki's] poetry," he goes on to say, "is
that marvellous mingling of horror and of
charm. "
The impression made by Anhelli on the reader's
mind is that of a desolation as unending as those
dreary snow-bound wastes that Slowacki unrolls
to our gaze; a despair which the pale light of the
vague mysticism that gleams through the work
seems but to enhance. The white deserts, their
sameness only broken by the figures of the doomed
Polish exiles; the fires of the Northern lights;
the strange brilliance of the Siberian winter stars,
are a fit setting for Anhelli, the youth who passes
through the prisons and the mines, as the type of
his people's sufferings, till his heart breaks with his
anguish.
It is not our intention to describe Slowacki's
Anhelli, but to let this exquisite prose-poem speak
for itself in extracts which can, unfortunately,
convey but a meagre impression of the beauty of
the Polish original. But we would first note one
or two of its characteristics. Inspired in part by
Slowacki's wanderings in the Holy Land, it is
written in a species of Biblical prose. It is in no
wise intended as STclosely "exact presentment of
Siberia. More than one of the episodes introduced
into it belong, not to Siberia, but to Poland.
Various of the Poles whom Anhelli meets in
Siberia never in reality went there. But Slowacki
chose to place the poem consecrated to the sorrows
of his nation, and into which he poured his own
sadness and weariness of life, in Siberia, that land
watered by the tears of thousands of Poles, which,
at the time that the poet was writing, stood before
N
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POLAND
Polish minds as the large factor with which they
were compelled to reckon. *
Although, from time to time, Anhelli touches
. upon the Messianistic theory of Poland's salvation
and exaltation, yet its general tone is that of a
I profound melancholy that borders on despair, of
'something, indeed, not far removed from pessi-
mism that, as we have seen, is unusual in ti^e Polish -
poetry of Slowacki's generation. We have called
Anhelli a mystical poem; but its mysticism is- of j
a peculiarly indeterminate and unsatisfying--de- .
scription. In fact, with a few exceptions here and
there, "the supernatural element in Anhelli strikes
the reader as being more of a fairy-like than,
strictly speaking, a spiritual nature. This feature
weakens the work as a great national expression;
but from the artistic standpoint it creates that
weird and unearthly atmosphere that for long''
haunts our vision, as though we had wandered
to some far distant and unutterably mournful
dream-land.
"The exiles came into the land of Siberia," (so
Anhelli begins). "And, clearing a wide place, they
built them a wooden house, that they might dwell
together in harmony and brotherly love. For
some time there was great order among them and
great sadness, because they could not forget that
they were exiles, and would see their country no
more, unless it pleased God. "
Here Slowacki has the Polish Emigration in
mind. f He describes how dissensions break out ,
in their midst. Then:
"They saw a great flock of blacky birds flying
* A. Malecki, op. cit. t A. Malecki, op cit.
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?
MrSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 179
from the north. And beyond the birds there
appeared, as it were, a caravan, and a tribe of
people, and sledges drawn by dogs, and a herd of
reindeer with branching horns, and men on skates
carrying spears. And at their head went the king
of the tribe, who was also their priest, clad in
furs and in corals.
"Then that king, as he drew nigh to the crowd
of eMles, said to them in the language of their
own country: 'Welcome! Lo, I knew your
fathers, unhappy like you; and I beheld how
they lived in the fear of God and died, saying,
Oh, my country! my country ! '"
This king, the Shaman, the Siberian wizard-
priest, stays with the exiles to comfort them. He
is the Virgil of the poem, who leads Anhelli through
the journey where he is confronted, not so much
with individuals, as in the Divina Commedia, but
with the symbolizations of the national suffer-
ings. *
"Then the Shaman, gazing into the hearts of
that band of exiles, said within himself: 'Verily,
I have not found here what I sought. Their hearts
are weak, and they will be vanquished by sadness.
They would have been worthy men in the midst of
happiness, but misery will change them into evil
and dangerous men. Oh, God, what hast Thou
done? Dost Thou not grant to every flower to
bloom where it finds its own life and its own soil?
Why, then, must these men perish? I will, there-
fore, take one from among them, and I will love
him as a son, and when I die I will lay upon him
my burden, and a greater burden than others can
* A. Malecki, op. cit.
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? i8o
POLAND
bear, that in him there shall be redemption. And
I will show him all the sorrows of this earth, and
then I will leave him alone in a great darkness,
with the load of thought and of yearning in
his heart. '
"When he had said this, he called to him a
youth of the name of Anhelli and, laying his
hands upon him, he poured into him heartfelt
love and pity for men. And, turning to the crowd
of exiles, he said: 'I will depart with this youth
to show him many sorrowful things, and you shall
remain alone to learn how to bear hunger, misery
and sadness. But keep hope. For hope shall go
forth from you to the future generations and will
give them life: but, if it dieth within you, then
the future generations will be as dead men. Keep
watch upon yourselves, for you are as men stand-
ing upon a height, and they who are to come will
behold you. But I say unto you, be at rest, not
about the morrow, but about the day which will
be the morrow of your death. For the morrow of
life is more bitter than the morrow of death. '"
"You are as men standing on the height," said
Slowacki. Here we have the Messianistic theory
of the Pole's vocation. The poet's insistence on
hope is also characteristic of the mystic national
literature and of the whole temper of his nation.
Hope preserved the life of Poland.
The hour has struck for Anhelli to set forth on
his pilgrimage through the house of bondage of
his people. The Shaman summons him from
slumber, bidding him " ' Sleep not, but come with
me, for there are things of import in the desert. '
"Then Anhelli, clothing himself with a white
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? MTSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 181
robe, followed the old man, and they walked in
the light of the stars. . . .
"And the Shaman passed with Anhelli through
the desert ways of Siberia where were the prisons.
And they saw faces of prisoners, pallid and sorrow-
ful, looking through the gratings to the sky. And
near one of the prisons they met men carrying
biers, and the Shaman stayed them, bidding
them open the coffins. When, then, they had
taken the lids off the coffins, Anhelli shuddered,
beholding that the dead were still in their fetters,
and he said: 'Shaman, I fear lest these mar-
tyred men shall not rise from the dead. Awaken
one of them, for thou hast the power of working
miracles. Wake that old man with the hoary beard
and white hair, for it seems to me that I knew
him when he was alive. ' And the Shaman, with a
stern look, said: 'Wherefore? I will raise him
from the dead, and thou wilt slay him again.
Verily, twice will I raise him up, and twice he
will die at thy hands. But let it be as thou wilt,
that thou mayest know that death shelters us
from sorrows which were waiting for us on the
road, but which found us dead. '
"Speaking thus, the Shaman looked upon the
old man in his coffin, and said: 'Arise ! ' And the
body in chains rose and sat up, gazing at the
people like a man that sleeps. "
But as Anhelli repeats to this man--Niemojow-
ski, a well-known figure in the Polish history of
Slowacki's time, and one whom the poet knew
personally--some of the tales that were told
against him, "he who had risen from the dead
died again, wailing. "
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"Then the Shaman said: 'Anhelli, thou hast
slain him by repeating men's slanders and calum-
nies, of which he knew not before his death. But
I will raise him up a second time, and do thou
beware lest thou bring him a second time to his
death. '
"He awoke the dead man, and he rose in his
coffin, with tears streaming from his open eyelids. "
Mindful of the wizard's warning, Anhelli begs
the dead man's forgiveness, and speaks words of
raise both of him and of his equally famous
rother. " 1 Oh, unhappy ye,'" he ends. "' Lo, one
seeketh rest in a Siberian graveyard, and the other
lies under the roses and cypresses on the Seine--
separated and dead. '
"When he had heard these words, the man who
had risen from the dead cried out: 'Oh, my
brother ! ' and he fell back in the coffin, and died.
And the Shaman said to Anhelli: 'Why didst
thou tell him of his brother's death? One
moment, and he would have known it from God,
and he would have met his beloved brother in the
heavenly land. Let them close the coffins and
carry them to the cemetery. And ask me no more
to raise from the dead those who are asleep and
at rest. '
"And so the Shaman with Anhelli made their
journey through the sorrowful land, and through
the desert ways and beneath the murmuring
forests of Siberia, meeting the suffering people
and comforting them.
"And one evening they passed near still-stand-
ing water, where grew many weeping willows and
a few pines. "
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? Mr STIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 183
And as the Shaman watched the little fish
"leaping to the afterglow," he conjures Anhelli
to bear in mind that melancholy "' is a mortal
disease. '
"' For there are two melancholies. One is
from strength, the other from weakness. The first
is as wings to men of high mind, the second a
stone to drowning men. I tell thee this because
thou art yielding to sadness, and thou wilt lose
hope. '
"While he still spoke, they came upon a throng
of Siberians who were catching fish in the lake.
And when the fishers had seen the Shaman, they
ran to him, saying: 'Oh, our king! Thou hast
forsaken us for strangers, and we are sad because
we see thee among us no more. Stay with us this
night, and we will make thee a banquet. '
"But after the supper, when the moon rose
and threw her light over the smooth water,"
the Shaman, to revive the faith of these children
of the desert, works a miracle for them. He casts
Anhelli into a trance:
"Calling a little child from the crowd, he placed
him on the breast of Anhelli, who had laid him
down as though to sleep, and he said to the child:
'Lay thy hands on the forehead of this youth,
and call him three times by the name of Anhelli. '
And it befell that at the call of the child the soul
went forth from Anhelli, and it was of a fair form
and many hued colours, and had white wings on
its shoulders. And beholding itself freed the
spirit went on the water, and it fled across the
column of the moon's light towards the south.
"But when it was afar off and in the middle
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POLAND
of the lake, the Shaman bade the child call upon
the soul to return. And the bright spirit looked
back at the cry of the child, and it returned slowly
over the golden wave, dragging after it the ends
of its wings which were drooping for sorrow. And
when the Shaman bade it descend into the body
of the man, it wailed like a shattered harp and
trembled, but it obeyed. And Anhelli, awaking,
sat up and asked what had been wrought with
him. The fishermen answered: 'Lord, we have
seen thy soul. The Chinese kings are not clothed
in such splendour as the soul that belongs to thy
body. And we have seen nothing brighter on the
earth save the sun, and nought glittering more
brightly save the stars. The swans flying over
our land in May have not such wings. Yea, and
we even smelt scent like the scent of a thousand
flowers. '
"'What, then,' (asks Anhelli of the Shaman),
'did my soul when she was free ? ' The Shaman
answered him: 'She went over that golden road
that is cast on the water from the moon, and she
fled to yonder side like one that is in haste. ' And
at these words Anhelli drooped his head, and,
musing, he began to weep, and he said: 'She was
fain to return to my country. '"
Having comforted Anhelli, the Shaman leads
him on, he himself working fresh miracles, till,
says he:
"' Lo, we will show miracles no more nor the
power of God that is in us: but we will weep, for
we have come to the people who do not see the
sun. We may not teach them wisdom, for sorrow
has taught them more. Nor will we give them
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? MYSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 185
hope, for they will not believe us. In the decree
that condemned them was inscribed: For ever!
Here are the mines of Siberia. '
"' Step carefully here, for the earth is paved
with sleeping men. Dost thou hear? They
breathe heavily, and many moan and talk in their
sleep. One speaks of his mother, another of his
sisters and brothers, and a third of his home and
of her whom he loved in his heart, and of the
meadows where the corn bowed to him as to its
lord. And they are happy now in their sleep--but
they will wake. In other mines criminals wail;
but this is only the grave of the sons of the nation,
and is filled with silence. The chain that rattles
here has a sorrowful sound, and in the vault there
are many echoes, and one echo which says: I
mourn for you. '
"While the Shaman was speaking thus piti-
fully, there came wardens and soldiers with lanterns
to awaken the sleepers to labour. Then all rose
up from the ground, and woke, and they went like
sheep with bent heads, except one who rose not,
for he had died in his sleep "--
having swallowed poisonous lead that he had
picked up from the floor of the mine in the hope
of ending his misery.
I The pilgrims wend their way through the depths
of the mines:
\ " Till they saw many men, pallid and tortured,
'whose names are known in our country. And they
came to a subterranean lake, and trod the banks
I of its dark water which stirred not, and here
and there was yellow from the light of
the lanterns. And the Shaman said: 'Is this the
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? POLAND
Sea of Galilee ? * And are these the fishers of
woe? '
"Then, one of those who sat sadly by the banks
of the black water said: 'To-day they allow us
to rest, because it is the Tsar's name-day. So we
sit here over the dark water to dream and think
and rest; for our hearts are more weary than our
bodies. And, not long since, we lost our prophet,t
whose favourite place was this rock, and to whom
these waters were dear. And seven years ago on
a certain night the spirit of prophecy took posses-
sion of him, and he felt the great convulsion that
there was in our country,! and he told us the
whole night what he saw, laughing and weeping.
And only at dawn did he wax sad, and he cried: f
Lo, they have risen from the dead, but they
cannot roll away the stone from the sepulchre:
and having said this, he fell dead. '
"And the Shaman, turning him to Anhelli,
said: 'Why art thou thus lost in thought above
this black water, which is of human tears? '
"When he had spoken, there resounded a
great echo from an explosion in the mine, and it
was prolonged above their heads, beating like a
subterranean bell. And the Shaman said: 'Be-
hold the angel of the Lord for those who see the
* Slowacki wrote Anhelli under the influence of his journey in
Palestine, dedicating the poem to the Pole who had been his
fellow-traveller there. The Sea of Galilee was one of the spots that
he had visited, and certain of his descriptive passages, such as the
lake where Anhelli's soul is shown to the fishermen, are said to be
the poet's impressions of the scenery of the Holy Land.
f Slowacki said that this prophet was an imaginary figure, but
that at the same time he had Thomas Zan in his mind. When the
poet wrote Anhelli, Zan was still in exile, but he returned in later
years to end his days in his own country.
X Tl:e Rising of 1830, which took place eight years before
Anhelli was published.
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? MTSTIC PILGRIMAGE IN SIBERIA 187
sun no more. Oh, God, oh, God, we pray Thee
that our sufferings may be our redemption. And
we will not entreat Thee to restore the sun to
our eyes and the air to our lungs, for we know
that Thy judgment has fallen upon us--but the
newborn generation is guiltless. Have mercy, oh,
God! And forgive us that we carry our cross
with sadness and that we rejoice not as martyrs;
because Thou hast not said if our suffering will
be reckoned to us as our expiation. But speak the
word, and we shall rejoice. For what is life that
we should mourn for it? Is it the good angel that
leaves us in the hour of death? Happy are they
who may sacrifice themselves for the nation ! '"
The Shaman and Anhelli pass on where all is
sorrow. Here, they see an old man knouted to
death, there, a Russian prince toiling as a felon,
with his devoted wife ministering to him. At
last, like a second Virgil with his Dante, the guide
carries Anhelli up from the pit; and Anhelli
opens his eyes once more on the Siberian stars
and snow, asking himself if what he had beheld
was but a dreadful dream.
The scope of the poem now somewhat changes.
The national sufferings recede further into the
background, and the grief of Anhelli himself fills
the poem; a grief which, however, never ceases
to be that of the Pole, eternally mourning for his
nation. It is curious to notice that, as the poet
departs from those great tragedies with which
the heart of the Pole was filled when Slowacki
wrote, and lingers instead on a more individual
and restricted note, the artistic beauty of the
work seems to increase rather than to be impaired.
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