No More Learning

One tells in all Krasinski's fervid imagery--this was
the passage by which Mickiewicz recognized the identity
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? To-Day and The Last 273
of the author of the poem--of the horror of the Galician
massacres, and at the voice from above: "his heart
breaks, his thought is shattered. " Another, as he said, had
urged upon his nation to fling away her diadem of thorns
and yield herself to the embraces of the false lover who
will be her destroyer. H is long speech is the refutation of
Wielopolski's famous Lettre dun Gentilhomme Polonais
au Prince de Metternich, in which the Pole, whose name
twenty years later was to be the object of violent national
passions, advocated a Polish reconciliation with Russia
on lines which no Polish independent would accept.
"Forgive me, forgive," the speaker concludes, weeping.
"See how I sob, and how I love my Poland. Through
pain I lost my reason. " A fourth says he lost not reason,
but heart, through the same suffering. So each tells his
sin against his nation. The heavenly voice promises
forgiveness on the condition of their individual virtue.
"The Almighty Himself cannot lay the dawn of ages
in an impure heart. "
"Alas! " reply the dying man's friends in chorus. "Our errors
rose from our despair. By law we were bidden to live by
crimes, by law bidden to be spies, by law bidden to betray son,
father, brother. Even in God's temples the name of Poland
was as a foul word. Only was it free to utter that name aloud
--from the scaffold. "
"Repay her," the voice answers, "for her cross by
your good deeds," and to that the chorus: "There is
one road by which we must go to Poland as to God, by
that which never was defiled. "
All that is now left for the dying Pole is to urge his
brothers to be of good heart, for the day so often pro-
phesied by the Anonymous Poet shall be theirs.
I shall not be with you when on that day your hearts re-
sound with hymns, when, as the Jewish prophets sang, the
g. 18
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? 274 The Anonymous Poet of Poland
rainbow-hued clouds descend on you from high. Oh, be pure,
be holy, and what I have foretold shall be fulfilled for you by
a just God.
So he dies: and the last words of the poem are
spirit voices, his and the angel's, repeating from unseen
worlds: "Poland shall be in the name of the Lord. "
The second poem \vhich Krasinski brought out now
-- The Last--is of all his poetic work the most in line
with other European verse. It was begun years before,
perhaps even as early as the time when the poet, almost
a boy, visited with Mickiewicz the dungeon of Chillon
which gave him the idea of the poem. Told in narrative
form, in style equal to the best in that particular type1,
The Last is the story of a Polish poet who has languished
for twenty years in a Siberian dungeon. If here and
there in the beginning faintly reminiscent of Byron's
Prisoner of Chillon, as indeed it was almost bound to
be, Krasinski soon carries his poem up to those higher
planes where at the period of life when he com-
pleted it he dwelt familiarly. Moreover, The Last is
impregnated with that terrible tragedy of real fact which
must of necessity be found in the work of any Pole of
Krasinski's day, when telling the all too well-known tale
of exile and of prison. The captive of The Last has in
fact been identified with two different Poles whose long
martyrdom is conspicuous even in the via dolorosa of
Poland's national records: Roman Sanguszko, deported
to Siberia and personally condemned by Nicholas I to
make the journey on foot, and tukasinsJiL-whose prison
was his living tomb. But Count Tarnowski adduces
the internal evidence of the poem as proof that its
spokesman is intended for no other than Krasinski him-
1 St. Tarnowski, Zygmunt Krasinski.
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? To-Day and The Last 275
self. The poet's foreboding that he would end his days
in Siberia amounted almost to obsession.
The prisoner tells his story. He has rotted for years
in his underground cell, chained by a hook to the wall.
Days, months, years dragged on, and all his hopes died.
He struggled against the death of his soul, against de-
spair, against the dying out of reason. In the cells above
his where light and air penetrated were confined those
whose crimes in the eyes of the Tsar were less than his.
They had murdered a mother, a father, a brother. He
was a Pole who had loved his country and sung of her
to his countrymen.
To no one I confided my last thought. To my beloved
ones I did not bid farewell. At night--without a trace, in
silence and in secret, the prison cart hurled me away; and only
the stars of Poland may remember those first and hidden, those
my journeys after death.
The Tsar condemned him to his fate:
And I went on foot to beyond the world, into this ice, I, son
of the Republic of Poland and of freedom, among the fettered
droves of criminals.
He was driven into the far north at the end of the
knout.
Would to God I had died in the beginning of my martyr-
dom. But we die not when death is our salvation. Thou shalt
die in the day of joy, thou shalt perish in the day of victory.
But when thou livest in pain thou art immune.
And in a transport of suffering he crjes:
Ah, where are my native flowering plains? Where are my
fields of corn, the marshes of my meadows? Where are the
woods of pines, murmuring o'erhead like a strange, secret
prayer? Where is the people that calls Mary Queen?
At this sudden awakening of memory that he be-
lieved had been crushed out by captivity he, for the
first time for many a year, weeps. Thought is not dead
18--2
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? 276 The Anonymous Poet of Poland
after all. He remembers his past visions of the advent
of the Paraclete to renovate humanity and of the great
mission of his country; Who knows but that transfi-
guration may have already taken place in the world to
which he has perished? He feels his chains no longer
The prison walls fade. The spring green of the Polish
meads stretches before his eyes, and he sees a multitude
of Poles with the national banners of crimson and white.
Horsemen in his hallucination detach themselves from
the others, and gallop to the north across the Russian
steppes towards the prisons of Siberia. One moment
more, and he will be delivered: "and Poland shall
enter in my prison to give me back what I have lost
for her--my life1. "
Krasinski's poem was to have ended here with the
release of the prisoner whose history he in the first
instance entitled, not The Last, but The Delivered.
All this part was written prior to the year 1846 while
Krasinski was under the dominion of such hopes as in-
spired Dawn. Then occurred the catastrophe of the
Galician massacres. In his grief of mind Krasinski
changed the end of the poem into tragedy, while at the
same time the fear of Siberia under which he had
written The Delivered left him, and yielded to a longing
for death as his only deliverance. The existence of the
Polish prisoner is unknown to the rescuers. They are
told that there are no Poles in the fortress. Within sight
of the walls they turn back, and he, "the last," is left
behind, the only Pole to whom the prison doors are not
opened. Transports of rage shake his soul. Blasphemies
stream from his lips. Then he chances to pronounce
the name of Poland.
1 See the identical expression in the letter to Gaszynski of June 1,1843.
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? To-Day and The Last 277
Poland! Poland! It is true she has arisen. Lord! is it true?
To-day all Poland no more awaiteth death in chains as I?
Forgive me, Lord, for Poland did I love. She liveth on the
earth and Thou in heaven. And therefore do I die, blessing
Thy name for ever, everywhere, before and in the grave. With
Thine and Poland's name upon these lips which in a few
moments shall be stone, I die. Holy Thy will! Holy my long
bondage, holy the terrors of my lonely death, since now no
longer torn asunder is the sweet soil of my sires.
And, hearing heavenly Hosannas, death delivers
him.
In both To-Day and The Last there runs the strain
of a conspicuous weariness. But this is apparent no
longer in the poems that followed them in 1848, the
concluding Psalms of the Future. The fact that in all
these poems, and in marked measure in the Psalms,
the Anonymous Poet could rise above the horror of
what 1846 had brought upon his nation, and still speak
to her in words of hope, was the greatest victory that
even he had ever won. He won it through and for the
love of Poland. The Galician massacres however left
their deep traces on his national idea. Dr Kleiner notes
that the theory of the dependence of Poland's resur-
rection on each Pole's personal purity of heart and deed,
which Krasinski had already indicated in various of his
works, now became paramount.
While the motive of the Psalm of Grief was Kra-
sinski's wish to console and fortify his nation in the
affliction in which she was then plunged, its immediate
cause was the attack made by Stowacki against the
tenets of the Psalm of Love. Stowacki circulated in
manuscript a fine poem of which the form was partly
modelled on that of Krasinski's Psalm of Love, in
which he mercilessly derided, with more than one per-
sonal thrust at the Anonymous Poet, the latter's fore-
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? 278 The Anonymous Poet of Poland
bodings. Against the knowledge or desire of its author
who, after strained relations with Krasinski on account
of a personal matter, had renewed his friendship with
him, this poem was published in 18481. In a few words
of introduction to his fourth Psalm Krasinski stated his
intention of answering his brother-poet's poem, the style
of which he praises unreservedly; and he then opens
his Psalm of Grief.
Stowacki had thrust in Krasinski's teeth the taunt:
"Thou wert afraid, son of a noble. " "Did terror speak
from me," replies Krasinski, without passion, "when I
foresaw that we were going forward into darkness, not
to dawn? " Yes, his accuser spoke truth. He trembled
indeed, but at the sight of evil menacing his country,
when he sees murder and ignominy ready to descend
upon her.
"Let the Lord judge between my fear, thy courage.
Would to God thou hadst truly prophesied," continues
the poet to whose warnings the truth had been given
in blood. "Would to God I had been the liar, thou
the inspired prophet, and that no stain rested on our
country's plains! "
In Krasinski's self-vindication against the man who
had once been his friend, whose work Krasinski had
publicly praised when Stowacki had had the chagrin of
seeing it passed over in silence, once only a bitter re-
tort passes his lips. Had Krasinski been proved in the
wrong, "we should both have walked in gladness, thou
with thy own glory, I with the redemption of Poland. "
1 Stowacki had fallen in love with Mme Bobrowa who, still devoted to
Krasinski, did not reciprocate his affection, and had spoken of her in some
disparaging terms when writing to Krasinski. The latter resented these
for the lady's sake, and a coldness ensued between the two poets.
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? The Psalms of the Future
279
Beyond this single stab at Sfowacki's egotism Kra-
sinski's whole answer breathes a dignity and a
nobility that would not descend to the acrimonies of
personal strife. His concern was not with individual
considerations, but with the substance of Sfowacki's
theories. Sfowacki had urged progress with no regard
to the means by which it should be secured: "the
triumph of the soul," says Dr Kleiner, "albeit in the
midst of blood and ruins1. " This was of course a doctrine
directly opposed to that which Krasinski held was life.
After the personal preliminaries which poetically
are great, the style of the poem deteriorates far below
the standard of the two Psalms between which it stands.
The nobility of the Psalm 0/ Grief lies not in its form
but in its matter. Krasinski was now developing nothing
further. He was recapitulating what he had already
taught. The Psalm of Grief is the plea that he had
often uttered for the works of the Spirit against those
of human baseness. Eternal is the strife between the
beast and the idea: blood, violence, destruction are the
inheritance of every century.
Who shall redeem us? Who draw out harmony from the
battle of place and years? He in Whose depths is the height
of life, in Whom flesh and spirit move at one--the Holy Ghost
Beneath His rule the earth shall weep no more in blood. In
the morning He waketh to hope the people that slumber. He
shall hasten to make the dark of the deep pools silver till the
morn waxeth into the broader day.
With an increasing want of poetical fire Krasinski
goes on to tell of the general judgment on the ages:
how, with the avenging angels sweeping down like
hurricanes upon them, they stand trembling on the
brink of the pit of damnation till clinging heart to
1 J. Kleiner, History of the Thought of Zygmunt Krasinski.
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? 280 The Anonymous Poet of Poland
heart they are redeemed, because while they were sun-
dered they were as hell, and when they become brothers
they are saved. In the third part Krasinski points once
more to the ideals that alone can bring salvation to
man, a nation, the human race: purity, the love that
accepts toil, the courage that does not shrink from
suffering.
Be unpolluted in the midst of vileness. In the midst of
outrage hold fast thy love. Let thy heart be strong as steel,
and thine eyes weep over every alien grief--and so reach God
by the one chain of deed, by a pure and sincere soul.
And I gaze 'midst the whirlwind at the death shroud of the
skies, and I hear amidst the clouds the choir of those risen
from the dead. Ah! a voice I know! But the blood shed by
vengeance shall not touch the cause of Poland.
She shall shun all evil if she would both live and
banish eternal death from the nations. "Thus shall be
the resurrection": and so the Psalm of Grief closes on
the note of hope.
We now reach the poem that brings the epoch of
the national mysticism which rose out of the sorrows of
the Polish Rising to its magnificent close--the Psalm
of Good Will. Here, with the full powers not only of
his poetical genius but of a great heart and soul,
Krasinski spoke the last and grandest word of his
nation's prophetic and mystic nationalism. Under every
aspect this Psalm is the supreme masterpiece of the
Anonymous Poet of Poland. The exultation of Dawn
is absent.
Nor is there any abandonment of grief.
With the dignity of one who, after long battling with
the tempest had gained the goal, Krasinski turns to his
people with his farewell message. The deep and sorrow-
ful accents of the Psalm roll on like the tones of a
great organ till they die away in the Anonymous Poet's
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? The Psalms of the Future 281
last prayer for Poland that hers may be not earthly
glory, as the world knows it, but good will.
The peculiar correspondence of Krasinski's national
mysticism with that of the unit is perhaps more ap-
parent in the Psalm of Good Will than in any other of
Krasinski's directly patriotic work. The conditions of
moral resurrection, the struggle against temptation, the
all conquering power of the will, as Krasinski sings of
them in relation to a country, not only read as a page
of a soul's experience; but in at least one line Krasinski
distinctly argues that, as of the man, so of a nation.
"Thou hast given us all that Thou couldst give, oh,
Lord. " Each stanza of the Psalm begins with these
words until the scene of the final temptation, and each
closes with the petition: "Now that Thy judgment has
thundered in heaven on the two thousand years that
have passed, grant us, oh, Lord, in the midst of this
judgment to raise ourselves to life by holy deeds. " In
both of these refrains is contained the epitome of the
whole moral idea of the Psalm of Good Will. Every
gift has been bestowed upon the nation; her salvation,
as with the individual soul, depends upon her response
to the vocation with which she has been endowed and
called to carry out. Now let her answer the Divine
summons by deed.
"Thou hast given us all that Thou couldst give, oh,
Lord": rule for a thousand years, a history of love
unstained by the lust of conquest1. "When we de-
scended from the life of the Capitol [i. e. the heights of
power2] into the pit of our dismemberment, Thou
didst keep us who were dead living upon the field of
1 See Chapter X, pp. 237, 238.
2 Note to Jubilee edition. Vol. V, p. 73.
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? 282 The Anonymous Poet of Poland
war. We were not, and behold, we were": as soldiers
in the Polish legions on the battle-fields of Europe.
Thou hast given us all that Thou couldst give, oh, Lord:
the purest life and therefore worthy of the cross, and the cross
itself, but such a cross as brings us to Thy stars. Earth Thou
didst take from us and heaven send down, and on all sides
Thy heart doth shelter us. But our free will Thou hadst to
leave to us. Without ourselves Thyself canst not redeem us;
for so hast Thou ennobled man and every nation that Thy
design, on high suspended, awaits till by their choice men
and a nation go upon their destined roads. Forever is Thy
Spirit the spouse of freedom only.
An eternal idealist, Krasinski has, his own country-
men are the first to acknowledge, transfigured the history
of Poland. If however his language may be called that
of a lover, not of sober fact, is, pertinently asks Count
Tarnowski, the conclusion of Krasinski's whole teaching
and of the life which was one long labour to attain it,
erroneous because his premisses were at fault1? Does
not this glorification in itself lead directly to the rigorous
truth of his summons to the battle that can, and it alone,
make a nation worthy of her heroic destiny2? This is
not the place to enter into an argument as to whether
the reminder of past failings or the appeal to live up
to a sublime ideal, whether it had in reality ever been
reached or no, were the more profitable spiritual spur.
Krasinski chose the latter.
Thou hast given us all that Thou couldst give, oh, Lord:
the example of Thy unhappy Jerusalem in whom Thy love
dwelt so long.
The conception of a certain analogy between the
lot of Poland and of Sion is not uncommon in Polish
mysticism: but Krasinski viewed it on a curiously
1 St. Tarnowski, Zygmunt Krasinski.
2 Op. tit. See also J. Kleiner, History of the Thought of Zygmunt
Krasinski.
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? The Psalms of the Future
different line to that of Mickiewicz or Goszczynski.
The resemblance was to him a sinister one1. Jerusalem
had fallen for ever. Krasinski's idea is that Poland
must take warning for should her sins be like to those
of the Hebrew race--the disdain of the cross and of
the law of love--by which Jerusalem "lost her queen-
ship and is now a widow," the fate of his nation shall
be like S ion's.
Thou hast given us all that Thou couldst give, oh, Lord:
in the example of the foul deeds of wrong of our oppressors,
for which the weeping of our children curses them, for which
they stand by the shame of their own hearts ashamed before
Thee. Not by the death of others, but by their own, all crimes
finish without fruit upon this earth.
Then for the first time in the Psalm of Good Will
the note of a mortal anguish sounds. The moment is
here of the conflict for life or death that beats around
the poet's country, defeat in which means not only her
ruin but the retrogression of all humanity. Krasinski
represents it with the strange imagery peculiar to him
in which perhaps it were not wholly fanciful for the
English reader to discern some resemblance to the
painted clouds and mists and waves of Watts, illuminated
by the celestial vision of a devout son of the most
Catholic of lands.
Thou hast given us all that Thou couldst give, oh, Lord.
We are above the abyss upon the narrow pass. Our wings are
growing to the resurrection, our lips are parted for the cry of
joy. Towards us from the blue, as from Thy bosom, golden
shafts of dawn as though Thine arms are hastening from the
heavens to the earth, to take from our foreheads the load of
agelong sorrows. All is ready. The east is all aflame. The
angels gaze. And there on yonder side is the dark beneath
the unbottomed sinking of the shore. And the abyss is rising
surging, growing, sweeping on us--eternal death where Thou
art not, which from all time engulfs the proud and evil, and
1 J. Kleiner, op. cit.
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? 284 The Anonymous Poet of Poland
is itself pride, strife, and passion, and is that murder old as
is the world, the seething sea of blasphemies and lies. And it
has risen foaming where half above the grave, yet half within
the grave, we stand in this first span of our rebirth. If we cast
one backward glance upon it, if we move one only step towards
it, then the light of dawn shall grow pale upon our temples, the
Son shall shed no tear for us, and never shall the Spirit
comfort us.
Have mercy, Lord, defend us, be with us! In vain! Here
must we stand alone1. In this transfiguration of our final fate
none of Thy angels to our aid shall hasten. Thou hast given
us all that Thou couldst give, oh, Lord!
But remember, remember that we are Thy servants of old,
[and that] since the nation first showed herself from the mists
of time millions of Polish souls have gone forth from Polish
bodies with her [Mary's] name upon their lips in death. Let
her to-day remember them with given back remembrance.
Girt with the mighty cloud of all those dead, let her upon Thy
skies pray Thee that nor devils from hell shall bind our feet,
bent to the heights--no, nor yet abject men.
Look on her, Lord, as, with that host of souls that round
about her throng in heavenly wreath, slowly she rises on un-
measured space to Thee. Towards her all the stars have
turned in prayer: and all the powers eddying in space are
stilled. Higher and still more high she rises, borne by those
pale shades. She floats into the azure beyond the clouds of
Milky Ways, beyond the sun, higher and still more high.
Look on her, Lord! Amidst the throngs of seraphs lo! she
kneeleth at Thy throne. And on her brow flashes the Polish
crown, her mantle strews forth rays of which the skies around
her there are made, and all the spaces wait while she prays
very softly. Beyond her, stand the phantoms of our fathers,
weeping; and in her hands of snow two chalices she holds.
She gives to Thee Thine own blood in the right, and in the
left, held lower, the blood of these her subjects on a thousand
crosses crucified, shed by the sword of their three executioners.
And with the first, divine and upraised chalice, for mercy on the
second she imploreth Thee, oh, Lord. With its loud laughter
roareth the abyss. We hear the thunder of its subterranean
waves. It rolls in ever eddying rings of snaky deeps. With
tempest, mists and foam it blinds our eyes to slay our life into
the murderers', liars' death. Oh, vain one, it seeth not what is
1 Because Heaven had done its part in giving all that was requisite,
and it now remained to the tempted to correspond with Divine grace.
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? The Psalms of the Future 285
being wrought on high. Oh, vain one, it seeth not that its
storms are nought when such a heart for us is wrung.
Then--and we are tempted to believe that Krasinski
could have written this passage only on his knees--the
poet, who had taught his nation the secret of death and
suffering, pours out the heart that had carried the sorrows
of his people since his ruined boyhood into the prayer
which sweeps in unbroken majesty to the end of the last
J-'sa/m of the Future.
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 weapon of rule--
from the tempests it shall fall to us: not for any help--Thou
hast already opened the field of events before us: but amidst
the terrible convulsion of these events we beseech Thee only
for a pure will within us, 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, Who dwelling in each motion alike of hearts and stars
shatterest to nought rebellion of the stars even as Thou
shatterest the wanderings of the heart--Father, Son and Holy
Ghost; Thou Who commandedst the being of man that, poor
in strength and puny 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; Thou
Who in the tumult of the world's confusion piercest to the sod
children of wrath and savest the upright--because that they are
upright--from their torment; 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, with our
temples bathed in the breathing of Thy spring, surrounded
with the wheels of shattered times and perishing rules, Father,
Son and Holy Ghost! we beseech Thee create within us a
pure heart, make new our thoughts within us, root out from our
souls the tares of sacrilegious falsehood, and give us the gift,
eternal among Thy gifts--give us good will.
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? CHAPTER XIII
THE UNFINISHED POEM
^From 1847 to 1852 Krasinski's life was passed mainly
\ in Rome, Germany and Warsaw. When in the late
forties Europe was threatened on all sides by the
\ revolutionary movement, Krasinski was divided between
apprehension of such scenes as he had foretold long ago
\ in The Undivine Comedy and the hope that Pius IX
'would inaugurate a new political and spiritual era.
Through all this storm of unrest in which he dreaded
to behold his country either a prey to communism, or
to the engulfing power of a Panslavism in which the
Polish nation must perish, Krasinski remained firm to
the principles he had already laid down. Poland should
be saved if she continued faithful to her soul. He ad-
dressed memorials in French to Montalembert, Lamar-
tine, Pius IX, all expressing his unwearying love of his
country and the political ideals that we have already
examined in his writings. In his letter to the Pope he
appealed to the Holy See to champion the cause of
Poland before all Christendom. Late one night in
the April of 1848 while the revolutionary forces were
gathering about Rome, he walked with Pius IX in the
Quirinal garden, then defended by soldiers and guards,
and begged him to declare for United Italy.
On the occasion of the outbreak of the revolution in
Vienna in 1848, Krasinski sent Trentowski one of the
best of his purely episodical lyrics, called in the early
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? The Unfinished Poem
287
editions Windobona, written on an October night: "in
ignorance of what had become of Vienna," so the author
adds to the poem. No Pole can forget the fact that /
Vienna, which owed its deliverance from the Turks to /
Sobieski and a Polish army, repaid Poland by dismem- S
bering her. Describing the tumult in the streets of
Vienna as the writer of The Undivine Comedy could
well do--the whistle of bombs, the crashing of alarm
bells, houses laid in ruins, the shrieks among the flames
of women and children--Krasinski ends each verse
with the cry of avenging irony: "Vienna, to-day there
is no Sobieski here. "
To take one stanza:
And the night is denser, and morning is not near. Vienna
has grown pale, has cried aloud and fallen on her knees: gazeth
from old habit with eyes of terror to the quarter whence came
Polish mercy, to the Kahlenberg1. But in the whirlwinds only
hears repeated: "Vienna, to-day there is no Sobieski here. "
Since the spring of 1846 Krasinski's affections had
gradually turned to his wife. He never ceased to be
Delphina Potocka's friend, assisting a lonely and un-
protected woman through harassing cares: but, as time
goes on, Elisa Krasinska plays an ever larger and more
intimate part in her husband's correspondence with his
friends till at last she is the "Incomparabile Donna,"
as Krasinski styles her; theobject of those poems of love
and passionate regret in which he seeks the pardon of
her whose youth he in an agony of repentance confessed
that he had ruined, and who now had gained his whole
heart2. He became, too, a devoted father to his children.
To them, in absence, he wrote letters of fond affection
1 The heights whence Sobieski led the Poles to the relief of Vienna.
2 "I spoilt, I consumed, I poisoned Elisa's youth. " Letters to Cieszkow-
ski. Baden, June 1, 1855.
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? 288 The Anonymous Poet of Poland
after the early Victorian pattern, filled with moral pre-
cepts somewhat above childish comprehension, carefully
calling the attention of his little correspondents to any
mistake in spelling or grammar on their part. One
daughter died in infancy two years before Krasinski's
own death. The three others survived him, but none
of them lived to old age, and with the premature death
of Count Adam Krasinski the male line of the poet died
out in 1912. As both a father and a Pole the thought
of the future of his children in those troubled times often
filled Krasinski's heart with foreboding. Telling his
friends how he and his wife when their eldest son was
at the point of death watched by what seemed the child's
dying bed:
When these terrible days came upon us, when we saw that
beloved and strangely lovely little head sinking into the depths
of eternal sleep, when all hope failed in our hearts, we looked
upon each other in the silence of despair and with one and the
same thought in our hearts, and at last that thought burst from
our lips: "Perhaps if he had lived it would have befallen him
to rot in the prisons or to wander exiled in Siberia--perhaps
the knout would have torn that fair little body. To-day he will
breathe forth his soul--and he will never perish like Sieroczyn-
ski1 under 7000 strokes because he loved Poland. " With this
consolation, with this, in the second half of the nineteenth
century, do Polish parents save themselves from despair when
their loveliest, purest child dies. And I shed still more bitter
tears, and said to myself: "Oh, unhappy race, to whom the
death of their children must seem their salvation3. "
Towards the end of his life we can picture Krasinski
in a happy domestic circle. Besides the company of a
wife linked to him by the strongest mutual affection and
of cherished children, he was surrounded by those who
1 Who was flogged to death in Siberia under circumstances of indescrib-
able brutality.
2 Letters to St. Kozmian. Heidelberg, April 22, 1851. Letters to
Cieszkowski. Heidelberg, April 21, 1851.
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? The Unfinished Poem
289
loved and admired him. Gaszynski was often a per-
manent member of the family, acting as amanuensis in
the poet's recurrent attacks of blindness. The relations
of Krasinski's wife and his own devoted friends were
constantly coming and going.