In the early part of 1855 he lost his
wife, and in June was commissioned by the French
Government to proceed to Constantinople in order to
investigate the condition of the Slavonic races under
the Turkish Government.
wife, and in June was commissioned by the French
Government to proceed to Constantinople in order to
investigate the condition of the Slavonic races under
the Turkish Government.
Poland - 1881 - Poets and Poetry of Poland
After the third parti-
tion of Poland, in 1795, her enemies said: "There is
no Poland," but very soon after the sons of Poland,
who, under the command of the renowned General
Dombrowski fought in Italy, began to sing "Poland
is not yet lost," which was a strong protest against the
partition of our country. That patriotic song was com-
posed by Joseph Wybicki. General Dombrowski, the
organizer of the Polish legions in Italy (born 1755,
died 1818), actually entered Poland at the head of his
legion in 1807, and crossed the river Warta, and thus
the prediction of the song was verified.
This patriotic Polish song has been in bygone years,
and is up to this day, sung all over Europe, and we
may say in all parts of the habitable globe wherever a
Pole is found. It is always sung with a longing cheer-
fulness while hope is strengthening the realization of
the happy future in store for his suffering country.
Wybicki was born in 1747 near Dantzic. He took
an important part in the four-years Polish Diet, in the
revolution of Kos? ciuszko, and in 1806-7. During the
existence of the Duchy of Warsaw he was a senator,
and in 1818 held the high office of the supreme judge.
He died in 1822. Wybicki left very interesting mem-
oirs, which were published by Raczyn? ski in Posen,
1840.
Many years ago the editor of this work had the song
set to music and published in the city of Philadelphia.
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? JOSEPH WYBICKI 201
POLAND IS NOT YET LOST.
(Jeszcze Polska nie zgine? ? a. )
While we live she is existing,
Poland is not fallen;
We'll win with swords resisting,
What the foe has stolen.
March, march, Dombrowski,
From Italy's plain;
Our brethren shall meet us
In Poland again!
We'll cross where Warta's surging
Gloomily its waters,
With each blade from sheath emerging
Poland's foes to slaughter!
March, march, etc.
Hence unto the field of glory,
Where the life's blood's streaming;
Where with talons red and gory,
Poland's eagle's screaming!
March, march, etc.
Poland! shall the foe enslave thee
Sadly and forever;
And we hesitate to save thee?
Never, Poland, never!
March, march, Dombrowski,
From Italy's plain;
Our brethren shall meet us
In Poland again!
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? MICKIEWICZ.
IN YOUNGER DAYS.
202
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? MICKIEWICZ. 203
MICKIEWICZ.
Adam Mickiewicz, one of the greatest of Poland's
poets, and indeed considered by many the greatest of
all. Almost simultaneously with the daybreak of the
morning star in Polish literature, there appeared in
the firmament of poesy a pleiad of most extraordinary
poetic minds. New bards stepped forward, and their
songs in sounds of delightful harmony penetrated al-
most every corner of Poland with melodies full of feel
ing and ardent love of their country.
At that time, especially, circumstances surrounding
the nation were at once exciting and uncertain, furnish-
ing adequate elements, from the sources of which
countless inspiring themes were drawn and sung with
patriotic boldness throughout the land. And the peo-
ple looked at the bards with astonishment and pride, --
and well they might. They began to discover in these
new creations deep and philosophic truths, though
hidden in the imagery of poesy. They could see
better their past, and began to unveil their future. In-
deed, under these poetical figures, in perfect harmony
with the national spirit, were brought to light the na-
tion's genius and its future destiny. Thus a new and
fertile evolution of Polish poetry created new bards
of uncommon genius, who produced works of exalted
order which will be immortal as themselves.
Mickiewicz is one of those who is indebted to this
creative genius, in which he so prominently distin-
guishes himself, and he was fortunate enough to un-
derstand how to govern the elements of this peculiar
time. His poetic conceptions, supported by reasoning
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? 204 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
and proofs, balanced in the scales of extraordinary
genius, accomplished what he wished; and hence he
created a new epoch in his country's literature known as
" Pseudo-Komantic" It can be said of him what was
once said of Herder, " That he was the first to lift the
world of Poesy on his shoulder, and that he still car-
ries it. " In their feelings of admiration the Polish
people had it at the time that Mickiewicz was " called "
to be the greatest creative genius of their nation, and
they were right -- for he had lifted them higher than
they were ever before. In this respect Mickiewicz is
really the representative not only of the people but
also of their feelings. Happily, too, for him, that the
materials for the epoch had already been prepared for
him; and that he understood its spirit is shown in his
" Primrose. " Being as it was, it is not to be wondered
at that his poetry permeated the hearts and souls of the
whole people, an occurrence seldom to be met with in
historical annals.
When Miekiewicz's poetry first appeared it created
an unprecedented furor. Poetic inspiration took com-
plete hold of the people. Everyone, and especially
those possessed of fine feelings and who could under-
stand him, read his verses with unusual enthusiasm,
and committed many striking pages to memory so as to
recite them to others. All felt as if they were inspired
and enchanted by his poetry.
Mickiewicz exceeds all the poets in the power of
phantasy and beauty of expression. It is true that he
frequently indulged in allegory and mysticism, which
at times are unintelligible, but it is the opinion of the
masses these things did not detract an iota from their
merits. His poetry is so multifarious and diverse, and
written under so many different circumstances, that it
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? MICKIEWICZ. 205
may be said there is not a branch which he had not
touched and in which he did not excel.
"When Mickiewicz was creating such tremendous im-
pressions on the young men and women, there was, of
course, as it generally happens in similar cases, a feel-
ing of jealousy engendered among the amateurs of the
pseudo-classic school against this innovation in poetry.
The disaffected ones met at dinner circles, coffee-houses
and club-rooms, to discuss and decry this new state of
things gotten up without their advice and consent, but
their adverse deliberations were in vain and fell harm-
less by the way. Even some newspapers begun severe
criticisms, but the pulse of the public heart beat too
strong. They could neither . stifle the enthusiasm for
the young and gifted bard nor their admiration for his
splendid and inimitable poetic creations. But what is
equally interesting to note is that these gentlemen lit-
terateurs began themselves to wheel into the popular
ranks, and eventually became devotedly attached to
the new Pseudo-Romantic school.
Of all poetical creations of Mickiewicz as regards
themes and forms which present themselves to the
learned critic is a poem bearing the title ik The Ances-
tors. '' The intention of this poem is ostensibly the edu-
cation of philosophic thoughts in regard to man's rela-
tions to the world. His "Graz? yna" is also a great
poem, but relating to the incidents of olden times.
44 Conrad Wallenrod" is a historical poem, the subject
of which is the crusade against Lithuania, exhibiting
great sacrifice and love of country. "Pan Tadeusz "
is a national epopee, in which Mickiewicz's genius as a
poet is fully shown. " Crimean Sonnets," written
under most pleasing impressions during his sojou-rn
in that charming peninsula. ''Erotic Sonnets" and
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? 206 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
"Farys" bear a stamp of foreign climes. Mickie-
wicz also translated Byron's "Giaiir. " "The Book
of the Polish Nation and the Pilgrimage of Its Peo-
ple " is written in biblical style, and very beautifully,
too, because of its solemn and impressive eloquence.
That was the last and the crowning labor of the poet.
The entire groundwork of Mickiewicz's poetry is
feeling, which, if we may thus express ourselves, he
has communicated to his countrymen in a burning
state; letting them know their greatness as a people,
and their misfortunes, and pointing out to them a lesson.
In this Mickiewicz has done, perhaps, the greatest ser-
vice to his countrymen, because if a nation has no such
bards they cannot possibly have a full knowledge of
themselves.
Mickiewicz was born on the 24th of December,
1798, in a town called Zaosie, in Lithuania. He re-
ceived the first rudiments of education with the Order
of Dominicans at Nowogro? d (Newtown). In 1815 he
entered the University of Wilno, where he contracted
the most friendly and affectionate ties with Thomas
Zan, a young man of rare qualities of the heart and
mind. It was a happy circumstance in Mickiewicz's
life to have met young Zan (of whom we will speak
under the proper head), for this young man having dis-
covered great poetic genius, took him under a brother-
ly care and stimulated him to noble actions and to the
unfolding of his poetic powers. The editor of this
work remembers well reading in younger days this in-
teresting incident of friendly attachment, and the im-
pression lasted through life.
After finishing his studies in the university he was
obliged to accept the professorship of Polish and Latin
literature at Kowno; then he returned to Wilno again.
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? MICKIEWICZ. 207
Even at this period (in 1822) Mickiewicz had already a
great reputation as a poet, gained by his ''Ballads,"
tk Romances," k - Graz? yna," and the fourth part of " The
Ancestors," which we mentioned above. About this
time the Russian Government suspected some political
irregularity among the prominent young men of Wilno,
and instituted an investigation. The consequence was
that over a dozen of the best and most intellectual
young men were arrested and sent into the depths of
Russia. Mickiewicz and Zan were among them. In
1824 he was carried to St. Petersburg, but on account
of his already great fame he was well received by the
educated Russians. Among many friendships con-
tracted in the capital of Russia was one of the renowned
Russian poet Puschkin. Here Mickiewicz wrote his
" Ode to Youth. " After a while he was transported to
Odessa, and was employed in Prince Woronzow's
office. Prince Woronzow, being an enlightened and
polished gentleman, treated the poet with much kind-
ness. Here he commenced his u Conrad Wallenrod,"
and " Crimean Sonnets. " In the year 1825 he was sent
to Moscow, where he had a place in the office of the
military governor, Golibyn. Here it was where, through
the instrumentality of Princess Zeneicla Wo? kon? ska,
the salons of the most distinguished families were
open to him ; the princess took him under her protec-
tion and procured for him from the Russian Govern-
ment permission to reside at Moscow. She nursed
him in sickness, and translated his poems into the
Russian language. In the year 1828 he was again
transferred to St. Petersburg, was well received there,
and became acquainted with Alexander Humboldt. On
account of his " Wallenrod " he was accused by the
government, but through the influence of Princess
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? 208 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
Zeneida received an unlimited passport to Italy, Ger-
many, and France. His friend Olenin facilitated his
journey to Cronstadt, from whence the poet sailed for
Lubeck. In a few days after his departure orders were
received for his arrest, but the government officials
were too late.
In his travels through foreign countries he was
accompanied by Odyniec, with whom he visited Ber-
lin, Dresden, Carlsbad, and Praga, and returning to
Germany he stopped at Weimar and made a visit to
Goethe, who received him with great hospitality,
respect and admiration. From Weimar through Rhen-
ish provinces he returned to Switzerland, whence,
through Splugen, Como, Milan, Yerona, Padua, Yen-
ice, and Florence, he arrived at Pome, where he
remained till May, 1830, and was received with marks
of great distinction by the highest society, and invited
to the "Tuesday Assemblies "at the house of Queen
Hortense (mother of Napoleon III).
From Pome he visited Naples, Messina, Palermo,
and lighted his cigars in the clefts of the Crater on
Mount Yesuvius; later, returning by way of Pome to
Switzerland, he stopped at Milan, and became
acquainted with the most celebrated -Italian poets,
Gross, Manzoni, and Fosti. Through Lago Maggiore
and Chamouni he went to Geneva, where for the first
time he learned of the "July Pevolution " at Paris,
which he had months before predicted. Here, too,
he made the acquaintance of Sigismund Krasin? ski, the
illustrious Polish poet. Parting at this place with
Odyniec, his personal friend and companion of his
travels, he started for Rome. It was here and at this
time that the most intimate and affectionate friendship
sprung up between him and Stephen Garczyn? ski, a
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? MICKIEWICZ. 209
young Polish poet of great genius. In 1831 lie left
Rome and journeyed through Switzerland to Paris,
from whence, in company of Anton Go? recki, the poet,
he left for Dresden, and visited the Grand Duchy of
Posen. In the same year he returned to Dresden,
where he wrote his " Pan Tadeusz. " In the following
year he went to Geneva, where he composed the third
part of "The Ancestors. " It is from this place that
Mickiewicz took his friend Garczynski to Avignon,
where he closed his eyes in eternal sleep. He was so
overcome by his friend's death that he thought of going
to America and seek seclusion; but his friends dis-
suaded him from the idea, and he returned with them
to Paris. He shortly married Miss Celina Szymanowska,
a lady of great worth and many accomplishments.
This interesting event occurred in 1834. From this
time hence he became a husband and a father of a
family, but he never again touched the strings of his
lute, -- at least his countrymen never heard its sounds.
In 1839 he was called to the professorship of Ancient
Literature at Lussanne, which in about a year he left
to accept a professorship of Slavonian Literature at the
College de France, in Paris, where he lectured for
about four years.
It was here and about this time that he became
acquainted with a certain Andrew Towian? ski, who
pretended to possess extraordinary powers of clairvoy-
ance, and who by strong magnetic powers exerted a
great influence over the poet, but fortunately it was but
for a short spell.
In the early part of 1855 he lost his
wife, and in June was commissioned by the French
Government to proceed to Constantinople in order to
investigate the condition of the Slavonic races under
the Turkish Government. Armand Levy, a Hebrew,
14
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? 210 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
and Henry Shiz? alski accompanied him on this mission.
After arriving at their destination they visited the camp
of Sadyk Pasha (Michael Czaykowski), but incon-
venient life and the prevailing cholera laid the poet on
his dying bed, from which he arose only to be
taken to his last resting place. His death occurred the
28th of November, 1855, in the presence of his two
faithful companions and friends, S? uz? alski and Levy.
The mortal remains of the greatest poet were taken to
Paris and buried in the cemetery of Montmorency.
Through the endeavors and influence of Dr. Matecki,
of Posen, a monument was erected to the immortal
poet in 1859, executed by the artistic chisel of Stanis-
laus Oleszczysn? ki, the Polish sculptor.
There are many editions of his works issued at
different times and at different places, such as Wilno,
Moscow, Warsaw, St. Petersburg, Paris, Posen, Leip-
zig, Wadowice, Thorne, etc. The most complete edition
of Adam Mickiewicz' s works has been published in
several volumes by his children in Paris -- 1869.
PRIMROSE.
(Pierwiosnek. )
Scarce had the happy lark begun
To sing of Spring with joyous burst,
When oped the primrose to the sun --
The golden petaled blossoms first.
I.
'Tis yet too soon, my little flower,
The north wind waits with chilly breath ;
Still capped by snow the mountains tower,
And wet the meadows lie beneath.
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? MICKIEWICZ. 211
Hide yet awhile thy golden light,
Hide yet beneath thy mother's wing,
Ere chilly frosts that pierce and blight,
Unto thy fragile petals cling.
Primrose.
Like butterflies our moments are,
They pass, and death is all our gain ;
One April hour is sweeter far
Than all December's gloomy reign.
Dost seek a gift to give the gods?
Thy friend or thy beloved one?
Then weave a wreath wherein there nods
My blossoms -- fairer there are none.
I.
'Mid common grass within the wood,
Beloved flower, thou hast grown,
So simple -- few have understood
What gives the prestige all thy own.
Thou hast no hues of morning star,
Nor tulip's gaudy turban'd crest --
Nor clothed art thou as lilies are --
Nor in the rose's splendor drest.
When in a wreath thy colors blend,
When comes thy sweet confiding sense
That friends ; ? and more beloved than friend,
Shall give thee kindly preference?
Primrose.
With pleasure friends my buds will greet,
They see Spring's angel in my face;
For friendship dwells not in the heat,
But loves with me the shady place.
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? 212 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
Whether of Marion, beloved one,
Worthy I am -- can't tell before? .
If she but looks this bud upon,
I'll get a tear -- if nothing more! .
ODE TO YOUTH.
(Oda do M? odos? ci. )
Without soul-life but skeletons are we --
On me, Youth, bestow thy wings!
To soar about this hopeless world,
Into the regions fair to see,
Where mind-created imagery
Strews flowers with fancy's dew impearled,
Arraying hope anew in life's imaginings.
Let him bowed down by weight of years,
With brow that bears time's furrowing touch,
See only of the world as much
As to his dull, dim sight appears!
O Youth ! above this level send
The sunny glances of thine eye,
And penetrate from end to end
Humanity's immensity.
Now look below where the eternal mists unfold
The dark expanse that chaos does o'erwhelm ;
The earth behold!
Look where above its waters dead
A shell-clad reptile lifts its head,
Who is himself both ship and steersman at the helm,
Chasing the smaller elemental fry;
Once he ascends, then down again he sinks --
The waves cling not to him, and from their clasps he shrinks;
Then as a bubble bursts -- collapsing suddenly.
None of his life knew aught, and neither is he missed --
It was an Egotist!
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? MICKIEWICZ. 213
O Youth ! the nectared wine of life for thee
Is only sweet to taste when shared by others;
As heavenly joy unites the heart, and we
Are drawn by chords of love more closely to our brothers.
Together then unite, my friends!
The joy of one alike on all attends --
In union strong, and wise in frenzy's heat,
In one all our purpose blends.
And happy he who fails to win a name
If by the sacrifice of self he seat
Another on the topmost round of fame. |
Unite for nobler ends!
Though perilously steep the path,
And violence with weakness guard the gate,
Let violence contend alone with wrath,
With weakness youth may strive, and striving conquer fate!
He who in childhood crushed the hydra's head,
Will later on strike the centaurs down,
Will wrest from hell its dead;
Then soaring up, win laurels for his crown !
Will strain his gaze beyond all human sight,
Crush barriers that reason cannot shake.
O Youth! thy course is as the eagle's flight,
Thy strength like thunderbolts that round him break!
Then shoulder to shoulder linked, as by one common chain,
This earthly globe we will surround,
And in one focus drawn of thought profound
One purpose and one end maintain!
Earth! move from thy foundations old,
To the progression of our thought,
And breaking through the crust that time has wrought,
Let germs of greener years unfold!
As in the region of chaotic night,
- Where warring elements contended,
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? 214 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
'Mid whirlwind's roar and torrent's thundering call,
To the " Be thou" of God's creating might,
A living world sprung up, and over all
Illuming stars ascended!
So darkness in the realm-soul prevails,
The elements of will are still at war;
But love's breath of living fire
Behold the spent life unveils!
Through which youth's heart conceiving shall aspire,
Joined by eternal bonds forever more!
The icy clod revivifies,
With light prejudice disappears,
Arise, O star of freedom, rise !
The morning of Redemption's near!
NEW YEAR'S WISHES.
The old year is dead, and from its ashes blossoms bright
New Phcenix, spreading wings o'er the heavens far and near;
Full of hopes and wishes, earth salutes it with delight.
What should I for myself desire on this glad New Year?
Say, happy moments! . . . I know these lightning flashes
swift,
When they the heavens open and gild the wide earth o'er,
We wait t'he assumption till the weary eyes we lift
Are darkened by a night sadder than e'er known before.
Say, 'tis love I wish ! . . . that youthful frenzy full of bliss
Bears one to spheres platonie -- to joys divine I know.
Till the strong and gay are hurled down pain's profound
Hurled from the seventh heaven upon the rocks below.
I have dreamed and I have pined. I soared and then I fell.
Of a peerless rose I dreamed, and to gather it I thought,
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? MICKIEWICZ. 215
When I awoke. Then vanished the rose with dream's bright
spell --
Thorns in my breast alone were left -- Love I desire not!
Shall I ask for friendship? . . . that fair goddess who on earth
Youth creates? Ah! who is there who would not friend-
ship crave?
She is first to give imagination's daughter birth.
Ever to the uttermost she seeks its life to save.
Friends, how happy are ye all ! Ye live as one, and hence
Ever the self-same power has o'er ye all control,
Like Armida's palm whose leaves seemed separate elements
While the whole tree was nourished by one accursed soul.
But when the fierce and furious hail-storms strike the tree,
Or when venomous insects poison it with their bane,
In what sharp suffering each separate branch must be
For others and itself. . . . I desire not friendship's pain !
For what, then, shall I wish, on this New Year just begun?
Some lovely by-place -- bed of oak -- where sweet peace
descends,
From whence I could see never the brightness of the sun,
Hear the laugh of enemies, or see the tears of friends?
There until the world should end, and after that to stay
In sleep which all my senses against all power should bind,
Dreaming as I dreamt my golden youthful years away,
Love the world -- wish it well -- but away from human-
kind.
TO M .
"Precz z oczu moich -- pos? ucham od razu. "
Hence from my sight! -- I'll obey at once.
Hence from my heart ! -- I hear and understand.
But hence from memory? Nay, I answer, nay!
Our hearts won't listen to this last command!
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? 216 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
As the dim shadows that precede the night
In deepening circles widen far and near,
So when your image passes from my sight
It leaves behind a mem'ry all too dear.
In every place -- wherever we became
As one in joy and sorrow that bereft --
I will forever be by you the same,
For there a portion of my soul is left.
>>
When pensively within some lonely room
You sit and touch your harp's melodious string,
You will, remembering, sigh in twilight's gloom
" I sang for him this song which now I sing. "
Or when beside the chess-board -- as }^ou stand
In danger of a checkmate -- you will say,
" Thus stood the pieces underneath my hand
When ended our last game -- that happy day! "
When in the quiet pauses at the ball
You, sitting, wait for music to begin,
A vacant place beside you will recall
How once I used to sit by you therein.
When on the page that tells how fate's decree
Parts happy lovers, you shall bend your eyes;
You'll close the volume, sighing wearily.
'Tis but -the record of our love likewise.
But if the author after weary years
Shall bid the current of their lives reblend,
You'll sit in darkness, whispering through your tears,
" Why does not thus our story find an end? "
When night's pale lightning darts with fitful flash
O'er the old pear tree, rustling withered leaves
The while, the screech-owl strikes your window-sash,
You'll think it is my baffled soul that grieves.
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? MICKIEWICZ. 217
In every place -- in all remembered ways
Where we have shared together bliss or dole --
Still will I haunt you through the lonely days.
For there I left a portion of my soul.
(From the " Improvisation. ")
A MOMENT AND A SPARKLE.
What is my life?
Ah !
tion of Poland, in 1795, her enemies said: "There is
no Poland," but very soon after the sons of Poland,
who, under the command of the renowned General
Dombrowski fought in Italy, began to sing "Poland
is not yet lost," which was a strong protest against the
partition of our country. That patriotic song was com-
posed by Joseph Wybicki. General Dombrowski, the
organizer of the Polish legions in Italy (born 1755,
died 1818), actually entered Poland at the head of his
legion in 1807, and crossed the river Warta, and thus
the prediction of the song was verified.
This patriotic Polish song has been in bygone years,
and is up to this day, sung all over Europe, and we
may say in all parts of the habitable globe wherever a
Pole is found. It is always sung with a longing cheer-
fulness while hope is strengthening the realization of
the happy future in store for his suffering country.
Wybicki was born in 1747 near Dantzic. He took
an important part in the four-years Polish Diet, in the
revolution of Kos? ciuszko, and in 1806-7. During the
existence of the Duchy of Warsaw he was a senator,
and in 1818 held the high office of the supreme judge.
He died in 1822. Wybicki left very interesting mem-
oirs, which were published by Raczyn? ski in Posen,
1840.
Many years ago the editor of this work had the song
set to music and published in the city of Philadelphia.
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? JOSEPH WYBICKI 201
POLAND IS NOT YET LOST.
(Jeszcze Polska nie zgine? ? a. )
While we live she is existing,
Poland is not fallen;
We'll win with swords resisting,
What the foe has stolen.
March, march, Dombrowski,
From Italy's plain;
Our brethren shall meet us
In Poland again!
We'll cross where Warta's surging
Gloomily its waters,
With each blade from sheath emerging
Poland's foes to slaughter!
March, march, etc.
Hence unto the field of glory,
Where the life's blood's streaming;
Where with talons red and gory,
Poland's eagle's screaming!
March, march, etc.
Poland! shall the foe enslave thee
Sadly and forever;
And we hesitate to save thee?
Never, Poland, never!
March, march, Dombrowski,
From Italy's plain;
Our brethren shall meet us
In Poland again!
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? MICKIEWICZ.
IN YOUNGER DAYS.
202
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? MICKIEWICZ. 203
MICKIEWICZ.
Adam Mickiewicz, one of the greatest of Poland's
poets, and indeed considered by many the greatest of
all. Almost simultaneously with the daybreak of the
morning star in Polish literature, there appeared in
the firmament of poesy a pleiad of most extraordinary
poetic minds. New bards stepped forward, and their
songs in sounds of delightful harmony penetrated al-
most every corner of Poland with melodies full of feel
ing and ardent love of their country.
At that time, especially, circumstances surrounding
the nation were at once exciting and uncertain, furnish-
ing adequate elements, from the sources of which
countless inspiring themes were drawn and sung with
patriotic boldness throughout the land. And the peo-
ple looked at the bards with astonishment and pride, --
and well they might. They began to discover in these
new creations deep and philosophic truths, though
hidden in the imagery of poesy. They could see
better their past, and began to unveil their future. In-
deed, under these poetical figures, in perfect harmony
with the national spirit, were brought to light the na-
tion's genius and its future destiny. Thus a new and
fertile evolution of Polish poetry created new bards
of uncommon genius, who produced works of exalted
order which will be immortal as themselves.
Mickiewicz is one of those who is indebted to this
creative genius, in which he so prominently distin-
guishes himself, and he was fortunate enough to un-
derstand how to govern the elements of this peculiar
time. His poetic conceptions, supported by reasoning
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? 204 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
and proofs, balanced in the scales of extraordinary
genius, accomplished what he wished; and hence he
created a new epoch in his country's literature known as
" Pseudo-Komantic" It can be said of him what was
once said of Herder, " That he was the first to lift the
world of Poesy on his shoulder, and that he still car-
ries it. " In their feelings of admiration the Polish
people had it at the time that Mickiewicz was " called "
to be the greatest creative genius of their nation, and
they were right -- for he had lifted them higher than
they were ever before. In this respect Mickiewicz is
really the representative not only of the people but
also of their feelings. Happily, too, for him, that the
materials for the epoch had already been prepared for
him; and that he understood its spirit is shown in his
" Primrose. " Being as it was, it is not to be wondered
at that his poetry permeated the hearts and souls of the
whole people, an occurrence seldom to be met with in
historical annals.
When Miekiewicz's poetry first appeared it created
an unprecedented furor. Poetic inspiration took com-
plete hold of the people. Everyone, and especially
those possessed of fine feelings and who could under-
stand him, read his verses with unusual enthusiasm,
and committed many striking pages to memory so as to
recite them to others. All felt as if they were inspired
and enchanted by his poetry.
Mickiewicz exceeds all the poets in the power of
phantasy and beauty of expression. It is true that he
frequently indulged in allegory and mysticism, which
at times are unintelligible, but it is the opinion of the
masses these things did not detract an iota from their
merits. His poetry is so multifarious and diverse, and
written under so many different circumstances, that it
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? MICKIEWICZ. 205
may be said there is not a branch which he had not
touched and in which he did not excel.
"When Mickiewicz was creating such tremendous im-
pressions on the young men and women, there was, of
course, as it generally happens in similar cases, a feel-
ing of jealousy engendered among the amateurs of the
pseudo-classic school against this innovation in poetry.
The disaffected ones met at dinner circles, coffee-houses
and club-rooms, to discuss and decry this new state of
things gotten up without their advice and consent, but
their adverse deliberations were in vain and fell harm-
less by the way. Even some newspapers begun severe
criticisms, but the pulse of the public heart beat too
strong. They could neither . stifle the enthusiasm for
the young and gifted bard nor their admiration for his
splendid and inimitable poetic creations. But what is
equally interesting to note is that these gentlemen lit-
terateurs began themselves to wheel into the popular
ranks, and eventually became devotedly attached to
the new Pseudo-Romantic school.
Of all poetical creations of Mickiewicz as regards
themes and forms which present themselves to the
learned critic is a poem bearing the title ik The Ances-
tors. '' The intention of this poem is ostensibly the edu-
cation of philosophic thoughts in regard to man's rela-
tions to the world. His "Graz? yna" is also a great
poem, but relating to the incidents of olden times.
44 Conrad Wallenrod" is a historical poem, the subject
of which is the crusade against Lithuania, exhibiting
great sacrifice and love of country. "Pan Tadeusz "
is a national epopee, in which Mickiewicz's genius as a
poet is fully shown. " Crimean Sonnets," written
under most pleasing impressions during his sojou-rn
in that charming peninsula. ''Erotic Sonnets" and
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? 206 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
"Farys" bear a stamp of foreign climes. Mickie-
wicz also translated Byron's "Giaiir. " "The Book
of the Polish Nation and the Pilgrimage of Its Peo-
ple " is written in biblical style, and very beautifully,
too, because of its solemn and impressive eloquence.
That was the last and the crowning labor of the poet.
The entire groundwork of Mickiewicz's poetry is
feeling, which, if we may thus express ourselves, he
has communicated to his countrymen in a burning
state; letting them know their greatness as a people,
and their misfortunes, and pointing out to them a lesson.
In this Mickiewicz has done, perhaps, the greatest ser-
vice to his countrymen, because if a nation has no such
bards they cannot possibly have a full knowledge of
themselves.
Mickiewicz was born on the 24th of December,
1798, in a town called Zaosie, in Lithuania. He re-
ceived the first rudiments of education with the Order
of Dominicans at Nowogro? d (Newtown). In 1815 he
entered the University of Wilno, where he contracted
the most friendly and affectionate ties with Thomas
Zan, a young man of rare qualities of the heart and
mind. It was a happy circumstance in Mickiewicz's
life to have met young Zan (of whom we will speak
under the proper head), for this young man having dis-
covered great poetic genius, took him under a brother-
ly care and stimulated him to noble actions and to the
unfolding of his poetic powers. The editor of this
work remembers well reading in younger days this in-
teresting incident of friendly attachment, and the im-
pression lasted through life.
After finishing his studies in the university he was
obliged to accept the professorship of Polish and Latin
literature at Kowno; then he returned to Wilno again.
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? MICKIEWICZ. 207
Even at this period (in 1822) Mickiewicz had already a
great reputation as a poet, gained by his ''Ballads,"
tk Romances," k - Graz? yna," and the fourth part of " The
Ancestors," which we mentioned above. About this
time the Russian Government suspected some political
irregularity among the prominent young men of Wilno,
and instituted an investigation. The consequence was
that over a dozen of the best and most intellectual
young men were arrested and sent into the depths of
Russia. Mickiewicz and Zan were among them. In
1824 he was carried to St. Petersburg, but on account
of his already great fame he was well received by the
educated Russians. Among many friendships con-
tracted in the capital of Russia was one of the renowned
Russian poet Puschkin. Here Mickiewicz wrote his
" Ode to Youth. " After a while he was transported to
Odessa, and was employed in Prince Woronzow's
office. Prince Woronzow, being an enlightened and
polished gentleman, treated the poet with much kind-
ness. Here he commenced his u Conrad Wallenrod,"
and " Crimean Sonnets. " In the year 1825 he was sent
to Moscow, where he had a place in the office of the
military governor, Golibyn. Here it was where, through
the instrumentality of Princess Zeneicla Wo? kon? ska,
the salons of the most distinguished families were
open to him ; the princess took him under her protec-
tion and procured for him from the Russian Govern-
ment permission to reside at Moscow. She nursed
him in sickness, and translated his poems into the
Russian language. In the year 1828 he was again
transferred to St. Petersburg, was well received there,
and became acquainted with Alexander Humboldt. On
account of his " Wallenrod " he was accused by the
government, but through the influence of Princess
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? 208 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
Zeneida received an unlimited passport to Italy, Ger-
many, and France. His friend Olenin facilitated his
journey to Cronstadt, from whence the poet sailed for
Lubeck. In a few days after his departure orders were
received for his arrest, but the government officials
were too late.
In his travels through foreign countries he was
accompanied by Odyniec, with whom he visited Ber-
lin, Dresden, Carlsbad, and Praga, and returning to
Germany he stopped at Weimar and made a visit to
Goethe, who received him with great hospitality,
respect and admiration. From Weimar through Rhen-
ish provinces he returned to Switzerland, whence,
through Splugen, Como, Milan, Yerona, Padua, Yen-
ice, and Florence, he arrived at Pome, where he
remained till May, 1830, and was received with marks
of great distinction by the highest society, and invited
to the "Tuesday Assemblies "at the house of Queen
Hortense (mother of Napoleon III).
From Pome he visited Naples, Messina, Palermo,
and lighted his cigars in the clefts of the Crater on
Mount Yesuvius; later, returning by way of Pome to
Switzerland, he stopped at Milan, and became
acquainted with the most celebrated -Italian poets,
Gross, Manzoni, and Fosti. Through Lago Maggiore
and Chamouni he went to Geneva, where for the first
time he learned of the "July Pevolution " at Paris,
which he had months before predicted. Here, too,
he made the acquaintance of Sigismund Krasin? ski, the
illustrious Polish poet. Parting at this place with
Odyniec, his personal friend and companion of his
travels, he started for Rome. It was here and at this
time that the most intimate and affectionate friendship
sprung up between him and Stephen Garczyn? ski, a
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? MICKIEWICZ. 209
young Polish poet of great genius. In 1831 lie left
Rome and journeyed through Switzerland to Paris,
from whence, in company of Anton Go? recki, the poet,
he left for Dresden, and visited the Grand Duchy of
Posen. In the same year he returned to Dresden,
where he wrote his " Pan Tadeusz. " In the following
year he went to Geneva, where he composed the third
part of "The Ancestors. " It is from this place that
Mickiewicz took his friend Garczynski to Avignon,
where he closed his eyes in eternal sleep. He was so
overcome by his friend's death that he thought of going
to America and seek seclusion; but his friends dis-
suaded him from the idea, and he returned with them
to Paris. He shortly married Miss Celina Szymanowska,
a lady of great worth and many accomplishments.
This interesting event occurred in 1834. From this
time hence he became a husband and a father of a
family, but he never again touched the strings of his
lute, -- at least his countrymen never heard its sounds.
In 1839 he was called to the professorship of Ancient
Literature at Lussanne, which in about a year he left
to accept a professorship of Slavonian Literature at the
College de France, in Paris, where he lectured for
about four years.
It was here and about this time that he became
acquainted with a certain Andrew Towian? ski, who
pretended to possess extraordinary powers of clairvoy-
ance, and who by strong magnetic powers exerted a
great influence over the poet, but fortunately it was but
for a short spell.
In the early part of 1855 he lost his
wife, and in June was commissioned by the French
Government to proceed to Constantinople in order to
investigate the condition of the Slavonic races under
the Turkish Government. Armand Levy, a Hebrew,
14
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? 210 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
and Henry Shiz? alski accompanied him on this mission.
After arriving at their destination they visited the camp
of Sadyk Pasha (Michael Czaykowski), but incon-
venient life and the prevailing cholera laid the poet on
his dying bed, from which he arose only to be
taken to his last resting place. His death occurred the
28th of November, 1855, in the presence of his two
faithful companions and friends, S? uz? alski and Levy.
The mortal remains of the greatest poet were taken to
Paris and buried in the cemetery of Montmorency.
Through the endeavors and influence of Dr. Matecki,
of Posen, a monument was erected to the immortal
poet in 1859, executed by the artistic chisel of Stanis-
laus Oleszczysn? ki, the Polish sculptor.
There are many editions of his works issued at
different times and at different places, such as Wilno,
Moscow, Warsaw, St. Petersburg, Paris, Posen, Leip-
zig, Wadowice, Thorne, etc. The most complete edition
of Adam Mickiewicz' s works has been published in
several volumes by his children in Paris -- 1869.
PRIMROSE.
(Pierwiosnek. )
Scarce had the happy lark begun
To sing of Spring with joyous burst,
When oped the primrose to the sun --
The golden petaled blossoms first.
I.
'Tis yet too soon, my little flower,
The north wind waits with chilly breath ;
Still capped by snow the mountains tower,
And wet the meadows lie beneath.
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? MICKIEWICZ. 211
Hide yet awhile thy golden light,
Hide yet beneath thy mother's wing,
Ere chilly frosts that pierce and blight,
Unto thy fragile petals cling.
Primrose.
Like butterflies our moments are,
They pass, and death is all our gain ;
One April hour is sweeter far
Than all December's gloomy reign.
Dost seek a gift to give the gods?
Thy friend or thy beloved one?
Then weave a wreath wherein there nods
My blossoms -- fairer there are none.
I.
'Mid common grass within the wood,
Beloved flower, thou hast grown,
So simple -- few have understood
What gives the prestige all thy own.
Thou hast no hues of morning star,
Nor tulip's gaudy turban'd crest --
Nor clothed art thou as lilies are --
Nor in the rose's splendor drest.
When in a wreath thy colors blend,
When comes thy sweet confiding sense
That friends ; ? and more beloved than friend,
Shall give thee kindly preference?
Primrose.
With pleasure friends my buds will greet,
They see Spring's angel in my face;
For friendship dwells not in the heat,
But loves with me the shady place.
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? 212 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
Whether of Marion, beloved one,
Worthy I am -- can't tell before? .
If she but looks this bud upon,
I'll get a tear -- if nothing more! .
ODE TO YOUTH.
(Oda do M? odos? ci. )
Without soul-life but skeletons are we --
On me, Youth, bestow thy wings!
To soar about this hopeless world,
Into the regions fair to see,
Where mind-created imagery
Strews flowers with fancy's dew impearled,
Arraying hope anew in life's imaginings.
Let him bowed down by weight of years,
With brow that bears time's furrowing touch,
See only of the world as much
As to his dull, dim sight appears!
O Youth ! above this level send
The sunny glances of thine eye,
And penetrate from end to end
Humanity's immensity.
Now look below where the eternal mists unfold
The dark expanse that chaos does o'erwhelm ;
The earth behold!
Look where above its waters dead
A shell-clad reptile lifts its head,
Who is himself both ship and steersman at the helm,
Chasing the smaller elemental fry;
Once he ascends, then down again he sinks --
The waves cling not to him, and from their clasps he shrinks;
Then as a bubble bursts -- collapsing suddenly.
None of his life knew aught, and neither is he missed --
It was an Egotist!
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? MICKIEWICZ. 213
O Youth ! the nectared wine of life for thee
Is only sweet to taste when shared by others;
As heavenly joy unites the heart, and we
Are drawn by chords of love more closely to our brothers.
Together then unite, my friends!
The joy of one alike on all attends --
In union strong, and wise in frenzy's heat,
In one all our purpose blends.
And happy he who fails to win a name
If by the sacrifice of self he seat
Another on the topmost round of fame. |
Unite for nobler ends!
Though perilously steep the path,
And violence with weakness guard the gate,
Let violence contend alone with wrath,
With weakness youth may strive, and striving conquer fate!
He who in childhood crushed the hydra's head,
Will later on strike the centaurs down,
Will wrest from hell its dead;
Then soaring up, win laurels for his crown !
Will strain his gaze beyond all human sight,
Crush barriers that reason cannot shake.
O Youth! thy course is as the eagle's flight,
Thy strength like thunderbolts that round him break!
Then shoulder to shoulder linked, as by one common chain,
This earthly globe we will surround,
And in one focus drawn of thought profound
One purpose and one end maintain!
Earth! move from thy foundations old,
To the progression of our thought,
And breaking through the crust that time has wrought,
Let germs of greener years unfold!
As in the region of chaotic night,
- Where warring elements contended,
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? 214 POETS AND POETRY OF POLAND.
'Mid whirlwind's roar and torrent's thundering call,
To the " Be thou" of God's creating might,
A living world sprung up, and over all
Illuming stars ascended!
So darkness in the realm-soul prevails,
The elements of will are still at war;
But love's breath of living fire
Behold the spent life unveils!
Through which youth's heart conceiving shall aspire,
Joined by eternal bonds forever more!
The icy clod revivifies,
With light prejudice disappears,
Arise, O star of freedom, rise !
The morning of Redemption's near!
NEW YEAR'S WISHES.
The old year is dead, and from its ashes blossoms bright
New Phcenix, spreading wings o'er the heavens far and near;
Full of hopes and wishes, earth salutes it with delight.
What should I for myself desire on this glad New Year?
Say, happy moments! . . . I know these lightning flashes
swift,
When they the heavens open and gild the wide earth o'er,
We wait t'he assumption till the weary eyes we lift
Are darkened by a night sadder than e'er known before.
Say, 'tis love I wish ! . . . that youthful frenzy full of bliss
Bears one to spheres platonie -- to joys divine I know.
Till the strong and gay are hurled down pain's profound
Hurled from the seventh heaven upon the rocks below.
I have dreamed and I have pined. I soared and then I fell.
Of a peerless rose I dreamed, and to gather it I thought,
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? MICKIEWICZ. 215
When I awoke. Then vanished the rose with dream's bright
spell --
Thorns in my breast alone were left -- Love I desire not!
Shall I ask for friendship? . . . that fair goddess who on earth
Youth creates? Ah! who is there who would not friend-
ship crave?
She is first to give imagination's daughter birth.
Ever to the uttermost she seeks its life to save.
Friends, how happy are ye all ! Ye live as one, and hence
Ever the self-same power has o'er ye all control,
Like Armida's palm whose leaves seemed separate elements
While the whole tree was nourished by one accursed soul.
But when the fierce and furious hail-storms strike the tree,
Or when venomous insects poison it with their bane,
In what sharp suffering each separate branch must be
For others and itself. . . . I desire not friendship's pain !
For what, then, shall I wish, on this New Year just begun?
Some lovely by-place -- bed of oak -- where sweet peace
descends,
From whence I could see never the brightness of the sun,
Hear the laugh of enemies, or see the tears of friends?
There until the world should end, and after that to stay
In sleep which all my senses against all power should bind,
Dreaming as I dreamt my golden youthful years away,
Love the world -- wish it well -- but away from human-
kind.
TO M .
"Precz z oczu moich -- pos? ucham od razu. "
Hence from my sight! -- I'll obey at once.
Hence from my heart ! -- I hear and understand.
But hence from memory? Nay, I answer, nay!
Our hearts won't listen to this last command!
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? 216 POETS AND POETEY OF POLAND.
As the dim shadows that precede the night
In deepening circles widen far and near,
So when your image passes from my sight
It leaves behind a mem'ry all too dear.
In every place -- wherever we became
As one in joy and sorrow that bereft --
I will forever be by you the same,
For there a portion of my soul is left.
>>
When pensively within some lonely room
You sit and touch your harp's melodious string,
You will, remembering, sigh in twilight's gloom
" I sang for him this song which now I sing. "
Or when beside the chess-board -- as }^ou stand
In danger of a checkmate -- you will say,
" Thus stood the pieces underneath my hand
When ended our last game -- that happy day! "
When in the quiet pauses at the ball
You, sitting, wait for music to begin,
A vacant place beside you will recall
How once I used to sit by you therein.
When on the page that tells how fate's decree
Parts happy lovers, you shall bend your eyes;
You'll close the volume, sighing wearily.
'Tis but -the record of our love likewise.
But if the author after weary years
Shall bid the current of their lives reblend,
You'll sit in darkness, whispering through your tears,
" Why does not thus our story find an end? "
When night's pale lightning darts with fitful flash
O'er the old pear tree, rustling withered leaves
The while, the screech-owl strikes your window-sash,
You'll think it is my baffled soul that grieves.
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? MICKIEWICZ. 217
In every place -- in all remembered ways
Where we have shared together bliss or dole --
Still will I haunt you through the lonely days.
For there I left a portion of my soul.
(From the " Improvisation. ")
A MOMENT AND A SPARKLE.
What is my life?
Ah !
